Just Being Neighbourly 1

I've had this story on my radar for quite a while, but never really knew what to do with it. Suddenly, inspiration struck, and two days later, here we are.

I want all my readers to know that I've been listening to your feedback. I've written 50 stories so far (this is number 51), and the only 2 with disappointing ratings are the 2 with the least character. I promise to never again write a tale just for the sake of writing it, and I'd like at some point to rewrite those 2 'failures'.

I like this one, and I hope you do, too. It might be a series, but, as always, I leave that to you. Please send me your thoughts, and cast your votes.

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I walked over to the 'For Sale' sign on the front lawn. There was a 'SOLD' banner affixed diagonally across the sign. It was now

my

front lawn. My

new

front lawn. I pulled, but the sign wouldn't budge.

I suppose that's an effect of the house being on the market for so long. The sign had become firmly entrenched. I kicked it a few times, then wiggled it back and forth, widening the gap around the post. At last, I wrenched it free, and held it aloft like a victorious combatant.

"Take that!" I muttered, and tossed it aside.

I stood in my yard, looking at my house. It was a nice enough starting point, with potential, but truthfully, I didn't care for the inside much. It was old, and cramped, with numerous tiny rooms that didn't fit well with modern life. I was going to be busy for quite a while with this one.

The surrounding yard and area are what really got my attention when I saw the listing. It was a long established neighbourhood, with very large lots, and individually built homes. By that I mean, not done by one contractor, as a subdivision. There were big, mature trees everywhere. When I put in the offer, the house had been empty for two years, so I tested the sellers desperation. Turns out they were pretty close to giving up, and took the offer quickly.

So now I was a homeowner again. 'I' was. There was no 'we'.

***

Inside, I looked at the bare plaster walls, and tried to envision what I wanted to do with the place. I walked over to my bag, and pulled out a can of spray paint. I spent a few minutes marking the walls I thought should go, the doorways I'd like to move, and that sort of thing. A friend of mine, who was an engineer, would be visiting tomorrow, and we would hash out the details of posts, headers and bearing walls then. Until we did, I kept my sledgehammer holstered.

Besides, I was planning to live here through the process, so I couldn't just gut the place. A carefully thought out plan was needed, so I would have a functional home while I destroyed the rest of it.

Construction was no problem. Neither was plumbing, or minor HVAC. The only thing I'd need help with was electrical, because that kind of scared me. Not the potential of getting a shock. Rather the potential of burning the house down by doing it wrong. I had no problem deferring to licensed professionals for that work.

Well, that's not entirely true. I had

one

problem with electricians. Specifically, the three that had been working on my last house. Their work had been just fine. My only quibble was them fucking my wife.

That house had been progressing nicely, and I came home one day to a pretty quiet scene, until I stopped in the kitchen. That's when I heard the sounds.

I had heard them before. Belinda, my wife, had a rather unique vocalization during sex...a squeaky yelp that I used to find endearing...but only when it was my cock causing it. Walking quietly down the hall, I saw them.

Belinda was plugged full. In electrical terms, her box was maxed out. She had three outlets and they were all in use. Yes, that's right...my petite little bride of ten years was taking it every way a woman can, all at once. One in the pussy, one in her formerly pretty, kissable mouth (which I would never kiss again), and one in her ass. What's more, it didn't appear that she was being forced to do any of it, if her sounds were any indication.

While I watched, the guy in her mouth stiffened, and grunted, obviously spewing down her throat. She swallowed most of it, but her face caught a few stray gobs.

"More! I want more!" she hissed. The guy in her ass pulled out, and moved around so she could suck him. She didn't even hesitate, gobbling the shaft that had only seconds earlier been stretching her bowel open. He came too, and she smiled as his semen sprayed her face, catching what she could with her tongue. It was too much for the guy under her, and her exploded inside her pussy, while she voiced her disappointment in not getting a third facial.

I walked out, stunned. Belinda and I had always been happy, or so I thought. Now, suddenly she's a porn star, and I don't think I know her at all. Worse yet, when I confronted her later, she denied it...at first...then wasn't even contrite. I began to wonder exactly how long I had been a dupe, and how many other men had been banging my supposedly faithful wife.

I started the divorce the next day. If I couldn't trust her, I couldn't love her.

***

So that's what led me here.

New

home.

New

life.

