Doug Graham was the perfect neighbor. He lent me tools and returned mine, took great care of his lawn and was almost as lousy a golfer as me, but still a blast to play with the five or six times a year I felt like hitting the links. Well, almost perfect. Perfect ended two years earlier when his first wife Emma caught him banging his secretary and divorced him. Emma had been a good friend of my wife Marie, still was, and the divorce ended any possibility of us doing anything with Doug as a couple. Especially since the new couple he was a part of included the offending secretary, Paula.

Doug kept the house after the divorce and Paula moved in a week after his settlement became final. She promptly told him she was finished with working, demanded and got a wedding ring, imposed a strict ban on children, joined the Junior League and made a quest for respectability her life's work. Paula was an absolute, grade A, USDA certified bitch. She was 25, or ten years younger than Doug and me, but acted ten years older; she regulated Doug's life like a hawk, mainly objecting to anything that was fun. Marie maintained an unrelenting boycott of activities that included Doug, but took great pleasure in telling me that he'd gotten exactly what he deserved.

In fairness, I probably ought to add that Paula is a fox. She is without a doubt the best-looking woman I ever met in person and maybe ever saw, period. She's about 5'9"and a hundred and fifteen pounds, with thick, silky natural blonde hair and the tiniest waist you ever saw. She has these eyes that could swallow you whole; deep medium blue with lashes about an inch long. Paula is the kind of girl that could get you to sell your soul just to fuck her once. Doug would have been better off if he stopped there, in my opinion.

One time I went to dinner at a Mexican place with Doug and Paula, just the three of us. Doug was enjoying this great sampler platter of fantastic, spicy rellenos, burritos, and enchiladas; really digging in with one elbow on the table, while I was trying to carry on a conversation with Paula without staring at her tits. She saw the waitress walking down the aisle toward our table and without missing a beat Paula reached over and picked up Doug's plate and handed it to her. Doug was so surprised his fork gouged the table. Paula gave him an icy stare and said something like 'You've had enough.' She wanted him to lose ten pounds.

I've got a lot of 'Paula's a bitch' stories, but you get the general idea. Which takes me to a Saturday night in early May. It was close to midnight and I was trying to decide whether to turn on HBO and watch a movie with some skin in it; Marie was already asleep. I could see a light on by Doug's patio so I decided to check it out. I was pretty surprised to find Doug relaxing in a chair by his pool, drinking beer and smoking a cigar. Paula didn't like it when Doug drank beer and she thought cigars were disgusting.

"Hey Mike! Take a load off and have a beer," Doug said, reaching into the cooler by his feet and handing me a longneck. As I opened it and sat down, he took a big drag on his cigar.

"Have a cigar too, they're Dominican," he said. There was another cigar, plus a cutter and a lighter on the little table between our chairs. I glanced nervously toward the house.

"Paula around?" I asked.

Doug laughed. "Don't worry, you're safe; she's already asleep," he said.

I clipped the cigar and lit it. Doug had apparently already had quite a few beers; he seemed pretty loose. We enjoyed the excellent cigars for a minute in silence.

"So what're you doing up?" Doug asked.

"I usually stay up late on the weekends. As soon as Marie gets Amanda down she likes to go to bed herself. It's kind of nice having the house to myself," I said. Amanda was our four-year old daughter.

We sat and talked guy talk for an hour or so, about our jobs and how crappy our 401-Ks were doing and what we thought of the Buccaneer's chances to repeat and win another Super Bowl, stuff like that. It felt really good, and not just because I was gradually overcoming Doug's headstart on beer consumption. We hadn't talked like this for quite a while, and I missed my good friend's companionship.

When we finished all the beer in the cooler I figured we'd call it a night but instead Doug went into the house and got another twelve-pack. He opened two bottles and handed one to me.

"No point in stopping now, Mike. I've had too much already to go in and get laid," Doug said. I frowned.

"I thought you said Paula was asleep," I said. Doug gave me a wicked grin.

"That's the whole idea. Paula's a really deep sleeper. It's almost impossible to really wake her up once she's out. Even if she does wake up she usually doesn't remember anything the next morning, and her subconscious is a whole lot more fun. More like when we were dating," Doug said.

