Good Neighbor Karen Ch 03

Good Neighbor Karen

Chapter Three: Escalation and a Bikini?

Alone again in the cool, air-conditioned comfort of my house, I reclined on the sofa and reflected on the flirtations--innocent as they were--that Jeremy and I had shared over the past two days.

As much as I would have indignantly denied that there was anything more than harmless flirtation between us, I couldn't ignore the underlying truth: I derived a tremendous amount of warmth and pleasure from Jeremy's charmingly innocent compliments.

And while I may have self-consciously laughed at or even dismissed many of his flattering and complimentary remarks, deep down, his words filled me with a warmth and pleasure that touched my heart.

I leaned back on the sofa cushion and closed my eyes, smiling in silent reverie. I felt wonderfully calm and relaxed, the only sound being the deeply soothing tick of my grandfather clock. Slowly, I moved my hands over my thighs, savoring the erotic sensation my fingertips stirred as they glided over the sensually sheer fabric of my dress.

After a moment, I raised my hands to my breasts and cradled them lightly in the palms of my hands. I felt my nipples begin to constrict and I caressed them to full erection between the soft pads of my thumbs and forefingers.

I shivered and sighed pleasurably as the familiar warm flush of arousal coursed through me. I squeezed my breasts gently and pressed my thighs together, arching my back and sighing once more as the intensity of my arousal accelerated.

I moved my hands slowly down my thighs to my knees. I grasped my dress with both hands and raised the hem almost to my waist. I slid my hands between my knees, slowly drawing them up the insides of my thighs. Parting my legs slightly, I brought my hands together and slowly pulled my fingers up and over the soft swell of my labia. I shivered again and moaned softly, holding the fingertips of both hands firmly against the rise of my pubic mound. I closed my legs and arched my back once more, raising my hips and tilting my pelvis to grind my vulva against the exquisite pressure from my fingertips.

I shivered uncontrollably as several electric jolts of intense pleasure coursed through my entire body, each one leaving me breathless and tingling. With a gasp, I let my hips settle back down onto the sofa cushion and removed my hands from between my legs. I grasped the hem of my dress once more and raised it even higher to bare my breasts.

I cupped my breasts once more, moaning softly as I kneaded the smooth, heavy flesh. I lifted my right breast and, raising my head slightly, brought my nipple into contact with my lips. I slowly moved my head from side to side to allow my nipple to play sensuously against my lips. Parting my lips with a sigh, I flicked the tip of my tongue over my nipple and then gently circled the tightly wrinkled flesh of my areola. I gently closed my lips over my nipple and suckled gently, evoking several more electric jolts of pleasure to shiver my body uncontrollably.

I released my right breast and raised the left to my lips. As I repeated the entire tonguing procedure on my left nipple, I slipped my right hand down, over my stomach to my panties. I slipped my fingertips under the waistband and pressed my hand down, between my legs. Continuing to suckle gently at my left nipple, I parted my labia gently with the flat of my middle finger and discovered I was copiously and luxuriantly slick. I moaned pleasurably once more as I moved my finger up and down the cleft of my labia, smearing the erotically viscous lubrication up and over the hard little rise of my clitoral sheath.

Without warning, the blissful, erotic silence was shattered by the sudden roar of Jeremy's lawn mower. I gasped and jolted upright, shocked out of my sensual daydream, my heart pounding in my chest.

Remembering that Jeremy had mentioned his intention to mow his own lawn as well as mine, I sighed in mock exasperation as the deliciously sensual need I had felt building moments before seemed to slowly seep away into the sofa cushions.

"Damn it, Jeremy," I said aloud. "That was sure shitty timing."

With a sigh of resignation, I rolled over and knelt on the sofa. Leaning over the back to bring my face close to the window, I parted the Venetian blinds slightly and watched Jeremy as he slowly made his way back and forth across his front yard. He had removed his shirt, and wore only his cutoff jeans. A sheen of perspiration glistened across his back and chest, accentuating the flexing of his muscles as he moved.

I watched him as if compelled, unable to turn away even if I wanted to. His body moved with a lithe grace that belied his youth, and I was drawn to him in a way I never thought possible.

