="Deck"( FF mast exh ds )


About four months ago new neighbours moved in next door.  When they 
first arrived, I thought they were a middle-aged couple with a 
teenage daughter.  After introducing myself, and my husband, I found 
out that Jack and Sylvia had no children.  The teenager I'd seen was 
actually their live-in maid, Diana.

Well, the two of them weren't home much, and when they were, they 
seemed a little distant, so we didn't really become close friends 
or anything like that.  We did nod to each other in passing, if only 
to acknowledge each other's existence.

They quickly faded into the background.

One day, early in the summer, a couple of months after they had 
moved in, I saw Diana sunning herself on their deck.  I never 
noticed anything unusual, so I just spread on my sunscreen, lay on 
my new lounger, and started in on my summer tan.  It was the first 
nice, sunny day of the year.

One thing I should say right now is that both our back decks are 
completely private, except from each other.  Somehow the trees, 
houses, and specific designs had melded in such a way that, while 
nobody else could see anything, it would have been difficult and 
expensive to complete our privacy.  We had never seen the need.  
So, I could see her, she could see me, but the rest of the world 
was oblivious.

When I got up to fix dinner, she was gone.

The following day I was out shopping.  The day after, it rained.  
The next day turned out sunny and hot, so I slipped into my nice 
new yellow micro bikini and went to get tanned.  My suit wasn't 
something I'd ever wear in public.  All it had were two tiny 
triangles covering my nipples and a far from adequate thong for a 
bottom.  It was perfect for the back deck.  I'd had to shave and 
trim myself almost completely bare to keep things neat.

Diana was out there, sunning herself again, reading some sort of 
magazine.  She waved, so I waved back.  I felt a little 
self-conscious out there, wearing that near nothing, but figured 
that since it was just their housekeeper, things would be okay.  I 
slathered on the sunscreen and settled down to bake.

Three quarters of an hour later I glanced over at their place.  The 
girl was still there, lying on her stomach, still reading that 
magazine.  Something caught me as odd, so I looked again.  I guess 
she had undone the straps to her top, because I couldn't see them.  
Something still seemed odd, so I took a closer look.  Then I looked 
again, red from embarrassment.  She was playing with herself!  There 
was no doubt about it!  I could see her crotch clearly, and saw 
rapid movement under her suit.

I rushed into my kitchen and sat down to try and recover my 
composure.  I was hot, flushed, and breathing hard.  That was the 
lewdest display I'd ever seen!  Masturbating herself right out there 
in the open, in the sunshine!  My God!  Her image stayed with me 
for the rest of the day.  My husband never knew what hit him.  The 
attack was sudden, unexpected, and fierce.  He was naked, on the 
floor, with me riding him, before he'd even had a chance to say 
hello.  

Later, when he asked what had gotten into me, all I told him was 
that I'd seen something exciting.  He didn't pry any further.  He 
also went to sleep with a big smile on his face.

The next day, despite the fact that it was again perfect, I stayed 
indoors.  Memories and imagination kept me hot and wet all day.  
Even after masturbating three times, I still jumped Phil when he 
got home.

Saturday and Sunday we were busy.

Monday, I couldn't help myself.  I was out there early, oiled down, 
armed with sunglasses and a book, waiting.

She showed up around two in a black micro thong bikini.  It was 
considerably smaller than the one she had been wearing.  We waved 
to each other, and I pretended to read.

For the first while, she lay on her back, flipping through her 
magazine, idly running the fingers of her free hand across her 
stomach, her neck, her hips, and just about anywhere else bare skin 
showed.  Then she rolled over and undid the straps of her top.  For 
a while nothing happened, but then I noticed one arm slowly slipping 
underneath her body.  A few minutes later I saw the telltale 
movements under the fabric in her crotch.  She was doing it again!

It was so hot, I almost exploded!  My nipples were hard, my breasts 
were swollen, my clit felt like it was on fire, and I was quite 
literally panting.  I watched her for a while, feeling the moisture 
collecting between my legs, soaking through my suit, then dripping 
down off my bottom.  

She turned over!  There she was, topless, running one hand over her 
breasts, tweaking her nipples, keeping the other inside her suit 
bottom, bouncing it in and out as fast as her hand could move.

It took me several seconds to recover, and when I did, I ran into 
the house.  I never made it to the bedroom, or the living room, or 
the bathroom.  Just inside the door I fell down, jammed both hands 
into my crotch, and jerked myself off to a fantastic orgasm.  It 
was huge!  Even with that, I couldn't stop.  I came again, and 
then again, each one being better than the last.

