Good Neighbors Ch. 08

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Good Neighbors, Ch 8

Lena Takes Two for the Team

Lena here. I shouldn’t be writing this little entry in my friends’ and neighbors’ chronicle of their goings on. I should be visiting grandchildren or knitting a sweater or cultivating my roses. Instead, I’ve gotten just a little giddy over my neighbors’ hot young sons and our shenanigans.

My adventures with Preston and Marty yesterday brought my mourning period to a complete and abrupt end. When I was finished with them (Or perhaps it was when they were finished with me!) I felt I was up for any challenge in the world. Now, after eighteen hours to calm down and to reconsider, I was having second thoughts. What if Jeff and Benjamin couldn’t be convinced their mothers were desirable sexual creatures who deserved large, healthy doses of male attention? What if Jeff and Benjamin could only see me as a kindly old neighbor they had known for years or worse, a mournful old widow-lady who deserved only their pity? After all, I’d been widowed five times now and most of the neighborhood delighted in calling me ‘The Black Widow’ behind my back.

The fact that I was black, my last name was Black, and I was a widow several times over didn’t take away any of the sting though. I’m sure if the neighborhood had also known three of my five husbands had died from heart attacks (two of them died in bed with me — one of them while he was both on top and inside me) they would have all gotten an even bigger (and, I think sicker) hoot out of my five losses. I straightened my posture and reminded myself I was not the Black Widow. I was the Silver Fox.

As apprehensive as I was, I still felt a thrill coursing through my entire body as I anticipated the ring on my doorbell. My hands were shaking a little and I fretted that I might have miscalculated with my choice of outfits. I had spent almost exactly one year in mourning but if all that I’d done yesterday proved anything, it proved that I was no longer in mourning. For my lunch with Jeff and Benjamin I had chosen a bright yellow sundress from the back of my closet, some kicky little high-heeled sandals and a simple, matching yellow thong. My dress was a halter-top that tied at my neck with thin cords. I know you must be wondering what a fifty-eight-year-old woman is doing dressed in a short and revealing halter-top dress to have lunch with two young men who were only slightly older than my own grandchildren, but I wanted to make a statement. I didn’t want to be “The Black Widow” any longer. I wanted to be “The Silver Fox.” As I dressed earlier, I spent a long time admiring the way that slender arc of neatly trimmed silver-white pubic hair on my belly peeked out impishly just above the bright lemon yellow of my thong. Marty was so talented when it came to such things. He had known exactly what my pussy needed to look its most arresting. I could have stopped traffic in this thong. I certainly intended to put a strain on the crotch of Jeff and Benjamin’s trousers when I offered them a glimpse of it in a few minutes.

Jeff and Benjamin were both good young men. I’d known them for most of their lives and Abbie and Liz had done a great job raising them. I even felt I had had a hand in raising them. They had always done little chores for me and mowed my grass from time to time. Together they had even removed the stump from a damned old cherry tree that sat squarely and defiantly in the middle of my backyard through all the years of my past two marriages. Together Jeff and Benjamin had removed it and even filled in the hole after both my third and fourth husbands had long since surrendered to the stump and left me still complaining about it. I had watched the two of them work as a team on that old stump and, remembering their teamwork then had given me the idea for how to approach the seemingly impossible challenge Liz and Abbie had dumped in my lap.

The doorbell rang then, and I took one last look at my appearance in the hallway mirror. I giddily decided I didn’t look at all like a widow anymore and opened the door.

“Jeff, Benjamin! — I’m glad you could make it! It’s been a such long time since we’ve talked or even said ‘Hi’ to one another! I’ve missed you!” I told the pair standing on my doorstep. I was smiling. Jeff and Benjamin were both standing with their mouths open.

I gave them a moment. I’m sure they were expecting to be greeted by the same old sad-looking drudge in a doo rag, flip-flops and sweats they’d seen out getting her mail from time to time. I’m sure their image of me was as an old haggish grandma who never smiled or so much as waved to them. Instead, I was dressed as smartly as I could manage on such short notice, my hair was carefully done up and my makeup was done to perfection. I had even applied a bit of what I thought of as my secret weapon: my favorite perfume. It was a heady, but exquisitely subtle fragrance that never failed to soften the tensions and sharp edges of every male I’d ever encountered. If any of my past three husbands had been şişli escort living and here today, they would have enthusiastically agreed.. I didn’t wear this scent often, but when I did, I got results. I planned to get results today.

