Rachel was kneeling, weeding in her garden in her front yard when she saw her neighbor's car come to a screeching halt on the street in front of her house. It was unseasonably warm on this Friday in early March in Colorado Springs. Spring seemed to be descending on the mountain town very early this year – there was no snow on the ground, and the past two weeks had witnessed average daily temperatures steadily climbing from the 30s to the high 60s. People who lived there started dressing like it was summer. They threw open their windows to get some fresh air in their homes, they drove around town with their windows and tops down soaking up the sun and the fresh mountain air, and acres of skin were on display peeking through tank tops, shorts and mini skirts.
Rachel decided that she, too, would take advantage of the nice weather and get a head start on preparing her yard for her summer garden. She was also dressed in a tank top and a pair of shorts which, for her, was a bold statement. She grew up as the daughter of two very conservative fundamentalist Christians. Since leaving home and living on her own, she had taken a few baby steps toward living a slightly more liberated life. Her definition of liberation, however, was to wear pants every once in a while instead of a dress. She undoubtedly still had a long way to go, and was not sure just how far she wanted to go. She still went to church and she had a boyfriend whom she planned to marry. On their dates they kissed passionately and did some heavy petting. Her passion had gotten the better of her and she had succumbed to her past boyfriend's sexual advances on two past occasions, but both of those attempts had gone so horribly wrong and were so completely unsatisfying that she decided it wasn't worth the guilt. With her current boyfriend, she was saving sex for marriage.
Still, Rachel was proud of the step she had taken to live on her own and know independence before accepting the dependence of marriage. She had not lived in her small house long, only for about 6 months. She had met her neighbor, Artemisia, who lived in the house to the right of hers, but they had only talked briefly. She seemed to be so busy with her job and frequent traveling that they never found the time to make good on their plans to get together over dinner or coffee to really get to know each other. So Rachel knew only very little about her. She was a small woman – about 5'2", of French-Canadian origin, and a writer. Her parents taught literature – thus the name – and she lived alone and was not married. She seemed nice and was always friendly, but on this day when her car skidded to a stop in front of her house, Rachel was frightened and thought something must be wrong. Artemisia jumped out of the passenger seat of her car and ran toward her front door, followed by a large dark man who was running after her with a sinister leer on his face. She didn't even return Rachel's wave hello.
Rachel stood wondering if Artemisia was in danger, but knew better as she watched the man caress Artemisia's behind while she unlocked her front door. Rachel wasn't offended at the interracial couple, but did find their size differential striking. Artemisia was a small woman, and he stood almost a foot over her. Watching the lewd display of him caressing and squeezing her behind in broad daylight let Rachel know that their moral standards for premarital conduct were obviously lower than hers. She shook her head and returned to her gardening once the couple had taken their frolicking into the house and the door slammed behind them. She wouldn't dare allow her boyfriend Kenny to grope her like that in public. She wondered just how licentious one must be in private if that was what one did in public. Rachel rushed the mental image of a couple engaged in hot sex out of her head, feeling morally superior that she did not do such things. At least, that is what she told herself, suppressing the twitch in her privates that accompanied the brief image of hot, lustful, premarital sex.
Just when she had safely put such thoughts of sex behind her and returned her mind to the plants and herbs she was planting this season, a noise of screams and yelps disturbed her concentration. The sounds were coming from the space between hers' and Artemisia's house. Theirs were small bungalow style houses, built with less than 10 feet separating each one. Listening more closely, she heard loud smacks anticipating every cry. Was that Artemisia? Walking to look down the side of both their houses, she noticed Artemisia's bedroom window was open, but she could not see inside from the angle at which she stood. She didn't dare walk down the side of her house and peek in, it was still light outside and they would surely see her.
Whack! "Unnnhhhh!" There it was again. Was he hitting her? The raw chorus seemed to go on. Rachel had to check things out, and make sure her neighbor was ok. But how to do so and not seem like a peeping tom? Rachel realized that her own bedroom window was opposite Artemisia's. All through the winter, both of their windows had remained closed and their curtains drawn. Artemisia had obviously opened hers to enjoy the unseasonably warm pre-spring air. If she went inside to her bedroom and drew back her curtains just a little, Rachel realized she would be able to see exactly what was going on and if she should call for help. She rushed inside her house to investigate.
She hurried to her bedroom and climbed across her bed that sat next to the window. She drew the curtains back a couple of inches to see across the way. When she first moved in she realized how close their two houses were, and not wanting to be seen herself, she had never drawn those curtains. What she saw that afternoon, she saw in vivid detail, and it thoroughly astonished her. Artemisia and her lover were both on her bed. He lay upright with his back against the headboard, and she lay across his lap – naked. With both hands he was squeezing and pawing her buttocks, saying something to her that Rachel could not hear with her window closed. She decided to be bold and slide her window open just a bit so she could hear what was going on. Then she saw him raise one hand suddenly and bring it back crashing down on Artemisia's rear with a resounding slap. Artemisia yelped and he smiled devilishly as he eyed the red hand print he left on her skin. To Rachel's surprise and horror, Artemisia wasn't struggling to get away. Instead, her eyes were closed and she had a look of pure pleasure on her face, and Rachel swore she heard her beg to be spanked again.
"...And that's for being so bad in the car teasing me all the way over here..." Thwap! "...wearing no panties and playing with your hot little pussy as we drove." Thwap!
And on it went for about five minutes, and Rachel looked on in rapt awe. She never would have expected this of her neighbor. Rachel continued watching as he reached for a small bottle on the night stand, and squirted something onto her rear. It looked like it went either on or between Artemisia's buttocks, but Rachel could not tell from the angle. 'Must be some kind of massage oil,' Rachel thought. Then she heard Artemisia say "Yes, put your finger in me!" and Rachel saw his fingers descend between her buttocks and her legs before she turned away, having had enough. No need to watch him finger Artemisia's twat, though it had never occurred to Rachel that a woman could have her vagina fingered from behind. Her and her boyfriend Kenny had never done it like that and they probably never would, for she had no plans to lay naked across his lap with her butt high in the air allowing him to spank her. However, as much as she wanted to tell herself that what she had seen did not interest her, when Rachel rolled over on her back to climb off her bed she noticed something that did not sit well with her: she was wet – very wet – and she was suddenly cognizant of the fact that her vagina was begging for a little attention.
Rachel was no stranger to masturbation. She tried not to do it too often, but sometimes after dates with Kenny she just couldn't help it. She reasoned that it helped her keep their relationship virtuous. However, when she thought about making love to Kenny, she never got this wet! What was wrong with her? As she laid there thinking about it, she realized that her window was still open and she could still hear the goings on across the way. She listened as the 'oohs' and 'ahs' turned to wet slurping 'umms' and 'mmnns.' Unable to resist the temptation, she turned over and looked out the window to resume spying on the horny couple.
They were doing something different indeed! Rachel almost yelped herself at what she saw. Artemisia was on her knees with her ass now facing directly in Rachel's direction out the window. Her head was down in her lover's lap, and his head was tilted back with a look of bliss on his face. She could only imagine that Artemisia was giving him oral sex, but that is not what shocked her. What left her flabbergasted was the fact that his fingers were not in Artemisia's vagina, but instead Rachel saw a very long middle finger sliding in and out of Artemisia's anus! She blinked to make sure she was seeing correctly. Waxed bare, she had never even seen anyone so lewdly exposed! And bent over as such, she could unmistakably make out that there were two orifices exposed for the world to see – the smaller and higher of which had a shiny wet finger plunging in and out of it.
