If ever there was a book on jackasses, Roland B. Agerk would have his own series of chapters.
Agerk fucked his customers, his suppliers, his business partners and my parents, who were his neighbors. He also fucked his secretary, often, normally on Wednesday afternoon in the office but sometimes there was a quickie on the weekend at a local park.
All of this information came right from the lips of his pretty wife Stacy, a lovely woman of 35 who seemed to hate her husband. And why not, there was a whole lot to hate.
“He’s a bastard, he really lives up to his name,” slurred Mrs. B. Agerk at a recent cookout, long after her husband left for a late night “business meeting” downtown. “He’s getting a quickie from his slut of a secretary, you can bank on that. I know, because tonight he will be too tired to take care of his wife. Bastard.”
My name is Rob, and my parents have lived next door to the Agerks for 15 of my 21 years. We reside in the quiet Philly suburbs near West Chester, and I’ve grown up knowing that our neighbors had a lot of balls. Mr. Agerk, actually, because Stacy was a sweet woman who somehow married an ignoramus. A rich, successful ignoramus.
Years before Agerk added a magnificent garage on the back of his property. A foot of that garage was actually on my parent’s property, a fact found out by accident when they were getting their house appraised and surveyed for a new mortgage.
They confronted Agerk, who seemed apologetic. But a day later a strongly worded letter from his attorney, along with accompanying documentation from the survey company that they’d made an innocent error, started a downhill slide in the neighborly relationship.
Seems he was able to buy his way out of the problem by lining the survey company’s coiffeurs with cash. All of a sudden the survey company spoke about a clerical error or something.
Not wanting to spend thousands on lawyers, my parents retreated back into their shell and let Agerk have his way. As they often said, it was only a foot, not the whole yard.
In any event there wasn’t a lot of love for Mr. Agerk, and Stacy lived with his awful habits.
“But fucking his secretary is a new level,” said the scorned, tipsy woman, knocking back a light beer in the far corner at the cookout. “The others, well, they were discrete. But I swear he likes to rub his secretary in my face.”
I could not believe how open Stacy was with me, some 15 years her junior. I knew it was the booze speaking, but oh how it was speaking. The attractive woman could still turn heads, and I know several of my friends, and me too, had lusted after her for years.
This woman had a great body, not a lot up top but a spectacular ass. And her legs, well, they were almost dancer’s legs, an attribute she said was due to a thrice weekly step program at the gym. So when she opened up with intimate details I was ready, willing and able to listen.
After a listening to Stacy’s tales of indiscretions and downright nasty behavior I asked the woman why she stayed with her ass of a husband.
The story intrigued me.
“He’s a great provider, but I guess I’m so afraid of the real world. If I leave, well, I hardly get anything. There was this prenuptial agreement, you see, and I don’t get much of anything until after 20 years of marriage….and I am just seven years into that sentence. It is an iron clad agreement, I checked it out with two lawyers and there is no doubt he has me over a barrel.”
The woman looked at me and sighed. “No, I have to put up with it, but I don’t have to like it.”
I walked Stacy over to her back door later that night, seriously feeling sorry for her.
When we met at the supermarket later that week she apologized for talking so much. “You didn’t have to listen, but thanks for listening. It was good to get some things off my chest.”
The way she said that got me looking down at her, well, chest.
“Men!” she laughed. “You all think about the same thing….by the way, if you want to look me in the eyes they are way up here.”
Embarrassed, I stuttered an apology while carrying her groceries to the car.
Over the next several weeks I’d talk to the woman here and there, never as intently and honestly as we’d spoken at the cook out, but still pretty deep stuff. She really hated the way her husband was sharking his secretary.
“He’s always got some late business meeting, generally twice a week. You know, am I that disgusting that he don’t want me like he wants her?” asked the sexy woman.
“You are so beautiful, Mrs. Agerk, a real sexy lady, so I can’t imagine why he doesn’t adore you.”
“The woman smiled. You are old enough to call me Stacy if you want,” said the lady. “Besides, that’s NOT how you say my married name. It’s pronounced Aggert, not A Jerk….but thanks for the compliment. I haven’t gotten a lot of them lately.”
We shared stories over coffee. She wanted to know about my girlfriend Rochelle, who was more friend than girlfriend. “So, bahis firmaları are you two, uh, doing it?”