Both young men stepped into the foyer. I closed the door softly behind them and while still in motion I could hear them inhale softly, deeply of my scent. By the time I could circle around to face them once more, they were each wearing the most blissful smiles you could imagine. I smiled. A subtle, enticing scent enveloping a woman can have that effect on virile young men.

There was small talk then. Mostly, I asked them questions, they gave me answers and did their best not to ogle me. I took this all as an encouraging sign that I could still command young men’s attention, even at my age. I led the way to my living room, walking slowly, gracefully and inviting them to follow the sway of my hips the entire way.

I hope you don’t think less of me for behaving this way. I truly am not a tease and I normally wouldn’t even consider inviting young men of an age to be my grandsons to stare at my ass, but I must tell you that I felt more alive in that moment with their young eyes riveted on my swaying hips than you could possibly imagine. It had been such a long time since I had felt the need for a man’s attention and now that I was getting it, I felt like a queen holding court.

I guided them to seats on the couch, then sat slowly in my favorite armchair across from them. I thought their eyes would pop out of their heads as they watched me struggle to sit, cross my legs and keep my skirt from rising too high all at the same time. I must have managed it all pretty well because neither fellow gasped at catching a glimpse of my bright yellow thong.

“I hope you boys brought your appetites because I fixed something I know you both like,” I announced when I had the hem of my dress safely under control. “Do you remember that sloppy-joe noodle casserole I fixed when you were struggling to tear out that dratted cherry tree stump?”

Their faces lit up at this and I wasn’t sure if it was the thought of my casserole or the memory of conquering that damn stump making them smile. I took their smiles as a good sign, either way.

“Yeah! I sure do,” Jeff called out, “I haven’t thought about that for ages!”

Benjamin nodded in agreement.

Our conversation seemed to warm up once these two discovered there would be food involved. Still, they were eyeing me closely and I was certain they found the sight of me dressed so provocatively more than a little interesting. I didn’t look at all like their grandma or the kindly old neighbor-lady from across the street.

“There’s something different about you, Mrs. Black,” Benjamin noted, still eyeing me as I sat across from them with my legs carefully crossed.

I wanted to ask him if it was my sweet little thong but held my tongue. I was pretty certain he hadn’t seen that little surprise yet.

We chatted for a few more minutes. They brought me up to date on their plans for the summer and their excitement about college in the fall. Both boys shared so much in common but when it came to their dormitory arrangement, they both seemed to come to a sharp point of hesitation. It would have seemed logical to me for these two young men who shared so much in common to share a room as well.

“Well, we originally planned to be roommates this Fall. We even had our dorm picked out and planned to go through freshman orientation together . . . But lately I’ve been having second thoughts,” Jeff told me.

Benjamin looked from me to Jeff in surprise and said, “Really! . . . I-I’ve been thinking the same thing lately. I’ve been thinking that it might be good for me to kind of break out on my own. I was even thinking about getting a single room and not having a roommate.”

Benjamin and Jeff looked at one another in amazement.

“You know — that’s not a half-bad idea. I hadn’t thought about not having a roommate before, but now that you mention it, a single room might just be a good thing,” Jeff replied.

“You boys surprise me. I expected you had already arranged to be roommates for the whole four years of college, as close as you are to one another!” I chimed in. Then I added with a glint in my eye, “Unless you two have girlfriends you plan on entertaining into the wee hours of the night!”

Jeff and Benjamin both visibly straightened at my suggestion. Their faces whitened too. Apparently, both young men harbored plans to keep one another’s mothers commuting forty minutes to and from State College on a regular and frequent basis. For a brief moment it occurred to me that I could save the four of them untold amounts of gasoline, wear and tear on two cars instead of one and save all concerned hours of time that could be better spent spooning and showering and eating together if I could just manage to bring their whole tangled web of oversexed moms and sons out into the open and let them mecidiyeköy escort deal with their doubts and insecurities.