As I eyed Jeremy in fascination, I felt the unmistakable warmth of renewed arousal. "Oh, God," I sighed, pressing my thighs together to intensify the rising need and moving my hips rhythmically.

Continuing to watch him, I couldn't help but wonder how it might feel to hold him in my arms. So small and slight of build, I imagined he would feel more like a child than a man--an image I found surprisingly compelling. Keeping the blind parted with my left hand, I reached between my legs with the other and raised my dress once more.

I lifted my hand to my vulva, pressed my fingertips firmly against the soft folds, and moved my hand in a slow circular motion. "Oh, Jeremy," I said aloud, "God, if you only knew what I was doing right now."

My imagination swept me away. I imagined him completely nude and lying between my legs, his skin glistening with perspiration as he drove his cock deep inside me, harder and harder, as fast as he could.

The overwhelming need of my renewed arousal suddenly erupted over me like an ocean wave and I found myself almost instantly on the brink of orgasm.

With a gasp, I stood and hurriedly removed my panties. Breathing heavily with the intensity of my need, I quickly straddled the smooth, plushly upholstered arm of my sofa. I moaned aloud and moved my hips, feeling the cool leather become slick with my lubrication.

I parted the blinds once more and stared at Jeremy as I began to move my hips rapidly.

"Oh, god!" I cried out. "Oh...oh, GOD!"

As the rising swell of my orgasm overcame me, I raised my face to the ceiling, my mouth opened wide in a silent scream. My eyelids began to flutter rapidly and the muscles in my abdomen and my pelvis began to flex spasmodically.

I exploded in orgasm. So intense was the feeling that I almost seemed to lose consciousness, shrieking uncontrollably, my cries echoing loudly in the confines of my living room. When I finally came to my senses, I was gasping for breath. I moved my pelvis and was jolted by another intensely acute aftershock of pleasure and I cried out once more and held myself perfectly still as the intensity of feeling was almost too much for my consciousness to bear.

"Oh, god...oh, god...oh, god!" I rasped breathlessly, trying to catch my breath, my heart pulsing so rapidly it seemed to pound against my sternum.

In a few moments, I was able to regain control enough to roll over off of the arm of the sofa and onto the cushions where I lay for several more minutes until my breathing began to return to normal.

"Holy fucking shit!" I whispered aloud when I had finally regained some semblance of my normal self. "I can't believe that really happened."

It seemed almost unbelievable that I had masturbated while watching Jeremy and fantasizing about fucking him. I laughed aloud, covering my face self-consciously with my hands. "My god, that was absolutely SHAMELESS!" I murmured into my fingers.

Shameless, yes, but I couldn't deny the excruciating intensity of the orgasm I had just experienced. I also couldn't help but wonder if somehow the inherently illicit nature of my thoughts and fantasies about Jeremy could have contributed to and enhanced my almost overwhelming sexual response.

I lay back on the sofa and closed my eyes, savoring the afterglow of my orgasm.

I awoke suddenly, realizing I had fallen asleep. A quick glance at the clock revealed that I had dozed for nearly half an hour. Shaking off my sleepiness, I rose quickly to make myself a little more productive by attending to the article I had only partially written for Women's Day Magazine.

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The following day, I had an early morning business meeting scheduled with one of my publishers. After starting the coffee to brew, I showered and dressed carefully for the occasion. I chose an ivory-colored dress--a sleeveless shift made from a blend of cotton and sheer rayon. It clung to my figure attractively, and with the hem tastefully above the knee, it showcased the shapeliness of my legs without being overly immodest. I've never found it beneath my dignity to dress in a way that encourages or invites attention from the opposite sex, especially when dealing with men in the business world. Sometimes, a touch of sensuality can go a long way in fostering better business relationships.

That morning, I took my coffee on the front porch as usual. As Marjorie drove away for yet another one of her demonstrations, I waved to Jeremy and motioned for him to join me.

As he approached, I could clearly see, even from as far away as the sidewalk, that he had noticed my short dress and was subtly trying to look at my legs without appearing to stare. I watched him draw nearer and smiled to myself. After the exquisitely pleasurable events of the previous afternoon, I realized I would no longer be able to see him merely as the cute little neighbor boy who helps me with my landscaping.