All of a sudden I felt pretty sorry for Doug. Being married to a babe like Paula ought to at least guarantee you a great sex life, and without playing games to get it.

"That wouldn't work for me I'm afraid," I said.

"Why not?" Doug asked.

"Marie has a lot of trouble sleeping anymore, so her doctor gives her pills. Not for every night, mainly for when I'm away and she's nervous. She takes them on the weekends sometimes too, when she wants to sleep really well."

"So why is that so different from what I'm talking about?" Doug asked.

"Because even her subconscious is pretty out of it; it'd be like screwing a corpse, if you know what I mean," I said. Doug laughed, maybe a little too loud but I chalked that up to all the beer.

After another half-hour I needed to take a leak pretty badly and asked Doug if I could use his bathroom. He'd been gradually slumping deeper into his chair and had a glazed look as he nodded and waved toward his back door. I hurried toward the half bath near their front door glad that I didn't have to try to make it all the way back to my place.

I was way more aware of my surroundings after I answered my urgent call from nature, and noticed how close the bathroom was to the master suite. The bedroom door was open and the thought of Paula in there sleeping was pretty exciting. As I walked by I glanced in but couldn't see much, and then I felt guilty for looking. Like a high school kid trying to peek up some girl's skirt.

When I got back to the patio Doug was asleep in his chair. I shook his shoulder, gently at first but then more vigorously, getting no reaction. This posed a problem. The thought of hauling Doug anywhere wasn't all that appealing and what was I going to do, dump him into bed next to Paula? I decided to leave him where he was, but wanted get him as comfortable as possible. I pulled my chair around and propped his legs on it. Then I went back into the house, got a pillow off the sofa and looked around for a blanket. Finding nothing suitable I wandered closer and closer to the door to the master suite, finally slipping inside.

I was just looking for a blanket; what better place than the bedroom? As my eyes adjusted slowly, details of the room appeared. The only details I was noticing involved Paula. She was huddled under the covers on her side, facing away from me. The rise of her hip and the outline of her upper leg got my heart pounding, even though I couldn't see anything. Something about being in her bedroom as she slept was incredibly arousing.

Near her feet there was a lump on the bed; a folded spare blanket. I moved toward it as quietly as possible, but I cheated toward Paula's side of the bed just a little. I could still reach the blanket fine, but from there I could see Paula's face and just a tiny bit of her right shoulder. Her hair was pulled back from her face, and the small amount of light from the patio made her cheek seem to glow.

Then she shifted a little, startling me and reminding me just how stupid it was being in the room. I picked up the blanket and tiptoed out. Back on the patio I sat down and waited for my breathing to return to normal before covering Doug and sliding the small pillow under his shoulders. I cleaned up our cigar mess and threw away all the empty beer bottles; it went without saying that Doug didn't want Paula to know about our little party.

The next morning I was pretty hung over so I let Marie take Amanda to church while I recovered. As I made coffee I saw Paula out on the Graham's patio, and since the view was better from the second floor guestroom window with a pair of binoculars, I trotted up there. When Paula went to her Junior League meetings she wore Versace and Armani dresses but around the house she still dressed like trailer trash sometimes. Today she had on a plaid halter top and a pair of tiny pink knit shorts that showed the bottom third of her butt cheeks and hugged every line and crease of her pussy.

Paula was poking around by the chairs that Doug and I used the night before. The pillow and blanket were gone and I hoped Doug put them away before Paula got up. She looked into the cooler, then sniffed the ashtray I'd wiped clean. I watched as she circled their house to the trashcans, finding and counting the empty beer bottles. What a bitch! Doug was going to catch hell for this. As I watched, Paula spotted something behind one of the cans and leaned to pick it up giving me a great camel toe shot from the rear. It was a cigar butt, and she held it at arm's length like it was a turd or something as she headed into the house to confront Doug.

