My Neighbor

My Neighbor

By: Bikerider

She walked past my window, her skin wet and slick, my eyes following the movement beneath her short-shorts as she walked. Turning, she came by again, continuing the show, before going by the other way again. Sweat sucked her white T-shirt against her skin, the transparent material exposing blueberry-sized brown nipples jiggling as she walked. Back and forth; her blond ponytail bobbing against her neck.

I loved watching my young neighbor cut her lawn.

The young couple bought the house next door six months ago. I hadn't met her husband, he was away a lot, but Samantha and I talked on occasion. Mesmerized by her tall, slender body and movie star looks, I'd weave fantasies about us as I watched from my kitchen window as she washed the car, worked in her garden, or stretched out in the sun wearing a tiny bikini. She caught me staring many times, but only smiled. Being much older than her I could only wish.



Two weeks ago, Samantha and I talked over the backyard fence. My eyes followed the drops of sweat dripping between her breasts, her pebbled nipples pressing against the thin fabric of her bikini top. I asked about her husband's frequent absences.

"He travels on business often," she frowned, "sometimes for a week, sometimes longer."

I exaggerated a wink and joked, "If there's anything I can do for you while he's away, just call. I'm right next door." I smiled broadly.

Her eyes focused deeply into mine, tightening my stomach. "I hope you mean that," she smiled coyly. "Sometimes I need things done while he's away...things around the house. Occasionally my hinges need oiling, sometimes my plumbing needs attention."

"Ah, my specialties." I cleared my throat, "I'd be happy to attend to those problems for you."

Without taking her eyes from mine she said, "Great!" She turned and slowly walked away, my gaze focused on the movement of her firm butt cheeks dancing under her bikini bottom.

Two weeks later I answered my ringing phone and recognized Samantha's voice.



"Hi Joe," she said softly. "Greg won't be home for several more days and I need something. Can you come over and help me?"

"Sure, when?"

"Right away, if you can."

"I'll just jump into the shower and come right over."

"I'll be waiting," she said. "And Joe, remember to bring your tool."

Heated blood pulsed in my ears, "I won't forget." Biting my lip, I wondered if I was getting it all wrong.



"Come on in," she shouted after I knocked on her door. "It's open."

She stood in the living room, her lace bra barely covering her smooth breasts, her white cotton panties highlighting every fold and crevice beneath them. My spine tingled, my groin stirred.

"You...ah, look great," my voice caught. Her taut stomach quivered, and a smile dimpled her cheeks.

"I thought you'd like this," she said.

I cleared my throat, "What do you need fixed?" My eyes lowered to her cotton panties.

"Whatever you can fix with the tool you brought." She turned and walked into her bedroom.



The white sheets accentuated her tanned skin, her bra and panties lay on the floor next to the bed. Her hand covered her mound, a finger disappearing into her. The hot wind of lust blew over me.

I picked up her panties and brought them to my nose. Gazing over the thin material I said, "You have no idea how many times I fantasized about this."

"So why are you just standing there?" she purred.



Her center was wet and warm, and ready. Her engorged clit felt silky as I slid my tongue slowly up and down its sensitive edge. Her stomach quivered and quaked, her back arched above the sheets as her excitement flooded from her, slicking my lips and chin.

Samantha settled back against the sheets, her breathing raspy and deep. She looked down between the swell of her breasts, her eyes glistening like two blue gas flames. "Please, Joe, come up here, I can't wait any longer."

Hovering over her, I probed for her entrance with my finger, and then inserted my rigid girth into her and felt her warmth envelope me.

"Oh," was all she said as I pushed through her resistance.

Her gasps kept time with my thrusts, as I slowly, then quickly, stroked against her, her body wreathing below me.

Liquid heat flowed over my shaft as she pleaded between gasps, "Please. Joe. Don't. Stop." Her encouragement drove me, tightening the coil of excitement in my stomach. My thrusts became more insistent.

The heat began deep inside of me, then flowed like lava, seeking release. With one last steady thrust I embedded myself deep inside her core, my heat pulsing and filling her, her gasps brushing against my ear.



We lay on the damp, wrinkled sheets, my head propped on an elbow, drawing random patterns on her sweaty breasts.

"What would Greg think?" I asked.

Samantha pointed to a small, blinking red light between the slats of her closet door. "I'll let you know."



843