"VOYEUR"

Voyeur

By STEVESAINT

Used by permission of the author’s estate

A 12-year-old Lolita! My live-in girlfriend Stacy’s daughter was a lithe prepubescent nymphet who used every chance she got to drive me sexually crazy. Angie managed to wear the skimpiest, most provocative clothing when I was around; I always got at least one “oops” panty-shot whenever she was wearing a skirt or dress. Unbelievably, her mother let her wear a tiny string bikini with flimsy bra panels no bigger than postage stamps. Angie always exaggerated her strut when she was out by the pool in my presence, her tight little ass out there for all to see, and her little-girl points noticeably poking at their skimpy covering. I confronted my girlfriend about her daughter’s clothing and behavior, but she just laughed and said it’s a “girl-growing-up thing” and it shouldn’t bother me like it did. I knew what she was doing to me; what about all the boys at school? Could a 12-year-old be sexually active? I called her ‘prepubescent’ earlier, but how could this old fart know? Girls seemed to reach puberty much sooner than they did when I was a kid.

The daily teasing reached its pinnacle the day she walked topless into the house from the pool, knowing her mother had gone shopping and leaving us alone. I didn’t know what to say; I just stared at her.

She nonchalantly walked over to the fridge to get a soda, and said, “What’s the matter?” She paused to take a sip from the soda can. “It’s not like I have big boobs to show off or anything…besides, Mom’s got big boobs and she goes topless all the time around the pool when you’re not home.”

What’s this about topless when I’m not around? I shooed her away to her room to get dressed, not attempting to address the fact her little “boobs” were very worth showing off, indeed. They’re lovely little budding cones, centered by pink areolas with cute tiny nipples. Shit, I have to stop thinking about what I saw or I’ll get an erection. Little did Stacy know my heightened state of arousal lately was fueled by fantasies of her daughter.

She’s done it, I think; she’s driven me over the edge. The following Saturday, with both Stacy and Angie out for the day, I rigged a hidden camera in Angie’s bedroom. I was hypnotized by the mystery that was Angie’s little body, and I was going to spy on it. The web-cam sent video (no audio) to my computer, where I could watch it live or record the feed for later viewing. The next day I retreated to the computer room—my den—to watch what was recorded the prior evening.

The den was understood to be my sanctuary; Stacy knew not to bother me when I was in there. I watched the video in amazement, as Angie walked around her bedroom in only her panties. The real show began when she pulled an old, tattered Playgirl magazine from under her mattress and stripped off her panties. Where did the magazine come from, I wondered?

Her little girl ass and bald pussy were beautiful to behold! She lay on the bed and began leafing through the magazine until she found a photo layout she liked. While gazing at the pictures of some well-hung hunk, she began stroking herself, first slowly, and then increasing the intensity until she climaxed in what must have been a powerful orgasm. Her whole body convulsed as she arched her back and plunged one or two fingers deep into her pussy. Without realizing it, I had dropped my pants and was jerking off at the sight before me, spraying jism all over the computer table. Hiking my pants back up and cleaning up my mess, I pondered the mysteries that would unfold before me every night on the computer.

Stacy really surprised me the following Friday night. Angie announced she had invited a boy over to help with her homework that evening. The shock came when I saw the boy was obviously a couple of years older than Angie, and Stacy was allowing them to be in Angie’s room with the door closed. Was she that naïve? I not only knew what was going to go on in there, I was going to watch it!

Saturday morning I couldn’t wait to see what the computer had recorded. The kids wasted no time at all, as soon as the bedroom door was closed she was stripping off his shirt, and before long they were naked and fucking. What a turn-on to see this boy (how old was he—14, 15 maybe?) between Angie’s spread legs, pumping wildly into her. My hard-on was immense. Astonishingly for two horny kids, they seemed to climax together. She arched her back and placed a fist at her mouth to stifle an orgasmic scream at the same time his ass cheeks clenched repeatedly, shooting his seed into her. You might have said all three of us came together, my hefty spurts spraying into the air, soiling the chair, the computer keyboard, and me. I didn’t think I came so much since I was a teenager! And I certainly didn’t get to cum in a 12-year-old pussy when I was that age either!

