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qaws9876 · 3 years ago

Text

Hi, Neighbor

NSFW

warnings: manhandling, "daddy", infidelity, consent innuendos

word count: 3.7k

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It’s almost – no, it is inarguably disgusting how I throw myself at him. I live right in bigwig alley, so it’s a normal thing for me to casually run into Chris Cuømø on my daily walks or coffee runs. What can I say? He’s a man. The exemplar for aging like fine wine. A peach then and a peach now, if not even more so. It all works for him, almost how-it-ought-to-be since the day he became sexually practicable – the hair, now, with the gray and silver curlies and how they stack when unsheared. The bronzy skin, lined and worn with age.

On his runs, his sweat-soaked running fits stick to him. His nipples bud through. I’m into that. Sweat slicks silvered sideburns. Wild look in his eye. He’s trouble. He’s definitely got some. Makes it sexier.

There’s a band on the big-knuckled finger, so I don’t expect anything to happen. Though if it did, I can abominably admit I wouldn’t put a stop to it. Guy’s cuffed, I got like one evening of mannish randy weakness before the guilt hails the windshield. Let me have it, Mrs. CC, I do implore – it is one sodden 30 minutes of one hour of one day of one week in one month of one year.

I always leave a remark or very obviously try to hold a conversation with him. It’s obvious that it’s obvious to him and he usually leaves me with my dignity, other times he shuts me down obliquely.

Sometimes he’s clearly embarrassed for me, other times I’m wondering if he enjoys it.

Still – I can tell he’s frustrated with me. Frustrated by how much I clearly lust for him.

When my gaze runs down him, licking him over, I see that he notices it. Most often when he’s on a run and he wears those flimsy polyester running shorts that are so impressionable by the burl beneath it. Those are the good days. It’s a nice penis, from what I can see. And the ass is A1.

Today, doing some weekend cleaning, I caught a glimpse of him through my front window. He’s in a casual fit – a T-shirt and thick shorts so he’s not running.

I’m quick to grab a spray bottle and head out to my plants and start spritzing. I pretend to be looking in the distance and notice he has paused at the top of the block.

Guy practically runs another way.

“Wha—? Oh.” Well, I guess today was the day he decided he wouldn’t put up with me. The tingling, the slick panties, the hard nipples thru my shirt. Uncontrollable. Shit. That he’d actually change his routine to get out of seeing me kinda hurts.

My shoulders sink. For some reason, I look again. Chris is coming back down the block. He’s beautiful in the wash of morning sun. That face, the olive tone, the maturity in the troughs and laugh lines. That rough look you get after a few decades.

I’m a lucky girl, in velvet shorts too close for a mother’s comfort, and a tank top. I bend over to spritz plants in the back and feel cool air on my exposed ass-cheeks.

Subtle.

When I see that he’s coming up on my abode, I purposefully linger before I stand upright again.

I wave. “Hi, neighbor.”

This is the part where he usually hits me with the lip-bunched nod and walks off with that “Ok…” look.

Chris actually stops this time. He peels EarPods from his ears. “You say something?”

I nod.

Like I said, he’s trouble. I see it all over his face. It’s a tight look in the eyes that might not be obvious to people who weren’t familiar with his face. There’s having-a-bad-day written all over him.

I don’t think I’ll be let off the hook with a nod this time.

Oh well. Lay it on thick, I’m thinking. IDK – is a man nicer when he really knows just how much you’d like to be on your knees pumping your mouth over his cock?

“Yeah. I said hi, neighbor. Pretty morning today, huh?”

“Yeah, you seem like a nice lady.” He’s holding his phone in one hand. “You do. And it’s very sweet, you greeting me every morning. But—”

“But…what?”

“I’d put a lid on it. And this isn’t me playing hotshot, but I get it. I get how you feel. But, you know, once upon a time, you wanted something, you asked for it. If the answer was no, at least you’d asked. Then you forgot about it. Just my two cents’ worth.”

“Serious question, Mr. Cuomo. How many women in your life do you believe want to sleep with you? And just how friendly do they have to be to meet the criteria?”

Chris’ face goes blank. I can see him reevaluating everything he just said. He looks like he’s been shot.

Well, he should. I do the outraged accusatory thing pretty well.

I can see what’s bothering him. It’s not that he thinks he got it wrong. It’s obvious, to the both of us, or any old fool, that I’ve been making passes at him. It’s that even if he got it right, I could still play to the misogynism that would definitely be flagged in this incident either way by the media, public, if told. There was nothing verbally patent about my wants. There was a very verbal assumption of my wants. He loses. Assume a woman wants to sleep with you? What a sexist, bigheaded SOB.

