I had to admit this, even to myself, but I am her dirty little secret. There I said it, “I am a dirty little secret!” I think I should be ashamed, and maybe I am — at least when I am not looking at her dozing on my bed.

She is Constance and she lives right across the street from me. She lives there with her two daughters and her husband of something just shy of twenty years. This wasn’t something I planned. It just sort of happened. I know, I know, how cliché of me, having an affair with a married soccer-mom type knowing full well she was never going to leave her husband for me, not when she treats me like her kid sister unless she’s slipping around to my backdoor for a little afternoon nookie.

My name is Clarey and we have been doing this for going on five years. I can’t even tell her I love her, all I can do is fuck her as often as we get together. Our initial meeting was simple, I had just moved in and she and her daughters showed up to introduce themselves while I was moving empty boxes to the street for the recycler to pick them up in the morning. She brought over some food, which was very welcome, but I had thought she was disappointed when I told her I was single and no kids. Her daughters were thirteen and fourteen then and I think at least one of them was hoping I had a teenage boy for her to meet, the other was pretty indifferent to me.

Connie and I stood talking after her kids headed back across the street and she invited me to a little party that weekend, supposedly a simple little gathering. I was mostly looking forward to it, a good way to meet the locals, but I was more than a little hesitant. As a lesbian, I was often less than welcome in many neighborhoods and while I don’t advertise, I also don’t really hide it. Which pretty much sums up the party. Half the guys tried to hit on me, ranging from some older divorced/widowers to a few brave teenagers and even some of the guys I knew were married. I’m not sure any of the married women caught on, but a few of them did give me the stink-eye later. One, Connie of course, thought it was kinda funny because the wife of that particular couple fooled around more than her husband did!

“So, had your fill?”

“I’ve hardly eaten anything.”

She grinned, “Not food, getting so much male attention. I think Timmy, the blond teenager, is going to be beating off to your face tonight.”

“That’s pretty damn gross, you know that?”

“I know, just be glad it’s not summer and you were in a bathing suit. You are gorgeous and since most of the guys have no conscience where their dicks are concerned, you might be causing a host of wet dreams.”

“You realize you are wrecking my own sleep now — Ewwww!”

“Why, I would love to have attention like that when I was your age, even the teenagers.”

I leaned in close, “That would be fine if I was into guys.”

She paused and didn’t jump away like I was some sort of devil-worshipper. That was a reaction I have heard from some religious nut-jobs on occasion. “You’re a lesbian?”

“Signed, sealed, and delivered! I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t tell anyone. Some people get pretty weird.”

She thought for a second, “Okay, no problem. I guess I can see that.”

I was happy she was going to keep it on the down-low, but I also knew it might get out sooner or later, especially if I don’t date anyone they can see or when a girlfriend might spend the night — hopefully, something that will occur with some degree of frequency.

The next couple of months were actually pretty good. I got comfortable with most of the neighbors, Connie and I hit it off pretty well, as friends. I was so glad she wasn’t one of the ones that freak out at the idea of a lesbian daring to live amongst ‘normal’ people.

One evening, Connie showed up with a bottle of wine. Her kids were away at some school sporting thing, I had no idea where her husband was. It really was no big deal, we put on a chick-flick and enjoyed the wine. Then Connie started laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

“You called this a ‘chick-flick.’ One of my friends once told me the difference between a chick-flick and other movies is that there’s talking in it.” We laughed together, maybe a little harder than we might have if we hadn’t been near the bottom of the bottle of wine. We were on the couch and she actually fell off onto the floor laughing.

Still giggling, I tried to help her back up, but she pulled me down. We ended up rolling around on the carpet still laughing. We ended up face to face and — well, if this had been some sort of chick-flick, like a romantic comedy, we would have kissed. But, since this is real life, we looked at each other and started laughing all over again. Then she started tickling me, which is a particular weakness. So I retaliated.

After several minutes we were both out of breath and I found myself looking down her top at her bra-less breasts. I looked away quickly, but she caught my head.

“You can look if you want.”

“Connie, …”

She put a finger to my lips, then shucked her top in one motion, surprising the hell out of me. “I know you look, and I’ve always appreciated it. Well, I guess what I appreciated was knowing you thought I was attractive without any of the silly male reactions, you know the leering and the drooling. I can certainly go a whole year without that moron Frank making a pass at me!”

I had to laugh at that because we had several similar conversations about men, in particular their reaction as pretty women. The complete lack of subtlety, especially in the younger men and older ones. Frank was a neighbor with a gorgeous wife, but he was a dog when he drinks and was always embarrassing Donna, his wife. Remember the Disney movie “Up!”? The reaction of the canine characters to “Squirrel!” Yea, that’s what seems to happen to guys when a pretty girl gets into view. The funny part is they think they are being subtle, but after a few times of being in the middle of a conversation with a guy and his eyes go over your shoulder to focus elsewhere even if his mouth keeps going.

Connie is a beautiful woman, eight years my senior. I have seen her in her bathing suit, and while she might not opt for bikinis nowadays, I think she would look pretty damn good in one. I, on the other hand, have never even owned one. In fact, the first time she invited me over to hit her pool, I had to go and buy a swimsuit. My long, lean body was not built for a bikini, but the high-thigh cut with the multi-slit chest panel looked pretty good on me. I was so tempted to ask her to let me apply the suntan oil, but I didn’t. Like any hormonal guy, you can imagine what I thought about later that night.