In my minds eye I could see every movement of her fingers, every 
slight twitch of her thighs and stomach, every bead of sweat, and 
every ripple running across her breasts.  Her moans were for my 
ears only, her display strictly for my arousal.

I barely managed to pull myself together in time to get supper 
started.

Phil got jumped again.

Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, it rained.

Friday started out cloudy, but quickly cleared up and let the sun 
shine through.  I was out there early again, breathing heavily in my 
anticipation.  Around two, she came out.  Her breasts were already 
bare!  She hadn't even bothered putting her top on!  She waved, and 
I waved back, as nonchalantly as I could manage.  I was hot and 
dripping by the time she finished putting on her sunscreen.  

"Do it!" I yelled in my mind, impatiently waiting for her to 
get busy.  It was madness, I know, but I couldn't help myself.  I 
wanted to see that young girl do herself in the worst way.

I watched her free hand, the one not holding the magazine, wander 
to and fro over her near-nude body.  Every time it ventured near 
her groin, I shuddered in anticipation.

Then she put her hand flat on her stomach and slid her finger tips 
under the fabric.  "Yes!" I silently cried.  "No!" I quietly 
shouted a few seconds later, as her fingers came back out.  Her hand 
drifted around again for a few more minutes, then the finger tips 
slid down inside again, a little deeper.

My gaze was riveted on her crotch, watching the small circular 
motions under her suit.  I never noticed her put down the magazine, 
never noticed her starting to play with her breasts.  I suddenly 
came to when her hand stopped, pulled out, and pointed at me.  I 
jumped half way out of my skin!  My glasses!  My sun glasses!  I 
was wearing them!  There was no way she could see I was watching!  
I let loose with a great sigh of relief.

Diana was still motioning at me.  Pretending to just notice, I 
pushed up my glasses and looked over at her.  She smiled, then made 
a motion I didn't recognize.  When I didn't do anything, she 
frowned, pointed at me, then repeated the motion.

She wanted me to take my top off!  I just stared at her in 
disbelief.  A few seconds later, I was panting again as she slid 
her hand into her crotch.  The movements were unmistakable.  Then 
she stopped, and repeated that motion again.  When I still didn't 
move, she shrugged her shoulders and stood up.

She was going to stop, to go inside, to leave me high and dry!

Common sense and propriety went out the window.  I took off my top.  
The sunshine felt strange on my bare nipples, but somehow it also 
felt very erotic.  The slight breezes caused my nipples to harden 
into rock-hard little points.  By then I was almost whimpering.  

She lay back and started in on herself right away.  Her hand was 
flying, her stomach hard and knotted, and her neck tense.  She was 
biting her lower lip and rolling her head back and forth.  I could 
see she was wanting to climax, but something was holding her back.

With her free hand, she pointed at me, then she slid it into her 
panties.  Her eyes were glued to my crotch.  She repeated the 
gesture.  My God!  She wanted me to do myself at the same time!  
I couldn't possibly do that!

Once more she repeated her motions.  I was frozen, half way between 
mindless arousal and utter mortification.

I did nothing, so she stopped again, her face a mask of ecstasy/
agony.  With obvious effort, she pulled her hand out of her crotch, 
and bent over in preparation for getting up.

Without meaning to, and without any conscious thought, my right hand 
drifted over and landed on my stomach, just below my navel.  She 
stopped, watching me intently.  My attention was split between her 
and my hand.  It began a circular motion, drifting down towards my 
crotch.  Right then and there I disowned that hand.  What it did 
from that point on had nothing to do with me!

Diana leaned back in her chair.  My fingertips brushed my pubic 
hair under my suit.  She bit her lower lip and threw her head back.  
My fingers found a hot, wet, slippery spot, and started rolling 
around in joy.  Her hand disappeared under her suit and resumed its 
dance.  She began to gyrate wildly, the undulations starting at her 
hips and moving outwards.  I exploded.  My back arched, my head 
flopped around, my legs kicked out.  I couldn't breathe for a 
moment.  The world stopped, turned inside out, then started again.

I was gasping, but that traitorous hand of mine never stopped.  
Neither did Diana.  They sent me into orbit, sent me flying so high 
and hard I couldn't even see the ground.

Utterly exhausted, utterly spent, I collapsed into my recliner.  
Diana was nowhere to be seen.  Finally feeling my embarrassment, 
I grabbed my top and ran into the house.  It took me a while to 
recover enough for a shower.  Then I had dinner to prepare.

