Neighbourly to Neighbourhood Watch 03

Chapter 3 Neighbourhood Watch Night

I was twenty minutes late, and I knew Simon would be wondering if I'd chickened out.

Five hundred metres. Five minutes, if that. Even in these heels.

Instead I'd stood in my kitchen with my coat already on, arguing with myself while the clock kept reminding me exactly how long I'd been wasting.

By the time I stepped outside, the lane was dark, the single street lamp casting a soft amber glow.

I walked down our drive, past Jack and his mum's house, then up the lane towards Simon's. My heels clicked against the pavement, the clipboard tucked under my arm more for appearance than necessity. Between our houses lay only the narrow lane, bordered by two hedges and a strip of open road. It was close enough that, from his front window, Simon could see straight to our gate.

The cool, damp night air brushed against my bare legs as I turned onto his path and climbed the two steps to his front door.

I held my breath as I knocked.

The wait couldn't have been more than a few seconds, but my heart had already started doing ridiculous things by the time the door opened.

Simon looked at me without saying a word at first. His eyes flicked over me my hair, my lips, the coat pulled tight at the waist and something in his expression changed. Only for a heartbeat, but I caught it.

"Simon," I said, letting my gaze drift deliberately to the front of his trousers. "I hope you haven't started without me. That looks ready to burst."

I looked back up, fighting a smile.

"Besides, after all that chasing, are you really going to leave me standing on the doorstep? The neighbours will start talking."

A grin spread across his face.

"Come in."

I brushed past him, my coat just catching against his leg, and carried the clipboard into the hall before placing it squarely on the table.

"I brought this," I said, lifting it with exaggerated professionalism, "to make tonight look official. Just in case anyone sees me arriving dressed like this and starts wondering what sort of meeting we're having."

Simon folded his arms.

"Planning on taking minutes... or a blow-by-blow account for your husband?"

I met his eyes and smiled.

"I can take some dictation, if you like."

"Trust me," he murmured, stepping closer. "You will be taking dick tonight."

He reached for my coat.

I caught his wrist with a smile.

"I'll do it better."

I undid the belt one-handed and shrugged the coat from my shoulders. It slipped to the floor, pooling around my heels.

Burgundy lace. Black stockings. Heels that pushed me over six feet.

Simon forgot to breathe for a second. I actually saw him swallow.

I glanced down at myself before looking back at him as though none of it was unusual.

"This is why I was late," I said. "Twenty minutes standing in front of the mirror, putting things on, taking them off, changing my mind."

I gave a small shrug.

"In the end I went with the obvious answer. The only thing I didn't need to change was this. The coat was just there to stop me giving the neighbours an eyeful."

A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth.

"I hope you haven't invited the whole neighbourhood. Otherwise this could get awkward."

A laugh escaped him.

"No," Simon said, his eyes drifting over me again. "You're my only invited guest."

I stepped over the coat and walked into the front room as though I owned it, shoulders back, my heels clicking softly across the wooden floor.

After five paces I stopped.

Turned.

Shifted my weight onto one hip.

I let my eyes wander slowly to the front of his trousers, lingering there just long enough before lifting them back to his face.

"It isn't just the outfit that's got you flustered, is it?"

It wasn't really a question.

I tilted my head, enjoying the silence.

"So..." I said. "What were you doing before I got here, Simon?"

I smiled.

"Go on. Be honest."

Without saying a word, he reached for the phone resting on the arm of the sofa.

He unlocked it and turned the screen towards me.

I leaned closer, taking in what was playing on the screen.

The silent rhythm of Jack's hips.

My husband's faint reflection in the glass.

I looked away before either of us had to linger on it.

"Sit," I said softly, nodding towards the chair.

Simon obeyed.

I perched on the armrest beside him, one stockinged leg brushing his shoulder as I rested a hand lightly against his chest. With the other, I steadied his wrist, keeping the phone angled between us.

"Confess," I murmured. "How many times have you watched it?"

His throat bobbed.

"Around twenty."

I let out a quiet laugh, my eyes never leaving the screen.

"Twenty?"

"At least."

Only then did I turn to look at him.

"And how many times have you really enjoyed yourself watching it?"

His lips curled into a smile.

"Twice last night."

He paused.

"Three more today."

A smile spread across my face.

"Three today?"

He nodded, unable to hold my gaze for long.

I let the silence hang between us.

"When was the first time?"

He swallowed.

"before I met you in Waitrose."

I couldn't help laughing.

