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I had been staying with Ciara for a week during a University Alumni Retreat. As the week came to a close it seemed like it might have been time to leave, even though I didn’t really want to go back to my small, pandemic-locked-down apartment in New York City. When I asked her if I could stay longer her simple, direct answer was “Stay as long as you want. Or forever.”

A month later the pandemic began to dramatically surge again, despite everyone’s hopes. I was now even less inclined to return to New York. Working remotely was easy, and things were generally quieter and safer living with her in Pennsylvania than in New York. On the weekends she’d put me to work, small chores, little household repair jobs, and other things that needed tending.

We mostly kept to ourselves, but I did get to know a few neighbors in the row houses on either side of her house. As she put it, “you don’t need to take of your business in a neighborhood of row houses where people can hear through the walls – everyone will mind your business for you.”

It was about six weeks later that the storm blew through — remnants of a hurricane that had turned inland just below Philadelphia. Delaware got hammered, and while the winds were supposed to die down by the time they got this far inland the weather forecasters were wrong.

By ten p.m. that night the rain was pounding against the windows, and then, all at once, both of our phones started shrieking — almost unprecedented, a tornado had been seen forming on the tail edge of the storm. We took shelter in the basement with the cat, Dr. Socks, his nervous pacing only adding to our own anxiety.

We heard the rain pounding, the wind, and then we heard a huge crash and explosion. The lights went out and the house shuddered – and everything went quiet. All we could hear was the rain.

Then began another sound, mixed with the rain — a pounding, steady and rhythmic thud — “bang bang bang” – then a pause — then “bang bang bang.” I switched on my cell phone’s light, told Ciara to stay put, and crept up the steps into the darkness of the ground floor.

The house seemed intact from what I could tell — but the pounding continued, from the back. I padded quietly and carefully through the living room into the kitchen — and then I saw a figure at the back door, almost yelling in the rain, “Ciara, it’s me, let me in, help!”

I wasn’t sure who “me” was, but I opened the door anyway. It was the next-door neighbor, Linda Stoltzfus.

She was shaking and nearly incoherent. I offered her a chair and called for Ciara, and poured her a stiff drink. The story came out between sobs.

Apparently the telephone pole in front of our houses had been tossed by the wind and then snapped. As it started to fall over the transformer atop the pole exploded, right as it crashed through the front of Linda’s home.

We lit some candles, casino siteleri checked her for injuries from flying glass — she was thankfully ok — and eventually settled her into the guest room to get some sleep.

By the next morning the storm had cleared, and we all went out to inspect the damage.

It was a stroke of luck that Linda hadn’t been killed — and not only because of the crashing pole. The transformer on the pole had started a fire which was only prevented from spreading by the torrential rain.

Her insurance company would take over from here — they’d probably cover the front of the house with a tarp, check everything for smoke and water damage, and oversee repairs, which would take months.

Linda lived alone, and managed a small dental practice in town. Her children had moved away, and her husband had died a few years ago — I knew, even before Ciara said anything to me, that we’d be taking her in. We’d lose some of the privacy we cherished, but other than that it was a small inconvenience. Besides, I thought, it would give Ciara someone to talk to during the day when I was working.

In fact, it worked out well. We all kept different hours, but would get together for dinner every night, share a bottle of wine, and relax. My work required me to get up early to stay in touch with Europe, and so Ciara and I would often turn in early.

Most nights we’d lay in bed and read before turning out the lights — old school, paperbacks and hardcovers. It was about a week after Linda had moved in that Ciara and I were in bed reading. I had barely cracked open my book and found the place I had left off when I felt Ciara’s hand on my bare leg under the covers, lightly stroking the inside of my thigh. Some nights her touch was a gentle caress, a loving reminder of our affection — and some nights it led to more.

On those nights her touch would make it almost impossible for me to concentrate on reading — not that I’d want to. Tonight she was teasing me — she was touching my thigh lightly, then dragging her nails a bit harder along my thigh, then creeping up higher and higher, reaching inside a bit deeper — and then pull away. She’d have me hard in minutes, if that long, and she knew it.

“You don’t really think I can read when you do that.”

She looked at me, in mock seriousness. “I am so sorry. Did you want to read? I’ll stop.”

“No.” I closed my eyes, let the book cover flop closed, and sighed. “Don’t stop.”

“I’m sorry, am I boring you?” This had become a running joke between us, ever since she told me that her husband had an affair with a member of the college football team — a wide receiver, no less, and he had told her his infidelity was her fault — that he had found her ‘boring’.

“Boring? God no.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to read your book?”

“Oh, I’m sure.”

“Then what güvenilir casino DO you want?”

I had discovered, in the few short weeks that we had been together, that she liked to talk dirty in bed — she wanted to be anything but boring. She wanted to be the vixen, the slut, the bad girl that her mother had warned her about being. And she loved when I talked that way to her, as if it gave her the permission she needed to unleash her desire.

