The Young Man Next Door Ch 01

Part I

Making Friends

She wrestled with the large pots and thorny rose bushes to get them to the open tailgate of the pickup, squatting and duck walking under the low cap that covered the truck bed. Once she got them to the tailgate, though, she realized she was stuck. She could not possibly lift them from the truck, let alone carry them into the yard. She pondered her options. The wheel barrow? Ask one of the neighbors?

When he saw her plight, the young man hurried to help her. "May I help you, please?" he said, stepping up to the first pot and lifting it with strong, youthful arms, not waiting for an answer. She recognized him as one of the kids who lived across the alley—the eldest, she thought. He had appeared out of nowhere, it seemed, but she suspected, given the way he was looking at her, that he had been watching her for awhile. In fact, he had been doing just that, peering out of his bedroom window at first, then over his backyard fence. He'd been admiring the way her womanly form revealed itself beneath her clothing as she strained against the heavy pots. Mature women could be so very interesting somehow. He sprung at the opportunity to lend a hand once he saw his opening.

She was a little flattered at the idea that such a handsome—and young—man should pay attention to her. She smiled at him, shrugged her shoulders, and nodded toward the side door of the garage which emptied into the back yard. He carried the load without effort, it seemed to her. She watched his sinewy arms bulge in the short sleeves of his tight, stretchy tee shirt. She allowed herself to admire his taught buns in the silky, baggy sport-shorts so popular among young guys these days. His legs were slender and muscular, she noted.

She followed him into the yard and indicated the place he should put his load. She watched his rippling muscles as he squatted toward the ground and set the pot down. He had not broken a sweat and was already headed back for the next rose bush. He smiled at her as he passed by, his white teeth flashing in the noonday sun. She smiled in return and then followed him back into the garage, her eyes practically ogling his firm, young butt. She was mildly ashamed of herself, but saw no harm in looking.

As he turned to grasp the next bush, she observed the way his stretched tee shirt revealed his pecs and abs. Oh, my, he was fit. He caught her staring at him and smiled vaguely to himself before lifting the burden and proceeding back into the yard. She followed once more and again showed him where to put the heavy, potted plant. She reprised her observation of his muscles as he carried and unloaded his burden. He turned back toward the garage and she followed him again, this time pausing to pluck a spade from its nail in the wall, forcing herself not to gaze at him further. She simply turned and went back into the yard and then waited at the spot where she would have him place the last plant.

To her surprise, he hit the switch to lower the garage door as he passed by it with his load. She heard it humming its way closed. He put the plant where she indicted and then smiled at her some more. He waited.

"Thank you," she said. She didn't know whether to try to pay him. She thought he was just being a good neighbor and didn't want to offend him. She wasn't sure how to dismiss him, so she simply donned her gloves, picked up her spade, and prepared to dig a hole for the first bush.

"No, please... Uh, please let me," he insisted, meeting her grateful, if somewhat dubious, gaze with his brilliant black eyes. He gently, but firmly, grasped the spade from her hand, brushing her fingers with his own in the process. (Was that deliberate?!) They stood there awhile looking into each other's eyes, each trying to figure the other out. She studied his handsome face, and he studied hers. Both of them liked what they were seeing. After a few provocative moments, though, she broke their shared gaze with her cutest, demurest smile and stepped back to let him work.

She wasn't sure she should allow it, but knew that she would have a hard time getting the hole deep enough by herself. She usually left these things to her husband, but she did not want to wait hours for his late-afternoon return. She wanted to get this job done. Besides, he would be tired from travelling, so it was definitely in his interest that she should take advantage of the offer of help. "OK," she said, cheerfully. "Thanks!" She was truly grateful, and, frankly, she was enjoying the little flirtation they seemed to have going. Why not? There's no harm flirting. It's not like her husband would object. He finds it strangely titillating when she flirts, so long as he doesn't feel threatened, and this kid was no threat, cute as he was.

