She Make a Cryin' Man Groan, Part 1.
written by:
Van Horne

When Peter Johnson came home Monday night, Maggie was barefoot and wearing a short skirt. That was his first surprise. Then he found out she wasn't wearing a bra under her thin white T-shirt. She made a lovely supper, and then seemed almost eager to get to bed. Half way through the early evening news, she grabbed the remote control out of Peter's hand, turned the TV off, and slipped out of her pyjamas.

My goodness, he had often thought to himself, I married a good-looking woman. It wasn't just that she was really pretty, with high plummy cheek bones, soft naturally red lips and deep dark blue eyes, but she was also in great shape. Not an ounce of flab on her, and perfect peaches and cream skin. She had a slim, toned waist, sexy-curvy hips, and a butt that was just big and round enough to make her self-conscious, but drove a man crazy, especially when he saw it in short shorts, or in a bikini bottom. Or now, in Pete's case, in nothing at all.

On top of everything else, Maggie had firm round breasts that had a kind of... well, one of the only words Pete could think of was "charisma." They always seemed to be a bit too big for any bra she was in, and even house-trained guys would sneak glances at her chest, no matter what she was wearing. Pete had tried several times to come up with a metaphor for them that wasn't juvenile or demeaning, but failed miserably. The best he do was the old cliché - "luscious melons" - with the added idea that these luscious melons had that special something, as if they were whispering, "Look at me, I really want your sensitive hands, your hungry mouth." And it wasn't just the guys whose thoughts took a horny turn when they bumped into Maggie Johnson. More than a couple of women had trained lustful glances at her figure.

Alas, the world according to Pete saw it was not Maggie's world. She dressed modestly, hardly ever looked at other people as sexual objects, and never really thought anyone besides Pete could think of her as an object of desire. It was almost as if Fate had played a cruel joke - to make her so desirable, but at the same time to make her so naïve, so conservative, so shy and unadventurous in bed.

Maggie was comfortable with Peter, and rarely ever thought outside of the warm, dimly lit box of their little bedroom. He was the only lover she'd ever had. Only once or twice, maybe, had she even briefly considered doing something seriously wild - but this kind of thing just wasn't in her. It was like she was a sleek powerful cat that never wanted to hunt, happy with the zookeeper's handouts. Or like a Jaguar that never went more than two miles over the speed limit.

That was why tonight was so unusual. It lasted no more than ten minutes, but Maggie actually started it, and it was frenzied, furious. Afterward, she held Peter close, and fell into a deep sleep.

Peter stretched for the remote, wondering where that all came from. Was it because she was a couple of years shy of 40? He'd been hearing it for years - women in their late 30's were just starting to get into their sexual prime. And all these years, he'd been hoping Maggie would get into her prime sooner than later. He wasn't complaining, naturally, but tonight something was definitely out of the ordinary . Yeah, sure, Maggie liked sex, but she was rarely the one to get the ball rolling, and there usually had to be some kind of big production beforehand, like a night out or a special occasion.

They'd been married for about 5 years when Peter, in his early 30s, first started thinking that a bit of variety from the usual routines would be just the spice. He tried to interest her in some soft porn on the TV when they were in hotel rooms. Or erotic stories on the internet. Or talking dirty. Maggie showed a little interest, but not much, as if this was just the sort of thing that men needed to do - not real women. When Peter suggested she should flirt with this guy or that guy, or mumbled something about fantasies, or, for example, when he used the word threesome - with either another woman or another guy - she'd only pretend to go along because it was obvious that her husband was into it, and it would bring him a lot faster to his climax. Usually, she made it painfully obvious she was only humoring him.

Sure, Maggie loved to come with him, but she only wanted it every few weeks, and all she needed to get there was plain old Peter and her own natural hormones. Sometimes, when the drive wasn't there, she was perfectly happy to help Peter with his. She loved him. She liked his desire for her, and liked it when he built up to explosion, then sank into her, happy as a clam. At times he was definitely too juiced on whatever it was that turned his fantasy crank, in her opinion. When she talked about all this with her friends, most of them agreed guys tended to be oversexed. You just had to live with it.

No matter what happened, or what was said in bed, it was always good to see HER man come to the Big O because he thought SHE was sexy enough to get him there.

*****

All day at work, Pete kept thinking, "Something was very different last night." He wondered what it was. Did she read something? Did she hear about a friend having a wild weekend? Was one of her friends changing her mind about what they all laughed off as the "kinky stuff"? Was it the early warm spring? The crocuses, then the daffodils and tulips, were blooming in February. This was a good time to get anyone's love-blood pumping.

At supper that night, in fact, Maggie started talking about the garden work. She wanted this to be a completely eco-friendly year. She wanted to get rid of lawn weeds without herbicides, and insect pests without pesticides.

Maggie worked at home. About six hours a day she made sales calls for OmniPresent Contacts, a company that did customer satisfaction surveys for a variety of hardware and department stores. That left her with another 10 hours or so per waking day for garden work, housework, TV, reading, and whatever. Peter put in a typical 10 hours a day for a software backup business, StoreRestore Inc. It stored all the e-information, from emails to client accounts, that ran through a company's computers. If some virus wiped them out, or whatever, StoreRestore set them up again in a couple of days as if nothing happened. If they were setting up a new company with the system, or salvaging data from companies with lousy backup systems, that could take up to a couple of weeks.

Maggie was explaining how the dandelions were already crowding into the lawn, and that they were having a rash of devil's paintbrush along the back edge, where the lawn bordered the ravine. They'd bought their house a year and half ago, one of a circle of 5 big homes on the outskirts of town. Their closest neighbor was a guy they'd never seen. Apparently his wife had died of breast cancer at age 50 - she got sick just after they'd moved. He'd gone back to his home state to take care of business, and then took an extended round-the-world vacation to get away from it all. Another neighbor told Peter and Maggie that this guy and his wife had planned the trip years in advance. It was their big, early-retirement special outing, and then fate gave him the big kick in the gut.

Maggie said, "So, yesterday, I was on my hands and knees, picking young dandelions out of the lawn, and guess who sticks his head over the fence to have a chat?"