I was puzzling over all this when I suddenly recalled Marty, Preston and Eddie and the part they might play in all of this tangled web of hidden truths and half-lies. What were Liz and Abbie planning to do about them? I didn’t need an engineering degree to know that two middle-aged, attractive women wouldn’t stand a chance when faced with the combined sexual force of all five young men. Liz and Abbie might try to provide comfort and aid to five healthy young studs, but they could well find themselves on the way to the old folks’ home in six months if they tried. I remembered every little thing Marty and Preston had done to me yesterday afternoon, got goosebumps up and down my arms and shoulders and shivered softly.

Both boys noticed my distress. “Are you alright, Mrs. Black?” they both asked, almost in unison.

“W-w-well I’m fine. I just got a little chill remembering yesterday afternoon,” I answered.

“What happened yesterday afternoon?” one of them asked. He sounded almost defensive.

“Oh,” I began, “Some really amazing things. First, I called both of your mothers and they came over for a visit. It’s been a long time since the three of us have had a real heart to heart. That’s why you were both invited for lunch. Oh — and the second thing was, I met some of your friends too!”

Benjamin and Jeff seemed to freeze when I mentioned their friends. It was as if I had just uncovered some deep, dark secret about them.

“Your friends are so nice and well-mannered and they are such devoted -um students for your mothers!” I announced, with a smile.

“Who did you meet, exactly?” Jeff asked.

“Oh, Eddie and Marty and Preston. They are so very nice and so very friendly.”

“How did you come to meet them?” Benjamin asked.

“Well, all three of them came over with your mothers, of course. Your mothers were planning to entertain them for the afternoon but after we talked, they decided to include me. I am so glad they did!” I couldn’t help but get excited all over again at the thought of all that young, eager male attention. It did my heart good to recall the generous amounts of attention Marty and Preston had heaped on me. Old as I am, I felt a bit of dampness begin to spread between my legs at the thought of all their efforts.

“Marty and Preston are such hard workers — and Marty has such a dramatic flair when it comes to style! He has vision! After an afternoon with the two of them — well, they left me speechless!” I know I was laying it on as thick as plaster but this was genuinely how I felt. If not for Marty and Preston, I’d still be sleeping until noon, spending day after day in the same sweatpants, tee shirt and flip-flops, and sporting a furry old, dry-as-toast fluffy-muffin.

“I hope they were gentlemen,” one of them snapped.

I fought off another glorious shiver and answered, “Gentlemanly enough.”

It was at that very moment the oven timer began to beep. “Well, gentlemen, I believe our lunch is ready. Follow me!” I told them as I uncrossed my legs a bit too hastily and rose from my chair.

There was a collective groan, followed by frozen silence from Jeff and Benjamin.

Once standing, I turned toward the kitchen, gave the hem of my dress a little tug to straighten it and called after me, “This way boys! I hope you’re still hungry!”

The pair were slow to follow along, but I’m sure they were a bit taken up in watching my hips swaying in front of them. I was sure from their collective groan and the breathless silence which followed that I had given them at least a brief glimpse of my thong, inner thighs and perhaps even a bit of my bottom as I stood and then turned toward the kitchen before smoothing my dress.

“Have a seat at the table,” I said, motioning to the places I’d already set for us, “I’ll have everything ready in a minute.”

While I bustled away in the kitchen, Jeff and Benjamin discussed their plans to skip rooming together. Neither one seemed to be terribly ‘gung-ho’ for the idea of rooming alone but still, I could tell they had plans they weren’t sharing with one another.

I brought the hot casserole dish directly to the table, quickly poured our drinks and joined them as quickly as I could. “You boys don’t sound like you really want to room separately at college. What’s going on with the two of you? Do you boys have girlfriends?” I asked, trying to tease them as much as I dared.

Teasing them was made ever so much easier simply by the fact that I was serving them a steaming helping of the casserole at that very moment. Both boys were seated at opposite ends of the table and I was standing along one side, more or less between them. I was certain I had all of their attention. With my bottom thrust out behind me as it was, they could have easily gawked at my ass. Of greater concern at the moment, I’m sure, was the fact that I was having a precarious moment or two keeping my breasts from tumbling out of my dress. As I leaned over the casserole dish, I could feel the steam rising up between my boobs. My breasts were dancing and bobbling back and forth as I spooned the sloppy joe and noodle mixture onto first Jeff’s plate and then Benjamin’s. My guests were being as helpful as they could be, but as I thrust their filled plate back toward them, first one boob and then the other showed a plucky eagerness to jostle its way out of my halter top.

