It was hot out. It was summer. I was done with cleaning my room and listening to music. I was in the back yard trying to get my record of keeping up the soccer ball into the hundreds. This was the summer before college, but friends had gone off with families to special vacations and I didn't have a whole hell of a lot to do.
As my mind wandered to the plans for college, to packing, to leaving home my concentration dipped and the ball took a heavy bounce off my knee, floating over the eight foot high fence into our neighbor's yard. It wasn't the first time—though it might be the last. Booting balls over the past few years generally involved walking all the way around, knocking, and waiting, though with the upside of potentially seeing Julie and her friends. She was a couple of years older than me and had now left for college. She was really athletic and when she had her "Going to College" pool party at her house it was a very special day for an impressionable teen who could just peek out from his bedroom window and see into the neighbor's yard and watch, in secret, the youthful frolicking in their pool.
But I barely saw Julie now, and she didn't show me much attention anyway, so it wasn't like I was losing out on much.
I jumped up and grabbed on to the top of the fence, my knees and feet banging into it with noisy force, and pulled myself up so I could peer over. I was getting in a mini work-out on my biceps, so that was a bonus.
But I nearly dropped straight down when I finally peered over the fence. Julie's mom, Mrs. Carter. But more specifically, her ass decked in tight yoga pants. It was pointed straight at me. She was bent at the waist and I barely noticed her head, peering between her knees back at me as she maintained her pose.
"Sorry, sorry, Mrs. Carter...didn't mean to disturb. Ball. Fence... Pool." I blurted nervously as I noticed my soccer ball bobbing idly, coming to rest next to an inflated blue lounger.
I dropped back to the ground.
"Sorry again. Will come around later. Sorry...sorry."
My voice trailed off.
"Ty, come fetch the ball, don't be silly. I'll unlock the front door," her voice trilled from the other side of the fence.
Nervously I walked down our driveway, hopped the bushes separating the properties, and heard the lock click on the front door. I was nervous just because it was awkward. Mr. and Mrs. Carter had always been friendly in a neighborly way. It wasn't like our families went on vacations together, but there was an occasional Fourth of July barbeque or Halloween jaunt over the years. And on those occasions I would perv on their daughter, Julie. I will neither confirm nor deny whether my buddies and I sometimes purposely threw a baseball into their yard when we heard her with her friends in the pool.
The front door was slightly ajar and I pushed it forward gently, yelling a soft "hello?" as I did so.
I heard Mrs. Carter's trill voice peel back at me.
"Come on through, hon, you know where to go."
I slipped off my sneakers on the front mat and tip-toed through the lush carpet towards the large kitchen.
"There's lemonade on the counter top if you're thirsty," I heard her say, "...or a beer in the fridge, help yourself."
I thought it best to retrieve the ball and be done. But on this hot day both the lemonade and the beer sounded like appealing options.
I slid open the meshed door leading to the back yard. Mrs. Carter was straddling her chaise with her back to me. A floppy weave sun hat now appeared casually tossed on her head.
"It's stopped in the middle!" she said with a smirk, nodding towards the pool where my ball sat almost motionless about as far from all the edges as it's possible to get.
As I stopped to assess the situation Mrs. Carter pointed to the chaise next to hers. "Relax, Ty, all good. I was done with my workout, so now enjoying my reward..." as she held up a pint glass full of yellow, orange, and brown colors, a cherry, little umbrella, and straw.
"Nothing like a perfect mai tai on a day like today. Stick around a bit and I'll make you one. My specialty, a party hit!"
I smiled. I know it was an awkward smile. Mrs. Carter chuckled lightly as she sucked deeply from the straw into her ideal cocktail.
Seconds into the silence that followed Mrs. Carter leaned back on her chaise, let out a deep, contented sigh, and hit what appeared to be ideal relaxation state. I now immediately started to scan for ways to leave, even if without the ball.
"Oh, damn, what am I thinking?" Mrs. Carter suddenly exclaimed as she sat up and swung her frame around me in a surprisingly nimble manner. I was startled a little and looked straight at her as I finally realized she was wearing just a hefty sports bra with those yoga pants. Her breasts rolled inside, and the line of her cleavage deepened as she squashed them together with her arms as she leaned forward with an earnest look.
"I have a job for you, if you want it. Mr. Carter suggested asking you, and here am I, sweaty and now relaxing, nearly forgot."
I remained bemused.
"You see that pile of dirt over there," as she pointed towards the far corner of her extensive yard, "we need it spreading down that fence...for the veggies. We'll pay, of course, probably take a few hours, but if you want something to do other than boot soccer balls into our pool, then it's yours."
I could use the cash, that's for sure, with college looming and the fear-mongering of all the reports on its long-term financial implications. And I'd be outside. And I'd get a workout. Why not?
"Sure thing, Mrs. Carter. Thanks for the offer. Do you want me to start now?"
"If you want, get going. The shovels, tools, whatever it is are all over there already. Just spread it as evenly as you can. If you need anything, you know where it all is, and I'll be topping up the tan."
