Mistletoe Lane #6 Cindy
When I was in high school, we lived on a quiet street in the suburbs called Mistletoe Lane. It was a cul-de-sac with about 15 houses, all of them occupied by white, yuppie families with multiple kids. Most of the wives were in their mid-thirties, and were very attractive. Most of their husbands were salesmen or corporate types who worked long hours and were frequently out of town on business.
As a senior in high school who had recently turned 18, I really enjoyed spending time with these hot, sexy older women. I was very attracted to most of the women on our street, and tried every excuse I could think of to be at their houses when their husbands were gone.
All of the adults on our street thought I was very responsible and mature for my age, and they had no trouble with me babysitting their kids and mowing their yards. I loved the money I received for these chores, but more importantly I liked being around the women of Mistletoe Lane.
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I couldn't believe the news when my parents told me: We were going to move to a bigger house in another neighborhood. We were leaving Mistletoe Lane! I was devastated. I doubted that the women in our new neighborhood would be as hot or as friendly as the women of Mistletoe Lane.
During the house-selling process, the real estate agent would call, letting us know someone was coming to look at the house. This meant we had to vacate the house, immediately!
One Tuesday afternoon this happened, but the problem was I needed to shower and get dressed for my after-school job. My mom called our neighbor, Miss Cindy, and asked if I could come over, shower, and get ready for work. Cindy said that was fine, so I grabbed my work clothes and hurried over to her house across the street, while my mother and sister got in the car for a quick trip to the mall.
Cindy greeted me at the door with a smile. "Got kicked out of your own house, huh?" she joked.
"Yeah, can you believe that?" I followed Cindy through her house, suddenly not in a big hurry to get to work, and wishing I had called in sick.
"You can use the upstairs bathroom," Cindy said, as we began to climb the stairs.
"Sure, sounds good." I watched Cindy's legs as she walked up the stairs in front of me. Cindy was a good-looking mom in her mid-30's, with twin 2-year old girls. She had short brown hair, a pretty smile, and very tan skin from hours of sunbathing by her pool.