Games neighbors play

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Susie felt it happen as she slipped off her dress, sheer magic warmly enveloping her flesh, softening it to the bone. Her movements slowed. She dropped the dress on the bathroom laundry hamper and felt her face, her throat, her bra stretched by suddenly swollen breasts. Her nipples were hard. She slid a hand down her belly, over her panties to her crotch. It was moist.

She gazed about her blue-and-white bathroom. Nothing appeared altered. The tiles gleamed. She had scrubbed them this morning. The shower door stood open.

She had been about to shower. In the bedroom she had laid out fresh undies and a crisp summer dress. The kitchen smelled of roasting beef, to be done in an hour when husband Brian arrived home. Susie, young Mrs. Susie Fenner, was an efficient, methodical homemaker.

But magic sent fingertips languorously roving her nyloned breasts, buttery-soft caresses teasing the growing caps. She felt slinkily sensual, like a cat in heat, switching her tail and sniffing for toms. Magic? She did not believe in magic. It was sex. Her vagina was pulling, wetting. But why?

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