Backyard MILF Ch. 02

I admired a commitment to honesty like that...

"Sorry!" my father called sheepishly, forgoing his trip inside as a subterfuge no longer worth employing. "Does she look pissed?" he whispered up to me. I made a show of peering over that way. Kristie had suddenly decided to put down her book and was doing some completely unnecessary tidying on her back patio. She unfolded and refolded her towel, and picked up her bikini bottom, folding it neatly atop the towel. None her activity required any bending over at all, but she incorporated plenty of it any way, usually while facing directly toward, or mostly away from me.

Good gravy, did that woman have a spectacular ass. I marveled again at its tight, smooth, small, yet somehow generously curved, confectionary perfection.

"I think that she's forgotten you already, Dad," I whispered, tearing my eyes away from the show. "She's gone back to folding towels."

My father held up the slack corner of the shade sail to me. The look in his eyes told me he hoped that Kristie did indeed forget about and would not tease him about it in front of Mom at the next neighborhood get-together. The other look in his eyes was less charitable. "You might have led with the fact that she was over there," he growled quietly at me.

"Whatever would have been the fun in that?" I chortled, taking the anchoring strap. Attaching it to the monster eye hook in the post, I gave it a good tug. It was secure. We could tighten it properly from the ground. I looked up one last time for Kristie, and waved as if casually at any other neighbor.

"See you later, Kristie," I called out, disentangling myself from my elevated seat. Kristie was lying back down in her chaise, book already in her hand again. She chirped a disinterested-sounding 'see you later' in reply, but tugged idly on a nipple without even looking up at me. I shook my head in amusement as I started to down to Dad. If he only knew.

That little scene had been insanely hot, I mused as I carefully picked my way down a structure not really intended to be climbed. In fact, I thought, it had been rewarding in its own right... which gave me more ideas about how to make this thing with Kristie work just right.

"You are still grinning," my father grumped as I reached the ground. "It wasn't that funny."

"Oh, I beg to differ," I replied. "But that's not what has me smiling. I'm already enjoying the thought of the couple of beers you are going to buy me at Hallahan's as soon as we are done cranking this thing tight. And about how I'm going to crush you at 8-Ball while we drink."

"I'm buying?" came the arch reply.

"Yes, you are buying. I just made this job of yours easier, safer, and cheaper than if I weren't here," I said firmly as we both leaned into the crank on the cable. "Also, if I am drinking beer on your tab at Hallahan's when Mom gets home, I can't regale her with funny tales about how the afternoon went!"

He looked at me sourly. "All right. But I refuse to yield to blackmail to the extent of actually losing to the likes of you at pool."

He was good to his word and waxed me in three straight games.

*

Dad is really a lot better than me at billiards anyway, but I had been distracted with plotting how to get my jollies while also working Kristie back up to a frenzy, based on what I had observed so far.

The key takeaway was remembering how fucking hot it was just to watch her. A spying session that didn't end in getting caught would still be super worth it. In some ways, even better.

Some ways...

I resolved to actively try to not get caught... most of the time. She could well catch me sometimes anyway, which I'd hardly mind, but the fun for both of us would be better if I was really trying, and hopefully succeeding in not being caught. Then she really wouldn't know when I was spying and when I wasn't. She'd spend all her off-work hours simultaneously putting on a show and working herself up.

The idea of maneuvering Kristie into thinking about me in sexual terms during her every free moment was the greatest idea in the history of ideas.

The second greatest idea in the history of ideas was the fact that I was going to amass a shit-ton of photographs of Kristie for once I moved away. My mind flinched away at that last idea.

Dad and I were prevented from starting either a fourth game or a fourth beer by a text we simultaneously received from Mom.

Mom: The shade looks good. Thank you.

Mom: I assume that you are out drinking and making trouble. Come home. Dinner is almost ready.

Dad and I both thumbs-upped the second text and we headed out for the five-minute drive home. When we got there, the place smelt amazing. Mom had made this pseudo-Asian chicken dish that is a specialty of hers. Dad kissed her, but skipped the molestation of her that he usually engaged in whenever they greeted in front of me. The smell was getting to him too.

