In the Neighbourhood

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Chapter 31: Deep

Darrell knew this warm, sunny summer couldn’t last forever, but on a day like today, the sun radiating from the cloudless sky, raining its endless energy down on him, the pool, the backyard, the world—it was hard to believe it could ever come to an end.

Sherrie swam—almost drifted, she moved so slowly—over to the end of the pool, made a lazy turn, and flowed back towards him. He was sleepy, but he watched her the whole way. She had stopped wearing a bathing suit in the pool over a week ago, just strutting from the house to the deck without a care in the world, lying out in the sun as naturally as could be. Her tan lines were already fading, her boobs and butt noticeably darker already.

Darrell liked this new freedom of Sherrie’s, wouldn’t have discouraged it for the world, but... he craned his neck, and yes, one of Stan’s upstairs windows had a good view of the pool and at least part of the deck.

Now, Stan seeing Sherrie in her altogether when she was outside—that wasn’t such a big deal. She knew what she was doing. Hell, someone could walk through the gate unannounced, and see everything.

Now, if he found Stan on his roof, looking through his window at his wife showering, he’d murder him. He should have given Stan a good hard smack that night he’d caught him red-handed on Keith’s roof, in fact.

But this was different. Sherrie knew the neighbours were there, or could be there. So in a way, they had a right to enjoy the view as much as Darrell did. They’d all seen more of her—much more—already.

She lifted herself up on the lip of the pool, holding herself aloft as rivulets of water ran down her skin in shining streaks of sunlit gold. Darrell smiled. No, he wasn’t going to discourage this at all.

“Are you asleep?” she asked.

“No,” he said. “Just relaxed.”

“You don’t seem relaxed,” she said, lifting one knee out of the water and resting it on the concrete, then the other leg. Her tits hung down, still dripping, swaying enticingly. “You seem very tense.”

Where was she getting that idea? He’d been lying on this chaise for a half hour, barely moving a muscle, as if the sun had melted him there. “Do I?”

“Oh yes.” There was a little smile on her lips as she advanced on him. “Very tense.”

He lost his view of the smile—there were legs, and hips, and waist, and breasts—much more to concentrate on than just her face. But it nagged at him. Tense? Where? Was he frowning or something? Well, sure, he was now, but—

“You just stay there,” she said, kneeling down beside him. “Let me help.”

She laid a hand on his stomach and suddenly Darrell had it all figured out. Really? Here? In broad daylight?

“Are you sure—”

“Shh...” She put a finger to her lips and ran the other hand up and down his belly, then over his bathing suit. “See?” she said. “We need to do something about this.”

Although he didn’t disagree, Darrell still wasn’t clear on what Sherrie was proposing to do. “What—uh, what should—”

“Sh, sh,” she clucked. “I told you to relax.”

Her hand was under the waistband of his trunks, cold and damp from the pool water but soft and tender as it snaked around him. He shifted his legs slightly so that the fabric wasn’t pulled quite so tightly across his front.

“Tsk,” she said. “These are just going to get in the way. Why don’t you—”

Obligingly, Darrell lifted his hips, and Sherrie pulled his swimsuit down. It was dry, so it slid off easily, except for getting the waistband past his now stiffening dick. This playfulness with Sherrie was not usual, but he wasn’t going to question it if it was going where he hoped.

“See?” she said, laying her hand flat on his cock, moving it only slightly. “Much too tense. Tsk, tsk, tsk.”

Darrell watched her, but she didn’t look up to meet his eye, just concentrated on what she was doing. She ran her hand up and down the shaft a few times, just lightly touching it, not gripping it. With her other hand she reached down and cupped his balls. “How does that feel,” she asked.

He weighed his possible responses. He could be encouraging, and hope that she would go down on him. Or he could respond in kind—like she was a doctor or massage therapist, as she seemed to be implying—and he was a patient.

That kind of stuff was always difficult for him, though. He felt ridiculous talking at all when they were doing anything sexual; it made him too self-conscious, spoiled the mood.

And yet, if he didn’t give her what she wanted—well, she might carry on, but what if she just continued with this handjob? He hadn’t gotten off on a blowjob with Sherrie in... it was years, probably. Sure, she would give him a suck now and again, but only as an all-too-brief precursor to actually fucking. A real, honest-to-goodness blowjob was just never a possibility any more.

This time, that’s what he would get. And he’d say or do whatever he had to. So she wanted to play doctor, make him relax? Fine.

