53

Indiana smoothed her floral apron over her modest knee-length dress, the picture of domestic perfection in her cozy suburban kitchen. 

At twenty-three, she was the neighbor everyone envied baked goods for block parties, volunteered at the local soup kitchen, always with a sweet smile and "bless your heart" for anyone in need.

 No one knew the truth, the wild undercurrent that surged when eyes turned away. Like now, with the house empty, husband at work, kids at school. The plumber was due any minute for the leaky faucet, but first her ritual.

She drifted upstairs to the master bathroom, the door clicking shut behind her. The full-length mirror waited, fog-free and merciless. Heart pounding with that familiar thrill, Indiana faced it, good-girl facade cracking.

 Fingers trembled as she unpinned her neat bun, auburn waves tumbling wild down her back. The dress buttons yielded one by one, slow and teasing, fabric whispering off her shoulders to pool at her feet. No bra today her full breasts bounced free, heavy and pale, pink nipples already stiffening in the cool air.

 Panties next, sensible white cotton soaked through at the crotch, peeling away with a sticky tug. Her juices clung in glistening strings, the musky scent blooming sharp and needy.

Naked now, she drank in the sight: curvy hips flaring wide, ass plump and heart-shaped, trimmed red bush framing puffy pussy lips swollen with arousal. Thighs quivered, inner skin slick with the cream she'd been leaking since breakfast stolen touches over cereal, fingers dipping discreetly while loading the dishwasher.

 "Look at you, you filthy thing," she whispered to her reflection, voice husky, no trace of the church-lady lilt. Hands roamed cupping breasts, thumbs flicking nipples to hard peaks, the pinch sending zings straight to her core. Downward, tracing ribs, belly, then delving between thighs.

She spread her stance, feet planted wide on the tile cold bite grounding her as hot need flared. Two fingers parted her folds, exposing the glistening pink within, clit peeking like a pearl. 

The mirror captured it all: her face flushing crimson, lips parting on a gasp as she plunged in deep. Wet squelch filled the room, juices coating her knuckles, dripping in slow rivulets down her thighs to her calves.

 She fucked herself steadily, hips rolling, free hand bracing the sink while the other curled inside, stroking that spongy spot. "Mmm, yeah, stretch that greedy pussy," she moaned, eyes locked on the erotic display tits jiggling with each thrust, ass clenching, cream frothing white at her entrance.

Faster now, thumb grinding her clit in rough circles, the slap of her palm against her mound echoing. Sweat beaded between her breasts, trickling down to her navel, the salty tang hitting her nose. 

Intrusive thoughts flashed husband never fucked her like this, never saw this slut; neighbors peeking through windows, scandalized. The mental friction coiled tighter, thighs slick and shiny, puddles forming on the floor. She came hard pussy spasming, walls clamping her fingers, a gush squirting onto the mirror in clear arcs. Legs buckled, but she rode it out, whimpering, aftershocks rippling as juices trailed fresh down her thighs.

Panting, still naked, arousal throbbing anew, she heard the doorbell chime plumber, right on time. No time to dress; the bad-girl impulse overrode sense. 

Filled with passion, not thinking, she descended the stairs, thighs slippery, pussy lips rubbing with each step, clit pulsing insistently. Door swung open, and there he stood: mid-thirties, burly with grease-stained work shirt hugging broad chest, jeans low on narrow hips, dark stubble framing a surprised grin. Mike, the plumber she'd called him before, flirted mildly over coffee while he fixed the disposal.

His eyes widened, raking her nude form: dripping thighs, heaving breasts, wild hair. "Uh... ma'am? I—"

"Shh," Indiana purred, good-girl mask shattered, stepping aside to welcome him in. She shut the door with her hip, turning to press against him, naked body molding to his clothed one. Her slick thighs smeared against his jeans, pussy grinding his thigh through denim as she rose on tiptoes, lips brushing his ear.

 The scent of him sweat, metal, faint tobacco mixed with her arousal, intoxicating. "Kitchen faucet. But first... I need you. Right here."

Mike groaned, hands hesitating then gripping her ass, fingers sinking into soft flesh, spreading her cheeks. 

"Fuck, Indiana, you're... dripping everywhere." His cock hardened instantly, thick bulge prodding her belly. She seduced with body and words, nails raking his shirt, popping buttons to expose hairy chest. "I've watched you work, imagined this fat cock splitting me open. Taste me first?" Dropping to knees on the entry rug coarse fibers scraping skin she yanked his zipper, freeing his cock: veiny monster, eight inches, uncut head beading pre-cum.

Mouth watering, she engulfed him, tongue swirling the salty tang, cheeks hollowing as she bobbed deep. Gags bubbled wetly, spit trailing chin to breasts, his hands fisting her hair. "Goddamn, such a hungry mouth." But she wanted more stood, pushing him back toward the living room couch, juices pattering on hardwood. "Sit. I ride."

He obeyed, shucking pants, cock slapping upright. Indiana straddled, thighs bracketing his, pussy hovering dripping strands connecting them.

 She sank slow, inch by inch, the stretch burning divine, walls yielding to his girth with lewd suction. "Ohhh, yes, fill me," she hissed, bottoming out, clit grinding his base. Hands on his shoulders nails digging bloody crescents she rode hard from the jump, ass slapping thighs, tits bouncing wildly. Wet smacks filled the room, her cream frothing at the join, scent pungent.

Mike thrust up, brutal, hands bruising her hips. "Ride it, you soaked slut pussy's strangling me." She ground circles, then bounced, pace frenzied, every plunge dragging her clit. Sweat slicked them, his chest hair rasping her nipples

. "Harder—fuck me like you own it!" He flipped her suddenly, bending her over couch arm ass up, face in cushions muffling screams. Re-entered savagely, balls-deep slams shaking her body, the force jiggling flesh, couch creaking protest.