Later as I mowed the lawn I thought over what Doug said about Paula, that she could wake up partially but not remember what happened the next day. Amanda sometimes did that, and her pediatrician said it was a form of sleepwalking that was fairly common. A couple of times she'd gotten up and come all the way out to our family room and even talked to me before I took her back and tucked her in, and been clueless about it in the morning. That Doug could actually screw Paula without waking her up was amazing, and it was wildly exciting precisely because she was such a sneering bitch. Then I thought about my search for the blanket and the thrill of being in Paula's bedroom came rushing back to me. I'd been close enough to touch her.

I wondered how long Doug had been sleep-fucking Paula, and was dying to hear a blow by blow of exactly how much he could get away with. As I worked in my yard, I imagined what it would be like to slip into bed next to Paula and slide my hands over her body, groping those firm tits and fingering her pussy.

This was the best stroke fantasy I'd had in years, and it necessitated a trip into the house to whack off so I could finish mowing without a rock-hard boner. As I put the finishing touches on my back yard, I heard the higher-pitched drone of a weed-whacker starting up in Doug's front yard. It wasn't surprising that Doug wanted to get out of the house, and I decided to go find out just how much trouble he was in. Doug shut off the gas trimmer when he saw me approaching.

"Howdy, neighbor!" he said, apparently in good spirits.

"I saw Paula poking around in the trash this morning, sorry I didn't do a better job of hiding the evidence," I said. "Are you grounded?"

Doug laughed. "She yelled at me, but if I don't put up a fight it usually blows over fast. I think she likes it when I screw up, so she has something to scream about," he said, then paused. "Thanks for cleaning up and taking care of me, Mike. I feel bad for passing out like that but it seems like it happens a lot when I drink too much. I can't hold my alcohol like I used to. I must have been out for hours, it was almost morning when I woke up."

"That's what friends are for," I said, shrugging. "I felt bad leaving you on the patio but didn't think I could carry you inside. From what you said I could have put you to bed without waking Paula though."

Doug looked confused for a moment, then smiled. "Oh yeah. I forgot that I told you about that. Keep it under your hat, okay?" I nodded, wanting to ask for more details but not at the risk of sounding too curious.

"If you want to, we could make it a regular Saturday night get together," I said. "It was great shooting the breeze and relaxing, Doug. We haven't done that enough since you and Emma split up."

"I'd like that," Doug said. "Same time, same place?"

I nodded as he restarted the weed-whacker and we returned to our chores.

It was sometime Monday afternoon when the idea first started to tease me with its potential. I'd been obsessed with thoughts of fucking Paula all day, and at first thinking of the logistics was just window dressing on the fantasy, to make it seem more real. Doug and I were about the same size and build, just over six feet and fairly muscular for our age. His hair was a shade or two lighter brown than mine, but nothing anyone would notice in the dark. Doug and I belonged to the same athletic club and I'd seen him in the shower. Package-wise we were comparable; both better endowed than your average guy. If Doug could sneak in there after Paula was good and asleep and ball his wife without her knowing it, I could too.

The only big problem that occurred to me was what Doug would be doing at the time, and being a natural problem-solver my mind started mulling that over. I stopped myself a couple of times; it was nuts to even think about it. If I got caught the consequences would be devastating. Paula would probably call the cops, but that would be the least of my problems. Marie would leave me in a heartbeat, and Doug would probably clobber me. My thoughts kept returning to Paula's perfect fucking machine body though; proof positive of the control the little head can exert over the big head.

By midweek I had a tentative solution to the Doug problem. It was simple really. Doug said he passed out when he drank too much, and judging from the number of empties on his side of the patio it didn't take that much. All I needed to do was outlast him, and I could cheat a little with that. I could get beer that was stronger than what Doug was used to, and make him think I was drinking more than I really was; I'd done that at business dinners plenty of times. Once he passed out leaving him on the patio wouldn't seem odd since I'd already done it once.

I wasn't really planning to fuck Paula of course. There was no guarantee that Doug would pass out, and even if he did the most I'd risk would be looking at her some more. And possibly feeling her up a little bit; nothing elaborate. The thrill would be in getting everything to work, and in knowing what I could have done.

When I got home from work on Wednesday, Doug was washing Paula's car in their driveway. Paula drove one of those cute little BMW two-seater convertibles, perfect for the image she'd chosen for herself.

"Hey Doug! The car's looking good," I said. He looked up and smiled.

