Thy Neighbor's Wife

Chapter Two-1

Chapter Two

It rained the better part of three days, storms brewing inside angry black skies, lightning, rumbling thunder enough to make the old house shudder from its crystal chandeliers to its creaky framework. After the storms passed, there was rain, buckets of hard-hitting liquid pelting the roof, windows and porches, making puddles in the drive and a mess of my spring flowers. I had cabin fever—or attic fever as the case may be since that was the place I chose to spend most of my time. The house below was a gloomy reflection of the warm home I so envisioned for my massive city house. Living in those rooms, I felt a desperate melancholy, a longing for something or someone to fill those spaces other than myself. The attic, on the other hand, I could make cheery enough to weather the never-ending storms.

When the sun broke out, the sudden burst of exhilaration sent me outside. Time to prune the overgrown hedges, breathe the clean air and listen to the water drip from the canopy of trees.

While deeply engrossed in my project, I seem to remember the sound of a car door closing, then the melodious sound of a woman’s laughter. I filed the thought away, wondering for a minute if that laughter came from the lovely creature next door. I even took the time to peek in the direction of my neighbor’s yard. There again was a workman’s truck parked in their drive, though no one was around. I went back to my work.

Perhaps another half hour passed, there was that woman’s laughter again and the sound of a man’s voice. Someone made a shushing sound. Then silence. The rain dripped down from leaf to leaf to leaf, and in the far skies a bit of thunder rumbled in from some distant storm, no power behind it now. I continued in my pruning frenzy, then reached deep inside the thick hedge for some discarded bits of paper that had blown in and lodged in the branches likely months before. I pressed my way inward, finding them difficult to reach, then at last gave up and decided to walk to the other side of the hedge where they’d be easier to retrieve. I was just a few feet from a natural opening in the hedge. That too had become overgrown, so I needed to push my way though where I’d be just inside my neighbor’s yard. When I suddenly burst through the prickly opening of leaves and thorns, I stumbled and had to catch myself on a nearby hydrangea bush. I finally righted myself, and stood staring directly into the face of my neighbor’s wife.

She was on her screen porch, kneeling in the thick cushion of a chaise lounge, on all fours. While she wasn’t naked, she might as well have been. I could see everything down the front of her open dress, from bobbing breasts to the seductive undercurve of her cunt. Her dress had been pushed up over her bottom. Behind the woman was a young, muscled workman dressed only in a pair of jeans, which were at the time unzipped and riding low on his firm hips. Either his body was naturally tan or he sunbathed nude. In contrast, the woman’s bare behind, angled enough so I could see it fairly well, was a much softer creamy hue. I imagine it was the natural lighting that made her skin appear less brown than I’d experienced from my attic viewings. As the man tightly gripped her flanks, he made several hard, rocking motions with his groin pressing into her rear. She moaned as the look of ecstasy broke out across her face with eyes closed; she didn’t know I was there for several seconds of furious f*****g action.

My c**k jolted awake. Then for at least thirty seconds, with every new thrust of the young man’s p***s into the adulterous wife’s s*x, my own p***s swelled with greater excitement. By the time I finally came to my senses, the woman’s eyes opened and recorded the instant of revelation with a look of utter horror. Her lover thrust a few more times, before he finally heard her startled scream and stopped ramming.

Even then, the two remained motionless, as did I, until I finally had the presence of mind to say, “I’m so very sorry,” and disappear from where I came.

I dropped my pruning shears on my back porch and returned to the house too shaken to continue working. I wandered aimlessly thorough the kitchen and dining room to the front hall, where I moved still dazed into my finely appointed gentleman’s study. I slumped into the leather chair where I’d sat just once before and stared out the window to my front yard. I thankfully couldn’t see anything of what was going on next door. I didn’t want to see more. The sound of the truck gunning its engine and roaring off told me everything I needed to know. And even that was too much knowledge, despite the way it aroused me. My c**k was still aflame, almost hurting as it pressed against the inside of my pants. The look on her face and the body fueling that expression of lust, I’d never forget.

Seeing the tawdry exhibition, I wanted her now even more, wantonly so, f*****g her the same way the young workman f****d her, only more ruthlessly, if that was possible. I’d never had such feelings for a woman—at least not since my reckless twenties—and no matter what I did, I couldn’t squelch the fire in my belly, until I yanked the tumescent beast from my pants and jacked off. As I m*********d, I thought of every rude thing possible I could do to that luscious woman, ramming her mouth, her cunt, her ass, yes her ass. With that particularly savage picture hitting my brain cells, my erection exploded all over my pants.

Thank God it was done!

I slumped back into my chair to catch my breath, but not more than five minutes later, before I had a chance to completely recover, the doorbell rang.

Damn! What awful timing!

I should have just slunk back into a corner of the house and hidden away until my caller left, but like a fool, I hurriedly jumped up, wiped myself as best I could with a handkerchief and answered the door. I secretly hoped it was my neighbor’s wife, coming to explain herself.

