Divorcee Next Door Tastes First Anal

I’m forty-two, three months past the final divorce papers, living alone in the same house that used to hold a marriage. Most nights I sit on the back deck with a beer and pretend the quiet is peace. Then Tamara moved in next door—thirty-eight, newly single, body like she was built to ruin a man—and the quiet started sounding like hunger.

It began over the fence. She’d lean on the cedar rails in a tank top that barely contained her full tits, dark hair piled up, freckles dusting her shoulders. “Those are some strong hands, Errol,” she’d say, watching me stack firewood or fix the gate. Her eyes would drag down my forearms, linger, and she’d wet her lower lip like she was already tasting something. I’d mumble thanks and feel my cock twitch against my jeans. Weeks of that. Lingering stares when she bent to pull weeds, ass high and round in cutoffs. Teasing compliments that got bolder. One afternoon she told me her ex never knew what to do with a woman who wanted more than five minutes of missionary and a pat on the head. “I’ve got an adventurous side he was too selfish to touch,” she said, voice low, eyes locked on mine. “Left me aching for something filthy. You look like you might understand aching.”

I understood it every fucking night after that. Jerking off in the shower imagining her bent over that fence, me spreading her open. We were both divorced, both clearly starving, the air between our yards thick with it.

Last Saturday she called over, “Errol, you free? Need help moving some furniture. Bring your strong hands.” I went. Her place smelled like vanilla and open windows. The “furniture” was a low bookshelf she could’ve slid herself. We moved it in five minutes. Then she poured wine—deep red, two heavy glasses—and we sat on her couch closer than neighbors should.

The talk turned dirty fast. She tucked one leg under herself, thigh pressing mine, and said her ex had been vanilla to the bone. “I tried to get him to play with my ass once. Just a finger. He looked at me like I’d asked him to rob a bank.” She laughed, but her cheeks flushed. Another sip. “I’ve always fantasized about it, though. Anal. Properly. Not just teasing. I want to feel completely full. Owned. Like someone’s claiming every inch of me that no one else has had.”

My mouth went dry. I set the glass down. “You’ve never…?”

“Virgin back there,” she said, bold as anything, and bit her lip hard enough to leave a mark. “I want it. Want to know what it’s like to take a cock there, slow at first, then deep. Want the stretch, the burn that turns into something filthy-good. Want a man who won’t get scared of how much I want it.” Her hand settled on my thigh, fingers squeezing. “You look like you wouldn’t scare easy, Errol. Those hands… I keep thinking about them gripping my hips while you push in.”

That did it. The weeks of fence-talk, the stares, the way she’d arch when she stretched, all of it crashed. I cupped her face and kissed her. She opened immediately, tongue sliding against mine, wine-sweet and hungry. A moan vibrated in her throat. My other hand found her waist, pulled her closer until she straddled my lap, knees bracketing my hips. Her tank rode up; I shoved it higher and filled my palms with her bare tits—heavy, warm, nipples already tight. She ground down against the hard ridge of my cock and whimpered into my mouth.

“Fuck, yes,” she breathed when we broke for air. “I’ve been wet since you walked through the door. Tell me you need this too.”

“I need it,” I said, voice rough. “Been watching you for weeks, jacking off to the idea of bending you over and giving you exactly what that selfish bastard wouldn’t. Want my cock in your tight virgin ass, Tamara. Want to feel you open for me.”

She yanked her top off completely. I sucked one nipple into my mouth, hard, and she cried out, fingers spearing into my hair. We stripped in a frantic rush—her shorts and panties shoved down her thighs, my shirt ripped over my head, jeans shoved to my knees. Her pussy was bare, slick, and when I slid two fingers through her folds she was soaked. I rubbed her clit while she stroked my cock, thumb smearing the precum beading at the tip.

“I’ve thought about this,” she confessed against my ear, hips rocking on my hand. “You behind me. Spit and lube and those thick fingers working me open. Then your cock, inch by inch, until I’m stuffed so full I can’t think. I want to feel owned, Errol. Used in the best way. Will you do that? Will you take my ass?”

“Yes.” I kissed her neck, bit lightly, felt her shiver. “Gonna stretch you slow until you’re begging. Then fuck you deep while you come around me.”

She stood just long enough to kick the rest of her clothes away, then dropped to her knees between my legs and licked a long stripe up my cock. “God, you’re big. It’s going to wreck me in the best way.” She took the head in her mouth, wet and hot, and I groaned, hand gentle on the back of her head. She only sucked for a minute—teasing, getting me glistening—before climbing back into my lap, naked and flushed.

We kissed again, messier, her wet pussy sliding along the length of my cock. I reached around and cupped her ass cheeks, spreading them, one fingertip brushing the tight, untouched hole. She gasped and pushed back into the touch.

