When we got a new neighbor back in the summer of 1977, it wasn't exactly something out of the ordinary because tenants seemed to go in and out of the shabby little cottage pretty regularly. My Mom said it was because unlike our landlord, the guy that owned the house next door to us was a jerk who didn't keep up the property any more than he screened people he rented to, but all I knew was that I was hoping there would be a kid or two my age moving in.
The new tenant turned out to be an old lady, which by my 18 year old standards meant she was about 50, and that made her about my Mom's age. She wasn't all that pretty but that might have been because she didn't seem to dress very well and put little time or effort in styling her hair or putting on make-up. Again, a lot like my Mom who kind of gave up after the old man booked.
The woman, who I only knew as Mrs. Goode because that was the name scrawled on a piece of adhesive tape stuck on the mailbox, worked the midnight shift at a local warehouse, something I learned when I would see her walking home from there early in the morning when my school bus would go by her.
Luckily for me, school ended in June and to my delight I had graduated, and while I was going to be attending the community college in town come fall, what I was facing was a long summer stuck at home because my part time job didn't provide much money for the things I wanted to do and besides, I didn't have a car to get anywhere.
So I spent a lot of time hanging around the house, and invariably would go out and shoot hoops in the driveway. Being a mediocre player at best, I missed a lot of shots and when I did the ball would often hit the edge of the raggedy pavement and roll into the yard next door because there was no fence separating the two properties.
I didn't think it was any big deal to go get the ball and the lady never said anything, but I did notice that the window in the back of her house had no blinds and or curtains. That might have been because she appeared to be painting that room, but in any event you could see right in and being a nosy guy, I looked.
This Mrs. Goode had a thing she wore everyday she painted, a very plain beige sleeveless house-dress, and right away I noticed that she wasn't wearing a bra underneath it. Her breasts hadn't looked all that spectacular when she was dressed for work but without support those tits swung loose and free.
Since I had broken up with my first and only girlfriend a while back and there were few kids my age in the neighborhood, I was happy for any glimpses of females so my basketball ended up going over there a lot.
Finally, one time I heard the window go up as I was picking up my ball, and when I glance up I saw Mrs. Goode standing there in the window, looking at me while I tried not to look at her tits.
"Sorry," I mumbled. "The ball gets away from me sometimes."
"So I notice," Mrs. Goode said in a raspy voice that suggested she was a smoker at some point. "I also notice you looking up into my house a lot too."
"Sorry."
"You the kid that had the graduation party next door last month?" she asked, apparently having seen the modest decorations of the sad little affair, and after I nodded she asked if I was 18.
"What's your name?" Mrs. Goode asked after I nodded, and when I told her she snickered. "That short for Poindexter?"
"No ma'am."
"Well then Dexter, since you're 18 you're a man, and as such if you want something you should ask for it," Mrs Goode informed me. "Is there something in here you wanted to get a look at?"
"I - well..." was about all I could think of to say, but by then Mrs. Goode had taken the bottom of her house-dress in her hands and begun to lift it right up to the bottom of her little tummy, showing me that she wasn't wearing anything at all underneath that thing.
"You know what this is?" she asked me as I stood there open-mouthed staring at a big uneven triangle of dark brown hair about five feet in front of me.
"Course I do," I replied, trying to act like I saw pussies all the time instead of just two before this.
"What do you think? You like it? You ever see a pussy before?"
"Sure, of course I have. I have - had a girlfriend."
"That right? The way you're looking at it made me wonder."
"Yours is a lot hairier than hers," I blurted out, which in retrospect might not have been all that clever to say but she didn't even blink.
"That right?"
"Yeah," I replied and then proved I was no ladies man by elaborating. "Cindy only has a little hair around the opening, but yours is a lot like my Mom's."
"Really? You look at your Mom naked a lot?" she chuckled.
"When I can," I admitted. "It's just the two of us and sometimes you get to see things."
"I suppose. Think she's ever seen your goodies?" Mrs. Goode wondered aloud.
"I know she did," I answered, figuring that if I kept her talking she would keep her dress up, and when she asked what I meant I admitted, "She caught me jerking off, once that I know of."
"Oh, you jerk off a lot?"
"Yeah, I guess," I confessed.
"You got a big cock?" she asked.
"No," I grumbled.
"You're honest at least. You got a hard on from looking at my pussy?"
"Yeah."
"You want to come in for a while? Maybe jerk off while I watch?" Mrs. Goode asked, and that made me laugh until she told me she wasn't kidding.