"Yeah, Paula has some big garden shindig tomorrow afternoon and she wants it to look good. You in town all week?" he replied. I nodded.

"Still up for Saturday night?" I asked. Doug saying 'yes' was all the cooperation I needed for my plan. He looked like he was thinking it over.

"Sure. Let's say eleven, Paula should be asleep by then. What time do you think Marie will be turning in?" he asked.

"She'll be out by ten. She's got a big day the next day; some kind of charity fund-raiser she's hosting so she'll want to get plenty of rest," I said.

"Eleven it is then. How about if we hold it on your patio this time though? It might go a little easier on me that way," he said, grinning. I laughed. That was fine, I decided. Might even be better that way.

The rest of the week went quickly. I went to a liquor store and looked for a suitable imported beer for my get together with Doug. Some of the ones with the highest alcohol content had a really heavy taste. That could discourage drinking a lot, defeating the purpose. I settled on a nice English ale that I knew was fairly smooth but had twice the kick of American beer.

On Saturday morning I fussed around the house, cleaned the garage and rearranged my tools, killing time and fighting off a growing case of jittery nerves about the night ahead. At lunchtime Marie suggested that we take Amanda to the beach and I jumped at the chance to get out of the house. As we pulled out of our driveway with a car full of folding chairs and beach toys, I saw Doug in his driveway and waved.

"How's Doug doing these days?" Marie asked. I was shocked by the apparent concern.

"Fine I guess. Paula keeps him on a pretty short leash," I said.

"Not exactly the fun and games he thought he was getting?" she asked, smiling. At thirty-five, Marie was still youthful and beautiful in a classy, refined way. She had great cheekbones and striking green eyes. I laughed.

"No, not exactly. He'd have been better off sticking with Emma." I agreed. Marie frowned, and I cringed. A comment like mine had started arguments before; Marie thought Emma was better off without Doug. Emma accused him of physical abuse in the divorce; something I claimed was just posturing by her slimy lawyer. Luckily Marie let it slide this time.

"I hear Paula's cutting a pretty wide swath through the Junior League these days; apparently everyone's afraid of her. Kind of a Machiavelli with boobs," Marie said, smiling again.

I nodded and changed the subject; talking to Marie about Paula was uncomfortable. Plus I agreed to go to the beach so I could quit thinking about Paula's boobs.

We found a parking space and Marie chased Amanda toward the water while I hauled the cooler, beach umbrella, chairs and towels. By the time I caught up, Marie had removed her cover up and was slathering Amanda with sunblock.

I set up our chairs, planted the umbrella strategically and settled in to watch Marie and Amanda wade into the gentle Gulf surf. Amanda was very excited, jumping every time a wave hit her calves and squealing. She had the same thick dark brown hair as her mother, and at four you could already tell she'd gotten Marie's long waist and generous hips, too. Marie looked good in the one-piece bathing suit, no more than ten pounds heavier than when I met her.

While my family played, I pretended to read a novel. As if the dozens of teenage girls in bikinis weren't enough of a distraction, my pending rendezvous with Doug and Paula made concentrating on Dean Koontz' latest effort impossible. I ran through everything that might go wrong for the twentieth time, and when that still didn't scare me enough to change my mind, I let myself speculate about what Paula would be wearing to bed. I was hoping for a lacy set of babydoll pajamas with a thong, but just about anything would do.

Later, while Amanda and Marie rested I did a little snorkeling and then Amanda and I built a monster sandcastle. As the tide approached we built dikes around our creation, postponing the inevitable, then as the waves breached our defenses we smashed the castle ourselves, screaming and laughing. We had dinner at a place near the beach, and by the time we got home it was nearly eight o'clock.

Marie and I took turns showering to get rid of the sand and saltwater residue while Amanda took her bath. I spent twice as long in the shower as normal, shampooing twice and using some of Marie's body wash. I felt like a kid getting ready for a first date.

After Marie and Amanda went to bed, I started setting up for my get-together with Doug. I put some mugs in the freezer to chill and filled a cooler with ice and a case of the imported ale, then hauled it out to the patio next to two padded deck chairs. Two very nice Macanudo cigars, a cutter, lighter and ashtray and I was ready with fifteen minutes to spare.