A spark of anger flickered within me. How could Stacy allow this to happen? Falling for the “homework” bullshit—her daughter having unprotected sex, in her own house, with her mother in the next room, with an obviously older boy. But then again, what could I say, secretly watching the whole thing?

On Sunday morning, while alone with Angie in the kitchen, I said to her, “I don’t know how much fooling around you two did Friday night, but next time make sure you use a condom, okay?”

She was stunned by my remark and had trouble summoning a response. I got a little “We weren’t doing anything,” a little more “It’s none of your business,” and the obligatory (I’ve heard it a zillion time) “You aren’t my father,” thrown in for good measure. Oh well, maybe I scared her a little, which would be a good thing.

When I returned from a two-day business trip that week, I checked the computer to see what I missed. At first I see the usual, panties-only Angie in her room; however, the next day’s recording was the shocker. I fast-forwarded through several hours’ worth of an empty bedroom but was surprised by a blur of unexpected activity in the middle of the day. When I returned to where the movement began, I was stunned to see a wet and topless Stacy pulling two young shirtless men into the room behind her. I recognized these two as members of the pool company I hired to clean and maintain my swimming pool. Clothes flew everywhere as they quickly undressed, Stacy teasing the men by her exaggerated removal of her bikini bottoms. They fall to the bed; the first guy (blond, curly hair) going down on her as the second guy (dark hair, maybe Hispanic, with an impressively sized member—I think of him as “Mr. Hung”) sticks his cock in her eager mouth. They go at it like this for a few minutes until Stacy spits the dark-haired guy’s cock from her mouth, spins around and getting on hands and knees, offers her ass to him. Stacy may have gone slack with age in a few places, but her ass is still a glorious, round beauty. Mr. Hung sure admires it…as he grabs her by the hips and parts her pussy lips with his rigid member. Dark-haired Mr. Hung is pounding away at her from behind as she deep-throats the other guy in front. I know when Stacy came because I can see her sort of scrunch up and tremble like I’ve seen her cum with me before. She probably made some noise, but the cock stuffed in her mouth most likely muffled it. When the two guys climax, they both pull out of their respective orifices, spewing cum all over Stacy’s face and body. Spent, they lie on the bed for a while, then gather up clothes and leave the camera’s view. I’m pissed as hell, but also aroused by this very private XXX video I just watched. What am I going to do? What can I say? She’s supposed to be at work, not fucking two guys in her daughter’s bed, with no protection. It’s at least two hours before Stacy appears back in Angie’s room, fully clothed this time, to strip the soiled bedspread from the bed. Even while doing this menial task, I can see her post-orgasmic glow. Did more sex go on beyond the camera’s eye that afternoon? I had to find out.

That weekend I bought and rigged miniature web-cams in the master bedroom and bath, as well as a wide-angle one out by the pool. I think Stacy senses something wrong between us, but she can’t suspect I know she’s fooling around behind my back, or that I watched it happen. The best show I had during the week was the day Angie and a girl friend came home early from school to an empty house and skinny-dipped in our pool. I jerked off to the sight of these two blossoming flower buds frolicking in the water. No sex happened between the two girls, but there was a lot of touching and hugging going on, so who knows?

I had mixed feelings the next time I had to travel out of town. I feared Stacy would screw around again (in my house!), but I was also captivated by the idea of watching it if she did. When I returned home, one of the first things I did was check the computer. Oh yes, there sure was something to watch! The very first morning I’m gone, Stacy is home, topless again and flaunting it, talking with my neighbor Paul over the backyard fence. Before long Paul is lounging by my pool in these tight, show-everything Speedo trunks not at all flattering to his somewhat paunchy body. Eventually Stacy goes to him and they start making out. It’s apparent Paul is aroused, his stiffening member stretching the front of the Speedos to the limit. My mind is a jungle of emotional vines: Why is Paul home? I wonder if his pretty wife Karen knows he’s fooling around. How could Stacy do this to me? How long has she been fucking other men? Am I not good enough to satisfy her? Why am I getting an erection when I should want to kill both of them?