"Christ, Simon."

I shook my head, amused.

laughing, low and genuinely amused. "Christ. You can't even buy groceries without picturing me bent over the trolley."

I let go of his wrist he held the phone so we could both see the screen as I pressed my palm against him instead. Slowly, I unbuttoned his trousers and slid my hand inside. The hard line waiting for me was only the beginning. He was bigger than I'd imagined you weren't exaggerating with that 'trojan' tease in Waitrose where you.

My hand closed around his thick cock, tracing every pulsing vein beneath my touch.

Gently, I pulled him out and took in every detail for the first time the swollen length, slick with moisture and gleaming in the light. I wrapped my fingers around him, slow and deliberate, beginning to pump with teasing strokes, feeling his Dick pulse in my hand.

"Look at you," I murmured. "Hard as a rock. You really are shameless."

"Left hand," Simon said. "I want to see your ring next to my cock."

arched an eyebrow, freed my left hand, held it up so the diamond caught the light, then wrapped my fingers firmly around him. The cool band grazed his skin, and his breath hitched at the sight.

Cupping his balls with my right hand, Simon's hairless skin felt smooth; he was looking away from the phone screen again completely absorbed. I liked that as I slowly pumped him. I knew the end of his home video was close, and so did he he'd watched it enough times.

He grabbed my wrist. "Enough. On your knees."

I raised my brows. "Bossy tonight."

"On your knees," he repeated firmly.

I knelt slowly, heels clicking, stockings pulled tight, eyes locked on his. My left hand braced on his thigh, the diamond glinting in the light.

I looked up at him. "I'm going to blow you, but you're not fucking me. Jack was a one-off. One load of another man's cum in me this week is enough."

Simon laughed quietly, guiding his cock toward my mouth. "Open."

My tongue circled the head before my lips sealed around him. I slid down, wet and slow, saliva clinging as I pulled back, then down again, wetter, filthier, spit spilling onto my chin.

I pulled back with a wet pop, eyes watering, mascara already tracking down my cheeks. I reached both arms behind my back, unclasped the bra, and hooked my thumbs under the shoulder straps, sliding them down slowly, holding his gaze the entire time. The bra dropped to the floor.

I looked up at him, chin wet, tits out, the first drops of spit from my chin landing on my chest.

"There," I said, cupping them and giving them a playful jiggle. "The girls should help move things along. Saves you from getting any ideas about anything else."

He reached for his phone. "Don't wipe your chin."

He brushed his thumb across my messy lips, then ran his fingers down to my nipples, pinching them, rolling them between his fingertips. My own spit made them shiny and erect.

Simon tilted my chin, cock twitching against my mouth. "Think now would be a good time to call your husband?"

My eyes widened. Then I laughed, breathless. "You wouldn't."

"Wouldn't I?" He grinned. "Imagine him answering, just in time to see his wife on her knees, ring flashing while she drools on my cock."

I giggled wickedly, then swallowed him down again wetter, deeper, my hand working the base while spit ran freely. I pulled back just long enough to gasp. "Please don't. This is our secret. I won't tell him if you let me fuck you, like you let Jack."

My lips were still wrapped around him when Simon reached across for his phone again.

My eyes flicked up. Curious, then wary. I kept bobbing.

"It's okay," he said. "Just getting a few more for the wank bank. You know how I like to watch you back."

He tapped out a message, deliberately slow, thumb moving where I could see it. Then, with one hand in my hair, he cleared his throat and read it aloud.

Nix and I were thinking of making this a weekly thing is there a night you're working late next week? I'd hate to waste anyone's time, but it does get boring otherwise. Nice having your wife share the load, even if it's just bobbing up and down the lane before tea and biscuits. Though... I might be tempted to offer her a whisky instead.

He stroked my hair, smirking down at me. "Nice try. Right now you're going to keep sucking. We'll talk about what comes after when I'm finished with your mouth."

Something dark moved through me at his tone. I opened wide and took him back in, spit dripping freely, obeying.

He let me work him for a few strokes, watching my ring flash against his thigh. Then he brushed my cheek with his thumb.

"Now," he said, grinning. "You've done that. Lie back. I'm coming to get my cookies and cream."

I pulled off with a gasp, laughing. "Cookies and cream?"

"Exactly." He eased me back by the shoulders, guiding me down until I was stretched across the sofa, stockings tight over my thighs, burgundy lace of the suspender belt framing everything, chest bare, mascara streaked down my cheeks.

