Ass Out for the Fat Married Neighbor

Freshie’s parents left for some Halloween dinner thing two hours ago. Won’t be back till late. She told them she was staying in, watching movies, being good. That was the plan.

Except she’s been staring at the neighbor’s house since they left. Mr. Dalton. The one with the soft gut and the thinning hair who waves at her dad over the fence every weekend. Married. Not even close to good-looking. She knows exactly how stupid this is. She’s only 18, he’s got a wife who works nights, and he looks like he hasn’t seen a gym since before she was born. Still, the second she thought about him seeing her in these PJs she got stupid wet.

She texted him from the porch earlier. Said the breaker tripped and she didn’t want to mess with it alone while her parents were out. He said he’d come check it. Didn’t even ask why she couldn’t just wait. Now she’s on the bed exactly like this—knees wide, pumpkin shorts yanked so low her whole ass is hanging out, ruffles doing nothing, soles of her feet pointed straight at the door. Top barely covering anything. The thin fabric between her legs is soaked through and sticking to her. She keeps rocking her hips in slow little circles, clit throbbing, hating how bad she wants him.

She knows she shouldn’t. Knows he’s soft under that polo, knows his wife would kill them both, knows her dad would lose his mind if he ever found out. None of it stops the way her pussy clenches every time she pictures him walking in and seeing her like this. Looking back over her shoulder with that wide-eyed, freckled face while some out-of-shape married guy from next door stares at her bare ass and the wet mess she’s made of herself.

The knock hits and her stomach flips.

She stays right where she is. Just turns her head more, voice soft and breathy when she calls out:

“Door’s unlocked… parents won’t be home for hours. I’m in the bedroom.”

Heavy steps in the hallway. The door opens. She can already picture him in the doorway—soft belly, wedding ring still on, eyes locked on the way these stupid ghost shorts are pulled down past her ass, on how her feet are flexed and ready, on the wet spot she’s been grinding into the sheets.

“Fuck,” she whispers, almost to herself, before glancing back one more time. “These keep falling down… you gonna stand there or come fix it before my parents get home?”