Martha Finally Cheats, Middle class wife is intrigued by well-endowed neighbor, “Ohhh…myyy…goddd! You won’t believe what just happened.” my best friend exclaimed as soon as I opened my door in response to her frantic knocking.
“Yikes! Juicy gossip? It must be good, you haven’t been this excited since you found out that the Bartlet’s boy is gay.”
“God Martha, I just can’t believe that I just saw what I did.”
We had moved to the living room. I sat on the edge of the sofa.
“For god’s sake you look like you’re going to burst, just spill it out.” I said laughing at her excitement.
“OK, I went to the Pratt’s tonight to get their dues. God they’ve got all this garish Mexican style furniture. Anyway, Sybil answered the door and I went in. They have this glass top dining room table. So we sat there and I spread out the association papers to show her and told her they could pay all at once or four times a year.”
This was dragging on. I interrupted, “So you saw that they have ugly furniture. Big deal.”
Now I have to explain. We live in a tract that has a homeowners association. The Pratt’s had recently moved in across the street. Sue and I kind of thought they didn’t fit. Most of the families here are mid-thirties couples with kids. The Pratts were an older looking guy and a very young looking wife and no kids.
“Martha, shush. It’s not the furniture I saw. Sybil called Martin to bring the checkbook and pay the dues and read and sign the papers. Well in he walks in this white bathrobe, hair wet, I guess just out of the shower. He sat down across from me and when he picked up the papers I was looking right through the glass table top at his legs. Then he scooted forward to write a check and the robe moved up. He was sitting on the edge of the chair and his you-know-what was hanging down. I mean HANGING DOWN. When he moved it kind of swung back and forth. God it was like this big flesh colored banana.”
“Oh my god Sue, you looked at it?”
“Just for a second. I mean I was so embarrassed.”
“Yeah, right. Just long enough to tell me it swung back and forth and big as a banana”. By now we were both giggling like schoolgirls.
“Did he see you looking? Oh my god, what if Sybil saw you looking at her husband? Anyway, it probably wasn’t as big as you think, I mean just seeing some man like that you’d get so embarrassed that you wouldn’t really know what you were seeing.”
“Girl friend, it was big!”
Well that was, I suppose, the start of my downfall.
By now you’re probably getting the impression that Sue and I are not wild sex-bombs. You may even be thinking, what is this, some fifteen year-old telling her story. Well I was 38 at the time but probably had less experience than my sixteen year-old daughter and her friends.
A little background on me. I’m what’s called a petite in women’s clothing. At 5-1 and 98 pounds I can easily get lost in a crowd. I must admit to being a little bit vain though. Despite my small stature, I think I have a really cute figure. My bra is only a 28A but on me my breasts look fairly large and I have been told that my legs and butt are very shapely. Sue and I go to a women’s gym regularly and we jog every day that we can.
My husband and I went steady all through high school, married shortly after we graduated. You guessed it. I have, or should say had, never even kissed another guy. I mean serious kissing. I didn’t think of myself as prudish but I never said any dirty words. Not even when Tom and I had sex, which wasn’t all that often. The church would have been proud of us; sex was basically this is how you make babies.
About fifteen years into the marriage, I began feeling bored and restless. This is not to say I didn’t love my two girls and Tom. Everything was just so normal. I began reading romance novels, and then would feel guilty about thinking impure thoughts.
In the weeks that followed Sues encounter, she and I would sometimes giggle over the sight of Martin Pratt’s penis (I still didn’t say things like cock even with Sue). Tom and I also got to know the Pratt’s, just neighborly chitchat about the lawn, the weather, etc.
In December the association has a pre-holiday dinner dance. The seating sort of mimics the arrangement of the neighborhood. So the Pratts were at the same table as we were. Sue was at a different table. This was the first time we had been with them socially.
Now I had always thought Martin Pratt looked very ordinary. Probably in his fifties with a full head of hair, gray at the temple. Sort of gray-blue eyes and Scandinavian looking face. He is very tall, I’m sure over six feet. This was the first time I saw him in a suit, and I had to admit he looked somehow distinguished. Sybil on the other hand, who always seemed to be falling out of her clothes looked strangely prim in an ankle length, high collar dress.
Dinner was pleasant conversation and wonderful food. After dinner the music began and Martin and Sybil were immediately on the floor. After a bit I coaxed Tom out to dance but he only tolerated two dances. Martin and Sybil joined us again while the band took a break. When the band resumed Martin asked me to dance. I tried to demur explaining that Tom and I didn’t dance very much. He insisted. It was a fast dance and he soon had me following his every lead. The song ended, I headed for my chair only to hear him pleading for another.
“Oh, I couldn’t. You and Sybil are far too good for me, dance with your wife.”
“Martha, don’t you dare stop. He’ll dance my feet off, plus I think Marty needs a change of partners once in a while.” Sybil called from the table.
Well, that went right over my head but I was back on the floor enjoying Martin whirling me around. That song ended, and he held my hand lightly as the next number began.
“It’s a slow one Martha, how are you at the waltz?” he said as he very gently pulled me into dance position. He didn’t pull me in close, he held me lightly and he seemed to glide around the floor. He was a very good dancer. Without realizing it, I was drawn closer to him, my body lightly rubbing against his. My head came only to his chest, my breasts rubbed against his mid section. Then I felt it. It was hard, it was pressing against my stomach. Yikes! It was his penis, his erect penis. I was sure of it.
