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By Michael Schumann (fictioneer@indiatimes.com)


"Jesus, Mrs Robertson," Paul Darrow panted, his voice tight and tense, "I really don't think we oughta be doing this -I really don't think we should..." Not just his voice -his entire body was tight and tense. Oh, Christ...

Mrs Robertson looked up at him, her brown eyes liquid with lust, her red mouth stretched around the thrusting bulk of Paul's cock. Slowly, tantalizingly, she worked her mouth upward, her lips sliding sensuously off the pointed, suck-reddened tip of Paul's rod. She pressed her lips against the point.

"Do you think we should stop?" she asked in a silky-throated whisper that made her lips flutter delicately against the sensitive underside of his cockknob. "I wouldn't want to do anything that distressed you, Paul dear..."

Oh, shit! He put his hand on the top of her head, feeling the silk-like strands of blonde hair, and he gave her an insistent push. Her mouth opened and the end of his cock slid back inside. He groaned as her tongue began to work around and around his suck-hardened rod, as he began once more to pump in and out of her seemingly bottomless oral cavity.

How the fuck had he wound up on his neighbors' patio, beside the pool, with his dick jammed halfway down Mrs Robertson's throat?

Sure, he'd seen her around in the two weeks he and Beth Ann had been living here in Elmwood. How could you miss Mrs Robertson? She was out jogging every morning, in powder blue shorts and top, every inch of her rippling rhythmically as she went past. She drove up and down the street in her red 'Vette convertible.

A man could not see her and then not do at least a little fantasizing about what it would be like to get inside that powder blue running outfit -even a newly married man who was very much in love with his wife -a man like Paul Darrow.

But it had never gone beyond fantasizing. He'd never dreamed for a minute that he'd actually wind up fucking Mrs Robertson's mouth.

Mrs Robertson! Christ, he didn't even know her first name, though he was sure it started with an S. Sandra or Sarah or -Sabra! Yes, Sabra! Mmmm, exotic and just a little sexy, and it fitted her to an S.

"Mmm, do it, Sabra," he whispered, "suck my hard cock!"

It was so weird. He'd been knocking around the yard, doing a few of the outside chores -it was his afternoon off -and minding his own business, when Sabra Robertson came down the street, dressed to the nines and obviously in a bind. Could he come take a look at her 'Vette and see why it wouldn't start? She was late for a beauty salon appointment, as if she needed any of that kind of help!

The car was no problem. Just a loose wire. He'd reattached it, and the thing had roared like a lion, the way 'Vettes were supposed to. But by then, Sabra decided that it was just too late to fuck with the salon.

That's what she said, "fuck with the salon", and there was something almost unbearably sexy in hearing her say the word. His dick had twitched instinctively in his pants. He and Beth Ann had been married for almost a year, and he didn't think he'd ever heard her say "fuck" aloud. There was something soooo arousing about hearing a beautiful woman use nasty words.

She'd invited him in for a drink. It was really too early for drinking, but what the hell? One Collins wouldn't hurt. He'd had three, the extra-strong kind she mixed.

Maybe it was the booze that had done him in. Maybe it was the watching her as they sat chatting on the patio. She was wearing a black sheath dress, thin straps, no sleeves, tight in the bust and the waist and the hips, riding high on her long perfect legs. Sorta like the dress Anita Eckberg wore in _"La Dolce Vita"_, though she wasn't built quite like Anita.

Her tits were maybe 36-Bs, high and proud and thrusting -no bra under the black dress, as he could see when she leaned forward -and her waist was trim, her hips womanly but not exaggerated. She looked like a fashion model with boobs.

And right now, with her mouth working wetly up and down his cock, she looked like a fashion model doing porno movies. God, the way she sucked a dick! His guts churned as her mouth moved on him. He was rabidly erect, his balls full of hot blistering cum. He wanted to dump his steamy load straight down the throat that his cock slipped into when she gulped and took him all the way to his cum-bloated balls.

