I mention in my intro post that I’m bored. Bored with my life. I need some spice. Spice for me comes in the form of sex.
I’m looking at the short side of 40 but you’d never know it by looking at me. I keep myself in very good shape. I work hard for it and I’m proud of it. Overall, I’m all wrapped up in a very nice package: slim and tone with boobs.
What, pray tell, does this have to do with my neighbor? I’ll tell you what. I want to fuck him. How’s that?
He lives across the street from me and has probably only been able to buy his own beer for maybe five years. His name is Joey and I tease him without mercy. He has never acknowledged me even when it is very obvious to both of us that he is looking my way and that I’m enticing him to do so.
His work schedule is very regular and I’ve tuned in to his comings and goings. He makes it easy for me to identify when he is around, revving that big engine on his old Chevy truck. My kitchen slash dining room faces the street and I make it a point every morning to have the shades pulled up and the lights on. I always wear a tight tank top and my clingy yoga pants. Everything on display, up on my stage.
I know that the only thing he can see is me going about my morning ritual of getting breakfast, making coffee, herding kids up for school. And I know he sits out there in the dark interior of his truck, watching me, revving that engine, and smoking his first cigarette of the day. When he peels away from the curb, heading off to where ever it is that he works, I pause in my doings and let him see me watching as he drives away.
What does he think when he sees me doing this? David (my husband) is an extremely good-looking man. Very sexy. Plus he obviously provides for all my needs. The huge house in the gated community. My fancy cars. What must my neighbor think about him knowing that I’m sending vibes out his way instead of toward my husband? Does he even care or give this a thought? He’s really very young. Mid-twenties but still living at home.
I wonder if he talks to his friends about me. I wonder if he jerks off while thinking about me. If he does, how does his fantasy involving me go down? Is he the aggressive one? Am I?
It’s so exciting to do this. Fuck around with him. Give him ideas. And there are days when David is away on business when I get these urges to leave him a note under his windshield wiper…
“Come over tonight after 11:00pm,” it would say.
And I would give the kids each a dose of the Tylenol-3 I have stashed away for those occasions when I need them to sleep hard. And give the nanny the night off. And I’d wait for him to show up. Because he would show up.
Damn, I want to fuck him.
For now, I’m going to have to settle for the thrill of drawing him in. Making him think about me. Only me. Like going out to use my weed wacker along the fence line in front wearing only my bikini top and a tight pair of designer jeans. He almost fell over when he caught sight of me. Like being out in front sweeping up all the leaves from the front sidewalks and gutters. I have a gardener for the weeds and the sidewalks and the street sweeper comes regularly along our affluent curb.
Then I’ll go a few days without giving him anything. I’ll hide out. Close my shades. Avoid him. Let his frustration over not seeing me build up.
All this play is building up for me, too. There are days when I just want to yank him out of his truck and drag him to my bed. Show him things that the little girls he’s been with have no idea exist. Rock his world.
Fuck his brains out until he explodes all over my $1500 silk sheets.
