© Copyright 2003 by frog, all rights reserved, except those described below. Permission is granted to download, archive, and repost provided that the contents are not altered, including the disclaimers, copyrights and limitations on use and provided that no fee is charged for access. This story is erotic fiction intended for adult entertainment. The author does not necessarily condone or endorse the behavior described in this story. All persons and events in this story are completely fictitious and ANY similarity to persons living or dead or to actual events is purely coincidental.
John Watson, popular young college professor, groaned as an errant ribbon of cum arched over the safety net of toilet tissue in his lap and landed directly on the mouth of a big-breasted Penthouse magazine model whose picture had been the focus of his fantasy. More and more of late, John found himself stroking his own cock in attempt to satiate his horniness. His almost perpetual state of arousal was taking a toll on his mental health.
It started with the daily parade of lithe young maidens wearing very short skirts and very tight tops in his college classroom. During the hot, sultry September remnants of summer, his classes always included at least two or three glimpses of delicate panties in a variety of colors and textures accompanied by vast expanses of fit, tanned thighs and devilish smiles. Perky young breasts, firm and taut, also seemed to appear everywhere he looked. From his podium view, at least one or two sets of erect nipples were on proud display at any given moment. After teaching a couple of classes, John could barely think of anything other than the urge to rush home and either jack off or screw his wife's ears off.
Unfortunately, John's lovely wife, Julie, was very pregnant. He loved Julie dearly, but with each passing day, sex became more and more uncomfortable and inconvenient for the both of them. Matters were made worse by the fact that two beautiful, sexy women lived just across his back driveway in an adjacent duplex. And, in the other half of his own duplex resided the somewhat less beautiful, but far more voluptuous wife of an assistant football coach at the college.
That very afternoon John had been forced to enjoy the not-so-faint sounds of the coach's wife screaming with lust. She was just inches away on the other side of the thin wall that separated the two duplex apartments. Her moans and cries were accompanied by the sound of the muscular coach pounding his wife into their bed's headboard which, in turn, ricocheted off the wall in a pulsating rhythm. It had taken John only one Forum story from his well-worn Penthouse and a small dab of KY jelly to coax streams of hot cum out of his now withering cock. A feeling of frustration hovered over him even as he wiped the stray jism off of his faithful old magazine.
Jacking off simply is not as rewarding as the "real" thing, John thought. Not exactly a Nobel Prize winning discovery.
In the Watson's upscale neighborhood, four garages of two large duplexes backed up to a common driveway. The broad strip of concrete functioned as a playground for young children and an unofficial commons area for the adults. Across the drive from John lived a young airline pilot, Ray Cooper; his wife, Joy; their three less-than-school-aged kids; and an Austrian foreign exchange student named Irma who served as live-in nanny for the children.
On the other side of John's place resided Coach Angus Murray, who everyone called Max for no apparent reason, and his plain, but well endowed wife, Mary. Max was one of those rugged, square jawed, muscular jocks who God had blessed with a six-pack abdomen, bright orange-red hair, a broad gleaming smile, likely a big dick, and, conversely, a rather small brain. He had no hope of becoming a rocket scientist (he probably could not spell either "rocket" or "scientist") and, when the conversation strayed too far from football, Max quickly ran out of things to say. His wife, Mary, massive mammaries and all, rarely spoke at all to John or anyone else for that matter. In moments of orgasmic ecstasy, however, she obviously was very outspoken-a screamer, if you will.
John had just gotten himself zipped up, the soiled tissue flushed, and his vintage "dirty" magazine stashed, when he heard a car drive up next door. From his upstairs bedroom window overlooking the driveway, he peeped out just in time to see statuesque Joy Cooper immerge from her family van followed closely and boisterously by her children, two boys and one girl, all hyperactive.
Joy was a tall, willowy businesswoman who always looked elegant and professional, even when she jogged early every morning. Her scanty jogging attire revealed a lot more than did her business suits. John had fallen into a pattern of working at his bedroom desk early each morning just so he could watch Joy begin her daily routine while wearing one of those enticing outfits. She practiced a stretching and bending ritual before each run. John knew and appreciated all the parts of her system, especially those that pulled the soft fabric of her running shorts tight against her very shapely ass.
