Good Neighbors Ch 01

Chapter 01

Abbie Begins Her Story

My name is Abbie - Abbie Haffenshaft. I am writing all of this down in hopes of making sense of it. What has happened is more than a little strange and though I adore the changes, I'm not at all sure I fully appreciate them yet. I will be writing down as factually and accurately as I can all the things that have happened. I only hope all these young men I have come to know feel their lives are improved because of me.

It all began with a simple complaint. "Our sons have no manners and they're

rude

!" I said to Elizabeth, "They don't use 'Ma'am' or 'Sir' and they don't even know how to dance properly. It never even occurs to them to hold the door for a lady."

My best and closest friend in the world, Liz and I were complaining to one another during our power walk one morning about our sons and, if the truth were told,

all

their young friends. It was spring and our sons were about to graduate from high school. We were upset this morning because our sons had chosen to skip the prom and instead were busy working as much as they possibly could at their part-time jobs. They were going off to State College this Fall and well, quite frankly, they were ill-mannered and lacking in all the social graces Liz and I felt a young college-bound man ought to have.

I forget which one of us said it first, but I distinctly remember we decided unanimously that our sons were going to learn some manners

and

they were going to learn to dance if it killed us. If they can't go to the prom then we can take the prom to them, we agreed.

"Will they listen to us?" Liz asked. "Will they do

anything

their mothers tell them to do?"

That's when reality hit us both in the face. What eighteen-year-old red-blooded American boy listens to his mother? That stopped us cold until Liz came up with the brilliant idea for us to teach each other's sons. "After all," she reasoned, "I'm

Mrs. Nobbing

to your son, Jeff and you're

Mrs. Haffenshaft

, not Abbie to my son. Even though they've known us all their lives, we ought to be able play enough of a tough authority figure to make them listen. After all, we

are

moms."

I liked the idea. It just might work, I thought in the excitement of the moment. I agreed immediately with Liz and we set about making our plans. We wanted to move quickly and were both truly committed to this idea of 'civilizing' our sons and we were thoroughly sincere in all that we planned. Looking back now I realize I should have had misgivings. I should have gone about all of it more cautiously. Instead, as I sit here writing this all down in vivid detail, my legs are shaved, my pussy is neatly trimmed into what they call a 'landing strip' and I haven't worn panties in three days.

In fact, the last pair of panties I wore, I gave away to the sweetest young shoe salesman named Adam at the mall. I had gone shopping for new clothes that morning and stopped in for a new pair of red pumps to go with the black miniskirt and red blouse I'd just bought. I had my new outfit on when I went to the shoe store. It was down in a quiet little corner of the mall but they had exactly the sort of sexy shoes I had in mind. Liz recommended it and even said I would have a wonderful time if I went before noon when Adam was there. Boy, was she right. Adam was so helpful and so apologetic when he told me I had to wear stockings when I tried on shoes -- it was some kind of state health code requirement, he told me. He picked out the stockings for me to wear and even helped me put them on and smooth them out. When I began trying on shoes, he made so many suggestions about the kind of heels that would make my legs look even longer and make me more graceful as I walked that I just kept trying on new shoes long after I found the pair I liked. He was right about the stockings he selected for me too. The wide, lacy tops felt so smooth and snug on my thighs and they really did make my legs look even lovelier, just like he told me they would.

He seemed to know

exactly

what sort of shoes would look good on me. I tried on so many pairs of heels and I felt so comfortable with him that I finally just relaxed and let him lift each foot by the ankle, slip the shoe on each foot and 'test the fit,' as he called it by caressing the backs of each calf and shifting my foot slowly from side to side on the platform. He was pretty sneaky about it but I noticed how he pulled another stool into place and positioned a foot on each one of them. Gradually, he began to inch my feet farther and farther apart with each new pair of shoes he slipped on my feet. He was pushing the hem of my skirt higher and higher too. Pretty soon, with each new pair of shoes, Adam had managed to sidle the hem of my skirt up past the tops of my stockings. I didn't mind. His touch was so reassuring and he had such marvelous taste in shoes that I just couldn't say no.