“There,” she whispered. “Right there. I’ve fingered it alone sometimes, imagining it was you. Never enough. I need the real thing. Need to be full.”

I pressed just the pad of my finger against the rim, circling, feeling it flutter. She was trembling, panting, grinding her clit against my shaft. The confession poured out of both of us between kisses—how badly we needed something new and filthy, how the divorce had left us raw and restless, how the fence flirting had been foreplay neither of us wanted to end. My finger stayed there, not pushing in yet, just promising, while her hand wrapped around my cock and stroked in time with the slow rock of her hips.

The afternoon light slanted through the blinds, striping her bare back. Wine forgotten. Furniture forgotten. Only the heat of her, the way she bit her lip every time my fingertip pressed a little firmer, the mutual admission that we were past the point of pretending this was anything but inevitable. She lifted up slightly, reached back, and guided the head of my cock to rest against her pussy lips, not taking me inside, just letting me feel how wet she was while my other hand kept her ass spread.

“Not yet,” she said, voice shaky with want. “I want the first time you sink into me to be the place no one’s been. But God, Errol, if you keep touching me like that I’m going to come just from the idea.”

I kissed her hard, swallowed her next moan, and kept us right there on the edge—naked, grinding, her virgin ass under my hands, both of us aching and open-mouthed with how much further we still had to go.

She trembled in my lap like a wire pulled too tight, my fingertip still circling that untouched pucker while the slick heat of her pussy painted the underside of my cock. I could feel every tiny flutter of her hole against the pad of my finger, the way it clenched and softened in the same breath, begging without words. Her confession hung between us—“Not yet… the place no one’s been”—and it cracked something open in me. I needed to hear her choke on it first. Needed to watch those full lips stretch around me until spit ran down her chin before I ever split her open.

“Get on your knees,” I told her, voice low and rough. “Show me how bad you want this cock before I bury it in that virgin ass.”

Tamara didn’t hesitate. She slid off my lap like she’d been waiting years for the order, dropped straight to the floor between my spread thighs, and wrapped both hands around the base. Her eyes flicked up, dark and fever-bright. “I’ve been starving for this,” she whispered, then opened wide and took me to the root in one long, wet slide.

Jesus. The sudden wet heat of her throat made my hips jerk. She gagged softly, eyes watering, but she held me there—nose buried in the hair at my base, throat rippling around the head—before she pulled back just enough to breathe and then plunged down again. Spit slicked my shaft. She hollowed her cheeks, tongue working the underside, and when she came up gasping she looked wrecked already: lips swollen, mascara starting to smudge, freckles stark against flushed cheeks.

“Fuck, look at you,” I groaned, gathering her dark hair in one fist so I could watch every filthy inch disappear. “Taking me so deep like you were made for it. You’re going to take my cock the same way in that tight little ass, aren’t you?”

She moaned around me in answer, the vibration traveling straight to my balls, then pulled off with a wet pop. A string of spit connected her bottom lip to my cockhead. “Yes. God, yes. I want it so bad it hurts. Please—let me feel you stretch me.”

She stood, turned, and bent over the arm of the couch without being told, presenting that perfect round ass like an offering. She reached back with both hands and spread herself wide—cheeks parted, the tiny pink star of her hole winking at me, pussy dripping down her thighs. “Eat it,” she begged, voice thick. “Please, Errol. Tongue my ass while you finger-fuck my pussy. I need to feel you everywhere before you ruin me.”

I dropped to my knees behind her like a man possessed. The first long lick from her soaked cunt up over her perineum to that clenched rim made her cry out. I sealed my mouth over her hole and pushed my tongue against it, tasting clean skin and want, while two fingers of my right hand slid easily into her pussy. She was molten inside, walls fluttering, and I crooked those fingers to rub the spot that made her knees buckle. My left hand kept her spread open so I could spear my tongue deeper, circling, thrusting, opening her by degrees while she pushed back onto my face and my hand like she couldn’t get enough.

“Oh fuck—yes, just like that—tongue me open, finger me harder—” Her words broke into high, needy moans. “I’ve never felt anything this dirty. Don’t stop. Make me drip down your chin.”

I worked her until her thighs shook and her hole softened under my tongue, until three fingers pumped easily through her dripping cunt and she was babbling broken praise. Only then did I ease back, wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, and reach for the bottle of lube she’d somehow produced from the side table—clear, thick, waiting like she’d planned this exact moment. I coated my cock generously, then poured more into the cleft of her ass and rubbed it over that virgin ring with two fingers, pressing just the tips inside to coat her.

“Ready?” I asked, even though her whole body was already answering yes.

“Do it. Slow. I want to feel every inch claim me.”