Joy's long, trim legs seemed to reach down forever before touching the ground. John loved the way the lean muscles in her legs became more defined and blushed red at the end of her exercise. On the hottest days she shed her usual tee shirt and ran wearing only jogging bra and shorts. Those days were John's favorites because he was rewarded with the additional thrill of firm nipples protruding against soft fabric after exposure to the morning air. Observing Joy in the morning was magical for John.
Watching Joy in the afternoon wasn't bad either. John silently observed her now as she shouted instructions to her children. An instant after exiting the van, they were running in three distinctly different directions. Joy began to unload sacks of groceries out of the back of the van. John smiled as one wayward plastic bag slipped well under her back seat forcing Joy to lean far over to retrieve it. In doing so, her skirt rose to dizzying heights on the backs of her legs, the darker part of her pantyhose came into clear view, and John was sure that he caught a glimpse of that marvelous juncture of ass and thighs. To John's delight Joy struggled for a long moment, but still the bag remained out of reach.
Just as she was about to make another attempt, Irma, the young Austrian nanny, hopped out of the passenger side of the van, motioned Joy back, and lithely climbed into the back of the vehicle.
Irma and Joy were opposites in so many ways. Joy was dark, olive, and brunette; Irma was light, pink, and blond. Joy was tall, lanky, and athletic; Irma was petite and delicate. Joy was a mature, elegant woman with a family; Irma was a lively college girl in the midst of a grand adventure in a foreign country. Both women made John's cock quiver at a simple glance.
As Irma climbed in after the elusive grocery bag, John watched closely. At first, her very short denim skirt hampered the assault. She glanced quickly about, convinced herself that no one was looking, and then hiked her skirt high. That treated John to a dazzling, though maddeningly brief, look at Irma's tiny green panties. Even this soon after masturbating, Joy and Irma rekindled the urge within him and made his cock hard once again.
"Jesus Christ, I am horny," shouted John aloud.
His exclamation surprised even him. He quickly pulled the drapery closed for fear that somehow his neighbors had heard him. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the window frame.
Just then, John's wife, Julie, arrived home from an extended shopping trip. She burst through the back door, rushed up to their bedroom, and tossed an armload of packages in assorted sizes on the bed.
"God, it is hot out," she moaned while standing in the middle of the room rippling the neckline of her blouse in and out.
John looked longingly at his lovely wife of four years. Even wearing a sweaty frown, she had a beautiful face. John had always found her stunning, even though her distended belly now was her most prominent feature. At this very moment, however, all John could think about were his chances of talking Julie into giving him a much-desired blowjob sometime. He looked at her luscious, full lips and, in his imagination, he could almost feel them softly closing around his turgid cock.
"I am completely and totally exhausted," sighed Julie. "Until this baby comes I simply cannot shop on a hot day like this one without almost killing myself. I'm going to take a quick shower and go to bed. There is leftover chicken for you in the fridge, honey. I already ate with Marjorie. I just had to... couldn't wait. Sorry. I was starving. And, afterwards I had this intense desire for a banana split... oh, god... it was soooo good... I can't believe I ate the entire thing. I even licked the bowl. Now I feel terrible. I love you, honey."
With that, the bathroom door closed and John's hopes for a blowjob, or any other job for that matter, vanished.
Not that he had high hopes anyway. Julie was what John described, to himself only of course, as a rather conventional lover... passionate, responsive, fully orgasmic, but not adventurous. She would have died before she allowed herself to moan loudly while being slammed against the bedroom wall in the way that Mary Murray had done just moments ago. That sort of thing in movies or real life elicited only rolled eyes and signs of disgust from Julie.
When John heard the water in the shower come on, he made his way to the kitchen and sat with head in hands. Visions of Irma's green panties and Joy's long muscular legs danced in his head. After a long moment, he gathered himself and walked to the refrigerator.