Adam was so charming and so flattering with his praise as he stared at my thighs and my panties with those googly eyes of his that I just knew he would appreciate having my panties to keep.

"Here," I said when I was preparing to leave.

We were standing at the cash register by now. I stood right there at the front of the store, hoisted my skirt up, squirmed my panties down over my hips and dropped them on the counter in front of him. They made a little plopping sound. I guess I was wetter than I thought.

"I'm afraid these probably smell to high heaven, but you've been so helpful I think you deserve a reward. I'm afraid this isn't much," I said this with a playful little grin before I dropped my damp little panties right there in front of him. I was trying to honest with him. I was sure they reeked to high heaven with my musky scent. You see, it aroused me beyond distraction to have a handsome young man sitting between my open legs and staring up my skirt. I just couldn't stay calm. I'm ashamed to admit it, but every time he went off to the backroom for another pair of shoes I diddled myself -- but only a little!

Adam only smiled when I apologized and then he got this dreamy, far-away look on his face as he stood right there behind the cash register, scooped them up gracefully in both hands, held them to his nose and inhaled deeply. I must have been diddling myself more than I realized, because my panties left an embarrassing wet spot on the counter.

Perhaps that is the problem right there in a nutshell. A few weeks ago, I would never have considered buying a pair of red pumps with 4-inch heels. I would never have my pubic hair trimmed in the shape of a crescent and I certainly never would I have let one of my son's friends do the trimming. I would never have considered wearing thong panties and I definitely never would have given them to a young man just because he was cute and delightfully helpful with my shoe shopping. My life and Liz's life have taken such a strange exotic turn in the past couple of weeks. Don't get me wrong -- I'm not complaining, and I don't think Liz is complaining either. It's just that things have changed

so much

lately that I don't know quite what to think and I'm not sure where all these changes will lead.

Let me explain -- and after I've told you how this all began for me, I'll let Elizabeth tell you how it began for her too.

Back to the prom night and our dance lessons with the boys. We started with a corsage. It is a required part of any prom date and so, on the appointed Friday night Liz sent Benjamin across the driveway to my front door, wearing a nice jacket and tie and carrying a corsage. Since Liz and I live next door to one another this whole arrangement was so much easier. Jeff and he even crossed paths, nodding to each other as they passed. I'm sure they grumbled out some complaint about what we were making them do as they passed.

"Do I have to, Mrs. Haffenshaft?" Benjamin whined once inside and I instructed him to pin on my corsage.

I couldn't tell if he was just being an obstinate teenager or if the prospect made him uncomfortable. For the first time since we hatched this idea, I became aware of just how difficult I might have made this task for him. You see, I am rather well endowed -- in fact, based on all that has happened, I'd say I have what young men my son's age call a 'great rack.' They are large, firm and for a 42 year-old mother they sag only a little. The bit of sag in them seems to make them even more attractive for some reason that still perplexes me. It suddenly dawned on me that I was asking Benjamin to pin flowers to my chest. I hadn't put a lot of thought or effort into my dress. Liz and I both assumed we should dress nicely but we were a little too old to be fussing over prom dresses. I had chosen a nice cocktail dress I hadn't worn in eight or nine years since before my husband was still living.

I opened the corsage box, extracted the pin and roses and handed them both to Benjamin. "Just pin it here," I said, pointing to the lower part of my dress strap on the left where it began to spread across my chest, "It should be easy to pin it if you just slip your finger under

there

."

Benjamin had been doing alright until it came to the part where he needed to slip his fingers under the strap of my dress just where it began to rise off my chest. He hesitated, his fingers hovering uncertainly over the swell of my boob.

"Go on. You can do it. It just takes a steady hand," I offered.

Benjamin inched his fingers into position, pressed the cluster of baby roses against the material and began several moments of awkward fumbling with the pin.

"Careful now," I cautioned, "Or you'll prick me!"

What happened next was simply a reflex action on my part. I saw the pin in his hand plunging straight for my chest like a dagger and I pulled back an inch -- well, maybe two. Benjamin held on tight to my dress, intent now on completing his mission. We both froze and the result was an unobstructed view of my left boob. My nipple and the full swell of my breast were just out there, dancing and jiggling and on display for both of us to see.

