The Vacation Wife by David Stone (best selling autobiographies TXT) 📕

out where she’d been weeding and where she took off her robe, then walked over to the communal gate separating our yard from Greg’s. The gates were mandated by city ordinance. Our area was subject to wildfires, and firefighters needed easy access through yards in order to fight them.

Susan, once a theater major, stood at the gate pretending to have a conversation. I now envisioned Greg standing in front of her. He must have thought he’d gone to heaven. She was a stunning 5’ 11” in her bare feet, just an inch or two shorter than Greg. She was the type of beauty who drew stares when we entered restaurants. Anyone seeing her in her exquisite lingerie would have been moved to believe in higher powers, assuming they didn’t already. If they, did, it would have removed any doubt.

Susan returned to the deck with a broad smile on her face. She sat down without getting dressed and took a sip of wine. “That was fun. It made me a little tingly.”

“Susan, it just dawned on me that from our second-floor windows, we can both see into each other’s yards. Greg may have seen you in your underwear from his bedroom window and come down to, I don’t know, investigate? Anyway, why did he knock on the gate this morning? What did he want?”

“He said he was returning your edger, so I opened the gate so he could return it.”

“He borrowed it last October.”

“You didn’t really need it back until now. The grass is only now starting to grow.”

“That’s not the point,” I said. “He chose today to return it. Why not tomorrow? It’ll be Saturday.”

“He probably heard me in the yard.”

“How? Were you whistling or something? Talking to yourself?”

“Hey, I was on the phone to Marci at one point!”

“Had you stripped by then?”

“I don’t remember,” she said. “It doesn’t really matter, does it?”

“No. But I suspect he saw you from upstairs, you in your underwear, and thought, oh well, I’m feeling neighborly now.”

Susan laughed. “I hadn’t thought about him watching me from upstairs.”

“And now that you are thinking about it?”

“It feels kind of kinky, I guess.”

“You mean it makes you feel horny, right?”

Susan squeezed her left breast. It was one of her tells as her breasts were getting extra sensitive. “I guess that’s what I mean? Why, do you want to do something about that?”

I didn’t really have a choice now. All I could think about was making love to her without further ado. “Well,” I said. “I should do something about that. You’ve been a bad wife. You need to be taught a lesson.”

Susan laughed. “Oh, role playing… That kind of works. Yes, husband, I’ve been naughty. Teach me a lesson.” She laughed again as she got up. It looked like she meant to go into the house and upstairs to our bedroom.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

She looked confused. “I thought we were heading upstairs to, you know, make love.”

I looked over at our new Costco patio furniture. It was from their imprudently named and now discontinued “Plantation Collection”. It included a chaise lounger built for two. “Over there,” I said.

A panicked look widened her eyes and startled her eyebrows. “Not out here, Ryan. You just said the neighbors can see…”

“It’s almost dark now. They won’t know what they’re seeing if they happen to look over.”

“I doubt that.”

“Do you care?”

She thought for a moment, smiled in a naughty, conspiratorial way, then walked over to the chaise lounge and laid down. I followed and stood next to her to undress. It was a warm evening for late spring, still in the mid-eighties.

I dropped my briefs and my erection sprang free as if gasping for air. Susan laughed, took it in her hand and kissed the tip. “You’re all sticky. I have a feeling you’re already primed for this.” She laid back down, lifted her bottom and pulled off her panties, then reached around to undo her bra and shivered, which must have been due to her excitement and not the temperature. We were now both naked. “Ryan, you know I love you, don’t you? I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.”

“I know. I love you too.”

From our low position, we could still see into Greg’s master bedroom window. There was no light on, which didn’t mean he wasn’t in there with a pair of binoculars. I suggested the possibility to Susan.

“What if Greg’s watching us right now?” I said.

She looked, smiled, then appeared unsure of what to say. She volleyed the question back to me. “What if he is? Would it bother you?”

It was truly dark enough to assume he wouldn’t notice us, or if he did, that he wouldn’t see much of anything. I mentioned this possibility to Susan.

She seemed disappointed by my observations and thought for a moment, then said, “Go turn on the lights in the living room.”

I knew that would pool light onto the deck and illuminate, if only minimally, what we were up to. I went and turned on the lights, then returned to Susan. She was clearly more visible now. The fact that she wanted to be more visible made me feel strangely virile. I wanted to ravage the hell out of my wife. I had always found her highly desirable, but this step into exhibitionism-lite was having a profound effect. I indeed felt savage.

Susan spread her legs and bent her knees while offering me a devilish grin. “Ryan, you know what to do. I’m aching to feel your tongue. You don’t mind, do you?”

“God no, I don’t mind. You know I love to...”

“Say you want to eat my pussy!”

My goodness! This language was entirely new. At first, I had trouble forming a properly delinquent sentence, but then it came.

“I want to eat your pussy.”

She smiled and seemed to swoon, a difficult thing to do when lying down.

We seldom if ever dirty-talked, so it was not an overused trope. She stroked herself, drawing her fingers up and down her glistening lips and finishing