The young man proceeded to dig with vigor. She watched him and gave some direction. She wanted the hole big enough for the pot to fit down in it. He readily understood her intent and worked on, carefully shaping just the right size hole in the ground. She stood there admiring his youthful body. She began to have questionable thoughts and was again mildly ashamed, if somewhat titillated as well. She reminded herself that there was no harm in looking, or even in a little fantasy.

In awhile the hole looked about right and she grasped his arm to stop him. She could simply have said "that's enough," but she chose to touch him, allowing herself to give those biceps of his a little feel. The muscle was hard and powerful. "That looks about right," she said, as she bent down to inspect the hole, reluctantly releasing his arm. As she leaned over, the loose neckline of her silky blouse fell away from her chest, and she knew it exposed a lot of her bra-clad left breast to his gaze. Feeling playful, she kept that position entirely too long just allow him a good look, then she glanced up unexpectedly to confirm whether he had in fact been looking. She was pleased to catch him gaping at her with a gleam in his eye. He averted his eyes just a bit too late, looking mildly embarrassed. She was somewhat surprised that such a young man (what was he, 18?) would be interested in an older woman's curves. She was somewhat gratified nevertheless. She liked being noticed by attractive men, and he was definitely good looking.

She stood erect now and moved over to the rosebush, her eyes fixed on his which seemed to sparkle at her. She gave him another quick smile, then bent down to the rosebush and attempted to shove it toward the hole. She deliberately revealed her chest to him as much as possible in the process. He gawked at her for a few moments, then dropped into a squat beside her and helped her push. They both hunched over the plant, side by side, and pushed it toward the hole. Working so closely together was exhilarating for both of them. As they labored side by side, he savored the pretty floral smell of her blonde-colored hair. She, in turn, noted the muskiness of a young man on a warm summer day. Or was there more? Could she be sensing pheromones? She knew men (boys?) his age were easily excited, and that thought piqued her interest. (Could I? Should I?) She shrugged these thoughts off and focused on the task at hand, guiding the pot as he lowered it into the hole. It fit perfectly. "Perfect!" she smiled up into his face. "Now we have to get it back out and remove the plastic pot," she declared, now simply assuming that he was hers to use until she was done with him.

He did not hesitate, but grasped the pot and lugged it out of the hole. He appeared to be eager to please. She had him lay the pot on its side and then slowly turn it on the ground while she tapped the sides with her gloved hands to loosen the soil. He could hardly keep his eyes off her chest as they worked, and she was amused, and possibly a bit gratified, to let him look. Once the soil was sufficiently loosened, she grasped the base of the plant stem with both hands. "See if you can pull the pot off," she told him, then she pulled one way and he the other until the plant came free. She loosened the soil around the roots, put some small stones and a little fertilizer into the soil at the bottom of the hole, then began to push the base of the plant back in. He assisted her again, and again their heads came close together. She thought she heard him inhale deeply, as if savoring the scent of her hair. It was an animalistic gesture from a young bull. She was not sure exactly what feelings she was now experiencing. She did know that she felt pretty good. Emboldened by the acceptance she demonstrated for his interest in her, he turned his face toward her deliberately now and audibly sniffed her hair. This forward act sent a pleasing chill down her neck and spine. She sensed that a few more close encounters and that giddy feeling in her spine would reach all the way to her womanhood! She definitely liked this unexpected flirtation they had going.

Once the plant was in the hole, they both stood up, side by side. She allowed herself to lean a little toward him and their hands touched briefly at their sides. She got a sophomoric little thrill from touching him and began to consider how else she might indulge this little dalliance. She would keep working and just seize the moments as they came, she decided.

She turned to him and said, "Well, if you are going to keep helping me, then you can dig another hole over there while I finish planting this one." She then squatted down and proceeded to put soil around the plant and fill the hole while he dug another hole about four feet away. She deliberately faced him as she worked, though she carefully kept her eyes on the ground. She made a point of exposing her chest to him and he found it difficult to dig without watching what he was doing. She could feel his eyes on her and struggled not to look up and bust him. She liked her exhibition as much as he, it seemed.

They proceeded in this way until all three plants were in the ground. When they were finished planting, she was suddenly afraid that it would now all end abruptly. She searched her mind for some idea of how to prolong the fun. She observed that his hands and arms were covered in soil. Her forearms were pretty dirty as well. That gave her an opening.