With both of them noticeably breathing hard, they jog into the house and head for the master bedroom. The suits come off and they get right to it. He’s lying on his back as she straddles him, lowering herself on his cock. Shit, no condom again—is she that uncaring to risk her health and mine? She rides him like one of those mechanical bulls, bucking up and down on him at a frenetic pace. I figure he came when I see his body tense up, but she wasn’t done yet, as she continued to pound her ass into his pelvis. Just then I notice a shadow at one of the windows, and realize it’s Angie playing peeping-tom, mesmerized by the sight of her mother fucking our neighbor. When Stacy had her orgasm she must have screamed—her head was back, her mouth wide open, and I could see Angie flinch, apparently from the sound. The show continued when Stacy and Paul jumped into the shower and soon were making out again. Under the spraying showerhead, Stacy turned, bent over slightly, and offered her ass to Paul’s once again turgid cock. Her ass is what he took. He used some soapsuds to lubricate her anus and then penetrated her, mercilessly thrusting into her rectum at a rapid pace. All it took was about 15 seconds of his thrusting to have her cum. He came soon after, throwing his head back, penetrating her to the hilt, his ass cheeks contracting at each spasm. My anger overcame the desire to masturbate. Stacy once had told me anal sex was disgusting, but not, I guess, with another man’s cock. However, the urge was quickly back when I switched files to the recording of Angie’s room and found her finger-fucking herself over the Playgirl centerfold, more than likely aroused by seeing her mother having sex. When Angie came, I came.

My anger was kicked up a notch when I viewed the next afternoon’s recordings. Stacy had obviously come home from work early and was again topless and talking to Paul over the pool fence. I was in disbelief when I saw Paul’s 15-year-old son Sean standing next to him ogling my girlfriend’s tits. Stacy nodded in answer to something Paul said and planted what looked like a wet kiss on Sean over the fence. Within a half-hour Sean was in my bed, between Stacy’s legs and fucking her like a maniac. He came in no time (I could see his skinny little runt ass twitching and tightening) but I couldn’t tell if she did or not. I was utterly furious…did she have no self-control? Again no condom! Was she that much of a whore? I admonished myself—How come I never saw this in her before?

I had invited Stacy into my house and into my life—maybe it’s time to un-invite her. First, there was something I needed to do. The next Saturday, while Stacy was visiting her sister for the day (or was she off doing some other guy?), I sat out by the pool and contemplated my plan. When Angie came out to the pool wearing her tiny bikini, I could see scorn on her face as she looked at me. I know what she’s thinking…I can’t be much of a man if my lover has to fuck other men. I called to her to sit next to me in the adjacent lounge chair. We needed to talk…to set my plan in motion.

“Look, Angie, I’m sorry life isn’t all what we expect it to be.” I hesitate, as she looks at me funny, not understanding yet where this will go. “I know your mother is screwing around with other men, and I know you know, too.” Her eyes bug out a little at this unexpected turn. “Ever since I met your mom, I’ve been faithful to her…I have not touched another woman…I always tried hard to make her happy, especially in bed.” I stop to gauge her reaction. “You’re old enough now to know about sex” (wow, is that an understatement); when she nods, I charge ahead, “It’s not always easy to figure out why good sex with a loving and caring partner isn’t enough for some people, like your mom.” I pause for a second, looking away. “I was going to ask your mother to marry me, but I guess I can’t now.” Looking into her eyes again, I see the scorn replaced by sadness and maybe a little apprehension. “All I ever wanted was to be a good lover to your mom and a good father to you…I know, I’m not your real father, as you’ve reminded me countless times…but I’ve tried, haven’t I?”

She says I’ve been a good father, which is somewhat of a surprise, remembering all her bad behavior toward me. I’m swinging for the fences now. “Angie, look at me.” I make a sweeping motion over my body. “Am I ugly? Fat? Did I somehow become undesirable?”