Now, here I was, face to face with a lovely pair of breasts and a woman I not only liked, but find very attractive, but she’s married! A big no-no for me. As much as I would like to blame the wine, one bottle wasn’t enough to blame this behavior. I was on the verge of chickening out and she took my hand and put it on her breast. I felt her nipple hardening under my palm and … well as they say, “That’s all she wrote!” I didn’t try and kiss her, not then, but there was no way I could resist that lovely breast, even knowing the hell that we might pay in the aftermath.

She moaned as I sucked her nipple and squeezed the other breast. It went right to my head, that low-pitched quiet little sound. I don’t think, even to this day I have heard anything so sensual and arousing as that moan of hers. I know, I know we shouldn’t have, but we did. It was magnificent, to say the least. I was in a pretty long dry spell, which might have had something to do with it. But she was pretty damn amazing.

She never hesitated to do anything, even though I was positive I was the first woman she had sex with. I loved looking down and seeing her head between my legs almost as much as I loved tasting her. We tribbed and touched, and after we were pretty much satiated, we finally kissed. Now making love with her was wonderful, but that kiss was searing and one I would have never forgotten if we hadn’t gone on to re-enact it as often as Connie wanted.

I, on the other hand, was more down-to-earth and assumed this was a one-time thing and I spent the rest of the night worrying I had ruined the best friendship I currently had. Needless to say, I was surprised the next morning, before each of us headed off to work, when she popped over for a cup of coffee like nothing had happened the night before. She didn’t mention it, so neither did I. I wasn’t sure if she was having second thoughts because I know I was.

The next couple of weeks settled down to what had been pretty normal for us. I was pretty tempted to bring up what happened, but there never seemed to be the right time. Either her husband was around or one of her daughters. Or something just kept getting in the way. I don’t know, but on Sunday she came around. Her husband was at a buddy’s house watching baseball, her daughters were off with friends so we were alone, again.

Without a word, her top came off and then she came close and her scent filled my head again. Any thoughts I had about discussing it or being logical about the whole thing faded when I caught her scent. The sweet jasmine she used in her hair and the vanilla body wash made a combination that was uniquely her. She stepped close and kissed me on my neck and we went on from there.

That set the stage for pretty much the next five years. A couple of times a week as her family was off doing other things, she would come over, and more often than not, we would end up in the bed, on the sofa, the dining table, or just the floor. It wasn’t just physical, well not on my part. I couldn’t have maintained such a relationship with anyone if it was only getting laid. I fell hard for her, but I know she didn’t fall quite so hard for me.

I still spent plenty of time with Connie and her family watching her daughters go from annoying teenagers to lovely young women. I found that I liked her husband more than I thought when we first met, which actually made our affair a lot harder on me.

Five years is a long time for a secret affair, maybe even a record-breaker. But like all things, they eventually end. Ours started crashing down over Christmas. Her older daughter was home from college and she came by looking for Connie for something or other. Connie had been over for coffee and some mutual teasing. There was too much family stuff going on to do more — but foreplay is always fun, even stretched over several days. She loved getting my motor running. I can’t complain, I love her breasts more than my own and if they were still wet as she tucked them back into her bra, it was all for a good cause.

Of course, I didn’t know the end might be in sight right away, but after Connie left, my front door opened and Marisol simply walked right in. I was a little surprised because even Connie usually knocked. Mari had certainly grown into a lovely young lady. She was slim with small curves, and always had a ready smile. One summer, when she was in high school, she hung around so much I barely got to see Connie. Mari had just finished her second year at Uni. Since I had gone to the same school, we had chatted about it often. But the look on her face didn’t say much to me.

She stood there looking at me and without a word I realized the jig was up. I wasn’t sure what gave it away, but Mari had never looked at me with that deadpan face. I wasn’t able to say anything just then. My imagination went nuts on how this would affect Connie, her girls, and her husband. Then Mari pulled a Connie and took off her top!

To say I was shocked would be an incredible understatement. She stood there with those cute and perky 32B’s staring at me and still not saying a word. Since I was too damn surprised, I bet my mouth was opening and closing like a fish out of water. Mari kicked off her shoes and then her jeans and panties followed. She was beautifully naked in front of me and still, my mind had totally fritzed out.

“I’ve known you preferred women for a while now, but you and my Mom! I was so jealous!”

Jealous? I think my shock doubled.

“I’ve had a crush on you for a long time.” She walked closer, no that’s not the right word, she stalked closer. Her movements were more like a cat stalking its prey. If I could have backed up, I would have, but there was this minor problem of a wall right behind me. She didn’t look like a smaller version of Connie, that was more her sister, Shelby, but she still looked so damn young to me.

Let me be straight, well in words anyway. I have nothing against younger women. Many of them are sexy as hell, but Mari was more like a little sister than a lover. Just as she pressed her body against me and slipped her hands under my top, cupping the breasts her mother had just recently been sucking on. Then my freaking door opened again, I really have to learn to keep that locked!

“Mari, what the hell?” It was Shelby, of course. What else could make this any worse? A sexy naked Mari against me, a pissed-off-sounding High School Senior in my doorway. What could be next, Jeff, their dad, walking in?

Shelby closed the door behind her and said, “I thought you were going to wait for me,” as she tossed her top as well. My mind fritzed as I was trying to decide if I was in Heaven or just stopping by on my way to Hell.

 

 

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Copyright © 2021 by Brookell. This story may not be reproduced in any form without the express permission of the author.





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