Mom was having none of that, though. As Dad sat down, she swiftly straddled him in his dining room chair, wrapped her arms around his shoulders and snogged him good. Christ, was she grinding on him?

I've already mentioned how much I get icked out by the two of them and their deliberate PDA. I've also mentioned how my own sexual pre-occupation was now getting tangled up with these displays. I'd have bolted out of the house right there, but I was hungry and the food smelled ridiculously good.

"Want me to keep dinner warm for you two?" I growled acerbically.

They actually looked at each other for a moment! As if they were considering accepting the offer!

No.

No. No. No.

No!

Mom finally shook her head and crawled off of Dad. "This smells too good," she declared as she rose and turned to the serving dish. "Besides, we have plenty of time after dinner, right Larry?"

Throughout dinner, my thoughts warred between how good the food was and whether I could gouge out my eyes with the butter knife. As soon as I was full, I bolted out of the house, hoping (ultimately unsuccessfully) to get some buddies, any buddies, to go out for a few more beers. Ultimately, I perched on a bar stool and nursed two Tanqueray Martinis through the rest of the Marlins game. We lost because... we suck.

Baseball is a great game to watch because it leaves a lot of free time to plot sex games with your neighbor while your team loses ignominiously.

*

I woke early the next day, drove Dad to the airport, then set about my fresh plans. The key was a new hiding spot from which to watch and take pictures of my magnificent neighbor. It needed to be comfortable, since I would need to be able to be there a long time, if I did not want to be caught. (That had been the flaw with my original, almost involuntary, time spying on Kristie: No exit strategy.) It also needed to be more concealing, if I didn't want to get caught now that I could tell she would be looking.

I wondered how hard she would be looking...

I first killed the rest of the morning at the garden store, picking up a new Mandevilla to fill where we had had to prune pretty brutally to do the repairs on the shade. I grabbed some quick lunch, then hustled home. I did not have time to actually plant the vine, so I settled for just watering it and leaving it for tomorrow.

I changed into my loosest board shorts and made sure I had plenty of sunscreen on. I was not completely sure how much sun I would be in, or for how long.

By the time Kristie was logging off from work, I was ready. The problem I had finally solved had been that the only gate into her back yard was on the side of her house next to mine. To reach any potential new hiding spot from which to observe her back patio, I'd need to cross out in the open where I could be observed from inside.

That was too big a risk.

Fortunately, the span between the other side of her house and the end of the privacy fence running along the opposite property line was not filled by more fence, but a dense, high hedge. It had no gate, but the shrubs had the virtue of being old enough to start getting leggy, leaving space underneath to crawl through, if I was willing to get a little scratched up.

I'd have crawled over broken glass for this, so a little slide under some scratchy underbrush was nothing.

I went out and wandered down the street as if I had something to do or place to go. Then I reversed course, and right as I knew she was logging off and would likely be getting changed out of her work clothes, I reached the sidewalk in front of that hedge.

Before I turned in, I looked around to make sure I was unobserved. Thank God I did. Sandy Hammond from across the street was coming out of her house at that very moment. Had I not looked first, it could have been... bad.

Sandy was nineteen, and had the kind of blossoming body that any upright 24-year-old like me should spend his time averting his eyes from. I had certainly done my share of averting my gaze at the last circuit party, carefully not examining her in that white, one-piece bathing suit, with her long brown hair and tanned skin. Carefully not examining her sky blue eyes and rounded, upturned nose.

You know, that kind of averting of the gaze.

Today, I was actually pissed to see her. Her presence was a major problem, and reminded me that I could not just focus on Kristie in all this.

I did not need the same girl who, as a thirteen-year-old, had run and told her parents that she had just seen me and Taylor Simpkins drinking our carefully purloined beers.

My parents had not been pleased, more because I had gotten caught publicly and thus embarrassed them, than they had because I was drinking a beer. More importantly, I missed out on what had turned out to be my one and only chance to bang Taylor Simpkins. I was still bent about that...

