My First (Thigh Job)

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I lost my virginity between the flexed and toned thighs of my neighbor’s trophy wife Brittany. Here’s the tale:

I had just returned home for the summer after my first year of college. It was quite the time, and I was still coming off the gleam of those freshman-year college parties and all the drunken debauchery that came with them — I experienced it all except for losing my virginity. But nothing had prepared me for the encounter that awaited me that first month back home.

Like most summers — since my sophomore high school days — I had made a little extra cash by mowing yards.

My main source of income came from Ralph Lennaro’s across the street from my parent’s house.

Mr. Lennaro was a good neighbor if you prefer your neighbor to be a workaholic stockbroker of thirty years. He was veteran yuppie personified: a glutton of a man ravaged by the excess of his younger years, but still kicked along in his late middle-aged years. Mr. Lennaro wasn’t afraid to show his money, either. He had the biggest house on the block, the most expensive sports cars, and as if that cliche wasn’t enough, he even had a hot trophy wife whom I only knew as Brittany. They were already married two years by the time I returned home for the summer. Ironically, I never really noticed her that much, except for wondering how a red-faced blob-like Mr. Lennaro could land a girl like Brittany other than with his wallet.

Unlike her husband, Brittany had the most athletically toned body I had ever seen. She was no more than twenty-six, worked out regularly, and if I were lucky as I took the garbage out, would always greet me with a smile on her morning jog. The body itself was tight and well-built with a healthy sun-kissed glow of a tan. Her hair was bleached blonde, straight and long, and if she looked at you, there came a twinkle of silver from her hazel eyes. Even at a distance, you could tell Brittany lifted, but not to the point of losing her toned female figure.

Brittany’s most defining feature, though, was her legs. Every muscle, starting from her quads and hamstrings to the round and firm glutes of her ass, was more robust and defined than the rest of her well-cut body. Especially her thighs which were probably the same width and depth as my naturally lithe torso (and I can’t believe I just called my torso that). I was never much of a leg guy, but I could look at Brittany’s all day long.

When I began my summer of mowing Mr. Lennaro’s grass every few days, she barely paid attention to me. Not saying that she should, either. I was a nineteen-year-old college kid mowing lawns. I worked out but had more of a lanky “track and field” body compared to the fitness model-type of physique Brittany was going for.

My second week in, however, that all changed.

It was a hot and humid day in Venuz Beach, Florida, and I had taken off my shirt to cope with the mugginess. I had just finished Mr. Lennaro’s front yard and was moving into the back.

As I made my passes, I couldn’t help but see that Brittany was looking out the sliding glass door watching me. When I finally mustered enough attention to look directly at her, I was greeted by a slight wave. It was the same wave-and-smile she’d greet me with every Wednesday morning on her jogs. I grinned and returned the gesture.

Nothing wrong with being neighborly, I guess.

After a few more passes, I looked up to find her walking out to me, carrying a glass of lemonade. Her violet-colored spandex shorts clung tightly to her bulged quads and her white tank top was loose, blowing in the hot wind to where I could see her pressed up cleavage.

“You look like you need to cool off,” Brittany said, smiling.

I turned off the lawnmower, smiled, and took the glass. “Appreciate it.”

The sip from the lemonade was a little sweet, but cold so it helped. A moment of silence came between us before she spoke.

“We haven’t properly met, I’m Brittany,” she said.

“Sage,” I replied, growing a little flushed in the cheeks.

I hated giving the flower child name my ex-hippie parents gave me. But when I finally told Brittany my name, she grew excited.

She gently shook my hand, her eyes carrying that silver little twinkle from the afternoon sun.

“Ralph tells me you live across the street?”

“Yeah. I’m back home from college for the summer.”

“Oh really? Fun times! I miss those days. Enjoy them while you can.”

“Thanks, that’s what everyone keeps saying, so I’ll do my best,” I joked.

“Well, if you ever need to get out of the heat, feel free to come inside.”


