Circumstances compelled me to spend a month at my mother's house. She lives alone in a small, quiet town on the Florida coast. The neighborhood sits across the street from the beach, but few of the residents actually enjoy the ocean--the average age of the neighbors is closer to my mother's seventy years than my own forty-five. The shuffling of walkers and the occasional whir of electric scooters are the usual sounds punctuating the gentle background music of waves crashing on the shore.
The first two nights of my visit were unremarkable. I spent the day at the hospital with my mother, and returned in the late evening for a solo dinner followed by solo television and a session of solo sex in front of my computer. The monotony was oppressive, but I was doing my duty as the diligent son.
On the third morning I awoke to a welcome surprise--a cold front had rolled in overnight, dropping the temperature by fifteen degrees. It would provide a welcome relief from the heat in my mother's fifty year old home that was fitted with air conditioning installed while Jimmy Carter was president.
It was still pleasant when I returned from the hospital that evening. Upon entering the house, I quickly raced through every room and opened every window. In less than one-half hour the house was cool and for the first time I looked forward to sleeping.
I went to bed a little after midnight. I undressed, opened my laptop, pulled up my favorite porn sites, and leaned back against the headboard. Thirty minutes later I closed the computer, wiped the juice off my belly, and laid down to rest.
With the windows open I was exposed to a new universe of sound--in the background I heard the steady rhythm of waves breaking on the beach; from two blocks away I heard a TV blaring the late night Sports Center; and just outside the window, the palm trees were rustling in the wind. I was sound asleep in minutes.
Sometime later I was awakened by the crashing of metal and wood against concrete. Grunting noises--both male and female--rounded out the cacophony. It took me a second to wake up and another second to realize what I was hearing.
Someone is fucking right outside my bedroom.
I stood up and peeked through the front window. I saw nothing but an empty street. I looked out the side window. In the dim light I could see the wooden fence that separated my mother's yard from the neighbors'. I could see the shape of the bedroom window rising a few feet above the fence, but there were no lights on in the house. Nonetheless, I knew that the sexual symphony I was hearing originated from the open window on the other side of the fence.
Cloaked in darkness, I squinted and strained, searching for a glimpse of the couple whose lovemaking had disturbed my sleep. But no matter how hard I stared at the top half of that window, all I saw was darkness.
As the sounds of the bed springs stretching, the headboard banging into the wall, the woman's moans and the man's grunts rose to a crescendo, I found my hand wrapped around my fully erect cock, stroking it back and forth. I stood at the window and masturbated for several minutes, driven by the sound of the couple fucking next door.
After a few minutes I realized that no matter how hard I stared, I wasn't going to see anything; I could hear just as well from the bed as I could from the window. It made much more sense to lie down and make myself comfortable, rather than stand at the window jacking off and hoping I climaxed before I developed cramps in my legs.
Lying down was not only more comfortable, but it also freed my imagination. I could not recall ever having seen the neighbors, so I tried to picture the youngest, sexiest women in the neighborhood. There was a young mom on the corner--a little thin for my taste, but still pretty in a trailer trashy kind of way. There were two fifty-something sisters across the street; they were both heavy, but the younger of the two was a pretty redhead that I would fuck in a minute. There was a thick African-American woman two houses down with big breasts and an enormous ghetto booty; she would be one hell of a ride.
I was having a hard time thinking of anyone else who did not have silver hair and a walker, when I noticed that the two lovers were becoming much more vocal. She was urging him to push it deeper, and his grunts became louder and with every stroke. My rhythm matched theirs; I imagined that it was my cock pushing into the plump redhead from across the street. As her moans grew longer and more intense, my speed increased. When she started panting that she was cumming, I erupted--shooting my second load of the evening all over my belly.
I lay on the bed for a minute, and then got up and went to the bathroom to clean up. Without turning on any lights I grabbed a few sheets of toilet paper, wiped off the semen, and went back to sleep.
