Encounter with my neighbor

Friday afternoon arrived with the slow, heavy heat that settled over the colony after lunch. I spent the morning preparing. Fresh shave, the breast forms warmed and settled into a tight cream blouse that pushed them high, a soft peach sari that clung when I walked, high heels, anklets, bangles, the small nose ring. Full makeup—arched brows, kohl, deep rose lipstick. When I looked in the mirror I looked like any other married woman in the staff colony, only softer, more deliberate.
She opened the door before I could knock. Behind her, in the living room, sat another woman in her late thirties—dark hair in a simple knot, a plain cotton sari the colour of wet sand, a small gold nose ring of her own. The accounts officer’s wife. She looked up when I entered and her eyes moved over me slowly, taking in the breast forms, the way the sari draped, the careful makeup. Something flickered in her expression—recognition, curiosity, and a quiet hunger she did not bother to hide.
“This is the new junior engineer,” my neighbour said, voice light. “I told you she would look pretty.”
The other woman stood and offered her hand. When our fingers touched I let my thumb press once against her palm the same way I had done on the stairs weeks ago. She felt it. Her lips parted slightly.
We sat. Tea was poured. Conversation stayed careful at first—colony gossip, the weather, children’s school fees. But the air in the room had already changed. My neighbour’s husband was at the plant on a long shift. The accounts officer was away on an audit until Monday. The three of us were alone.
After the second cup my neighbour set her saucer down and looked at the other woman.
“Show her,” she said simply.
The accounts officer’s wife hesitated only a moment. Then she stood, untied the knot of her petticoat, and let the fabric fall. Underneath she wore nothing. Her cunt was already glistening. She stepped out of the sari completely, leaving only the blouse and the nose ring, and came to stand in front of me.
I reached out and ran my fingers up the inside of her thigh. She was wetter than I expected. When I slid two fingers into her she made a small sound and gripped my shoulder. My neighbour watched, eyes dark, while I fucked the other woman slowly with my hand, thumb circling her clit, until her knees weakened.
We moved to the bedroom without speaking.
The accounts officer’s wife lay back first. I settled between her legs and tasted her while my neighbour stripped me—sari, blouse, the soft panty—until I was left in only the breast forms, the heels, the jewelry and the makeup. When I lifted my head the other woman was staring at my cock, hard and leaking against my stomach. She reached for it without hesitation.
My neighbour guided me forward. I pushed into the accounts officer’s wife in one long stroke, watching her mouth open as she took every inch. She was tight, hotter than expected, and she wrapped her legs around me at once. I fucked her with deep, steady thrusts while my neighbour straddled her face, lowering her cunt onto the other woman’s mouth. The wet sounds of both filled the room—my cock sliding in and out of one wife while the other licked and sucked at the woman above her.
I reached for my neighbour’s breast forms—no, her real breasts—and squeezed while I pounded into the woman beneath me. The accounts officer’s wife came first, cunt clamping hard around my cock, a broken moan muffled against my neighbour’s wetness. The rhythmic squeezing pulled me after her. I drove in deep and held there, flooding her while her walls continued to milk me.
We barely paused. My neighbour shifted, pushed me onto my back, and sank down onto my still-hard cock, facing the other woman. The accounts officer’s wife crawled up and kissed her while she rode me, the two of them sharing the taste of each other. I gripped my neighbour’s hips and thrust up into her, the breast forms bouncing with every impact, anklets chiming. The other woman reached down and rubbed my neighbour’s clit in tight circles until she came with a sharp cry, cunt pulsing around me.
Afterwards the three of us lay tangled, slick and breathing hard. The accounts officer’s wife traced the edge of my lipstick with one finger, the same way my neighbour had done the first time.
“The others will want to meet you,” she said quietly. “The mechanical engineer’s wife already asked. And the chemist’s wife… she has been waiting longer than any of us.”
My neighbour smiled that private smile and rested her hand on my chest, just above the breast forms.
“Next week,” she murmured. “We start with all of them.”