To his surprise, magnets on the door supported a magazine picture of ultra-thin actress Nicole Kidman in a magnificently revealing, virtually skintight outfit. The caption underneath, written in Julie's handwriting read, "You'll never look like this if you eat like a pig."
Julie's message clearly was only for herself, but the picture was John's last straw. Nicole Kidman's tight, small, round breasts and long trim legs were exactly like Joy's, and Nicole's fairest of fair skin, mischievous eyes, and captivating smile were just like Irma's. The thought of fucking Nicole Kidman and slamming her against the bedstead a la Mary Murray sent John's cock into pre-coital preparedness. The throbbing in John's temples began to imitate the rhythm on the bedroom wall.
"I am going fucking crazy," John muttered to the refrigerator.
Its only response was to dump a noisy load from its icemaker.
"Thanks... a lot," answered John. He rested his head against the cold white porcelain door and closed his eyes.
The next day, a chain of events was set in motion that would change John's life forever. It started with a phone call from Joy Cooper.
"John," said the silky smooth voice in the receiver. "This is Joy from across the alley. I'm sorry to bother you on a Saturday morning, but I have a big favor to ask. Ray is flying, Irma has gone with the kids to the park, and I have to meet a client in the city, so we'll all be gone most all day. I am expecting a package-a case of wonderful wine-to be delivered this morning and I don't want it to bake in the hot sun until someone gets home later. Would you be a dear and set it inside for me?"
"Sure," said John. He loved the sound of Joy's voice. It hinted of honey-sweet breathiness, businesslike and sultry at the same time. "I'm happy to do so. How will I get in your house?"
"We most often leave the door from the garage unlocked, but if not, there is a key hidden on a hook in the cabinet nearest the back steps. I appreciate this very much. We'll even share a great bottle with you, but you'll have to save it until after the baby comes so Julie can have some too."
"No problem," said John. "I was planning on grading papers most of day anyway. I'll be here."
A short while later, a giant UPS truck rolled up at the Cooper's duplex and the driver left a heavy looking cardboard container. John watched the truck come and go. Then he made his way through the garage and into the Cooper's house.
When John walked into the eerily silent, deserted house, a voyeuristic thrill surged through his body. He was alone where Joy and Irma lived and could do anything he wanted while there-a most intriguing, stimulating thought. The feeling sent signals directly to his cock. In turn, it began to ready itself for action.
John retrieved the wine from the front porch, then stealthily made his way back through the house and into the center of the Cooper's greatest intimacy, their master bedroom. It smelled just like Joy-a particular delicate and intoxicating fragrance that seemed to follow her always. It was one of John's favorite scents.
John glanced quickly around the room. It was a typical bedroom-with assorted chairs, a large computer, various tables and dressers, and a giant king-sized bed. John began to imagine the activity that surely must go on in that soft bed, namely, Ray Cooper fucking Joy whenever he want to do so.
Without really thinking, John opened the top drawer of a dresser near the door. Inside he found a cache of Joy's carefully folded lingerie. He picked a pair of her lacy panties and brought them to his nose. Again, Joy's characteristic scent, more vivid this time, filled his senses. The thought of where those very panties had touched sent chills through John and made his cock begin to swell and tingle.
John, you pervert, he thought, when was the last time you got turned on by sneaking into someone's underwear drawer... sixth grade, maybe... yep, sixth grade with Mom's underwear! John almost laughed aloud at his private little memory.
John replaced Joy's panties and ran his fingers delicately over one of her bras. He noted its size and nestled the cup in the palm of his hand.
So, that's about the size of them, he mused. Smallish, but firm, I bet... no sag even after three children. I hope Julie keeps her figure like that after our kid comes.
John moved quietly across the room and surveyed the nightstands on either side of their huge, king-sized bed. On one, a copy of Sports Illustrated rested under a dog-eared copy of Tom Clancy's Clear and Present Danger... obviously Ray's side. Atop the other nightstand, a romance novel by someone named Heather Graham was neatly arranged along with Stephen Covey's Seven Habits of Highly Effective People... Joy's side, reckoned John.