Phil was late coming home that night.  I barely noticed.


Monday we did it again.  It was even wilder!  Dinner was late.  
If Phil noticed, he didn't say anything.  He seemed rather quiet 
and distracted.

Tuesday she did something that shocked me.  Just as we were letting 
loose, she stood up and took off her bottom.  She was naked!  Then 
she motioned for me to take mine off too!  That was too much.  I 
could never go naked out doors, even on our private deck.  Then, 
to my utter shock, my left hand joined my right in its conspiracy.  
With me watching in wide-eyed amazement, they pulled off my suit.  
There she was, naked as anything, sitting there frigging herself 
off, watching me as I sat there, naked as anything, frigging myself 
off.  I couldn't believe I was doing such a thing!  I came, and 
came, and came, and couldn't seem to stop.

Phil ordered Chinese, when he finally showed up.  I went to bed 
early.  I was exhausted.  Phil never said anything, and I was 
feeling far too guilty and embarrassed about what I had done to 
ask him about his tardiness.

Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday were fantastic.  Phil brought home 
chicken one night, pizza the next, and took me out Friday.  He was 
late every night.  I was too tired to worry much.

Monday she kept her bottom on, but still had me strip.  By then, I 
had seen enough for my imagination to fill in the details.

Tuesday was the same.

Wednesday, she kept her top on as well.

Friday, all she did was rub herself on the outside of her suit.  
I still exploded several times.

Phil was getting later each night.

Saturday I attacked him in the morning.  There was no letup.  
Sometime in the late afternoon he escaped, so I had to carry on by 
myself.  He came back very late on Sunday.  By then I had exhausted 
myself, so he was safe.

Monday, it rained.  At two o'clock there was a knock on the door.  
It was Diana!  She walked me back into my living room, lay me down 
on the carpet, and motioned for me to start doing myself!  She sat 
on the couch, staring at me expectantly.  I didn't know what to do.  
I'd gotten used to doing it outside, safe on the deck, with her 
watching, but now she was in my house, sitting not more than five 
feet away!  My traitorous hands did their work.  I watched with 
horrified fascination as they removed my blouse, my skirt, my 
slippers, my bra, and my panties.  Then they got me heated up.  I 
exploded hard several times before noticing that she'd left.  That 
slowed me down a bit, but I still climaxed three or four more times 
before Phil got home.

He was late again, and had brought dinner home.  Mexican.  There 
was no mention of him finding me naked on the living room floor, 
my clothes strewn about, three fingers buried in my crotch, 
panting and straining for my next release.  I never bothered 
getting dressed again that evening.

Tuesday she was fully dressed, sitting in her chair, using 
binoculars.  When I just stood there staring at her, she motioned 
for me to get undressed and get busy.  So I did.  Two hours later, 
when I finally collapsed in utter exhaustion, she stood up, waved, 
and went inside.  I lay there, naked in the sunshine, for another 
half hour before I could move.

Wednesday, she had company.  A man.  When she motioned for me to 
get busy, I went inside.  No way!  Ten minutes later there was a 
knock on my door.  Diana again!  She was carrying some sort of thin, 
leather-wrapped stick with her.  I was marched out onto the deck 
wearing nothing but my bikini and my wrap.  She motioned for me to 
undress.  I just stood there, frozen.

She hit me with that stick!  Right on my bottom!  It hurt!  A lot!  
Again she motioned for me to get undressed.  My hands were hanging 
onto my lower cheeks for their protection.  Diana pulled them away, 
then hit me again.  Then twice more.  I was in shock!

When she finally motioned for me to get undressed again, I did.  She 
then sat me down on the recliner, pushed me back, and guided my 
hands for a while.  I got hot, and those traitors started moving on 
their own.  The guy was staring at me through his binoculars!  A 
few minutes later, she was back with him, and they were both 
watching me!  My mind dissolved into one long, continuous series of 
peaks.

Thursday, the two of them watched me again.

Friday, she was alone.  It wasn't as good.  Phil never came home 
until Sunday night.  He had red marks on his bottom, similar to 
the ones I'd had on Wednesday.  I put some cream on them and never 
said a word.  I didn't dare!

Monday, she had another woman with her, someone about my own age, 
and just as good looking.  She had black hair, I had light brown, 
she had no bush, I had a small, carefully trimmed one, she had 
slightly bigger breasts, I had a slightly narrower waist and longer 
legs.  Her nipples are pink, mine are a medium tan.

