Good Neighbours
Most Saturday’s I worked around my house. I acquired the gardening and lawn care habits from my own parents, who liked things to be tidy around their house. I weeded my front lawn most mornings, before the afternoon sun hit the lawn and made it too hot.
I would dig out the dandelions that took up residence on all the lawns in the neighbourhood, ever since the city banned the use of herbicides and pesticides on residential lawns. But it was the black medic that was the bane of my existence. It likes to grow on the compacted soil in the neighbourhood. It is viny with teardrop-shaped leaves, and its bothersome vines grow close to the ground. Its flowering heads appear in mid-May, mocking my previous years’ efforts. The best way to get rid of it is hand-weeding. So I go out most Saturdays, and try to get what I can out of my lawn.
It is an opportunity to say hi to the neighbours. There are the older people who like to get out for their morning ambles. Some are serious walkers and dress the part. Others simply amble along, happy to be out of the house. There are the people with dogs. The pretty Chinese girl who lives on the corner. She walks her Shiba, a breed of dog that looks like a fox. Whenever she walks back, I think to myself “beautiful dog, beautiful young woman.”
I have a story about how weeding resulted in a brief ‘cinq-a-sept’ affair. It is called this because it takes place in the late afternoon between two people, either at the end of the day or before their respective partners come home.
It came about innocently enough. Erica was an attractive woman. She had the confidence of a woman approaching her fifties in the way she carried herself, walking her dog through the neighbourhood. She was fit but her waist had thickened a little over the decade I lived in the neighbourhood, and her ass lost a little of its firmness. Her hair was now an attractive grey, and it was cut short. She would stop and talk briefly in the morning or sometimes come for a drink on my deck with her husband, Mike. She had been a nurse and he was a pharmacist. They had two teenage girls, who were involved in lots of activities.
One day, as they were walking past, Mike said “The other men are complaining about your lawn. It is too good.”
“Ahh well,” I said, “I just have more free time than everyone else.”
“The wives get together and complain about the men every day,” Erica added.
“Seriously, how do you keep the medic weed out.” He laughed.
The tone of the conversation was playful, so I said, “You have to angle your finger like this,” illustrating a bent index finger, “and find the root. It is a bit like stroking the g-spot.”
Erica and Mike both laughed uproariously. “Can you show Mike that again,” Erica laughed, “I would like him to do better at that. And then later he can work on the weeds.”
We all laughed again. Their dog wanted to go, and began to pull toward another dog. They walked off and I returned to the weeding. As I did, I Erica looked back at me and smiled.
A couple of days later, I heard my doorbell ring. I was taking advantage of the late afternoon sun on the deck but I put my shirt on, did a couple of buttons up and walked through the kitchen and foyer and peaked out the curtain. Erica was on the doorstep, looking around.
“Oh hey,” I greeted her.
“Hi Patrick,” she cheerily said. “Are you busy?”
“Nope, just sitting on my deck. Want to come in?”
“That would be nice,” she said. “Mike is out with the girls for the night. Two soccer games, two different fields. The late one is under the lights, so he is going to be out the whole evening.”
“In that case, do you want a drink?”
“Sure, that would be nice.”
“I have wine, spirits, I can make you a mojito, or something stronger.”
“Just something easy,” she said. “How about tequila?”
“Sure, I can do that. I have a couple of choices,” I said pointing at the bottles
“How about the Silver Patrón,” I have not had that before.
“Want it straight-up or a mixed drink?”
“Surprise me,” she said, and went out on the deck.
I decided to make her a mixed drink. Grapefruit juice, cranberry juice and lemonade, with a healthy shot of tequila. I put a little lemon wedge on the edge of her glass and some chunky ice. I poured myself a couple of shots over ice.
“Here you go,” I said as I put the drink in front of her. She had stretched out on one of the large wicker chairs on my deck, looking comfortable on the light blue cushions.
“Thanks,” she said.
The late afternoon sun on the deck was lovely. It was warm enough to sit out but not stifling.