She answers as far as she’s concerned I’m a good-looking, fit man for my age and she doesn’t really understand her mother’s reasons for straying.

Time for the game winning homerun! “What’s wrong then? Maybe my cock isn’t big enough for her.” She becomes even more shocked when I pull my trunks down to reveal my member. “What do you think?” She’s speechless, staring at my cock in awe, certainly much larger than any of the boys’. I pull the trunks all the way off, throwing them away in a mock show of anger. “I’m sorry, you can’t answer that one…how can you judge a man’s anatomy?”

She stammers out “It looks nice to me” but doesn’t quite know what else to say. Yet she’s still staring at it.

I look away from her. “Oh hell…“nice” she says…maybe I DON’T have enough to satisfy a woman…even this beautiful young woman isn’t impressed,” I say, while placing my hand on her bare thigh.

Both my hand and “beautiful young woman” have the desired effect. She flushes considerably and leans over to touch my cock. “Your…penis is, like…wonderful” she murmurs, hypnotized by the sight and feel of it.

I’m not hung like some horse, but my 8 inches or so must look enormous to her. I turn back to face her and say “Thank you…you made me feel better,” giving her my best smile and her thigh a gentle squeeze.

In a further surprise, she tells me in a gasping voice she has always been jealous of her mother, and she would “think” about me all the time. Her touch is quickly getting me hard. My thickening erection startles and amazes her. A part of me is proud I measure up to the dudes in her Playgirl.

“I know you would satisfy me,” she whispers. The winning homer clears the fence!

“Why don’t we go inside and see if I can.”

She swoons a bit, almost fainting, her breathing more shallow and ragged. I scoop her up into my arms and carry her into the house to my bedroom. Having this supple little pre-teen body in my arms, knowing I was going to fuck her in the same bed I’ve shared with her mother—and knowing it was the same bed where her mother fucked other men—my cock was leaking so much pre-cum I could feel it dribbling like a stream down the erect shaft. I stood her up next to the bed and started to remove her bikini. On wobbly legs and breathing haltingly, she stood there while I first removed the little bra. I spent a few moments kissing and stroking her now-hard, tiny nipples. When I trace my fingers down her stomach toward removing her bottoms, she gasps again and rubs her chest against my body. I slowly ease the bottoms down her legs. I’m blown away by the amount of wetness in her crotch (has she cum already?) I lift her naked waif-like form off the floor and kiss her. She wraps her arms around my neck and reciprocates clumsily, not quite sure how to respond to my probing tongue. I’m holding her up with one hand under her ass cheeks, and I can feel a puddle of girl-juice forming on my palm. Shit, I’ll never even get it in her and I’ll cum, I’m so horny for her! While still locked in a kiss, I lower her onto the bed and lay next to her. My hands continue to lightly brush against her small breasts, her stomach and her thighs. She is wild with lust—short, rapid, wheezing breaths…her whole body hot and writhing. I whisper at her ear “I guess you’re ready to be loved by a real man.” Her eyes bug wide as I slide my finger between the folds of her soaked pussy and find her clitoris. She cries “uuuuuuuuUUUUUUUUUh-OOOOOOOh” loudly as she climaxes, her head dancing side-to-side and her legs clenching my hand like a vise.

I whisper again “I guess I can satisfy you…now I’ll satisfy you even more with my cock.”

Before she can really come down from this orgasm, I position myself between her legs and, placing a hand under each ass cheek, lift her up to me. I stare into her eyes—her heated, wild-eyed return look is priceless. How I must look to this 12-year-old…my six-foot-two frame looming above her and about to fuck her with my straight-up, throbbing manhood. I tease the shaft of my cock between her pussy lips and start to move up and down, no thought of penetration just yet, allowing my shaft to stroke her clit. Her follow-on orgasmic wave is tremendous…she screams and moans, her entire body convulsing. “Oh, Angie…I’m cumming,” I grunt, and she looks at me in wonder as I shoot several fountains into the air, coating her sweaty, pre-teen body with it. I lie down next to her again and kiss her, at the same time rubbing my semen leisurely all over her stomach and breasts. I’ve never been with another woman of any age who is as hot and aroused as Angie is right now; she’s had at least two orgasms and is apparently hungry for much more. She’s so aroused, breathing in short, rapid pants, it’s almost as if she’s in a hypnotic trance. I’m thinking this might be the most fantastic fuck of my life!