"Come on," she ordered him, as she unlocked the basement door and entered. He happily followed her into the basement and over to the sink where he watched her as she removed her gloves and proceeded to wash her arms. When she finished, she gestured for him to take his turn while she rummaged in the laundry cabinet for a towel. In doing so, she bent over at the waste and stretched her shorts tightly across her lovely bottom which was carefully pointed directly toward her helper. Gratefully, she could sense him looking at her. She rummaged a bit longer than was actually required, then she turned around rather abruptly, just in time to catch him averting his eyes. He had indeed been ogling her bottom! She smiled. He was so cute! And she was now thinking of escalating the situation, of testing to see how far it might go. She vaguely assumed that there would be safe limits, but she had no clear idea what those actually were. She did not want to think too much just then. She wanted to feel, to have fun.

She watched him wash as she dried her own hands, studying his musculature and his graceful movements. He finished washing and turned to face her, and she stepped toward him with the towel. He raised his now clean hands to grasp the towel from her, but she did not simply hand it over. Rather, she proceeded to dry his arms for him, slowly, gently, sensually. It thrilled her to touch him, to minister to him so intimately. He felt much the same as he stared at her face in wonder, but she kept her eyes on his arms and hands. She studied them, the youthful elasticity of the skin, the highly toned muscles, the long, elegant fingers—like a surgeon or a piano player. Now she was definitely fantasizing about him, making up good qualities, justifying her girlish interest in this kid!

When she had finally finished toweling him off, she set the towel aside and went to the nearby fridge. She opened it, bent over, and peered inside. She again deliberately showed her shapely butt to him. He studied her bottom and began to wonder quite explicitly what it would look like naked. He had never really seen a woman naked, only photographs. He wanted to experience the real thing. "Coke?" she asked without looking back at him. "Uh, sure," he replied, still gazing at her bottom and wondering. He longed to see what that very intriguing bottom looked like in the flesh and he desperately wanted to know the answer now. What was he going to do? He sensed that she was interested in him and she was clearly flirting with him, but was she just toying with him, or might she actually play around with him?

She pulled out two sodas, one diet and one regular, bumped the refrigerator door closed with her perky butt, then handed him the Coke, making sure that their fingers touched during the exchange. Again they shared a little thrill from the "inadvertent" contact.

She opened her soda and began to sip, her eyes fixed on his, saying nothing aloud, but saying a great deal with her now smoky gaze. Undeniably, she was getting turned on being alone and flirting with him. He felt much the same and studied her every movement and gesture intently, fascinated by her mature femininity and her natural, sexual charm. She was older and married, and no doubt was experienced in things sexual. She smiled at him again, sensing his growing excitement.

She was surprised at the effect she was having on him, and also at the effect his evident infatuation was having on her. Up until about an hour ago she would not have even considered the very naughty ideas that were now playing joyfully in her mind. She sensed that she could take advantage of him if she chose and she was indeed considering what precisely she would like to do with him. Several wanton ideas flitted through her mind. She pictured herself dropping to her knees and pleasuring him with her mouth. She envisioned dropping her pants and leaning over against the laundry cabinet, letting him do her from behind. She had by now concluded that she would like to have sex with him in some fashion, and wanted to test further to see if she was as much in charge of the situation as she thought.

Continuing to study his face, trying to discern his thoughts, she observed smudges of soil on his cheek. This was an opening, a way to test a little further before committing herself. Knowing she was sending somewhat mixed signals, she licked her thumb and wiped the smudges from his cheek, smiling affectionately all the while. The intimacy of the gesture affected him noticeably, his mouth dropped open slightly, his eyes closed, his breathing became shallow, tense. He had a smoldering fire in his belly and she was fanning the flames. She smiled inwardly at the effect she'd had on him. He stood there, tensely watching her, anxiously waiting to see what she would do next.

