Marjorie lifted her leg up and placed it across my lap. “That’s a nice summerhouse. Have you ever made love in it?” 

I was still wondering why she was using my lap as a footstool. “Er … no, I haven’t.”

“Would you like to,” she asked, “with me?”

Earlier this evening, my wife Sonia suggested a barbeque. I said I didn’t mind, to which she replied she was pleased as she had already invited some neighbours around. My heart sank, hoping she hadn't invited the blonde from across the road who had complained about me spying on her, twice. Though we had ended up making love, twice. Actually, it was more lustful sex than making love.

It transpired it wasn’t her. It was Roger and his wife Marjorie from about six doors down the road. He played badminton with Sonia on Tuesday nights. I had met neither of them before this evening. Roger seemed to be a bit of a jerk, but Sonia found him funny and laughed at everything he said. Marjorie was about five foot two, dark haired and pretty. Her largish breasts made her look a bit hefty. I put both Roger and Marjorie in their forties. He, late forties, but she was probably early forties if I was being kind.

The barbeque had gone well and Roger had kindly offered to help Sonia clear away the dishes, leaving Marjorie and I alone on the patio.

“Well?” she asked.

“We don’t even know each other.”

“You didn’t know Caroline.”

“Caroline?”

“Matt, how many neighbours do you fuck?”

“Oh! Is that her name? I didn’t know. How do you know about that?”

“Well, she didn’t put it in the parish mag, did she? She said you were a bit slow.” She took her leg off my lap. “Do you know about Roger and Sonia?”

“They play badminton on Tuesday nights. Why?”

She shook her head. “Roger has a bad knee. He doesn’t even take his kit with him anymore. I suspect my husband and your wife are fucking each other’s brains out every Tuesday night.”

I was gob smacked. My Sonia. Being unfaithful. How could she do this to me? All right, Blondie, I mean Caroline and I had had sex twice, but it wasn’t planned. I didn’t even like the woman. I just did it to teach her a lesson.

“So, how about it?” she asked. I turned around and looked back at the house. The kitchen light was on, but I couldn’t see anyone inside. Light from the upstairs hallway was shining through the back bedroom window. They must be upstairs.

“What will Caroline say?”

“Don’t tell her.” She stood up and offered me her hand. I reached up for it and stood up. She towed me to the summerhouse.

I hadn’t even shut the door when her arms were around me and she was all over me like a rash.

I placed my hands on her ass and squeezed her tightly as we kissed. She leaned back and lifted her t-shirt up over her head. This left her wearing a bra and shorts. I unclipped her bra while she undid my shirt. She buried her face into my chest, nibbling my nipples. I brought both hands in between us and caressed her ample breasts. Her hand wormed its way inside my shorts. She murmured, understandably with pleasure.

She worked my cock up and down with her hand. I unzipped her shorts and slid them down. She tugged at my shorts. We broke away for me to step out of my shorts and for her to pull down her panties. We removed her bra and my shirt. She lay down on the cane sofa and I crouched above her. She held my cock as I lowered myself onto her. I slid straight in. She wrapped her legs around my waist and I thrust deeper into her. She was deliciously tight.

She wasn’t a quiet lover. There was plenty of “Oh yes! Wow! Harder! Give it to me!” I tried hard to block it out. Occasionally, I glanced across to the house. I had just come when I saw the upstairs light go off.

“Stop, stop, stop! They are coming back down!” I pulled out and wiped myself with a cloth I found on the floor.

“Oh god!” she said. We leapt up, grabbing our clothes. “Panties! Where the fuck are my panties?”

Realising that the cloth I found on the floor were her panties, I slipped them into my pocket as I pulled my shorts up. Sonia and Roger were now in the kitchen. “Just leave them!”

“I can’t just leave them.” She was panicking so much; she was struggling to do up her bra.

“Shall I do that up for you?” I asked, rather helpfully, I thought.

“Just leave me alone. This is your fault.”

I couldn't see why it was my fault so didn't bother to answer as I buttoned up my shirt. She had finished putting on her bra, but she was finding pulling her t-shirt back on a bit of a struggle. Now was not the time to suggest she tried a larger size or even tried losing a few pounds. She gave up looking for her panties, pulled her shorts back on, and zipped them up.
Sonia and Roger were coming down the path as we appeared out of the summerhouse. We all met on the patio.

“So that was the summerhouse,” I said to Marjorie, as we sat down at the table.

“Have you shown her the summerhouse? That's nice, dear. We have made coffee,” Sonia said.

“It’s very nice, Sonia,” said Marjorie. “I have always wanted one.”

“What would we do with a summerhouse?” asked Roger.

I couldn't see what Sonia saw in him.

“Well I have just found a new use for one,” Marjorie said, glancing across at me.

Roger and Sonia stared as I spat my coffee across the table.

“Jeez, that was hot,” I lied.