A quickie from me while the sun was hiding. In this one, MILF Susan fancies her fit, young new neighbour. She sees him ogling her breasts and decides to put on a little show for him in her garden while she thinks he's watching from an upstairs window. She gets carried away when she believes he's actually watching through a gap in the fence planks ...
I hope you enjoy the piece, even if it's a little shorter than my usual.
Forgive any errors that are likely to remain in the text and, please, send feedback.
GA - Belize City, Belize - 10th July 2012.
He had to be watching. I'd made enough noise scraping the garden furniture around on the patio to attract his attention, and I made doubly sure I placed the sun-lounger in a spot where it would be just out of his sight from that upstairs window. If he was going to watch me in the garden I knew it would have to be from the top floor window of his house; no other room overlooked my patio, which I knew that from when Lydia, my previous next-door-neighbour, had owned the place. It was an odd feeling, a paradoxical divide between a desire for privacy and yet wanting, almost needing to flaunt myself in front of him. My heart hammered in my chest, and my stomach felt weak and watery whenever I thought about what I was doing. On a logical level I was appalled, but that still didn't stop my pussy from juicing with anticipation as I laid the groundwork.
After pouring a chilled glass of White Grenache I paused at the patio doors and took a deep breath before sauntering out into the garden.
Was he watching? I wondered as I moved slowly across the lawn. I hoped he was; I hoped he was up there now, studying me, his eyes moving over my body as I pretended to inspect the summer roses and other blooms. Was he looking at me right now? Were his eyes on my buttocks as I leaned forward, the brief bikini bottoms stretching tight?
I turned and paused again, sipping wine while I gave him a good, long look at my breasts. I knew, if he was there, that he'd be looking at my tits; he'd not been able to stop himself ogling my boobs when he'd helped me with my supermarket shopping from the car the day before.
"Settled in all right?" I'd asked as he dumped the last bag onto the kitchen counter.
"Yep," Sam had replied, grinning and showing me his white, even teeth. That was when I'd felt my pussy clench; while he stood there, hands on denim-clad hips, his tee-shirt flat against the slabs of pectoral muscle and tight stomach. He'd replied, looking all sexy: "All unpacked, got the Sky hooked up, and even have a fridge full of beer for the house-warming party ..." He'd looked at me and, as he turned those blue eyes on me, I was sure my cunt growled. "I'm having a few of the boys over tomorrow night," he said. "It might get a little noisy ..." Then, while I was just dreaming about Sam's lean-muscled arms and potentially clitoris-diddling, dexterous fingers, he added, "But I wondered if you might like to come around for a few drinks too? If you wanted to ... If you weren't busy ..."
So I agreed to the house-warming, and why not? How could I turn down a chance to ogle fit men half my age and get sloshed into the bargain? I couldn't let an opportunity like that go by, and besides, when I'd noticed Sam glancing surreptitiously down my cleavage every time he thought I wouldn't notice, I had to suppress a real urge to just kiss his mouth and rub the palm of my hand over the bulge in his jeans.
The idea to exhibit myself came in bed later that night. With a rubber cock jammed inside me and a small vibrator buzzing on my clit, I came up with the idea to tease Sam. I thought I'd be clever and seduce my sexy young neighbour at his party, but first I'd give him an eyeful of the goods β which was why I was out in the garden, drinking White Grenache and wearing the briefest bikini I owned at midday on a Saturday.
I sipped at the wine and resisted the urge to look up at Sam's upstairs window. Instead I nonchalantly, or so I hoped it appeared, strolled around the garden while my pussy clenched and siped desire into my bikini bottoms.
"You randy old tart," I muttered to myself. "Why don't you just knock on his front door and tell him you're going to fuck his brains out?" I chuckled and shook my head. The answer was simple. "Because," I continued my monologue, "this is turning you on so much. It's so much more fun to tease the poor boy."
Is he up there?
I wondered.