She smiled, nodded, and walked back for the glass door. As she turned, pointing that perky firm ass my way, I couldn’t help but lock eyes onto it before moving down to her thighs. mersinescort Those legs were killing me! Even behind her jogging shorts, I could see the definition of her hamstrings, the muscular thickness of her thighs that rolled back up to that shapely ass. Everything was balanced, and I remember thinking how it would be to place my palm against one of those cheeks and just squeeze, maybe bend her over, and…

My lustful thoughts were cut short when Brittany suddenly looked back over her shoulder at me. I stood there like an idiot, caught red-handed, with my face frozen in shock at what she was going to say. I kept telling myself that I was not just going to lose my cash for the summer, but I was going to be seen as the “block perv” who blatantly stares at the asses of housewives.

However, all my anxiety washed away when Brittany smiled again my way and continued inside.

The days that followed felt as if she was sending me signals. Every time I finished the front yard and began work in the back; she was there. Sometimes Brittany would be watching from the kitchen window and wouldn’t stop until I looked her way and waved. Other times she’d be working out on the patio, doing her lunges in that pair of purple spandex shorts. I couldn’t help but look, and it grew to the point where I wouldn’t even care if Brittany caught me — it became obvious she didn’t mind. Most of the time when Brittany finished her lunges, she’d do her stretches next. It was almost bordering on the edge of her teasing me as her hands touched the patio and pointed that ass of hers my way.

As the days went by and the more exercises she did in front of me, the more tempted I felt to go inside and “cool off”.

The next week, I was going through the swipes with the lawnmower when I saw the back kitchen door open and watched Brittany step out. My eyes nearly fell from my skull when I saw what she was wearing — a low-cut, yellow tank top clinging snugly to her body.

The thin piece of cloth did its purpose by showing off her toned stomach and belly button ring, as well as her endowed triple D-cup breasts (fake ones but expensively well-done) that were pushed together. Below that she wore a pair of low-cut white denim shorts — Daisy-Duke-style with the pant legs cut so short they could pass for panties or a bikini bottom.

By then I didn’t care if I was looking longer than expected. Brittany was hot. Brittany knew she was hot. And she had no shame in showing off her body toward me.

“You look like you need to cool off,” she said.

“Yeah, a little. The humidity today is terrible.”

She nodded, watching my eyes fall to her plump tanned breasts that looked like they could just pop out of her tank top any second.

“You can come inside for a little bit; I might need your help with a little minor fix of something.”

“Sure, no problem.”

Questioning why my cock stiffened right then and there, I followed her inside and into the kitchen. The cool wave of AC that washed over me was nearly as good as seeing the outline of Brittany’s meaty ass cheeks curve inward into her thick hamstrings. My dick grew even harder watching Brittany bend over, taking a glance into the refrigerator, that I had to turn away and look around.

The kitchen was how I’d expected Mr. Lennaro to have: an all-white kitchen with sleek black appliances and marble countertops. Through the opening of the doorway, I could see an empty living room with a similar white-on-black set up with leather couches and an enormous entertainment center.

Once Brittany returned me another glass of her sugary lemonade, she leaned up against the counter. The muscles in her quads shifted, flexing just a little bit more as her tight body fell back, and watched me drink.

“Ralph and I are very grateful to have you come and mow our lawn.”

“Mmmm,” I said, cringing and waving off the compliment. Pulling the glass from my lips, I added, “Oh, no problem. I need the money, and no one wants to hire a college kid a quarter-way way already into the summer, y’know?”

Brittany smiled and nodded. That’s when I watched her own eyes look me over.

I wore a pair of old grass-stained jogging shoes and blue basketball shorts that didn’t do much to hide my long and floppy cock. It always “grew” the hotter it got outside and the more I moved, but never “hardened” unless I stroked it. It was my most puzzling organ and has gotten me in trouble once or twice before. Merely by prudish, bible belt moralists while in public places like a restaurant or park. I’d be questioned left and right, ever since puberty. I’ve been accused of not wearing underwear or boxers; one old man even cited me for purposely showing it off in front of his seventy-two-year-old wife while I waited in line behind yenişehir escort them at my favorite breakfast place.

When Brittany finally looked back up to me, giving me just a Mona Lisa smile, she said, “you gotta girlfriend?”