"Our neighbor? The guy we've never seen?"

"Exactly. His name is Harvey Jones. Ex-military. Just back from this long trip around the world. Interesting guy."

"Buff?"

"What's that honey?"

"You said he was in the army. So, I'm guessing he's buff. I mean, in shape? Good-looking?" Peter saw Maggie blush a deep red, which of course put his radar into high alert. Not only that, but the night before she hadn't said anything about him.

She said, "I hadn't thought of him that way. Not consciously, anyway. But... now that you mention it, yeah, he's a handsome guy. I mean, for someone who's over 50."

"Well, sweetheart, we're not that much younger. I mean, I'm 43, you're 38. This guy could be an older brother."

"True, but he still seems, well, I don't know how to put it. He has authority, like a father. He's like a, I don't know. Like a cute older uncle, or professor. Something like that."

Peter said, "So, you just talk about flowers and dandelions and stuff?"

Maggie thought, "You know, it's weird. That's exactly what we talked about. And then he offered to come over and help, and I said be my guest, it's always nice to have a helping hand. But..."

Maggie paused for a few breaths, thinking hard. Peter nudged her leg with his foot, and asked "But... what?"

Maggie said, "I don' know. I got all worked up at the fact that he was on the lawn beside me. Our conversation was totally normal, but there was some kind of, I don't know. Some kind of electricity. It was weird."

Peter asked, "Weird? As in good weird, or bad weird?"

Maggie said, "Hmm. I'd have to say it was good, but... I honestly don't know what it was." She paused for a moment. "Next time I see him, I'll see if it happens again. I'll try to explain it for you."

*****

Thursday night, Maggie seemed unusually quiet. Thursday was the second day in the week that she spent most of her time in the garden - Mondays and Thursdays. So, I knew she might have seen old Harvey again. Sure enough, after supper, she started telling me about it. "I still don't know what it is, but it's definitely there. I feel like there's an electric current charging me up when he starts talking to me."

"What? He help you out with the gardening again?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah, well?"

"Well... you know I planned to check the lawn a couple of times a week, especially in spring, when you really have to stay on top of things. There's a lot to do, but the main thing is that I want to pull the weeds by hand, right? So, I'm on my hands and knees, and Harvey joins me again, out there on his hands and knees. Just for the hell of it, he says, and to give a helping hand."

"Nothin' weird about that."

"No, but I feel like he's checking me out. I feel his eyes on me. I mean, especially when I'm facing away from him, and he's somewhere back of me."

"Huh. That isn't hard to figure. You've got one of the greatest asses in all of Massachusetts, and legs that stretch across the harbour."

"You're just saying that to get lucky."

Peter laughed. "Guilty as charged. But, tell me a bit more about this thing going on with you and Harvey."

"OK. So, when I think he's staring at me, I sneak a peak back at him, but he's completely turned around, looking away from me. I think I'm making it all up, but the next time it happens, I'm pretty sure he is checking me out."

"Hmm. Did you ever turn the tables on him?" Peter could see that Maggie didn't get his drift, so he said, "I mean, you ever get back of him, and check him out?"

Maggie blushed deeply. "I don't know. I don't think so."

They started cleaning up the dishes, and Maggie said she was headed off to bed. Peter could tell she didn't want to admit it, but she was horny again. He followed her into the bedroom, and found out soon enough....

Afterwards, Maggie was nestled in Peter's arms, when he said, "Hey beautiful?"

"Yeah?"

"I have an idea."

"Yeah?"

"Next time Harvey comes over, why don't you lead him on a little?"

Peter could feel Maggie arch her back, like a stretching cat. With a little catch in her throat, she said, "How do you mean?"

"Like, why don't you wear something really sexy. I mean, you look sexy in everything you put on, but why don't you try, like, your shortest shorts, or something?"

"Hmmm... Now who's the dirty old man?"

*****

Monday afternoon, Maggie threw on some old work clothes. She was about to go outside when she hesitated. This was very strange, she thought. I'm actually thinking of changing into something else. Since I got married, I've never really dressed for anyone besides Peter - and for myself, of course. She undressed again, and put on a pair of very short shorts, a pair she hadn't worn in about 5 years. They were a bit too risky, maybe? She changed them again for shorts that were slightly more modest, and she found a tee-shirt that was a little tighter around her chest than the plain old comfy ones she usually wore.

As before, she felt Harvey's eyes on her as they moved around the lawn. When she had the chance, she had a good look at him. He was very buff for an uncle-figure, with defined edges and creases to the muscles in his arms and legs, though he didn't, thank god, have a body-builder's rips. They just showed how much a guy was into himself, she thought. A guy should be strong, and look strong, but not look as if he had a thing for steroids.

At the end of their shift, Harvey said, "Say, I was thinking it might be nice if you came over for a cup of tea or something." Maggie looked at him with a smile. For the first time, really, she looked closely at Harvey's face, and saw, despite the thinning and silvering of his blond hair, that he was a classically handsome man. More than that, she saw how sad his eyes were, and remembered the story about the death of his wife. Her heart went out to him in that moment, and she said a cup of tea would be lovely.

They crossed a gap in the bushes that separated their backyards, and entered Harvey's place through a screen door at the back. The house was ranch-style, open concept, with a long tan corduroy couch in front of an angel-stone fireplace. The air-conditioning was a bit too cool to Maggie's liking, but that made a cup of warm tea seem a better idea than an iced tea or a lemonade.

Later that night, after Peter came home, she told him about the conversation. "We talked for about half an hour, though we kept it general. I kept wanting to ask him questions about his past, about his wife, about his trip, but..."

Peter said, "But he's a guy, right? He probably isn't ready to spill."

"Something like that. I just have the feeling that he's still crying. He has the saddest eyes."

"So," Peter said, "did he do anything, um... I mean, did he give you the impression he was still checking you out?"

Normally, Maggie would have punched Peter's arm for turning the conversation around like that, but she didn't skip a beat. "Actually, no, but I did kind of feel..." She hesitated for a couple of seconds, because this kind of thinking was very new to her. "I felt just a tiny bit like something else was going on. Just like I told you before, there's this strange something or other dancing between us."