"Hey Sandy!" I said, choosing to greet her, rather than the other way around.

"Hey Reggie," she called, rather more friendly than usual. Swell. A friendly snitch is one who gets in your business.

We talked for ten minutes. Ten valuable minutes. We didn't talk about anything useful, mind you. And she was not in any way indicating any attraction toward me, either. I mean, let's be real. If she had been interested in sex, my opinion of this girl would have changed... swiftly and dramatically.

Look, Sandy was hot. She ruined a summer of mine years ago. And she was in the way of the sexual escapade I wanted to try to have right now. But she was hot. Had she given indication one that she thought I might scratch an itch for her, things would have been different. But as it was, she was an inconvenience, and a reminder that, whatever Kristie's attitude about me, getting caught by the larger neighborhood was a serious no-go. And she was using up my precious time to get into position before Kristie came back outside.

The stakes of this game were high.

Finally, I somehow managed to bore her into taking off. Since when did I have to work to get rid of Sandy?

I walked further down a few houses, then returned.

A final quick glance around to supplement the surreptitious observations I had been making all along told me that I was unobserved by any other neighbors besides the blessedly absent Sandy. Wandering slowly off the street, I slipped in between Kristie's house and the Spearman's on the other side.

I slid under the hedge almost unscathed, and I took a moment to break off the only really unpleasant branch the blocked the gap I had chosen. Standing up, I was in and certainly undetected.

My memory had not failed me, there were two good places to perv from on this side of the yard. I chose the closer one for this occasion. It was a narrow spot of grass between the fence and a thick little, oblong bed of lush green foliage and Bird of Paradise flowers. It was counter-intuitive, but this was actually the better, more secure hiding spot. Both spots were in the opposite direction from where she would likely look for 'intruders', and this one seemed right out in the open, with clear, un-obscured sight lines along the fence. But unless Kristie came right over to the fence, I'd be almost certainly invisible from anywhere else in the yard. I could sit over here comfortably with my water bottle and watch for as long as I wanted.

My only worry was whether she would come out and decide to put on a show for a potential Reggie the Peeping Tom situation, or if she had errands.

She did not have errands. My wave over the fence had been as promising as I had meant it to be, and she must have decided to lean into being spied on that day. (Unless she had been leaning into it every day, and I had just been missing it.)

Less than fifteen minutes after she had logged off from work, Kristie stepped out of her back door, holding a jug of chemicals and a bag of pool tools... and wearing not a stitch of clothing.

As shows for a clandestine perv, naked pool maintenance was top notch. It naturally meant a lot of bending over at all angles, and just enough light exertion to set her skin to glistening almost immediately.

I found the way her breasts swayed as she worked the long-handled scrubbing brush down into the water to be particularly fetching. As my eyes stayed glued to that hypnotic movement, I found that my hand was working down into my shorts. I had no intention of being caught at all that day, so I saw no reason not to add some physical stimulation of my own. I was a perv. I was going to own it fully.

I chose not to use my phone for the pictures. I had an old Fuji pocket camera which made up for its lack of megapixels with a much more powerful optical zoom. I had spent an inordinate amount of time earlier, going through its menus before I found how to turn off the fake shutter sounds. I only needed one to send her, but I was going to fill the chip, as far as I was concerned.

The camera also took video...

Good lord, it was going to be awesome to review those dangling, swaying tits.

Kristie obviously was putting on a show, though she could not know I was there. She was doing it 'on spec', I guess. The only problem with that was that she was posing her various showy moves with the idea that I might be back on the opposite side of the yard...

Once the already spotless pool was fully cleaned, Kristie set aside her tools and instead concentrated on applying sunscreen all over her body in the most scenic manner possible. She twisted and turned and displayed some serious limberness as she slowly worked the suggestively white cream into her flesh.

