Neighbor's Wife Craves Forbidden Ecstasy

Jake wiped the sweat from his brow as he pulled his truck into the driveway next door, toolbox rattling in the bed. At 28, he was the go-to handyman in this sleepy suburban neighborhood, fixing leaky faucets and busted dryers for folks who could afford his rates. Today, it was Lisa's place—his curvaceous neighbor with the killer rack and a husband who jetted off on endless business trips. Mark was gone again, probably schmoozing clients in Chicago, leaving his wife alone in that big house. Jake had seen the longing in her eyes before, the way she'd linger by the fence in her yoga pants, chatting him up like she was starving for attention.

He knocked, and the door swung open to reveal Lisa, 32 and fucking stacked. Her tight white tank top strained against her massive, heaving tits, nipples poking through like they were begging for a mouth. Tiny denim shorts hugged her thick thighs and round ass, the kind that made a man's cock twitch just looking. Her long auburn hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her full lips curved into a sultry smile. "Jake! Right on time. Come in, that damn pipe under the sink is flooding the kitchen again."

She led him inside, her hips swaying hypnotically, the scent of vanilla and horny woman wafting back. Jake followed, eyes glued to her ass cheeks peeking from the shorts' frayed edges. "Mark's away for a week," she said casually, glancing over her shoulder with a wink. "Just me and my neglected pussy."

He chuckled, setting his toolbox down in the pristine kitchen. "That so? Sounds rough." Understatement of the year—Jake had overheard their fights through thin walls, Mark too buried in work to give her the pounding she clearly needed. Lisa poured him a glass of iced tea, her fingers brushing his as she handed it over, lingering way too long. "God, Jake, you're so strong. All muscled up from this handyman shit. Mark hasn't touched me in months. I crave a real man who knows how to handle a woman like me."