John eased open Ray's drawer. Roy, you naughty boy, thought John. Inside were a couple of dirty novels along with a really nasty porn magazine.
So Ray needs a little help in getting revved up on occasion! Hard to imagine that he would need extra stimulation with a wife like Joy. I get a hard on just watching her unload groceries for crying out loud.
John fixed the drawer and its contents as he had found them and moved to Joy's side of the bed. Along the way, he carefully roughed up the carpet to disguise the footprints he was leaving in the thick pile. He carefully pulled open Joy's drawer and his eyes popped at what he saw inside. John's heart began to pound audibly.
There in Joy's drawer was a soft, rubber vibrator about four inches in length. It had ribs and bumps along its sides and came to a soft tapered point on the end. John immediately put the illicit little machine to his nose. It had a marvelously musky odor of Joy and sex... Joy's sex.
John mind began to race.
I guess... when Joy is home and horny and Ray is off piloting planes somewhere, this is how she takes care of herself. Maybe she even does it while talking to Ray on the phone or something.
In his imagination, John envisioned the always unruffled, dignified businesswoman Joy sprawled out in bed and locked the throes of an orgasm with this vibrator pressed deep inside her pussy. That image made his cock spring to full attention and yearn to be stroked.
John turned the knob on the back of the bullet-shaped object and suddenly it came to life. John contemplated the vibrator for a moment and then touched it to his crotch. Delicious tingles surged through his hard cock.
Suddenly, an out of place sound came from outside the duplex. John's heart leaped. He hurriedly returned the vibrator to the drawer and ran through the duplex to its back window. His heart was pounding. The driveway however was empty. He then ran to the front window. Again, there was nothing. John's could feel his pulse throbbing in his head. The danger of discovery and the thrill of the voyeur combined into a powerful aphrodisiac. All of John's senses and his libido were on highest alert.
John crept back past a slightly open door and quickly recognized it as the entry to Irma's room, a sparsely decorated domicile of a college student obviously living in temporary quarters. A bed, computer desk with two full-sized machines, bookshelf made from concrete blocks, and chest were pretty much it for furniture. Posters of the "Motherland" were pinned to the walls. Clothes and other belongings were strewn about. Pictures of Irma with various friends, mostly boys, lined the edges of a large mirror over the chest of drawers.
Irma's lingerie drawer was very different from Joy's, John discovered. Nothing was folded. Instead everything was in one great pile. Mixed together were tiny string bikini panties and even tinier thongs, mere wisps of almost transparent fabric, along with a few of her bras made of miniscule bits of lace or satin. The biggest surprise was a very large box of condoms resting along side her lingerie.
Multicolored... ribbed for maximum pleasure, the box read. John's heart rate immediately increased.
Apparently little Irma is, as they say, sexually active... probably is fucking some of those muscle-bound near idiots who populate my classes, thought John.
That image stimulated John's already overactive imagination once again and his cock responded accordingly. He could almost see a smiling Irma, legs spread apart, beckoning some pimple-faced undergraduate to plunge his hard cock inside her... after putting on a condom, of course... multi-colored, ribbed, and lubricated.
John stooped over and retrieved a pair of Irma's panties from her dirty clothes hamper. They smelled even more of pussy juice than did Joy's vibrator. The earthy scent sent John completely over the edge. Urges emanating from his small head took total control. He felt compelled to jerk off right then and there and he knew precisely how... with the help of Joy's cute little vibrator!
John went back to the Cooper's bedroom, retrieved Joy's vibrator, and returned to Irma's room. He took from her mirror a couple of Irma's pictures, one of her in a swimsuit, plus her tiny soiled panties, and spread them out on the bed. In an instant, he had his trousers around his ankles and was applying the whirring vibrator to his throbbing cock and balls. The panties would be the receptacle for his cum. He reasoned that, even if Irma discovered the deposit of dried jism, she could never determine its origin.
