tagMatureMy Older Neighbor

My Older Neighbor

byMacSwain612©

Irene lives over my back fence. She has been alone for most of 10 years that I've lived in this house. Her husband had been the local OSHA inspector who had perished during a routine safety inspection downtown. He was testing the safety cabling around the perimeter of the 18th floor of a high rise under construction, when he tripped and fell into a wheel barrow full of water, knocked himself out and drowned. The story was glorified a bit about having fallen to his death, but I knew better.

My second year in the house I had a girlfriend move in with me, but it didn't even last the summer. For the next two years Irene and I lived back to back with only an occasional wave every now and then.

One windy winter night, the back fence dividing our yards blew down. We now had a reason to talk, discussing how best to have the fence fixed. We stood both at the edges of our yards bundled against the snow flurries, and spoke for the first time ever. She was nice. I liked her. I had previously figured her for middle forties, but up close realized that she was more like late fifties, even early sixties. We continued to chat, as neither of us had had anyone to talk with for weeks. We talked until we were both freezing, and had to go inside. She gave me her number, as I was going to get some quotes for having the fence fixed and call her.

That evening, having called 6 or 7 guys who all laughed at my wanting to have the fence fixed immediately, I called her and told her that we would likely be sharing a backyard until spring. She told me that it wasn't so bad having a neighbor to talk to. She hadn't had that for some time. I invited her to call me anytime and gave her my number.

The following evening she called. She was feeling really down. The snow that had fallen all night was still coming down heavily. She was bored to tears, and trapped in her den with no TV; the cable was out. I had satellite, which worked fine as long as I broomed the snow out of the dish every hour. She was frustrated that nothing worked in her house. When I asked, she listed the items that were currently broken including her heater; the house was frozen, literally! She was lying under an electric blanket! I was aghast; what if the power went out. I realized that the power had gone out two days ago, in the middle of the night. She admitted to have nearly froze to death, but for running the oven all night.

I demanded that she come across the yards and stay with me until she had working heat. She wouldn't hear of it. I pressed the issue until I had to hang up, go to her house and practically drag her home with me. We gathered a few things for her personal comfort and headed to my house where she stayed for 3 days. Our light snowfall had turned into the biggest ice storm in 10 years.

So began a friendship that continues to this day, 8 years later. We are very close friends; closer than most. We eventually, step by teeny tiny step, became lovers. that began during the following winter, when I gave her a massage that got very heated.

We never did fix the fence between our yards, but simply removed the debris and fused our gardens together. We spent the spring together gardening and having Sunday brunches together on her back porch. She would sometimes join me, or sometimes me and a date, swimming in my pool and bar-b-queing. I began to realize that for someone of her age, 62, she looked fantastic! My "girlfriends" were always fascinated how a man my age, 29, would find her attractive. But I found her to be terrifically attractive; sexy; arousing.

She had only one bathing suit, but it fit her perfectly! High on the hip, open back, plunging front. It was very hot. She had a full figure, but what a figure! Very large breasts, high and upstanding, wide hips but not at all fat. I realized what Reubens found so appealing about his models; they were hot! As was Irene. We were together at some point practically every weekend, throughout the long hot summer.

One drunken Saturday afternoon when the temperature hovered above 100 and the humidity was off the chart. We lazed by the pool, not wanting to exert too much effort at anything. The burning sun finally went over the edge and the evening cooled. She was going home, when I drunkenly invited her back that night for a skinny dip in the Jacuzzi. I was immediately embarrassed after I had blurted it out, but she laughed it off and went home.

I was naked and in the tub at 9:00 pm when she appeared out of the shadows to join me. I had an instant shudder of arousal that she was going to get naked with me, but I soon realized she was not nearly so bold. She wore her suit as we soaked, floating quietly, not speaking. I was more than slightly smashed, having consumed beer all day long and eaten almost nothing. I joked about getting out of tub and walking naked to the house and going to bed, she told me to go ahead. She calmly watched as I stood up slowly, revealing my erection, got out dried off and went inside. I was compelled to move slowly and allow her to look if she wanted. I had the funny sensation of wanting her to see me nude, I've always been in good shape and proud of the size and shape of my penis. Her face was unreadable as she studied me, nude in front of her. I said goodnight, I think.