An hour later, in bed, Maggie told Peter to get naked. He left a reading lamp on, to throw soft warm light over her body. He would never get enough of this vision, and it was even more amazing to see this perfectly naked creature come after him, turning into a fierce tigress above his very willing meat. They shared a hot, tongue wrestling kiss, then Maggie decided she just wanted - needed - a good hard fucking. She straddled her husband's throbbing hard-on, and began thrashing wildly as Peter alternately mauled and sucked her aching nipples with his hands and mouth.

Something was frustrating her, though - she was so close to crashing into her bliss, but she needed something more. Peter was saying stuff like, "You're sssoooo fucking sexy... You're my horny little ssslut...", and for one of the first times ever she found herself tuning in, instead of, as usual, thinking that Peter only needed to talk like this to get himself over the top.

She was hoping he'd say more, say something even more daring. She didn't know what, exactly, but then he said, "You're too sssexy for me... You're too much to handle... I need another pair of hands to help me out..." Maggie hissed a strangled "yesss!" back at him, and that's when Peter said, "Maybe another guy would help me out here... Maybe Harvey wants to get his hands on you..." And at that moment, the volcano exploded. Maggie's pumping thighs smashed hard into Peter's pelvic bone three more times and she skyrocketed with pleasure. Peter had never felt her cunt spasm so tightly on his cock, and he had never felt her spasm so many times in a row. In the middle of her meltdown, he had his own mind-bending orgasm. It was almost painful, because Maggie's movements were so violently out of control.

Maggie felt as if she'd lost half her mind. As she rolled off Peter, she was already drifting into sleep. Just before she lost consciousness, she heard Peter mumble, "Next time, in the garden, I think it'd be even sexier if you wore a crop top."

She mumbled back at him, "You really are a hopeless case. But..."

"Hmm?"

"But I love you anyway."

*****

Thursday, at bed-time, Maggie wanted to talk about the afternoon in the backyard. She said, "Sooo..."

Peter took the bait, "Sooo? So what?"

"Don't you want to know what happened today?"

"Well, yeah. Did Harvey tip his hand?"

Maggie said, "Well, for starters, I wore something I wouldn't normally wear."

Peter began to feel a bit like a panting puppy. "Come on, Maggie, just tell me."

"I wore... I wore a crop top, just like you suggested."

It took Peter a couple of seconds to remember their conversation on Monday night. He turned the TV off and said, "Yeah? Was it that Daisy Duke thing, the pink one?"

"No, are you kidding? That one's a bit too racy. This was the light blue one."

Peter remembered it, although Maggie had only worn it a few times. It showed a couple of inches of bare midriff. He asked, "What part of the yard were you working on today?"

"Actually," she said, "We've decided to spend half our time on his yard, and half on ours. He's decided to make Mondays and Thursdays his gardening days too, and since he does half of my work for me, I figure the least I could do was to do half his work. Besides, it means he's going chemical-free, too. Today we were in his back lawn, near the woods."

Peter said, "So, uh, anything happen?" He wondered why this was so intriguing to him, and why he wasn't feeling any jealousy. He thought, "it must be some part of my lower brain coming into play, here, hoping that Harvey would help bring out the flirt in Maggie." At the same time, he didn't want to make his interest too obvious.

Maggie said, "The sun was pretty bad today, and I realized I needed some sun-block. Strange thing, though. It was almost as if Harvey was reading my mind, because he said both of us might get burned, and he went back in to get some."

Maggie snuggled into Peter, reaching for his already stiff rod. He said, "So? Did he try anything?"

"Well, I think you just might be right about him. I mean, that he has a thing for me. He said, ‘Say, your hands are dirty. Let me put some on you.' He was very gentlemanly. He put some on the back of my neck and my lower back. Then..."

Peter reached for her breasts. Maggie's nipples were hard, distended - Peter thought he could feel them throbbing. He said, "And?"

"Oh, I don't know what came over me, Peter. I wanted him to do more. Oh! Don't get me wrong - I wouldn't really let anything happen. But... it's just that some part of me wanted to, I don't know, to feel his hands on my calves, on the back of my legs. It was like... Oh, I don't know, like he was taking care of me, but also as if he really liked my skin. But nothing more happened, and we just finished doing the yard."

"Did you have a cup of tea afterwards?"

"I asked him over to our place. I offered a tea, but he asked for a beer instead. This time, I got up the courage to ask him about last year. He was OK talking about it, though he had a bit of a cry. He had to wipe his eyes a couple of times. At the end of it all, he thanked me for listening."

Pete asked, "Was that it, then?"

"Well actually," Maggie replied, "he also gave me a nice little hug and a peck on the cheek."

In reality, the hug had lasted a good ten seconds, and the kiss on her cheek was a bit more urgent and meaningful than a "peck."

Maggie said, "We've been talking enough. Let's... you know..."

After a few minutes of rocking into each other, Maggie said, "I like it when you say naughty things. I like the sexy little somethings you tell me."

Peter took his cue, saying how much he loved his horny little slut, how her legs and ass and breasts drove him insane. Then he whispered that he needed some help with such a hot body. Maggie began to lose control. She rolled him over on his back, and felt her body start control her brain. Peter said, "What if Harvey gave me a hand. What if he started rubbing lotion on your legs. He starts oh so slowly on your calves. Then on the backs of your knees, slowly, softly, like he wanted to massage you. Then up the back of your legs, softly, sexy, wanting to touch you... to touch you, right there..." Maggie started bucking like a madwoman, and brought Peter off with her.

After holding her for a while, in silence, Peter felt thirsty, and decided on a beer instead of a glass of water from the bathroom sink. Back in bed, Maggie snuggled into him. She hadn't fallen asleep yet, so Peter took a risk, thinking out loud. "You know what you could try next time? I mean, I am truly curious. I just want to see if Harvey really and truly does have a thing for you."

Now that she was satisfied, Maggie wanted to pretend innocence. "What? What are you getting at?"