"Oh, wow!" Benjamin gasped out almost in a whisper, his hands frozen.

"Perhaps

I

should handle the pin and

you

can hold the corsage!" I said, coming to the rescue and taking the pin out of his hand. I swear I saw a smile begin to form on his lips as he stared down the exposed slope of my breast.

I pinned the corsage to the strap as quickly as I could but I had to pry Benjamin's hand off my dress before we could continue.

After that little incident Benjamin became a far better, more focused student. We danced a little, made small talk like couples do on dates and at proms and I even offered him a soda after we had spent some time dancing. As the evening progressed I discovered Benjamin really was inexperienced when it came to the fairer sex. He was very complimentary of my looks and the way I was dressed for the evening but I took it more as lingering admiration for my left boob than any sincere compliment for my appearance. I more or less dismissed his compliments because any eighteen year-old would probably be grateful at seeing a big old boob.

The evening progressed nicely and I really felt Benjamin was making a sincere effort with his dancing. I was careful to insist that he call me Mrs. Haffenshaft. I thought the title showed more respect and might be useful if he balked anywhere along the line with his lessons. It seemed to be working. I hoped my son, Jeff was behaving as well for Liz. I made a mental note to call Liz in a few minutes to find out.

"Benjamin, you are being a wonderful student!" I clucked in praise of his progress. "You should be very proud of yourself. I'm sure any number of girls will enjoy dancing with you and getting a goodnight kiss from you. You're a very charming young man."

I know that sounds like I was laying it on a little thick but most of it was true. Benjamin was an adorably cute young man with dimples when he smiled and the sort of physique I had always been partial to. Why, I would have gone out with him in a heartbeat twenty years ago. I felt comfortable in his arms now when we danced and he had quickly discovered how to lead. He had quickly taken charge on the dance floor. I gradually found myself dancing closer and closer with him until I could feel the warmth and strength and power of him as we danced.

I should have paid more attention to the change in our dancing and the way we were connecting physically with one another but I was having far too good a time. I hadn't danced like this and enjoyed it so much since before my husband had been gone. Looking back, I should have paid more attention to the changes in my own behavior. I should have remembered what I was like at eighteen.

"Are you sure about how well I'm doing, Mrs. Haffenshaft? You're not just saying that stuff to make me feel good, are you?" he asked.

"I'm very sincere, Benjamin," I answered. "Why, any one of your classmates would be eager to give you a goodnight kiss if you dance and conduct yourself like this on a date."

"Hah! I can't even picture me kissing a girl!" he chuckled.

It surprised me to hear Benjamin confess he had never kissed a girl. I took it as positive sign about the evening's events that he was comfortable enough to let his guard down like this. His confession gave me two additional thoughts as well. First, I wondered if my own son had ever kissed a girl. He didn't date that I was aware of. True, he was eighteen and out and busy every weekend. But what teenage son discusses his dates with his mother? I guess I truly was clueless here.

"Excuse me, Benjamin, but I need to make a phone call. It will only take a second," I said and ducked into the kitchen to call Liz.

I speed-dialed the number and waited. Liz's phone rang several times and I was just getting ready to hear her voicemail message when she picked up my call.

"Yes," she said. She sounded out of breath and a little annoyed.

"Liz," I began, "Is everything going okay with Jeff?"

"Oh . . . yeah, sure!" she replied, still breathless and then added, "He's a

fast

learner."

"Liz, I don't think your son has ever kissed a girl. Do you think I should -- well, you know, maybe give him a goodnight kiss?" I added quickly, "You know -- just as a part of the lesson!"

I didn't want my suggestion to sound like anything more than it was. I intended this kiss to be nothing more than another part of the instructional process for her son.

"Sure! In fact, I may do the same with Benjamin if you're okay with it," she seemed to be catching her breath by now but there was something curious in the way she answered. "Anything else?" she asked hastily.

She almost didn't wait for me to answer before hanging up. I returned to the living room reassured by my friend's agreement. Benjamin and I began to dance once more. He was getting very comfortable holding me in his arms now as we danced.

"Have you ever kissed a girl before?" I asked my student a minute later.

Benjamin noticeably tensed up against me at this question, but he did not answer.