Diana, using that leather stick thing, got her naked and jerking off 
right there in front of me.  I was stunned!  When the teen saw that 
I wasn't doing anything, she motioned for me to get undressed and 
get busy too.  When I still didn't do anything, she motioned at me 
with that stick!  I got undressed in a hurry.  It was fantastic 
again!  The earth moved, the sky fell down, and I dissolved into a 
puddle of exhausted goo.  The other woman looked as hot, sweaty, and 
tired as me.

We stared at each other for a while before I went inside and had a 
shower.

Tuesday, just before two, there was a knock at the door.  It was 
that other woman!  Neither of us said anything.  We went out onto 
the deck, stripped side by side, sat side by side, and started 
frigging ourselves.  That's when I noticed Diana was on her deck, 
with that guy, with their binoculars.  I didn't particularly care.  

When we had exhausted ourselves, the other woman used my shower, 
then got dressed and left.  Phil got home sometime after I was 
asleep.

Wednesday, she was back.  We did it again.  I never noticed anyone 
on the other deck the whole time.  At three, Diana showed up - on 
*my* deck!  She ushered us both inside, into the front room, still 
naked.  She sat the other woman in a chair, bottom on the front 
edge, legs spread wide.  Then she forced me down to my knees and 
tried to push my head between the other woman's legs!  No way! 

Diana hit me with that stick again.  Then again, and again, and 
again.  She didn't stop until I was lips-deep in the other woman's 
vagina, tongue swirling all over the place.  Her taste wasn't bad, 
and there was hardly any smell at all, even though she'd been 
masturbating for an hour.  She was very wet and juicy.  I must have 
done something right, because she climaxed at least three times in 
the next half hour.

Then Diana made us switch positions.  It was fantastic!  
Unbelievable!  Far better than when Phil was doing what he 
considered his obligatory duty.  I just couldn't get enough!  Before 
I was anywhere near done, they were gone.

Thursday, she was back.  There were several people I didn't 
recognize on the other porch, in addition to Diana and that other 
guy.  The two of us ignored everyone over there and did ourselves 
for an hour.  Then we went inside, into the bedroom, and did each 
other for another hour before she showered and left.

Friday went the same way.  Phil stayed away again until Sunday 
night.  He had even more red marks on him.  We never said a single 
word to each other.

Monday, I recognized two people on the other porch - Jack and 
Sylvia, our neighbours!  They were chatting away with Diana, and 
occasionally looking over to see how we were doing.  The other 
woman and I mostly watched each other, getting hotter all the time.  

Tuesday, Phil was there!  Naked!  Wearing a blindfold!  Diana was 
making him jerk off!  Any time he slowed down, she hit him with that 
stick!  I came so hard ...

When Phil came home that night, very late, I never said anything 
at all.  The red marks looked very angry indeed.  He slept on his 
stomach.

Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday were the same, differing only in 
who was over there.  On Thursday, nobody was!  We did it anyway.

Saturday, Phil moved out.  He came in, packed up his clothes, and 
left.  He said that he'd keep paying the mortgage, and keep giving 
me my weekly allowance, but he'd been given his orders.  Orders?

Sunday, the other woman moved in, without saying a word.  Diana 
helped her carry in her bags, taking them right up into my bedroom!  

The other woman's name, I found out later, is Becky.  We live 
together now.  She was Diana's next door neighbour, back before 
Jack and Sylvia moved.  Neither one of us has the slightest idea 
of what happened to her husband.  She hasn't seen him for six 
months.  The support checks keep coming in though, every two weeks.  
Still, we wonder.

Sometimes I see Phil a few times a week, mostly for meals, but every 
once in a while he sleeps over - on the couch.  Sometimes I don't 
see him for weeks.  I don't really miss him much anymore.

Becky and I still do that thing on the deck every weekday.  Diana 
insists on it.  The one time we skipped, she came over and whacked 
us until we could barely sit down!  So, even if there isn't anyone 
over there to see, we do it anyway.  Except when the weather doesn't 
cooperate.

We've learned to do each other in so many ways, it's hard to imagine 
ever not wanting to.  She is just as hungry as me.  Strange as it 
sounds, I think of her as my wife.  During one of our very few 
conversations, she said she thinks of me as her wife!  We do make 
a rather strange couple when we go out together.  

I wonder what Diana has planned for us when the weather starts 
getting bad again, later in the fall?