Peter said, "Wear the same top, but..." He was getting a lovely little hard-on again just thinking about this. "Why don't you try leaving your bra off?"

"Peter! I could never do that. That would be going way too far." After a brief silence, she asked, in a softer voice, "Seriously, I think I like being a little bit bad. But I don't think I could ever be that naughty!" Peter didn't say anything, mainly because he didn't know what HE really wanted from all this. He was thinking about the difference between fantasy and reality. About the difference between a light little piece of game-playing and the actions of flesh and blood humans who want to play for real.

As she fell asleep, Maggie reached absentmindedly, lovingly, for his cock - which was half-way to a hard-on. That was a shock - Peter never got hard after sex. He was usually happy for a couple of weeks afterwards, which suited her just fine. All this sex they'd been having lately must have had something to do with the hot spring. Oh yeah, and the new sexy neighbor.

She just held him there as she fell asleep. She was thinking, "My husband wants me to flirt with the neighbor... But I could never go that far. I mean, to take my bra off."

*****

The following Monday was another scorcher. As before, Harvey offered to get the sunblock, but Maggie wimped out and put it on herself. On the last pass, though, she glopped a bit too much on her hand. Instead of just rubbing her hand on the grass, she shocked herself by saying, "I squirted out a bit too much here. You want some?"

Harvey said, "Yeah, I think I forgot the back of my neck. Mmm, thanks, that felt good."

When the lawn-care was finished, she asked Harvey if he wanted a beer. They felt good about the work they were getting done. The Johnson lawn was mostly under control, and they were able to focus a bit more attention on her garden, although Harvey's lawn and garden both needed a lot more work.

After the drinks and conversation, Harvey got up to take his leave. Just as he was about to open the back door, Harvey turned to Maggie, and held her eyes with his. She was thinking, "Aha! I think I'll have Pete's answer for him - I think Harvey's about to make a little play here."

Sure enough, Harvey began by saying. "Maggie, I just want to let you know I think you're a good, lovely person. I, I mean, you're lovely in every sense of the word." Maggie waited. She should have laughed, said "thank you," pecked him on the cheek and shoved him out the door with a "See you next Thursday." But she kind of wanted him to go a step further.

Harvey came right out with it. "Our little hugs have meant a lot to me. You can imagine, a man in my..." Maggie let him take her hands in his. She felt Harvey's sadness, and wanted just to give him a big maternal hug, bring a smile to his face. Harvey said, "Don't get me wrong, Maggie, but I'd love to give you just a little kiss. Not just on your cheeks, I mean."

Maggie was surprised at how fast her heart was beating. She wanted to sound light, as if everything was under control, but her voice was just a bit thin and raspy. She said, "Just a little one?"

"Yeah. I mean, I've just really enjoyed hanging out with you."

She tried to process what he was trying to say, but it was hard for her to think. He was so close to her. Normally, she'd have taken a step back, but the closeness had a feeling of daring, of a delicious naughtiness. Next, she felt Harvey's hands on her lower back, making soft circles, preparing to bring her even closer to him in their familiar hug. Maggie suddenly had a forbidden thought - she wanted him to reach higher, to stroke where her bra strap would be - and she almost fainted on the spot.

She recovered herself, and said, "OK, you can make it a real kiss. A little kiss... right here." She smiled, and offered her lips. Again, she almost swooned as his lips pressed into hers. He did nothing aggressively, or greedily - no tongue, no biting - just a lovely loving kiss. At the end of it, he gave her a loud smack, laughed, and said "Thanks kid. That really hit the spot." Just before he left, he gave her another tight hug. She could swear she felt a bulge, but he turned to walk out the door before she could tell for sure.

Afterwards - after she practically attacked Peter the minute he walked through the front door - she told him what happened. When the storm was over, they ordered in a pizza, and lazily watched some TV. Just as she was falling asleep, Peter said, "Maggie? Call me crazy, but I really want to know. I want to know if Harvey is really brave enough to make a... I don't know how to put this, exactly. I mean, to make a real play for you."

"Where you going with this?" Maggie asked. A year ago, she would have slapped Peter on the arm, or laughed at him, or just ignored him. Now, she wanted him to suggest things, but she didn't want to make it too obvious. It was hard to be clear. Some other part of her was running her brain. She knew she could control it, but she wanted to play. It was like she wanted to walk the tightrope, but to keep a tight grip on the balancing pole. She remembered a porno Peter wanted her to watch with him, one where a man's wife started dancing in front of her husband and a bunch of his poker buddies. She remembered thinking how silly it was. It was slightly erotic, but mostly just illogical and boring. Right now, she was thinking, "I'd love to watch that porno with Peter. I'd get horny with him. I think I'd go wild!"

Her next thought hit her like sheet lightning. Now she understood how sane people could have those crazy fantasies. She thought, "I would like... I'd really kind of like to strip in front of a stranger." Then she went a step further, thinking to herself, "I might even like it if... I might like to strip off in front of... Harvey Johnson." She rolled over to grab Peter's manhood, and said, "What's your crazy idea this time?"

Peter, enjoying this little development, thought hard. "Why don't you take it half a tiny step further?" Maggie was squeezing Peter's cock back to full mast. He said, "If he offers to kiss you again, why don't you press against him, a little bit. Or tell him his kiss was very nice, give a second one for a reward. Or..." Peter had to stop - Maggie's lips were all over his, fiercely. She hiked her nightie up, and she was on top of him. He surprised himself, feeling another orgasm building such a short time after the last one, and Maggie surprised him even more when she started coming just before he did, hard and fast, just like a teenage kid.

*****

On Wednesday afternoon, Peter came home early. He was in a rush, because he had to be at the airport in less than an hour. A muffin chain HQ in Kansas had lost most of its data in a freak power outage, and they'd decided to use StoreRestore as their new data back-up system. It was an honor for Peter to be chosen as team leader on this one, and he'd be gone for nine days, arriving home the following Friday evening.

Maggie surprised him by saying, "You keep your sexy hands off of those California girls, you hear?"