A fugitive nipple at the dinner table would certainly have added spice and a measure of spirit to our mealtime conversation, but the casserole was much too warm for me to be serving them ‘sloppy joe nipples.” I smiled at them both, moved more carefully above the casserole and silently wished I had thought to serve ice cream for dessert. It might have been quite exhilarating to serve them something creamy, cold and sweet on the tips of my cones.

“I guess you guys like the casserole!” I declared five minutes later. During that entire time, they hadn’t spoken a word. Heads were down, forks were in constant motion and only when their plates were scraped bare did either young man even think to lift their eyes. Their heads, mouths still chewing a last bite, tilted upward and both turned to stare at me. For a second I was thankful I hadn’t tried to serve them ‘sloppy joe nipples.’ It might well have cost me both nipples.

“Ready for seconds?” I asked.

Both boys grinned, pushed their plates my way and said, almost in unison, “Sure, just a little more, please.”

I took more care in serving them this time. I leaned forward and moved more slowly and deliberately in order to keep my breasts from tumbling out. I noticed their eyes were riveted to the quivering rise and fall of my lovely breasts. Apparently, with the edge now taken off their appetites, they had time to appreciate their surroundings more fully. I glanced first at Benjamin and grinned broadly, then turned and repeated my grin in Jeff’s direction. Both young men’s eyes never strayed from my cleavage. I pushed their plates back to them and sat once more. Two heads lowered once again and the forks, which had never left their hands, immediately resumed their work.

“You know, Mrs. Black you are a really good cook!” Jeff announced as he wiped his mouth and placed his napkin beside his plate.

“You are!” Benjamin agreed, then added, “But it’s more than just being a good cook. Heck my mom fixes this too — but somehow yours is better.”

He said this last part almost confidentially, as if he might be betraying his mother with his confession.

“It’s more than just the food, though,” Jeff cut in. “It’s . . . It’s presentation too. Things just look better when you serve them, Mrs. Black.”

“How do you mean, Jeff?” I asked. I had my suspicions but I leaned in, rested my elbows on the table and waited. Their eyes followed my cleavage to the edge of the table.

“Well things just look better when you serve them,” he said.

“I did do some modeling and product demonstrations when I was younger. Is that what you mean?” I asked.

“I guess so. Things are just better when you do ’em, Mrs. Black,” he conceded. Benjamin nodded in agreement.

I didn’t have the heart or the courage to suggest the sight of my big boobs might have something to do with their appreciation for my cooking abilities.

My face suddenly lit up. Occasionally I do manage to come up with a truly creative idea. “I have an idea! I’d like to test something out on the two of you. Are you willing to be my guinea pigs?” I quizzed with a gleam in my eye.


“I guess so.”

I beamed at them both and announced, “It’s time for dessert — and I think I’ll try a little experiment! Let’s see if presentation really is a such a big part of my cooking, like you say.”

I rose from the table and set off for the kitchen. I took my time, striding slowly, deliberately and drawing the boys’ attention to my legs and the swish of my hips as I went. I had baked a batch of brownies for dessert. They were really nothing special. They were an inexpensive mix from a box and they took no time at all to cut and then arrange on a serving plate. Of course, I selected one of my more attractive plates and I took an extra moment to arrange them.

As I finished arranging the brownies, then poured us each a glass of milk and loaded it all on a serving tray, I had a moment to think and replay all that I knew of Jeff and Benjamin, their longstanding friendship and their strong relationship. It was every bit as strong and intimate as their mothers’ relationship. It suddenly occurred to me that Liz and Abbie had both been able to accept the unintended development of this sex-laced relationship each had with the other’s son without much difficulty. I don’t think Liz or Abbie had spent a night alone in their own bed since this all began, and I was sure they wouldn’t have had it any other way. I didn’t think Jeff or Benjamin, if pressed on the matter, would object to their own mother’s relationship with their best friend. All that remained for me was to present this news flash to them both in a way that didn’t shock them too much.

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