No

wife. Thirty-one years old.

For nearly a month, since I moved in, I had buried myself in work and renovations. I was making good progress, and keeping my mind off the way my life used to be. I could do without women for a while.

I was getting ready to hoist a new header into place over a doorway that had become a six foot wide arch, when the doorbell rang. It (the doorbell) was hanging loosely by its wires in mid air, in what used to be the main hall, so it made an awful racket. I answered quickly, so whomever it was wouldn't ring again.

I opened the door, and found a pretty brunette.

"Hi, I'm Charlotte...your neighbour, three doors down. We haven't met yet," she smiled.

"Of course. I'm Dan," I replied, wiping the dust off my hand before offering it.

"We're having a little barbecue later today...kind of a neighbourhood mixer...and my husband and I wanted to invite you," she said, shaking my hand. "I can see you're busy, but if you can pry yourself away, we'd love to welcome you to the neighbourhood." Another smile.

Well, I guess I could use a break.

"Okay. I have about an hour of stuff to do, but I'll be there. Three doors, you say?" I laughed.

"Yes!" she grinned. "That way," she pointed. "See you then."

"Should I bring anything?" I asked. She was already walking away.

"No, just yourself. You're our guest," she called over her shoulder.

I closed the door, and went back to my task. It didn't take long, then I hit the shower and changed. Despite Charlotte's insistence that I needn't bring anything, I dug a bottle of wine out of a box, and headed out.

***

Being the only one I 'knew' at the party, Charlotte took me by the arm and introduced me around. I must admit, the names began to blur after the first dozen people or so. Everyone was friendly, and in pairs. I was the only soloist so far.

With the round complete, she was just about to cut me loose, when she noticed one person she had missed. She seemed hesitant.

"That's your next door neighbour, Karen," she said softly. "Poor dear, she hasn't been the same since her husband died suddenly a year ago. She used to be so vibrant and happy. I had to practically drag her here today."

I looked across the yard at her, sitting quietly in a lawn chair, nursing a drink, and obviously wishing to be elsewhere.

Misery loves company.

I walked over.

"Hi, I'm Dan. I hope the banging hasn't been keeping you awake," I said, extending my hand. She had a beautiful mane of wavy red hair, and very attractive blue eyes.

"Um, I'm sorry...banging?" she asked, taking my hand, her brow furrowed.

"Yes. I'm the source of the noise next door. Your new neighbour," I laughed.

"Oh, that? Don't worry about it. I've hardly heard a thing," she smiled. "I'm Karen."

"May I sit?" I asked. She hesitated slightly.

"Yes, of course. Take a seat." We sat in silence for a minute or two. "So, what are you doing over there, at your house I mean? You and your wife renovating?"

"Renovating yes...wife no," I replied.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I just assumed..." she apologized.

"No problem," I smiled, then continued, solemnly. "I'm sorry to hear about your loss."

"Ah, Charlotte filled you in, did she?" I nodded. "She's a bit of a busybody. I do appreciate your sentiment, however." She sat, deep in thought for a few seconds, then shook her head. "Enough. Tearing the place apart, are you?"

"Pretty much," I laughed, and we spent some time talking about my plans. She knew the previous owners, and had been in the house often, so she had a fair idea what I was talking about. Her eyes showed genuine interest.

Sitting next to her, I was able to get a good look at my new neighbour. She would appear to be pretty tall, if the length of her smooth, muscular legs was any indication. Unlike many of the other women here, I didn't see any spread in her midsection. Then there was her chest, very full, round and attention getting. Apparently, I lived next door to the neighbourhood hottie. Things might be looking up.

The party was a welcome distraction, and it was nice to finally meet everyone that shared my location. Still, it had to end sometime, and as darkness fell, I said my goodbyes, getting hugs from several of the women, including Charlotte. I looked over, and Karen was standing. She

was

tall, and had a hopeful smile on her face.

"Do you mind if I walk home with you?" she asked. "I don't like being out alone in the dark."

"Of course," I replied, and we walked out, down the long driveway, and out to the street.

'Three doors' in this area was about four hundred feet, and Karen's house was one past mine. It took a couple of minutes, and we walked in silence, while I tried not to get caught checking her out again. She was wearing shorts that were quite brief, and quite snug, showing off a very nicely shaped bum, and those long legs. I'd been several months without female companionship, and it was starting to take a toll. My eyes were now on the prowl.