All he could say was, "Trust me. I'll be way too busy to even think about that kind of stuff." As an afterthought, he said, "I'll call every night just before bedtime. If you're out with friends or anything, don't worry about it. I'll leave a message."

*****

Thursday, early afternoon, Maggie looked through the side-window of her second-floor study, and saw Harvey walk out with a hand spade. My word, she thought, he's a handsome fellow. He was wearing shorts and a tight tee, showing off his muscular legs and arms. He had short silver-blond hair, in the kind of cut that's simple but obviously cost a lot.

It was a bit earlier than their usual work time, but she was eager to get out there. She wondered what to wear. The white tee? The crop top? Something new? She decided not to risk anything, and to wear a crop top, one that was similar to the one she wore before, but a bit tighter, showing a bit more tummy. She put on a pair of tan khaki shorts that hugged her butt, and then the old sneakers, the ones she used for gardening. She usually wore athletic ankle socks with that, but today she left them off.

She was feeling, in a word, very frisky. She'd last made love with Peter a few nights ago, and she was torn between two feelings. On the one hand, she wanted everything to be very conservative today, because Peter was out of town, and if anything happened she wouldn't be able to share it with him, in person, until days later. On the other hand, she didn't want to give up the excitement of her little encounters with Harvey. She liked the little play they were writing together. This was all so new to her. And Peter clearly liked the way she was flirting, although she knew he didn't think the flirting would ever go past a certain stage.

Then again, Peter was gone, and Maggie felt a strange kind of freedom. She also felt a bit alone, and thought about asking Harvey over for dinner one of these nights. Peter, she was sure, would be happy to hear that. She knew that he wanted her to play with fire a bit more, and he had for a long time now wanted her to me more... Well, more sexual was probably the best way to put it.

Suddenly, Maggie felt a throbbing ache in her breasts, as if they'd grown heavier. It was a strange kind of ache, which she felt she could cure either by going nude or by doing the opposite, like covering herself with her tightest sports bra. She thought she'd better put on that tight bra, and walked to the dresser drawer. She reached behind her, undid the snaps, and fed the straps down her arms and out of the holes of her crop top. That felt sssso good, sssso right. She stroked herself, pinching at her aching nipples. She thought, "Oh what the heck. It feels good, and Pete will be happy to know I did this... and Harvey might catch a peek and get his little thrill for the day.

As she walked onto Harvey's lawn, he looked up from the patch of devil's paintbrush he'd just dug up, a few drops of sweat beneath his temples. He said, "Hey, how you doing, beautiful?" Maggie laughed, and dropped in beside him. Harvey found it a bit hard to breathe. He couldn't be sure, because he had kept his eyes trained on Maggie's face, but it looked as if she wasn't wearing a bra. As soon as he had a chance to check her out properly, he practically had a heart attack. She wasn't just braless, but he could see her unusually long and hard nipples stretching against the thin cotton of her top.

They worked and chatted for about 10 minutes, when Harvey laughed quietly to himself. He'd been hoping since he got up this morning that he'd have a change to put some sunblock on his gardening partner, but her choice of clothing had fogged his brain. Out loud, he asked, "You remember to put some sunblock on? It's a scorcher."

Maggie said, "No, I should have thought about it. I'll get some." She was relieved, thinking he'd never ask. Yes, of course, she could have put some on before she came over, but she preferred pretending to be forgetful. She loved the suspense, the tease, the idea that Harvey might take a little risk.

"No no, it's okay," he said. "I've got some just over there." Harvey walked to the picnic table by the back porch, and Maggie made sure her hands looked dirty, scuffing them with a couple of dirty roots. As he walked back, Maggie tried hard to feel normal, to act normal, but she was trembling. Would Harvey offer to do her? That is, to do a little bit more than her lower back?

Harvey too was hoping she'd let him take care of her. "Aha - it looks as if my hands are a heck of a lot cleaner than yours." He let her understand the implication, without spelling it out. He said, "Hold still for a second." He liked the look of this sleek panther of a woman kneeling doggy style, and wondered if she even knew what "doggy style" meant, or if she'd ever done it that way. She was so sexy, but so innocent. So shy, but so eager, somehow. He wanted her, but he knew he'd probably never really get there. It was just a dream, but it was a lot of fun to play around with it.

He took a big glob of sunscreen, and began feathering it into her lower back, then down along the waist of her shorts, so tantalizingly close to the cleft of that perfect muscular ass. He feathered some onto her side, just below her rib, and he noticed again that she wasn't wearing her bra. Was she sending a signal? Or was she as innocent as he thought she was? The angle of the sightline was so tantalizingly close to her perfect nakedness, his fingertips so close to those firm sexy globes and rock hard nipples.

Maggie giggled as Harvey pressed his fingers into her midriff, "Hey, I'm ticklish there." Harvey laughed too, and said, "No problem." His hands ran immediately a few inches under her top, to just a couple of inches below where her bra strap would be, and he thought for a second he'd almost prefer she wore a bra, so that if he ever did get to second base with her, he would have the pleasure of unveiling her breasts.

Since he'd first met her, he found it hard to keep his attraction to himself. It embarrassed him, at this age, to be so interested, in that way, especially when he knew that she married, and that she was lovely, intelligent person, someone he could easily be proud to know as any human being, as a neighbour... But then his mind would keep going lower, and he'd be thinking, "To know her... as a friend... as a really good friend... as a lover..." He knew full well that Maggie had told her husband about their work on the lawn, and about their little get-togethers afterwards. If Maggie and Peter wanted to stop this little weed from growing in their moral garden, he figured, they could stop it any time.

He paused, thinking if the next step would be going too far. He must have heard Maggie thinking out loud, though, because he decided to risk it, putting some more of the white glop onto his hands, and then smearing it into her calves. He said, "Should have thought of this the other day. You're just as likely to get burned here."

Maggie was thinking, she was feeling... it was a mess of feelings: "Oh, please, just a little bit longer. I know this is wrong. I know he should stop there, but... yes!" Harvey had spread the block to the sensitive spot on the back of her knees. She was usually ticklish there, but now it was simply exciting, electric. And then, yes! He ran some up the back of her thighs, slowly, nicely, so sexy. He said, "Your skin is so perfect... I mean, it's so perfectly delicate. You've got to take care of it."

