All of my writing is fiction, and the stories and characters are all products of my imagination. They were created for my fun and, hopefully, your enjoyment. Some of the events in the stories are not particularly condoned nor encouraged by the author but are there to create and enhance the story of the imaginary characters and their lives. Comments are always encouraged and carefully reviewed. All characters within the story that need to be are 18 years of age or older. I hope you enjoy! And take a second to vote and comment.
This story is hopefully the first of a series about a small neighborhood, Conestoga Court, eight homes around a semi-circular court, and the perils and adventures that take place there. There are six couples, five of them married and one pair living together, and a single man and single woman. Hope they turn out to be enjoyable.
* * * * *
"Football games on today, honey?" Adel asked as she bent to stack the lunch dishes in the dishwasher.
"Baseball today," he replied, shaking his head. She had no clue. He gave her a hard smack on the butt extended toward him. It was nearly as alluring as the two giant breasts hanging unfettered in her blouse. It was half playful and half something else.
Adel squealed. "Ouch," she said. "That was kind of hard."
"Sorry," he apologized as she went back to stacking the dishes.
It hadn't always been that way. Married eight years ago, she knew every detail of what was on TV and what game he might want to watch. That was eight years ago. Then, she would have responded to the smack by grabbing his crotch and making him suffer a little. Somewhere between then and now, it seemed the fire had cooled a little, although sex with his big-breasted wife was still satisfying, and he wasn't sure what he was looking for.
"I'm meeting Sally for lunch and then some shopping. I should be home in time for dinner." A typical Saturday for Adel. Typical, at least for the last month or two.
She and her sister often "went shopping." A couple of times, Carsten had checked with his brother-in-law and found that Sally had not gone shopping and was at home. On a hunch, he'd gone to their bedroom and checked her jewelry box. In the third drawer he opened, he'd found her wedding ring. It made him wonder.
Somehow
he'd
survived the seven-year-itch, but apparently, she hadn't. Or at least that's what Carsten was thinking. He still loved her, but that love was being nipped at by what he imagined she was up to. When you leave your wedding ring at home, it doesn't take much imagining.
"If you need anything, I have my cell phone, but it will be in my purse, and sometimes I can't hear it ring. I'll try to check every-so-often. We'll probably be a little late." She gave him a quick kiss and headed out the back door. He heard the car start and back out of the driveway. She hadn't wanted a cell phone before, but two or three months ago, she'd gotten one of those grocery store phones that you restock with minutes periodically.
The rest of the day to kill, somehow.
He went to the refrigerator and grabbed a beer, then rummaged through the cabinet till he found the sack of pretzel sticks, grabbing three of them. He choked on his first bite of pretzel and downed a big gulp of beer to stifle the choking. Since it was a warm and sunny day, he headed out the back door and, from the porch, spotted Fiona Vincent in the yard next door. The Vincents had moved in fairly recently, and Fiona's beautiful red hair fit right into his fetish. Well, he loved red hair, and some said it was a fetish if it went too far. He'd always wondered how far that would be.
"Hey, Fiona," he called, waving.
"Hi, Carsten," was her smiling reply as she turned and headed his direction.
He looked around. "Where's the old man?"
"Fishing," she answered, still heading toward him.
"Want a beer?"
"Sure," she said, "and a pretzel too, if you have more," she added, eying the two still left in his hand. "I'm greedy if you haven't guessed," she laughed.
Quickly back inside, Carsten had another beer and the sack of pretzels. If she was greedy, he was willing to feed the greed.
"So, Barrett likes to fish?" he asked, handing her the beer and offering pretzels.
She rolled her eyes, shaking her head. "Shit, yes. I hate it. I used to go with him, but, you know, after a while, it gets to stinking, and it's fucking boring the whole time, so now I just stay home and ... whatever." She took a long swig of her beer, then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Good," she said, smiling at him and tossing her red hair.
Carsten was trying to get a good look at Fiona, but it was difficult since she always wore baggy clothing and dresses. He had guessed what might be hiding under all those layers and folds but was more than anxious to confirm his guesses.
Karma was smiling on him.
"Adel around?" Fiona asked, looking toward the house.
"Shopping with her sister," he answered, chomping off a piece of pretzel and washing it down with beer.
"Listen," she said, gesturing toward her yard. "The swimming pool is repaired and is working well if you're interested."
Hell yes, he was interested if it would get Fiona in a bathing suit.
"Oh, hell yes," he said enthusiastically. "Sounds great."
"To me too. "Let's change and get out there. I'll bring the beer this time."
This might be working out better than he could have planned it. In the house, he undressed and pulled on his only pair of bathing trunks. Adel teased him about a tiny spare tire he was developing, and he worked to suck it in as he checked the results in the mirror. Not bad, he decided. He could suck it up until they were in the water, where he'd be able to relax. Maybe a T-shirt would help. He had an old Ohio U shirt, and he put it on. No good since it was skin-tight. Finally deciding a towel would have to do, he headed back outside.
He was sitting on the edge of the pool, his feet splashing in the water when he heard footsteps behind him. Suddenly hands were over his eyes.
"Guess who," she said.
Carsten laughed. "It better be Fiona."
"Good guess," she said, sitting beside him, feet in the water.
He'd never seen her from this close, and he took in the hair, the green eyes, the surprising lack of freckles ... and the full red lips smiling at him.
"Water is amazingly warm," he said, splashing a little on her legs, which gave him a chance to check them out. Fiona was not tall and slender nor short and fat. She was nicely in the middle of both of those. He could see her tight waist and a pair of breasts that filled the suit to the fullest. He decided she was better than his guessing had been.
"We had the heater repaired too, and I guess it's done a good job." She slid off the edge into the waist-deep water. "Nice and warm," she said, gesturing for Carsten to join her.
Not needing much encouragement, he jumped in, splashing water in her face.
"Carsten," she giggled, throwing water in his face.
Now the battle was on, arms flailing, water flying, lots of sputtering and laughing until Carsten launched himself at Fiona, hands on her head, pushing her under the water. She came up gasping, and before he could apologize, she was on top of him, her breasts in his face, and he was going down. His feet were off the pool floor, and he was floundering, Fiona holding his head and not relenting. He threw his arms around her, struggling to get to his feet, and finally stood, lifting her out of the water, her arms still around his head, his face buried in her cleavage.
He let go of her, and she slid slowly down the front of him.
"I'm pretty tough, aren't I," she said. "You can't bully me."
Right at the moment, with her face six inches from his, bullying was the furthest thing from his mind. He took a step backward, wondering if she'd felt the bulge that had quickly formed in his bathing suit.
The playful look on her face gave him no answer.