We repeated our Jacuzzi soaking once a month through the summer. I was by now trying to get her to get naked with me but to no avail. Finally, on Halloween, having taken her to a party with me, "as my date", we had our late evening soak. After which she stood up, got out of the tub, turned her back to me, stripped out of her suit, squeezed the water out of her hair, and wrapped a towel around herself, never once turning, even slightly.

"Wow," I finally burbled out. "You shouldn't be nearly so shy, with a shape like that."

"Well," she finally managed, as she collected her things, "Not so easy for someone that's never been nude in front of anyone besides her husband."; Not even once, I asked. "Not even once" as she blew a kiss and headed for her house I called after what a crime that was. I could hear her laughing out there in the dark.

Around midnight the phone rang. "It's Irene dear," she whispered into the phone. "I hope you'll forgive me for calling so late, but I'm feeling a bit drunk, for which I blame you completely." She giggled a bit. "Actually I'm quite ... well ... drunk I suppose and simply cannot sleep."

"So talk to me," I slurred into the phone.

"I just, ... really just," she stammered, "Wanted to know why it is that you're so fascinated with seeing my, ... me, ... in the nude?" I snapped fully awake at that.

"I'm sorry, " I choked out, "What did you ... are you kidding? Why wouldn't I? You are fantastic looking! Your body is exquisite! Do you think it's not?"

She chuckled doubtfully, commenting on our age difference. I swore to her that I was not lying but that I found her remarkably sexy. She was silent on her end.

"Forget your age!" I demanded. Your body turns me on like crazy! Forgive my saying, but you asked." I continued describing what I found so sexy about her; her mannerisms, her eyes, her shape; that incredible view of her naked back and behind; her voice and the silkiness of her skin, white and flawless. I told her how much I longed to see her completely nude. She just listened quietly. I imagined her dozing in bed, listening to my rambling.

I moved on to telling her what I would like to do to her. Hours passed it seemed as I continued telling her all of the sensual and sexual things that I would do to and with her. I continued to hear her rhythmic breathing and an occasional quiet moan, but she never spoke, only listened. We both finally fell into a drunken, stuporous sleep, without even hanging up. She left the next week for a month-long European vacation with a distant relative. I was never so lonely, as without my neighbor.

Irene called me on a snowy Saturday afternoon. She had been in the south of France, and had just returned an hour ago. She wanted to see me. I was thrilled. She admitted to an awful plane trip back and was so sore. I offered a massage for her back. She was really unsure, so I backed off. Dinner and a video? Sure. She would be over in half an hour.

She arrived at my door in a long down parka, to her heels and her Sorel snow boots. Once inside she removed them to reveal her silk pajamas. I could tell in an instant that she was nude underneath. Her nipples were pushing out the front, almost obscenely. There was almost more cleavage showing than in her bathing suit. I was enchanted and told her so.

"Can I kiss you?" she asked out of the blue, her eyes filled with trepidation, not that I would say no, I think she knew I wouldn't, but because she seemed to want it to go no further and wasn't sure if we could. My simpleton's smile told her absolutely and we kissed. We kissed like we had wanted to for months, which I guess we had. It was amazing! We kissed long and deeply, but touching no where else, just our lips; and tongues.

"Hungry?" I asked, after we had broken.

"Sore." She replied. I turned her and began rubbing her shoulders through the silken material. Her head lolled around happily.

"You should really let me set up my table and give you a proper massage." I worked her shoulders a bit more and then stroked my hands down her back and then, very cautiously, around her in a hug. Her arms encircled mine and we hugged for a long time. Finally I turned her back to face me and realized she'd been crying. I kissed her again, and then we hugged for a very long time.

Finally we parted; I looked deep in her eyes, took her hand and led her to the spare room where I had my massage table. It was piled high with stuff, from non-use. I uncovered it, laid a blanket down, and approached her with a questioning look. She slowly began undoing the buttons of her pajama top. I watched patiently, expecting her to ask me to leave the room and not wanting to make her feel uneasy. Finally, she removed it. She peeled it back off of both shoulders exposing to me, for the very first time, a pair of breasts that made me want to cry. They were absolutely spectacular!! Very large and softly rounded; creamy, soft, elegant skin; tipped with large, darkly pink areolas with perfectly erect little nipples. They pushed up and out impossibly, weightless, into thin air. They could easily have been the breasts of some 18 year old girl.