“Your Sahabet garden is beautiful,” she remarked, looking through the glass onto the landscape below. “So much colour.” She sipped her drink and asked about the various plants, how much work it took, the watering schedule, the weeding. I sipped my drink, and answered her questions. I did not notice that her drink was gone.
“Would you like another?”
“Maybe just one on ice, like you have.”
I put my glass down on the fire table and went back in to pour her a double. I gave her a new glass and brought out some snacks.
“You must have a green thumb,” she said, continuing our chat.
“I guess so. I find it relaxing and a distraction from my work.”
“I’m sending Mike over for some lessons,” she said, as she adjusted her position.
There was something sexy about her. She was well-spoken and obviously intelligent. I did not know much about her work. I saw her mostly as a neighbourhood mother, someone who I was friendly with but only in a casual way. In the afternoon light, with her feet tucked under her, she suddenly looked very attractive.
“Cards on the table,” she suddenly said, as she knocked back her second drink. “I was thinking about what you said the other day. In fact, I could not stop thinking about it.”
“The other day?”
“Medic. G-spot?” she laughed.
“Oh, I was just trying to be funny. I didn’t mean anything.”
“But it is the same, isn’t it? I mean, you could do that right?”
“Erica, what are you asking?”
“Look, cards on the table,” she said again. “I’m going through something. I am always horny. Something is going on with my body, and I want to be fucked all the time. Mike cannot, or will not, keep up. I thought you could help.”
“Does Mike know you are here?” I asked.
“No. I don’t know what he would think. But I trust you to be discrete. The neighbours know we hang out, so it will not raise any alarms if I venture over to your place every now and then. Or every day you are home,” she laughed heartily.
“It’s a lot to take in, Erica.”
“Let’s go in and you can make me another drink. The one with cranberry juice again.”
She got up and took me by the hand, leading me back into the kitchen. I began her drink when I felt her hands around me. She kissed the back of my neck. She pressed her body into mine, forcing me against the counter. A little tequila spilled on my hand. I moved toward the sink but she grabbed my wrist and licked the tequila off my hand, moving her tongue in and through my fingers. I felt my cock stir.
“It does not have to be complicated, Patrick” she said. “I have needs and you can fulfill them. So what do you say?”
She sipped her drink and I took a minute and poured myself a quick shot. I looked at her and my desire grew. Although I did not say anything, she knew what the answer was. She grabbed my wrist with her hand and began to walk out of the kitchen. We ascended the stairs to the front bedroom.
She sat on the edge of the bed, and began to undress. She picked up her drink, and downed about half of it. “Need some confidence,” she said.
“No need. You look great,” I replied. And I meant it. There was something about the way she carried herself. Her confidence. The way she moved. She slipped out of her clothes, and pulled down the bedding. It was too hot for covers, so she laid there, propping herself up ever-so-slightly.
I was still fully clothed, so she reached over to finish her drink. As she did, I noticed the various folds in her skin, the slight sag of her breasts, the way that her ass was a little looser. But she was beautiful.
She straightened herself out and I leaned down to kiss her. She met my lips, almost reluctantly at first.
“I have not kissed anyone except my husband in a long time,” she admitted.
“That’s OK, we don’t have to kiss.”
“I want to,” she replied, moving up again to meet my lips, our tongues slipping past one another. I began to kiss her neck, and her ear lobes. I kissed her shoulders and moved down her arms. I kissed her hands and traced my tongue into the fold of her armpit. I breathed in her scent, before moving to her breasts, kissing and sucking them. Although I wanted to touch her pussy, I waited, and waited. I kept kissing her body, and stroking her leg with my hand, brushing my fingers along the inside of her thigh. She was responding to everything. Her body was moving, I might almost say writhing, under my kisses and my gentle touch.
I paused just long enough to take off my shirt, holding her gaze while I unbuttoned my shirt. She reached up and Sahabet Giriş pressed her hand against my abdomen, as I undid the button and fly on my shorts. My cock spilled out, not yet hard but on its way.