I stood, lined the slick head of my cock against her pucker, and pushed. The resistance was fierce—tight, hot, perfect. She sucked in a sharp breath and pushed out like I’d told her earlier in the fantasy, and the head popped inside with a wet sound that made us both groan. I held still, buried just that first thick inch, hands locked on her hips while she adjusted, breathing hard, ass rippling around me.

“So big—fuck, the stretch—” she whimpered, reaching under herself to rub tight circles on her clit. “More. Give me more. I can take it.”

I fed her another inch, then another, watching the way her hole stretched obscenely around my shaft, the rim clinging white then flushing pink as it swallowed me. Every slow thrust opened her deeper. Her free hand white-knuckled the couch cushion. Her clit-rubbing fingers sped up. When I finally bottomed out—balls pressed tight to her dripping pussy, every last inch buried in that virgin ass—she let out a long, broken moan that sounded like relief and ruin mixed together.

“Full,” she gasped. “So fucking full. You’re owning me. Move. Please move.”

I fucked her in deep, measured strokes, pulling almost all the way out so she could feel the drag, then sinking back in until my hips met her ass. The lube squelched wetly. Her hole clenched and fluttered with every thrust. She kept rubbing her clit in frantic little circles, and I could feel the orgasm building in the way her walls fluttered around my cock, the way her spine bowed deeper.

“I’m gonna come,” she warned, voice cracking. “I’m coming on your cock in my ass—don’t stop—”

She shattered with a cry, pussy squirting down her thighs onto the couch, ass locking down so tight I almost lost it right there. I rode her through it, grinding deep, praising her the whole time—“That’s it, take it, milk my cock with that tight virgin hole”—until the last aftershocks left her trembling and loose.

She wasn’t done. The second she could move she pushed back, forced me to sit on the couch, and climbed on in reverse cowgirl. Facing away, she reached back, guided my still-hard, glistening cock to her stretched hole, and sank down in one long, deliberate slide. I watched every filthy inch disappear into her bouncing ass—watched the way her hole stretched wide around my base, the way her cheeks rippled when she bottomed out.

“Look at that,” she moaned, starting to ride, lifting almost off and dropping hard. “Watch your cock disappear in my ass. God, I love it. Love being stretched open for you. I’m your anal slut now, Errol. Say it. Tell me I’m your dirty little anal whore who just gave you her virgin hole.”

I gripped her hips hard enough to bruise and thrust up to meet every bounce. “You’re my anal slut. Look at you taking every fucking inch like you were born for it. Bounce on that cock. Show me how much you love having your virgin ass fucked.”

She rode harder, faster, one hand braced on my thigh, the other flying over her clit again. Her ass cheeks clapped against my hips. Sweat slicked the freckles on her back. Every downward slam made her hole gulp me to the root, and the sight of it—my thick cock vanishing completely into that greedy pink ring—had me right on the edge again. She tossed her head back, dark hair sticking to her shoulders, and kept moaning the filth she needed me to hear.

“I love being your anal slut. Love how deep you are. Never letting anyone else have this—only you, only this cock wrecking my ass—”

I was close, balls drawing tight, the wet slap of her riding me filling the room, but I held off, fingers digging into her flesh, letting her use me, watching the hypnotic bounce of her stuffed ass. She came again with a guttural cry, grinding down hard, and the way her hole spasmed around me nearly dragged me over with her. I gritted my teeth and stayed buried, throbbing, unfinished, while she collapsed back against my chest, still impaled, still pulsing.

We stayed locked like that, breathing hard, my cock twitching deep inside her used, freshly claimed ass. She turned her head and kissed me sloppy and grateful, whispering against my mouth that she wasn’t finished, that she still needed more, that she wanted me to fill her until it leaked down her thighs. The afternoon light had shifted lower. My hands roamed her sweat-damp tits and the soft give of her belly while she squeezed around me experimentally, testing how raw and open she felt. Neither of us was done. The hunger that started over the fence had only gotten sharper now that I was buried balls-deep in the one place no man had touched, and the way she kept rocking tiny circles on my lap promised the night was nowhere near over.

I kept her pinned against my chest, still buried to the hilt in that newly claimed ass, feeling every flutter and squeeze as she caught her breath. My hands slid up to cup her heavy tits, thumbs brushing the tight nipples, and she arched into the touch with a soft, broken sound. The late afternoon light had gone honey-gold through the blinds, striping her freckled shoulders while sweat cooled on our skin. She rolled her hips in tiny circles, testing the stretch, and my cock twitched hard inside her.

“Still so full,” she whispered, turning her head so I could catch her mouth. The kiss was slow and deep, wine and spit and everything filthy we’d already done. “Don’t pull out. I need you to finish in me. Flood that virgin hole you just ruined. Make it yours for real.”

