“Where’s the leak?” he asked, his voice low and cautious, eyes scanning the dimly lit hallway. I exhaled shakily, letting my robe slip slightly off one shoulder. “Down here,” I whispered, my fingers brushing against the hem of my nightgown. His gaze followed, lingering a moment too long before snapping back to my face. “I don’t see anything,” he said, stepping closer, his tool belt jingling faintly. “It’s not that kind of leak,” I murmured, my voice trembling just enough to make him pause. “It’s… personal.” His brow furrowed, confusion flickering across his features. I could see the wheels turning in his head as he tried to piece together what I meant. I didn’t give him the chance. I reached for his hand before he could react, guiding it under my robe, pressing his palm against the damp lace of my underwear. His breath caught, his fingers stiffening for a moment before they curled instinctively, feeling the warmth seeping through the fabric. “Jesus,” he muttered, his voice rough. “I need you,” I said, my lips brushing against the shell of his ear. “I need someone who knows how to fix things.” He didn’t pull away. * It had started hours earlier, after my husband had rolled over in bed, snoring softly, unaware of the emptiness settling in my chest. The weight of it pressed against me, suffocating and heavy, as I stared at the ceiling. Two minutes. That’s all it had taken. Two minutes, and then he was done, leaving me unsatisfied, frustrated, and desperate for something more. I’d tried to ignore it, to push the thoughts away, but they kept creeping back, insistent and undeniable. My mind wandered to the neighbor across the street, the one who always seemed to be outside fixing something, his muscles straining against his shirt as he worked. I’d caught myself watching him more than once, imagining what it would feel like to have his hands on me, to feel the strength of him as he— I shook my head, forcing the thoughts aside. But they kept coming back, stronger each time, until I couldn’t ignore them anymore. I glanced at the clock. Midnight. The house was quiet, the only sound the steady rhythm of my husband’s breathing. My heart pounded as I reached for my phone, my fingers trembling as I scrolled through my contacts. I hesitated for a moment, then pressed call before I could talk myself out of it. It rang twice before he answered, his voice groggy but alert. “Hello?” “It’s me,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “There’s… there’s an emergency.” “What kind of emergency?” “A leak. In the bathroom. I don’t know what to do.” There was a pause, and I could almost hear the gears turning in his head. “Okay,” he said finally. “I’ll be right over.” I hung up before he could say anything else, my heart racing as I slipped out of bed, grabbing my robe and tying it loosely around my waist. I glanced at my husband once more, making sure he was still asleep, then tiptoed to the front door, my pulse quickening with each step. The wait felt like an eternity, the silence pressing in on me as I stood in the darkness, my mind racing. What was I doing? This was insane. Reckless. Dangerous. But the ache inside me wouldn’t go away, and neither would the image of him, his hands on me, his body pressed against mine. The knock at the door startled me, and I jumped, my heart pounding as I reached for the handle. I took a deep breath, then opened the door, the cool night air rushing in as he stepped inside, his tool belt slung low on his hips. “Where’s the leak?” he asked, his voice low. And that’s when it all began. * His hand was still on me, his fingers pressing against the damp fabric as his eyes searched mine, looking for answers I wasn’t sure I had. “You’re serious,” he said, his voice rough, and it wasn’t a question. I nodded, my heart hammering in my chest. “I need someone who knows how to take their time,” I whispered, my fingers trailing down his chest, feeling the muscles tense beneath his shirt. “Someone who can give me what I’ve been missing.” He didn’t say anything, but I could see the conflict in his eyes, the way he was struggling to process what was happening. I didn’t give him the chance to think. I stepped closer, my body pressing against his as I reached for the buckle of his tool belt, my fingers fumbling slightly as I undid it, letting it fall to the floor with a soft thud. His breath hitched as I leaned in, my lips brushing against his neck, and I could feel the heat radiating off him, the way his body responded to mine even as his mind fought against it. “We shouldn’t—” he started, but I cut him off with a kiss, my lips crashing against his as I pulled him closer, my hands tangling in his hair. For a moment, he hesitated, his body stiff against mine, but then he kissed me back, his hands gripping my hips as he deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping into my mouth. The taste of him was intoxicating, and I moaned softly, my body arching into his as the need inside me grew, burning hotter with every second. “Not here,” I whispered, breaking the kiss and grabbing his hand, pulling him down the hallway toward the bathroom. “We can’t risk waking him.” He followed without a word, his footsteps heavy on the hardwood floor as I led him into the small, dimly lit room, closing the door behind us with a soft click. The air was thick with anticipation, the tension between us almost palpable as I turned to face him, my robe slipping off my shoulders and pooling at my feet. His eyes raked over me, taking in the sight of my body in the flimsy nightgown, and I could see the hunger in his gaze, the way he was fighting to keep control. “You’re sure about this?” he asked, his voice low and strained. I nodded, my hands reaching for the hem of my nightgown, pulling it up and over my head in one smooth motion, leaving me standing there in nothing but my lace underwear. His breath caught as his eyes traveled down my body, lingering on the curve of my hips, the swell of my breasts. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” I said, my voice trembling with need. He hesitated for a moment longer, then stepped closer, his hands reaching for me as he pulled me into another kiss, his lips searing against mine. I moaned into his mouth, my hands roaming over his body, feeling the muscles tense beneath my touch as I reached for the buttons of his shirt, undoing them one by one. His chest was bare beneath, the skin warm and smooth as I ran my hands over it, feeling the steady beat of his heart against my palm. “You’re driving me crazy,” he muttered, his voice rough as his hands found the waistband of my underwear, his fingers slipping beneath the lace and tracing the curve of my hips. I shivered at his touch, my body responding instinctively as I leaned into him, my hands sliding down his arms, feeling the strength in them as they gripped my waist. “Then stop thinking,” I whispered, my lips brushing against his ear. “And just feel.” His hands tightened on my hips, and I could feel the conflict in him, the way he was still holding back, still hesitating. But I didn’t want hesitation. I wanted him. I reached for the fly of his jeans, my fingers trembling as I undid the button and pulled down the zipper, my hand slipping inside and feeling the hardness straining against the fabric. His breath caught, his body trembling as he pressed against me, his hands gripping my hips as he buried his face in the curve of my neck. “You’re playing with fire,” he warned, his voice low and strained. I smiled, my hand tightening around him as I whispered, “Then burn with me.” And that’s when I felt him give in, his hands sliding up my body, his lips crashing against mine as he—