I roll over on my back and pull her on top of me. Her body is sticky-slippery from my cum. She kisses me with fervor as she grinds her pubic mound against my abdomen. I break off the kiss to whisper, “Why don’t we go take a shower together…would you like that?” Her eyes are aglow with an inner fire as she gives me a quick little nod. I lift her small form from the bed and carry her toward the master bathroom. When we get into the shower, she can hardly stand on her wobbly legs. I take my time soaping up the front of her then turn her around, rubbing my soap-filled hand over her ass cheeks while the hot water rinses her front. By the time I turn her again and ask, “Will you wash me now?” she almost faints again, her body red hot and her eyes glazed over as if stoned. Stoned on lust! She clings to me there under the shower, sleepily soaping up my growing-again cock and balls. In a few seconds I’m fully—and achingly—erect again. With the water rinsing us both off, she looks up and our eyes meet. There’s never been a better moment in my life (nirvana!) than when this 12-year-old nymphet asks, “will you…love…me?” I lift her as I did before and kiss her. I coax her to wrap her legs around my waist. Holding an ass cheek in each hand, I lower her slowly onto my erection, but stop before I penetrate her. I’m not going to be as stupid as Stacy. When Angie asks what’s wrong, I mention to her about using a condom. I pick her up into my arms and carry her back into the bedroom, oblivious to the water dripping from both of our wet bodies. I retrieve a condom from the hidden box in the dresser—the one I bought just last week (my plan!) Angie is enthralled in helping me roll it on. I can tell every time she looks at my cock she can’t seem to get her mind around its size, as if pondering how she’s going to get her girl vagina around it as well. “I want to make love to you just as we were going to do it in the shower,” I say to her as I lift her to me again. She wraps her arms around my head and her legs around my waist. She tries to kiss me again but can’t, since she’s breathing too hard. I lower her onto my cock. When the head pokes through her pussy lips and enters her, she gasps (did she stop breathing?) Extremely lubricated, her vagina takes my ascending cock about a quarter of its length, but the rest will be a stretch (sorry, that’s the pun that popped into my head just about then). As I continue to lower her onto me, the tightness was incredible. Her expression is one-fourth fear and three-fourths desire as my thick and throbbing cock (I’m about as horny as I’ve ever been!) stretches her. Full penetration will have to be a gradual process, I realize, so I begin to raise and lower her ass, setting the tempo of our copulation. She soon matches the rhythm as she bounces onto my condom-encased cock, making small “ugh” sounds as I stretch her more. I know I’ve penetrated her fully when the head of my cock bumps against her cervix. I can’t go any longer—the squeeze of her vagina, the feel of her pointed young breasts rubbing against my chest, the tautness of her ass cheeks in my hands, the look in her aroused eyes—I drop her all the way onto my cock, driving it to the hilt into her, groan, and cum in the most intense climax of my life. Her orgasm follows mine, her head thrown back and keening in ecstasy, intensified, I’m sure, by the fullness of it all and my cock striking her developing, pre-teen womb. At the exact moment her climax was most visibly obvious, I look toward the hidden camera lens and wink.

We drop onto the bed and lay in each other’s arms for a while. Her only word was “wow.” When I lazily trace my fingers around her breasts and down her stomach, she responds by humping my upper thigh with her crotch. I want her one more time. I get off the bed, remove the soiled condom from my still semi-hard member and get another one from the dresser, smiling and waving the foil packet at her. She reddens, holds her arms out to me, raises and spreads her legs—breathing again in the same rapid, panting way as before. All it took was the vision before me—spread girl-legs in the air and the hairless, pink, wet, swollen pussy waiting to be filled—and I’m completely erect again. I put the condom on and kneel between her legs. Her whole body is crying ‘fuck me.’ Without any reservations this time, I enter her. This one’s all for me, I think, as I lustfully hammer into her at a feverish pace, using my arms as support to keep from crushing her. Her orgasm is quick and explosive, her moans turning to screams and her entire body convulsing. As she cums, her vagina clenches down on my cock, making me shoot—seemingly forever—seven, eight, nine or more ejaculatory spasms in a mind-blowing climax!