By the time Doug showed up I had a one-beer head start and the ale was settling my nerves nicely. I retrieved Doug's frosted mug, poured his first beer and handed it to him with his cigar.

"Man, this is living! I thought you drank light beer," Doug said.

"Special occasion," I replied as I lit my cigar. We continued our guy small talk from the week before, and by the time I finished my third ale Doug had caught up with me. I decided to try to pump him for some information.

"I've been thinking about what you said last week, about Paula and getting laid while she's sleeping," I said, and could tell I had Doug's attention.

"Yeah, it seems kind of silly, right?" he asked. I shook my head.

"Heck no, it's great. Pretty exciting; do you mind talking about it?"

"I guess not." Doug took a swig of beer and studied me.

"I've been married ten years, so vicarious thrills are about all I get," I began. "How long have you been doing this, and does it work every time?"

"At least a year. The decent sex with Paula dried up about six months after we got married, but then I got home late one night and made my little discovery. The secret is making sure she's been sleeping really good for at least an hour, and it helps if she has some wine before she goes to bed," Doug said.

"Did she drink any tonight?" I asked. Doug winked at me.

"Two glasses of chardonnay right before she turned in," he said.

With a little more coaxing, Doug filled me in on his routine. He said he let Paula warm up very gradually with plenty of foreplay, without any sudden moves. All of that sounded terrific to me. I told him he was a lucky guy as I opened him another bottle of ale. I'd been nursing my last one, and even dumped some when Doug wasn't looking. Doug was on his sixth or seventh beer now to my four and I intended to widen the spread.

"Hey, Mike. What's the work week look like for you? Going out of town?" he asked. Doug was starting to slur his words a bit.

"Yeah, I've got to go to Milwaukee for a couple of days," I said as I stood and stretched. "How about a fresh mug?" Doug looked down at his beer, which was still almost full and shrugged. When I got to the kitchen I dumped my beer in the sink then got two new mugs from the freezer. I filled Doug's to the top but only put a few ounces in mine, then added ice water. It looked watery but that was in the bright light of the kitchen, on the patio it would be fine.

"Here we go!" I said cheerfully as I rejoined my friend. I was pleased to see that his old mug was empty.

"I was going to tell you that I could switch to regular beer, but since you've already got this poured..." Doug said, then took a swallow. He was starting to slump in his chair just like the week before.

"How's Marie; she sleeping?" Doug asked. Distracted, I nodded. Then an idea hit me.

"Yeah, out like a light. She took a pill but probably didn't need it, she was so worn out from the beach. Motherhood is tough," I said, then paused. "Let's hear it for motherhood!" I said, and raised my mug and took a big swallow. Doug followed suit.

"To motherhood," he said. About a quarter of his beer was left now.

"But let's not forget Paula, she works hard even without kids. Here's to all the wives!" I said, and drained the rest of my mug. Doug gave me a wink and finished his, too. I was watching his reactions and they seemed sluggish. I poured us each another beer but set mine down, without touching it.

I started telling Doug about our day at the beach to keep the conversation going. He just listened, nodding a little to acknowledge a joke or good part of the story. After about five minutes he stopped responding, and his head started to list to port. I stopped talking and watched. When his head was all the way over on the cushion of the chair I reached over and pulled the empty beer mug from his fingers. It came away with no resistance at all; Doug's hand was relaxed.

I got up quietly and went in to check on Marie. She was sleeping soundly; I slapped her shoulder lightly to make sure. The last thing I needed was for Marie to wake up and find Doug on the patio, and me gone. She looked nice sleeping on her back in a black nightgown, hair spilling all around her head on the pillow, but nothing like what was waiting for me next door. I went back to the patio and pulled my chair around in front of Doug for a footrest. His head was back on the cushion all the way and he was snoring lightly.

"Sweet dreams, pal. I'm really sorry about this part of it," I said. I felt bad about tricking Doug but this wasn't about him and he was fine; it was about his wife and he didn't like her anyway. I resolved that I'd make it up to him somehow.