"You know, part of being polite when dating is kissing at the end of the evening. If your date has enjoyed herself she will want to kiss you," I told him and paused before adding, "Would you feel comfortable kissing an old woman -- just for practice, Benjamin?"

"Wel-l-l yes -- I guess so - if it's you I'm going to kiss" he answered. He sort of blushed then, realizing too late that he may have revealed more with his answer than he intended.

"Good," I beamed and stopped our dancing in mid-song. I told myself at the time I didn't want to give my student a chance to back out. Looking back though, I was actually eager to have our lips pressed together even if it was to be a rather sterile 'instructional' kiss.

I leaned forward slightly so that our lips were inches apart, looked him squarely in the eyes and said, "Now close your eyes, purse your lips slightly and just let me touch your lips with mine,"

Our kiss was nothing more than a quick peck but it caused a strange reaction in me. I suspected it had been a good deal more than a little 'thank you, auntie' kiss for Benjamin too because he let out the smallest of groans and pressed forward with his lips as I withdrew, almost like he didn't want our kiss to end.

I took a sharp breath, forced my eyes to open, and said in the calmest tone of voice I could muster, "Very good. Now see, that wasn't so hard, was it?"

I had to shake Benjamin before he would open his eyes. We resumed our dance lesson. Benjamin was clearly distracted now and I could tell our kiss had sidetracked that sharp mind of his. He was openly staring now at the bit of cleavage my dress revealed. I did not care. In fact, I found his fascination with my chest rather exciting. It had been ages since I had even been aware of any man's admiration for me and just as long since any man had made me feel this energized, this aroused.

An explanation is in order here, I suppose. Earlier I said that Liz and I are close friends. We grew up together, went to school together and went off to college together. Liz and I never finished college because we met two really great guys and got married together in a double ceremony.

Ernie, my husband and Ned, Liz's husband just happened to share the same long-term friendship with one another that Liz and I shared. They were both studying engineering and both got jobs in the oil industry working together out at sea on one of those oil platforms. We were all living the good life. We bought our homes side-by-side, each of us had sons only a month apart and we expected that everything would go on and on like this.

We were wrong. Eight years ago there was a big hurricane that struck the Gulf where Ernie and Ned were working. Liz and I never got all the gruesome details but we know our husbands volunteered to stay and ride the storm out and protect the platform and some of the equipment.

We became widows because of that hurricane. Our lives changed in many ways we could never have imagined. I apologize to readers who find talk of death and widowhood out of place in my story but it does matter. Liz and I were close before this tragedy and we became even closer -- if that's possible to imagine --

after

our lives changed. We had sons to raise and we threw our whole beings into it. I think that's what kept us sane. It certainly has paid dividends because we both raised bright, responsible (mostly) sons who were going off to college in a few months and had bright futures ahead of them.

That is enough said about my past life for now. On to the present. Benjamin and I chatted for a few minutes, sipped our Pepsis and in general had a pretty good time. I still felt comfortably in charge of our evening, though I caught Benjamin's gaze drifting toward my chest frequently as we talked. I just assumed he was still remembering that accidental glimpse he'd gotten of my boob earlier and couldn't shake it out of his mind. I kind of liked it that I could still draw that sort interest from a healthy young male.

We resumed dancing and pretty soon I suggested that we try another practice goodnight kiss. After all, I told him, "You want to feel comfortable with the goodnight kiss. It shouldn't feel awkward or forced . . . and it is really nothing more than a small way to show your appreciation for a lovely evening."

Benjamin jumped into action at my suggestion, halting our dance in mid-step and leaning in for our lips to meet. Looking back on that moment I should have been more wary but I was every bit as ready for another kiss as Benjamin.

* * * * *

"Stop that immediately!! What on earth do you think you're doing?" I almost screamed. I apparently had lost all track of time. I didn't know how many minutes or seconds had passed by now but I did know that the straps of my party dress were pushed down off my shoulders and both of my breasts were bared. Even worse, Benjamin was cupping them in his big young hands, busily fondling them both and alternately twisting and pulling at the nipples. He had been working them over pretty thoroughly because both my nipples were red and sticking out like nails.