Spent, in each other’s arms once again, I take this last opportunity to explore her young body with my hands. I will never fuck her again so I want to savor the moment. “Was it all you wanted it to be?” I ask, tweaking one of her little-girl points. She says to me “oh yes…yes it was.”

“Never mind age, you’re much more of a woman than your mother ever could be,” I tell her, laying it on real thick. “Why don’t we put clean suits on and go jump in the pool…” pausing for effect, “and maybe we can do it again before your mother gets home.” The wild-eyed, horny look is back in her eyes.

Yes, I managed to clean up the evidence of our lovemaking and get rid of the used condoms. Yes, we frolicked in the pool for a while, Angie reminding me underneath the sexually precocious exterior—the part of her that became a woman this day——she was still a 12-year-old girl. No, we had no more sex. When Stacy drove into the driveway, I reminded Angie to keep this day a secret, but I wasn’t really worried since it wouldn’t be a secret for long. Before moving into the house, I reached into Angie’s bottoms and gave her ass a squeeze, at the same time making a gesture toward the hidden camera.

The video was breathtaking. I could never have imagined how turned-on I’d be watching myself fucking, never mind doing it with a pre-teen girl. I spent Saturday evening and the next day burning all the best footage onto DVDs—my voyeuristic keepsake. Before reformatting my hard drive to get rid of all the evidence, I edited together two nice video ‘samplers,’ one for Stacy and the other for someone else. That evening when Angie announced she was going out with a girl friend, you should have seen the way she looked at me! I’m sure she’ll tell all her friends, but now I don’t care, the remainder of my plan set in motion.

I surprise Stacy by asking her if she’d like to watch a new video. When the video opens on Angie’s empty bedroom, Stacy doesn’t quite know what to make of it, and she looks at me quizzically. I answer her look by gesturing at the TV screen. When the clip suddenly jumps to her sucking and fucking the pool guys, her jaw drops, she turns beet red and spins in anger toward me, but I cut her off with an angry look of my own, pointing back at the screen. The video has now switched to her and Paul. She reacts by jumping from the sofa and lunging toward the DVD player. I leap after her, grabbing her by the wrist and throw her back onto the sofa. When the video clip cuts to Sean pumping away between her legs, she is livid, but I can see panic now starting to edge its way in. For my part, I’m letting my anger flow freely; I know she can easily sense my barely-under-control rage.

“What a bitch you are…whoring inside my house…”

“But I…how?” She stammers, but I cut her off.

“Fucking a 15-year-old kid! I can’t believe it! How many men HAVE you been fucking behind my back?” She looks at me pleadingly, but doesn’t answer.

“You don’t even have the sense to protect yourself…and me…getting fucked in every hole…” She groans when the scene switches to Paul taking her in the ass in the shower. “At least I have the sense to wear protection,” I utter while holding up one of the condom wrappers between two fingers.

She can’t seem to get this last idea to register in her panicky brain, staring at me again with a puzzled look on her face. I wiggle the wrapper a little and point it at the TV. When she refocuses on the action on the screen, she gasps at the sight of Angie bouncing up and down on my cock and climaxing. My wink into the camera at that moment was precious, eliciting the predictable reaction from Stacy. When the clip switches to me thrusting between Angie’s legs, she completely loses it and comes at me with fists flying. I grab her wrists before she can land any serious blows and pin her back to the sofa, bellowing in her face, “You TAUGHT her, bitch! She watched you fuck Paul…in my bed…you probably gave her that old copy of Playgirl she’s been frigging herself over.” I pause for a second to catch my breath. “She’s been fucked by boys from school, without any protection…what a proud moment you’ll have when she tells you she’s pregnant at 12 or 13!” Stacy starts to cry, but I’m not finished. “I put the cameras in because I knew you were fucking around (I lied, so sue me)…and this is my last statement on the matter,” forcing her head to turn and look at the TV one more time. The last frozen image on the screen is of me by the pool with one hand feeling Angie’s ass while the other is raised in a middle finger salute.