The vibrator felt heavenly on John's cock. He closed his eyes and imagined what tiny Irma would look like naked-soft skin, softer hair, small nipple-tipped breasts, delicate blond pubis, wet waiting pussy-all the while pressing the vibrator against the tender underside of his dick. He felt cum building quickly in his balls and he prepared to blast his load into Irma's little panties in record time. All of his awareness focused on the sensations coming from his tingling dick as he approached orgasm.
"Ohhh," John groaned as the first burst of cum shot out of his now flame-red cock. Successively smaller spurts collected in Irma's panties.
Without warning, a voice with a foreign accent rang out.
In the doorway stood Irma, hand over mouth, eyes bulging, and a look of terror on her face. John frantically tried to collect himself, toss away the panties, hide the vibrator, zip his pants, and apologize all at the same time. He charged for the doorway, but a petrified Irma blocked his retreat. Just then the three Cooper children ran behind Irma on their way to their playroom. To John's surprise and relief, the children did not acknowledge his presence at all, but Irma stood frozen in total shock.
"Sorry, very sorry," John muttered. He finally pushed past Irma and ran out the back door.
John hid from everyone's view for the next two days. Every time he recalled the look on Irma's face, he died inside. He had never been so embarrassed in his life and, worse, he had no idea what to do next. He just sat at his desk pretending to read while Julie puttered around, oblivious to his intense pain and suffering. She instead was focussed on decorating their new nursery.
Though emerging from seclusion was not easy, John finally had to do so in order to teach his university classes. At the appointed time, John put on sunglasses and a hat, silently got in his car, and opened the garage door. He had never noticed just how much noisy clanking and shuddering happened when the motor lifted the heavy door. John anxiously peered out of the garage using his rearview mirror.
Seeing no one, he backed his rather plain old Volvo out in hopes of making a clean getaway. To his shock and dismay, John found his ultimate exit blocked by the three Cooper children and their bicycles. Irma was giving them riding lessons at the top of the driveway. John's bruised psyche took another hit when he noted that Irma had started walking directly to his car. She strolled along side and waited for him to lower his window. John wanted desperately to vanish in thin air.
I'm fucked. I am completely and totally fucked, John thought. He felt his face turning bright red as he reluctantly he rolled down the window and squinted from under the brim of his hat in Irma's general direction.
Irma leaned over and rested her arms on the car window's edge. In doing so, the front of her shirt fell open revealing milky white breasts encased in a soft blue, translucent bra. No matter how hard he tried, John could not keep himself from glancing down her blouse. Irma smiled when she saw John's eyes darting. To John's further embarrassment, she demurely placed one hand on her neckline and returned her shirt to its "proper" place, all the while looking him straight in the eye.
John felt as if all his insides suddenly gathered in his throat. A vein on the side of his head was throbbing madly and little yellow lights started to float around in his eyes. Breathing became almost impossible for him.
"Dr. Watson," Irma said in her thick German accent. "I just want you to know dat I... vell... I got everything cleaned up and... ah... back in order after... you left so quickly. So, nobody knows about... it... except us. It's our secret. Ok?"
John was speechless. His face burned and his voice would not respond to his urgings.
"Would you do me a favor, Dr. Watson? Bitte? Your silly American laws won't allow me to buy liquor because I am not 21 years old yet. Would you be a dear and get me a bottle of vodka?"
John choked for a moment, stared up in confusion, and then nodded "yes."
"I knew I could count on you, Dr... ah... John." Irma winked and then hurried to clear the children from the driveway.
John knew instantly that an 18 or 19-year-old girl whose intentions were unknown had just enslaved him and there was not one thing he could do about it.
I am fucked for sure.
John shook his head and quickly drove away.
Later that afternoon, John returned home with a bottle of vodka carefully wrapped in a brown paper sack and hidden under his front seat. He had no idea how he would be able to pass it to Irma. When he wheeled into the long downhill driveway, the entire Cooper clan met him, along with his maternally rotund wife, Julie. Roy Cooper obviously was back from his latest plane flight and he and Irma were busy playing with the three kids while Joy and Julie engaged in pleasant "back fence" conversation.
