It was startling to realize it was eight years since I’d seen my former good neighbors, the Grants — what with a military stint, marriage and special work assignments.

I did the calculation last May when, driving home from a week-long business trip, I realized I was within range of their lake-community summer home. On the spur of the moment I decided to divert there — hoping there would be someone at the house.

There was, but I didn’t recognize her. Still, my jaw dropped at the sight of this absolutely gorgeous woman — early 20s, tall and slim, shapely, with great legs, tits and ass. I could tell all of this because she was leaning over while tending to flowers in an incredibly abbreviated, revealing gardening outfit.

Even when I parked my car at the curb, close enough to see her face, I drew a blank. But what an amazingly beautiful face it was, with hauntingly gorgeous eyes! I thought first of the family’s older daughter, Denise, who was always so attractive as a teenager, but this didn’t look at all like her. And it looked even less like her sister Tammy, who’d been a gawky teenager but had been my special friend. I concluded that this vision of womanhood must be connected to some new owner.

Well, I was here, so I got out of the car, trying to figure out how to explain what I was doing here. The ravishing young woman kept watching intently as I approached her. Suddenly she was screaming, “Paul!”

I smiled. It was nice to be recognized by such a ravishing creature. But I still didn’t know who she was. If not Denise or Tammy, who then? Seeing the blank look on my face, she said, “You don’t recognize me?”

I just looked at her.

“You don’t know your old pal Tammy?”

What a greeting I got from my old pal Tammy! Tight hugging, kisses on the cheek, huge smile. “I can’t believe it’s you! I’ve missed you so much!”

“Tammy,” I said half questioningly. “I can’t believe it’s you! Look how you’ve grown up! You’re so beautiful! Such an, um, desirable young lady!”

“Just how do you mean ‘um, desirable’?” she asked, rather flirtatiously.

I responded as flirtatiously as I could, “You know, desirable. So pretty, and shapely, and nice for a guy to look at.”

“What about ‘sexy’? I’m not sexy?”

“Oh yes, very sexy. As your outfit shows off only too well. Should you wear such revealing clothes outside?”

Our banter continued awhile. Then she invited me in for a cool drink.

I’m ten years older than Tammy, and always had a good, healthy, nonsexual relationship with her. I always enjoyed her happy, casual, fun-loving ways, her wide range of interests, her excitement level, both pre-teen and teen. Somehow she’d managed to never let herself be overshadowed by her more attractive and attention-getting older sister.

Walking with her to the house, I gradually got back the old, comfortable feeling of a protective older brother or young uncle. Until we walked in the door. She slammed it, then slammed me against it and gave me the biggest kiss, right smack on my lips. Pinned, I couldn’t escape, and she wouldn’t stop. So I stopped squirming, relaxed and just enjoyed it, waiting for her to finally back off and release me.

Before I could ask what was going on, she answered with: “There, I finally did it! Something I’ve been dreaming about for years. Besides being my most valued friend, you gradually became my most powerful fantasy male. You don’t know how many gut-wrenching orgasms you’ve given me.”

Wow, that was way more familiar than I was expecting! Tammy paused, then kicked it down a bunch of notches. “I hope you don’t mind, Paul. I just had to do that. Any reaction?”

“I think I’ll let it go with just a ‘you sure kiss really nice.’”

This stunningly attractive young lady escorted me to the couch and sat with me there as we set about, with no more surprises, calmly catching up on eight years of her life and of mine.

After a while Tammy got up to make us drinks, and when she returned — well, more surprises! This dear old friend, who had blossomed into such an irresistibly sexy creature, walked over, stood right in front of me with her bare legs touching my bare knees and said, “Here’s your drink. But first you have to tell me which parts of me you think my outfit shows off so well.”

She wiggled her legs to keep my interest piqued. And that caused something between my legs to peak.

She continued, “You were always my biggest complimenter back in the days when God knows I needed complimenting. So I’ll thank you now to just take up where you left off and resume complimenting. Only adult compliments now, not teenage stuff.”

I tried to get off with a simple “Oh, all your parts, everything,” but she said I would have to do a lot better than that. I said, “I can’t. Big brother can’t. Besides, I’m a happily married man.”

“Paul, sweetheart, let me tell you where I’m coming from. Right now we are in a ‘window of opportunity,’ where special things can happen. And don’t get nervous. What plays here stays here. We’re all alone. So you just be quiet and follow my instructions. First, pick out my best part and put your hand on it.”

“Like I said, I can’t pick one part, because they’re all equally nice. I don’t have enough hands. What better compliment than that?”

“Well, right now I need to have your compliments rise to the next level, the level of physical touch and emotional feeling. So right now I expect you to pick a part, any part, even just the part closest to you, and put your hand on it.”

“No, I can’t,” I said. “I’m married.”

“Then I’ll do it for you.” And with that she grabbed my hand and put it on her inner thigh, high up, but still — because of the skimpiness of the skirt she was wearing — on bare skin. Very smooth and nice, I might say. She held her hand firmly over my struggling hand (well, it was doing its best to struggle) and said, “There’s a window here, but it’s time-limited. Now run your hand up and down my leg.”