I kicked her out that day. I told her she was to pack her and Angie’s things into her SUV that evening and be gone for good. She protested and tried to apologize, but I told her I didn’t care where they went, they weren’t to stay one more night under my roof. A predictable look flickered in her eyes, but I cut her off before she could say anything. “Don’t even TRY to get me in trouble for doing Angie…don’t forget, I have a video of you and Sean…what a lovely couple…hey, I wonder how Karen will react to THAT video?”

For that is whom the other video sampler was for. Right about now I’m sure Paul is out on his ass too. Maybe Karen will storm over here to confront Stacy about Sean, but probably Stacy will be gone before then. It doesn’t matter. Stacy’s aghast, angry, afraid and a few other A’s I can’t think of right now, but the matter is over, she’s out of here forever.

What a quiet week it’s been since the girls are gone. His wife had indeed kicked out Paul, and I heard she already contacted a divorce lawyer. The following Saturday I got up enough nerve to approach Karen while she was getting out of her car. Before she could say anything, I apologized for sending the video. It’s human nature for her to hate me as much as Paul and Stacy since I was the one to expose the whole thing, so she surprised me by her lack of hostility today. She told me she understood how I felt, and understood why I secretly recorded the “affair,” as she called it. (If only she knew the real reason.)

Never socializing, even though we were neighbors, I was looking at Karen with new eyes today. She’s a pretty, though not gorgeous, petite brunette, who always seemed to me to be a very nice, classy lady. We talked for a while there in her driveway. “Karen,” I chimed, “You and I have been hurt a lot…I’m not intending anything more than to be a friend…would you, and Sean if he’s home, like to come over this evening for a pool-side cookout? I’ll fire up the grill, throw a few steaks on…” I smile to her and add, “Dammit, I sure could use the company.” She smiled back and said “Sure.” When she dropped over later, she was wearing a pretty, flowered summer dress—a lot dressier than my shorts, t-shirt and sandals. She explained Sean was still a little embarrassed to face me, so it would be just her and me. “It’ll take some time, I’m sure…I guess I wouldn’t want to face the guy whose girlfriend I had screwed, either.” I saw the pained expression on her face, and quickly apologized for my poor choice of words.

We had a great time. I discovered many things that evening about the neighbor I never really knew. She likes dark beer—a woman after my own heart! Once I fretted over grilling up the two prime steaks (to perfection, I might add), we settled down at the poolside table and ate, drank beer and talked. She told me about her work as a paralegal. She told me some anecdotes of her “crazy youth,” as she called it, growing up fatherless in a Midwestern state. She even told me a few really funny lawyer jokes. We steered away from any talk of what just happened to both of us, but I did get the impression from things she said her marriage to Paul had not been a particularly happy one. We were both surprised when we looked at our watches to see it was 12:30PM. She helped me clean up and bring things into the house, then said goodnight. Before leaving, I held her hands in mine and said, “Karen, I had a fantastic time tonight…don’t be a stranger, ok?” No promises were exchanged, no commitments made, except we would stay in touch with each other.