“Where’s the leak?” he asked, his voice low and cautious, eyes scanning the dimly lit hallway. 

I exhaled shakily, letting my robe slip slightly off one shoulder. “Down here,” I whispered, my fingers brushing against the hem of my nightgown. His gaze followed, lingering a moment too long before snapping back to my face. 

“I don’t see anything,” he said, stepping closer, his tool belt jingling faintly. 

“It’s not that kind of leak,” I murmured, my voice trembling just enough to make him pause. “It’s… *personal*.” 

His brow furrowed, confusion flickering across his features. I could see the wheels turning in his head as he tried to piece together what I meant. I didn’t give him the chance. 

I reached for his hand before he could react, guiding it under my robe, pressing his palm against the damp lace of my underwear. His breath caught, his fingers stiffening for a moment before they curled instinctively, feeling the warmth seeping through the fabric. 

“Jesus,” he muttered, his voice rough. 

“I need you,” I said, my lips brushing against the shell of his ear. “I need someone who knows how to *fix* things.” 

He didn’t pull away. 

*** 

It had started hours earlier, after my husband had rolled over in bed, snoring softly, unaware of the emptiness settling in my chest. The weight of it pressed against me, suffocating and heavy, as I stared at the ceiling. Two minutes. That’s all it had taken. Two minutes, and then he was done, leaving me unsatisfied, frustrated, and desperate for something more. 

I’d tried to ignore it, to push the thoughts away, but they kept creeping back, insistent and undeniable. My mind wandered to the neighbor across the street, the one who always seemed to be outside fixing something, his muscles straining against his shirt as he worked. I’d caught myself watching him more than once, imagining what it would feel like to have his hands on me, to feel the strength of him as he— 

I shook my head, forcing the thoughts aside. But they kept coming back, stronger each time, until I couldn’t ignore them anymore. 

I glanced at the clock. Midnight. The house was quiet, the only sound the steady rhythm of my husband’s breathing. My heart pounded as I reached for my phone, my fingers trembling as I scrolled through my contacts. I hesitated for a moment, then pressed call before I could talk myself out of it. 

It rang twice before he answered, his voice groggy but alert. “Hello?” 

“It’s me,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “There’s… there’s an emergency.” 

“What kind of emergency?” 

“A leak. In the bathroom. I don’t know what to do.” 

There was a pause, and I could almost hear the gears turning in his head. “Okay,” he said finally. “I’ll be right over.” 

I hung up before he could say anything else, my heart racing as I slipped out of bed, grabbing my robe and tying it loosely around my waist. I glanced at my husband once more, making sure he was still asleep, then tiptoed to the front door, my pulse quickening with each step. 