Then it was back to business. As they continued to move around the lawn, Maggie figured she'd had her thrill for the day. She was still trembling 20 minutes later, even though she felt she was moving and sounding normal. After a while, though, she wanted to go a bit further. She knew that whatever she did, obviously, she'd be able to keep control when it counted. She was hoping Harvey would try to lean into her when they had their beer afterwards. Or maybe he'd try to give her a hard squeeze in those powerful arms, and a real man's sexy kiss. She'd give in for a second, then laugh, and tell him he was very naughty. Then she'd skip her way home.

Several times, when Harvey was more or less facing toward her, she turned away from him, so that he could look freely under the crop top. At least part of the underside of her breasts would show through. Just thinking about his hot eyes on her made her nipples painfully hard. The cotton top would rub against them, and all she could think about was how good she'd feel when she could pull this awfully tight thing off of her body, and take a hot shower, gloriously naked, free. She had a naughty thought: "Wouldn't Harvey love to be in that shower with her?" And then she had another very naughty thought, "Wouldn't Peter love to see me in the shower - with Harvey?!" She smiled to herself, thinking how crazy this kind of stuff could get. It's too bad Harvey was away. He'd be getting some good loving tonight.

They heard a rumble of thunder off in the distance. Harvey stood up, and said, "Looks like a storm's headed right at us."

Maggie said, "Sooner? Later?"

"I'd guess later than sooner. We're about done for the day anyway, wouldn't you say?"

"Sure. I'll just finish this patch, and then let's call it quits."

"I'll get some coffee started in a couple of minutes. Or would you rather have something a bit colder?"

"A beer would be perfect." She wanted to say, "Something tall and cool and hard," and then thought, "Where did THAT come from?"

The wind picked up suddenly, and in less than a minute, the sky darkened, the air grew cool. Black clouds flashed with light, and then forks of lightning started hitting everywhere. The cold rain came down in sheets, in blankets. Harvey took hold of Maggie's arm, and they ran to the back entrance, the one into the laundry room. They were both soaked, head to foot. Harvey saw Maggie trembling, and reached out for her. She moved into his protective arms, and he held her tight, curling both hands on the lower bare skin of her sleek, perfect and very wet back.

Maggie felt like fainting. This was so bad, but so pleasurable. Peter would be thrilled to know about this, as innocent as it seemed. She could feel her rigid nipples pressing like fingertips into Harvey's chest. They felt twice as long and painfully hard as they ever had before. She knew Harvey could feel them. Would she tell Peter about that? Would she tell him that she secretly wanted Harvey to run his hands up to them, to maul her, to relieve her, to milk them. She knew it wouldn't happen of course, but she wanted Harvey to help her out here, to urn this pleasurable pain into some kind of release.

She felt him bulge down below. Suddenly, she realized she liked when that happened. She liked knowing that Harvey couldn't control it, that his body was betraying his usual smooth control. She pressed into him, pretending that she was still cold, and just wanted a big hug.

When Harvey felt Maggie press her navel into his thickening cock, he had to suppress a groan. Can she really be that innocent? Doesn't she know I'd like to take her some day, or die trying? He took a risk, and began rubbing Maggie's unbelievably sexy back. He ran his hands under her sopping wet crop top from the nape of her neck down to the top of her perfect ass.

Minutes later - heavenly minutes - Maggie heard Harvey saying something. She didn't want to talk; she wanted the hug to last for another minute, three minutes, five. "I'm going to dry you," Harvey said. "I don't want you catching your death of cold. Maggie was thinking, "O my word, yes. Dry me! But, what does he mean? How?"

Harvey said, with a calm sexy authority. "Lift your arms up."

This was a moment of truth. Maggie hesitated. She didn't want to think where this was leading. She wanted to follow Harvey's lead, though she didn't want to move her hands off his muscular back. She looked forward, her eyes level with the neck of his tee, and watched him whisk his own soaking shirt off. So now she was looking at his naked chest, muscular, nicely toned, a fine light dusting of masculine-sexy blond hair curling out.

She slowly raised her hands, and tried to think of something light to say. "Am I under arrest, officer?" Harvey smiled, and said, gruffly, "That depends on what I discover on your person. First, though, I'm going to take this" - he slowly lifted her crop top, with an almost aching deliberateness, making it clear that this was pleasure more than business - "and hang it up on that rack over there." She knew she should say no. She got the first letter onto her tongue when she felt the wet cloth rasp lightly over the sensitive skin of her breasts, and over the very sensitive buds.

Maggie felt faint, she felt ready to keel over. This was so bad. She wanted Harvey to see her, admire her, reach with his hands to her. At the same time she wanted to hide herself, to cover up, especially her breasts. Her nipples were painfully hard, though, and wanted to be seen and touched. They were practically shouting that they had a mind of their own and wanted to be very bad. Maggie moved closer to Harvey, hoping to hide her nakedness against his naked manly chest.

Harvey had a thick towel in his hand, and began rubbing the back of her neck with it, then her back, and her sides. After a minute or two, he said, "Step back a bit, Maggie." She knew why. He was going to dry her front. He was going to rub that towel on her chest, on her ribs, on her belly, and finally - yes! - on her breast and nipples. She thought, "I'll stop this soon. Right now, though, just this minute, it feels too good." At the same time, she felt a keen disappointment. If Harvey was going to touch her aching breasts, he should be touching them with his hands, not with this thick towel. Oh, the towel felt nice - Harvey obviously was getting every last drop of moisture off. Oh, he was a dirty old man - such a delightfully naughty man, squeezing, weighing, pinching her through the thick cloth.

Maggie surprised herself by saying, "Your turn." Her brain was being hijacked by the daydream. She wasn't really thinking about what she was saying. She was seeing images, and feeling her ideas. The words were like the drumbeats of her feelings. She took the towel out of Harvey's hands, and began with his chest. She took care of every square inch, and gave a bit more attention to his own nipples, as if she was echoing his movements over the most sensitive parts of her breasts, as if to tell him with her actions that she liked it.

