The Woman Next Door.

Tags:

Hetero, BDSM, spanking, Dom/sub, big woman, 18+

An original story. Please respect copyright. The characters are from my imagination and have no counterparts in the real world.

Comments and votes welcome.

The woman next door.

Jack Blake had bought his house years ago, before the market for such properties rocketed. He lived in one of pair of semi-detached houses originally built as tied cottages for farm workers but now independent of the farm which was half a mile over the hill. Both houses were surrounded by large gardens. The house next door had been empty for several months since the elderly occupant, a widow, had slipped on her icy front path and cracked her head open on the stone step.

One Saturday morning, Jack was enjoying a late breakfast sitting out in the sun when he saw a large removal van and a Range Rover pull up next door. It was a woman who shuffled out of the car; an overweight woman wearing a loose flowery top and those ubiquitous black tights so much in favour. The tights were fully stretched over her large rump and the shade of her knickers was clearly visible beneath. The two men in the van started moving the large boxes and furniture into the house, the woman directing the operation. It was mid afternoon when she stood with hands on hips as she watched the van drive away. She turned wearily and made her way up the four stone steps and into the house.

Jack decided to introduce himself to his new neighbour. He made a pot of tea and set that, two mugs, milk, sugar and a plate of biscuits on a tray. He rang the bell at her front door. "I'm Jack Blake, your neighbour," he introduced himself. "You've never stopped all day so I thought you might welcome a cup of tea."

"Oh Mr Blake, you're an absolute angel. I'm parched." Her weary face changed to a happy smile. Just below the steps to the lawn, there was a garden table and chairs. Wearily she went down the steps and invited Jack to bring the tray and sit opposite her. "I'll be mother," she said and took charge of the teapot. When the beverage was poured, she held out her hand. "I'm Carol Brittan; pleased to meet you Mr Blake."

Her clasp was firm where Jack had been expecting something limp and floppy: her face was quite pretty when she smiled. "Moving house is hard work Ms Brittan, if you need any help at all, give me a shout. I'm home all weekend. And call me Jack."

"I might just take you up on that. I don't think I'm happy with the furniture layout now that I've seen it in place. I may want to change things around and I couldn't manage that on my own. Call me Carol; I don't think neighbours need to be too formal."

"I'd be happy to help all you want Carol. A bit of hard work will do me good."

"What do you do Jack, for a living? If that's not being nosey."

"I own a small printing workshop: posters, flyers, banners - more or less anything along those lines."

"Oh, not so very far removed from my profession: I'm a proof-reader and editor."

"Small world."

They made small talk for over an hour. Each found the other pleasant company but Carol eventually, and reluctantly said, "Well, I really must get back to work, Jack. Really nice to have met you."

"You'll probably be too exhausted to prepare a meal, Carol; I'm having a plate of cheese and ham with salad and crusty white bread and butter. I can make another plate just as easily. Why don't you come over when you're done for the day?"

"I couldn't impose myself on you like that Jack."

"It's not an imposition. It would be nice for me to look at a smiling face while I eat."

"Then that is right neighbourly of you. I don't suppose I'll be doing much more today: I am exhausted but I must get some of those boxes unpacked."

"Come over whenever you're ready. The salad will keep in the fridge."

They shook hands again and went their separate way: he returned home with the tray, she went back indoors and started unpacking her boxes, putting their contents away in their appropriate 'homes'. It was about 7 o'clock when she finally flopped onto the kitchen chair, sipping at a glass of water. Her mouth watered as she thought of the meal that nice man next door had offered. Her skin was slick with perspiration, her clothes were soaked. Wearily, she dragged her body upstairs to the bathroom where she stripped and stepped under the cool, refreshing shower.

An hour later she stood outside Jack's front door, now dressed in a loose-fitting cotton frock, and pressed the bell push. He looked her up and down briefly, smiled widely and said, "You look much fresher now Carol."

"I almost didn't come, I was feeling so exhausted, but a nice long shower helped and now, would you believe, I'm starving."

