"Wait, you caught him doing what now?"
Joan sat across from me at our kitchen table. Light from the setting sun streamed through the patio doors, highlighting her still (mostly) natural blonde hair. Her smile was gentle yet curious, with an almost mirthful twinkle in her eye.
"He was sniffing our panties, Jo."
Joan sat back in her seat, her short silken robe slipping open just enough to reveal what I already knew of course; that she was completely nude beneath it.
"Tess, my darling," she smirked, "perhaps you need to start from the beginning."
***
It started earlier that morning, when I spotted Martin, our neighbor, in his yard. We'd known him and his lovely wife Ellen since we'd moved here eight years ago.
While they were roughly twenty years older than Joan and myself, we got on quite well with them. Ellen loved to cook and invited us over often for meals. Martin, meanwhile, was the handyman, always volunteering to help whenever we needed something fixed around the house.
When Ellen passed suddenly a year ago, Martin had been devastated. Joan and I did our best to comfort and support him, of course. But for the past several months he'd been reclusive, not answering calls nor even the door when we knocked.
So it was a pleasant surprise to find him outside, tending to his long neglected garden.
"Martin!" I called out. "So lovely to see you!"
Martin wiped a bead of sweat from his brow as he approached the chain link fence that separated our properties. Leaning over it, we managed an awkward hug. The heat of the day had already left a sheen of sweat on our skin, yet neither of us minded. I was happy he felt comfortable enough to want contact. And while his scent was strong, I certainly didn't find it unpleasant.
"Tessa, good to see you. It's been too long."
"It has." I kissed him on the cheek before breaking our embrace.
I truly didn't want to do the typical "How are you doing?" thing. The man had lost his wife, the love of his life, at the age of sixty. He'd been through hell, but was trying to carry on.
And so instead I steered our conversation towards the mundane; the weather, chores, the usual minutiae that neighbors share.
Still, I couldn't help but worry about him a little. His salt and pepper hair was in desperate need of a proper cut. He'd lost weight since last I'd seen him, his usual stocky build now, not quite gaunt, but definitely undernourished. It was obvious he hadn't been eating. Nor had he been outside lately; his normally tan skin now pale and threatening to burn in the hot August sun.
Still, his steel blue eyes looked happier than last I'd seen him. I decided to take a shot at hopefully rekindling our friendship.
"Hey, I've been meaning to ask," I tried to segue the conversation as casually as I could, "I ordered these new organizer shelves for our closet. They're a lot more complicated than I expected. You know I hate to bother you, but do you think..."
As I'd hoped, Martin jumped on the offer before I could finish. "Of course, Tess. Let me just grab my tools and I'll be right over!"
"Oh, no rush," I chuckled. "Finish your yard work first. I actually really need to go back inside, tidy up a few things, and take a shower. But just pop on over whenever you're ready. And I'm making you lunch as payment. No arguments."
With that I went back inside, goosebumps rising on my bare skin as my body adjusted to the cooler temperature of the house.
Heading upstairs to the bedroom, I stripped off my sweaty tank top along with the sports bra I'd worn beneath, my breasts grateful to be released from the snug confines.
My shorts and panties came off next. I couldn't help but take a whiff of them. They were heavy with the fragrance of sweat and femininity. "Joan would love these," I thought as I threw them in the hamper.
It was a shared kink between us, our mutual love of each other's scent. Admiring myself in the mirror, I couldn't help but wish Joan was there to gleefully lick the beads of moisture that had formed in my cleavage and under my breasts. It wouldn't take long for her oh so talented tongue to work its way lower, to my sweat soaked cleft.
My fingers traced the wet pubes that matched my chestnut brown hair for a few moments before I brought my fingers to my nose. My body trembled as I breathed in, aching to be explored further as my thoughts drifted to early this morning and the time Joan and I had spent together before she had to head into the office for an emergency meeting.
"No," I shook my head, "not now. Too much to do before Martin arrives." Refocusing my energies, I turned my attention to tidying up; making the bed, picking up the loose articles of clothing, including Joan's panties. They had somehow wound up hanging off our computer monitor after I'd hastily pulled them from her this morning. I also cleaned and put away our vibrators and other sex toys.
I then had to empty the closet so that Martin could install the new shelves.
I did all of this naked, as I often was, especially in the warmer seasons. I loved being naked and wished I could go nude outdoors, but then, there were the neighbors to consider.