"You're ridiculous," I said. My voice wavered when he pressed a kiss against me.

"Ridiculously hungry," he corrected, kissing me again, slower. "And you've been taunting me with this all night."

My laugh broke into a moan as he hooked his fingers into my knickers and slid them down my thighs, the damp fabric peeling free, snagging on the suspender clips before he tossed them aside.

My heels kicked at the cushions as his tongue pressed against my pussy, slow and deliberate. My fingers gripped the armrest.

"Simon," I whispered. "Tea and biscuits will never sound the same again."

Then peep, peep.

The phone chimed twice on the table.

My body jolted, thighs clamped shut. "Simon," I begged, tugging at his hair, voice climbing. "Please just look. What if it's him?"

He lifted his head, lips glistening, and grinned. "Not until I've had every drop."

I bit my lip, eyes wild.

"Sit on my face," he whispered, "and let me make you come in my mouth. Then I'll let you look."

I mounted his face.

He pulled me down harder, tongue relentless, holding me there as I rode him shamelessly.

"Jesus, Simon," I moaned, fingers locking in his hair. "Don't stop don't you dare stop."

The phone chimed again. I half-laughed, half-cried out, hips bucking harder as I ground against his mouth.

"Oh God... ignore it," I groaned to myself, voice breaking. "Just keep your tongue there yes, yes"

My thighs clamped tight around his head as I shuddered, my whole body jerking as I came hard against his face.

He held me down through every wave, licking until my cries dissolved into breathless whimpers, until I finally slumped forward, hair sticking to my damp cheeks.

Only then did he ease me up, smirking at the state of my face.

"You've had my cookie,". "And I've creamed all over you I murmured."

I laughed weakly, my eyes still glazed. "Now... do I get to see those messages?"

Simon reached out lazily and dragged the phone off the table. The screen lit up, two unread notifications waiting. He grinned down at me, still sprawled across the sofa, and held it out.

The first message filled the screen.

Husband (Neighbourhood Lane Chat): Haha, you two are relentless. I'll be late tomorrow as well. I'll let you know about next week. You'll have to share the load without me.

My jaw dropped.

"Oh my God," I groaned, burying my face in my hands.

Simon scrolled to the next.

Husband (Neighbourhood Lane Chat): Free for a call now if you want... otherwise I'll be back around 8:45. 9 o'clock, 9:15 latest.

My whole body went rigid.

"Seven forty-five?" I stared at him. "Simon, that's less than an hour."

He dropped the phone back onto the table, still chuckling, and leaned over me. I was sprawled across the sofa, stockings at my knees, knickers nowhere to be seen, face flushed scarlet, my makeup in complete disarray.

"Free for a call now," Simon repeated, mimicking the message with a grin.

My eyes wide in disbelief.

"No, Simon," I said quickly. "We shouldn't."

He picked up his own phone, holding it where I could see the screen glow.

"It'd just be your face," he teased. "Sweet and innocent. Hair a mess, cheeks flushed. No one needs to know what I'm doing out of frame."

My jaw dropped.

"Jesus Christ," I whispered, half horrified, half something else entirely.

He kissed the inside of my thigh, lower and lower, until his mouth hovered just above my freshly trimmed pussy. "Imagine it," he murmured, tongue flicking wickedly at my lips. "Him asking if we've done a spreadsheet, while the only spreading we've done is your legs. You'd have to sit there biting your lip to keep quiet."

A broken laugh dissolved into a moan as his tongue pressed deeper. I clutched at the cushions, eyes narrowing through the haze.

"Shall we see what happens," Simon whispered against me, "if I really do hit call and only let him see your face while I eat you again?"

My breath caught. "Simon, don't you dare."

He grinned. "Then give me a reason not to."

I fumbled for my own phone, breathless, screen lighting my face as I scrolled I just wanted to check, to see what he'd actually sent, to be sure.

He caught my wrist lightly, grin widening. "Oh no. Not just checking. If you're picking up your phone, we're doing this properly."

My eyes went widened with panic. "Simon! No. You're kidding, right?"

"Just a standard call," he said. "Go on, Nix. Let's see how well you multitask."

I took the phone with trembling fingers.

He positioned me kneeling up on the sofa, tits pushing against the back, feet dangling, arse in the air.

I opened my favourites, pressed The husband, put the phone to my ear and waited for the dial tone.

Put it on speaker Simon hissed in my other ear as soon as I did he answered.

"Hi, love," I said brightly, voice pitched a little too high as the call connected slightly panicked in the moment.

