Faster and faster, Rhonda's finger fucked into her moistly clasping cunt, deliberately teasing her clitoris and cuntal opening until her orgasm was only moments away. Her hips thrashed and pounded the waterbed, making it dip and sway in waves in rhythm to her own waves of pain-pleasure coursing through her sensitive flesh. There was no guilt, no shame for her in that frozen period of time; there was only the wonderful, rapturous feelings of impending climax which were filling her very soul.
Her Irish Catholic Mamma was no threat to her now.
CHAPTER TWO
Slowly, as she struggled for her climax, an unwelcomed sound penetrated Rhonda's lust filled brain: a knocking at the back door… persistent… almost angry knocking. Now who in the hell could that be? Oh, just a couple more minutes and I would have cum, thought Rhonda aggravated by the intrusion.
Damn! she cursed under her breath, then quickly grasped her housecoat from the foot of the bed as she shivered maddeningly from the impassioned sensations still electrifying her loins. Who could it be?
"Rhonda… oh, Rhonnndaa!" came the unmistakable throaty female voice of her neighbor, Marla Cushing.
"Damn it, Marla," Rhonda thought dejectedly as she slipped into the robe, hurriedly buttoned it and then gave her hair several quick pats.
"Oh, there you are, honey," the voice gushed as Rhonda approached the kitchen door with a forced calm that belied the inner turmoil she felt.
"I hope I didn't get you away from the TV?" the thirty-five year old divorcee continued. Then, not waiting to be invited in, she opened the door, paused to let her German Shepherd enter first and then boldly stepped in herself.
"No, that's all right. I was watching the convention and that's always a bore," she lied.
"That's good. I hate to be an intrusion," said the woman in a tone that clearly indicated that she really wasn't. Her eyes traveled up and then down her neighbor's scantily clad body. "I know you won't mind… you'll have time by yourself now that Bob is gone…"