I gave her a truthful no and said that I came up short in my year at Augustana University.

“You’re smart, then,” she added. “I wish I could go back to college.”

“What happened?”

“Too much sex and creating this body than studying, to be honest,” she said bluntly.

The silence fell between us again. My eyes fell again. Those legs…those legs…

That’s when I heard something unzippering. I looked right back to find Brittany pulling the down zipper of her denim shorts. They slipped just below her hips, exposing a small line of pubic hair above her pussy. She then leaned back into the countertop, resting her elbows, and smiled at me.

My body flushed with numbness. It was a moment of fantasy becoming reality. How could I say no? My hopes sank, though, when I looked up at the clock and saw that it read five-thirty. Mr. Lennaro usually came home around four-forty-five on Fridays. That didn’t bother Brittany. She approached me, getting close enough that our noses almost touched.

As I looked her in the eyes, I felt a toned right thigh press in between my legs and slid up against my hardening cock.

“I married too early,” she said. “I’m bored here, you know. I see you, working hard, sweating…watching me…”

I laughed nervously, my whole body flaring up in warmth; my cock, slumping over her thigh.

“Maybe you can fix my boredom,” she said.

“I, uh…,” She pressed her thigh deeper in between my legs and a wave rippled from my scrotum to my erect cock. “Mr. Lenn– I mean, your husband, he’s coming back soon.”

Brittany just grinned. “And?”

She then leaned fully into me, kissed me on the lips, and leaned back.

“We can do it,” Brittany whispered. “I can make it quick, trust me.”

After a moment of pause and heavy breathing, we threw ourselves at each other and frantically kissed in a horny tizzy.

I walked her across the kitchen until we were stopped by the countertop. Cupping my hands around her tan and dense butt cheek, my thin biceps flexed, and I lifted her.

Brittany was surprisingly lighter than I expected, feeling more petite than toned. Her ass planted on the edge of the counter with my grasped hands still under her. She kissed hard with her lips that were soft and warm. As Brittany wrapped her legs around my waist, I pulled her closer to feel the hardening of nipples against my chest. From her lips, I moved my mouth down to her chin and along her neck and collarbone. Her heavy breathing moistened my earlobe and only made me more slid it inside her.

My hands did the one thing they wanted to do since I first saw her and that had run them up and down her thighs. The skin was like velvet silk — smooth and taut over her defined muscles. After I got my fill, I ran them right up her yellow tank top and squeezed down on her breasts. The tightening of my fingers could barely grasp all the fat and silicone underneath. The feeling of my hands squeezing her tits made Brittany’s hazel eyes widen, gasping in shock but quickly smiling. Her legs held my hips tight toward her waist and she began to rub her clothed pussy against my cock. Our kissing continued with my lips moving inward from her shoulder.

Hold up, hold up, not down here,” she said as I kissed up and down her neck, “come upstairs with me.”

I nodded, feeling her legs let me go. My hands fell back from under her tank top, and I stepped back. Setting her white-painted toes onto the pearl tile, she grabbed my hand and fled the kitchen.

The intensity of my erect cock throbbed throughout my body.

It was as if every little movement and sound that led to the bathroom just increased my desire — the flee from the kitchen, the silence of her big and empty home, the soft tap of Brittany’s bare feet atop the white carpet, and her ass muscles bouncing every time she took another step up.

When we entered the dark master bedroom, she led me around the bed, and into a square and roomy bathroom.

Covered in a light blueish tint from the blinds covering the afternoon sun, I quickly closed the door behind me.

Before she could even turn to face me, I pressed my crotch and dick against her round ass and cupped both hands on her tits. As I began to dry hump against her skimpy denim, Brittany’s breathes grew heavy, bordering on moaning when the hardness of my penis pressed in vertically between her plump ass cheeks. My lips pecked at her neck, reaching her collarbone, and ending with a nibble.

The move made her legs wobble. Brittany sucked toroslar escort in a breath and clutched her hand onto my thigh. I could feel her nails through my shorts, which pulled away, and frantically slid under my pant leg to reach for my hidden cock.

“Fuck me…fuck me hard and quick,” she whispered to me.

