In the Neighbourhood

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Chapter 37: A Little More

Zsolt watched Elena, but he knew that she, out of the corner of her eye, was watching him too.

She was wearing that dress, the one that was like a t-shirt but longer. When she first brought it home, like an idiot he’d told her not to wear it outside. It was comfortable, she’d told him, so he said fine, wear it inside so she could be comfortable and he could be comfortable and the neighbours could be comfortable too.

But lately she’d worn it outside, just to run out and take some laundry off the line, or to carry the garbage to the curb. Zsolt watched from the window, watched the grey and blue stripes stretch across her ass like a handprint. Watched her nipples shift under the fabric. Somehow he hadn’t imagined that she’d be nude under there. In a way, she was more nude with the dress on than with it off. The dress told you where to look, told you how to look.

They’d been fucking a lot lately. He hoped she was careful about the birth control medicine; sure, they wanted a baby or two, but getting her pregnant would ruin all of this. For now, things were great the way they were.

It was becoming a game, a sexy, exciting game. Yesterday, he’d been on the phone in the morning with Nicolo, his brother back home. Nothing much to talk about but he hadn’t called in a couple of months. Nicolo was annoying on the phone, um um ah well you see—and this cost over two dollars a minute.

So he had just started talking, standing and leaning on the fridge, rolling his eyes at Nicolo’s unnecessary blathering. Then Elena appears out of nowhere, pulls his cock out of his pants, and starts sucking him off. Here he is, trying to concentrate on whatever Nicolo is going on about, car repairs or some fucking thing, and here’s his wife on the end of his knob, not minding a thing!

She didn’t even look up until he started to come, holding his breath so that he didn’t give himself away to his brother. Elena looked up, looked him in the eye, straining to contain his cock and what felt like a gallon of cum. She smiled a little and let him slide slowly out of her mouth, but the little minx flicked the end of her tongue against the very edge of his head, right at the bottom, and he gasped.

“Are you all right?” Nicolo asked.

“Just a little gas—tomatoes from breakfast,” Zsolt said. “You were saying?” And then Elena clutched his balls tightly and he gasped again. It took maybe fifty dollars to get rid of Nicolo.

He got his own back, though Elena got out of the shower and wrapped the big blue towel around herself while Zsolt innocently brushed his teeth. He pounced before she knew he was coming. He grabbed the towel tight so she couldn’t move her arms, bent her over the counter, and flipped the bottom of the towel up to expose her pussy. She struggled a bit, but the look of surprise on her face, clearly visible in the mirror, had him as horny as he’d ever been.

He jammed himself into her, which wasn’t all that easy—shower-wet wasn’t the same as pussy-wet, after all—but she had raised her ass, arched her back to take him. “You want to play games?” he hissed in her ear, his face crowded next to hers in the mirror. “You want to make me cum while I’m on the phone? How about now, then?”

A smile, full of delight, flickered across her face, but it was replaced by a different look of delight right away—eyes rolling, teeth clenched, head bouncing up and down. Zsolt pumped her like crazy, clenching the towel in both fists and using it to bury his cock deeper, deeper inside her.

He looked down at his cock, almost a blur as it shot like a piston again and again into her little cunt, and that was enough. He pulled out, squeezed his cock in the cleft between her ass cheeks, and let the cum gush out against her skin, thrusting a few more times so that the silky wet jizz coated his heaving cock, her quivering asshole.

That was yesterday. He’d slept like an old cat last night, wrapped around Elena’s little naked body, his mind blissfully clear of everything but her soft, warm skin. But now it was Sunday afternoon, and he was bored and restless, and Elena was wearing that little blue and grey dress.

She hurried by with a basket of laundry, and he reached out and caught the elastic bit at the bottom of the dress between his finger and thumb. It snapped back more softly than he’d hoped, but she’d shouted a curse at him without slowing down. Zsolt enjoyed the view of her ass, tensing as she rushed up the stairs.

She went outside, and he went to the front window to watch. The bunch of little pots she’d picked up at the gardening store yesterday morning, he guessed. Sure enough, she got a trowel and started to poke around in the two big planters on the porch.

Elena worked right in front of him, only six or eight feet away, but with her back to him. Her arms, her shoulder blades, her spine, the curve of her waist—the dress pulled and stretched and he saw everything. And the way she was kneeling, the big red pot between her knees, anyone walking by could look up and see her woman’s hair. Even the neighbours could see from across the street, her bare thighs, her dark lips, her tits pushing into the fabric.

He should make her come inside, take off the dress, and go back out and finish. Or better yet, he should rip the dress off of her.

Yes—he should rip it open, expose her, leave her shaking and embarrassed, trying to cover herself. And once it was ripped open, she’d have no way to stop him from pulling it off her.

His cock was already hard, straining against the jogging pants so forcefully that the waistband was away from his waist. Send her outside after ripping the dress off? Maybe. Or maybe—

The door banged open and Elena appeared, clapping her hands to get rid of the dust. She stopped when she saw Zsolt. “What’s wrong?”

“Come here,” he said. His voice was thick and a little bit ragged; he realized he was going to scare her. That wasn’t a bad thing, but it had to be in the right way. “I wanted to talk to you about something,” he added, trying hard to keep his voice from sounding threatening.