“It’s going to take a lot of work,” he said, “to make that relax.”

She looked at him and smiled, a little delighted smile. So far, so good. “Don’t worry,” she said, and grasped she shaft firmly in her hand. “I’m an expert.”

Inspiration struck. “You’ll need to go deep,” he added. Did that make sense? Deep tissue massage, he had been thinking. That made sense, didn’t it? Did she get the joke, or did he just make himself look ridiculous?

No—to his immense relief, she got the joke. “Deep is my specialty,” she said, and buried the head of his cock in her mouth.

Darrell lay back to enjoy it. He lay one hand on her shoulder to help ensure she would stay where she was, and let her do her job.

It wasn’t like the last time she’d sucked him off, on one of the tapes they’d made. That had been a disappointing session—it felt like about thirty seconds before she got up, wanting him inside her. But it wasn’t just how long she had gone, it was something else.

Her arm under his hand moved, and he tensed his grip slightly. He wasn’t going to force her to keep going, but he wanted her to know what he wanted. If he had to spell it out, communicate clearly what he wanted, well, so be it. He’d communicate.

But she was staying put, bobbing slowly up and down. No, her arm was doing something else—yes, her fingers were busy too, on herself.

That explained it, what was different this time. She must have gotten good and horny, swimming around naked, feeling the warm water in the pool flow under her tits, across her ass, between her pussy lips...

She stopped and released him for a moment, panting, her eyes almost closed. He could feel her hand still moving, though, still going. “Squeeze my tits,” she said. “I want to come while you’re in my mouth.

Sherrie sat up a little so Darrell could reach, and he put his hand under her soft skin, circled her nipple with one finger, pinched it gently between his finger and thumb.

She moved closer, so he could get his whole hand on her, and he could feel her quaking slightly as she worked her fingers. He could hear them, feel them, rubbing fast, probing deep inside herself—

It all stopped, suddenly; Sherrie was motionless, her body still, his cock still clamped firmly in her mouth. Was she coming? He wasn’t there yet, so he hoped not. It was feeling so good up to now...

He raised his head. Her eyes were open, and she was slowly, slowly, letting his cock slide out. What was it, a muscle cramp?

She took him in her hand and started stroking him again, not paying much attention to what she was doing.

“Don’t look up, keep looking at me,” she said.

Darrell nodded.

“I think we have an audience,” she said.

Darrell couldn’t stop himself and looked up in alarm—he knew it. Stan, that asshole, had to come along and ruin the best blowjob he’d had in years. He scanned the windows of Stan’s house. How had Sherrie even seen him? Her back was towards that side of the yard.

She stuck her tongue out and took a long, languorous lick of Darrell’s cock, starting at the bottom and going all the way up to the top, then wrapping her lips around the head, warm, soft, moist. Too soon, she let go again.

“I think it’s Lisa,” she whispered.

Darrell suddenly wanted her back on his cock, wanted to come so hard he’d splash the pool with the thick river of jizz that was building inside him. Lisa was watching them, watching his massive hard-on disappear into Sherrie’s mouth, watching Sherrie cup his balls and swallow him, watching Sherrie get off on feeling his big, powerful cock slide between her lips. He wanted to fuck her, fuck her so hard she cried, to show Lisa what he was capable of—to show her—

“I’m going to see if she’ll come down and join us,” Sherrie said. She looked straight up and waved, her tits bouncing around, she was motioning so enthusiastically.

—Lisa, coming down, right there, watching beside him while his cock was being, was being—maybe reaching down to touch herself, too—maybe reaching one hand out to him, to feel him—

Sherrie’s mouth returned to his cock and it was a match touching a fuse, a flame to gasoline. It poured out of him, huge, shuddering waves overwhelming him, receding, falling over top of him again. His stomach, his balls, his whole body ached as he emptied himself.

When he opened his eyes and tried breathing again, Sherrie was smiling. Her face was dripping, sticky, her lips and chin and cheek covered in it.

“Wow,” she said, and ran the back of her hand over her lips.

“Yeah,” Darrell managed.

Sherrie looked up and then back to Darrell. “I think she’s gone.”


“I might go have another swim,” she said. “Cool down a little.”


She leaned down and kissed him, his still half-hard penis, then stood and turned towards the pool. He watched her thighs, her ass cheeks, as she walked. When he could move again, when he could get going again, he’d take her upstairs and kneel her down, fuck her from behind, show her a really good time.

God, he loved that woman.

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