Good Neighbors

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32


It was already getting hot, the sun was in a clear sky, and the humidity not quite oppressive. I was getting the grass cut early in the day to avoid the promised sauna-like afternoon. We had moved into our brand new home a couple of years ago – nice neighborhood of mixed young and middle-aged working families, some with children, along with a few older retired couples like ourselves. Our neighbors on one side were a retired couple older than we – pleasant and helpful but with few outside interests. On the other side was a family of forty-something school teachers with two sons – maybe 14 and 17. They were an athletic-prone family. The husband was a phys-ed teacher/coach, the oldest son was into little league baseball, and the other son was a scratch golfer on the junior high team. I think the wife’s father had been a golf club pro. She was an Art teacher but she obviously had been athletically active for most of her life. She had a strong, compact body which now was probably twenty-five pounds overweight – mostly in her tummy, bottom, and high-hipped love handles. I judged her to be about 45.

I was halfway through the lawn-mowing chore when Dana (the athletically inclined wife next door) came out to get her yard chores done early too. I had noticed that she did almost all the yard and garden work around their house. The husband pruned a tree once and one of the sons sometimes mowed the lawn – otherwise Dana did it all. Their yard was nicely landscaped and well cared for.

When she came out we waved and shouted friendly “Hi’s”. On the occasions when we both were working outside I sensed a mutual respect for one another’s industry. Sometimes we’d stop and chat for a minute or two. This morning I went on cutting the grass. She seemed to be weeding, pruning, transplanting.

Just before I had finished the front yard and was ready to move to the back, Dana was struggling with a large container of lily plants. I shut down the mower and went to help. I offered in my friendly neighbor tone, “Wait a minute! Let me give you a lift. What do you want to do with this thing?”

“Oh! Thanks, Matt. I need to take it around back so I can clean it and replant it.”

“It seems too heavy to just carry back there.”

“Well, yeah, I thought I’d try to drag it back.”

“I’ll get my wheel barrow thing.” I left and returned with my yard cart. We slid-lifted the container onto the cart and took it around back.

“Oh! Thanks. That was really heavy.” As usual I studied her intently – hoping I was being discrete, but attracted by her pleasant charm and womanly features. Her facial skin had aged into premature wrinkles – probably from lots of sun exposure. Otherwise her face was average-attractive but totally absent of make-up. Her hair was thick, heavy, and mixed blond-gray. She always wore it the same – in a straight, long page boy to her shoulders with heavy bangs – sometimes held back with a ribbon. She went on, “You look really warm, would you like a cold beer or something?”

“Well, a glass of ice water would be good.”

She went inside and came out a few moments later with two glasses of ice water. We sat down in a couple of lawn chairs in the shade of some pine trees. “Thanks very much – this really hits the spot.” After a few sips, “I’ve seen you do some pretty heavy duty work in the yard but when you started moving that tub of lilies it just looked like too much to me.”

“I guess it was. I didn’t think it would be that heavy but we’ve had a lot of rain lately and the soil is saturated. Thanks for the help.” After a few more sips, “You two have landscaped beautifully; I love your patio arrangement. I was kind of sorry to lose the vacant lot but you’ve more than made up for the loss.”

“Thanks, but I’m just the grass cutter and dirt digger, Connie is the planter and nurturer. Are you the one who kept the grass on the vacant lot cut and the weeds subdued?”

“Mmmm hhmmm, well, the boys and I. Whenever they’re not playing in a game or practicing, I have them do the grass mowing.”

We chatted for ten or fifteen minutes. She talked mostly about the boys but very little about her husband. When he came up in the conversation she seemed to briefly “cloud over” and arranged for him to be dropped out. When we ranged into other subjects she again perked up and became more animated. I saw him around very little – he always seemed to be inside when she was out or off with one of the boys or just “off”. A mystery. Oh, well. None of our lives are perfect.

Dana wanted to know where we’d come from and what we had done before retiring and what we did now. While we talked I appraised like the veteran girl-watcher that I am. Her facial complection was out of sync with the rest of her visible body. Her visible body was limited to arms, hands, and legs from ankle to mid-thigh, and they looked her age. She was wearing the type of workout garb she always seemed to wear. Perhaps once, I vaguely remembered, I had seen her leave the house in a long, ankle length shapeless gathered skirt and some kind of shapeless top.