Well, really there was only Martin. His house sat adjacent to ours, our properties divided by the easily seen through fence. Behind us was a small plot of woods that separated our property from the houses on the opposite side of the block. And the house to the other side had been empty now for several years.
I wondered if Martin would mind me sunbathing nude. I also often wondered if he'd ever seen me or Joan naked through our bedroom window. His bedroom window was right across from ours, and I often forgot to close the curtains.
I paused from my activities to look out our window. I could see nothing through his, of course; the sun reflecting off the glass made it impossible to peer into his room. Which probably meant he couldn't see into ours either.
Still, my heart fluttered more than a little at the thought of being seen. I'd always had an exhibitionist streak in me, a streak I hadn't really indulged in since my days as earning money for college as a stripper.
It's how Joan and I had met. She'd been the first woman to ever ask me for a lap dance. And I'd been more than happy to oblige her. Because she was fucking gorgeous.
I still remember my heart racing as I straddled her face, my G-string covered pussy just inches from her luscious lips as I danced provocatively, swinging and thrusting my hips, as if begging her to kiss me there. Which I suppose I was.
She couldn't of course. Against the rules of the club. So instead she leaned in, as close as she could without making actual contact, and inhaled. Her stunning blueish green eyes locked into mine as she breathed me in, and I knew immediately she wasn't just a curious or confused girl, but a woman who knew exactly what she wanted: another woman.
Me.
She took me home that night, and I never left, really.
Twenty years later, our desire for each other was still as strong as ever, although often tempered by the realities of life. And Joan had always been indulgent of my occasional wanderlust. While she had no need or desire for men, I, on the other hand, occasionally, well... dabbled.
But not in a long time. The past several years had been a happy if somewhat routine life, and as time passed I found Joan was all I really needed.
Joan; my lovely, sweet Joan. At 45, still the sexiest woman ever. Time had only matured her like a fine wine.
Looking in the full length mirror of our bedroom, I had to admit time hadn't been that harsh on me, either.
I stood there, admiring my full figured body and debating on whether I had time for a quick fingering session before my shower when the doorbell rang.
I quickly slipped on my robe and headed downstairs.
"You're early."
Martin blushed, taken aback at the sight of me in my bathrobe. "I'm sorry, Tess. Did I catch you at a bad time? I can come back later if..."
"Oh, don't be silly." I offered him a reassuring smile. "Come on in. Get out of the heat; it's getting more oppressive by the minute!"
Martin stepped inside gratefully and followed me upstairs. I suddenly became very aware of just how short my robe was. I've never been shy, but still I felt the need to be mindful of just how far I was ahead of him, and where his eye level might be.
If Martin had seen anything untoward, he certainly didn't mention it. And while his face did appear a little flushed as we entered the bedroom, that may have simply been a residual effect of the early afternoon heat.
Martin browsed quickly through the organizer instruction manual. "Should be easy enough. Nothing a screwdriver, drill and a tape measure can't fix."
"Good," I smiled. "I was hoping it wouldn't be too complicated. I meant to take a shower before you arrived. So if you don't mind, I'll just leave you to it then."
I could feel Martin's eyes on me as I moved to my dresser to gather some fresh clothes, but when I turned back to him, he was again absorbed in reading the manual.
"Back in a few." I made my way to the bathroom, giggling slightly as I closed the door. It had been a long while since I'd been alone with a man, and although obviously nothing was going to happen between us, I still felt a little thrill as I removed my robe.
The water was warming up and I was just about to step in when I remembered I'd left my skin cream lotion in the bedroom, and I'd want to apply it in the bathroom since Martin was obviously going to be in my room.
Slipping my robe back on, I stepped out of the bathroom and down the hall.
I stopped short at my still open bedroom door. Martin was standing next to the laundry basket I'd removed from the closet earlier. He was holding two pairs of panties to his nose, inhaling deeply. His free hand rested over what was an obvious bulge in his khaki shorts.
To say I was stunned would be an understatement. Martin had always been so polite, so reserved. I'd never have thought him capable of such a thing.
But then, the man had recently lost his wife, his one true love. Perhaps he was just lonely. And of course even older men still have physical needs, desires... lusts.
I found myself not angry with him, but sympathetic. Understanding. And, as I watched him take another deep breath from the worn garments, more than a little excited.
Memories came rushing back; my first night with Joan. How quickly we'd embraced our mutual kink, the hours we'd spent enjoying, not just the erotic fragrance of femininity, but the sweat, the smell and taste of salty skin, the pheromones that quickened our pulses and made us ache for each other.
