The gate between our two yards was still open, just as it'd always been. Mrs Donovan had moved in as a childless widow the old house next door when I was 10 and she was 28 and she and my mother had become fast friends. But Mrs Donovan was an oddity to me -- she lived alone with a small Yorkshire terrier and there was no man in her life. I'd ever known of women through their associations with their husbands, just like I'd known of my mother through my father.
My eyes were opened over the years as my mother had promised Mrs Donovan my assistance in yard work and other menial tasks -- over the next 7 years, I had helped her paint her house three times, joined her as she walked her terrier and I held her tight after the small dog had escaped one evening and I found it the next day beneath the deck behind the house. It had been hit by a car and had gone there to die. I was with her when she chose a new pup and named it Ryker. I helped her tend her garden and saw it flourish and I cut her grass and trimmed her bushes. I also watched as men came and went -- some making her smile, while others made her cry.
It was during that time I grew up -- but she didn't seem to change: a slim body with a back that drew a V towards a small waist, curvy hips and a roundish ass and sexy legs. Elven features crowned by an ever changing, pixie-like haircut harbouring a new colour every second month and smallish breasts, barely bigger than pears topped with nipples that seemed in a state of perpetual arousal. But her most enticing features were her big hazel eyes and a slightly crooked smile bordered by thick, sensual lips.
For my part -- I'd grown up tall and lean. The time spent tending Mrs Donovan's yard had lead me to working summers for a local landscaping company so my arms were permanently tanned. My muscles were sinewy and strong.
But when I was 17 I left town for a better education. My mother emailed me regularly and there was always a note from Mrs Donovan. She wrote me of Ryker and of the garden and how it seemed to have wilted a bit since I'd stopped tending it. The emails stopped shortly after my eighteenth birthday. When pressed, my mother told me Mrs Donovan had met someone and that it seemed serious -- I understood then than she no longer had time for a young dreamer. While Mrs Donovan lived her life I threw myself in study and sport. After a year my muscles became thicker and I had even lost my virginity to a young exchange student from Germany.
After turning 19, I decided to return home for my summer break -- I'd already been in contact with my old employer and they'd agreed to rehire me if I still knew how to use a shovel. I hadn't told anyone that I was coming home -- when I'd stepped into the house it was empty. My folks were gone for the weekend according to the calendar on their laptop.
I'd strayed into the kitchen to make a sandwich when I spied the open gate to Mrs Donovan's backyard.
What the hell, I thought and I took off my shirt and went outside. Maybe the grass needed to be cut.
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When I crossed the gate, I scanned the yard and was a bit disappointed to witness that the garden was neatly weeded and the grass was closely trimmed. The deck had been widened and a pool now occupied the far East corner of the yard.
It was there that I saw Mrs Donovan -- she was lying on her stomach on a resin lawn chair, sunning herself beneath the midday sun. A book by Stephen King was left open on the ground, its cover likely fading in the sun and next to it was a half full glass of iced tea and a bottle of sunscreen. As I drew closer, I saw that she wore a small, high cut green bikini and that the string that bound it behind her back was undone. The yard was private enough that she could dare sunbathing nude if she so desired -- the thought made my cock stir. Admittedly, Mrs Donovan had been making my cock stir since I'd lost my virginity and I had fancifully reviewed all the woman I had crossed paths with as a youth and the emotions they rose. The passions she stirred were the most intense. That I had pics of her clad in a bikini on my old cellphone only emphasized the fantasy.
Drawing closer, I remembered that she would sometimes fall asleep in the sun. Once, as she slept, I'd put lotion on her exposed back to prevent her from burning. An innocent act at the time -- now being older and hornier, any innocence was a facade. I slowly crept up the creaking steps of the old wooden deck -- it wasn't in as good a condition as when I left. The breeze came westward and carried the scent of the freshly cut grass and the slightly musky aroma of Mrs Donovan's unscented skin. I paused and closed my eyes and took a deep breath -- the natural scents in the air made me feel bold. But when I took my first step onto the deck. I heard a low growl. Ryker came around from the other side of Mrs Donovan's sleeping body and he took a position between us.
"Hey Ryke," I said, using the old nickname I had for him. "How you doin' boy?"
Ryker tilted his head and his ears perked up. I extended my hand and he took a tentative step forward and sniffed my fingers -- within seconds he was licking my face and I was scratching him behind the ears as my first old friend recognized me. I only hoped my next encounter went as well -- speaking of which I saw Mrs Donovan shift position and turn her head in my direction, strands of her blond hair covering her lithe features. She was back to her natural colour.
I scratched Ryker one more time and approached my sleeping beauty. Mrs Donovan's face remained unfazed as the deck creaked beneath my feet -- she was as heavy a sleeper as ever. I looked around the yard and there was nary a trace that any one else lived with her. I remembered noticing that her immaculate Toyota Celica convertible was parked in the centre of her driveway -- there was the one lawn chair and one seat to her shaded patio table. An old metallic swing awaited at the opposite corner of the yard, shaded by tall maple trees.
I looked upon Mrs Donovan and I felt my face flush. Her skin was amber in tint and covered in beads of sweat -- some ran as rivulets and pooled in the curve of her lower back. I was struck by how tiny she was though -- tinier than I remembered. Even though I stood only 5'10, I towered over her. She barely stood over 5 feet and weighed about 105 lbs. My mind flashed with the image of her lying on top of me, my stiff cock entering her tight pussy while I spread the cheeks of her bubbly ass.
I shook that thought away for now and genuflected next to her -- I picked up the bottle of sunscreen and poured some of the sweet smelling cream into my hands. When I began to work the cream into her slender shoulders, I admired the firmness of the taut muscles of her back. I reached the curve of her lower back and stopped at the edge of her bikini bottom -- the slightest evidence of her ass crack was visible, enticing and delectable.
"Mmm ..." Mrs Donovan exclaimed as she finally stirred under my massaging of her back. I brushed against her firm ass and it wiggled invitingly. Her breaths quickened when I touched her sides and that's when she stiffened. I knew her beautiful hazel eyes had to be open.
" I couldn't let you burn, Mrs Donovan," I said as I worked the sunscreen on her slender thighs.
"Scotty?" she asked as she gazed over her shoulder. "Scott!"
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Mrs Donovan twisted like a cat and jumped into my arms -- it was a strangely intimate sensation, holding her. Unbeknownst to her, the triangles of fabric that should cover her small, firm tits had slumped on her chest and I felt her hard, pointy nipples dig into my hairy chest. I still knelt on the deck and she was on her knees on the lawn chair while Ryker sniffed and circled us and let out the occasional bark. I stood and carried her upwards like a feather weighted doll. She held me tight as I gently lowered her to the deck, her nipples still in contact with my skin. I was sure she must have felt the bulge in my cargo shorts but she lingered in our embrace.
"My god, Scotty!" Mrs Donovan said. Her voice was like a song bird's early morning tune. "What're you doing here?"
"Making sure you don't get a sun burn," I said as I smiled. It was then that Mrs Donovan realized the skin of her chest was touching mine -- she froze as a wave of embarrassment washed across her lovely face. It flushed the way mine had when I had first seen her a few moments ago -- she was understanding I was no longer a boy. Despite the shock, she offered little resistance as I turned her around and raised her arms -- I grabbed the edges of the cups of her bikini top and covered her nakedness and tied the string behind her back.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered as she crossed her hands over her covered tits. Her back was stilled turned to me while I rested my hands on her shoulders. Her ass still pressed against my shorts.