I glanced down to quickly ascertain that my skirt was not immodestly out of place and, as he joined me on the porch and sat down, I crossed my legs to pose them a little more sensually.

"Wow," he said with a smile, looking into my eyes while darting covert glances down to my legs. "I don't think I've ever seen you wearing a short dress before. It looks really nice too."

"Thank you," I beamed. "I've got a special meeting this morning and wanted to try to look especially nice for it."

"And, boy, do you ever," he returned, as I took a sip of coffee.

We chatted amiably for quite some time until, with a quick glance at my watch, I jumped up, surprised that the time had slipped away unnoticed.

"Goodness," I gasped, "If I don't hurry, I'm going to be late." I scooped up the coffee pot and the mugs and sped inside, dumping them off on the counter before picking up the heavy boxes full of manuscripts.

As I tried to manage the cumbersome boxes in one arm while fumbling with my keys in the other, Jeremy quickly came to my aid and took the heavy boxes from my arm.

"Oh, thank you, honey. You're a dear," I sighed appreciatively as I turned the key in the deadbolt and then used the remote opener to raise the garage door. It creaked open slowly as Jeremy and I made our way around to the front of the garage. I asked him to wait while I backed out so we could better access the back door. After backing out, I opened my door and stepped out hurriedly, not noticing how my dress rode up revealingly as I slid off the seat. I smiled at Jeremy, and he returned my smile tentatively before looking away self-consciously.

I laughed softly. Opening the back door I looked at him over my shoulder. "I think I just did it again, didn't I?"

"Did what?" he returned, trying to look innocent.

"You know very well what I mean," I sighed in feigned exasperation.

He smiled and looked away again, his cheeks coloring. "Well...yeah, I guess I know what you mean."

I laughed again. "Damn it, Jeremy...it seems every time I turn around these days, I'm somehow managing to expose myself to you. Aren't I?"

He laughed too, handing me the heavy manuscript that I placed carefully onto the back seat. "That's okay...I really don't mind at all when you do things like that," he said with a little smile.

"Thank you so much for helping me with this," I said with a smile, closing the back door and climbing back into the front seat. He stepped closer, placing his hands on my door as if to close it for me. But I wasn't completely fooled by his casual display of gallantry; I knew his main intention was to catch another glimpse of my legs.

As I cautiously stepped into the vehicle and slid behind the steering wheel, I felt the hem of my dress rising in a distinctly immodest way. Ordinarily, just before sitting down, I would have taken a moment to adjust my skirt. However, as I settled into my seat, I could almost feel Jeremy's eyes on me, and I deliberately made no effort to adjust the hem of my dress to a more modest level.

"You're very welcome," he smiled, trying hard not to stare at my legs as he gently closed the door and leaned forward slightly in order to get an even closer look.

I waved at him as I made my turn and sped away. Looking in my rear-view mirror, I caught my reflection and smiled, shaking my head. "Jesus, girl," I said aloud to myself. "You are turning into such a slut." I laughed aloud and, with another shake of my head, pulled my dress down to a respectable level.

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I didn't see Jeremy for the next several days as my publishing deadline required a grueling schedule. Instead of my usual leisurely coffee mornings, I found myself immersed in a whirlwind of early morning business meetings, rewrite sessions with editors, and promotional planning and scheduling.

While I did not see him for quite some time, he was never really far from my thoughts. Whenever I masturbated, it was increasingly more difficult to keep visions of Jeremy out of my mind and, for whatever reason, I very much enjoyed fantasizing about him.

One afternoon, as I returned home from a lengthy session with my publisher, I stopped to check my mailbox and found a rather large package stuffed unceremoniously inside. Glancing at the return address on the mailing label, I noticed it was addressed to me from a company called Ujena. I shrugged, having no recollection of the name or ordering anything from them. Assuming it was just another piece of promotional junk mail, I dropped it on the kitchen table along with the rest of the mail before heading off to change my clothes, dressing casually in a pair of shorts and an oversize T-shirt.

Returning to the kitchen, I sat down at the table and glanced through the handful of bills and credit card announcements before letting my curiosity get the better of me about the package. I slipped a knife through the tape covering one end and opened the package.

