Wife's BBC Neighbor Breeds Her on Hubby's Sofa

Tim adjusted his headset for the third time, trying to focus on the quarterly forecast spreadsheet that blurred in front of him. At five-foot-six and barely one hundred forty pounds, he looked exactly like what he was: a mild-mannered software analyst who preferred the safety of his home office over almost anything else. His wife Kayla, by contrast, seemed to grow more vibrant every week. Her hourglass figure had filled out even more since she turned thirty, wide hips and heavy breasts straining against the thin sundresses she favored lately.

The new neighbor had a lot to do with that.

Marcus had moved in six weeks ago. The moment the moving truck left, the six-foot-four former college athlete had sauntered over with a six-pack of craft beer and a smile that made Tim’s stomach tighten. Within days Marcus was “popping by” almost every afternoon. He never knocked anymore. He simply let himself in through the sliding patio door like he already owned the place, his deep voice booming through the house.

“Kayla baby, you got any of that sweet tea left?” Marcus would call out, even when Tim was sitting right there at the kitchen table.

Today was no different.

Tim was stuck on a conference call with his boss and two clients when he heard the familiar heavy footsteps. Marcus’s chuckle rolled through the house like distant thunder. Tim’s shoulders hunched. He told himself he would say something this time. He really would. Any minute now.

In the living room, Kayla greeted their neighbor with the bright, slightly breathy laugh she only seemed to use around him lately. Tim could hear the smile in her voice even through the closed office door.

“Hey, trouble,” she teased. “You’re early today. Tim’s on a call.”

“Good,” Marcus rumbled, voice low and amused. “Means I don’t have to pretend I’m not staring at that fat ass while he’s in the room.”

Tim’s face burned. His cock twitched traitorously inside his khakis. He tried to focus on the speaker droning about revenue projections, but every nerve was tuned to the conversation happening ten feet away.

Kayla giggled, actually giggled, the sound feminine and filthy. “You’re so bad. What if he hears you?”

“Then maybe your little husband will finally grow a pair and do something about it. Or maybe,” Marcus’s voice dropped even lower, “he’ll just sit there and leak in his nerdy little pants like he always does.”