I walked Karen to her front door, and waited while she unlocked the it. Her front light was on, and when she turned to face me, I could see a few small lines on her face, the only outward indicators of her age. Her eyes looked over my face, and I peeked at her lips, which appeared very soft and kissable. Those lips pecked me on the cheek.

"Thank you for walking me home, and welcome to the neighbourhood," she smiled, and waved as she stepped in. "Goodnight."

***

I didn't see much of anyone for the next few weeks. A few long distance waves, or honks from passing cars, but that was it. Chalk it up to the nature of the heavily treed area.

I made good progress inside the house, and had the downstairs nearly completed, save the trim, paint, and flooring, anyway. It was Friday, and I was giving myself the night off, lounging in my bedroom, watching TV, when the doorbell rang.

I was still dressed, so I hustled down the stairs, flipped on the front light, and opened the door.

"Karen! What are you doing out in the dark?" I laughed.

"Help! Come with me please!" she gasped frantically, leading the way. I followed, noticing for the first time that she was barefoot, and dressed for bed.

"I didn't know who else to turn to, and you're the closest, and I figured since you're doing renovations, you'd know what to do..." she explained, over her shoulder as she went. She ducked through the bushes between our lots, taking a shortcut, and ran up her front steps. As I stepped in, she was standing at the kitchen door, anxiously. I could hear water gushing.

I rushed in. Karen was now trying to stem the tide that was fountaining up from the cold water side of the faucet, using a towel. It wasn't working. Water was everywhere, spraying her in the face, the wall, the fridge...and pooling on the floor.

"I tried the shutoff," she sputtered, "but I couldn't turn it. I'm not strong enough!"

I dropped into the growing puddle...damn, that water was cold!...and reached into the bottom of the cupboard. I couldn't get a good grip, so I rolled onto my back, banging into her leg. Her foot slipped, and she stepped over me, but I was too busy fighting with the stuck handle to notice. It was jammed. When I looked up through the curtain of water cascading off the counter onto me, I saw her legs.

All

of her legs. All the way to the top. She was wearing boy-shorts, but they were soaked, plastered to her legs, and showing a little patch of red curls at the crotch.

"No good!" I yelled. "Basement?"

"Over there..." she called, nodding left to the door. I scrambled out through her legs, and raced down the stairs.

It took me a minute to find the main, but I did, and thankfully, this handle worked. I cranked it closed.

I looked at myself. I was drenched, and swept the wet hair out of my face, taking a deep breath as I walked up the stairs.

"Got it," I said as I stepped into the soggy kitchen.

Holy shit!

I gasped.

Karen was leaning back against the counter top, catching her breath, and trying to untangle her wet mop. Her hair wasn't the only thing that was wet. Her pink top and shorts were nearly transparent, and glued to her curves like a second skin. She may as well have been naked, and her nipples were standing tall, presumably from the cold water. She was gorgeous, but I had to assume she didn't know she was giving me the show of a lifetime.

"Um, Karen?" I laughed, averting my eyes with difficulty.

"Yes?" she replied, looking at me, then catching a glimpse of the pink prongs that were poking holes in her top. "Oh my god!" she gasped, and turned away, hiding her front but showing me her luscious ass in the process. "I, um, I..." she blurted, fumbling in a drawer for another towel. She came out with one, but it was too small to cover both her boobs, let alone her pussy, which she may not even know she was showing me.

"It's okay. Go change, and I'll clean up here," I offered, trying to ease her embarrassment.

"Thank you. Close your eyes?" she giggled.

"Of course," I smiled, and did.

"Thank you!" she called as she raced out, leaving me alone with a small lake, a few towels, and an erection.

About five minutes later, she was back, fully dressed, overdressed in fact, and my erection had faded, so neither of us had anything to be embarrassed about. I had managed to sop up the majority of the water, and was now looking over the broken faucet handle. It was a very old piece of plumbing, as was the shutoff, so I wasn't surprised it broke.

"I just wanted a small drink of water," Karen sighed, "and look what happened. Thank you so much for rescuing me. I guess I'm calling a plumber tomorrow."

"I can help you, if you'd like. I fixed the plumbing at my house, so I'd be happy to fix yours too."