Her tuzla escort work garb consisted of sport socks and boots; latex, mid-thigh work-out/warm-up tights; and a baggy matching t-shirt or baggy short-sleeved sweatshirt – depending on the weather. I didn’t have to be a psych PhD to know that either Dana’s hormones were heavily laced with tom-boy stuff OR she was hiding a body that wasn’t up to her self-image standard. Probably both.

While I appraised I sensed that she too was appraising in a fashion. I was sensing an unusual, personal chemical reaction to Dana. I recognized the symptoms: I wanted to touch her, my throat felt a little tingly, and my groin felt faintly snuggly. What was the attraction? Well – her legs were well shaped and well toned although a little heavy, and the thighs looked strong, “comfortable” and full. Her hips and “love-handles” were fuller and higher than she probably would like and her breasts appeared to be very generous. As best I could tell they were the size of large grapefruits and moderately pendulant – they definitely were occupying a lot of space in her bulky t-shirt. Her tummy was pronounced – no flat abs here. In short, she wasn’t a sexual object I would seek out, but her body was firm and well toned – not flabby. Even though her legs, thighs, and breasts were very appealing in an earthy sense, it was that other “certain something” to which I was really reacting. That certain something?

These strong, inexplicable, sexual reactions had been rare for me. I could remember only three of four in my lifetime. I’ve never known for sure if they are entirely self-generated or whether they were triggered by an exchange of chemistry or aura with the other person. However, in those I could remember, it later turned out the other person had felt similar, unexplainable attractions. Not all these women were notably beautiful, but all the attractions were notably sexual. Chemistry? Pherimones?

Well. I had work to do. And I knew this “reaction” wasn’t likely to go anywhere so I would be wise to suppress it. “Dana, thanks for the life-saving water. I’d better get back to my grass.” For a moment I had a feeling Dana had sensed my overlong appraisal of her thighs and breasts. I hoped I hadn’t offended her.

Dana had a questioning look in her eyes, as though she wasn’t quite ready to end our little interlude. But then, “Right! Me too.” So off we went – back to our chores.

The next time we were working at the same time outside was just a few days later. In the hottest part of the summer I have to cut my Florida grass every four days. This time Dana was also cutting grass. In a fit of neighborly sociability I went inside and made some Gatorade. Connie was grocery shopping. I took the decanter and a couple of glasses out to our patio table and hailed Dana. She came around into our back yard and we sat down for a refreshing respite.

“Oh! This hits the spot. What is it?” She seemed to be in a good mood and more at ease than when we last had sat down together. We had chatted “over the fence” frequently and developed a relatively warm friendship since the tub-moving and ice water episode.

“Powdered Gatorade. You mix as much as you need. I put it in my water bottle when I play tennis in the summer time. Otherwise I’d run out of electrolytes.” I sensed that I felt nicely comfortable being with her.

Dana was wearing her usual garb except her t-shirt seemed a little tighter and thinner today. I tried not to pay attention to the compelling volume and shape of her breasts or the slight bulging under the T-shirt at the top of her bra where her breasts were trying to pour out of its snugness. We talked about our athletic prowess and laughed at my confessions of tennis booboo’s and total lack of golf skill. Once when we laughed, Dana put her hand on my arm and squeezed briefly. That certainly got my attention. I was getting those tinglings in my throat again – and the hint of cuddliness in the groin area. I was definitely attracted to her breasts and thought her upper thighs might be softly magnificent if I could ever see them without the mid-thigh warm-up tights; but, although physical attractions usually got my attention, I had never had these tingly feelings unless something else was in the air. Even though few people would call Dana “attractive”, she was pleasant looking. And she was very well endowed with the ancient personifications of fertility, of “sexual mother/female” characteristics.

A few moments later I made a humorous comment about a local politician who lived on our street and touched Dana’s arm as I laughed at my own joke. Before I could withdraw my hand she covered it lightly with hers – and we made eye contact. The eye contact seemed to have nothing to do with our laughing – it was something to do with the touch.

We both sensed an increase in the element of tension when Dana lightly squeezed my hand. Finally she broke the spell when she removed her hand and said, “I think I’d better get back to work.” Our eyes were still locked. She almost looked like she was trying to send a message – or tuzla escort bayan maybe she was looking for a sign or reaction from me. I wondered if I was sensing more complication than actually existed. Perhaps.