“No, I won’t. I could be arrested.”

“Paul, honey, I’m not 14 anymore. And it’s obviously consensual on my part; look how hard I’m having to work to get you to do it! Look at it this way: What’s the use of having long, slim, shapely, smooth, pretty legs if I can’t have a guy — my best guy — run his hands up and down them?”

The hand of hers that was holding mine began moving my hand up and down, at first a few inches each way, then gradually down her whole leg and back up. After the second full up-and-down trip, sensing less resistance from my hand, she dared to quietly and gently remove hers. By this time my hand was ready to take over, doing another full up-and-down on its own, with increasing murmurs of pleasure from me, like “Mmm” and “Oh, Tammy.”

On my third solo up-and-down I grew more verbal. “What gorgeous legs,” I said. “And so sexy. I’m going to have to kiss them and lick them and hug them.”

“Oh Paul, please do,” she replied. “And go all the way up, under my miniskirt, and see if there’s a fragrance of interest there.”

I did, and there was. But I stuck to Tammy’s legs until she said, “Time to move on. There’s a waiting line.” She did a 180-degree turn, then raised her miniskirt and bent over, presenting her beautiful round rear close to my face. Then she said, “Now just keep kissing, licking and hugging. I mean, after you pull my panties down.”

Pull her panties down? I couldn’t believe what I was hearing! I tried to protest, but again her hands grabbed mine and did the deed. As she held up her miniskirt, she said, “You like?”

I moved forward and went at her tentatively. My mind kept saying, “What about my wonderful wife, the light of my life?” And my mind answered, “What the heck? It’s just a bit more skin. It’s not like we’ll go further and end up fucking. I’ll enjoy this and head home.”

Except that in five minutes’ time my old pal was moaning up a storm. While saying “Next!” she did another 180 degree turn and again lifted her miniskirt, only this time she spread those fabulous legs. With her standing and me sitting, I found myself staring at the most tantalizing pussy I had ever seen. Such lips, such color, such fragrance! And such telltale wetness!

My pal smiled and said, “Just so you know, you’re about to be my first married, mature cunt-licker, male or female. So I expect the full treatment. Some words that come to mind are kiss, lick, suck, slurp, sniff, tongue, clit, orgasm, cunt juice, taste, swill, swallow. You get the idea. I want all of the above from my longtime love, now suddenly dropped into my lap today.”

My brain raced. I was thinking, it’s one thing to lick some leg and ass skin, but a real live non-wife pussy? And oh-mygod, she said orgasm. Could cocksucking, even fucking, be far behind? I pulled back and shook my head.

Picking up on my misgivings, Tammy, while still standing there with her legs spread, voiced a decisive “Yes!” Then suddenly she pulled my head into that now-obviously-aroused pussy and said, nicely but firmly, “Now eat!”

Male readers, I ask, what would you do? Inadvertently, my tongue touched Tammy’s wet lips, and waves of pleasure began filling my brain. However unintentional that tongue touch may have been, it constituted an official cunt lick. A forensic examination could show that I had molecules of her cunt juice on my tongue. Not to mention that if I pulled away now from these most desirable possibilities, I might have the honor, or rather dishonor, of being the first male in human history to pull his tongue away from such an offering.

This was just too much responsibility to take on, so I lunged in and gave my beautiful temptress my best-ever cunt-licking, and imagined my eloquent wife, the beautiful, Naomi, rising to Churchillian heights, saying, “Paul, this is your finest cunt lick.”

I always think a person tends to get back what he puts out, and accordingly my best-ever cunt-licking was rewarded with my best-tasting-ever cunt juice. And the more I licked, the louder Tammy’s moans became. “I can’t believe it!” she said. “He’s eating me out, my longtime fantasy friend.”

This gal was so hot that it took hardly ten seconds of clit-sucking before her whole body was shaking. And as good as her residual cunt juice had tasted, her sudden gushing of fresh cunt juice came close to overwhelming me with its fragrance and taste. I managed to lap it up as fast as she spurted it, to the point where she said to “leave some for the next event.”

Before I could ponder what that “event” could be — for me, a blissfully happily married man — Tammy eased my concern by saying: “Paul, after that best-ever cunt lick, I just have to sit down.” Ah, relief, I thought!

Well, she sat down all right — right on my rigid cock, which somehow was pulled out of my pants. Fortunately for me, a loyal husband, the combination of the tightness of Tammy’s pussy and the fatness of my cock permitted just my cockhead to enter. If I ever I had to account for my behavior, I liked to think I could argue that such minimal penetration didn’t qualify as “fucking,” especially considering the fact of my being taken by surprise.

Further, any future judge should give me appropriate credit for my cry of “Tammy, we can’t! Get off!” This got her up and off, and me out, I thought. The words that came to mind were “crisis resolved.” But a second later came another “sitdown.” This time she enveloped a good inch or two of cock.

Now my brain couldn’t find any loopholes — we were now officially fucking! What was a good husband to do? With his cock under assault from this voluptuous creature’s gorgeous pussy, his face smothered in her beautiful, firm tits, and his mouth filling with her fresh, luscious cunt juice?