"Well don't stand there, come on in: it's all ready." He closed the door behind her, ushered her through to his kitchen and sat her down at the table. He retrieved two plates from the fridge, stripped off the cling film and placed one in front of her and the other opposite. Both plates held wedges of three different cheeses and two large slices of ham were rolled up. The fridge also produced a bowl of mixed salad and a bottle of dressing of his own making. There was a loaf of fresh bread and butter on the table already. What would you like to drink? I can offer you tea or coffee, orange juice or maybe you'd like a glass of chilled wine?"

"The wine sounds perfect Jack. Thank you."

They chatted comfortably through the meal, taking up where they had left off that afternoon. After the meal he offered her another glass of wine and invited her to sit out in the back garden to catch the last rays of the summer sun. She was happy with the idea so they sat side by side sipping at their wine.

"So Carol, is it Mrs Brittan?"

""No, I'm just plain old Miss Brittan. Never been married: a 'Spinster of this parish' as they say." She chuckled. "Never been caught in years and I didn't run fast either. I guess men don't like all these extra pounds."

"Don't you go denigrating yourself young lady. Some men like a bit of flesh to get a hold of - or to spank, if that's their kink."

"Don't be cheeky, 'Young lady' indeed. At 35 I'm no spring chicken. And as for some men liking a bit more flesh, they seem to have passed me by. So what about you Mr Blake? Are you married?"

He sighed deeply. "Well, I am 37 so respect your elders, young lady." He grinned to take the sting out of the remark. "But no, I never married although I was close at one stage. I was engaged to marry a woman called Sally. She was a big woman too but she got cold feet so we parted. We're still friends but no more than friends now, and not 'friends with benefits' as they say."

Carol looked over at her host speculatively. He was certainly a handsome man, only a couple of inches taller than her; his torso was solid and looked powerful. He didn't have bulging muscles but everything looked firm and strong. Her body reacted to the thought of those big powerful hands on her flesh but it was his penetrating pale blue eyes that really had her almost wilting inside. "So are you one of those men who like a bit of flesh to get hold of?"

"Don't forget 'and to spank.'" They both looked at each other long and hard but there was an increasingly awkward silence between them.

Eventually Carol drained her glass, stood, shook his hand, smiled and said, "Thank you Jack, for the lovely meal and your company. I'm exhausted and ready for bed."

Jack stood beside her, pulled her into a quick friendly hug. "Sleep well Carol. And don't hesitate to give me a shout if you need help with moving furniture around tomorrow." He walked with her through the house and round to her front door. She smiled her thanks to him, closed the door, went straight to her bedroom and crawled between the sheets in just bra and knickers. He returned home, poured the last glass of wine from the bottle then cleared up after the meal before making his own way to bed. He stripped and pulled the light covers over his naked body. Both of them drifted off to sleep with erotic thoughts tumbling in their minds.

7:42 was the time Jack read from his bedside clock. His big morning stiffy demanded a rush to the bathroom and, after relieving the bladder pressure, he took a quick shower. The forecast promised a blisteringly hot summer day so he wore only a close-fitting white T-shirt with a pair of white shorts over his white briefs and leather sandals on his feet; the white clothing emphasising his deep tan. He had a light breakfast and by nine o'clock was driving his lawnmower round his back garden.

It was the sound of the motor mower coming through her open bedroom window that awoke Carol next morning. She groaned as her back ached from all that bending and lifting yesterday. She felt she could stay in bed all day but knew there was work to be done so she heaved herself off the bed. She looked out of the window and saw Jack at work; she loved the smell of freshly cut grass and breathed in deeply. Sticking her head out of the window, she waved at him until he finally looked up and waved back: it was only then that she realised she was just in her underwear. "Oh well," she mentally shrugged, "at least I'm wearing my bra."

She too dressed to suit the weather; the sun had already burned off the morning chill. After seeing Jack, she decided white would also be cooler for her. Over her underwear she wore a loose fitting white blouse with a big scoop neckline; she struggled to pull up a pair of shorts which were skin-tight over the generous spread of her bum. After a light breakfast, she toured her new house, making mental notes of changes in the furniture placements she thought better. She realised that it was far more than she could manage alone but could she expect her neighbour to help? He had offered but was that just as a chivalrous offer, not to be taken seriously? There was only one way to find out: nothing ventured, nothing gained. She crossed over to the fence between the two properties, saw him apparently cleaning the mower and called him over. The perspiration was already trickling down his face and soaking into big wet patches on his shirt.

