A Neighborly Affair Part 2 - Sex Stories

A Neighborly Affair Part 2

Life is funny. Just when you think your ship is sinking and it seems hopeless, a lifeline appears. My humiliating attempt to have sex with my teenage neighbor, Sharon, had resulted in a humiliating and dangerous premature ejaculation--dangerous because of the possibility of an unwanted pregnancy. And even though we dodged that bullet, I was too embarrassed by my performance to ask Sharon out again.

Of course, that was MY problem. Sharon probably felt that I had dumped her because we'd had sex, if you want to call it that, and the mystery was now gone from our relationship. I'd considered that thought might be going through her head, but I also couldn't get over the idea that she might be telling anyone who would listen what a lousy lover I was who could only last for sixty seconds. In short, a laughingstock, albeit with a huge dick. Regardless, I was too embarrassed to talk to her and find out her true feelings.

But now, after my visit with Mrs. Collins, I was on cloud nine. I had performed well with her by all measures that I could think of, including the size of my cock (she used a sewing tape measure to verify my length at ten inches when hard). By all indications, she continued to be pleased with my performance both around her house and in her bedroom. She developed what turned out to be an endless list of jobs for me that invariably ended up in a sweaty fuck session in bed. Linda Collins had an insatiable sex drive, and I did my best to satisfy her.

It looked to ...

... be a great summer: I had employment, sort of, and a guilt-free fuck-partner who was not only gorgeous but also experienced and old enough that commitment was not even a consideration. This would be like sport fucking--or so I reasoned. I figured that I'd go off to college in the fall and return during holidays to resume where we left off. Keep in mind, however, this was the conclusion of an eighteen-year-old high school senior whose idea of planning for the future was scraping enough change to buy five gallons of gas. As previously mentioned, my brain stem was lodged in my now measurably large cock.

But to paraphrase Bobby Burns, the best-laid plans can easily go to shit.

My mother, despite her eternally positive demeanor, was not doing well. My good luck with Mrs. Collins was tempered by the fact that it would be a depressing summer with hospitalizations and eventually hospice for Mom. At that point, we all prepared for the inevitable. Mom seemed to handle it better than either Dad or I. She had carefully made all the necessary arrangements and seemed at peace with her situation.

"No one gets to leave this earth alive," she reminded me. Her religious convictions also provided a sort of haven as well. She knew she was only going to a better place. I was not as convinced, but I held my tongue for once and did my best to support her convictions.

And earlier than expected, that summer, she passed–peacefully, thanks to hospice and strong meds. We suffered through all ...