It was my first day back to school after spending a week home from my suspension, or should I say fucking my Dad’s wife, Marie, as I refer to her, aka my step-mom. The weather was nice, other than a few clouds, so I decided to walk. As I hurried along the sidewalk towards school, my backpack slung over one shoulder. Lost in thought about the upcoming exams, I nearly bumped into someone as I turned the corner.

“Ooops… my bad!” I quickly apologized, glancing up to see it was Mrs. Bardeaux, my next-door neighbor. She had just finished her morning jog, looking great as always in her matching green yoga pants and sports bra, her hair still damp. Out of respect, I bowed my head in greeting.

"Good morning, Mrs. Bardeaux!" I mumbled under my breath.

Mrs. Bardeaux placed her hand on my chest and stopped me in my tracks. I lifted my head to see what she wanted.

"I know what you've been up to," she said sternly, brown eyes flashing.

That caught my attention, and I felt a jolt of fear, wondering what she was talking about. Did she catch me looking at her through the windows? I couldn't help myself - her bedroom was on the same side as mine, and she rarely closed her curtains.

One memorable night, I'd been sitting in my darkened room when she emerged from the bathroom wrapped in only a towel. She dropped it and was prancing around naked for a bit before slipping on a see-through nightgown. The sight was unforgettable and seared into my memory.

"You and your step-mom," Mrs. Bardeaux continued, her voice low and threatening. That really got my full attention now. Oh shit, not this. Did she witness me and Marie fooling around when we thought we were alone? Fuck, I knew Marie's loud moans would get us caught eventually.

"If you don't want your dad to find out, you'll have to buy my silence," Mrs. Bardeaux warned, her hand still on my chest. I gulped, my mind racing.

"What do you want?" I asked nervously, heart pounding.

She slid her hand down my chest to cup the bulge in my pants. "You know what I want," she purred, squeezing me through my jeans.

"I'm on my way to school," I tried to protest.

"I suggest you turn back around and follow me to my house." Her voice left no room for argument.

In a daze, I turned on my heel and followed the sway of Mrs. Bardeaux's hips back to her place. The house was empty. She led me to the bedroom, shutting and locking the door behind us with a click.

"I've been watching you watch me," she said, turning to face me with a seductive smile. "I think it's time for a taste."

Heart pounding, I let her guide me onto the bed. What followed was a blur of warm skin, scents of sex in the air, and sweat, gasps, and groans. It wasn't the most skilled encounter, but it was satisfying a long-held fantasy. Mrs. Bardeaux rode me hard, using me for her pleasure, demanding more. I was more than happy to oblige. Afterwards, we lay tangled in the sheets, both panting.

"This will be our little secret," she said, tracing a finger down my sweat-slick chest. "I expect you to come whenever I call. Understood?" I nodded mutely, still reeling. I snuck back out a while later and made it to school just before the final bell. But my mind kept drifting back to those few illicit hours with my curvy neighbor.

It wasn't long before I received a text from Mrs. Bardeaux. "Come over; I need your help with something," it read. Heart leaping, I got dressed and hurried to her house. Mrs. Bardeaux greeted me at the door in just a tiny green sweater - nothing else.

"Have you ever gone down on a woman before?" she asked, eyeing me over her shoulder as she sashayed to the dining room. I swallowed hard at the glorious sight of her bare backside.

"It's one of my favorite things to do," I answered confidently, recalling the many times I'd pleasured my girlfriend that way.

Ever since Mrs. Lee taught me how to eat pussy properly, it's been my go-to move now to get my girl and the other women going. They love it.

Mrs. Bardeaux perched on a stool facing away from me. Her round ass looked like a giant chocolate cake. My cock instantly hardened at the sight.

"Good. Because I need a good tongue-lashing, followed by a good pounding," she said, her voice dripping with lust. “Do you think you can handle that?" looking at me with a mix of lust and challenge.

"Where is Mr. Bardeaux?" I asked, not wanting to get caught. Again.

"My husband is traveling,” she responded. Her husband was a salesman and traveled a lot, leaving her alone all the time.

“We have the whole house and all day to ourselves.” She bent over, jutting her perfect ass out towards me. "If you know what I mean." Her voice was low and seductive.

I couldn't resist - I knelt behind her, burying my face between her cheeks. She gasped and writhed as I ate her out, feasting on her holes until she came with a loud moan, her pussy gushing on my tongue.

Before she could recover, I stood up, lining my hard cock at her dripping entrance, and sheathed myself inside her tight heat with one hard thrust. She gasped at the sudden intrusion. I reached around to rub her clit as I started pounding into her from behind.

We moved around the house, fucking in every room. The living room couch, the dining table, the kitchen counter, the guest bed, and their marital bedroom. Her body glistened with sweat. My cock was in pussy heaven.

Mrs. Bardeaux was a woman who knew what she wanted and wasn't afraid to ask for it. She only likes vaginal sex, and unlike any other woman I've been with, she always tells me to pull out before I cum. She never lets me finish inside her, which is a shame because her pussy was tighter than any girl my own age, milking my cock with every thrust.

I licked my thumb, brought it to her puckered asshole, and shoved it in, fucking both her holes with my cock and thumb. She moaned in pleasure but tried to pull my hand away, but I grabbed her wrist, pinning her arm behind her back, and spanked her as I pounded into her harder. She came, moaning and wailing her head as she orgasmed on my cock.

"Yeah? You like that?" I growled, not slowing my relentless pace. Her ass was bouncing and jiggling on my cock with each slam of my hips. And I loved it. I slapped her other cheek, and she groaned.

"Yes, just like that," she moaned. "Harder."

She started backing into me to meet my thrusts, taking me to the hilt; my balls slapping against her clit, thumb knuckles deep in her asshole, tongue deep in her mouth, all in one day. I grabbed her hips, slamming into her, grunting with the effort. Her pussy squeezed me like a vice.

I could feel my orgasm building but knew I couldn't cum inside her. With a groan, I yanked my cock out and came all over her back, painting her dark skin with ropes of my white cream.

We collapsed on the bed, spent. I didn't know if I would be back again, but I knew this wouldn't be the last time I sampled the forbidden fruit next door.

"Not bad," Mrs. Bardeaux said, breathing hard. "You've got potential. I'll call you again soon."

I stumbled home in a sex-drunk haze, my teenage mind blown. And call again she did. Our afternoons of secret sexcapades became a regular thing. Mrs. Bardeaux was a demanding lover, taking what she wanted from my willing body.

That's how it was for months - our illicit liaisons snuck whenever her husband was away on business trips. The sex was incredible, but the thrill of sneaking around, always looking over our shoulders, made it even better.