"Good morning Carol. Did you sleep well?"

"Dreamless and I'm well rested except for a few sore muscles, thank you. How about you?"

"I was tossing and turning all night with visions of ravishing your body," he laughed to show he was joking - but only partially.

Taking up on his outrageous flirtation she replied, "More tossing than turning, I'll bet."

They were both chuckling as he bent over the fence and touched his cheek to hers. She felt the sweat from his face on hers and put her hand up to feel where he had touched. Her nipples tingled.

"You've made me all wet," she scolded with a grin.

"But

where

are you wet?" He nodded sagely, implying more than he knew.

She felt herself blushing at the innuendo because it struck close to home, then continued seriously: "Jack, yesterday you offered to help me shift my furniture around. I'd be really grateful if you would help, if it's not too much to ask. I'll treat you to a slap-up dinner some evening this week," she promised enthusiastically.

"You don't have to treat me Carol. I'm happy to help you out. Give me a few minutes to tidy up here and I'll be with you. If we are going to be visiting each other, we could put a gate in this fence. Save that long walk around the front."

"I like that idea. Yes, it would be useful. OK, see you soon."

She was at the open door when he arrived, obviously having towelled himself dry on the way. He handed her a beer four-pack and asked her to put them in the fridge. "OK, where do you want to start?" he asked when she returned.

"Let's start in the bedroom."

"I've been waiting all my life to hear a lady say, 'Let's start in the bedroom'," he quipped.

"And maybe I've been waiting all my life to hear a gentleman say he wants to ravish my body." Her eyes were shining with the shared mirth and he was mesmerised by the swaying bottom almost in his face as she led the way up the stairs to the bedroom.

They both surveyed the room before she pointed at the ottoman under a window. "I want that moving out of the way and the bed can go there to catch the morning light." And so they started. It was heavy going as the huge oak bed had to be broken down to its component parts to be moved. The wardrobe was next: that had to be 'walked' from one side of the bedroom to the other . . . and so it continued until she declared herself satisfied with the room. Throughout the process, every time she bent down he could see clearly all the way down her blouse. The first time their hands touched as they worked, they were both extremely conscious of it and as the work progressed their accidental touches became more frequent. By the time they moved on to the second bedroom they were both sweating heavily.

Jack went down to the kitchen and brought two cans of beer from the fridge. Passing one to her, he sat on the edge of the bed, opened his own can and took a big draught from it. She flopped down next to him and took a long drink from her own can. He was mopping his face with the bottom of his shirt then just pulled it over his head and started trying to towel up the sweat from the rest of his body with it. Carol could not help herself: her eyes went to his broad chest with sweat streams channelling the curly hairs and trickling down past his navel to soak into the top of his shorts. He finished his beer and stood up.

"It's all right for men," she complained petulantly. "You can take your shirt off: we women can't."

"Hey!" He held his hands up in mock surrender. "I'm all for equal rights. You can take your top off too; it's entirely up to you."

She looked quizzically at him, trying to discern if he was joking but he said no more, just returned her stare steadfastly. It really was her decision, but they both knew they were at a threshold. Slowly she pulled her blouse over her head, revealing her unshaved underarms, and copied him in attempting to dry herself off with the soggy cloth. Then, almost defiantly staring him in the eyes, she opened the front of her bra and slipped it off her arms. Breathing heavily, she stuck her chest out as much as she could.

"That is naughty Carol."

She shrugged her shoulders and said in a husky voice, "Let's get on with the work." As they worked, his arm accidentally contacted her breast. They both froze for a moment then carried on as if nothing had happened but they both contrived to repeat it often. They had another beer then Jack went back home for another 4-pack of beers. It was gone 2 o'clock by the time they finished the work and the beers.

"Thank you for all your help Jack." She turned and hugged him, pressing her boobs into his chest. "I wish I had a swimming pool at the bottom of my garden," she sighed. "I could do with a nice cool dip."

"Would a hot tub be any kind of substitute?"

"You have a hot tub? Just lead me to it," she said. He took hold of her hand and led her round the front, along the road for the few yards to his front gate, through his house and to the back where the pool was ready for them. "I switched it on this morning before I came over."