I took my hand away, “Me too, but I was enjoying our… little time together.” Oh, oh! That slipped out. I hoped I hadn’t been too forward.

“I was too… but… It’s just that…” Our eyes were exchanging questioning messages again.

I interrupted, “You’re right…, we need to get our chores done.” Our real feelings weren’t being articulated – probably just as well.

We returned to our chores. I didn’t know whether she was offended or flattered by my attention, but the hand-touching and strange parting dialogue would suggest the latter.

A week or so went by without occasion for me to tease myself with little “Dana moments”. Dana and Connie both liked gardening and exchanged plants and advice from time to time, and the two of us would stop and chat for a while whenever we each were working outside; but it wasn’t until Dana and her husband bought their oldest son his first car that the next “Dana Moment” occurred. I joined the two of them in their driveway to “appraise and marvel”. Dana’s husband was cleaning up the car while Dana watched and I kidded around with the two of them. I was standing beside Dana and, in reaction to a humorous comment, put an arm around her shoulder and briefly hugged her to my side. She offered no resistance and covered my hand on her shoulder with hers for a moment. We exchanged eye contact. I knew I had used the “moment” as an excuse to hug her, but afterwards wondered if I’d been a bit too familiar under the circumstances. After all, I still had seen no clear sign that Dana shared my mysterious sense of chemistry. On the other hand… she had touched my hand and held it in place for a few moments.

A few days later Connie had gone to a luncheon meeting in Orlando to be followed by shopping and dinner with a friend. I spotted Dana working outside again. For a while I simply stood at the window and watched – mostly her breasts and legs and thighs – because today her work garb was very out of the ordinary. She was wearing a white jersey tank top and a pair of white short shorts. The shorts looked like they had fit her comfortably at a younger, slimmer time in her life – so now they were snug and shorter! They didn’t quite cover the bottom crease of her tush. Her thighs were strong and full and swelled to meet the generous bum and hips. Her breasts were well defined and decidedly generous in their pendulance. For some reason the bra wasn’t keeping them from swaying when she moved about and they didn’t seem to be bulging out at the top. I was in awe.

I concluded it must be time to cut my grass again so I put on some work clothes. I selected a pair of very short (and now too small) jersey knit shorts left over from racquetball days because ‘I thought they would be cooler’ to work in. Keeping cool was probably also why I decided not to wear undershorts. Oh my! I was fantasizing.

I had barely moved the lawn mower out of the garage when Dana waved and called out, “Can’t neglect the landscaping!” Had she been watching for me? Then she seemed to invite me over with, “Am I doing this right?” I wondered if she was simply being friendly because I knew she needed no gardening advice about pruning shrubbery, at least not from me.

I replied with a light-hearted, “Hey! I’m not the gardening expert in this house.” I walked over to her, “I saw you out here working and knew I shouldn’t let the grass get too long – so your diligence shook me loose and here I am.” Her smile was engaging and her eyes seemed to be looking for an answer to a question that hadn’t been asked.

“I need to trim these shrubs. If Connie is coming out to work a little maybe she can give me some guidance.”

“Connie’s not home.” At this disclosure Dana’s eyes and facial expression seemed to brighten, to be more interested.

“Oh. I guess I’ll just do it the way I always have then.” Spoken almost as though the subject hadn’t been important in the first place, as though other things were on her mind.

“I’m always surprised at how warm it is when I come out to work,” a general comment to move our conversation forward. What was on my mind hadn’t changed at all, and my eyes were busy roving from legs to breasts to thighs and back to her eyes. As my eyes roved I tried to be discrete but the newly exposed thighs and promising bit of cleavage above the neckline of the tank top were inspiring.

She looked down at her outfit in self-appraisal and said, “Whew, yeah. I just couldn’t bear putting on my regular work clothes today.” She obviously had been watching my eyes.

I felt like the kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Though a little distracted I managed to come up with, “You look much cooler than you usually do.”

“Well, I’m no bathing beauty… I feel more comfortable covered up, but today just seemed so warm.” Her voice lowered then and became a little more intimate when she asked, escort tuzla “Do you think these shorts are… you know, too short?” She tugged in a token effort to cover more of her thighs and derriere – without success. The sudden intimacy reminded me of the little moment of hugging a few days ago. She had felt so good being so close.