I positioned myself next to her, and took one of her nipples into my mouth, pressing my other hand against her thigh. She moved and opened up her legs, offering me the slightest of invitations. I began to move slowly down her body, kissing along her belly until my chin encountered the hint of her bush. It was not unwieldy but fuller than most women’s today. I brought a hand down to her abdomen, and stroked her public hair, taking in the scent of her dampening pussy.
“Holy fuck,” she said. She was breathing heavily, and I took this as a sign of her approval.
I repositioned myself between her legs and began to explore her pussy with my tongue and my lips. I licked her more gently than I ever licked a pussy. Taking my time. Breathing in her scent. Tasting her wetness. I put my lips on her puffy folds, playfully drawing them into my mouth. I licked her inside and out. I could feel her getting wetter and began to move my tongue up her slit, making the first few tentative explorations of her clit.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” she said. Her legs were wide now, and her cunt was growing wetter and wetter. I once again adjusted my position but this time, she put her hands on my head. She did not want me to stop licking her. But I had another idea.
I moved slightly up, and to the side. I began to gently lick her clit, pushing against it with the lightest of touches with my tongue. When I heard her moan, I moved by tongue around, flattening it out and pressing only gently. I moved down to her pussy’s wetness, and back again. She let out a loud moan, and I could see that she was playing with her own nipples with both of her hands. I slipped my right hand over her thigh and slipped my middle finger into her, cupping her pussy in my palm as I did so. My other hand pressed slightly on her abdomen. My mouth was on her clit. With my finger in her wetness, I began to gently stroke her g-spot.
“GOD, that’s amazing” she said. “Don’t stop Patrick. God, don’t stop.”
I kept my three points of contact. Hand pressing slightly against the abdomen. Tongue and lips on her clit. Middle finger gently stroking her g-spot. It was a perfect combination for her, and she raised her hips to meet my mouth and my finger, pressing hard against me.
“Oh noo” she said, “noo, noo, noo.”
I paused for just a second.
“Don’t stop,” she said breathily.
And then she began to cum. I could feel the milky wetness of drip from her pussy and over my hand. I quickly moved between her legs and began to lick my reward. I drove my tongue into her, gathering her cum as she thrashed just a little. She squeezed her thighs firmly against each side of my head, as I continued to lick her cunt.
“Amazing,” I heard her say, through the fullness of her thighs. “Holy fuck, that was amazing.”
She released her grip on my head and pulled me by the hair from her pussy. She looked at me for a second and then let go of my hair. I rested my head on her inner thigh and put my tongue out again to see her respond, but she withdrew a little, as if she had been shocked. I knew she needed a minute.
I moved up and held her close to my body. She laid on her back, her legs were pressing together, her breasts heaving. She turned her face toward me and I smiled. “I love your body,” I reassured her and she began to laugh.
“Do you?” she said. “You should have seen me when I was young!”
“I love older women. I like the way they know their body. The way the respond.”
“Their desperation,” she added laughing.
I laughed too.
“Mike doesn’t like to go down on me. I don’t think he could find my g-spot even if you showed him. He is pretty much missionary, pretty vanilla. We only had sex once a month when the kids were young but a little more now because of my constant state.”
“Well, you’ve been together a long time, so maybe it is the excitement of being with a new person?” I said, charitably.
“Maybe.” She waited a second and said, “Let’s fuck now. Not missionary.”
“Any way you like, m’lady.”
“I’ll get on top,” she said. She reached down to get me hard but there was no need. My cock had been hard the whole time I was kissing her body, eating her pussy, tasting her cum.
“Oh, you are already ready!” She seemed surprised.
“I am, how about you?”
“I’m sopping,” she said. She moved her body to climb on me. Her thighs on the outside of my legs, and on her knees. Her Sahabet Güncel Giriş breasts heaved a little. They were still firm and sagged only a little. One of the benefits of having smaller tits. She held my cock and slipped it into her. She was right, she was sopping wet.