She wanted to feel his naked chest on hers though, and so she moved the towel to his back. She started rubbing it slowly and carefully, and moved close enough so that her nipples were dancing lightly over his skin. Harvey's hands were lightly stroking her very dry back, as if to warm her, but in truth because he wanted to spend hours running his hands over her perfect nakedness. As she rubbed his back, he pressured her closer to him, so that now her breasts mashed into his ribs, and he could feel the hot throb of her hard, sensitive buds digging into him.

The dull heavy ache in her breasts was intolerable. She felt pleasure in them, but she knew they promised so much more. She knew she had to go at least one more little step, or, strangely, she'd feel cheated of something. She forced herself back from Harvey a few inches, suddenly, which left his hands at that magical place where her ribcage joined her breasts. If only he would move them there, just a little bit more to the aching softness.

Harvey wondered, again, if he was moving too fast. Was Maggie pulling away from him, saying this was going too far, or was this some kind of invitation? He took a risk, and began ever so slowly to circle his fingertips round the soft firm flesh at the side of Maggie's quivering breasts. She couldn't suppress a moan, a moan unmistakeably of frustrated pleasure. Harvey couldn't stop his own moan, but it was mostly the pain of a hard-on trying to burst through the zipper of his shorts. Maggie had already dried his back 10 times over, and now she dropped the towel, running her hands lightly up and down his sides. He moved one hand to cover her breast, drawing a gasp of surprise and pleasure from Maggie. She closed her eyes in pleasure, and at that moment Harvey popped the button of his shorts with his free hand and dropped the zipper. This let the rampant beast out of its denim cage, though it was still fighting with his boxers.

Maggie felt Harvey make his quick adjustment, but didn't know how far he'd actually gone. She wanted both his hands on her breasts, and that's exactly where he went. Ohhh, his palms now touched lightly on the full curves of her breasts. He was taking possession of them, slowly, surely, confidently. He seemed to know exactly what she liked, what her body wanted. He seemed to know how much her conscious mind wanted to say "stop" - and at every step to do just the right thing, jacking her up so that the next "stop line" was a bit closer to the hot zone. At each stage, he's say, "My god you're so fine"; "You're so beautiful" - "You're so sexy" - "You're so unbelievably sexy - you have to give me a kiss."

He said this just as he began a loving mauling of her nipples, something she'd been aching for since they'd been out on the lawn. Maggie didn't want him to let go just yet, and she wanted to kiss this unbelievably sexy guy. At the same time, she knew it was another giant step. She thought, "OK, this feels soooo very good... I'll say yes, but we've got to stop soon. I'm feeling too good... Pete would probably want me to stop right about now. Or... maybe he'd want me to go just a little bit further."

She heard Harvey say, "You're so fucking unbelievably sexy" just before he captured her mouth with his hot sexy lips. He started with lips, and just the tip of his tongue. Sweet, slow, swinging low, sweet Harvey. He shouldn't have used that word - fucking. If he'd said it a few days ago, he'd have gone way too far, and now she only let him say it because her aching nipples absolutely needed his loving roughness, because his kisses were so gentle, manly, gentle-manly, hard and soft, tongue tip to long full lashing tongue as if his mouth now was having sex with hers.

She felt as if sheet lightning was covering her body with every loving flick of his tongue or squeeze of his fingers. She felt forks of hot lightning shooting down into her crotch, flooding her there with a hot rain. She heard thunder crash right over top of the house, and thought how good the rain was for her garden. For her garden, and for Harvey's. And for the grass, for all growing things. She felt Harvey's impressively big hard-on press against her navel, and felt how wet her shorts were, how moist she was feeling underneath.

Then Harvey was saying, "We should hang these up too." He said it simply, matter of factly, with just a bit of an edge hidden in his command. He dropped one hand off her breast, and flipped the button at the side of her khakis. He dropped his other hand, and hooked the rim of her shorts with his thumb. Maggie thought No! Part of her was feeling, "No - don't push my shorts down." Another part was thinking, "No! - get your hands on my breasts again, where they felt so heavenly."

Then, as Maggie felt Harvey drag her shorts down to her hips with a sweet aching slowness, and then felt his hands stroke the hollows at the topside of her haunches, she discovered a new spell, a new magic. This was almost as nice as hands on her nipples. It was thrilling, daring, and still in bounds. She wanted him to keep doing what he was doing, maybe for half a minute, maybe just for another couple of minutes.

Harvey said, "I've got to dry my shorts too. Give me a hand? Then I'll get us a couple of robes."

Under the spell of his stroking hands, sending little forks of pleasure shooting from her quivering thighs to her fog-drenched brain, she pulled his shorts and boxers down a few inches. That's as far as she wanted to go, and then she knew she had to put on that terry-cloth robe, and slow everything down.

But she took the shorts down a bit farther than she meant to. Omigod - she could feel something hot and tubular and a little bit wet, probably from the rain. She could feel it pressing into her navel. She wanted to see it, but at the same time she wanted a place to hide. She could feel it pulse - the fat plum head of his hot throbbing cock was sending little electrical thrills to her moist skin. It felt so good... but NO - this had gone way too far! Peter would have been quite happy with what happened half an hour ago. Or, was that true? Just the other day, when they were screwing like wildcats, he was talking about this, about letting Harvey touch her here, or there, or.... Maggie moaned involuntarily as Harvey pushed her shorts down to mid-thigh.

For about the tenth time this afternoon, she wanted to faint. Lightning flashed outside, and the overhead lamp in the laundry room went dark. It flickered once or twice, and then went dead again. Thunder rattled the window panes, and rolled and rumbled ominously over the valley. Harvey recaptured her left breast again with his right hand, and that was just the perfect thing to do. He was still kissing her just so sexily and sweetly, and that was just the perfect thing to do. The fingertips of his other hand were lightly tracing circles on her naked butt... That was NOT the perfect thing to do. It was too far, too risky, too exciting, too sexy, and she thought for a second he was thinking about the size of her ass. Just then he said, "My god, Maggie. Every part of you is so... perfect. So unbelievably sexy."