Yes, I heard it. I didn't mean it to sound sexual, but it sure did. Freud would say it wasn't an accident.

Karen was trying to control her smirk, but failed, and burst out laughing.

"Let me rephrase that," I winced...

"I think I know what you meant, and thank you," she giggled. "Okay, so what do we need to do?"

"Well, we need a new faucet for sure, and new shutoffs...that actually

shut off

..." I listed. "I have the tools, so it shouldn't take too long. However, until then, you are out of water."

"Damn!" she gasped. "That's right, isn't it? No shower, no toilet..."

"No problem," I added. "I have both, and extra room. You could stay at my place until we get it fixed."

Yes, I heard that too. I swear I wasn't hitting on her, or suggesting anything untoward.

She stared at me for several seconds, her blue eyes twinkling, as if trying to make a decision, before she nodded.

"Okay. I'll get some stuff together, and come over in a few minutes. Thank you again," she smiled, and kissed my cheek once more. "My hero."

I went home, changed out of my wet clothes, into dry ones, and raided the linen closet. I had just finished making up the bed in the spare room, when she rang.

I let her in. She looked like a sexy participant in a sleepover, toting a pillow and small overnight bag.

"Hi bunkie!" she giggled. "Where's my room?"

She followed me upstairs, and into the spare room. The upstairs was, as yet, largely untouched, so she knew where everything was.

"Thank you again, Dan. If not for you, I'm sure I'd be drowning by now," she smiled. "I'm making you breakfast tomorrow. It's the least I can do, so what's your pleasure?"

Okay, now she was doing it, making comments that could be taken as a come on.

"I think I have bacon and eggs," I replied, pretending I didn't catch the double entendre. "That'll do fine."

"Good. Alright, I'll see you in the morning," she nodded.

"Goodnight, Karen," I said.

"Goodnight, Jon boy," she laughed.

***

I woke to the gentle dawn, and the sound of water. On the ceiling of my bedroom, a streak of bright light signalled someone's presence in the bathroom. It took me a minute to put things together, and realize that it was Karen, and she was in the shower.

It was an old house, and some of the doors didn't fit that well anymore. Floors settle. Walls get out of plumb. Some stuck, and this one, a pocket door, left a small gap at the top corner, hence the light on the ceiling.

I wanted to peek. She was in my shower, and I wanted to see that body I had viewed last night under her wet nightwear.

But that would be wrong, wouldn't it? Just one little peek?

I caved, and stood, squinting through the steam, as the water stopped, and she stepped out of the tub.

My god, she was absolutely incredible. Her breasts, her ass, her legs, her slim frame...she was a goddess, with distinct tan lines from what must be a very naughty bikini. The contrast made her look even curvier. Suddenly, my claim that I could do without a woman seemed a little shaky.

I went back to bed, sporting a massive woodie, and wishing somehow she would just come and join me.

Oh, what I'd give to get my hands on her

. My dreams were filled with her body.

***

I smelled bacon cooking, and knew what that meant. Breakfast was nearly ready. I made my morning pit stop, pulled on a pair of shorts and a shirt, and headed downstairs.

Karen looked immaculate, wearing those short shorts again. She obviously knew she had great legs, and wasn't too shy to show them off. When I walked into the kitchen, she smiled.

"Good morning," she sang happily. "Did you sleep well?"

"I did, yes," I replied. "You?"

"Yes thank you," she giggled. "Hungry?"

Oh yeah, but not for bacon and eggs

, I thought.

"Starving," I said, as she put the plate in front of me. She took hers and sat across from me.

"So, tell me about Dan. What's your story?" she asked.

I filled in some blanks for her, told her the reason for my divorce, and what led me to this area. I left out the details of witnessing my wife's slutty behaviour.

"That's very sad. No one should do that to someone they love," she said quietly. "Ten years of trust, gone in an instant, and for what? A few minutes pleasure? I was married for twenty-three years, all of them good. My husband was killed in an accident. I'm not sure which is worse, betrayal or tragedy."

I did the math. Married twenty-three years. Plus one year...she had to be at least forty-two. She sure didn't look it.

"Any kids?" I asked.

"No. We tried, but it just wasn't to be," she sighed.

"Karen," I said, "may I ask how old you are?" The direct approach.

"Didn't your mother teach you never to ask that?" she giggled. "I'm forty-six."