The air was thick, the kind of heat that clung to your skin no matter how much you tried to ignore it. I lay on the bed, the fan overhead doing little more than pushing the warm air around in lazy circles. My husband, shirtless and sprawled beside me, shifted closer, his hand brushing my thigh. He tried to pull me into him, but I could feel it—or rather, not feel it. His body wasn’t responding like it used to. It wasn’t the first time, and the frustration in his eyes was impossible to miss. I stayed silent, not wanting to make it worse, but my own body was restless, thrumming with an ache that refused to be ignored.I got up without a word, padding to the kitchen for a glass of cold water. The tiles felt cool under my bare feet, a small relief from the oppressive heat. As I filled the glass, I glanced out the window. That’s when I saw him—Marco, our neighbor. He was bent over, working on something by his gate. His shirt was off, his torso slick with sweat that caught the sunlight in a way that made my breath catch. He straightened up, wiping his brow, and suddenly his eyes met mine. I froze, glass halfway to my lips, but I didn’t look away. He smiled—a slow, knowing grin that sent a shiver down my spine. Damn it. I told myself to stop, told myself to walk back to the bedroom, but my feet had other ideas. Before I knew it, I was stepping outside, the heat wrapping around me like a second skin. I tried to act casual, holding my glass of water like it was the most natural thing in the world.“Need any help?” I called out, my voice steady despite the way my heart was pounding.Marco turned, that same smirk playing on his lips. “You sure you’re not the one needing help?”I felt my cheeks burn, but I didn’t deny it. There was something in the way he looked at me—like he could see right through my careful composure, like he knew exactly what I was thinking. “Maybe,” I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper.He stepped closer, the air between us crackling with unspoken tension. “Then come inside,” he said, gesturing toward his house.I hesitated for a moment, glancing back toward our home. My husband was still in the bedroom, oblivious. The pull was too strong to resist. I followed Marco inside, the scent of sweat and soap hitting me as I crossed the threshold. He closed the door behind us, the sound making my stomach knot.He moved closer, his hand brushing my waist as he backed me against the wall. His touch was gentle but firm, and I could feel the heat radiating off him. My pulse quickened as his other hand trailed down my arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.“This what you’ve been missing?” he murmured, his voice low and rough.I opened my mouth to answer, but no words came out. Instead, I nodded, my breath shallow as his fingers brushed against the hem of my shorts. My skin was on fire, every nerve ending alight with anticipation.“Good,” he said, leaning in closer until his lips were just inches from mine. “Because I’ve been thinking about this for a while.”His breath was warm against my skin, and I could feel myself leaning into him, drawn by some invisible force I couldn’t fight. His lips brushed my neck, sending a jolt of electricity through me, and I gasped softly, my hands gripping his shoulders for support.“Shh,” he whispered, his fingers teasing the edge of my waistband. “Let’s see how quiet you can be.”I bit my lip, trying to silence the moan that threatened to escape, but it was hard—so hard—when every touch felt this intense...My mind raced even as my body pressed closer to his. I could hear my husband’s distant laugh from next door, a stark contrast to the dangerous game I was playing. Marco’s fingers paused at the button of my shorts...

The air was thick, the kind of heat that clung to your skin no matter how much you tried to ignore it. I lay on the bed, the fan overhead doing little more than pushing the warm air around in lazy circles. My husband, shirtless and sprawled beside me, shifted closer, his hand brushing my thigh. He tried to pull me into him, but I could feel it—or rather, _not_ feel it. His body wasn’t responding like it used to. It wasn’t the first time, and the frustration in his eyes was impossible to miss. I stayed silent, not wanting to make it worse, but my own body was restless, thrumming with an ache that refused to be ignored.

I got up without a word, padding to the kitchen for a glass of cold water. The tiles felt cool under my bare feet, a small relief from the oppressive heat. As I filled the glass, I glanced out the window. That’s when I saw him—Marco, our neighbor. He was bent over, working on something by his gate. His shirt was off, his torso slick with sweat that caught the sunlight in a way that made my breath catch. He straightened up, wiping his brow, and suddenly his eyes met mine. I froze, glass halfway to my lips, but I didn’t look away. 

He smiled—a slow, knowing grin that sent a shiver down my spine. _Damn it._ I told myself to stop, told myself to walk back to the bedroom, but my feet had other ideas. Before I knew it, I was stepping outside, the heat wrapping around me like a second skin. I tried to act casual, holding my glass of water like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Need any help?” I called out, my voice steady despite the way my heart was pounding.

Marco turned, that same smirk playing on his lips. “You sure *you’re* not the one needing help?”

I felt my cheeks burn, but I didn’t deny it. There was something in the way he looked at me—like he could see right through my careful composure, like he knew exactly what I was thinking. 

“Maybe,” I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper.

He stepped closer, the air between us crackling with unspoken tension. “Then come inside,” he said, gesturing toward his house.

I hesitated for a moment, glancing back toward our home. My husband was still in the bedroom, oblivious. The pull was too strong to resist. I followed Marco inside, the scent of sweat and soap hitting me as I crossed the threshold. He closed the door behind us, the sound making my stomach knot.

He moved closer, his hand brushing my waist as he backed me against the wall. His touch was gentle but firm, and I could feel the heat radiating off him. My pulse quickened as his other hand trailed down my arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

“This what you’ve been missing?” he murmured, his voice low and rough.

I opened my mouth to answer, but no words came out. Instead, I nodded, my breath shallow as his fingers brushed against the hem of my shorts. My skin was on fire, every nerve ending alight with anticipation.

“Good,” he said, leaning in closer until his lips were just inches from mine. “Because I’ve been thinking about this for a while.”

His breath was warm against my skin, and I could feel myself leaning into him, drawn by some invisible force I couldn’t fight. His lips brushed my neck, sending a jolt of electricity through me, and I gasped softly, my hands gripping his shoulders for support.

“Shh,” he whispered, his fingers teasing the edge of my waistband. “Let’s see how quiet you can be.”

I bit my lip, trying to silence the moan that threatened to escape, but it was hard—so hard—when every touch felt this intense...

My mind raced even as my body pressed closer to his. I could hear my husband’s distant laugh from next door, a stark contrast to the dangerous game I was playing. Marco’s fingers paused at the button of my shorts...

A woman, frustrated by her husband's inability to perform, seeks solace in the arms of their attractive neighbor, Marco. The encounter is intense and passionate, driven by the heat of the day and the forbidden nature of their tryst.

I let my neighbor fuck me because my husband couldn't get hard

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