Cup of Sugar - Sex Stories

Cup of Sugar

I’ve had the hots for Carl Scott ever since he moved in to the house across the street. Carl is forty years old and works out every day, and that body of his is rock solid. I see him with his shirt off when he is mowing his front lawn or washing his car, and I feel like I want to lick the sweat off his skin. He looked good in his black uniform too. Carl works as a law enforcement officer. I thought about a thousand different ways to try to approach him without getting arrested. I knew he was married, and I didn’t want to make a fool of myself if he rejected me. I told my husband Jack about my horny feelings for Carl, and Jack told me that I should introduce myself properly to him. “Well, what do you mean by proper , Jack?” I asked. “Just don’t hold back,” Jack explained. And that was all he had to say. Jack knows that I am a borderline sex addict and he knows about my sexual exploits with other men because I know he loves to hear about, and I love telling him about it, especially when we’re naked in bed. It’s a double win for me! Jack likes to help by giving me advice on how to handle things, and with our neighbor Carl, it made sense to not beat around the bush and just jump right into it. I might come out of it with thorny scratches, or I might get lucky and become a part of it. As an attractive, thirty-five year old woman, I know that men still enjoy looking at me the way they did when I was twenty. Even more-so nowadays since I am better at working with my looks. I ...

... have a pretty face, a tall and slender body, small but perky tits, long sexy legs and a nice ass. What man could refuse that? Well, I convinced myself that not even Carl from across the street could refuse something like that as I stood naked in front of my bedroom mirror, getting myself ready to take a walk across the street and knock on his door. I told Jack what I was planning on doing and he gave me some last minute advice. I started getting dressed right after Jack left for work. With my sugar cup in hand, I made my way across the street to Carl’s front door. I knew that Carl’s wife wasn’t at home because they work different shifts, and I saw her from my bedroom window getting into her car and driving away less than an hour ago. Even still, I was a bundle of nerves and excitement. I gave a quick glance around to see if no one had seen me. The last thing I wanted was to have the neighbors talking. I’m sure the gossip would go like this: “Helen! Did you see Renee Monterey sneaking out of her house after her husband left for work this morning?” “No, I didn’t. What happened Mary?” “She headed straight across the street to Carl Scotts house.” “So what’s so wrong about that?” “His wife left for work just thirty minutes before. But the way Renee was dressed is what really had me suspicious.” “Well, how was she dressed?” “Well, Helen… she was in her bare feet and what she had on barely covered her body. I’m talking about a tiny pink halter top and a pair of disgustingly short ...