“I want you to suck my cock.”

“Hmmm.” She stroked my thigh with her nails, brushing against my balls. “Or would you prefer me to lick your balls?”

“I might…would you like that? You are so nasty…you love to suck my balls, don’t you?”

“Oh god, yes.” Her nipples were poking up under the sheet, betraying how much she loved the anticipation.

“Are you sure?” I asked, “because a boring woman would NEVER do that…” She reached up to pinch my nipple, almost too hard, as I felt my cock stiffening…

“I’m not boring” she whispered, “despite one report to the contrary. Unless this is boring you…”

She leaned over, her bare breasts hanging down on my leg, soft and warm. I could feel her breath on my cock, and then she licked the head like a cat lapping a bowl of milk, making me groan.

“Jeez, not boring, no, not boring. I want some more of that ‘not boring’.” I put my hands on her head lightly, closed my eyes, and stroked her hair as she bobbed up and down while she licked, nibbled, and sucked my cock. “When you do this it is like I am fucking your mouth and it feels so good.” She slurped on my cock for emphasis.

I opened my eyes to watch her — and noticed that her cat, Dr. Socks, had nudged the bedroom door open – I guess Ciara hadn’t closed it all the way when she came to bed. He padded silently to the laundry basket, climbed in and curled up. He watched us for a moment with bored, sleepy cat eyes, before grooming himself and then tucking his head under his tail, as if to avert his eyes.

As Ciara was rubbing my balls I softly urged her on — it seemed to make her even wetter when I talked to her. “Oh god, I love when you suck my cock — is that making your pussy wet?” — and absent-mindedly looked at her, at the cat, and at the cracked-open door as I reached down to find her nipple. And then I noticed something in the hallway mirror, which I could see through the cracked door.

It was Linda.

She must have been heading to the bathroom and stopped when she heard us.

From the way she was standing she didn’t seem to be able to see us — nor did she seem to realize that I could see her reflection in the hallway mirror, the bathroom light casting enough of a glow to clearly make her out. As hard as I was, I got even harder. I told Ciara again how she was driving me crazy — a bit louder this time, so Linda could hear.

“Your wet mouth on my cock canlı casino is incredible. Is your pussy wet too baby…let me feel if your pussy is as wet as your mouth…I’m going to rub those sweet pussy lips of yours, just move your leg a bit so I can dip a finger in your hot hole…”

Ciara moaned softly, my words exciting her even more, and she shifted, spreading her legs. I reached down to rub her pussy, and found her soaked. I gently pushed my fingers into her, “Baby, do you hear your pussy squishing, that is you, so fucking wet” and she moaned when I touched her, my cock in her mouth allowing only a stifled groan. I looked up, squinting, and watched Linda as she stood in the hall — she had parted her robe and was rubbing herself, her arm rising and falling as she masturbated, her other hand reaching up under the fold of her robe as she fondled her own breasts.

“Baby, would you like to cum with my cock in your mouth?” She half nodded, with a muffled “uh huh.”

“Are you sure? Because you are going to make me cum in your mouth…I’m going to shoot my load any minute…you can cum with me…” and then, thinking of Linda,

“Let’s cum together, cum with me, let me feel your pussy cum…”

Ciara turned her head, releasing my shining cock with a slurpy “pop!” to whisper in a strained voice “yes, jesus, rub my pussy, make me cum, I want to cum with you, when you cum in my mouth…”

I plunged two fingers into her sopping hole. She gasped, grabbed my cock and starting sucking the head, rubbing her tongue under the tip, and stroking my shaft, her grip tight and her hand moving faster and faster as she half jerked, half blew me.

And Linda was with us — in the dark, in the hall. I could see her arm moving back and forth under the dark furry patch of hair between her legs, and thought I could hear her pussy squishing, her eyes wide – and then I came as I thought about her masturbating as she watched us.

“Ciara, I’m cumming, suck it baby, swallow it down…I’m going to spurt in your mouth and run down your chin…” I grunted and didn’t hold back, knowing Linda would hear, rubbed Ciara’s clit as I came, spurting into her mouth until I ran down her lips and dripped onto my legs.

She started gasping as I fucked her with my fingers…and underneath it all I could hear Linda, trying so hard to be quiet; I saw Linda put one hand on her mouth to silence her passion, shaking, her bathrobe fallen open, her knees apart as she rubbed herself into an orgasm and tried to stay upright, one breast bare, the other still covered by her bathrobe.

Ciara and I laid there in the afterglow, catching our breath. I could see Linda in the hallway, her mouth open as she tried to catch her breath, and I continued talking to Ciara. “You are incredible. I love when you swallow my cock and suck me dry…”

Linda backed down the hall slowly and faded into the gloom, as if she didn’t want to turn away from us.

As we laid there I gently stroked Ciara’s hair, wondering if I should tell her that Linda had been watching us, but before I could make a decision I fell asleep, happy, warm, and slightly sticky.

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