Irma's eyes lit up when she saw John. John did not share her joy. He instead felt nauseous, yet he could not avoid joining the little neighborhood social gathering. With some effort he conjured up a "hi everyone." Irma immediately left Ray and the children to join their neighborly circle.
"How are things going in school this semester, Irma?" asked Julie. "Classes ok?"
"Great," replied Irma. "I am much more comfortable with my English skills now, so I'm doing much better. I am even thinking in English now... most of the time."
Irma's vivid blue eyes focused on John. Her perky little breasts seemed to thrust themselves directly up at him.
"Everything is pretty normal and good," she continued, "I'm still majoring in computer science... that is much fun... but, all in all, the semester is pretty ordinary... except for my Human Sexuality class. It is quite interesting, if you know what I mean." Irma winked.
"I'll bet," laughed Julie, "well, don't forget what that stuff leads to!"
Julie pointed to her baby-filled stomach and rolled her eyes. Everyone, except John, laughed aloud.
"Simple reproduction is the tame part of the class, I'm afraid," responded Irma feigning shame. "Today the Prof discussed 'sex toys'... you know dildos, vibrators, and stuff like dat... it was... interesting."
When Irma said vibrator, she looked directly into John's eyes.
"Oh my," gulped Joy. "Class content has certainly changed since I was in college." She coyly fanned herself in fake embarrassment.
Irma's eyes never left John's.
"Better go and get out of this tie," muttered John after an awkward silence. He made a hasty retreat inside.
Later that night, the Watson's phone rang. John was in the midst of assembling a new stroller and Julie was needle pointing an alphabet sampler. Each looked at the other and finally John ran to answer the insistent ringing.
"Can you meet me outside?" said a thickly accented Austrian voice.
"Oh... uh, you must have a wrong number?" answered John sheepishly.
"Good. See you out back," said Irma.
"Fine... ah... no problem," John responded. He pushed the off button on the phone and stared at the half-completed stroller. "I need a... ah... ah... smaller wrench. Yes. And, I might have to borrow one from the neighbors. I'll be right back."
"Alright, honey," answered Julie quickly. She was in midst of counting stitches and obviously didn't want to be distracted.
John exited through the garage and grabbed the paper-wrapped bottle as he passed by his car. Irma was waiting just outside.
"Here's your stuff," John said hurriedly. He looked around as if he were making a million-dollar drug deal.
"Thanks, I appreciate it... John," whispered Irma.
"Well, gotta go," said John. He started to go back inside.
"John, I have a quick, little question... just to satisfy my curiosity," said Irma. "The other... day... ah... afternoon... you know when. Were you getting yourself off looking at my pictures?"
Her words brought back all of John's painful feelings. Suddenly it seemed as if there was a great weigh pressing on his chest.
Irma continued, "I mean, I am... flattered by that... in a weird sort of way. Did my picture turn you on? If so, that's very nice... it makes me feel good."
"Look... Irma, I am really embarrassed about that... ah... ok, well... ah... well... you are an attractive... girl so... I... ah," stammered John.
"And with your wife pregnant and all, you must be... what is the phrase in English... you have grown horns... right? No, that's not right... anyway, you miss having sex... right? Poor dear."
"Well, I don't think that is... what I mean is... that's none of your business... understand what I am saying?"
Irma's brow furrowed. She gave John a chilling look.
"Do you break into peoples' houses to play with their underthings often, John? That is very naughty to do that, you know. Sneaking around in someone's private house. I mean... I... I don't think you want anyone to know about our little secret, do you John?"
A swift kick in the stomach could not have driven more air from John's body. Just as quickly, Irma demeanor changed again.
"Still, I'm flattered. I kind of like the idea of being a turn on for men." Suddenly her speech slowed and a flirtatious grim covered her face. "But... but... wouldn't it be better if the panties were on me... instead of in my drawer? Wouldn't you like seeing them on me... instead of just going through my things? Or maybe that is the real turn on... the going through my underwear part?"
John gulped. He had no idea where this conversation was going, but his face was beet red and he had the urge to either throw up or run away... or both.
