My husband, John, and I were good friends with our neighbor.

In reality, though, Chuck and I seemed to be more than that; we’d been flirting since we’d met, but it was all in good fun — or so I’d thought.

This past season, John volunteered to coach the girls’ soccer team for the Saturday morning slot. Chuck would come by and pick up my daughter, dropping off mine and his at the park because John had to get there much earlier than the players. One of those mornings Chuck and I both stood at the door yawning. I offered him some coffee but then realized it was still brewing and apologized.

“That’s okay,” he assured me. “I’ll grab some out after I drop them off.”

“It’s only a ten-minute round trip. By the time you get back, it’ll be nice and hot and ready.”

I realized the implication of my words a split second later and felt heat flood my cheeks. Our eyes met, and the look in his green eyes made my pussy go wet. I cleared my throat, and he looked at his feet.

“I can grab coffee anywhere,” he said, “though coffee with you would be nice.”

The girls were growing impatient at the door, holding their bags and cleats.

I took a deep breath and touched his hand. “Then come back,” I said. “I’ll have it ready.”

I tried to stay focused as I watched his SUV pull out of the driveway. Was I really going to do this?

I realized I was, even as I put out mugs and the sugar bowl. The thought of fucking Chuck was enough to make my knees weak. I’d had fantasies about it for a while, even dirty dreams that had me rubbing my clit upon waking until I shook with orgasms that felt both wrong and very right.

When a knock came at the door a few minutes later, I jumped even though I’d been anticipating it.

“Hey, there,” I said.

I studied Chuck in his faded, low-slung jeans and his navy-blue sweatshirt. His blond hair was tousled by the morning breeze, and his smile was part nervousness and part lust.

I grabbed the front of his sweatshirt before I could analyze my feelings and tugged him inside. He turned me fast, pushed me to the wall, and kissed me hard. I slid my tongue along his, parting my lips and letting him take my mouth. My cunt was beating in time with my heart; I was wet because all I could think about was him taking me with the same fervor as he kissed.

“He slid into me with an exaggerated deliberateness that made my head light.”

Chuck slid his hand beneath my robe and then my nightshirt. Beneath it I was bare, and he moaned into my mouth. His teeth raked my jaw and then down my neck. I had a fleeting worry of him marking me, and the unanticipated thrill that coursed through me made my nipples peak, hard and sensitive.

He found the erect nubs with his fingertips and pinched. “You know, I’ve always imagined you that way. Bare beneath your pajamas.” He pushed a finger into my pussy, curled it deliberately, and found my G-spot expertly. Pleasure flooded my pussy and unfurled in my pelvis and lower belly. “I think of you bare beneath your jeans, too. No panties. In those tight fucking jeans that show off your ass.”

He added a second finger, and his thumb found my clit. I shivered against the wall.

“That’s because I am, usually,” I gasped.

He pulled back to look at me, grinning. “Really?”

“Really,” I sighed.

Chuck moved me then, forcefully, to the sofa. The blinds were still down; I hadn’t put them up for the day yet. He dropped me on the cushion and knelt before me. “Open your robe.”

I obeyed with shaking hands.

My nightshirt was just a plain black thing, super-soft and over-washed. When he ran his hands down it and sighed, watching my nipples push against the fabric, it felt like the most expensive lingerie.

“Sit up.”

I did, and he pulled off the robe and nightshirt and then his mouth was on my breasts and his teeth were raking my nipples. Goose bumps sprang up all over my body. My pussy was drenched, and he slid his fingers back inside me. “So fucking wet,” he said, biting my nipple until I hissed. The pain spurred the pleasure, and the sensation flowed down through my body like warm syrup.

He was murmuring nonsense as he kissed his way down my body. “What do you taste like? Honeysuckle? Candy? The ocean? Let’s see, let’s see… ”

My hips rose and a tremor started along my inner thighs. Arousal, anticipation, guilt, and beautiful wrongness.

His tongue came down on me, a hot, wet strip of suede. He lapped at me, and when I relaxed, he changed his tactic and flicked my clit with rapid abandon. He pushed his rigid tongue into my cunt and fucked me with it. His fingers pressed tight to my thighs, his breath hot on my sex.

I came with fistfuls of his hair in my hands. I tugged so hard I heard him hiss, and his teeth came down on my mons with enough force that there was a burst of pain. Pain that somehow made that exquisite moment all the better.