LOL. I let the misstep of a look linger on his face only for a moment. I’m not that bad.

I chuckle quick. “Don’t sweat it. I’ll retire the blowjob lips. You’re good.”

I expect him to practically run away from me, but for some reason, he’s lingering. His gaze runs me down. If he’s ever looked at me like this before, it was as I was bent over my garden with my derriere extending beyond the fringes of my shorts.

“Sure you don’t.. want to discuss this further?”

Oh, he’s bad. I set the spray down. “Why not?”

He follows me inside.

We’re in my kitchen which is bright by open window shades.

“Soda? Ice?”

“No.” He looks big and out of place in my house, looking about like he’s in a strange land.

I lean against the table lazily, looking him up and down. “Well. And how should we continue this discussion?”

I expect him to come over and play along with the dirty talk. But he comes over quiet, closes the space between us and slips a hand between my legs. He grasps my cunt through velvet and lets the fingers slip away.

I suck in a breath, all tingly now. “Fuck, neighbor.”

He looks around. “Where’s your bed?”

I press my lips together, giving him the up-down. Fuck. “Follow me.”

I lead him down the hall to the second room on the right. The bed is against the window, draped over in floral blankets.

When I turn to face him, he’s eyeing me down.

I step out of my flip flops, barefoot on the carpet, and look him up and down. “Are you gonna say anything?”

There’s an indescribable look on his face as he watches me. Something between vexation and lust. “What do you want?”

I’m puzzled by the ques. “Well, you.” I step in and start kissing his lips. I enjoy it – but he barely responds.

“You can do better than that. All the passes you make at me... the way you look at me. No, tell me what you want. You can’t tell me you don’t have something specific in mind.”

“Hmm, specific?” I pull velvet short shorts down my hips and step out of those. “Hmm.” What am I ordering? I get a little flush thinking about everything I want him to do to me. I pull my tank top up and off till I’m bare and all tits. “Well, I’ve made myself come so many times just picturing your face. Right in this bedroom.”

He raises his brows, looking interested. “You - rub yourself to me?”

I nod along. “You know, sometimes I’ve.. fingered myself – just fucked myself fucking raw just thinking about you on top of me, crushing weight, just wishing it was really you inside of me.”

I start kissing him again. Mmm, I like it. His lips are kissable. I can’t tell if he’s into it until his lips pucker toward the end. I kiss across his rough cheek to his ear. “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve moaned your name while I came?” I lick up his sideburn.

He roughly takes me by the hair, hard enough that I let out a noise, and takes my mouth with his. I’ve never been kissed like this. I’ve never had my tongue fondled and licked like this.

When he parts, he goes, “Bed.”

Breathless, I pad over to my bed and climb on the end pathetically, laying on my back to watch him.

Chris’s belt clinks as he unbuckles. I hear the pop of the definitive Button. In a second, he’s naked.

He’s a God – full form thickness, not too muscly, and he walks over, and before I can speak, flips me over.

I’m on my face and huffing into the threads.

He yanks down my silky mesh boy shorts so they’re at my thighs. I like the roughness, but somehow I’d expected something gentler of him. I feel his fat penis head brushing between my close legs and then he plunges in.

I let out a gasp.

He starts his strokes off swift and sharp. In me, in me, in me, in me—

“Yeah.” I whisper out.

He keeps at it, wetting himself with me, sharply pressing his hips into me.

By now, he’s breathless. “That what you want, huh?”

I clutch at the sheets as I’m pounded into them roughly.

“That’s what you wanted from me?” He holds my hips in place and wetly slides in and out but with enough pressure that I’m tasting Tide.

He’s creamy in me and I’m throbbing, feeling stimulated. His energy is subsiding, still it feels really good.

The wet strokes have me squirming. “You’re amazing.”

He slows to a spent stop and settles right on top of my back. He moves hair from my eyes, so the side of my face is visible.

“Yes, I am,” He pants into me.

“Giving up already?”

“Let a man catch his breath.”

I smile. “While we bang, can I call you names?”

He shrugs. “Sure, why not?”

“I love that shit. Fuck, it makes me so fucking wet.” I’m so horny. I nudge him with an elbow. “Call me names. Ones you mean.”

“Ah,” he’s still breathless, raking at the bunch of gray curls, “Can’t think of one.”

“Whore?”

“Does nothing for me.”

“What about slut?”

“The same.”

“And they usually jump at the chance to degrade me.” He lightly chuckles at this. “Tell me one, come on. Think harder, big brain. I wanna hear this. What’s going to make you tingle while you’re in me?”

“Something I mean?”

I nod.

His breathing has leveled. I watch him think about this. Chris sits up as he’s finally caught his breath and slips out of me.