He pulled his shorts down and off; he hesitated but decided to retain his briefs and climbed into the pool, his tool clearly outlined by the damp cloth. She wriggled out of her shorts but retained her knickers as she climbed in and sat opposite him. The water was deep enough just to float her breasts. They both sat back just relaxing in the warm water. Carol's examination of her host was unashamedly frank. His rugged face was complimented by his mousey brown hair with a receding hairline. As they had been moving the furniture around, she had enjoyed watching his muscles front and back as they rippled under his skin when he lifted anything. This was her idea of a real man and his flirtatious comments made her speculate that this man could fulfil some deep fantasies.

He studied her face with equal candour: it was pale with chubby doll-like features. Her hair, tied back in a pony tail, was a dark chestnut: her eyes a deep amethyst. She had a wide mouth, especially when she smiled, with generous lips that almost invited a kiss. He stood and bent towards her, offering her the kiss those lips invited. Breathlessly she bent towards him. The kiss was soft, explorative: man and woman both were holding their wilder passions under control. His hand moved down to fondle a breast then passed over her belly; his thumb hooked inside the waistband of her knickers and he tugged gently. "These will have to come off eventually when I punish you."

"Punish me? For what?"

"You brazenly undressed and displayed yourself to me."

"You said I could take my top off," she protested.

"Yes, but it was still your decision to flaunt yourself shamelessly. That was very naughty so don't you think you deserve to be punished? You also walked in the same state of undress along a public highway." Jack sat back down and watched her squirming. "I think that also warrants punishment, don't you?"

Carol's heart was aflutter, her breath coming in short pants, her nipples crinkled up and her pussy was twitching at the thoughts of him punishing her. "Jack, when you jokingly told me you dreamt of ravishing my body: let me tell you that was so close to my deepest fantasy. I

want you

to ravage me, savage me, use me and, if you wish, to abuse me:

make me your slut.

There, it's in the open." She stood, pulled her knickers off and handed them to him. He draped them over the rim of the tub and they both sat back, still looking at each other.

"Are you really sure that you want this, Carol? Do you want me to spank you?"

"I have been dreaming about this all my life. If you are really the man I need, all I have to say is that my Safe Word is RED: the rest is up to you. Jack, when I was a teenager, I was all curves in the best places. My body was to die for and I could take my pick of any male who took my fancy. I never found the man I wanted although I played the field. Whenever I asked for a spanking, they seemed to back off. Then as I turned twenty, I started to put the weight on: the more weight I gained, the fewer men wanted to date me. My last date was five years ago and he was just a wimp who wanted me to 'mother' him. Not my scene."

"I have always been partial to big women," Jack responded. "All that lovely flesh waiting for me to spank. Spank and more. Sally was the closest I ever came to my dream. She enjoyed being spanked by my hand but was reluctant about the paddle when I introduced that. One day I brought in one of those willow canes I used to tie up my tomatoes. I spanked her for a few minutes then I gave her six strokes of the cane. She had an orgasm as I entered her pussy from the back, and another when I ejaculated inside her but, when it was all over, she silently dressed herself, took the engagement ring from her finger. She placed it on the bedside table and said, 'It's over, Jack. I don't want a lifetime of this. Goodbye.' And she walked out of my love life. Are you the woman who can make me happy? You and I seem to be going in the same direction."

"Take me to your bedroom, Jack, and don't forget your paddle!"

He clambered out of the tub and helped her down. Holding her hand, he led her to his bedroom, gathering a couple of big towels on the way. He dried her body, kissing her everywhere as he did. She returned the favour and when she was on her knees in front of him she pulled his briefs down and off. The tumescent prick in front of her was no porn star's equipment but was satisfyingly large to her eyes. It looked so pretty she kissed the glistening jewel on the circumcised head before she finished drying him.

They hugged each other and Jack groped at her breasts and nipples; she felt for his tool that was now fully erect. They kissed again with growing passion until, unable to control himself any further, he pushed her to bend her over the bed. He stroked the broad expanse of her bottom then raised his hand and delivered the first hard slap and watched the flesh quiver under his hand. She sucked in her breath then slowly let it out. "Yes Jack, give me what I want."