Chuck grabbed my hips, hauling me closer to the edge of the sofa cushion. I let my thighs fall open wantonly and watched with lazy, sated interest as he unzipped his jeans and pushed them down along with his boxers. His cock was long and thick and entirely flushed. The head was a ruddy color, the tip slick with pre-come.

“Touch yourself for me,” he said. He grabbed his cock and stroked himself as his gaze trained on me. I swirled circles over my sensitive clit. I found a pattern that made my breath catch and kept at it. Having his eyes on me accented the pleasure. Watching him watch me.

“Put your fingers in your cunt,” he said.

John never talked dirty. Listening to Chuck talk dirty was like licking something with a charge. A current ran through me that made the fine hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

I pushed two fingers into my pussy and curled them. My fingertips brushed my G-spot and I purred, my back arching and my body responding.

“Again,” he said when I pulled them out.

I did it again, biting my lower lip and shutting my eyes.

“Eyes open.”

That did it for me, too. The demand. The order to look him in the eye. I did as he said and returned his gaze. I looked at him and fucked myself with my fingers.

He watched me for a moment, then growled, grabbed me and shoved himself between my thighs. Chuck ran his cockhead along my soaked slit and slid into me, just the tip, so that I gasped and tried to wriggle forward. He laughed softly, holding my forearms to keep me where I was.

“Just a moment. Just breathe. We don’t have to rush. That much we know.”

I went still, watching him and wanting him to kiss me. When my body went lax and I focused on the pulse pounding in my throat and my cunt, he slid into me with an exaggerated deliberateness that made my head light.

He let go of my arms and finally leaned in to give me that kiss. His hands grasped my ass, and every time he thrust into me, he also pulled me to him with those big hands. I arched my body up to meet him, my head falling back and my neck bared. And there were his teeth again, raking down the slope of my throat, bringing shivers and goosebumps to the surface. My nipples pebbled, and Chuck found one with his teeth, biting the sensitive skin so hard that I cried out. But I came, too. My cunt worked his cock as he continued to slide in and out of me, holding me fast with his strong grip.

When the final spasms passed, he pulled free of me and flipped me forcibly. A shiver ran up my spine. He bit the back of my neck and I sighed, my face pressed to the couch cushion. Chuck arranged me so my upper body was splayed on the dark green sofa. My belly pressed against the ridged lip of the cushion.

He grabbed my hips and spread my ass cheeks for a second before angling himself and pushing into my cunt. I groaned. The angle was perfect for brushing my G-spot, and the feel of his possessive hands on my skin had me on the verge of coming.

He withdrew, and his fingers drove into me a few times before he plunged his dick back in my pussy. He held me tight to him, fucking me with short, hard thrusts that hit all the right places until I was grinding back against him, panting and begging him not to stop.

Chuck slid a juice-slick finger inside my ass, slow and steady at first. When I took it and kept forcing myself back on his dick, he slipped in a second. He fucked my ass with his digits and continued to rock his cock into me roughly.

I came with my face pressed to the sofa, my cries eaten up by the foam cushions.

He didn’t stop like I thought he would; he just kept going, growling, “I know there’s one more orgasm in that tight little pussy. Give it to me. I want it.”

The words almost did me in, but I gritted my teeth and let him take me there again with his driving rhythm that seemed to go incredibly deep inside me.

“Come for me. Play with yourself,” he hissed.

I shut my eyes and snaked a hand down between my belly and the cushion. I found my clit — sensitive, slick and swollen — and started to stroke it roughly. Pleasure surged through me, and my breath caught.

“Oh,” I sighed.

“Yes, oh,” he chuckled. “One more ‘O.’”

I wanted to laugh, but humor was lost to me then. I was all about the feel of him fucking me and the sweet building tension rising inside me.

This time when I came, I called out for him. It was odd to hear a foreign name on my lips but also utterly thrilling.

Chuck pulled out and turned me fast. He put his hand on my head and levered me down so that I was on my hands and knees. I sucked him in quickly, urgent noises coming from my lips as I swallowed him. He held my head in his hands and fucked my mouth as he saw fit.

“Take my cock,” he ordered in a raspy voice.

I slipped my hand between my legs and rubbed my tender clit furiously.

“Suck it.” He wound his hand in my hair and held me tight. He kept my head steady as he plunged in and out of my willing lips. All the while, I stroked myself closer and closer to another orgasm.

“That’s it. God, your mouth is almost as good as your pussy.”

I whimpered and came, and my ecstasy set him off. He climaxed with a barely stifled bellow.

That was the first time. And our stolen Saturdays are still going strong. Somehow stolen time is the sweetest time.

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