“Oh. Got one.”

“Ah, share.”

“Good pussy.” He says, spits in his hand and wets me up. I squirm against his fingertips.

I probably would’ve laughed if I wasn’t so turned on. Fuck. “Chris…”

“Shhh.”

He turns me on my back so roughly, “You’re a manful, baby. I’m flushed.”

Chris chuckles as he pulls up each leg one by one, setting them on his shoulders.

“Why are you laughing?”

“Because you’re scared.”

I’m offended. “What? I’m not, no, it’s-it’s a little refreshing.”

“Ha ha. Oh, you’re scared. But—OK, that’s ok. You’ve never been with me. That’s… It’s usually in tandem, right? The sex you have. Control is usually balanced.”

I’ve never felt more bluenose. “How could you tell?”

“All in the face, honey.”

“Feeling pretty foxed right now? Need a fluffer?”

“Just the opposite.” He brushes his nose to the ankle at his right. “Need a breaking in?”

A shiver goes through me. I gulp, chewing on my pinky nail. “No bruises.”

“That’s it?” He slides his hand between my thighs and starts rubbing me up.

I tense as my sweet spot is stimulated, caught between big pads of fingertips, and huff in a breath. “No stopping.”

He looks me in the eyes while his big fingertips spread his saliva all over my clit. “Even when you beg me to?”

His words touch me like his fingers. I moan involuntarily, nodding feebly. “Just make me feel it.”

He breaks the rules first when his hand slips away, then his face slides in between my thighs.

“Heads up,” he says, “I will hold you down when you start fighting me. I – well, I won’t stop.”

I tingle at that, but I don’t say anything.

“Any objections, sweetheart? Tap out now.”

I shake my head no.

“Alright.”

When his lips part and his tongue snarls around my clit for the first time, I jolt and grip at the sheets. He watches me all tensed up from one little stroke, my thighs teetering on either side of his face, and chuckles, palming my thigh, “Oh, this is gonna be good.”

“Fuck.” I watch him get into the rhythm of licking directly up my bud with excellent precision.

I like to feel the muscles flex in his tongue while he strokes it up and down, fluttering it against the bud.

My clit pounds under his tongue, hot and wetter with every lap. The stim feels so fucking good. I just watch him lick all that feeling into me. Intentionally evoking pulses of pleasure through my pussy. And the way he handles it – the pressure he puts on it, the brush, the delicate tug, until the delicacy is gone when he speeds up.

I like the feel of his rough skin against my inner thigh, I love the feel of him tonguing my clit like he’s got a deadline. Oh, he tongues.

“Ohh, fuck, you lick me so good, baby.” I grab onto his hand gripping my thigh.

Chris’s tongue just rubs into my clit. I’m gonna fucking come. The way the tip wiggles against my flesh, purposefully beating against all those nerve endings.

My back arcs and my toes curl – that’s what signals to him that I’m close and he exerts more weight into holding me down. He spreads my bent legs wide, exposed.

An honest shiver passes through me. I’m about to be fighting for my fucking life.

The direct stimulation has me flushed and squirming, at the mouth working me over.

“Ohhhhmyfuckingod,” I moan out, stressed, and grab onto his head, “Fucking eat my fucking pussy, oh God.”

Despite my declarations, Chris never goes easy on me. He tongues the knot of nerves like he’ll go to hell if he doesn’t, slavering it, directly stimulating it. He licks and licks—

My moans become ragged as the pulses hit me, one more sensitive than the other.

“Dude—,” I tense up like I’ve been tased, “dude, you’re making me come. Ohhhmygod I’m coming. Ohhh,” My legs shut down and spasm as the stimulation overcomes me intensely. So much feeling exploding between my legs at the end of a lashing, stroking, licking, sucking, fluttering man’s tongue.

Now I fight. Do I have to say that it’s useless? It’s very useless. I use most of my strength to twist and squirm out of direct contact but he’s got me pinned down and wide open and exposed and he’s sucking the life out of me.

I’m crying and moaning out nonsensical things. I’m fucking crymaxing while he licks my clit. “Don’t you fucking dare, don’t you fucking—ohhh, daddy, daddy please.” And I moan and cry and whine while he eats me out, and the overstim destroys me till I’m a shuddering and twitching mess.

When he pulls back, juices sparkle on his lip. I’m still twitching, between my legs sticky with him and me.

I lay there, trying to collect myself. My clit is a little sore. I came so hard, fuck. Even parted, his mouth is still doing all kinds of things to me right now mentally.

“Now I know how you’ll get away with it.” I pant into the sheets. “Fuck, that mouth. That’s dangerous.”

As I’m collecting myself, he flips me over on my stomach.