“Sure,” she said, and came over to stand in front of him. One fist was balled up and rested on her hip, and the dress was just tight enough across her belly—yes, he looked down and checked, and he was sure—he could even see where it touched the dark fur of her pussy.

He pinched the dress at her waist and let it go. “Didn’t we talk about wearing this dress outside?” he said.

“I was only on the porch,” she said, smirking. “Is that too far from the door, now?”

“Showing your pussy to the whole neighbourhood, too,” Zsolt said, and grabbed the bottom of her dress to lift it up. She stepped back in alarm, her dress a wide pyramid between them.

She laughed slightly, as if not sure whether he was kidding or not, but Zsolt wasn’t sure either. She grasped the dress and pulled, freeing it from Zsolt’s hand. “You’ll tear it,” she complained.

“Oh, will I?” he laughed—it didn’t seem funny, it seemed very serious, and Elena looked and sounded truly scared. He reached for her neck and she froze, eyes wide.

He was only grabbing the dress, didn’t she understand that? But he was no longer in control, his hands were doing it all, his hands and his cock. He took the top of the dress, right below her throat, in both hands and he pulled.

He thought it would take a couple of tries, but no, the dress just fell away from her, opening wide to reveal her two white breasts, two rose-red nipples, her chest, her belly all the way down to her navel.

Horrified, he looked into her face, stricken with terror. Her hands were on his fists, so weak he hadn’t even noticed them as he ripped her dress away. They were locked together in this scary, unexpected dance, her nude body, tiny and white, exposed to him in shameful glory.

She softened, almost imperceptibly. Not the eyes—they remained round and still—but the mouth, a slight twitch that Zsolt was sure meant she understood—that maybe she even liked it.

“You told me,” she whispered, dropping her hands away.

“Showing the whole street your cunt,” Zsolt said, his voice almost a whisper too.

“I want them all to see my pussy,” she breathed. “The whole street.”

Zsolt tugged again, and the dress fell open further, all the way to the bottom elastic, down around her thighs. “You little slut,” he said. He would never say such things to her—he would never mean it. But he knew she wanted to hear it right now.

“I am a slut,” she agreed, coming closer. “I’ll fuck anyone who wants me.”

His mind raced; how to answer that; This crazy beast of a woman—how could he have known this dangerous lust was lurking inside her?

He had taken too long, and she wasn’t willing to wait. “You need to punish me,” she said.

“Yes,” he agreed eagerly, not sure how he should accomplish that.

She placed a hand on his bulging pants. “You need to show everyone my pussy is for you,” she said. Her voice was growing stronger, almost angry with its authority.

He put his hand on her, on her hip, and pulled her close, feeling his way down her cheek, squeezing it hard. “For me,” he echoed.

She moved back suddenly, out of his grasp, reached down, and pulled. The dress came apart at last, hanging from her shoulders down her sides, her body a radiant, floodlit stage between the dangling blue and grey curtains.

Elena whipped around and leaned forward, placing her hands, yes, right there on the big bay window at the front of the house. “Yes,” she said, her voice a panicked screech, “fuck me—fuck me right now—” Her hand dove down, and she leaned over so he could see her fingers slide between her slick moist lips. “Now—now—fuck me—yessssss—”

Zsolt’s track pants dropped to his knees and he entered her with all the power he had in him. “Hard!” she screamed, and he drew up even more strength, every muscle and nerve, every molecule forced into his cock as he burst into her again, again, again.

She started bucking, meeting each thrust with one of her own. Both hands were bracing against the window, her back taut with effort.

“Hit me,” she ordered, and reached back to direct Zsolt’s hand. He slapped her ass. “Harder,” she shouted. He put some shoulder into it, looked with a strange pride at the red handprint that he left. Every rapid stroke punched another yelp from her. “Yes—yes—fuckme—hitme—hard— hard—”

The movement of a car passing on their street caught him, and again he marvelled at this little demon, this succubus, and she turned her head towards him just then, biting her lip, then smiling, then moving forward pressing herself, her whole nude body, against the window while he fucked her.

His lungs were on fire, his breath rasped in his throat. He mustered one last slap, drew an anguished cry and a spasm from her, her pussy tightening on his cock, but he continued to fuck her, wormed his one hand between the window glass and her nipple, caught it between two fingers, squeezed it, and then burst within her, not slowing, fucking her harder harder harder as every drop of juice was buried as deep inside her as he could go, until his last ragged breath left him and he had nothing, nothing left.

He sank to his knees and she collapsed on top of him. They fell together to the floor, panting.

“Do you think anyone was watching?” he murmured, when he was able to.

“I hope so,” she said, and clutched his thigh between hers for a moment, releasing a fluttering sigh from her lips.

Full of surprises, this one. The front window of the house, in broad daylight. What would be next? Would they top this, too?

She laced one arm under his. “You are an amazing lover,” she said, her voice sleepy.

“You—” he started, but couldn’t think of how to say it the right way. She was still, waiting to hear him speak.

“You’re such a little slut,” he said, and she smiled, which made him smile, and they nestled closer together on the carpet, bathed in the warm afternoon sunlight streaming through the window.

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