As Saturday strikes noon, Spring approaches Summer and the blossoms start to fall, Allie Everett decides that sunbathing season has arrived. So she takes her sunglasses, her sandals and her beach blanket, and she lays herself out in the garden.
Allie's a tall girl, and so her legs stretch past the blanket's length and out onto the lawn; green blade tickle her ankles, and she frowns a little. She'll have to get her - no, wait, she herself is going to have to mow the lawn. Perhaps there were downsides to being single after all.
But a little overgrown grass isn't going to ruin her day. She has no work, no plans and the beginnings of a tan, which will hopefully be improved by the time she heads back to the office. Saturday, Sunday Bank Holiday Monday, with sun predicted three days of three; plenty of time to have to herself.
See her stretch out, luxuriating in the warm weather. See the straight gold hair that fans out across her blanket, the sapphire eyes behind dark glasses, the pursed ruby lips. Look at the buxom swell of her chest, huge even when she lies on her back, so big you could imagine them falling back into her own face. How does she have so much chest yet such a trim stomach? Allie stretches her legs wide as she lounges in the light and her skin seems to glow, as if taking on the qualities of the sunlight it's absorbed.
She's being watched.
In the window of the house opposite, a young man stares. He's eighteen and a virgin, with a girlfriend who loves to tease but refuses to put out. He is therefore, understandably, horny as a goat in the rutting season. He stares at Allie with a laserbeam intensity, his lust burning as relentlessly as the sun that shines above, but all he can think of is that it's her who's like the sun, dazzling to look upon. But just like the sun, she's far away and untouchable.
His pants are down, his cock is out, and he pumps that teenage dick with a desperate intensity. Vivid images erupt in his mind's eye, stoked by the vision of loveliness that lounges on the grass outside his window. Images of him doing to Allie the few things his girlfriend would let him do to her: Of kissing her, groping her, rubbing his throbbing teenage dick against the hem of her white bikini shorts, shorts so tight that he can see the outline of the heaven that lay beneath. He pumps to her tits and her hips and her lips, barely managing to keep his cock under control as he begs this heaven to last.
He pumps all the harder as Allie raises one leg and crosses it over the other, cursing as her bottoms are hidden from view, but marvelling at the long sensuous smoothness of those outstretched legs.
One of Allie's sandals lies discarded on the ground but the other dangles from the tips of her toes, and in a sudden flash of insight he understands what the foot fetishists are going on about; looking at them, for a moment all he wants in life is to suck Allie's toes like lollipops.
If only, he thought. If only. If only he had an excuse to be over there, and a way to catch her attention.
Maybe he does. He thinks it suddenly, the whispering thought giving him a jolt. Maybe, just maybe, he does. She was single now, after all. She was single and had kept the house. It wasn't like he was a stranger to chores, and even from here he could see how the grass was getting long and the bushes unruly.
That's what he'll do, he decides. He'll offer her his services, impress her with how handy he is, and then when they were done she will lean in until he could fall into her cleavage and thank him with warm breath in his ear for all his hard, hard work, and say that maybe there was a way she could show her appreciation...
Well. Who knew?
The young man's thoughts spiral into fantasy as Allie soaks up sunbeams, crossing her arms behind her head. He dreams of blowjobs and titjobs and thighiobs, of running his tongue over every inch of his sexy neighbour, of putting every inch he has deep inside the treasure between her legs. In the theatre of his mind's eye she's besotted with him, moaning his name like a fanatic calls to god as he fucks her like a hero.
Of course, eventually some part of him remembers that he's never gone beyond second base, would have to consult a diagram to be sure about finding the clitoris, and sometimes gets so overwhelmed at having his girl in his lap that he has to take a minute (and no more) to give himself relief in the bathroom. This doesn't halt his fantasies, of course, but does rather cause them to take on certain "sexy experienced woman takes the lead, shows me how it's done and makes a man of me" vibes.
What does halt his fantasies is her gaze.
Deep in his fantasy world Allie bounces atop him, tits rising and falling like the hopes of horny men, whispering sweet nothings about what a natural he is as he fondles her perky ass. His dreamself is going to cum on those tits. Once he's done, once she's done, he'll throw her to the floor and fuck those big perky jugs until they're smothered with his cum. But not yet. Not yet...
And as he jerks it desperately, moaning to himself, hips pumping needily as precum leaks from his tip, a rare cloud passes the sun - and his eyes snap back to the waking world. Down there is Allie, not riding him with the passion to break bedslats but removing her sunglasses to look out at the world with her shining blue eyes. Maybe she just took them off because of the shade...and maybe her raised eyebrow is a trick of the light.
But it seems to the young man that she's looking straight at him. The spike of shock and adrenaline at being found out sends his heartrate through the roof, and excitement like that can have only one ending.