I was startled to find a clear plastic package inside, containing a Ujena brand bikini bathing suit. Immediately, I sifted through the packing material and found a receipt for forty dollars, but there was no name or address indicating who had sent it to me.

I sat at the table with a mixed sigh of humor and exasperation. It didn't take a Sherlock Holmes to figure out who might have sent me a bikini. I immediately recalled the flirtatious conversation Jeremy and I had a few weeks earlier about bathing suits--specifically, bikinis.

In spite of myself, I shook my head and smiled. Jeremy had obviously taken my offhand promise to model a bikini for him, should I ever come into possession of one, very seriously. And clearly, with the evidence before me on the kitchen table, he must have also realized that since I had no intention of ever buying a bikini, he would have to take it upon himself to purchase one for me.

For as much as I admired his openly brazen resourcefulness, there was no way on earth I was about to let him spend forty dollars on something so completely foolish.

I sat for several minutes and just stared in confused silence at the unopened plastic package in front of me. I felt terrible, knowing Jeremy had gone through so much time effort, and expense for such a fruitless endeavor.

While I certainly had no intention, whatsoever, of accepting such a personal and expensive gift from Jeremy, my primary concern was how I might convey my feelings to him without causing him embarrassment or hurting his feelings.

I did, indeed, recall the promise I had so casually made to Jeremy, never anticipating that he might take me seriously or that I might one day find myself in such an awkward predicament.

With a sigh of resignation, I tossed the package onto the table. I was determined to confront Jeremy at the earliest opportunity and arrange for the return of his purchase so he could get a full refund. I just hoped I could find the right words to express my feelings while still sparing his.

Having made up my mind, I glanced curiously at the plastic package containing the bikini. Knowing Jeremy and his expressed desire to see me in a bikini, I couldn't help but wonder what kind of swimsuit he had specifically chosen for me.

I carefully removed the packing tape from one end of the plastic package and slid the contents out onto the table. It was a bright yellow, string-style bikini made from a sheer, synthetic nylon material. The set consisted of nothing more than three small triangles of fabric connected by long elastic strings for attaching the bikini to one's body. It looked impossibly small, even though the packing slip clearly marked it as a "large." The top was a halter style with ties at the back and neck, and the g-string panty tied at each hip.

I laughed aloud, trying very hard to picture myself actually wearing such a provocative garment. Not only did I imagine I would look absolutely ridiculous, but upon closer examination, I realized it might be almost physically impossible for me to even get this particular bikini to fit properly. Despite the halter-tie style being somewhat adjustable, the bra cups were clearly designed for a woman with a B or C-cup. I sighed wistfully, imagining how wonderful it would be to have the slender physique needed to pull off such a sexy outfit.

With yet another sigh of resignation, I tossed it carelessly onto the kitchen table and then set about preparing something for dinner. As soon as I had the ingredients simmering on the stove, I poured myself a large glass of Cabernet and relaxed into a chair to read the evening paper.

I felt the warmth of the wine begin to permeate my body almost from the very first sip and realized I had eaten hardly anything all day. By the time I was ready to sit down to my meal, I was feeling remarkably warm and mellow and even went so far as to pour myself a second glass of wine, something I rarely do as more than one glass of wine will, most often, leave me in a somewhat more inebriated state than I am comfortable with.

As I began to eat, I kept looking at the bathing suit there before me on the table. I still could not get over the fact that Jeremy had done such an impetuous thing and I smiled and shook my head. Even though such a personal and expensive gift was totally unacceptable, I couldn't help but feel a certain amount of pleasure in the fact that he had taken such a bold and flirtatious initiative.

While even the merest notion that I might ever publicly wear such an outrageous costume was completely ludicrous, I was, however, surprisingly intrigued by the notion that I COULD actually do so in the privacy of my own home.

I began to toy with the idea of actually trying on the bikini--purely out of curiosity, of course, to see how it might feel and just how ridiculous I might look while wearing it. Upon reflection, I'm sure my level of curiosity was directly influenced by the wine-induced glow I was experiencing.

After several minutes of deliberation, I threw caution to the wind and stood up from the table. I scooped up the bikini and the remains of my second glass of wine, then made my somewhat unsteady way down the hallway to my bedroom, where I removed my T-shirt, shorts, and panties.