I felt surprisingly calm as I walked toward Doug's house. The hard part was over now, all the arranging and worrying if things would work out. The door from the Graham's patio was unlocked and the kitchen light was on. I got myself a glass of water and then strolled toward the master bedroom. The door was open, and there was enough light from the big sliding doors to the patio to see pretty well. All of my hesitancy of the week before was gone, looking at Paula was what I was there for and there was no point in being shy. I walked in and approached the sleeping woman until my knees were pressed against the bed inches from her face.

Paula slept on the right half of the bed, just like Marie. She was curled up on her side facing the edge of the bed, her blonde hair pulled into a tight ponytail. I looked Paula over as I finished my water and then leaned closer, smelling her. The combination of warm, clean skin and hair, perfume and the fabric softener from the sheets was wonderful.

With just that taste of the pleasures to come, I moved silently across the bedroom and into the master bath. I closed the door and turned on a light. All Doug's stuff was on the right side of the wide, two-sink vanity. I stripped quickly to my underwear and then found Doug's cologne. I intentionally wasn't wearing any of mine. I sprayed myself in strategic spots, then for good measure decided to work a little of Doug's mousse into my hair, combing it back the way he did. I was just going to snuggle with Paula a little, but I figured it couldn't hurt to be careful. I was as ready as I was going to get and had an erection like a steel girder.

I turned out the light and returned to the bedroom, letting my eyes adjust again. Paula hadn't moved. I pulled back the covers on Doug's side and slipped into bed next to her. As the covers settled, all the smells of Paula's bed wafted over me so much stronger than before. Then the warmth radiating from her body followed and the combined effect was overpowering. It felt so incredibly intimate to be next to her this way. I waited a couple of minutes to be sure everything was okay, then folded my covers on top of Paula, exposing her back all the way down to her ass.

Paula was wearing a little cotton shirt with no sleeves and thin shoulder straps that ended five inches above a pair of white cotton bikini panties. The way her back tapered from firm but feminine shoulders to the incredibly tiny waist, then swelled at her hips to accommodate her heart-shaped ass was amazing. I ran my fingers over her panties. Paula shifted a little, either from the touch or from the cold air on her back.

I pulled my underwear off and moved closer to her replacing the warmth of the covers with my own, sliding against Paula in a tight spoon formation. That felt fucking great, especially my rock-hard dick against her ass. I eased my right hand over her hip and let it fall lightly on her tummy, then settled in to wait for a while as Doug instructed.

Doug sat up and stretched. He felt a little drowsy, but it was probably from all the time he spent pretending to be passed out rather than from the beer. He'd stayed sprawled in the patio chair for quite a while, fearing that Mike would come back for something he forgot. That seemed unlikely now, and Doug had his own agenda to worry about.

A stroke of luck and a full bladder took Doug to the kitchen sliding door in time to see Mike pouring out an almost-full mug of beer, then watering down his next one. At first he couldn't figure out what the hell his friend was up to, but then all of a sudden the questions about sleep-fucking Paula started to make sense. That and the blanket Mike covered him with the week before that Doug was pretty sure Paula kept on the foot of their bed. If Mike went into the bedroom once it was almost a given that his reason for all the sneaking around was that he wanted to go back. Doug would have been pissed if all this didn't fit so nicely into his own plans, so instead he played along.

Doug's main objective in coming over had been to find out when Mike was leaving town; he'd said that Marie usually took a sleeping pill when she was alone. But sneaking over then was risky, what if that was the one time she didn't sedate herself? And Doug wasn't a hundred percent sure that the house key he had for Mike and Marie's place still worked. It was from three or four years ago, when Emma used to water plants and feed the cat during vacations.

No, this was much better. Mike told him that Marie took one of her pills tonight, and the house was wide open. All Doug had to worry about was Mike finishing before he did, and if that happened what was Mike going to do about it? Not a hell of a lot, since his dick would probably still be wet from fucking Paula.

Doug walked into the house and quickly made his way to the master bedroom. He flipped on the lights; there was no need to be stealthy with Marie and he wanted to be able to see what he was doing. Marie was sleeping on her back, the covers pulled up to her chest. Doug grabbed the comforter, blanket and top sheet and pulled them all the way to the foot of the bed.