Though many people may only admit it when pressed, we are at heart voyeurs. And nothing brings out the voyeur in people like the sight of new neighbors moving in. Under normal conditions, the average piece of furniture holds only a momentary interest, but placed in a moving van across the street it becomes a point of fascination on a par with state secrets and breeds all sorts of neighborhood gossip.
This fascination applies to a greater extent to the new neighbors who are carrying all that furniture into their new home. People will stand for hours watching newcomers lug chairs and sofas from that moving van to the house and play mental games with the information they gather, all in the hope of developing some insight into the folks moving in.
Do they have money? Will they give me some? Are they active or sedentary? Perhaps there is a new golfer in the neighborhood. There are no children helping. Do they have children? How many vehicles are there? What type? Maybe he is a gearhead. Maybe she is the gearhead.
In this sense, Ann Thornton could be considered an average neighbor. She stood back from her bedroom window watching as Jim and Margaret Neall moved into the cul-de-sac, and did, to some extent, take notice of the furniture and boxes being toted up the driveway and into the house. In an absent-minded way she noted that their style ran toward the Scandinavian.
However, Ann spent most of her time noticing Jim and Margaret, and the mental games she was playing had little to do with calculations of income and occupation; hobbies and social standing.
Jim was a tall blond who looked like he had spent a good deal of time swimming laps to keep in shape. He had that broad-shoulders tapering down to a narrow waist look that swimmers develop. Ann appreciated the fact that Jim was kind enough to wear a loose-fitting yellow tank top and white soccer shorts on moving day. It made observation and analysis easier.
"Yeah, that's it, bend over and pick up the box. Show me that tight butt of yours," Ann slowly muttered to herself. "I'll bet that wife of yours sinks her nails into that baby every chance she gets."
Ann's interest in her neighbors was definitely atypical. She had finished her morning coffee after having slept in this Saturday, and then wandered back upstairs to get a better view of the day's events. Her husband Bill had gone out early for a round of golf, but should be back by noon, if he and his cohorts did not stay for lunch and drinks. The sooner he got home the better, Ann thought. She was rapidly developing her own lunch ideas.
She had thrown on a crop top t-shirt and a pair of shorts this morning. She figured she could worry about shoes, bra, and panties if she decided to go out, otherwise she might as well be comfortable. The outfit was turning out to be very convenient as she watched Jim and Margaret working.
Margaret had on a red tank top of her own, a snug fitting pair of blue running shorts, and running shoes. Her wavy auburn hair was pulled back in a ponytail in an effort to keep herself cool while she was working. Her red bra straps could be seen peeking out from under the straps of the tank top.
"Running shorts? Do you go running with big boobs like those, girl?" Ann said. "That must hurt. I don't care what kind of bra you have on."
Jim and Margaret paused briefly to give each other a kiss. As they separated, Margaret pinched Jim's ass and headed over to the cooler under the tree in the front yard. Ann moaned quietly and moved her left hand up under the crop top to run her fingers lightly over the nipple of her right breast. She had nice nipples, they stuck out about half an inch when she was aroused, and she was definitely working toward becoming aroused.
Her right hand worked its way past the waistband of her shorts to verify she was as wet as she thought. She was soaked. She lubricated her finger then worked her way upward. She started with a slow circular motion to get warmed up. Her left hand pinched her nipple a little harder to get it to full size and heighten her arousal.
Margaret took two beers from the cooler and sauntered back over to where Jim was standing. Ann could tell Margaret said something to him and it caused him to laugh and grab Margaret tightly around the waist. He pulled her close and kissed her more fervently than before. As he did so she dropped her hand to his tight ass and gave it a good squeeze.
"Oh yeah, give it a squeeze. Can I squeeze it, too?" said Ann, as she pressed her breast with her hand.
Margaret laughed and pulled away pointing her finger at him. Jim threw up his hands in protest. She laughed and nodded at him. It was clear she said something to him. Jim looked around the neighborhood, shook his head and hooked a thumb toward their new house. His wife leaned over with her hands on her knees and pushed her tits together with her arms. She cocked her head and said something else.
Her husband scanned the area again and quickly grabbed another box. She stood up laughing. The woman took a sip of her beer. As her husband headed for the front door, she crept up behind him and pinched his butt again. Jim pivoted. He was smiling and said something in return. Ann focused on the muscles in his arms as he held the box while talking to his mischievous wife.
Now Ann's mind was filled with vivid images. As she stroked her clit faster, she pictured Margaret, without those running shorts, straddling Jim's lap. His dick was in her and those big hands were holding tight to her ass as she bounced up and down. Ann imagined Margaret stripping off her top and bra and shoving one of those magnificent boobs into Jim's eager mouth. In Ann's mind, Jim was well hung, with about eight fat inches of cock plowing into Margaret's wet pussy. Ann was looking forward to meeting her new neighbors.
Jim and Margaret Neall had gotten an early start on their move this morning. They were making good progress. They were excited to be getting out of their condo and into their first house. Fortunately, they had not accumulated too much stuff, so they were able to move themselves with a rented truck. None of their acquaintances were available to give them a hand.
At this point, many of the boxes were already in the house and they were ready to take a breather before tackling the heavy pieces of furniture. Margaret walked over to where Jim was standing at the rear of the truck.
"Hey, honey, how about taking a break for a beverage?" said Margaret. "I want you to conserve some of your strength to christen our new home." She rose up on her toes and gave him a quick kiss. As she stepped away, she pinched his butt. She went over to the cooler in the front yard and got two beers. She smiled at Jim and strolled over swinging her hips in her sexiest fashion.
"Hey there, wanna get drunk and screw, big boy?"
Jim laughed and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulled her close, and kissed her hard.
"Sure, babe, it won't be long now," he said.
Margaret's right hand latched onto her husband's rock-hard butt. She pulled back, laughing.
"The grass seems cool and soft," she said as she wagged her finger at him. "And you look hot?"
Jim put his hands up.
"Maybe let's not get arrested the first day in our new home," he suggested.
"Who's going to see us? Looks like everybody is sleeping in," she countered.
He looked around the cul-de-sac and shook his head.
"Better we go inside," he said as he indicated the direction to the door.
His sexy wife upped the ante by bending over and showing off her ample cleavage.
"Don't you think I'm hot, too?" she teased.
Jim scanned the neighborhood again, set down his beer, then grabbed another box.
"Very," he said as he started inside.
Margaret was not done playing. She took a swig of beer and followed him. She pinched his ass again and started laughing.
"Hey, watch it or I'll give your ass more than a pinch," he laughed.
"Okay, big boy, show the world what you can do," she challenged him.
Jim walked inside and set the box down. He came back out. Margaret was leering at him and nodding her head. As he headed to the truck, she stalked him. He grabbed his beer to take a sip and she slid up behind him.