She let his cock slide out of her mouth and she started to lick and kiss it all over. It made him that much hotter to come in her mouth. She used her hand on him while she sucked his nuts.

He looked around at the high redwood privacy fence that ringed the Robertsons' back yard. Thank God for that! At least none of the neighbors was in danger of peeking out a window and getting a glimpse of what he and Mrs R were up to!

He didn't much give a fuck, at that point, what the neighbors saw or what they thought about what they might see.

It would kill him, of course, if Beth Ann found out what he was up to right now, but he didn't figure that would ever happen. They hadn't been living in Elmwood long enough to know that many people. Today was the first time he'd ever spoken to Mrs Robertson, for example, though she only lived three or four houses away. Well, he was doing more than talk to the bitch now!

As she took his cock back inside her mouth and sucked it voraciously, he found himself wishing, almost, that Beth Ann could get a look at this. Maybe it would give her some ideas!

His hands strayed down Sabra Robertson's body. He reached behind her and unzipped the back of her dress, hands sliding inside. He'd been right. No brassiere. He pulled the dress down, and she moved her arms to help him get it free. Her tits fell into his hands and he cupped them eagerly as she ate his cock.

Her tits were round and hard and high, with firm stiff nipples jutting out. His fingers closed on the nipples and he sighed in delight, feeling them throb and pulsate. Just the way his prick was throbbing along the lapping length of her hot wet tongue!

He pawed at her tits as she sucked on his cock. The drinks buzzed inside his head, but it was more than alcohol. He was soooo fuckin' turned on by this totally unanticipated blowjob!

Sabra's mouth came up his cock, sucking every inch of him as her head lifted. She slid off his rigid point with a smacking slurp. He looked down, saw her lipstick ringing the base of his prick. His cock was so red it was a wonder there was any color left on her mouth at all.

She stood up, his hands falling away from her hard-nippled tits, and she did a hipshake that sent the black dress fluttering down her long lean body. He began to stroke his cock, almost unconsciously, as she stepped out of the fallen dress.

She was tanned everywhere he could see, and he could see everything except the crack of her pussy. Under the black dress she wore only a pair of g-string panties, just a thin strip that covered her crotch, plus garter belt and sheer stockings.

Naked, her body was everything he had dreamed it might be, and even more. His hand jerked faster on his cock. He was in imminent danger of squirting jism all over his fist.

"Do you like the way I look?" Sabra asked throatily, turning for him.

From the rear, uncovered, her ass had more dynamite than a railroad car full of TNT.

The cheeks were bare, just a little strip of thong running down the crack, from the thin strap that rode low around her waist. She was wearing high, high heels, that lifted her ass even higher than God had set it on her body, that made her legs curve in fantastic, erotic ways.

Paul's hand clutched at his cock. Jesus, he was gonna lose his load right now!

She hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her panties, pulling the crotch strip outward. He had a flash of the pubic hair beneath, just a flash, and his prick throbbed excitedly.

She looked at him sensuously, and she cupped her tits. Leaning down, she flicked her tongue across the nipples. She lifted one tit, brought it to her mouth, and eased the nipple's tip between her lips, where she sucked at it, her eyes fixed on Paul as if to say "Do you like what you see? Do you think this is sexy, too?"

He nodded, responding to the unasked question. His fist jerked at his cock. Jesus, he didn't want to squirt his load like some dumb little kid jerking off to _Playboy_, but his nuts were swollen with the weight of the jism backed up inside them, and he was dying to squirt it out!

Sabra let go of her tit. He could see the red smear of lipstick on her flesh where she'd kissed and sucked herself, and it drove him crazy with lust. He stood up, his prick sticking straight out, and he took her by the wrists, pulling her to him.

She was nearly as tall as he, in her heels, close to six feet. He bent her head back slightly and kissed her cockloving mouth. It was the first time he'd ever kissed lips that had only just been wrapped around his cock. They didn't taste any different from the other mouths he had kissed, though.