An hour later I was awakened again by the sounds of sex floating through the window. I didn't masturbate this time; once is healthy, twice is self-indulgent, and three time is just a total lack of self-discipline, I told myself. Instead, I tried very hard to match the woman's voice to a face. Despite my best efforts, I could not identify the originator of those moans. After a while, I gave up on memory and let my imagination take over. By the time her pussy was filled with her partner's second load of cum, I was picturing a mid-thirties brunette, with wide hips, heavy breasts, and a shaved pussy. I imagined her the mother of two small children, descended from Eastern Europe, and perhaps a pre-school teacher or secretary. In my mind she was all innocence on the outside, and wanton whore on the inside. No matter how much of my creation turned out to be inaccurate, I knew I got at least one detail right.
The next morning I got up, showered, dressed, and put on some coffee. I opened the front door and walked to the road to pick up the morning paper. I realized that I did not pick up yesterday's mail, so I turned and started toward the mailbox. My mother's mailbox shares a post with the neighbors' box, which is located at the end of their driveway. Just as I stepped toward the post, the front door of the neighbors' house opened. An older woman in a knee-length pink robe emerged from the house and walked toward the end of the driveway. Most of her brassy blonde hair--with dark brown and grey roots--was piled on top of her head and held in place by a large plastic clip; several locks had escaped confinement and were blowing in the breeze. As she walked toward me I could see that she had a pretty face beneath the smear of last night's make up. I guessed her age to be around sixty-five, but it could easily have been five years in either direction.
"Beautiful morning," she called to me.
"I love this weather," I answered.
The woman stepped over her newspaper, turned to face me, and then bent over and reached for the bundle. The top of her robe opened, revealing almost all of her breasts. They were a nice size--probably a C-cup--but had long ago lost the war with gravity. Her brown nipples stood out in the cool morning air. She reached for the paper, lingering a little longer than necessary in the bent forward position. A second later she grasped the paper and stood up. Her robe closed as she returned to the upright position.
Did that just happen?
She extended her right hand in my direction, while clutching the newspaper against her chest with her left hand . I took her palm and gave a gentle shake.
Was this the woman I heard getting fucked last night?
I felt my cock stirring in my jeans.
"You must be Joanna's boy. I'm Evelyn--nice to meet you."
"I'm William. I'm here for a few weeks to help my mom, once she gets out of the hospital."
"How's Joanna doing?"
"The doctor said the surgery went well. As soon as she can get up and walk around, they should be sending her home. A couple more days, I imagine."
"She's lucky to have you here. If you need anything, just ask. My husband and I will do anything we can."
"Thank you. I appreciate that."
"Anything for Joanna's boy."
"Is it just the two of you living here?"
"Yes, our children are all grown. We moved into this house two years ago when Roger retired."
It
was
her!
Before I knew what was happening, she pulled me toward her and gave me a quick hug. It was over in a second, but in that brief moment I caught a good whiff of her aroma. The scent of stale cum and rank pussy wafted to my nose, overwhelming my senses.
No doubt about it--it was definitely her.
I inhaled deeply, taking in as much of her funk as the morning breeze would allow, and then released her.
"Take care, honey," she said. "And give my best to Joanna."
I watched her walk away, and then I turned and went back into the house.
The rest of the day followed the familiar routine. A half hour drive to the hospital; sitting all day with my mother; flirting with the nurses; half hour return drive; culminating in another solo dinner. I did do one thing differently: Before going to bed I looked up some "over-sixties" porn. I was surprised not only by the sheer number of such videos, but also by how hot some of the women looked to me. I resisted the urge to masturbate; I just browsed the clips for an hour and then went to sleep with a raging erection.
I don't know how long I slept, but once again I was awakened by the sound of the neighbors fucking just outside my bedroom. Just as I did the night before, I went to the side window and peered over the fence at their house. But unlike the previous night, light was streaming from the master bedroom window and the blinds were fully open. Unfortunately, the privacy fence between the two houses was doing exactly what it was designed to do--keeping my prying eyes from seeing the activity occurring in the bedroom.