The wait felt like an eternity, the silence pressing in on me as I stood in the darkness, my mind racing. What was I doing? This was insane. Reckless. Dangerous. But the ache inside me wouldn’t go away, and neither would the image of him, his hands on me, his body pressed against mine. 

The knock at the door startled me, and I jumped, my heart pounding as I reached for the handle. I took a deep breath, then opened the door, the cool night air rushing in as he stepped inside, his tool belt slung low on his hips. 

“Where’s the leak?” he asked, his voice low. 

And that’s when it all began. 

*** 

His hand was still on me, his fingers pressing against the damp fabric as his eyes searched mine, looking for answers I wasn’t sure I had. 

“You’re serious,” he said, his voice rough, and it wasn’t a question. 

I nodded, my heart hammering in my chest. “I need someone who knows how to take their time,” I whispered, my fingers trailing down his chest, feeling the muscles tense beneath his shirt. “Someone who can give me what I’ve been missing.” 

He didn’t say anything, but I could see the conflict in his eyes, the way he was struggling to process what was happening. I didn’t give him the chance to think. 

I stepped closer, my body pressing against his as I reached for the buckle of his tool belt, my fingers fumbling slightly as I undid it, letting it fall to the floor with a soft thud. His breath hitched as I leaned in, my lips brushing against his neck, and I could feel the heat radiating off him, the way his body responded to mine even as his mind fought against it. 

“We shouldn’t—” he started, but I cut him off with a kiss, my lips crashing against his as I pulled him closer, my hands tangling in his hair. 

For a moment, he hesitated, his body stiff against mine, but then he kissed me back, his hands gripping my hips as he deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping into my mouth. The taste of him was intoxicating, and I moaned softly, my body arching into his as the need inside me grew, burning hotter with every second. 

“Not here,” I whispered, breaking the kiss and grabbing his hand, pulling him down the hallway toward the bathroom. “We can’t risk waking him.” 

He followed without a word, his footsteps heavy on the hardwood floor as I led him into the small, dimly lit room, closing the door behind us with a soft click. The air was thick with anticipation, the tension between us almost palpable as I turned to face him, my robe slipping off my shoulders and pooling at my feet. 

His eyes raked over me, taking in the sight of my body in the flimsy nightgown, and I could see the hunger in his gaze, the way he was fighting to keep control. 

“You’re sure about this?” he asked, his voice low and strained. 

I nodded, my hands reaching for the hem of my nightgown, pulling it up and over my head in one smooth motion, leaving me standing there in nothing but my lace underwear. His breath caught as his eyes traveled down my body, lingering on the curve of my hips, the swell of my breasts. 

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” I said, my voice trembling with need. 

He hesitated for a moment longer, then stepped closer, his hands reaching for me as he pulled me into another kiss, his lips searing against mine. I moaned into his mouth, my hands roaming over his body, feeling the muscles tense beneath my touch as I reached for the buttons of his shirt, undoing them one by one. His chest was bare beneath, the skin warm and smooth as I ran my hands over it, feeling the steady beat of his heart against my palm. 

“You’re driving me crazy,” he muttered, his voice rough as his hands found the waistband of my underwear, his fingers slipping beneath the lace and tracing the curve of my hips. 

I shivered at his touch, my body responding instinctively as I leaned into him, my hands sliding down his arms, feeling the strength in them as they gripped my waist. “Then stop thinking,” I whispered, my lips brushing against his ear. “And just *feel*.” 

His hands tightened on my hips, and I could feel the conflict in him, the way he was still holding back, still hesitating. But I didn’t want hesitation. I wanted *him*. 

I reached for the fly of his jeans, my fingers trembling as I undid the button and pulled down the zipper, my hand slipping inside and feeling the hardness straining against the fabric. 

His breath caught, his body trembling as he pressed against me, his hands gripping my hips as he buried his face in the curve of my neck. 

“You’re playing with fire,” he warned, his voice low and strained. 

I smiled, my hand tightening around him as I whispered, “Then burn with me.” 

And that’s when I felt him give in, his hands sliding up my body, his lips crashing against mine as he—

A married woman, unsatisfied by her husband's lackluster performance, invites her muscular neighbor over for a midnight tryst.

She seduces him, leading him to believe there's a plumbing emergency, and guides his hands to her wetness.

The neighbor, initially confused, gives in to her desires, leading to a passionate encounter in the bathroom.

She takes control, directing him to eat her pussy and fuck her wildly, ultimately receiving the satisfaction she craves.

I let my neighbor creampie me while my husband is sleeping

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