"No, well, yes... I mean... no, I don't want the Coopers or anyone to know... god, this is embarrassing... and... ah... yes... I would like it better if I saw... well... maybe that's all I had better say about that. Enjoy the vodka."
"Maybe you want to see Joy in her panties?"
The question caused John's jaw to drop.
"Joy likes to use that vibrator that you found, you know? I've watched her myself. Wow, does she go crazy with that thing! I discovered a little secret way of watching. I'll bet you would like to see that too... wouldn't you, John? I can make that happen, you know... do you want me to, John? Are you understanding me now, John? I know my English is not great, but..."
John remained speechless. He tried to probe the wisp of a woman standing before him and somehow comprehend all that was happening here, but he could not.
"She also has a lover."
Finally, John grunted, "What?"
He stood wide-eyed, mouth open.
"Joy had a lover. She doesn't know that I know, but I have watched them before too. I'll bet you would love to watch them... making love. Wouldn't you?"
"Irma, I have to go... I don't think any of this is a good idea... I mean, I... I'm sorry about the other day... I don't know what else to say. I have to go now."
"John, you don't get it yet, do you?" Irma's eye narrowed again. "I know that you don't want me to tell the Cooper's... 'Hey, Ray and Joy, I discovered the pervert burglar who broke into your house, went through your private stuff, and played with your underwear... and it was John Watson from next door'... right? Of course not! They, especially Mr. Cooper, would not think that was very neighborly."
She paused to let her words sink in.
"So, here's our deal... as long as Irma gets what Irma wants, it will stay our secret. Now do you understand, John? And, if you... how do you say... play your card correctly, you might get something that you want too. See?"
"Wh... what... what do you mean? I mean, what do you want? Money or something? Is this blackmail?"
"John, you disappoint me," Irma pouted.
She handed John a scrap of paper.
"I'll call you. When I do, you will be very interested in the Internet address written on this paper," winked Irma. "Gute nacht, John."
With that Irma turned on her heels and headed back across the driveway. The moonlight seemed to make her white short shorts almost glow in the darkness. John watched her petite ass wiggle its way into the Cooper's garage and disappear.
Jesus help me, thought John. He stuffed the piece of paper into his pocket.
Over a week went by without any contact between John Watson and any of his neighbors. John had begun to feel better. He thought that perhaps his worst fears would not be realized.
That, however, was not to be.
John took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He had been grading papers at his bedroom desk for several hours while Julie ran errands. He rested his eyes by focusing on some storm clouds gathering in the sky when his phone rang.
"Still have that Internet address that I gave you," whispered a familiar voice. "When you see me leave with the kids, go there. You will be glad that you did." A click ended the connection.
John's heart began to pound in his ears. A moment later, John watched Irma and the children, who followed her like little ducklings, climb into the Cooper's van. As the van passed under John's window, a hand with fingers circled into an "O" emerged and gestured in the direction of his window.
Curiosity overtook John. He entered the web site address into his computer and encountered the words, "Click here for streaming video." He did so and suddenly the Cooper's bedroom, just as it had been during his surreptitious visit, appeared in living color on his computer screen.
What the fuck?
John thought for a moment and then he remembered the computer in Joy and Ray's bedroom. Obviously, computer savvy Irma had fixed things so their web camera was on without the Cooper's knowing it.
So that's how she did it, thought John. She said that she had watched Joy and this is how... with their computer!
Feeling guilty, John was about to stop this voyeuristic moment when suddenly Joy Cooper walked into the bedroom. The picture was jerky, but the images and the sound were very clear. John could see and hear everything.
John suddenly sucked in a quick breath when he realized that Joy was wearing a short skirt, but no blouse. Her lacy black bra drew his full attention. The excitement of doing the forbidden coursed through him instantly. Chills raced along his spine. John's fantasies seemed to be coming true. Partially clothed, Joy looked even more spectacular than John had imagined.
She's a goddess, thought John. He visually feasted upon the perky nipples that peeked through the gossamer material.
