Rachel Comeau turned the shower off and stepped out of the tub. Water dripped from her auburn hair and ran down her tanned body in tiny, diamond-like beads. She wiggled her toes and wiped her feet on the blue shag bath mat. Rachel sighed. It had been humid and overcast for a few days. Having a shower did not seem to cool her off like she had hoped. What she wanted was for it to rain hard. Steam hung in the air and coated the bathroom mirror. Turning to her left, Rachel opened a small window beside the toilet. The pink lace curtains moved slightly as a faint breeze entered the bathroom, drawing the steam out. The fresh air teased Rachel's nipples. They began to tingle and stiffen. She smiled, enjoying the sensation of the air caressing her naked body. She found it arousing and a welcome change from the oppressive heat of recently.
From the bathroom window Rachel looked across her narrow yard to her neighbours' small two-story green house, separated from her property by a waist-high hedge. Rachel considered wrapping herself in one of the terrycloth bath sheets that hung over the shower rod, then decided against it. It was too hot. Besides, she enjoyed the air on her bare, wet skin. She knew that anyone looking up at her bathroom window would easily be able to see her breasts, but she did not care. Actually, it was more than just not caring. The thought of someone seeing her topless, with her copper-colored nipples hard and thick, made her clit begin to swell. Her pussy began to moisten.
Rachel reached down and pressed her index finger to her pink pearl, then stroked her wet lips. She looked over to the house next to hers. There was a picture window and another small one beside that downstairs facing her house. Upstairs, there were two windows covered by curtains, probably bedrooms. Anyone watching from them would be able to see her. Rachel smiled and brushed her fingers over her left nipple, searching for signs of life next door.
Rachel knew her neighbours fairly well. Kevin and Sara McNevin had lived next to her for just over seven years. Their son, Dean, was best friends with her own son, Eric. Both of them were about to celebrate their nineteenth birthdays soon within a month of each other. She wondered what Kevin or Dean would think if they could see her at that moment. Then she recalled the times she had caught their eyes roaming over her. It was usually when she wore shorts while gardening, or a top that revealed her cleavage when she leaned over. Neither of them had ever said or done anything that was inappropriate or disrespectful, but she could tell they wanted to. The hungry look in their blue eyes and the bulges in their trousers belied their polite exteriors.
A rush of wantonness grew within Rachel as she thought about Kevin and Dean leering at her. She remembered an incident a week previous when she was crouched over her flower garden wearing a tank top and shorts. Dean had come over to see if Eric was home. Rachel could feel her breasts sway inside her bra as she tilled the soil and pulled weeds. She knew that Dean would be able to see down the front of her tank top as he stood over her, less than a yard away. It thrilled her and made her wet. When she looked up she immediately noticed the bulge in Dean's tight jeans. Lewd thoughts of tugging his zipper down and taking his hard cock deep in her mouth flooded her mind.
Rachel smiled as she continued to stroke her slick pussy and rub her hard clit, still looking out the bathroom window. Her musky juice coated her fingers. They slipped inside her tight hole with ease. First one, then another -- filling and stretching her. A series of moans escaped her mouth. She felt an orgasm building within her. She had been masturbating a lot recently. Finally, her libido had returned to normal for the first time since The Accident, she thought.
The Accident. Just the thought of it made Rachel as dry as a desert. She sighed and pulled her fingers away from her pussy. She wiped them off on a towel hanging above the toilet. It had been seventeen months and twenty-three days since The Accident, which had claimed the life of her husband, Brad. Friends had told her that within a year her life would take on a new normalcy, but it was taking longer. Rachel knew that were it not for the love and support of her son she might never recover from losing Brad. In fact, she may have done something in order to join him -- wherever he was now.
Brad was an electrical engineer. He had gone to inspect an office building under construction that afternoon seventeen months ago. Whoever assembled the scaffolding used to reach the wiring for the ceiling fixtures had done a piss-poor job. Brad and the foreman overseeing the work site, Charlie Peterkin, were looking at blueprints spread out on a sheet of plywood lying on sawhorses beside the scaffolding. No one heard it creak and groan at first, until it began to collapse with a sound like a train wreck. Steel, plywood, tools and bales of wire rained down on Brad and Charlie. Charlie was fortunate; he escaped with a broken leg and fractured ribs. Brad was dead before anyone called 911.
Without her husband, Rachel was lost. Adrift. She was not yet forty and already a widow with a teenage son to raise. This was not supposed to have happened; not to someone so young. She had known Brad all her life, or at least it seemed so. They had met when she was sixteen and soon began dating. Within a year she was pregnant. Before she was twenty she was married. Rachel had never known another man or another kind of life. She did not know how to rebuild her life at first. If there was any bit of hope for her to cling to it was that Brad had a sizable life insurance policy and the company constructing the building reached an out-of-court settlement with her before she filed a wrongful death lawsuit. She would never have to worry about money and Eric's college expenses would never be a concern. Still, nothing could replace the loving husband and father they had lost.
Rachel's morose thoughts were interrupted by the sudden din of music coming from her son's room next to the bathroom. She had not heard Eric come home. He must have returned from his afternoon classes while she was masturbating, she concluded. She felt somewhat embarrassed at the thought of him perhaps hearing her soft cries of pleasure through the adjoining wall earlier, then the corners of her rosy lips curled up. Her clit jumped once more and her juice began to flow. She felt bold and shameless, thinking about her teenage son hearing her moan as she buried her fingers in her tight, juicy pussy.
She resisted the urge to touch herself. Instead, she reached for one of the towels hanging over the tub. She wrapped it tight around her damp body. The soft terrycloth felt good rubbing over her sensitive nipples and soft skin. The sensations made her clit throb even more and her pussy become wetter. Rachel opened the bathroom door went towards her son's room. His door was open.
"Eric... Eric, could you turn that music down, please?" she called out.
Eric looked up from his computer monitor with a puzzled look. He turned his CD player off. "What?" he asked.
"The music... it sounded like Studio 54 in here," his mother said.
"Studio what?" he asked.
"Never mind. You're too young." Rachel chuckled as she shook her head, feeling ancient.
"Are you done in the bathroom?" he asked.
"Yes, it's all yours," she told him.
Eric got up from his computer desk. He walked past his mother on his way to the bathroom. Rachel was leaning against the door frame, arms crossed at her waist. Her son had only pushed the bathroom door ajar and she could hear the steady stream hitting the water in the bowl. She imagined him standing there, holding his cock in his hand. She wondered if he was as thick as his father was. Eric was certainly as handsome as Brad was. He resembled Brad in many ways: black hair, blue eyes and a muscular frame that reached nearly six feet, so it was likely that he was hung like him as well. He was circumcised, she knew that much. But he was an adult now -- fully grown. She squeezed her left breast through the towel, rubbing the soft material over her engorged nipple as she thought about Eric's shaft in her rather than her fingers. Above the towel she could see a few inches of deep cleavage and a hint of her firm breasts. She tugged the towel tighter around her, securing it, but did not pull it higher.
"How were your classes?" she asked Eric when he returned.
"Good. I had math and chemistry. I'm good in those, so it was an easy afternoon."
"You're too modest. You're good in everything," she replied with a proud smile.
Eric smiled at his mother as he sat back down at his computer desk. "Thanks, Mom."