He stuck his tongue in her mouth and let Sabra suckle on that for a while, as he rubbed his body against hers. His hands cupped the hard firm cheeks of her rounded ass, and he pulled her tightly to him, grinding her with his hard dick. His fingers got under the panties and moved onto her bunlike cunt. He found the slit, dripping wet, and worked his finger back and forth along the crack, slipping inside her from time to time.

Her pussy was as hot and active as her mouth. It caught the tip of his finger and sucked it inside, the same way her lips were nursing on his tongue. He thrust, and he felt her shudder, tasted her moan of pleasure against his mouth.

He moved back, onto the patio chair he'd been sitting in, and he pulled her with him. He sat down, and Sabra mounted him, her legs enfolding his body. She went up onto her knees, and he pulled aside the crotch of her g-string panties.

She took hold of his cock and guided it to her pussy mouth. "Fuck me now," she said. "Fuck me hard and fast and deep!"

His cock thrust up into her, the pussy lips melting like butter as he rammed upward. She met him with the base of her cuntal tube, and he hit bottom inside her.

Sabra gasped and moaned and wrapped her arms around his neck. She pushed her ripe tits into his face and he began to suck and lick and kiss the tanned rounded mounds, his mouth hungry for her hard brown nipples.

He pumped his cock up into her, fast and hard, just the way she'd demanded, just the way his own lustful urges required. His rod was swollen to twice its normal size, or so it felt to Paul.

She was dripping wet, all the way to the bottom of her hot cunt, and he fucked it madly, passionately, relishing the tightness and -Jesus! -the wild cunty squeezes she flexed onto his prick with her rippling muscles as he fucked her. His cock was trapped in a nutcracker, and he didn't want to take it out, not ever!

He still didn't know why she'd suddenly gotten hot and started coming on to him. He hadn't believed it meant what he thought it meant until she'd unzipped his pants and taken his cock out. Now, wedged in her hot tight wet pussy, he still had no idea why she was doing it, but he was glad she'd decided to do it with him.

Sabra Robertson was the kind of piece every man dreamed about getting but most men never got. Paul Darrow was getting it, and he knew there was a God who watched over him, who wasn't too pissed off with the way he lived his life.

He sucked hard at her tits, he fucked even harder up her pussy. She took it all, seemed to want more. She smothered him in her tits, ate him with her pussy. He suspected her fucking might be even better than her blowjob, and her blowjob was goddamn perfection come to life. He didn't think he'd ever had such a wild, hot,wet piece of pussy in his whole fucking life!

"Oh, yes, Paul," he heard her gasp, "yesssss!!! Fuck meee!!! Ooohhhh, make me cummmmmmm!!!"

He could feel her exploding around his cock. He held her tight, and he filled his mouth with a hot vibrating tit. The nipple pulsated against his tongue like a jackhammer on overdrive. His cock rammed up into her clenching, rippling pussy, hitting bottom on every stroke, and each thrust seemed to coax a new round of hot responses out of Sabra.

She was dripping sweat, her blonde hair hanging in loose wet strands around her face. She was more gorgeous than ever, caught up in the heat of fucking, and the sight of her beautiful face contorted in ecstatic response put the finishing touches to Paul's struggle to keep his nuts from blasting too soon.

It was fucking _time_!!! He thrust upward into her wild hot twat and he let go, his prick cream gushing hotly up Sabra's sucking sheath.

She rode him gloriously as they came together, her pussy sucking the cum up his tubes, siphoning the sticky white stuff up her cuntal pocket. He was dry, but he couldn't stop thrusting, ramming his prick up her pussy again and again.

Sabra slumped atop him, her arms tight around his neck. "That was fantastic," she said. "Why don't we go inside and do it again, darling? We could even make a videotape. You haven't lived till you've watched yourself fucking on instant replay. Are you interested? Do you have time? Does my body still turn you on?"

"Is the Pope Polish?" Paul joked in a weak voice. "Does Ron Reagan color his hair? Is Elvis still the King? Do you _really_ have a camcorder???"