**I have been reading stories on this site for several years but this is the first time I have ever written one. The stories that turn me on the most are the ones that are true, or at least written as true. I decided that if I were going to write one I would only write about my real experiences. So what follows is my first account of something that happened to me about 5 years ago when I was living in Florida. The only thing that has been changed about this story are the names.
I moved to Florida for a new job in 2001. I was 27. The town I was living in was a small town and there weren't many young single people. After awhile I was getting pretty sexually frustrated and had resorted to more jerking off than I ever had before. I'm a pretty good looking guy, about 6' tall, 170 lbs with brown hair and bedroom blue eyes.
I had moved into one of those master planned communities, you know where all the houses look exactly the same and are lined up like sardines. Most of my neighbors were older retired people and I knew most of them but didn't socialize with them beyond a wave if I saw them.
One day after about a year living there, there was a knock on my door around 6pm, after I had gotten home from work. I opened it to find Cheryl, a neighbor of mine that I had met several times when I had been out jogging. She looked somewhat distraught. She asked if my father was around. My parents had come to visit me twice during the previous year and Cheryl had met them several times and gone to dinner with them one night with her husband.
I was a bit puzzled by her question and told her that no, they were back in Connecticut. "Oh", she said with a disappointed look.
"Is something wrong?" I asked. Bad question. She immediately starting rambling about her husband who had died a month before (I had not known). Then she said that her only son, who lived in Tampa with his new wife and baby, had been mugged and murdered the previous week. I was shocked to say the least. As I said, I didn't interact with my neighbors much so I knew none of this. By the time she got through what she had been through over the last month, losing her husband and only son, she was crying.
I felt bad standing there in the doorway, with her outside in the 90 degree heat so I put my arm around her shoulder and guided her inside. Apparently, she wanted to talk to my father, who was a lawyer, about the various estate matters that she was now faced with and that were just too difficult for her to deal with in her current emotional state.
Now, before I go any further, I have to say that I hadn't intended anything sexual when I invited her in. Cheryl is not an ugly woman. She had just turned 50 and had aged well. She had dirty blond hair, shoulder length, and was about 5'4". She was a bit over-weight, maybe 150 lbs, but wore it very well. Which is to say, she has VERY large breasts. I had noticed that when I met her months before. Regardless of what she wore, they were difficult to hide. I guessed her bra size must have been 38 DD or maybe even E. she was actually one of the younger women in the development.
Being from the northeast, the Florida heat was a killer for me and I always had the AC on very high. My home felt like an ice-box and I offered Cheryl a drink. She accepted a glass of white wine. She was wearing a pair of white shorts and a green v-neck t-shirt against which her ample breasts were beautifully framed. The AC had made her nipples hard and they showed through the shirt nicely. As we sat in the living room I began to get more and more distracted by those glorious tits as she rambled on about her son and what her daughter-in-law and grand-daughter were going to do now that he was gone.
I know this sounds horrible so far but I hope you read the rest to know that I'm not a bad guy.