Each thrust bottomed punishingly, head battering cervix, g-spot hammered relentlessly. "Take it, dirty housewife gonna wreck this cunt." Fingers found her clit, pinching, as he pounded, skin slapping echoey. Her thighs quaked, juices spraying with every withdraw, puddling beneath. Build was explosive orgasm crashed, pussy convulsing vise-like, milking him as she wailed into fabric, squirting arcs soaking his jeans.

He didn't stop flipped to missionary on floor, legs over shoulders, folding her double. Piledrived deep, carpet burn on ass, nipples twisted raw. "Cum again—squeeze my cock." She did, twice more, vision blurring, voice hoarse. Finally, he roared, burying deep hot jets flooding her, overflowing in creamy rivulets. They collapsed, panting, his weight pinning her, cock twitching inside.

Aftershocks faded slow, her good-girl world forever altered. Plumber's grin wicked. "Faucet can wait."

She nodded breathlessly, pussy still fluttering around his softening length, the mingled fluids leaking warm down her crack to pool on the rug. 

Mike pulled out with a wet pop, a thick rope of cum connecting them briefly before snapping, and she shivered at the sudden emptiness, her walls clenching reflexively. He rolled to the side, propping on an elbow to watch her sprawled naked, thighs splayed obscenely, pussy gaping slightly, red and glistening with their combined mess. The air hung heavy with sex: salty cum, her tangy cream, his musky sweat, all undercut by the faint lemon polish of the living room.

Indiana's chest heaved, nipples raw and darkened from his teeth marks, faint bruises blooming on her hips where his thumbs had dug in.

The good-girl shame flickered briefly *what if the neighbor lady drops by for sugar?* But it drowned in the sated glow, her clit still tingling with echoes. She reached down, fingers scooping the leaking cum, bringing it to her lips for a taste bitter-salt on her tongue, mixed with her sweetness. Mike growled approval, cock twitching back to half-mast already. "Fuck, you're insatiable. Didn't peg you for this under that apron."

She smirked, crawling over him, straddling his chest to feed him her fingers, watching his tongue lap them clean with a hum. "No one does. But now you know." Her pussy hovered near his mouth, dripping remnants onto his stubble, and he didn't hesitate tongue darting out to lick a stripe up her slit, savoring the cocktail. The rasp of his beard on tender folds made her hiss, hands bracing his head as she rocked forward, smearing herself on his face. "Clean me up proper, plumber man. Earn that tip."

He gripped her ass, spreading wide for deeper access, nose buried in her bush as he devoured tongue spearing her hole, sucking cum straight from the source, lips sealing around her clit for firm pulls.

 The suction pulled obscene slurps, her thighs clamping his ears, fresh arousal beading anew. She ground shamelessly, tits swaying, the mirror across the room reflecting the debauchery: her arched back, his muffled groans vibrating through her core.

 *This is me,* she thought, *the bad that simmers under sweet.* Fingers twisted in his hair, guiding him rougher, chasing another peak while his cock hardened fully against her back, hot iron on her skin.

Orgasm built lazy this time, languid rolls cresting slow her pussy fluttering, grinding down as she came with a throaty moan, flooding his mouth with fresh squirt. He drank greedily, not spilling a drop, thumbs circling her back hole teasingly.

 She slumped forward, kissing him deep tasting herself and him, tongues tangling sloppy before sliding down his body. His cock stood rigid, veined and slick from her earlier ride, and she mounted reverse this time, ass to his face for the view.

Sinking onto him inch by delicious inch, she reveled in the stretch anew, walls molding to every ridge.

 Hands on his knees for leverage, she rode reverse cowgirl ass cheeks spreading with each bounce, the lewd sight in the mirror across the way spurring her. Wet glides accelerated, her cream coating his balls, slapping rhythmically. Mike's hands roamed palming her ass, a finger circling her puckered hole, dipping shallow to test. "Ever had it here, housewife?"

"Not yet," she panted, slamming down harder, the fullness hitting deeper. "But keep fingering, and maybe today." He obliged, slick digit pushing in knuckle-deep, the dual penetration burning exquisite pussy and ass stuffed, nerves firing overload. She fucked wildly, tits flopping, hair whipping, moans unrestrained now with house empty. He thrust up, meeting her drops with hips snaps, free hand reaching around to maul her clit.

The mirror showed it all: her body glistening sweat-slick, juices stringing between bodies, face twisted in raw ecstasy. Climax barreled ass clenching his finger, pussy vise-gripping his cock, squirting messily down his shaft. "Yes—fuck yes!" He followed seconds later, pumping another load deep, the heat triggering her aftershocks.

They disentangled slow, bodies limp, but her hand strayed to his spent cock, stroking lazily back to life. Kitchen faucet forgotten, they migrated there anyway him naked now, her leading by the hand. 

Bent over the sink he'd come to fix, she spread for him doggy-style, water running cold over her back as he mounted. Slow at first, then pounding counter rattling dishes, her tits swinging into cabinet doors, yelps bouncing off tiles.

Hours blurred: couch, stairs (her riding him upward step by step), shower where soap-slick bodies slid endless. Each round harder, her bad-girl unleashed begging for slaps on her ass (red handprints blooming), hair pulled, throat fucked until drool-smeared. He obliged, passion matching hers, cock relentless.

By evening, sated at last, they parted with numbers exchanged, her naked at the door waving goodbye, cum trickling fresh down thighs. Husband due home soon she'd shower, don apron, bake cookies. Good girl restored. But the bad? Always waiting, for next time no one watched. Or when someone did.