She self-consciously hurried through removing her bottoms and then stood before me completely, gloriously, sensuously nude. Her hands were folded demurely in front of her rather small patch of hair. My smile and the look in my eyes conveyed how much I admired her form. We kissed again. I cupped her face and she stroked my back. She sucked my tongue and then gently bit my lower lip, smiled a sexy-sweet smile and laid down face first on the table.

Her body was absolute velvet in my hands. Her skin was very fair and elegantly soft to the touch. The curves of her mature body were far more exquisite than the harder, sculpted shapes of girls much younger. She was not athletic, but soft and round and curvy beyond anything I experienced previously, and it made me crazy for her. It was pure pleasure to simply touch her skin.

I massaged her quietly for an hour and a half and then, rolling her onto her back after a bit. She did so without a hint of shyness or hesitation. It was heaven gazing at every inch of her nude form as I stroked my hands over her. Covering her with a soft blanket, whispered in her ear to get up whenever she was ready. Without opening her eyes she reached up, took my face gently in her hands and pulled my lips to hers. We kissed softly. As I stood to leave she opened her eyes just for a moment and caught sight of my rather painful erection. She closed her eyes, a slight smile on her full lips, and laid back to rest.

I went to the kitchen to make us dinner and kept rolling over in my mind every inch of Irene's body. I had examined it very closely during the massage and tried to memorize every square inch, not sure if I'd ever see it again. I was standing at the sink peeling potatoes when she reached around a hugged me from behind.

"Whatcha thinkin'?" she asked, not letting go. I dropped the potato, the peeler and held her hands in mine. I hesitated a long time. "That bad, huh?" she said at last. Her hug relaxed noticeably.

"Bad?" I countered. "Whadya mean?" Irene was silent a long time, her arms around me. Somehow I perceived that the "lovers" hug had relaxed into a "Mother's" hug.

"Nothing." She said at last, letting me go and moving to sit at the table. I asked again, what she had meant by bad. She was thoughtful for a very long time. She looked like she was considering her words carefully, so I just let her.

"I wasn't sure," she started finally, ... I'm not sure, how to ... what to do with my feelings about us. And this." She finally looked up to me. "I like you, Jake. A lot. You've been a good neighbor. Well, ... that's silly, ... you've been a good friend." I was about to tell her that I liked her a lot as well, but she looked as if she wasn't done. "It's just that sometimes I feel so alone." She suddenly looked as if she might cry. "I'm terrified of being the silly old woman that ..., "she trailed off. Her eyes pleading now as if hoping that I was getting whatever it was she wasn't saying. I wasn't. "How I wish you could've seen me when I was your age ..." she trailed off. "I know that I'm older than ... well ..." She trailed off for a very long pause.

"Sometimes, I want so much for us to ..." She was growing more uncomfortable by the moment.

"Are you concerned ...," I started. She looked up at me. "That I won't find you attractive because of your age?"

"More than twice your age." She was very near crying now. "Worse. I'm in my 6o's and you're in your 20's."

"Twenty-nine." I corrected, then instantly recognized that it didn't help. "I really don't care what your age is."

"It's not that I want a relationship, because, ... well, I do, I might, ... but with you, ..." I waited. "I just don't want, ...God!" she stood and walked a small circle and sat down again. "What is it with you? Why are you so interested in an old woman like me? Am I some freaky fantasy thing? Some "mother" complex thing goin' on?" She was really worked up now, tears were coming.

"I ..." I was at a loss for what to say. She was looking at me to fess up and come on out with my freaky fantasy. "It is really none of those things." I defended.

We sat there staring at each other for awhile. "What is it that you're afraid of?" I asked. "That I'll suddenly run off with a younger girl? That you might just be a fling? That you aren't sexy and exciting?" After a long pause I asked, "What are we talking about anyway?"

"I just don't want to be thought of as some kind of joke!" Now the tears came in earnest. "The old woman who gets played by the young man. I feel so lonely sometimes and I want to be thought of as sexy and fun and ... you might not think that I think about sex ... well ... but I do and I think as much as anyone that sex is ... my body is as much as the young girls that you do with ... when you look at me and then I ... you say that you think ... when we're together and you look at me like I'm ... I do get all wet and hot and want to ... I need to feel like I'm ... FUCK! I don't know what I'm saying!!!"