Maggie flooded with pleasure at the compliment. She thought, just a little while longer. This was so wrong, but she was being loved, and Harvey's loving was just so right. She almost thought, "Just so fucking right", but she didn't want that word in her brain. Well, she did want that word, but she wanted it in her imagination, not here, now, in the flesh. Harvey was closing the distance between her wildest fantasy and the safe reality. She was pushing her thighs at Harvey. Omigod, she was telling Harvey what her body wanted. She had to control herself. Peter might be happy everything had come to this point - but no further!

She couldn't stop herself from pushing at Harvey, and she realized, now, that his shorts were all the way to his knees. He let them drop to his ankles. She was necking with a naked man! A beautiful sexy man who was loving her just right. The only other time in her life she'd been this horny was when Peter was spinning that fantasy about Harvey the other night. Maybe Peter wanted this. She wanted Peter to want it, she imagined him being worked up into a frenzy because she had come this far.

Harvey was saying, "You are so very beautiful. Your skin is so soft, so perfect. You are so unbelievably... fucking... sexy." There - he forced that word into her body. Her body was saying, "That's the perfect word, girl" - but her mind was saying, "blank." She knew it should be putting up an argument, but something was shutting it out. She knew she had to have some kind of release. She'd go further, probably, but not have sex. No penetration.

She let her shorts and panties drop to her ankles, and loved feeling Harvey's hot loving palm on her butt. So sexy, so horny-making. She forgot how sensitive she'd been when Peter touched her there for the very first time. Over the years, she got used to his touch... but now Harvey was driving her crazy. The only thing wilder than this would be if he....

Harvey reached both hands down to her haunches, and moved his mouth down to Maggie's throat. He was tempted to suck there, to leave a mark, to let Peter know his wife had let him come that far. One hand went back to her so very sensitive ass, and he moved the other to the inside of her thigh, just an inch or two below the most sensitive place of all. That was a shock. Again, Maggie thought "No - that's way too naughty", but at the same time, "No - put your hand on my breasts again!" For the briefest moment, she realized that an answer to her problem would be to have two pairs of hands. But, wait a minute - what was she thinking? She only wanted hands on her breasts, not... heavens! Not there...

Then Harvey stood a bit to the side, and dropped his lips to her chest. O my lord - his hot breath on her goose-bump-rippled breasts was so nice, so sexy. And now his lips enclosed her aching nipple, and she practically thundered with pleasure when he gave the sensitive flesh a lick of his hot tongue. When he began sucking her lightly there, and then a little harder - and oh, she wanted harder, harder - he slid his hands lightly to the core of her womanhood, lightly touching the soft pubic hair, so sensitive to a light stroke...

Then he began a lovely light rhythm, fingers whispering to the desire flooding along the edges of her labia, then a light loving possessive touch of the throbbing round tip under the swollen red hood, the most sensitive flesh of all.

In a fever now, she reached for his own butt, trying to pull him to her, but he wanted her nipples in his mouth... he couldn't stretch full against her. But that's what she wanted - her body wanted to be straight up against his. She wanted to have two bodies, either two Harveys, or two bodies of her own. She shocked herself, thinking this, and shocked herself even more when she awkwardly and suddenly grabbed for his unbelievably big cock. It had to be twice the size of Peter's, though a small soft voice told her she was magnifying everything because her own body was so swollen with desire. She felt as if her whole body was expanding - it was gathering into a major storm, into thunder and lightning.

Harvey suddenly cupped his hands under her so sensitive cheeks, and pulled her up against him, spreading her legs to either side, asking her without words to wrap her legs around his waist. He reached between their navels, stroking her lovely hot and wet vulva, and positioned his manhood at the entrance to her quivering womanhood.

Maggie now said, "No! We're going too far!" Harvey kept stroking her, and felt her hips rock with his touch. He knew she was at war with herself, and touched the right corner of his mouth to the left corner of hers, eventually working their lips into a full contact tongue locking kiss. Maggie kept pushing her untouched breasts into the fine tickling hair of Harvey's muscled chest, and involuntarily rocked her hips forward with the electric rolling pleasure of his stroking hand. He slipped a couple of fingers into her on every second stroke, caressing like an electric eel the sensitive spot just beneath her clit, at the back of her pelvic bone. Maggie realized he had already entered her inner sanctum, and that it was a form of possession. Would it really matter if his penis touched there? Just inside, just on the most sensitive part, just once or twice... for a very short time. Harvey was stroking his penis tip against her pulsing clitoris, and she was going wild. Maybe, she thought, it wouldn't be so scary if she let him stroke into her... just a little, a dangerous little bit.

Ohhh, that was so fine. Again, again. Ohhh, just a little deeper - that's so good too. Awhhh, I'm almost there, Harvey! Yes - it's all good. Push into me. Push it. Drive it into me!

Maggie felt she was going mad. The aching fullness was so good, Harvey's big cock was touching all of her, and when he pulled back she tried to squeeze him, to stop him from leaving. In minutes, though, she learned how pleasurable it could be when he pulled almost all the way out, as if he was going to push out, to abandon her, because soon after he came rushing back, rocketing, pounding in like a tidal wave. Then almost completely out again, and here comes the hard thunder again, another perfect big rush of pure pleasure.

Then... Maggie felt Harvey pause right after he slammed in; felt his cock expand, and knew what was about to happen. Yes! She surprised herself to think how completely her body and mind were screaming "Yes!" This is exactly what she wanted to happen now. Mind and body, both wanted the freedom of... Ohh! Here it is! She started bucking wildly, madly. This was ecstasy - she was totally outside of herself, while Harvey starting splashing hot thick rain into her wonderfully sensitive womanhood.

The next surprise was that her orgasm came with an extended aftershock, a kind of rocking implosion as she felt Harvey continue to push the last of his pleasure as deeply into her as he could. It was as if she was feeling the backwash of the tidal wave, of the primal ecstasy, and now she felt totally and utterly inside of herself, still quivering with little flutters of ecstasy.