Shared by my toyboy (fm:threesomes, 5587 words)

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The spark had long gone out of our marriage before then. He hardly ever paid me a compliment, despite my attempts to dress up for him, while sex was something we rarely did after all these years.

Three months ago, Francis, a 20-year-old God, had moved into the close and just three doors away from us. When I first clapped my eyes on him, I sensed long-forgotten feelings glow inside me. ‘Hello, you,' I swooned, eyes fixed on him as he unloaded the removal van.

It was a warm sunny day, and so, naturally, he wore a T-shirt with jeans. As he lifted up a box, I noticed his big strong arm muscles flex and imagined him carrying me the same.

‘What I would love to have you do to me,' I lusted, one hand on my voluptuous right breast while fingers of my other hand had found their way inside my panties, mildly moist with need and yearning I noticed, a finger trailing along the line of my crease.

I let my neighbour settle in before taking a tray of freshly baked cookies over to him. I was dressed in the most tight- fitting top I had, top two buttons undone, tits pushed up from my half cup bra and the shortest skirt I owned.

When he opened the door, his eyes popped out of their sockets at my excessive cleavage. For the first time in so long a time, I suddenly felt desired and that translated to my body. I felt my nipples start to tingle, my clit throb incessantly and my pussy flood with arousal juices.

"For you. A welcome to the neighbourhood gift. I baked them myself," I told him, the tray perked at midriff level.

"They look -"

"Scrummy?" I offered, waiting to be invited in.

"I'm Julia. And you are?"

"Francis. Here, let me take those," he offered.

‘Please do and the rest,' I lusted, stepping inside Francis' hall where I waited while he closed the front door after me.

"Through here," he directed, ushering me along his hallway to the lounge, Francis now carrying the cookies.

I spent the next few days knocking on his door with some tasty snacks I'd baked, my outfits getting that bit shorter with each visit.

On Friday, having Robert left for work, I put on a full set of black lingerie - a half cup bra, thong, suspenders and a pair of lace top stockings - before changing my slippers for a pair of ‘fuck me' heels and putting on a long mac.

That did the trick, and within seconds of Francis inviting me in and my dropping my mac to the floor, we were all over one another; kissing, grabbing, fondling.

"Yes," I gasped, feeling his warm wet tongue tease the tip of a nipple as he sucked on it, his big warm hands, and they were that alright, cupping a tit.

"I've, yes, wanted you since I first saw you, Francis. My husband doesn't fuck me any more. I so need to be fucked," I crooned, his fingers stroking my neglected pussy through the dripping wet material covering my horny needful pussy.

"You're not shaved. Good, I so love a hairy kemp pussy," he rejoiced.

"You do?" I swooned.

"Yes, you do," I gasped, Francis having moved his head level with my

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Lyn writes Thu 8 Aug 2024 13:35:

Love it

Lyn xxx

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