We became friends that summer. Karen and Sean used my pool often. Our “dates” were the frequent weekend cookouts, where we did nothing more than hold hands occasionally. She always wore a demure, almost old-fashioned, one-piece suit in my pool. I marveled at Karen’s youthful figure, nothing big and flashy about her, yet trim and athletic, with everything in the right place as far as I was concerned. One Saturday we went on a real date, driving up to a local microbrewery to check out their offerings, and then to dinner at my favorite restaurant. That was the day I knew I was in love. We kissed for the first time; releasing some of the pent-up longing for each other that had been growing over the summer. The next day, I invited her over. I had set my small TV out by the pool; we’d watch the game, have a few beers and enjoy the beautiful weather. For some reason she had this devilish grin on her face when she arrived at my door. “OK if I use your bathroom to change into my suit?” She asks, holding up her tote bag, indicating what was in it. I knew what the grinning was all about when she comes out of the house wearing the sexiest string bikini imaginable——how could three small triangles of pink fabric be so compelling? The sight of her floors me. She must have been using a tanning bed naked, since no tan lines could be seen. Her ass cheeks are tight and solid, her stomach flat with well-defined abs, and her breasts look very firm, with a sexy upturn to them. Her nipples are prominently showing through the bra cloth, as the bulge is prominent in my shorts. She breathlessly asks, “You like?” pirouetting to let me get a good look. As Angie did earlier this summer, all I can say is “wow.” All she has to do is look at the front of my shorts to see that “I like.” She explains she bought the bikini while on vacation last summer when Paul bought his Speedos, but had been too timid to wear it anywhere since. She was as giddy as a young girl on prom night. I knew we would consummate our love that day.

We watched the game, cooked some burgers on the grill, had a few beers and splashed in the pool. The sight of her emerging from the pool with her miniscule suit, soaking wet, leaving nothing to the imagination, completely turned me on, my cock fully erect and seriously stretching the fabric of my trunks. She walks up to me and kisses me while rubbing her body against my bulge. Like two horny teenagers, we jog into the house and head for the bedroom. By the time we hit the bed we’re both naked. I mention “condom” and she shakes her head no, with fire in her eyes. The whole summer has been foreplay, I guess. I immediately mount her and we make love with animalistic intensity. Our climaxes are earthmovers. Our sweat, our limbs, our cries, our juices all merge in perfect harmony. We spend the rest of the day exploring each other’s bodies, discovering each other’s pleasure triggers. She’s the most energetic lover I’ve ever been with, eager to give as well as receive. At one point, I think how could Paul be so stupid…to fuck around and throw this magnificent woman aside? We did it in the shower, back on the bed, and even on the floor. While dressing to go home, she chuckles that she’s never been this sore in all her life. When she called it “good sore” we both laughed and hugged each other in a long embrace. I love this woman! She giggles and states she’s disappointed the camera wasn’t still recording. “What an X-rated movie we would have made today!” she adds, and we both laugh hysterically.

It would be two months before I showed her the video. Yes, I kept the one camera in the bedroom. Who knows, maybe I was just preparing for the next woman to be in my bed. She fucked my brains out that night, startlingly aroused by watching herself perform for the first time. We now make it a regular part of our lovemaking to watch the videos, lovingly critiquing each other’s technique, making a game of it.

The divorce proceedings are moving along slowly. They had to sell the house to pool assets, so Karen and Sean moved in with me. By now Sean knows I hold no ill will toward him for fucking Stacy…hey, he was just a horny teenager with a willing whore. And he knows I love his mom. Only once have I pulled out the stashed DVDs and watch them. It’s still quite a turn-on to see me fucking Angie again, and I masturbate enthusiastically while watching. However, I realize even the forbidden fruit of a 12-year-old’s tight pussy can’t compare with making love with Karen. I propose to Karen the following night and she accepts, crying tears of happiness. We set a date for the following summer, when her divorce would be final. She smothered me with love that night, sucking my cock dry, then coaxed me back to rigidity and rode me like a cowgirl riding her stallion. Before I cum, I marvel of the creature riding me; her beautiful firm breasts bouncing, mouth open and moaning in pleasure.

When I watch the video the next day, my eyes are drawn to an unusual sight on the screen. Karen is standing naked before the dresser mirror and admiring her belly. Why haven’t I noticed the little swelling of her tummy, and how her breasts are a little more full lately? She turns sideways and rubs the contours of her once-flat stomach, then looks up to the camera and winks.

I start to cry; as with hers, my tears are tears of joy.

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