"Alphabetically Yours" Daphne

by Julius
Copyright 2005





"Tomorrow, I'm going to be Daphne, your neighbour. "She'd told him over breakfast, the day before.

"You mean Daphne ...?" he'd gestured, with a movement of his head.

"Yes Barry, that Daphne."

She knew he had a thing about the woman next door. There was no doubt that Daphne was an attractive girl; black hair, a perpetually suntan it seemed, and a perfect figure. But blonde Gwen knew she had bigger tits and a better ass and longer legs and she kept Barry on his toes in the bedroom.

She supposed it was the greener-grass syndrome, the male-wandering-eye thing. Gwen planned on giving Barry a Daphne overdose. She doubted it would really cure him but it might get the message across. AND she was going to enjoy herself.

Gwen was half way through two weeks of house-sitting for Daphne and John. She watered plants, closed and opened curtains and turned lights on and off at appropriate times. Barry had mowed the lawn the day before. All very neighbourly.

The idea to "be" Daphne had popped into her head when she'd been browsing through her neighbour's underwear drawer. Make that underwear drawers - well actually, all six drawers of a dresser. Her naighbour had everything from plain, cotton panties to nearly non-existent thongs. From plain white sports bras to corsets that made Gwen drool.

She lovingly sifted through the drawers, it turned her on. The crotchless panties and pantyhose especially; she'd never worn anything crotchless. She wondered how Barry would react to her wearing panties like that.

At that moment the idea was born.

Daphne was smaller than Gwen but that wouldn't matter. Everything would be tight and revealing. As for wearing someone else's underwear? That would just add to the attraction for Barry, she suspected.

She'd bought a black wig and left it, and a pair of her own heels, in Daphne's bedroom, in readiness for the day.

By the time she told Barry, she was deliciously turned on. She couldn't get the idea of wearing the very different underwear out of her mind. She was going to buy herself a pile of crotchless hose and panties when this little adventure was over; that was a promise.

The rest of the day was spent in wonderful anticipation. She knew what was coming and seemed to be getting hornier by the minute. She sensed the tension in Barry too, the poor guy could hardly contain himself. 'Oh Barry my love, just you wait,' she purred to herself.

They both slept badly. She seemed to spend as much energy keeping away from his roaming hands, as she did in restraining her own. Finally day dawned and she slid out of bed. She bent to kiss him.

"I'm going next door, I'll phone you when breakfast isready." He grunted and reached for her but she squirmed away. He flung back the covers and gestured at his erection.

"Look!" he said, "he wants his breakfast now."

She looked at his beautiful cock and felt the flutter in her belly. Oh that lovely thing, she wanted it so badly at that moment. She dashed for the bedroom door. "I'll phone, soon."







She let herself into Daphne's house, locked the door behind her, and went upstairs.

She struggled into a little pair of Daphne's shorts and a white halter top. She'd have to go braless. Daphne's sports bras were stretchy, but not that stretchy. The wig was next, she stared into the mirror. The transformation was amazing. She was certainly no Daphne look-alike but the general effect was quite remarkable. It was the way her neighbour dressed for jogging each morning. It was how Gwen sawher when she passed the house ... the way Barry saw her too.




Downstairs, she turned her attention to breakfast. Something light was called for. Coffee, fruit and croissants seemed to fill the bill. She softened some butter in the microwave and reached for the phone.






The front door-chime sounded and Gwen, a.k.a. Daphne, went to answer it.

"Hi Barry," she said.

Barry's face lit up, he opened his mouth but no reply emerged. He closed it and grinned stupidly. Finally he managed, "I really thought for a minute ..."

"You thought I was Daphne," she said.

He looked almost disappointed. 'My God, he really does have the hots for her,' she thought. Jealously stirred inside her. She turned and headed for the kitchen, "Breakfast's this way."

He sat and ate. She moved about the kitchen, getting his coffee, fetching cream from the fridge. His eyes never seemed to leave her. She knew the too-small, Lycra shorts and halter top emphasized her charms.

They might be Daphne's clothes but it was her, Gwen, filling them. Before the day was done he'd have no doubt about that. She didn't join him at the table but paraded for him, while she found little odd jobs to do, eating her breakfast as she went.

"I have dusting to do," she announced, "would you do the washing-up while I change?" With that she left and headed upstairs.

When she came back to the kitchen Barry just stared. It was very flattering but a little irritating too. She had rendered him speechless with her appearance but she knew he was seeing the black wig. Some part of him, she was certain, was seeing Daphne.

"Well, neighbour of mine, pour yourself a coffee and come and keep me company while I clean up the living room."

She walked out, hips swinging.