"Uuuugh!" He groans, his fantasies cut short in a blast of pleasure that becomes shame. He jizzes all over his own trousers, his boxers, the front of the windowsill, heart pounding in his chest, cumming so hard he thinks he's gonna go blind. Next thing he knows he's sat there gasping for breath before scuttling away from the window, moving to surreptitiously clean himself up as an awkward post-nut clarity strikes.
It says something about how his fantasies might really play out, he thinks, if that's how he acts when Allie so much as looks at him. Maybe he should learn to walk before dreaming of marathons.
And maybe he should focus on the girl he already has before getting ambitious.
Allie heads inside.
A new day dawns in a ray of Sunday sunshine, cloudy for now but promising to end up even more glorious than the previous. Our girl keeps herself busy through the morning, hoovering here, doing dishes there, vaguely missing the convenience of having a partner to share the load with. Not too much, of course; he never did his fair share anyway.
By the time 1pm rolls around it's me-time for Allie Everett. In shorts and a tee she hops on the bus, aiming to pick up a new trashy romance from the bookshop in town.
It takes her twenty minutes to get in, five to be sold on a new fantasy series by the girl in the bookstore, and ten more to organise evening drinks with her bestie later on. Coffee and cake takes up a little more time, but by half three she's safely home and the clouds have cleared on schedule, so into the garden she goes. This time she strips down to her black and frilly underwear before padding out back in her sandals, a vision of Venus emerging from the sliding door.
She's watched again, of course.
Not by the would-be playboy in the house behind, not today. He's off on a date, playing footsie with his girlfriend while surreptitiously using his phone to look up sex tips for beginners. As he tries and fails to get past second base, however, another figure is watching.
In the house to Allie's right, the main bedroom window offers a view into the neighbour's garden.
The man who lives there finds himself staring, lucky enough to be cleaning the window while his wife is away. He finds himself staring as the gorgeous minx next door stretches languidly in the warm Spring breeze, feels his pants tightening as he takes in the sway of her hips. Lewd fantasies fill his mind as she descends her patio steps, tits bouncing with every movement. She reminds him of his wife ten years ago, her tits perkier and ass firmer than the woman he knows today.
It goes without saying, mind you, that his wife today looks rather more like her wedding picture than he does.
Allie turns and he shrinks back without thinking. His first thought is fear; what if she saw? What if she told his wife? She had forgiven his past... indiscretions, he knew - the ones she'd known about, and the ones she'd suspected. But wives and judges alike look down on repeat offenses.
And yet there's no sign Allie has seen him. The blonde simply lies down on her stomach, kicking her feet in the air, cracking open her novel without a care in the world. He got lucky.
Or maybe, another thought occurs, she did notice. Maybe she didn't mind.
Maybe she wanted him to see.
What would happen, he asked himself, if he went out into the garden? If he said hello? Well, he amends, he probably wouldn't do it now. Girls don't tend to like being hassled while they read; it's a cliché for a reason. But perhaps one of these days he could contrive to be out there at the same time, or...
Well. She had just broken up with her boyfriend, hadn't she? She was newly single. Hello Allie, so sorry to hear about you and, uh, whatever his name was, is everything all right? Here's a cake Shelley baked for you, you know she felt so bad when she got the news. We're always ready to help you with anything you might need, anything at all, it's what good neighbours do, isn't it? What was that? Why yes, of course I would like to come in for some coffee...
...And some cake.
It's the cake that draws his attention, the outrageous junk in Allie's trunk. So round, so shapely, like a great ripe delicious peach. The sort of thing he used to call a Dutch Arse, growing up. God only knew what the word was now, but he had a feeling that men had had words for an ass like Allie's since the days they were living in caves, and would still have them once they're living on Mars.
Meanwhile, Allie's attention is on her novel. She'd gotten through the early scenes back in town, and now was just about reaching the juicy bits. You know the sorts I mean. The bits that get called 'steamy' in online reviews and come with words like 'mewled' or 'throbbing manhood'. Perhaps not high-brow, Allie thinks with a smile, but who cares about that? Sex for the sake of sex was nothing to be ashamed of.
And oh, she's having fun with this one. The girl at the bookshop knew her tastes well; having Vanessa with the blue hair call something 'seriously spicy' was a solid recommendation where Allie was concerned. As the male lead whips out an unrealistically sized member she feels herself heating up, and stretches luxuriously as the virginal heroine takes it with equally implausible ease. Allie grows wet as the scene heats up, her cheeks going red as the prose turns purple. Her legs rub together as her feet kick back and forth.
Ah, what a shame to be single. For all his flaws, her ex had worked hard at that. He'd known he had to provide the relationship with something. Unfortunately, what he'd chosen to provide had been something Allie could replace with a few quid off of Amazon and a fistful of batteries. He'd have had better luck learning to cook.
Still, it was nice to have a warm body doing the work. There was nothing quite like a living, breathing partner to get the motor running, even if an electric motor could give you the goods in a pinch.