I groaned against her lips and shifted us carefully, keeping every thick inch locked inside her as I guided her forward onto her hands and knees on the couch cushions. She went willingly, ass pushed high, back arched, that pink rim stretched obscenely around my shaft. I stayed deep while I reached around and found her clit again, swollen and slick. Two fingers rubbed tight circles and she shoved back immediately, taking me even deeper.

“Fuck me,” she begged, voice raw. “Harder now. I can take it. I want to feel you lose it in my ass.”

I started thrusting—long, rolling strokes that dragged almost all the way out so she could feel the thick head stretch her open again and again before I slammed home. The wet slap of skin filled the room. Lube and her earlier squirt made everything filthy-slick. Her hole gripped me like a fist, clinging, fluttering every time I bottomed out and my balls kissed her dripping pussy. I watched my cock disappear into that greedy ring, the way her cheeks rippled, the way her freckled back flexed under the strain.

She rubbed her own clit in frantic little circles, matching my rhythm. “God, Errol—so deep—feels like you’re splitting me open in the best way. Don’t stop. Use me. Claim it.”

I gripped her hips hard enough to leave marks and fucked her with everything I had left, chasing that edge. The heat, the tight drag, the way she moaned and pushed back for more—it all coiled low and savage in my gut. She came first this time, a sudden violent lock of her muscles around my cock that nearly dragged me over. Her cry cracked high and broken; her thighs shook; clear fluid sprayed down onto the cushions again while her ass milked me in hard pulses.

I held out just long enough to ride her through it, then buried myself to the root one final time and let go. The orgasm ripped up my spine. Thick ropes of cum pumped deep into her virgin ass—pulse after heavy pulse, flooding her until I felt it overflow around my shaft and drip down her pussy lips. She felt every spurt and came again, harder than before, a full-body shudder that wrung another gush from her cunt and made her hole spasm wildly around the still-throbbing length buried inside her.

“Yes—fill me—oh fuck I’m coming so hard—” Her voice broke into wordless sobs of pleasure. I kept grinding deep, emptying everything I had, until the last twitches faded and we both collapsed forward, me draped over her back, cock still lodged in that wrecked, creampied hole.

We stayed like that for long minutes, breathing hard, my cum slowly leaking out around me and painting her thighs. Eventually I eased free with a wet sound; she whimpered at the sudden emptiness, then reached back and pushed two of her own fingers into her stretched ass, feeling the mess I’d left. I watched, dazed and still half-hard, as she pulled them free glistening white and brought them to her mouth, tasting us.

She turned, curled against my side on the ruined couch, one leg thrown over mine. Her dark hair stuck to her damp freckled cheeks. I cupped her face and kissed her deep, slow, tasting the salt of her skin and the faint musk of what we’d done. She melted into it, soft and open, tongue sliding lazy against mine.

When we broke she stayed close, forehead against mine, eyes half-lidded and shining. “My back door officially belongs to you now,” she whispered, voice husky and satisfied. “Whenever I need it. You hear me? That tight little hole you just flooded is yours. No one else gets it. Next time you want to bend me over the fence or haul me inside after mowing the lawn, you just knock. Or climb through my window. I don’t care. I’ll be wet and ready and begging for another creampie.”

I grinned, thumb stroking her swollen lower lip. “Neighborly visits, huh?”

She grinned back, wicked and soft at once. “Filthy secret ones. I already want more. Tomorrow night? I’ll leave the back door unlocked. Wear me out again. Make me walk funny so the mailman wonders.”

We lay there tangled a while longer, trading lazy kisses, her fingers tracing the hair on my chest while my hand cupped the soft give of her ass—feeling how open and used she still was. The hunger that started over the cedar rails had settled into something hotter and permanent. She nuzzled closer, whispered half-formed plans between kisses: weekend mornings when the kids across the street were at soccer, late nights after one too many beers on the deck, maybe even the hot tub once she got it fixed. I agreed to all of it, cock already twitching again at the thought of her bent over my kitchen counter next time.

Eventually the light outside faded to full dusk. She stretched against me like a cat, then sat up slowly, wincing in the best way and pressing a final lingering kiss to my mouth.

“I need a shower and maybe half a bottle of wine to celebrate,” she said, smiling that freckled, fuck-drunk smile. “You should head home before the whole block starts talking about how long you’ve been over here ‘moving furniture.’”

I stood, found my jeans, pulled them on while she watched, still naked and gleaming with sweat and cum. She walked me to the door barefoot, stole one more deep kiss, then stepped back.

I crossed the threshold, stepped out onto her porch, and walked the short path back toward my own dark house, the quiet no longer empty.