Joy disappeared into her closet and emerged a moment later buttoning her blouse. She turned toward her mirror, straightened her hair, and quietly dialed the phone. John could not understand the mumbled conversation that lasted only a second or two. When the call was completed Joy stepped over to her dresser and dabbed a drop of perfume behind each ear and, to John's surprise and delight, she also pressed a portion of perfume into her cleavage.
She's getting ready for someone, John imagined.
John gazed at this computer screen. His libido and his curiosity were running wild. His conversation with Irma that night outside his garage now began to make sense. He watched, listened, and waited with great anticipation.
After a very short time, John heard a faint doorbell ring. Joy perked up, smiled to herself, and left the bedroom. John could hear a barely audible conversation, but could not make out any words. Suddenly, Joy Cooper rushed back into the bedroom, carrying a glass of wine in one hand, a bottle in the other, and she sprawled giggling across the giant bed.
A figure appeared in doorway across the room. It was Mary Murray!
John couldn't believe his eyes. He glanced around his own bedroom hastily to assure himself that he would not be discovered somehow. Even in the privacy of his house, he felt vulnerable. Watching Joy Cooper's most private moment with Mary Murray seemed much too easy and much too good to be true.
Mary, glass of white wine in hand, eased across the room and sat near Joy on the huge, soft bed. Even watching via a web camera, John could see that her eyes seemed to sparkle as she talked to Joy in hushed tones. The conversation seemed innocent enough, but the look in Mary's eye did not.
After what seemed a very long time, Mary began to trace her delicate fingers from Joy's waist, over her hips, and down along her thighs. Joy responded by brushing tendrils of Mary's hair back away from her face. The touches were slight and gentle, not overtly sexual, but as each woman looked deep into the other's eyes, the meaning and intent became very clear.
There was a long pause in the conversation, then Mary leaned over suddenly and kissed Joy directly on the lips. John took a deep breath and rubbed his eyes.
Motherfucker... Could this be true? I must be dreaming, he thought.
Joy took a last gulp of her wine and allowed her glass to drop gently to the carpeted floor. She wrapped her long arms around Mary and returned her kiss hungrily. Lips parted and tongues entwined under John's watchful eye. Finally Mary broke the torrid kiss, arose and stepped back smiling. Her gaze swept over Joy starting at her delicate, painted toes and moving slowly, rapturously along Joy's lanky body.
"God, you are beautiful," mouthed Mary. John could read her lips and her intentions.
Mary began to slowly unbutton her blouse while Joy lay back on the bed. She stretched her arms over her head and smile at Mary luridly. Each woman's lust was obvious, but neither seemed in a hurry. There was no passionate frenzy, no frantic tearing at clothes, no rush to climax. The intense desire for each other projected all the way through the camera's innocent eye and into John's clandestine viewing place.
"I have been thinking about this all week," whispered Joy.
Mary glowed in response. "You are so beautiful."
John could stand having his cock confined no longer. He unzipped his pants and freed his already stiff dick.
Mary did a little pirouette and, as she did, nimble fingers worked their way down the front of her shirt.
"Not true, but thanks for saying it anyway," answered Joy.
In a dramatic flourish, Mary removed her blouse and tossed it aside. Joy's eyes, along with John's, stared at Mary prodigious breasts, mammoth mounds that seem to challenge her "full-figured" bra to contain them. After a few concealed motions behind her back, the bra dropped to the floor in front of Mary. Her breasts sagged downward under their ponderous weight. As if to counterbalance them, Mary took one in each hand and began to massage the tips gently. When she released them again, the large areolas had coalesced into thick protruding nipples, dark and uneven.
Mary smiled down at Joy, then walked to the bed, breasts swaying with each step. Joy sat up and waited expectantly. Mary maneuvered between Joy's legs, placed a gentle hand on Joy's chin, and lifted her face upward. Mary took and deep breath and kissed Joy once again. This time her tongue obviously probed Joy's soft mouth. Joy responded by taking one of Mary's huge nipples between her thumb and forefinger. In response, Mary closed her eyes and tossed her head back in ecstasy. When she did so, Joy put Mary's dark nipple into her mouth.
"Oh god, that feels good," Mary moaned aloud.