My Horny Hotwife Neighbor

By Alana Church

Colin has new neighbors, and things are heating up. Sexy, sultry Amber can't keep her hands (or mouth) off him. But her husband Tony is a football player with a notorious temper. Colin can't resist Amber's body or her sensual skills, but what will he do if Tony learns about their affair? Find out in "My Horny Hotwife Neighbor!"

~~~~~ PG Excerpt ~~~~~

“Hi there, Sam!” a clear voice exclaimed, and I saw Amber’s tall, sexy figure rise and walk towards the fence. “How are you doing? Are you protecting Colin from all the big, scary football players?”

Sam put his paws up against the wooden fence, his tail wagging like a spastic metronome as Amber scratched him behind the ears.

“I think he likes you better than he likes me,” I commented, getting up and wandering over.

“And why not? I’m very lovable. Everyone says so,” she smirked.

Lovable? Or screwable? “You look good,” I said instead.

“Oh, this old thing?” she smiled, looking down at her bikini. Royal blue, it was barely decent. “I’m trying to get a good tan this summer. A real one, rather than a fake.” She shook her head in mock-disgust. “I don’t know why, but a tan that comes from real sunlight always feels better than one you get on a tanning bed in a salon.” She pulled at the straps of her bikini-top, making her large breasts wobble in a manner that was incredibly distracting. “But I have to be careful. It’s the Irish in me. Pale skin that would rather burn than tan.” Her nose wrinkled adorably. “And if my top gets any smaller, the girls here would just fall right out, and wouldn’t that be embarrassing.”

“Don’t feel like you have to cover up on my behalf,” I said, and crossed my arms on top of the fence. “I wouldn’t mind.”

“I bet you wouldn’t, you naughty boy.” She batted at my arm playfully. “But you know Tony. Or maybe you don’t. If he found out that I was sunbathing topless, he would flip right out. He’s so old-fashioned sometimes. I keep trying to tell him that he married a cheerleader, not a nun. I’m proud of my body, not ashamed.” She turned in profile. “Don’t you think I’m sexy, Colin?”

“I’m pretty sure you got all the proof you needed the other day,” I said, eyeing her body in undisguised approval.

“Mmmm, yes.” She closed her eyes as she smiled, her lips turning up lecherously. “You tasted so good. I played with myself that night in bed,” she whispered wickedly. “After Tony fell asleep. Thinking about you.”

• Language: English
• Publisher: Boruma Publishing, LLC
• Release date: May 23, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463620694

Alana Church

Born and raised in Illinois, Alana attended the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, graduating with a degree in Education in 1994. She soon found out that the teaching life was not for her, and after a series of adventures has settled down in the Chicago suburbs, where she works for a telecommunications company.Alana lives alone, surrounded by books, pictures, a pile of story ideas, and a turtle named Pedro.

Book preview

My Horny Hotwife Neighbor

By Alana Church

Artwork by Moira Nelligar

Copyright 2020 Alana Church

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~~ All characters in this book are over 18. ~~

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Chapter 1: Meeting

Man, working from home isn’t quite as much fun as I thought it would be, I thought with a sigh, looking out my office window.

It was my own fault, I supposed. After years of working for an advertising agency in downtown Chicago, I had grown tired of the daily grind. It wasn’t just the hassle of the commute – over two hours taken out of my day as I rode the train back and forth. It was also the petty office politics, the stupid little power games, and the sheer mind-numbing tedium of sitting in meetings that lasted for hours while people threw around buzzwords like they actually meant something, but nothing ever, ever got decided.

So I decided that I could do just as well by myself. I had been successful as a cog in a big national firm. I could do the same on my own. I quit my job and set up my own consulting firm, working out of my home. A good graphic designer didn’t need to work in an office, after all. All I really needed was a computer, decent software, a good internet connection, and my imagination.

Clients, too. I didn’t forget about those. But while the big advertising firms would gladly slit each other’s throats to get a big account, there were plenty of smaller companies who needed good quick work done and appreciated being a priority instead of playing second fiddle to the larger, more ‘important’ customers. And word got around. If you did good work for one company, delivered it on time and on-budget, pretty soon two or three others were hitting you up on e-mail and asking what your rates were, and "Is it possible you could have this done by next Friday, Mr. Thomas? We’re in kind of a hurry."

Of course, I took a hit on income, but I was prepared for that. I couldn’t afford to pay myself what my own firm had. But it all balanced out in the end. I didn’t have to pay a couple of hundred bucks a month for a train pass or for parking when I drove downtown. There was less aggravation too. No more walking a mile from the train station to the office when it was ten below and the wind was howling off the lake. No more bullshit ‘team-building’ exercises. No more annoying co-workers with voices like nails on a chalkboard. And the extra time I had for myself everyday was worth the relatively small financial hit. Before, I was lucky to get home by six-thirty. Now, I turned off my computer and my work phone every day when the clock hit five. And if someone wanted me to work overtime, they could damn well pay me for the privilege.

The only problem was boredom and loneliness. I had grown used to seeing other people at the office. And I found, to my surprise, that I actually kind of missed them. It was nice to trade stories about the weekend, or bullshit around the coffee machine, or see pictures of other people’s kids, or just sit around a conference table and have lunch together on those rare occasions when the company would spring for a free meal.

I was sitting in my office chair one Tuesday afternoon, throwing a balled-up sock around the room for my golden retriever to chase, waiting for a conference call to start and fiddling with the graphics on my latest project, when a moving van backed carefully into the driveway of the house next door. It was followed in short order by a black Mercedes sedan which pulled up to the curb.

I sat up and snapped out of my haze. My previous neighbors on that side, a very nice older couple, had moved out back in November and down to Florida for their retirement. In fact, they had left so quickly that I didn’t even know they were gone until their grand-daughter came by a few weeks later to pick up some things and told me why I hadn’t seen them around lately. Over the next few months, workers had been constantly in and out of the place, fixing it up so it could be put on the market. Our subdivision was a nice one, with big lots and back yards that sloped down to woods that bordered the Des Plaines River. But Ken and Patty had let their place go a bit when their kids moved away, and it wasn’t until February that a ‘For Sale’ sign popped up in the front yard. A few weeks after that, the sign had changed to ‘Sold,’ but I hadn’t yet caught a glimpse of the people who would be my new neighbors.

Well, it looked like I was about to find out. I stood and walked to the window of my office, set up in what had once been a spare bedroom on the second floor of my home, and watched as the passenger side door of the sedan opened. A pair of long, elegant legs emerged, followed quickly by a tall, black-haired woman with skin like cream and the graceful, erect carriage of a dancer or gymnast. Her eyes were hidden by a pair of sunglasses, but her figure was absolutely ravishing, even with most of her