Hi, this story is a continuation of my "That Saturday Morning" story. So many people contacted me asking what happened with Phil next, that I thought the least I could do was write something. If you want to understand a little more about Carole, please read that story first.
Either way, I hope you enjoy it.
Carole managed to avoid her neighbor for a few days. She kept an eye out for him and only went outside when he wasn't around. She wasn't working today and was home alone. The heatwave was mostly over and though it was still warm, it wasn't uncomfortable like it had been. Fresh from the shower Carole stood in her bedroom wearing a pair of gray sweat pants and pulling a white T shirt on over her head. She bent forward, throwing her dark red wavy hair forward and blowing it dry with the hairdryer. Somewhere off in the distance she heard a sound, it didn't register. She carried on drying and the sound got louder, at last something clicked.
"Shit..." she swore to herself, switching off the hairdryer and throwing it on the bed, "I haven't put the bins out. Carole rushed downstairs, through the kitchen and out the back door, grabbing the wheelie bin as she went and dragging it down the narrow ally between her house and and the neighbors, and out onto the street.
"haha, come on love, hurry up..." the bin men jeered and laughed at her as she rushed to catch them. The late morning sun shone down the length of the street, and onto her back and left hand side "That's alright love, I got it." one of them said, approaching her with a grin, she thought she noticed him glance at her chest as he took the bin from her.
"Thank you." she replied and feeling it would be rude to just walk away, she waited as he took her bin, to the lorry, attached it to the mechanism and emptied it. She watched as her bin rose into the air, then looked at the bin men, they were both watching her, and looked away when she noticed them. Carole recognized that look and was reminded of what had happened at the weekend. She looked down at her own chest. The sun shone through side of her T shirt making a clear silhouette of her large breasts. Her first instinct was to wrap her arms around her chest to hide them. But as her arms moved, she felt the tingle of nervous excitement in her tummy at the thought of the men watching her, and instead, she raised her hands to her head. As the refuse collector walked toward her with her bin in tow, she pushed her fingers into her damp dark auburn locks and pulled her hair back off her face, shaking her head to loosen the waves.
The stranger watched intently as her soft breasts moved, silhouetted and unhindered beneath the thin cotton T shirt. The short hem lifting to expose the low cut waistband of her jog pants, her little round potbelly and her deep dark bellybutton. "Thank you so much," Carole said as the man returned her bin.
"Your welcome love..." he grinned "anytime." Carole turned to head back to her house, feeling naughty and excited, but stopped suddenly. Stood by her gate, waiting for her, was Phil, the old man from next door. He was a tall slender old man, with thin white hair and long, suntanned, sinewy limbs. Carole didn't know exactly how old he was, but knew he was nearly seventy, she thought. He wore shorts, sandals, socks and a polo shirt, all of which were, of course, immaculate. As was his house and garden, there wasn't a blade of grass out of place. He kept himself fit and active by never stopping doing stuff. He watched Carole as she turned and the grin on his face told her he knew exactly what she had just been doing, it was the same grin he had last time she saw him.
"Hello Carole," he greeted her as her face flushed bright red with embarrassment. Not just because of what he had just caught her doing, but also because of what she was doing the last time he saw her. In fact, that was the main reason he knew what was really going on with the bin men just then.
"Hi." she answered in a timid whisper.
"Here, let me help you with that," he insisted as she approached her front gate, and he took the bin handle from her with one hand while holding the gate open for her with the other. She led the way down the narrow ally beside her house. Her embarrassment growing as she looked up at his window and remembered the grin he had worn as he watched her from there. She glanced back at him and immediately wished she hadn't, he was watching her round bottom in the tight jog pants and looked up when she looked back, with no hint that he had been doing anything he shouldn't. "Any chance of a brew?" he asked as he followed her into the back garden.
"Um, yeah sure." Carole answered, longing to say no fuck off, but she just didn't have it in her, she was really a bit of a push over. They went into the small dining kitchen, Phil sat at the table and watched as Carole made him a cup of tea, and a coffee for herself.
"How have you been?" he asked, "I haven't seen you for a few days."
"I'm okay..." she answered, finding it hard to concentrate. Her mind was racing, trying to figure out what was going on. Phil had popped round for a brew plenty of times before of course. Especially since her divorce. But this time it felt different, strained somehow, there was a long awkward silence. "How have you been?" Carole asked, stirring milk into her coffee.
"Oh fine, fine," he answered "are the boys out?" he asked.
"Yes," she replied, "both at work today." She pressed the teabag against the side of the cup.
"And you, a day off? When are you in work next?" He continued.
"Tomorrow," she answered, "then I am in for a few days." Carole stirred milk into the old mans tea, there was another long silence as the spoon made little tink tink noises and she waited. She was sure the old man had something on his mind and she was worried that she may be right about what it was.
"I Won't beat around the bush Carole," the old man suddenly burst out "I am a very direct man, always have been. I... I haven't been able to get you out of my mind since Saturday." Carole froze, the spoon falling silent, she stood at the counter with her back to the elderly neighbor. There it was, exactly what she was worried about, direct is right, straight to the fucking point. She didn't move, but stood waiting to see where he was going with this. "I have thought long and hard about how a woman like you would get into such a, ahem, situation. And, well, it seemed to me, that man must have started it, I just can't imagine you doing so." Carole placed the spoon on the counter and then both hands on it to steady herself, she was trembling with nerves, longing for the ground to open and swallow her, anything to avoid this awkward conversation. "But this morning," the old man continued, "I watched you with those bin men, and you were... showing off."
Carole jumped, the chair behind her making a loud scraping sound on the tile floor as the old man got to his feet. "I see now that you want the attention, you crave the attention" he approached her quietly, she leaned on the worktop, unable to move her heart racing. "You long to be noticed, wanted, to be desired, touched." Carole was panting softly, her body quivered as she tried and tried to move, just to get away, listening in horror as the old neighbor described her symptoms perfectly, as if she had told him her deepest secrets herself. She flinched suddenly as his hand came to rest on the deep curve of her waist. "It's okay," he whispered into her ear as the long slender fingers of his other hand pulled her wavy auburn hair back off her shoulder, "I think I understand, I can feel you trembling. Is that with fear, or excitement? I think it's the later."
He moved close, pressing himself into her soft voluptuous body, and placed his lips against her smooth warm neck. Kissing her gently as his fingers slid from her hair and down her back to hold her waist together with his other hand. "P... please Phil," Carole stammered as the old mans lips moved up and down her neck and collarbone, kissing and nuzzling her, "please don't."
"I don't think you mean that. Do you really want me to stop?" Carole tried to speak, her head screaming that this was all wrong, but he was right, she longed for the attention, he wanted her and she couldn't say no. "I can hear you panting, I feel your body trembling. It is something I haven't felt for years, but it was a passion of mine back then, and my wife's, we had an... understanding." Cool hands held her waist gently, caressing her softly under her T shirt. "She craved the attention as well, and I was happy to oblige, as long as I was in control. I thought that had all ended for me, but now." Suddenly the old mans hands moved up inside Carole's T shirt and quickly took hold of her large, soft, warm breasts, lifting and caressing them. His fingers closing on them, pressing deep into the yielding flesh as his mouth opened to devour her neck. With a whimper Carole made a halfhearted attempt to shrug him off, but her head just rolled to one side exposing more of her smooth pale neck and shoulder to him.