Irene got up to leave. She went for her coat and I had to grab her and keep her from running out the door. She finally burst. Her dam crumbled and she began crying in earnest. I held her as the sobs wracked her in my arms. We slowly melted to the floor as her legs gave out and she fell into my arms. She cried hard for a minute or two. I simply held her.

Finally she spoke in a hoarse whisper. "I'm sorry that I'm so pathetic. Being alone is easier when there isn't such temptation."

"What are you so afraid of?" I whispered into her ear. She turned to look into my eyes.

"Do you really think I'm sexy? No bullshit."

"Of course" I replied.

"No. Fuck that" She stated firmly. "Not 'of course'. Do you think that I'm really sexy? Like the other girls that you've had over here?" She stared into my eyes a long time. "Would you have sex with me?"

I smirked, "Is that an invitation?" She tried to push me away. "Whoa, whoa! Hold it. Hold it! What is this? What are you so afraid of?" I held her close to me. "Would I have sex with you? Absolutely! You have been in my fantasies for months now. Years actually, now that I think of it. Fuck me! Are you kidding?" I looked her hard in the eye. "Yes! I would. I will. Yes. Nothing would thrill me more!"

We sat together, her half in my lap, half sprawled on the floor, for along moment. "Are you afraid that I would have sex with you as some sort of curiosity, then just leave you?"

After a long pause, Irene slowly nodded at me. "No." I simply said and left it at that. She stared at me hard for a bit and then slowly moved back into me, as the tears came anew. I simply held as her years of loneliness and pent up sexual frustration poured out onto my shoulder. We knelt there together for a long while.

We got up and began to make dinner in silence. Much had been said and now needed to be digested. I poured her a glass of wine and gave it to her with a kiss and embrace.

"I feel like a complete dope but I'm still a bit lost" I told her.

"I'm just afraid of feeling like a fool, or being made a fool of."

"By me?" I asked.

"Well, ... I've found that it is easiest to be hurt by those closest to us." I waited for her to explain. "If ...," she started again, "If, ... we were to be ... lovers, ..." My heart began to pound anew. "I would hate to be ... some kind of experiment or fantasy and then be cast aside. Mind you, ..." she hurried on, "I'm not looking for a relationship, and I don't expect you to ... well, ... be ..." She trailed off again.

I walked over to her and put my arms around her and held her tight. "God, you make me so turned on." She looked up at me. "It would be the hottest thing in my life if you and I were lovers." She smiled a bit. "Do you really believe that I wouldn't, ... I find you incredibly sexy at any age. You are the sexiest woman that I've ever met, no fucking around. Your body is superb. Absolutely incredible and luscious!!! I would fuck you, ... well, ... make love to you, ... well you would be hotter than any other girl I've ever been with."

I leaned down and we French kissed like passionate lovers. Irene slid her hand down between and stroked my erection lovingly. She pulled me tight and whispered in my ear, "Jake, you have the most gorgeous cock I've ever seen, or even dreamed of." We kissed again. "I would so love to have you fuck me, with this beautiful penis, let you take me any way you choose, ... but, ... could I ask something of you that you might not like?"

I looked her in the eye. She continued, "Could we take it slowly, though?"

She looked completely embarrassed to being saying this at the end of the conversation we just had. I admit to wanting to fuck her right there on the floor of the kitchen, but part of me knew how exquisite it would be, now knowing that we were destined to screw, to hold off and make the moment last. The build of the anticipation of getting closer and closer but not quite doing it until neither of us could stand it any longer.

I kissed her again and smiled broadly at the thought of teasing her and of her teasing me for the next however many days, nights, weeks or ... "You really are the sexiest woman I've ever met." She smiled wide with moist eyes at finding out that she was nothing like a joke or freak show, but really was sexy, desirable, beautiful, sensual. "I get the feeling that I'm going to go crazy from wanting you before you let me in." I joked. "Well, two can play that game baby. You are going to want me so badly, it may turn into a case of rape." We both laughed hard. The stress of our conversation melted away. We kissed again. We gazed into each other's eyes with the knowledge that at some point, (soon I hoped), we would be fucking each other so good! For good measure, I turned her in my arms and gently cupped her beautiful big breasts in my hands and, finding her nipples all erect I toyed with them a minute. "I can't wait to suck on these, lick them, bite them." She was literally panting now, before I moved away. "But, you'll just have to wait."

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byMacSwain612© 13 comments/ 123735 views/ 14 favorites

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