Stacy smiled. “You are so innocent!”
“Don’t you believe it,” I replied. I have an adventurous mind even if I haven’t gotten a lot of experience.”
I didn’t tell her about Courtney, my second girl friend. She had given me a series of blow jobs in our six months together, so it wasn’t as if I was a complete virgin.
We toyed with each other for the next 20 minutes before she excused herself to head home, but we agreed to get together later in the week, this time with me buying the coffee.
That was the beginning of our little series of meetings. Nothing sexual between us, purely talking. We’d talk about our likes and dislikes, with her always trying to pry little details about my relationships while I’d try and learn around hers.
“So why does he cheat on you, Stacy, it doesn’t make any sense. You are so pretty, you are wonderful to be with, and very, very attractive.”
She said it was about the conquest. He stole her away from a guy she was engaged to, everything was rosy. They ultimately tied the knot and had several years of what she thought was a perfect relationship.
“He always wants what he doesn’t have. If a competitor has a great client, he wants to take that client away. If a girl is pretty, he wants to have her. He has caused a couple marriages to fall apart, and he loves fresh meat. That slut secretary of his, Amber, has his attention today but in a few months she’ll be gone…with nothing but her kneepads.”
It wasn’t until she accidentally found some evidence that he had been cheating on her nearly their entire married time together that she realized what the pre-nuptial meant. She breaks things off, he gets a slap on the wrist, and she’s out on the street starting over.
“I don’t want to start over,” said the woman. “No, I turn the other cheek and live with it. It’s hard, but that’s the deal. I don’t like it, he’s an ass, but he’s my meal ticket for now I guess.”
Stacy had such a forlorn look about her. She thought she was signing on to a wonderful life, and while it wasn’t bad it was kind of awful. She admitted to sleeping with the man, having sex with him…sometimes the same night he had seen someone else.
“That is so degrading, he uses her then he uses me. But if I don’t let him do me he gets violent, He has hit me, and he’s constantly talking about throwing my fat ass out of the house,” said the woman who definitely didn’t have a fat ass. “He has friends in high places, he can get out of things. I can’t. I’m property, his personal whore.”
Somehow, I’d say something to cheer up the woman, get her mind off her problems I was just happy to be with her, talking, joking, whatever. She became sort of a big sister to me, the big beautiful sister you lust after.
On more than one night after we’d share stories I’d lie in bed and think about the lovely lady. It wasn’t long before I’d have visions of her and I in bed, making passionate love. I’d go down on her, kiss her all over, and make sweet love in an assortment of rooms in her big house.
But that wasn’t reality. What was real was that she was much older than me and married. I was merely a little play toy to talk with. Or was I?
Sometimes I had these naughty thoughts about her. Normally, they would come when I’d see her in a particularly attractive outfit, or when I was frustrated from Rochelle sticking to her “no touching down there” philosophy of dating.
Stacy was sympathetic to my plight, saying that things would move on when “it was time.” She told me of her college days where every boy she dated wanted sex first and a relationship second.
“It was downright awful, like I was a piece of meat. And not just me, all the girls in the dorm who were in the dating mode were treated that way. And why not? Some of the coeds were, simply put, sluts. They’d sleep with anyone.”
Out conversations became more frequent, as we’d meet at least twice a week for coffee or a snack. Always in the open, there was nothing behind anyone’s back. Although Rochelle was somewhat pissed that I’d be spending time with a “geezer” like Stacy.
It was after a frustrating date with Rochelle that I got a call from Stacy. “What were you and Rochelle arguing about tonight at dinner,” asked my neighbor.
I stuttered something, but mostly wanted to know how she knew?
“Dummy! I was sitting across the restaurant with a couple girl friends, and was going to come over and introduce myself to Rochelle when I realized you two were not exactly getting along….what was up?
Pausing, I wasn’t sure what to say. But soon I came out with it. “She doesn’t like me spending time with you, she says it’s wrong….you know, you being married and so old, I mean, older than me. I tried to tell her we were neighbors, friends, but she said I’d have to stop spending time with you.
“It is either her or you, as far as she is concerned.”
There kaçak iddaa was a pause on the line. Then Stacy told me it was fine, we didn’t need to see each other. Probably wrong of her to spend so much time with me.