Two hours and what felt like two tons of dirt later I heard Mrs. Carter call out, beckoning me to come over. I was ready for a break and one of those beers or a mai tai sounded awfully good right about now.
After replacing all the tools, mopping the sweat from my head on my sodden, soaked t-shirt, I lumbered towards the pool. Rubbing sweat from my eyes I looked up to see that Mrs. Carter had evidently changed. She was wearing a blue one-piece bathing suit that, as I got closer, evidently had a mesh oval in the middle of the chest that provided clear view of the inside curves of ample breasts. It was a surprisingly sexy look that I recognized soon enough to remind myself to keep my eyes up on hers as we were about to talk.
"You've put in a great effort today, Ty. I was watching, expecting you to quit ages ago. You most definitely deserve a drink—what'll it be?"
She lifted the straw of her mai tai to her freshly painted lips and sucked, keeping her eyes locked on mine the entire time. Maybe it was just her way, but I could have sworn my innocent eyes witnessed for the first time that enigmatic glint of a flirtation.
"If you don't mind, I guess I'll have one of those," I said, nodding towards her glass.
"Back in a sec," Mrs. Carter beamed as she elegantly jumped to her feet, placing her glass on the side table, and dashing to the kitchen.
That was, I thought, quite an enthusiastic response to fetching a drink, and evidently the fact that I was under-age—and she knew it—didn't bother her in the slightest.
Mrs. Carter was in her mid or late 40s in my estimation. She had a medium build, a bit of a tummy, but a well-cared for face free of wrinkles that glistened under what I guess was expensive sunscreen. She was undoubtedly attractive by any definition, a fact only reinforced as she walked back to the chaise holding a pint glass in one hand and a pitcher in the other. She positively beamed as she placed them on the table and repositioned herself on the chaise, hoisting the shoulder straps of her suit as she did so, which I couldn't help but noticed lifted her breasts before they settled in place.
"That's my special mai tai," she said, pointing to the pint glass filled with a golden liquid that merged into brown, topped by a small paper umbrella and a cherry. "And that's the pitcher of the mixer that isn't quite so carefully crafted, but does the trick...if you know what I mean." A devilish grin crossed her lips.
I took the glass and sipped at the straw. Wow, that was refreshing. So fruity, so interesting, and quite probably with quite an unexpected kick on its underbelly.
"Before too much of that, you should retrieve your ball, it's still stuck out there...and looking at your shirt, you should lose that and the dip should be quite refreshing."
"I don't have my trunks," I said coyly.
"Don't mind me. You wouldn't be the first, you certainly won't be the last to skinny-dip in this pool," she said with a wry giggle. "Oh, I'll look away if you're shy!"
She was teasing me, I knew it, but I did want to get rid of this shirt, and the pool would be refreshing, and I was wearing my boxers. I was clearly convincing myself. I stood up and tiptoed across the hot concrete to the edge of the pool, pulled my shirt over my head, and unbuttoned my shorts. I just let them drop, quickly stepped out, and dropped into the pool, not looking back or wondering what Mrs. Carter was staring at or thinking. I dipped under the water—it was so cool, so perfect—and took a few strokes to reach the ball and headed back to the side.
Mrs. Carter had stood up and was now at the edge of the pool holding a towel and my drink. I looked up as I reached her and she cut an imposing figure. I lifted myself out and stood awkwardly close to Mrs. Carter as she held up first my drink. I took it and gulped down a large sip...and stood there, ball in one hand, drink in the other as Mrs. Carter didn't move.
"Let me give you a hand," she said, as she started to pat dry my chest, "turn around, let me get your back."
I did as commanded, slowly, taking another deep gulp on the delicious mai tai.
Her hands patted down my triceps, across my back and then over my butt as I tensed slightly, but she continued down the back of my legs, and I sensed her kneeling down to be thorough, I assumed.
"Back around, Ty," Mrs. Carter said, maybe even cooed.
I looked down and yes, she was on her knees right in front of me and I became instantly conscious of how the soft thin cotton clung to my skin. I could feel it on my thigh, up around my abdomen, and down the shaft of my penis. I could barely look. Surely Mrs. Carter could see the outline. God, she's close enough she could almost certainly make out my glans and head. I tensed as she brushed the towel lightly down my shorts with a touch soft enough to open whatever channels resulted in blood making its way down there. I was mortified as I started to feel the arousal emerging.
Mrs. Carter rubbed the towel down the front of my legs, then looked up at me from her knelt position.
"You should get out of these wet things, let them dry...and let it free!" She raised a single eyebrow in the way I'd practiced and failed to perfect for years.
My mind raced with outcomes. Drink in one hand, ball in the other, I felt paralyzed. It never occurred to me just to drop the ball. So my first response was to gulp down the remainder of the mai tai as I felt Mrs. Carter's fingers hook into the eleastic of my shorts and start to pull them down. She had them at mid-thigh, fully exposing my growing manhood when I finally slammed the glass on the table, awkwardly hauled my shorts up-which only succeeded in pointing my penis out towards her as my testicles caught over the elastic-and bolted for teh driveway.
