It was the kind of neighborhood in Pleasantville. White picket fences, friendly neighbors, pretty white two story houses...that was until I moved in the neighborhood I guess. I don't know, I think I say that because of what happened that summer. It was hot and of course I was dead set on planting flowers that day. I should have checked the weather map but I did not. Saturday came and it was pushing 95 degrees.
I was one of the younger women in town, almost twenty. It was obvious after about a week or so of living there, the nice neighborhood of Santa Monica. That day I had chosen to wear my short blue Jean shorts that were really made of felt material, with the appearance of jeans and a pink short sleeved shirt. I decided to be barefoot since I really didn't care if my feet got dirty. That's what soap and water was for.
I got all my flowers out of the garage where I had stored them when I got them the day before, and placed them on the dirt of the flowerbed where I would later plant them.
"Hello there..." Came a pleasant male voice behind me.
Looking up I saw a man who couldn't have been more than fifty. He was considerably taller than I but that was because I was still on my knees and he on his feet. He had blonde hair going grey at the temples and light brown eyes. He had sharp black glasses and wore jeans and a polo shirt as well as a kind smile as he continued to look down at me waiting for a reply. All I was thinking was 'How the fuck are you wearing jeans in this heat?'
Getting up I smiled, stuck out my hand and said hello.
Shaking it he said "I couldn't help but wonder why I haven't seen you in the area lately. Are you new here?"
"Yes I just moved from Washington state about a week or so ago."
"Why did you move?"
"I wanted a change in the weather."
"Ah."
I paused. Should I tell him the other reason? That I had to escape the place that had too many memories? Too many painful ones? No, I decided. I'd leave that out. But it slipped off my tongue anyways.
"My father died a few years ago. I tried for these three years to be strong but it seemed like everywhere I went he was with me."
"I understand. I'm very sorry," And with his words he gave a sympathetic look. There was something else.
Was this man checking her out? No he couldn't be...
"Well I hope to have a sort of fresh start here."
"I'm sure you'll love it. The people here are quite cordial," he stated, pushing up his glasses. His eyes narrowed as he spoke, a gleam in his eye visible. It was interesting because I felt I imagined it.
"I'm sorry," the stranger spoke. "I think I missed your name my dear."
"Kimberly Olsen. And you?"
"Karl Ricardo, it's a pleasure."
"Likewise."
He smiled and said he needed to be getting back to business he was doing inside and walked off towards his house next door.
"Karl?" I called. He turned.
"Your my neighbor?"
He grinned and nodded. "I believe so!"
And he disappeared inside through his garage. Karl's house matched the appearance of mine. Two stories, garage, walkway lined with flowers.
It was going to be nice here.
.....................
With a thoughtful expression, I looked out my living room window. Did she know how lovely those legs were, so long and tan? I knew how dark and rainy it could be in Washington so I wasn't sure how she managed such a lovely tan. But she had it. Not only did she have that, but she had a sort of secretly sensual air about her. Shy about her sex life but could be wild in bed when the moment announced itself. I wanted to see for myself and make the sensual moment announce itself at my command. She couldn't be more than twenty-three. I in my mid forties as a single man kept myself busy with my friends, interests and job. But my sex life had been lacking in the last six months or so. I don't want it to appear women weren't attracted to me sexually, I just hadn't had the opportunity to meet anyone to go home with recently.
This was my perfect opportunity and I would be damned if I let it pass me by. This Olsen woman had curves to die for, smaller breasts Id just love to suck on. I licked my lips. She was probably a virgin but you sometimes can't tell.
Rubbing my chin in a very thoughtful manner, I looked her up and down as she dug in the dirt with the spade, on her knees; cute ass in the air. I felt my cock harden at the sexual thoughts, my fantasies I wanted to fulfill with her. I wanted to fill her with my dick and make her scream in this quiet neighborhood. Make that pretty girl my bitch. Even if it was for a night. I was going to do it.
.....................
There was a knock on the door later that afternoon as I was relaxing watching tv. I had just gotten out of the shower, wet hair and all. I had dried my body, drying my legs with extra tender love and care and drying the folds of my pussy. Wiping the water from my arms I had let the towel fall, walking to my bureau naked. I was going to pick out my black lace thong that was my favorite, and a black push-up but the doorbell rang. Slipping on the first clothes I saw I half ran to the door. In the end I ended up wearing my shortest shorts and black skirt so short you could almost see my pussy.
Hey don't judge. I had been trying clothes on yesterday trying on different outfits. In the end in this situation, I had neither thong or bra on.
I opened the door and there was Karl, my kind neighbor. His jaw dropped and his eyes widened. Oh Hell, why did it have to be him!
Clearing his throat, his eyes wandering my body, I blushed.
"Yes?" I asked, half hidden by the door.
"I..." He finally got his bearings and looked me in the eye. There I could see lust. He wanted me! It was creepy as fuck but a little bit of a turn on I had to admit. Only because I knew I was attractive at all.
"I wanted to know if I could borrow a cup of sugar and some Bakers chocolate if you had any." His voice was staggering.
I couldn't help but giggle. He glanced at me, curious and I awkwardly coughed.
"Come in, come in."
"Thank you very much."
I let Karl in and began walking towards the kitchen when I felt his hands cover my mouth forcibly. His body was pressed against my back. We were in the middle of the entry way, not far from the front door that he had silently closed.