“You’re not done with me yet?”

“Not even close.” He kisses up the back of my neck.

I’m feeling feverish. “What are you gonna do to me?”

He doesn’t answer. One hand jams my face hard into the bed, the other grabs me by the hips and pulls them up slightly so I’m a little elevated and the pressure’s on my knees.

I’m nervous. “Are you about to fuck me as good as you ate my pussy?”

He lets go of my head, hips and stuffs his hand under my mouth – I spit in it, he takes it back and rubs himself wet.

The slick sound itself makes me tingle.

I let out a noise at the sensation of his other head stroking between my sticky folds. It’s all bunched up in this position, so he’s pressing into a tight space.

Chris uses one hand to press my head into the bed again.

He rubs his tip up and down my enfolded little nub, creamying us up with each other. This is so fucking hot, the constriction of being pressed into the sheets, against my own drool and the sensation down below. My thoughts are cut off by the flare of clitoral sensation that follows the rhythm of his rubbings to my nervy meaty bud.

My toes curl a little and I moan out in sudden: “Oh,” shakily escapes my throat.

“You recover fast.” He says, slipping his cockhead up and down my tight-lipped nub, rubbing into a concentration of sensational nerve endings.

“You know how to play with a clitoris.” My brows feel permanently furrowed. My voice is muffled against the sheets and my face contorted in pleasure, “She never getstiredofyou—ohh, fuck. Fuck you, I’m gonna come again if you keep playing it like that.”

To my clit’s disappointment, he stops, rubs himself all over, again, till I’m hearing a slicky sound. Then he slips inside me. He’s got my hips tight in his grips. I’m not kneeling, but my hips are slightly arched up, giving him better entry.

He’s gentle at first. Pressing in and out. Then his speed doubles every other second until he’s at a continuous rock, a noisy slapping of skin on skin, wet cock in wet pussy.

It’s the slickest sound, his waddy, slipping in and out of my sock-like flesh of sensations and wetness. My inner nerves are prickling and tingling – with each stroke of his cock against the tissues, he’s knotting and rousing the nerves for climax.

The collision continues, with Chris’s breathing becoming more audible and my sweet spots increasingly sensitive to his stroking. Now he’s less flapping, more knocking me from behind. His hips are iron and muscly, worked right.

Moans are in my throat.

“How good is my cunt?”

His handgrips on my hips go steely, priming him for speed. Chris rams into me, knocking his strong hips into my backside over and over, so now we’re both panting.

I’m aware of the control I have right now, holding him inside me, between my legs. I arch as much more as I can and mew his cock up inside me by clenching tight on it.

He makes a noise of pleasure at the sensation of tightness, and I rock back into it.

One hand palms my ass as I do it. For a while he enjoys it with short, tiny gasps. Then he grabs me by the hair, and pounds me from behind.

Flesh slapping, cream squelches around us, my voice is shaky from pounding, “Fuck me like you mean it, daddy. Fuck me like you mean it.”

“Ah, fuck.” He says, and if possible, slams into me so much harder.

Inner clitoral stim sensation seizes me and I clench up, my hair knotted in his grip from behind, “Fuck me, daddy. Ohhh. Daddy, fuck me.”

I cry out, my words a weep: “I’m gonna come so helplessly on your cock.”

This gets him. His moan is visceral, and he speeds up.

I’m so close. My brows crinkle. “I love fucking you with that pretty band on your big finger, daddy.”

Raw pleasure exploding between my legs. I rock back on it desperately. I’m scared, too sensitive to keep clenched. He presses my head hard into the bed like he forgets his own strength, forgets I’m a person – either way, it has me so close to coming - and shoves himself into me again, again, again, again. Hard definitive thrusts that wedge his dick against my sweet spots.

I tense up sensitively, gasping and moaning. “Daddy, I love – fucking your - cock.”

And I come so sensitively and indefensibly, hotly n wetly wrapped around his penis. Any jerking of my own finished here, as control slips away and I practically malfunction. My legs wiggle and twitch. Don’t fucking stop, keep fucking me. “Daddy, I’m fucking coming.” Hot tears snake down my nose and drool through my teeth and lips as I moan (very very passionately)!!

The moans affect him. “Oh, I’m fucking coming. Oh, I’m fucking coming.” His palm compressing my head is deathly firm and practically melds me into the mattress as he pounds me in over and over.

He grunts while I croak. He keeps going, against the sensitive muscles. It’s the roughest thing and his own moans ring out sharply following each one until the definitive thrust and twitch.

“Ohh, fuck.” He’s panting, and large and manly as he collapses on top of me. I feel his full weight. “Fuck.”

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#ccsmut

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