I pulled back, not recoiling but just a reflex. You don’t feel the erection of strange men. He danced on as if nothing had happened. He didn’t pull me closer, didn’t make me feel uncomfortable. I began to doubt my thoughts; it was just my overactive imagination and all that giggling talk of his penis.
I relaxed into him again. As before, my breasts made contact with him, I felt them rubbing against him. Then my tummy rubbed against him. This time I didn’t immediately move back. I just wanted to be sure that what I was feeling was his penis. I moved my body, rubbed my stomach across him, it was very hard. It was his penis, his erect penis. “Wow! What the hell am I doing? “, I thought. The dance ended. He continued to hold my hand but this time I lead him back to our table. That was it. No more dancing with him I thought.
Nothing seemed to change after that dinner dance. We had the same neighborly chats with the Pratts. I didn’t tell Sue what had happened. Well, one thing had changed. I found myself thinking about that dance, about Sue seeing his penis, about feeling my breasts rubbing against him.
New Years approached. Some of the homeowners began talking of having a New Years Eve party. Only about half the group decided to do it so we ended up with a record party in the community recreation hall. Tom liked the idea because he hated going out. It was a potluck after which we played old records and danced.
I told myself not to repeat the events of the previous party but when Sybil insisted that I give her a break from dancing with her husband I couldn’t say no. As before, music began with fast tunes and then someone slipped in a slow number. It was almost like a little devil was sitting on my shoulder saying, “Do it Martha”. I didn’t resist in the least as Martin put his hand on my waist and began gliding us around the floor. Someone turned the lights down. This time we were informally dressed. Instead of a thick suit, Martin wore light slacks and polo shirt. I had on a blouse and long skirt. This time when my breasts began to rub against him I could feel his body heat. My nipples got hard and I wondered if he could feel them. My stomach bumped occasionally against him, against that hard erect penis that I had felt before. One song led to another, another slow number.
Each time my stomach rubbed against his penis, I could feel his hand on my waist, very lightly pulling me into him. Never overt, never more than just a gentle squeeze. All the time he chatted as if it wasn’t happening, as if I wasn’t rubbing my breasts against his mid-riff, as if his hard penis wasn’t pressing into my stomach.
Finally, near the end of the song, I pulled back rather abruptly and obviously.
“Oops, forgive me Martha. You follow me so well that I forget that we haven’t been dancing together for years. I didn’t mean to get to close.” He held me back at arms length as he looked down into my eyes.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to jump back like that. I mean I really enjoy dancing with you. It’s just that I, uh…well; I don’t want you to get the wrong idea… I mean…”
“It’s my fault Martha. I’m afraid when a man is close to a beautiful woman there are some things that just happen. I’m sure you’ve bumped into that problem before.” he chuckled.
“That’s ok. I know men can’t help it. Not that it happens very much. I mean I don’t dance very often.” I felt myself stammering.
“We can go sit down if you want to stop. But I must tell you it will end my dancing tonight. Sybil has a sore ankle and told me that she doesn’t want to dance.”
“Welllll, I don’t want to be a party pooper. I just don’t want you to get the wrong idea or anything.”
“I have only the very best impression of you Martha. After all, we’re both adults and understand that certain events are simply biological reactions. I can’t stop them and must confess to a certain vicarious pleasure feeling a beautiful woman gracefully moving in unison with me on the dance floor. But I promise to keep some space between us.” His words flowed out accompanied by light laughter.
The music was playing again and we just automatically began another slow dance.
“Do you really think I’m a good dancer? Or are you just being the gentleman?”
“I do think you are a good dancer Martha. It’s obvious that you haven’t danced very much but you have a sense of rhythm.”
Our bodies bumped together. He made an obvious move to separate.
“Don’t worry Martin. You don’t have to jump back every time we bump.”
I moved against him. I wanted to feel my body pressing against him, against his erect penis. Soon we were dancing tightly together. When I rubbed my stomach against his hardness, his hand on my waist would gently pull me in. I could feel my nipples get hard, was sure that he could feel them pressing into him. I could feel his erection move as my tummy rubbed against him. I felt the warmth between my legs as body became excited. I knew that my panties had become wet. I was in vicarious pleasure heaven. I had this feeling that I was being extremely wicked and I was enjoying it. Then the music ended.
We re-joined Sybil and Tom at the table. It was almost midnight. At midnight every one cheered and yelled. I kissed Tom long and hard, partly because I was feeling guilty about dancing with Martin, about rubbing against his erection, and pressing my breasts against him. Martin and Sybil were next to us, locked in an embrace. I could see Martin’s hand on her bottom, clearly pulling her tightly into him and I knew that she was grinding into his very hard erection. They broke and Sybil grabbed my Tom and hugged him, she had turned him so that his back was to me. Martin whispered “May I’ to me as he opened his arms. I hugged him and allowed him to kiss me, then as I felt his hand on my bottom. I opened my mouth and French-kissed, feeling him pull me into him I ground hard against that hard erection. Then it was over.
That night I had wild dreams of sex. I hadn’t had dreams like that since I was a teen. The next morning I had horrible nightmares of what I had done. Thank heaven for Sue. I had to talk and she was happy to listen. We decided that nothing really bad had transpired. Once again, I was thinking – that’s it, never again. Yet I still found myself thinking about dancing, about the kiss.