Mike Nails The Neighbor Wife

The sun beat down like a hammer on Saturday afternoon, turning the air thick and shimmering. Mike wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his forearm, the salt stinging his eyes. At twenty-eight, freshly divorced and trying to stay busy, he’d decided today was the day to replace the rotting sections of the privacy fence between his yard and the neighbor’s. His shirt had come off an hour ago, now draped over a sawhorse, leaving his lean, sun-browned torso glistening.

He drove another nail with a sharp crack, the sound echoing off the houses. That’s when the sliding glass door opened next door.

Sophia stepped out.

The 32-year-old Latina was built like a wet dream sculpted in bronze and curves. Heavy, pendulous breasts strained against the tiny red bikini top that barely contained them. Her waist dipped in dramatically before flaring into wide hips and a fat, heart-shaped ass that jiggled with every step. Thick thighs rubbed together as she walked across the patio in bare feet, a bottle of tanning oil swinging from one manicured hand. Her long dark hair was piled high, a few rebellious curls sticking to the back of her neck.

She knew he was there. She always knew.

Mike’s hammer paused mid-swing. He told himself to look away, to focus on the fence, but his eyes tracked her like magnets. Sophia spread a large towel over the cushioned lounger, then stretched slowly, arms reaching overhead. The motion made her massive tits lift and sway, the thin red fabric sliding slightly over her dark nipples. She glanced sideways, just once, and their eyes met.

The air changed instantly. It crackled.

She smiled to herself, a private, filthy little smile, then uncapped the oil. The scent of coconut drifted across the fence line as she poured a generous amount into her palm. Mike’s throat went dry. He pretended to measure a board, but his gaze kept sliding back.

Sophia started with her shoulders, smoothing the oil down her arms in long, sensual strokes. Her skin took on a deep, wet shine under the brutal sun. She worked it over her collarbones, then lower, sliding both hands between her breasts and pressing them together until they threatened to spill completely out of the bikini. The oily valley between them gleamed obscenely. Mike’s cock thickened inside his work jeans, pressing painfully against the denim.

She knew he was watching. She arched her back slightly, pushing her chest out, rolling her shoulders so her heavy tits bounced and swayed. One hand drifted down her soft belly, spreading oil in slow circles, then lower still, coating the generous curves of her hips. When she turned to give him her back, she bent forward at the waist to oil her calves, presenting that massive ass like an offering. The red bikini bottoms disappeared between her cheeks, little more than a string.

Mike’s hammer hung forgotten at his side.