My voice lowered as well when I answered, “Gosh no… you look good – and everything is… properly covered. Actually, you look very terrific. These clothes are more flattering than your usual work things.”

“You’re just being nice.” She looked almost shy for a moment.

“Well, no, uh, yeah! Well,… you know, but maybe I’m being a little too bold.” I thought I’d better relieve the building tension – give her a little space if she wanted it.

“Mm, maybe a little bold… but nice.” She smirked a little and her eyes flirted, “Like I said, I’m definitely no bathing beauty.”

“Dana, you… you’re attractive.” I was in uncharted territory, “You look so…” I hoped she wouldn’t be offended, my open mouth was doing it again.

“So… what?” Almost a whisper.

“So… feminine.”

“Maaattt… I…”

“I’ve said too much… I think I’ve made you uncomfortable.”

Dana squeezed my arm, “No… Thank you… that was very nice. I don’t often hear things like that.”

Our lowered, more intimate voice level seemed to change the way we were relating to one another. When peoples’ voices are at normal or higher pitch and the attitude or facade displayed is upbeat, the effect is to keep one another at a social “arms length”. Candor and intimacy are thus avoided. On the other hand, it seemed that her introduction of the lowered voice and a subject of relative candor created an intimacy between us.

Continuing with the softened, intimate voice I said, “Well, standing here flirting with my attractively feminine neighbor isn’t getting the grass cut. I guess I can’t avoid it indefinitely.” I touched her arm, “But… if you need help with anything,… you know, anything at all, call out.” I was slow to move away, hoping she’d stop me I suppose.

“Thanks…. Uhh,” she took a half-step closer to me and caught my hand as I was withdrawing it, “… do you have to get started… right away? I have some iced tea made – how about a glass before we go back to work?” She sounded as though she weren’t quite ready to return to her chore either… and she had moved so close. Pheromones?

I hesitated demurely. I liked Dana very much and preferred ogling and flirting, which I had really come out for, to cutting grass – and this new intimacy felt nice, really nice! “Sure, I’d like some.” I was getting that warm, cuddly feeling toward her. The soft voices, the closeness, and bit of touching made me feel huggy-feely – feeding my little fantasy that Dana might have similar urges. I squeezed her hand. She was so close it seemed like our bodies were exchanging sexual energy… and the tips of her breasts were just inches away… I imagined tiny bolts of electricity shooting into me from her nipples, going through my body and shooting back at her through the growing member in my cuddly groin. I was ignoring the inner voice of caution.

“Why don’t we go in out of the sun?” She squeezed back and tugged lightly to start us toward the back of her house. Our touchings and squeezings added a rich dimension of unspoken, intimate meaning to the closeness and lowered voices. I followed – watching her significant derriere shift back and forth, and peeking at the creases and curves of her exposed bottom cheeks as they shifted below the edge of the short shorts. Surprisingly, she had only a little cellulite in those generous upper thighs. When we were around at the side of the house she took my hand again – kind of playfully leading me to the back entrance for a moment before she reached for the door handle. My feeling of connection was growing quickly.

No one seemed to be home. Dana guided us into the family room and answered my unexpressed question, “Jay and the boys are in Jacksonville at a baseball playoff. They’ll be eating supper up there.” She put her hand on my shoulder and kind of stroked it momentarily suggesting, “Why don’t you relax on the sofa while I get the tea.”

“Um hmm.” As we began to part her hand slid from my shoulder and down my arm. I caught her hand at the end of the slide to give it a little squeeze commenting, “So you’ve got the day to yourself. Do you enjoy a quiet day alone once in a while? I know I do – Connie too. She’s in Orlando for the day so I’m also having a day to myself.”

She looked at me with a warm smile when I squeezed and then she raised an eyebrow when I mentioned that Connie was in Orlando. She turned toward the kitchen as she replied, “I always try to enjoy personal time… I get so little of it.” I took a seat in the middle of the sofa.

She got the things from the kitchen, set the glasses on the coffee table and poured the tea before sitting down. When she leaned over to pour, her considerable breasts hung down to test her bra and tank top – the bra seemed more loosely fastened today and just barely handled its job. The view of pendulant cleavage was breathtaking. She caught me looking. With a mischievous smirk, “Tsk, tsk, tsk! Men” was all she said.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Bir yanıt yazın