“But I enjoy it, I like you, I like talking with you.”
“You are so sweet,” replied the woman. “But we will have to cool it. You know, so you can work it out with Rochelle.”
After hanging up the phone, I felt totally awful. But it was the right thing to do.
The next few weeks were a bit of a whirlwind time, between classes, dates with Rochelle (never satisfying, she was actually quite boorish) and studying.
Putting Stacy out of my mind I concentrated on all the other aspects of my life….except late at night when I’d masturbate while thinking of my lovely neighbor. I’d do her over a couch, in the car, you name it. I had a wild imagination, that’s for sure.
Then I received a frantic call from Stacy as afternoon turned to evening.
“The bastard is fucking her in my house,” she cried. “Right now…”
I asked what in the world she was talking about. The sordid story brought my blood to a boil. Agerk was a jerk, obviously, but to bring home his secretary and screw her in his wife’s bed was a little over the top.
Apparently Stacy had a late day hair appointment, but the stylist was ill and had to cancel. Instead of switching over to someone new she rescheduled, did a little shopping, and headed home.
From the hallway near the front door she heard noises from upstairs, and upon further review saw her husband in the act of doggie fucking his secretary.
“She was moaning and groaning, I mean, there was every noise coming out of her but a bark,” spat the scorned woman. “I should have thrown water on them. I should have went in and pulled her hair and confronted her, but I didn’t want the confrontation and all that went with it.
“I just watched them in disbelief for a smidge and then left; they are still in there rutting like animals, and I am calling from down the street. I needed someone to listen.”
Looking across from my room I noticed the bedroom curtains were wide open. I spirited up to our attic, and from the window on the side I could look directly down to their bedroom.
Wow, Stacy was correct. The two were indeed fucking on the matrimonial bed! The girl’s legs were high in the air and Mr. Agerk was in between doing push ups.
I made a note to myself to look down into the other house more often! It was so very erotic watching the coupling, I’d never seen anything like it except on the internet…and this was so much better. So real, he was banging her like no tomorrow and she was taking every thrust.
Thinking fast, I called Stacy back. “He is such an ass, I am so sorry,” was all I could think of saying. “Take a deep breath. You knew he was doing her, so nothing new there, and it is probably not the first time he’s done it at your house.”
The line was quiet for a minute before I heard her muffled voice. “Yes, but in my bed,” said the woman, starting to cry. I couldn’t get a word in edgewise, but knew I’d make that bastard pay.
I ran down the street and joined a crying Stacy in her car. She composed herself enough to drive down to the shopping center where we talked about going into a local coffee house but changed our minds and stayed in the car. Soon the woman finally stopped sobbing.
“Yes, I knew he was screwing around but not in my house, not in my bedroom, not in my own bed,” said the finally composed woman. “I will get him back for this….”
Nodding, I told her she mustn’t do anything rash. “There are ways of getting him back without getting yourself into trouble.”
She quizzically looked at me. “How?”
It was now or never. Looking around, I motioned her closer. “Let’s do it, let’s do it in his bed.”
Stacy stared at me and then a smile crept to her lips.
“Now that would be ironic, wouldn’t it,” said the woman, a smile not creeping to her lips. “That would be something. What is good for the goose is good for the gander….but….you are so young. And what about Rochelle?”
Becoming Mr. Knowitall, I had the answer. “Yes, but I can keep it between us. Besides, you are so very attractive and sexy. I want you. I masterbate to you nearly every night. And don’t worry about Rochelle, that’s not going anywhere.”
The mature married woman looked towards the floor and murmured: “You mean I’m not an old hag? You think I’m pretty?”
Telling the woman she was beautiful was easy, because she really was. And I was so attracted to her, she was clearly out of my league. Explaining how I’d come home from a date with Rochelle and satisfy myself thinking about someone else…her.
“I can’t believe it, you think of me when you are horny.”
Nodding, I told her of how I’d think of her in all kinds of compromising positions, doing all kinds of naughty things.
The woman reached over to my thighs, then snaked her hand higher. kaçak bahis Soon she met my erection. “Is this for me?”
“You bet it is. Absolutely it is for you.”
Pausing, partly thinking things over in her mind I’m sure, she made a bold request.
“Take it out, let me see it!”
