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Binoculars, Tennis Shoes and a Shower
by Allistar Parker

Category: Erotica/Menage Erotica/Romance
Description: WARNING: Voyeurism, toys, anal sex Life is mundane in Beth's world, kids to school by right o'clock. Husband out of the door by eight-thirty. The life of a soccer mom isn't what the television portrays. If it wasn't for Larry, her neighbor or his outdoor shower, Mondays would be miserable. After a good ride on an out-of-balance washer, she finally gets more excitement than she bargained for when her husband catches her.
eBook Publisher: eXtasy eBooks/eXtasy Books, 2010 2010
eBookwise Release Date: September 2010


4 Reader Ratings:
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Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [37 KB]
Words: 7626
Reading time: 21-30 min.

It was the first day of school when all the kids had trundled off to the bus and I quickly shoved Tom out the door. Sure enough, I found my dark Adonis beginning his usual ritual. I knew I needed to get the washer loaded and started soon or I would surely miss the excitement.

I threw a small load of tee-shirts into the machine. My girls' tennis shoes, the dirtiest they had been in a week, fit nicely on top. I poured myself a glass of orange juice, topping it off with just a taste of champagne left over from our anniversary party and headed upstairs to get my favorite suction cup dildo.

I could feel my juices beginning to build as I slid my underwear down to my knees. The soft skirt was billowy enough to allow me to sit on Fred the Longfellow without taking a chance of exposing myself to anyone who should happen by my perch in the laundry room and notice me. It was the Longfellow who fought hard to make me miss my rendezvous as he refused to stick to the porcelain paint. After a few minutes of struggle, I finally found the right mixture of spit and suction to properly hold the erect rubber in the upright position for me to squat over and mount the formidable friend. With just a touch of lubricant from my mouth, I slid him deep in me.

My eyes closed as that full feeling of a dildo reaching home grabbed my attention. I squeezed gently as the bumps around the shaft began to hit that little round spot just past my lips. A few wiggles of my hips and I was settled in for the duration.

To my surprise, Larry was finished with his daily yoga regime and had proceeded to his outdoor shower, a well-placed unit that was directly in my line of sight. He was early. I was not ready for that yet. The machine wasn't on the rinse cycle and my nipples weren't even hard.

I unbuttoned my blouse from the top, leaving one single button at the bottom to hold the shirt together, just in case. I grabbed the binoculars, fitting them to my eyes as I switched the washer to the extra long spin cycle. Through the glasses I could see his shoulders running white with soap as the shower splashed across those long, hard muscles. His hands worked the soap all along his torso until he finally lathered his legs, pulling his calf muscles tight with each stroke.

Now we're getting somewhere. I could feel my legs begin to tense as the shoes began to pound out a rhythm in the drum of the washer. I, again, squeezed Longfellow as I shifted my left hand down between my legs. With a stroke or two of my clit, I was finally catching up with the guy next door.

His hands were huge. I guess he needed hands like that to be able to soap up his dick efficiently. Even soaping his balls helped bring that long, fat penis to life. I gasped as the full length and girth of that hardy prick became obvious. He stepped under the showerhead to wash the soap from his body as the protruding organ stood tall like a battle ship gun awaiting use.

My juices were flowing over my finger while I rubbed gently on my clit. A stroke or two would send small electrical shocks up my spine, driven harder by the pounding of the washing machine. I slid my finger out for just a second to give my nipple a slippery tweaking. Good old Longfellow was beginning to thrust as the balance on the machine had shifted quite nicely from pounding to violent banging. I briefly looked down at my tits as they bounced in time with the washer.

Returning my gaze to my neighbor brought me to the full realization that he, too, had joined in the Monday project by giving his dick a slow, sensuous massage. With his left hand cupping his balls, he stroked slow and easy along the thick shaft and up onto the gland and down again. Through the binoculars, I could see the head stretching and turning purple under the strain of his strokes. I had to give my boobs a good squeeze and gentle slap before increasing my pressure on the dildo now rubbing clearly and fervently on my g-spot.

I could see his knees getting weaker with each stroke of his cock. My own knees were beginning to cramp as the constant pressure to keep myself from slipping off the washer built with each bumping and vibrating the shoes caused as they clunked around in the washer. In the crease created by my tailbone heading down my ass, I felt an orgasm building, a small twitching of the nerves in just the right spot. I knew before long the damn thing would work its way to my pussy, flooding the washer lid with my juices. My body shook. A small piece of me dreaded the coming quake, fearing I would never stop, but I couldn't keep the wall of pleasure from coming any more than I could stop a hurricane from striking land.

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