I used to sit at the window on the second floor of my house and watch her cut the grass. She liked to wear white or cream colored shorts and t-shirts. Even in late April and early May when she didn’t have a good tan her bronze skin glowed. She had dark blonde hair that she kept short and neat.
She was small—just over five feet tall. But she didn’t have the squatty little body that some short women have. She had nice legs and a tiny waist that made her ass even more attractive.
I grew bolder as time went on. I paid more attention to when her twin preschool daughters were in the front yard. That’s when I would find yard work to do and wait for Mom to appear. I was rarely disappointed.
The year the girls got their first bikes was a bonanza. Almost every evening or weekend afternoon for a month the woman would walk behind one of the girls as the little ones learned to ride. They would pass my house on the sidewalk and I’d casually look up from my work to watch them come and go. Well, I’d watch Mom come and go anyway.
That’s when I first realized the pure beauty of her body. Although she never wore skintight shirts, it was evident she had firm breasts. And that ass. No matter what she wore she could not hide that wonderful ass.
We never talked and rarely made eye contact. Apparently the attraction was not mutual. That was OK with me. My shyness wouldn’t have allowed me to actually hold an extended conversation with her anyway.
We had nothing to discuss. She was my neighbor from two doors down. All I wanted was her body. What was there to talk about?
It was the first week of June. The sign in front of the preschool told me the kids would be out in another week. I had to do it now.
The kids were gone Monday, Wednesday and Friday mornings. I decided to shoot for Monday knowing I had the remainder of the week if I never got the opportunity that day.
I had the stuff ready: ski mask and tape. I put them on the kitchen table and headed upstairs. I sat at the window and waited, my cock pressing against the inside of my shorts. Not having boxers on only intensified my excitement.
It was very late in the morning when I first saw her. She had on the usual white shorts, but today wore a dark pink t-shirt. My heart raced with the anticipation of seeing the clothes on the floor next to her amazing body.
Her garage door was open. That was the first requirement for this to work. Having her in the back yard was the next. Preferably mowing the grass.
My head was spinning by the time I heard the sound of the mower. Where was she? I stared at her back yard as if to make it answer me. Then I saw her, walking behind the mower from the house toward the back fence.
My hands were sweaty as I ran down the stairs and stuffed the mask and tape into my back pockets. I stood there and took two deep breaths. I thought about my plan: in the garage; through the door into the house; stay low; watch her; determine where she would enter the house; get her.
Before I left I grabbed two copies of the local community newspaper that was delivered free to the door each week. I walked out through my garage and into the lawn of the house next door. I rolled up one of the newspapers and threw it on the porch, then continued walking toward my destination.
The sound of her mower grew louder as I passed from one lawn to the next. Then it got fainter as the house separated me from her. I threw the second newspaper on her porch. Without missing a step I strode into her garage and approached the storm door leading into the house.
I could still hear the mower, so I opened the storm door and stuck my head inside, pushing open the large wood door inside the house. Nothing. I crept in and entered the kitchen, kneeling well below the level of the counters. The back door was closed and I crawled over to it, eventually standing in the area between the door and the counter, flat against the wall.
I leaned out and peered into the back yard. She was about half done with the grass. I looked around and found three different ways to escape in a hurry if I had to. Then I waited.
It took less than ten minutes for her to finish the yard. I watched from the door as she made the last trip from the back fence to the house. I heard her bring the mower along the back of the house and around to the side. Then the sound of the mower died.
She was taking it into the garage, I thought. I crouched again and rushed to hide behind the wood door. I squeezed behind it and pulled the ski mask out of my back pocket. I listened to the sound of the mower being pushed into place and a shuffling of feet.
I could practically hear my heart pounding against my chest. I would have one chance at this. It HAD to work.
The feet got closer and the storm door creaked open. She took two steps before I could see the back of her head. I leaped forward and threw the mask over her head, the eyes and mouth looking blankly back at me.
She began to scream one time before I could push her against the sink, knock the breath out of her and get my hand to her mouth. I pressed firmly against her body with mine.
“Do not…make…a…sound,” I said with authority.
She froze. We were both breathing hard and for the first time I concentrated on the sensation of her body in contact with mine. My cock began to throb, pressed to her ass so tightly a hand couldn’t get between us.
I held her arms behind her back now, waiting for the initial rush to subside.
“If you fight you will get hurt. Very badly. Understand?”
She nodded and panted, trying to catch her breath. I used her arms to turn her away from the sink and toward the dining room and hall.
“I’m heading for the hallway. Lead us to your bedroom,” I said.
I pushed her in that direction and we walked past the table and china cabinet. When we got to the hall she leaned to the left. The first door on the right was a den. The second door on that side appeared to lead to a large bedroom.
“On the right?” I asked.
She nodded. We entered the master bedroom and I pushed my victim toward the king size bed. I was relieved to see that the drapes were pulled shut on both windows and that I could proceed with freedom of movement. The next thing I looked for made me even happier. The bed’s headboard had wooden posts at about eighteen inch intervals from one end to the other. It couldn’t have been more perfect.
“Get on the bed.”
We crawled onto the bed in unison, my grip on her arms never letting up. We were on our knees facing the side of the bed when I turned her around abruptly to face the headboard.