Baby, It's Cold Outside - Sex Stories

Baby, It's Cold Outside

... one-and-done kind of guy. Despite this thirst for cum, I did not consider myself to be gay or even an any-port-in-the-storm bisexual.

Let's get back to the issue at hand.

Approximately eighteen months ago, Nate and Pam moved from Hartford, CT to our neighborhood; two blocks up and down a cul de sac. Nate was an overweight jovial redhead with a pale complexion. When floating on his back in the community pool, he brought to mind Moby Dick.

Pam was the polar opposite. She walked or jogged daily, always past our house. If I were working in the yard, she’d smile and wave. I decided to get a better look. Don't get me wrong. I didn't believe in putting the moves on some other guy’s wife; I just wanted to look and not touch.

I started working in a street-side flower bed and coincidentally Pam started pausing for a few minutes to catch her breath and to chew the fat.

I got a better look. The best word to describe her would be “cute”. She was almost bug-like; maybe 5’ 1”, 95# or so, with very shapely legs and big tits. She reminded me of Sarah Jessica Parker, but with a less equine face.

I liked her a lot.

Let’s fast forward to this morning. My cardiologist prescribed metoprolol and forty-five minutes of aerobic activity per day at my last office visit. I’m too old to jog and I hate bicycles; so I started walking in the neighborhood. I actually relished the time out of the house and away from Julie. I walked rain or shine.

I considered bagging it this morning. ...

... It was cloudy and the thermometer hovered at eleven degrees. I drank a hot cup of java and headed outside wearing a knitted cap, a Columbia parka and a pair of ski gloves. I looked like Nannuck of the North.

My route took me down Pam and Nate’s cul-de-sac. Just as I was reaching the end and ready to head back, Pam ran out of the house to the mailbox. To say she wasn't dressed for the weather would be an understatement. She was slogging in untied Sorel snow boots and wearing only sweatpants and a crop top tee. Her arms were crossed over her chest, but her belly was exposed to the elements. Her erect nipples suggested she was braless.

Pam retrieved the mail and surprisingly tarried by the box. She uttered a “Brrrrrr” and against all odds, added, “Are you crazy, walking outside in this weather? Come inside. I just put on a fresh pot of coffee.”

Who was I to turn down an invitation from a young braless cutie?

Both of us kicked off our footwear and I hung my parka on a hook in their mudroom. I forgot to remove my hat and in retrospect, probably looked like Waldo.

Pam led me into an open-floorplan kitchen/family room and pointed to a couch. “Grab a seat and make yourself comfortable. You can use that afghan, if you want. I'll check the coffee.”

She headed toward the kitchen, but not before turning on the natural gas fireplace.

Pam returned with two truck-stop-style mugs of steaming coffee. I couldn't help but notice that her nipples were still tenting outward ...