What a woman wants, a woman gets, and there, in the shopping lot parking lot I looked around then bared by cock for the woman. Again Stacy reached over, but this time she grasp my cock. Slowly she stroked it, jerking me carefully.
“It’s a great cock, you are so hard,” said the woman, who admitted mine was the first cock she’d handled since marriage. “Sometimes it takes him forever to get hard, but you are so hard so fast…I think I like your idea….And you’re sure you can keep it out secret? You won’t tell anyone?”
Moaning a yes, I closed my eyes and enjoyed her stroking. I’d like to say how I was a bull and banged her right there in the car, but that wouldn’t be true. I sat and loved her hand action, stroking that within a couple minutes had me shooting off in her hand.
“Oh, Mrs. Agerk, uh Stacy, oh yes, yes, yes.”
The woman stroked me off with practiced hand, something she admitted was from memory as it was her first hand job given in decades. She worked her hand up and down my dick, causing me to close my eyes and enjoy the hand job.
However long, she hadn’t forgotten anything. She had me cumming in minutes and knew how to slowly stroke my cock after it had erupted. My man sauce went up, all over my shirt and her hand.
But what really made it for me was her action after she told me to put my cock away and button up. She raised her hand to her mouth and licked some of the sticky residue from her fingers.
“Oh, you taste so good,” said the woman, a lady old enough to be my mother. “I think I will kiss my husband when I get home! That is, if his slut is gone. Hopefully she is because otherwise there will be hell to pay.”
We drove back toward our houses and she dropped me at the corner. I walked toward the houses and saw her enter her colonial. No screaming followed, so I suspected her husband’s girlfriend had left.
That night I couldn’t help myself. I jerked off, thinking of her kissing her husband with my cum still gracing her mouth. Oh that was hot. I went upstairs and attempted to look across the way into the bedroom but the shades had been drawn.
Somehow it was two days until we could find ourselves away from prying eyes enough to talk.
“He gave me a hair-brained story about having to work Saturday, so if you want to come over….”
“You bet I do.”
“It’s a date!” said the married woman. ‘Oh, he wanted a blow job when I got home the other night. Do you believe the nerve? I sucked him off, he couldn’t cum and we know why we don’t…but before I went down on him I planted a big kiss on the bastard. He was swapping not only spit with me but your cum. I had to smile when I blew him.”
Saturday couldn’t come fast enough. The days were a blur as I thought about the sexy woman. I wanted to make love to her, use her, take her every way I could. But I wanted to be gentle, she deserved that.
In the end I surmised that I should do whatever she wanted. She was the scorned one here. I was a guy who was going to live out a dream, winning the lottery for her behind. Oh, it was so exciting, but I reminded myself to make sure she liked everything we did.
After all, she was forced to stay with her SOB husband. I was going to be a play toy, and that’s okay by me.
I showered, dressed casually, and sleuthed my way to Stacy’s house after watching The Mister leave for “work” at 10. It was a good thing my parents had left on a shopping trip, so slipping between yards and onto the neighbor’s porch away from spying eyes was simple.
Tapping the back door, my eyes widened when I saw Mrs. Agerk. She was adorable, dressed in a slinky see through robe that displayed the red baby doll nightie underneath. I detected a garter belt holding up red stockings, the first time I’d seen a real woman rather than photos of women wearing the silky nothings.
“Wow!” I exclaimed. “You look beautiful.”
We locked the doors, hoping that if he came home early we’d hear him. We made out for a minute in the foyer before pulling each other upstairs to the master bedroom. “He said he’d be back this afternoon, but I don’t want to chance him catching us. Besides, I need you right now.”
We went, hand in hand, up to the second floor and into the bedroom. The drapes were drawn, showing she was a lot smarter than her husband. Soon we were standing and kissing each other like long lost lovers. Her lips, well, her lips were luscious. Sensitive. Sexy.
She reached down. “I wondered what was poking me on the thigh. Now I know….I have been waiting for this and I need it bad.”
My oh my oh my. The woman’s words were music to my ears.
Removing her robe I stood back and looked at her wonderful outfit. She was indeed beautiful, and the flimsy nightie left little to the imagination. I noticed her panties were worn over her garter straps and I asked if that was normal since the photos of girls wearing similar outfits were under the straps.