“Melanie!”

“Hi there, darling man!” she exclaimed, while pushing her way through my door without an invitation.

“What brings you here today?”

I had to admit, she looked especially lovely. Although her sharp, clear-cut features could make her look quite stark and cold, she was at that moment as warm and nurturing as a hot meal. Too bad she had so little s****l warmth. She was dressed in pale yellow workout clothes, which fit quite nicely against her slim, athletic form. Her long black hair was tied in a pony tail, her face flushed and energetic.

“Here, how about lunch?” she said with a sunny smile. “I dropped by the deli after working out. They have a terrific tofu salad.”

I winced at the tofu. What did I expect from a health nut? “Oh, lunch sounds great,” I managed to sound mildly enthusiastic. “I’d be happy to have you join me, but I think I’ll try my leftover pot roast.”

She was already on the way to the kitchen, saying, “Don’t you ever think about the fat? What it’s doing to your arteries?”

“My arteries, like the rest of me, happen to love the fat,” I called to her. “It’s much tastier than your tofu.” I suppose as long as I entertained a relationship with this woman, we would argue about food. I decided if she went vegan, I’d finally break it off for good.

Lunch was a pleasant enough way to take my mind off the neighbors next door, at least while Melanie was jabbering away. But toward the end of our meal, my p***s began to twitch again, residual arousal.

Reaching out under the kitchen table, I fondled Melanie’s knee, hoping I might spark some interest. When she didn’t do anything to dissuade me, it gave me reason to hope. But then just when I started to get serious, she popped up.

“I gotta go, hon. Back to the old grind. Clean up and be at a board meeting with my ice shields on by four,” she replied, smiling broadly. We’d joked about this too, her ‘ice shields’. In her working life, Melanie ran a sizeable financial trust employing about twenty people. I wouldn’t have wanted to go up against her in any matter and steered clear of involving my own expertise in her company.

Her departure put a damper on my further s****l plans, not that they would have amounted to much with my sexually dispassionate girlfriend. Since m**********n just wouldn’t be enough to make any real dent on my newly exposed erotic need, I hiked to the top of my house to play with my stocks and bonds, anticipating a long afternoon of mindless tranquility and emotional calm.

***

I sat in my first floor study reading the evening paper, and occasionally looked up to stare about this one of many rooms I routinely ignored. My brief s****l adventure earlier in the day had landed me there for the first time in many months, where I discovered the atmosphere quite pleasant, if you take away the raging hormones that drove me on my previous visit. I’d realized then that the comfortable feel of the leather chair and the light from several windows made the room much more adequate for reading than the attic. When I picked up the evening paper, instead of heading up to my perch, I decided to try the study again, under less frantic circumstances. The room was really quite suitable in many ways; it almost felt as though I’d designed it myself. The desk was large, plenty of room to spread out. A perfect view of my spacious front yard could be seen through the large bay window. And there was nothing fussy about the place. There were plenty of built-in shelves for books and knickknacks, although at the time they were forlornly bare. Maybe it was time to unpack some of the boxes that had landed in the basement when I moved in.

The tenaciously masculine setting also included a small working fireplace that would be good for winter, and a movable wet bar housed in an antique server, a 17th century lacquered Chinese cabinet, if I recall correctly what the designer had told me. Yes, this was the perfect gentlemen’s retreat, and still I was climbing up two flights of stairs, one very rickety, to spend hours working in a musty, drafty attic space. My lofty perch had only one true amenity—the window that looked out on my neighbor’s house. Was it possible that for the last several weeks, I’d avoided the creature comforts of my home to pursue an adolescent dream in the most inhospitable area of my wonderful house? Of course, I wanted the woman, but she was another man’s wife, and I had no business coveting her, even the Bible said that.

Time to give up childish ways, I sanely resolved—just before the doorbell rang.

Twice in one day! Amazing!

Apparently, I wasn’t fast enough answering my caller because just seconds after I heard the bell, put down my paper and glasses, and moved to the front hall, there was an anxious banging on the heavy oak door. Feeling some urgency behind the knocking, I rushed a little faster, and opened the door to see a face that for a second, I thought was only an apparition.

“Hello, sir,” the caller said. I could see a look of distress on the lovely features I’d seen only three or four times before, but had imagined in countless moments of shameless s****l imaginings. “Please, may I speak with you?” she said.

As Melanie had done earlier in the day, she moved in before I could offer a quick, “Yes, certainly.” Who was I to argue? I felt blessed.

My neighbor’s wife was much smaller than I expected her to be, a good head shorter than myself, which made her just about five feet, two inches, if that. Her eyes were as round, her face as smooth and youthful, her mouth as alluring and her body as voluptuously resplendent as the woman in the upstairs window, the woman in my memory. Her eyes were blue; I could confirm that now. She was, however, shaking with fright, while a worrisome frown caused her face to look painfully stressed.

“Sir,” she started and stopped, as if she wasn’t certain what to say.