My answer was to push up my hips in rhythm with Tammy’s sitdown No. 3. By No. 5 she hit bottom and stopped for a minute, leaning down for some passionate kissing, followed by her first words for a while: “Sweetheart, you’re my lover now. So give me the load I’ve been waiting all these years for.” And she went wild, bouncing up and down, grunting and screaming. Wasn’t it only natural, then, that yours truly went wild too, pushing back up forcefully? And is it any wonder that within a minute I began spurting? And kept on spurting.

“At last!” she cried. “At last I’m getting it!” And she began shaking and giving me her own liquid release. Which must have triggered some awareness on her part of the physical reality of our joint releases, because suddenly she went rigid and cried out, “The couch! My mother’s beloved couch!”

I guess I thought she was kidding. I didn’t stop. And then she was barking, “Stop! Pick me up! Carefully!” Her pussy muscles squeezed my cock as she went on, “Keep it in! No dripping!”

By then I was standing with those gorgeous legs wrapped around my waist. She sounded calmer now. “Good. It looks okay. Now start walking, slowly, to the bathroom over there. And don’t you dare pull your fat plug out. You’re walking on Mom’s cherished rug now!”

I couldn’t suppress a chuckle, which brought forth a look that said, “What?,” then the actual question, “What?”

“Your plug comment,” I said with a chuckle. “You have such a cute sense of humor. Equal to any situation. I love it! And speaking of situations, just look at ours right now. Even if I showed them a video of this, no one would believe it. Least of all me.”

“Yes, it’s all very humorous,” Tammy said. “I love you for it. It will be our secret memory for a long, long time.”

I set her down in the bathtub, then finally “pulled the plug.” Her precautions had been well advised. The drainage was substantial.

Once we were cleaned up, Tammy said, “I guess you’d better head off.”

I nodded.

“Or — ” she said, with that expression I had quickly gotten to know. “Or you could join me in my bedroom and take over for the dildo I was planning to use for the next half-hour. After what we just did, I have to come down slowly. I need the reverse of foreplay. I don’t suppose you could manage that, could you?”

Once again, I ask you, what’s a guy to do? Here I was, all cleaned up, ready to rush home to my sexy wife who’d been waiting a week. She would rightfully expect two or three loads, and at least the first one big — and fast. Now I’d already lost that first load, and staying with Tammy would cost the second.

Tammy understood my hesitation. “Paul, sweetheart,” she said, “if I were you, I would go home right now. On the other hand, I must tell you that if you stay, this time I’ll be lying flat on my back, with my knees up and my legs, which you liked to lick so much, spread and wrapped around your waist again. And I’ll be moaning a lot. For me, it’s either you or my dildo. For you, it’s either my pussy or your wife’s that gets your second load.”

Staring straight in my eyes, she continued, “While you’re making up your mind, let me show you.” She grabbed my hand, yanked me down the hall to her bedroom, quickly removed her clothes, lay on the bed, spread her legs, reached for her dildo, turned it on, placed the tip on her pussy and asked, “Will it be you, the real Paul, or will it be Paul-the-dildo?”

Does anyone want to guess my answer? A hint is that I took one look at Tammy’s long, slim, shapely, smooth and spread legs. She knew that her legs had started it all, back when I first pulled up in my car. And now she was displaying them oh-so-invitingly. As I exhaled, she smiled victoriously, put Paul-the-dildo away and reached out for me, saying, “Just another 15 minutes and one more load.”

Well, almost. It was 30 minutes and two more loads. I ended up on empty, and even Tammy’s seemingly inexhaustible supply of energy was exhausted. The experience was indescribable, however. And then, with activity ceased, we lay quietly in each other’s arms for a good five minutes, not saying a word beyond the occasional “Mmm.”

At last there came from Tammy a friendly but firm “Time to go.” After that our words were minimal, though the soft hugs we shared said a lot. At my car she said, “I would say our special friendship has been reestablished. And redirected. So you must visit again. By all means bring your lovely wife and family, when my family is here. They’d love to see you. And Paul, sweetheart, I hope there will also be one-on-one visits.” We exchanged kisses on the cheek, and I drove off.

You want to know what happened three hours later at home, don’t you? All was okay. As I got out of the car, my peerless Naomi gave me the most welcoming greeting possible, and inside the house it quickly turned sexual. Don’t ask me how I did it, but I managed to get off a sizable load rather quickly, and then a smaller second one. If I had to guess how I did it, I’d say that my wife is just that sexy and I love her that much.

When things settled down, I did tell Naomi about my impromptu visit to the Grant house — and about seeing Tammy, though minus the sex part. And now we really are planning a visit to our wonderful old neighbors.

What about those “one-on-one visits” Tammy hoped for? Right now I’m saying no — as beautiful as that visit was, it has to remain a one-time thing. But then, I’m the iron-willed guy who kept saying no to all of her temptations, and you know how that turned out.

And so, dearest Tammy, I guess we’ll have to see. But you may hear from me again.