How's the team biscuits he teased?

Good I replied

Simon stepped behind me. I felt him between my feet first as they stuck off the edge of the sofa, his hands on my hips, taking his weight, then he lowered himself between my legs and buried his face into me. I bit my lip against a cry.

"Sorry, stubbed my toe," I blurted, while he pressed deeper. The sensation was overwhelming. I was trying to answer my husband while thinking, I'm fairly sure that's his nose in my arse while he laps at my pussy, stealing my composure lick by lick.

My husband's voice drifted through the line, asking if anyone else had attended. I answered no, not really, first one, just getting an idea of what needs to be attended to my hips now automatically rocking back. Every time I steadied my voice, Simon took it as an invite to press harder, each movement breaking off another fragment, my answers dissolving into scattered syllables.

Then he just stopped.

I tried to refocus, to regain a clear line of conversation. Before I could, he repositioned himself. Now he was lined up, the head parting me, rubbing slowly through my wet and ready pussy.

I breathed out with the kind of moan that says yes, fuck me instead of stop, we shouldn't. That was all it took. I spread my knees a little wider, lowered myself, pushed my face into the sofa. I didn't decide. I just stopped saying no, and my body took over.

Then came the sounds I couldn't muffle. My voice climbed beyond my control as he started to move.

"Sorry, bad signal," I managed, biting my lip as a choked moan caught in my throat.

My voice gave up before I did. I focused just long enough to land my thumb on the red button before the phone slipped from my grasp. It landed face-up on the floor, screen glowing 8:13 at the ceiling, indifferent.

I stared at it, panic flickering across my face.

Simon slowed his stroke, gripping my hips. "Plenty of time. Unless you want me to make you late."

"I'd rather you didn't, so if you wouldn't mind getting on with it I don't want to cut it too close."

"Isn't that the fun of it," he interrupted, smirking, pushing in harder. "Your husband will be on the doorstep around 9 O'Clock, and you'll still be dripping from me. But will you be there first or second?"

My eyes widened, torn between fury and craving. "You're insane."

"Maybe. But good at timekeeping," he said, gripping my hips even tighter. "Now hurry up, Nix. If you want to make it home before him, you'd better come for me again this time on my cock."

My gasp broke into a helpless moan as he drove harder, dragging it out until my whole body tightened and my thighs shook against him. The clock ticked on mercilessly as I finally came, biting my lip to stop myself from screaming.

My knees slipped off the edge of the sofa, causing him to fall forward on top of me, going deeper. I lay there still shaking, hair damp and tangled, mascara smudged in smoky streaks, lipstick faded to a wicked blur.

My eyes were drawn to the clock. "Simon, it's almost 9."

He laughed softly, still inside me, pinning me to the sofa. He built up speed like a piston before giving one last deep push, and I felt the unmistakable warmth of him finishing inside me. Then he eased back and stood.

"There you go," he said, entirely pleased with himself. "A nice cream pie to take home. And I've filmed it, in case you want a copy."

He scooped my knickers from the floor and tucked them into his pocket. Then he picked up the bra and considered it for a moment.

mine too, he said, and pocketed it.

I scrambled upright, scanning the room.

He nudged my coat further under the chair with his foot. Deliberately.

I stared at him.

"Lost property," Simon said. "You can pick the coat up tomorrow."

"Simon."

"You've got your suspender belt, stockings, clutch, and heels." He nodded towards them.

"Barefoot would be quicker though "

I grabbed my phone and dropped it into my clutch. The clock read 21:00.

"You're not actually going to make me do a walk of shame, are you?"

He grinned. "We may have to find a new name for this one. How many times did you do a walk of shame in just stockings at uni?"

I narrowed my eyes, my lips curving. "I've done a few walks of shame... but never with this little on."

"Oh, so you've had practice," he said. "Good. Because from here to your front door's, what, five hundred metres I can just make out your front door across the road from the living room? Shorter than most, you've done surely."

I groaned, half laughing. "You're impossible."

Yes, and you're late. You better get going."

I I fastened the suspender belt clips which had come off muttering to myself under my breath honestly you aren't meant to fuck me. I don't have time my fingers working the clips with the focused urgency of someone with very little time and even less dignity left to lose. The stocking clips had pulled loose in the roughness of it all. I reattached them one by one, smoothing the nylon up my thighs, clipping each one back into place before realising how ridiculous it was without the raincoat bra or knickers who cared if the crocodile clips were neat