Her outfit had been a last minute find in one of Daphne's bottom drawers. The traditional French maid's uniform, a black dress with white frills and a small apron. Gwen thought it the sweetest thing. With a little cap on her head and a feather duster in her hand, she knew she looked very much the part.


To complete the outfit, she wore fishnet pantyhose; crotchless, fishnet pantyhose and a pair of black panties. Under the dress, one of Daphne's black bras struggled to contain her breasts. She stood, poised in her black heels and waited for Barry.

"My God Gwen, you look good enough to eat," he said.

"Very flattering Barry, but I'm Daphne remember, so you'd better behave yourself."

Barry grunted and sat down, his eyes never leaving her.

"You forgot to bring your coffee. I'll fetch it." She headed back to the kitchen.

She returned with a brimming mug and handed it to him. 'Gotcha!' she said to herself as his gaze dropped to her cleavage. She was all but falling out of the inadequate bra, as she bent over him. She imagined his cock swelling. "Just sit and drink that, while I get the dusting done."

She made a display out of the dusting, stretching and reaching and bending, anything to show herself off. The pantyhose left her exposed, back and front, and in between, except where the brief black panties gave her token covering.

Barry had never seen her looking so sexy. He was acutely aware of his own arousal and sensed hers. He knew his mind was a little confused, even if his cock wasn't. The wig and surroundings told him one thing, while her face and her flesh told him another.

She was playing a game with him. The outfit was to seduce him, yet her words said she was off limits. He had to play along, but every move she made seemed to scream 'fuck me!'

He wondered if the panties were Daphne's. They mustbe, Gwen never wore black underwear. This new knowledge seemed make his cock even harder. He wanted more than ever to press his face between Gwen's legs or was that Daphne's legs?

She bent far over to flick imaginary dust off books on a bottom shelf and he saw that the panties were now lodged in the cleft of her ass. He groaned. She turned and smiled sweetly. "Covet not thy neighbour's wife," she lifted her little skirt at the front, "nor her box."


Bary gazed longingly at the swell of her mound.

Turning again, she bent, "Nor her ass?"

"How can I help it?" he said, seeing nothing but fishnet and flesh. "It's a lovely ass."

She moved across the room to a long coffee table. Picking up her can of glass cleaner she sprayed the table's glass top.

"Would you help me please?" she asked.

He got to his feet and walked over.

"I don't want to leave any smears."

He stood, wondering what she wanted. They weren't here to clean house together - at least he hoped not.

"You'll have to wriggle under the table to see properly," she said, gesturing as if it were the most obvious thing to do.

It seemed a little silly but this was her game and presumably her rules. He shrugged and got down on the floor, and wriggled his way under the table. She began cleaning the glass, this was a show and he was an all but captive audience.

She wiped the glass clean and, after a last flourish,asked, "How's that?"

"Utterly perfect," he said, looking up at her.

"Thought you might like some different views of the female form." With that she sat, straddling the table, legs wide astride. He watched her through the glass.

"I hope you like my little titties Barry, Gwen has such big ones." She peeled the left cup down and her breast poured out. She set the right one free in the same way.

"I happen to like Gwen's breasts."

"But these are nice too?" she moved her shoulders making her breasts jostle.

"Honey, I know we're playing a game here. But seriously, I love your breasts, they're bigger than Daphne's and I'm glad they are."

She made no reply but looked at him and blew him a kiss. She took a lipstick from the apron's pocket and removed the cap. Very slowly and with infinite care, she coloured first one nipple and then the other. As she worked, his cock swelled and strained.

She coloured the areolae, the lipstick pulling the tender flesh this way and that. Like his cock, her nipples grew and lengthened as she worked.

He reached into his pants to adjust his trapped erection. It needed out, poor thing.

She smiled, "So Barry's a tits man is he? I thought he might be."

She continued to torment him with the decorating of her nipples, until they were bigger than he'd ever seen them. He wondered if he could come, just from watching her. He found himself squirming, almost desperate with his need. 'God!' but his cock felt huge.

Finally satisfied, she put the lipstick back in the apron and leaned forward on her hands. She lowered herself until her nipples touched the glass. Down she went, flattening her breasts against the glass. The circles of flesh grew until they touched, forming a figure of eight. With her weight resting on them, her breasts looked huge.

Barry couldn't resist, he wriggled along under the table and raised his head to kiss her nipples through the glass. She laughed, "What would Gwen say if she could see you now?"

He wondered what Daphne would think if she could see Gwen performing on her coffee table. But the thought was gone in a moment. He sank back to the carpet, his neck protesting.