“Mike doesn’t stay hard like this,” she said, almost sadly. “God, your cock is big.” She began to move up not only up and down but also moved her hips back and forth. She rode my cock deeply, pressing her hands against my chest to maintain her balance. She closed her eyes and her short hair bobbed with her. She arched her body a little, taking my full length into her. Then she would almost collapse onto me, working only a part of my cock into her, changing the angle of penetration. She was stimulating her clit with my cock in this way, and I could feel her passion building again. I was trying to imagine what she was thinking, getting off with her neighbour. Feeling things perhaps for the first time. Her pace quickened a little more and then she suddenly rolled from me, lying next to me. My cock was hard as a rock.
“Make me cum again,” she said. “Make me cum again.”
I knew what she wanted and it wasn’t my cock. I moved my body down and began to lick her swollen cunt again. I took her clit into my mouth and gently sucked it. And I put my middle finger into her, finding her g-spot once again. In a matter of seconds, there was a rush of liquid. Not the milky cum of her first orgasm but a wave of wetness that washed over my mouth.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she moaned, an utterance of both pleasure and embarrassment. “I’m sorry. What happened?”
“You squirted,” I said, as I wiped my face with my forearm. “It is perfect. I love that I made you squirt.”
“I thought I peed,” she said.
“No you didn’t pee. It comes from a different place. You never did this before?”
“Never,” she admitted. Her body was shaking a little.
“Want to see something cool?” I asked.
“Okay,” she said cautiously.
“I can make you squirt again. This time, I’m going to hold you a little, in place. And drink you in.”
“Are you sure?”
“Trust me.”
With my assurance, and my eagerness, she laid back and spread her legs again. I gently began to lick the inside of her legs, the wetness against my tongue and cheeks. I licked the outside of her pussy, moving up and down. She began to squirm again, and I knew she was ready for me to resume contact with her pussy. I probed her with my tongue, licking up and down her pussy. I swirled around her clitoris, feeling it respond and grow again. She cooed because she was sensitive. But she was so wet, I knew that any friction was being reduced. I put my finger in her again and gently massaged her g-spot one more time. With mouth and finger fully engaged, she released a second rush and this time, I removed my finger and pressed my mouth against her. The warmth of her wetness filled my mouth, as she moaned and screamed her approval.
I quickly mounted her and stuck my cock into her. There was no gentle probing her. I put the head into her cunt and pushed deeply into her. I began to pump, almost furiously. The full length of my cock was in her when I felt her body convulse again. My body spasmed too and I’m not sure if she came first or I did, but we experienced our intense pleasure together.
I kept my cock in her and held her for a minute. I lifted my hips and took my sticky cock from her cunt, its wetness against her thigh. She reached down to touch it. I instinctively withdrew a little but then eased back into her gentle touch.
“God that was amazing,” she said and began to giggle a little, like a young girl. “You made my body do things that it never did before.” After some time holding one another, she got out of bed. “Mind if I get a shower here?”
“Not at all,” I said.
I watched her go to the bathroom, her ass bouncing a little as she went. She turned back to look at me, like she had on the street a few days ago. I took that as a sign that I would see her again.
Erica came by quite a bit for about a year and a half. A few times a week.
“Does Mike notice any change in you?” I asked.
“Only that my mood is better and that I’m not putting much pressure on him for more sex.”
“That’s good,” I said. I liked Mike and certainly did not want to cause any trouble for him or Erica. “He attributes everything to ongoing changes in my body. Women’s bodies change rapidly and in mysterious ways in our 50s.”
I came to cherish my time with her. It was not wild but just good sex with a willing partner who was finding out new things about her body. Then, it was over. She simply stopped coming. She did not move away and her and Mike seemed fine. They kept talking to me as I did my lawn work. I assumed that her sexual appetite went away. Or that maybe Mike had found his way to the g-spot, after all.