I answered her by pulling my hands from her tits to her shorts. My slim thumbs hooked inside the denim, and I yanked them down to her hips. They fell the rest of the way down by themselves, falling to her ankles, in which she pulled a foot out and kicked them aside. With her bare ass in front of me for the first time, I watched as Brittany backed up into my throbbing cock.

“Fuck me hard and quick and don’t stop,” she said again.

Pulling down my shorts, I cupped her ass with both palms. The firmness of her muscles flexed as I pushed my cock up into her, feeling the wetness of her pussy grab it. The sudden tightness gripped the head and I continued to push until it ached the shaft. Brittany began to moan, arching her back and stood upright as I gave those first tender opening thrusts. Each time I pushed deeper, letting the weight of her own body fall atop my penis. Placing my hands on her hips, I held her body into mine and pushed her slowly down until her pussy lips gripped my entire cock.

Brittany’s body melted into mine as she leaned back and wrapped an arm under my chin and placed the hand atop my head. That’s when she began to rotate her hips around my cock, breathing more heavily with each completed turn.

“Fuck me hard, fuck me hard and quick! He’ll be home anytime now!” she whispered.

Brittany added to this by twerking her ass back and forth faster. Her quickening pace outweighed mine, and eventually, I just stood there, holding her by hips as she bounced up and down on my cock.

That’s when she said it again: “fuck me hard and quick, fuck me hard and quick! He’ll be home anytime now.”

Rippling sensations tickled and rolled down my cock; our bodies slapped into each other as the pops bounced off the pearly white walls.

“Come on, fuck me!” she demanded.

The tightening of her arm around my head brought me back from just standing there and enjoying it. I let go of her hips and she bent right over. My penetrated cock bent down with her, giving me a more horizontal path to begin thrusting my hips in and out. Brittany continued to twerk her ass just as my cock pulled backward on each thrust. I didn’t care that Mr. Lennaro might find us; I knew I wasn’t going to stop until I exploded.

“Ooooooo…let me know when…let me know!” Brittany demanded more frantically.

I nodded, breathing heavily as she slapped her cheeks into my lap. The rolling sensation of my first oncoming orgasm through actual sex followed.

“Okay…okay,” I panted.

Brittany yanked her ass forward and my swelling cock pulled out of her pussy wet and shiny. From the amount of porno, I watched up to that point, my original intention was to grab my cock and finish myself over her ass cheeks. Brittany had other plans. She suddenly raised her heels and -reversed that firm ass back into me again. As the soft ass cheeks pressed against my stomach, my penis lodged between her flexed thighs. Brittany then squeezed her toned legs, pinching my hard cock between them. My breath cut short from the sensation. I clasped my hands around her tits again, my chin finding a spot on her shoulder. The rush to cum grew pushed from my lower back to my scrotum and shot straight up to the tip.

Cum blasted out with intensity, more than I had ever felt or seen before. It shot clear across to the other side of the bathroom. As it came out again, Brittany’s lower body flexed, and I felt the muscles in her ass tense up. I moaned louder than expected as she gently shifted her pressed thighs up and down, keeping my cock sandwiched between her inner loins. These simple movements made me blast out cum three more times, eventually reducing it to a meager fountain that eventually glazed the inside of Brittany’s thighs.

Once she opened her legs, I stepped back, feeling a rush of dizziness that mixed with total pleasure. We stood there still for another few seconds, just breathing and letting the ecstasy fade away.

Brittany then told me to head back downstairs while she cleaned up. The last thing I saw was her bent over the bathroom sink, looking herself over in the mirror, and that outline of her well-toned body in the afternoon light.

I quickly finished the final passes of the backyard, waddling like a penguin in my passing, and still feeling the blissful effects of the orgasm. Once finished I rolled the lawnmower back out front to find Mr. Lennaro just stepping out of his sleek black SUV. We connected eyes briefly, my look of apprehension meeting his expression of work exhaustion. He gave me a defeated wave and walked inside; he didn’t even say hi.

All the money in the world couldn’t pay for what I experienced that afternoon with my neighbor’s wife.

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