She raised herself slowly, peeling herself off the glass, her breasts forming spheres again. Two dark, pink circles of lipstick on the glass marked where her big nipples had rested.

She worked her way along the table until she was sat, splay-legged, directly above his face. 'Her pussy mustbe wide open,' he thought. Her ass and thighs were flattened against the glass as her breasts had been.

The black nylon of the panties was stretched tight across her pussy, every contour outlined, emphasised. Had these panties covered Daphne's mound too? He was sure they had. There he went again, thinking about Daphne, he sighed, perhaps Gwen was right. But he wanted his wife so badly, wanted to nuzzle his mouth against the black-clad cunt above him.

She was moving again, to the end of the table. The panties were deep between her buttocks. How he longed to touch, to stroke his eager aching cock.

Still sat she bent over slowly, reaching down and resting herhands on the floor. Her breasts hung, full and heavy. "Come kiss these Barry," she told him.

Eagerly he wriggled himself out until his head was clear of the table. Her nipples were inches from his face. She bent her elbows a little and swung those lovely breasts, brushing them against his lips. She stopped moving and he took her left nipple between his lips.

"Gwen says you can make her come like this. Can you make me come?"

There was something very special about her pose. He'd never seen or held or loved her breasts quite this waybefore. She was above him, yet his only contact with her were his hands and his mouth. His hands cupped and caressed, held and lifted her heavy, swollen softness. The lipsticked nipple tasted of strawberries. It was almost hard with its arousal, daring his teeth to bite.

He released her nipple for a moment and murmured, "You do have the most beautiful breasts in the world."

Her reply was to move her shoulders, making the breast jostle in his hands. The other swung enticingly. He returned to his suckling.

He squeezed the breast and she murmured her enjoyment. He squeezed harder and she moaned. He sucked and nibbled, pulling hungrily at her and she did come, suddenly. She shook and sobbed as she gained release. He didn't stop but suckled and teased drawing out her orgasm, marvelling at her passion.

His own arousal had reached the point where he'd thought he would come with her. How he wanted his cock out, longed to touch it, have it touched, have it buried somewhere inside her. God, but he had to fuck.

But she was offering the other breast to him.

"I want you," he said, almost pleading.

"I want you too," she told him, her voice deep with arousal.

But she seemed intent on teasing them both. Making him wait. Making herself wait too. She was different today, the wig, the sweet sluttish displays. Despite these he still saw her as his wife, not his neighbour, Daphne.

He took the other breast in his hands and opened his mouth to make love to the nipple. He was gentle this time and she didn't seem to want any more than that. It was as if they were taking a break, a quiet moment before the storm that must come soon.

She didn't come this time, but her arousal built and built as he nursed steadily at her nipple. She knew that the other teases and poses she'd planned for his delight would have to wait for another time. She wanted him and she sensed his desperate need for her.

She struggled up to a sitting position. Her breasts felt heavy and their nipples tormented her with their sensitivity. She got off the table and knelt at its end.

"Come fuck me," she said.

He wriggled out from under the table, stood and pushed his pants down. His white briefs boasted a wet patch where he'd leaked so much pre-cum. He pushed his briefs off his hips and his splendid cock sprang free. Her heart leapt at the sight of it.

He moved round and knelt behind her, hooked her panties with a finger and pulled them to one side. Her slickness offered no resistance and his cock slid into her. They both moaned at the sweet satisfaction.

For a few long moments they were still, as each savoured the other. Her heat clung to him, his swollen length filled her.

Then they simply fucked.

He reached out and pulled off the black wig and Gwen'sblonde hair spilled free.

"Let me fuck my Gwen."

"What about Daphne?" she said.

"Fuck Daphne."

"You'd better not; fuck me instead."

The sex was quick and noisy. It had to be, they were too aroused to ever hold back. His spasms seemed never ending, scalding through the length of his cock. He thrust and she responded, he strove to fill her, she sought to be filled.

Crouched, coupled and spent, in that most natural of poses, they let hearts and lungs slow to normal. Again her breasts were crushed against the glass. She felt him dwindling inside her.


"Take me home and do that again?" she begged him very quietly.


He raised himself, his now-small cock slipped from her. She gave the little squeal she always gave at the mini-birth sensation.


"I'd like that," he whispered.


She reached between her thighs and eased the panties back over her cum-leaking pussy.

She stood unsteadily on wobbly legs, turned and sat heavily on the end of the table. Sprawling back she spread her thighs wide catching the waist-band of the panties with her fingers. Playing the slut, she drew them up, up, cruelly tight.

"Kiss me, kiss my pussy before you take me home."

He knelt and pressed his parted lips against the soaked crotch of the panties; Daphne's panties.