It was most certainly a show as she worked, as pinching those luscious and very excited nipples was something most certainly not needed for the supposed task at hand. She kept turning around slowly the whole time, cocking those slender, succulent legs in various poses as she went. It gave me some incredible views, and part of what made them so good was that she genuinely was trying to put on the best show for someone, even if she thought they were probably on the opposite side of her.

I could see her casting clandestine looks that way as well. The glances from her lovely hazel eyes were brief, as if not sure she wanted to catch me, at least not yet. But she was just as clearly not sure if I was even there. I thought what I saw told me that she liked the uncertainty... or at least liked the feeling that it induced.

A bird flashed behind the vine-decked trellis of my former hiding place, and she finally actively looked over there. She was definitely disappointed that the movement had not been me. She didn't give up, since I had hours yet to appear, but she clearly went to a lower level of alert.

That made watching her all the more hot as she became a lot more relaxed and natural, while still being gloriously naked. When she started some light yoga that was clearly actual exercise, not an erotic display, I had to bite my lip.

I checked the camera. Fuck. I need to buy a bigger chip. I would have to slow down my video taking, lest I miss something.

I found my trunks pulled down and my dick in my hand as I knelt behind the foliage. The view was reasonably obstructed, but I could still see enough. My knowledge of her body, of the smoothness of her abdominals, and the equally smooth, soft skin between her legs, filled in any gaps in what I could see. This kind of obstructed view would not always be satisfying, I knew, but for today, it kind of made it better.

I had not intended to jack off back here, but here I was. It was almost automatic, I was so turned on. And what better thing for a peeping tom to do than whack off while watching his 'victim'?

My only question was, was I going to actually drive myself to come, just enjoy some nice stroking, or be crazy and edge myself mad?

My body decided for me.

Her yoga session finished, Kristie grabbed a novel and settled into her chaise, turning to a dog-eared page in the book. I could not see the title from where I was, but the subject matter was clear. In but a page or two, the hand not holding the book was nestled between her legs and doing its thing. Her masturbation was languid at first, and it was funny watching her lift her hand to turn the page, while trying not to get her juices onto the paper. Turning pages in a book with your thumb and pinky is apparently not easy.

But the subject matter heated up after a page or two, and her fingers started working harder. She looked around, a little wildly, then stared back at the book while plunging her fingers deeper. Until now, she was likely putting on a show for what she thought was probably a nonexistent audience, but this she was doing for herself.

She kept her eyes glued to the pages, but her whole body began to convulse. I took a few more shots, but found that getting good ones was hard with my other hand stroking myself so swiftly. Fortunately, she had music playing like usual, which made the soft sounds of my pumping hand inaudible.

Kristie gasped and bit her lip, groaning as he body shook. I knew now what she looked like when she had an orgasm, and this clearly was another. I was deeply gratified to see that while she clearly enjoyed it, I had given her far more powerful examples. She finally slapped the book closed against her thigh and she drew another wave of pleasure from within herself.

That is when my body decided for me that I was going to come as well. I barely kept silent by practically biting my cheek as my hips spasmed and my shaft throbbed in my hand. I looked down as I fountained a robust stream out into the air and down onto the broad leaves of the foliage that concealed me.

I took a few pictures of the residue as well.

I wiped my hand clean on the grass and pulled up my shorts as Kristie came down from her own high. She lay there, curled on her side for a few scenic minutes, then sat up, dog-earing her book once more.

She looked carefully over at the trellis by my house and this time was sure I was not there. She shrugged and unfolded herself from the chaise. She took a deep sip of the glass beside her chair, then wandered back inside.

I took my opportunity to slip back and under the hedge. I almost walked straight back to my house before I realized that she could easily see me cutting across her yard if I did. Instead, I took a brisk walk around the bend on the street, then returned on the other side. When I reached her house, I crossed the road, not making any secret of how I examined every window on that side, as if wondering if she was home. I did not see anything, which proved nothing. I turned and went home.

And I dashed up to my room and downloaded the pictures and video.

I was going to need a better camera, in addition to a bigger memory chip. It would be worth the investment...

I made myself wait two days before I sent the text.