She did not make him wait long. She fixed his eyes with her own. Her heightened passion was now clearly evident in her frank gaze. She decided to be bolder still in pursuit of some kind of consummation of their mutual infatuation. She raised her right hand and placed it against his chest, admiring the cleavage between the firm pectoral muscles beneath his shirt. She moved her hand slowly across his chest to his shoulder and grasped the bulging deltoid, then slowly slid her hand down his arm to take his hand into hers gently, tenderly. She squeezed his hand lightly and said, rather coquettishly, "Thanks again for all the help. I could not have gotten those roses into the ground without you." Her voice was soft, low, seductive.

"I am glad I could help," he said somewhat nervously, his voice coming from deep in the back of his throat, almost cracking. She smiled and ran her hand up and down his arm a few times as if contemplating her next move. If she was right, this fondling should have him pretty much primed for sex by now. She dropped her eyes from his and openly checked below his waist to see if she was really having the effect she thought she was having on him. She could see his penis formed a distinct tent shape in the loose shorts he wore. He was definitely primed. He was hers to take if she chose.

She turned back up to face him, looked deeply into his eyes, then stretched up onto her tip toes to give him a soft peck on the cheek. "Thanks again," she breathed into his ear. He uttered a slight gasp at the gesture and she decided it was time to be direct.

"How old are you?" she whispered. It was a pointed question and he knew it.

"Eighteen," he whispered back.

Bingo. She probably should have checked his ID before pushing ahead, but she was losing perspective a little and simply pressed on, sufficiently reassured. "You like older women, don't you?" She paused to let him consider, then continued, "You like me, don't you?"

Now he was embarrassed. His cheeks reddened, but he did not flinch. She could feel the heat of his cheek on her own. He nodded slightly.

She continued to push him. "Have you ever made love?" she whispered.

Now he was getting a bit scared, not being sure he'd know what to do if the opportunity was actually coming his way in the person of this beautiful, mature, knowing woman. "Uh uh," was all he could manage.

She placed one hand on his taught stomach, the other on the back of his head, and pushed her lips against his. He stiffened his posture still further, then, unwilling to risk missing her offer, took the plunge. He slipped his arms around her waist and kissed her back. His lips were hot, his embrace powerful. She was getting hot now, too hot to reign herself in. Her desire drove her to bold action. She let her hand slide down his abdomen to the front of his shorts, to the object of her now keen desire, and she pressed his bulge with her palm. It was large and hard and ready to be used for her pleasure. She kissed him still more deeply, and slipped her tongue between his lips. He reacted as expected, kissing her back still more passionately and pressing his hungry penis back against her palm. She raised her hand to his waistband, slipped it down into his shorts, and grasped his hard, slippery shaft firmly and stroked it a few times. She was thrilled at how large and hard it was. He nearly spent himself in his pants.

She stopped kissing and stroking him, and squeezed his cock all the tighter to keep him from premature ejaculation. She looked up into his eyes. "I think you want to make love to me," she declared huskily.

He stared back into her eyes, unsure what to say or do. Finally, he managed to breathe out an answer. "Uh huh."

She removed her hand from his pants, slipped her arms around him, and pulled their bodies tightly together, her head pressing into his muscular shoulder. She raised her face up toward him and began to kiss him more, her mouth wide open; and then she pressed herself hard against him, feeling his bulge against her soft belly. He began to rub himself against her and again he almost lost control, nearly spewing his load into his pants. She did not want his orgasm wasted. She did not want him to cum in his pants. She wanted him to cum in her. It was time.

She stopped hugging him, turned away, and closed and locked the basement door. She came back to him and took his hand and said, "OK. Come on," and started toward the stairs.

He was afraid and stammered, "B- b- but, y- your husband?"

She paused and looked up into his eyes reassuringly. "Trust me. He won't mind. And he is on an airplane at this time anyway. We have plenty of time." Then she grasped his hand again and led him upstairs.

When they emerged into the main floor of the house, she pointed up the stairs and he ascended without a word. She followed him, studying the motion of his buns under his silky shorts, wanting to squeeze them and pull his hard body against her own. "On the left," she said when he reached the top of the stairs. He went into the bedroom, as directed, then stood there at the foot of the bed, waiting to be told what to do.