Backyard MILF Ch. 02

No words, just a blurry picture of her jilling off, book in hand, and a short video clip of those tits swaying as she cleaned the pool.

As the pictures swooshed off through the internet to her phone, I grabbed one more and sent it along as well--a nice clear image of the broad, green, tropical leaf with an unmistakeable splatter of jizz all over it.

Both texts showed as 'read' in less than a minute. There was no reply.

*

She had to be able to tell where I had been hiding from the pictures I had sent. The next afternoon, I went straight to the same place, ready to be 'caught' this time.

But damned if she never came back out to the back yard that afternoon. I got a cramp from crouching before I finally left.

The next afternoon, I was back again, assuming that she had just been doing errands the day before. After I had been out there almost an hour again, I finally heard the back door open. But when Kristie came out, she was still dressed in her work clothes.

Don't get me wrong, Kristie in her work clothes is still a lovely sight, and I immediately took a picture or two with my old camera. (The new one was still a day away, according to the Amazon app.) But this was not what I was there to see. All she did was tidy up a little, then made a phone call about something I could not make out, but it seemed very routine.

I did catch her looking around the yard a little, as if wondering whether she was being watched... No, she looked just a little like she wanted to seem worried that she was being watched. But even though she looked right in my direction once or twice, she didn't see me. Or did she choose not to?

Regardless, she went back inside and I was left there, still 'at large'. This was getting frustrating. I did not see her again that afternoon.

The next day, she came right out again after work. I had barely time to get into position before her back door opened. She was wearing a swimsuit I did not recognize, and believe me, had I ever seen it before, I'd have recognized it. It was a string bikini with pale pink strings that tied behind her neck, across her back, and at each hip. The triangular cups were baby blue, as was the tiny patch covering her crotch in front. I could not see if it had a back, or was a thong, as she wore a thin, sheer white coverup that was unfastened in front. She walked over to the pool and dragged a toe through the cool water. The water looked really good, as I was now going for my third day roasting in the South Florida sun.

She smiled at the feel of the water, and started to shrug the robe off her shoulders. I took a few excellent shots. I had tested the new camera that morning, and the quality would be exceptional.

But then Kristie paused, and frowned, clutching the coverup across her chest. She looked around nervously, and shrugged the white garment back over her shoulders. She looked around, still missing me.

I wanted desperately to make a sound, or betray myself with movement, but I thought better of it. The me of the week before would never in a million years have voluntarily betrayed himself. I got a thrill of fear at the thought even now.

Kristie abandoned her thoughts of the pool and turned to go back inside, glancing around nervously as she went in.

Shit. My bitchy little playmate was leaving me dying out here. I loved every second of it. But I also left before dinner time, once more uncaught, and thoroughly teased and unfulfilled.

We had dinner, my parents and I, late and outside. Dinner was late because I had cooked. I had gotten ambitious and tried something new, and had had to appeal to my mother for help halfway through when I bricked the roux. We ate outside because my father had a presentation spread out all over the dining room table, and Mom forbade us from eating in front of the TV for the third night in a row.

My parents behaved themselves during dinner for once, which was glorious. My food was not glorious, but it was pretty decent, even if I had needed my mother's help toward the end. It was not my best work in the kitchen, and I resolved that the next time I took over in there, I was going to bear down and do something special. I had worked hard, living on my own, to get good in the kitchen.

After the meal, we hung around at the poolside table, enjoying a bottle of fruity, sweet Gewürztraminer. As the sun was setting in a mediocre display, we heard music coming from Kristie's yard.

"I don't usually hear her playing her music this late in the evening," my mother observed, not bothered by the sound, just interested in the anomaly.

I shrugged. "Well, it is her back yard. You never know when she might want to use it," I said idly. "Isn't that right, Dad?"

Mom was tidying plates and missed the look my father shot me. Then he looked over at the fence, then back at my mother. She stepped into his reach at that moment, and he pulled her down into his lap, eliciting a little shriek from her. She more than rolled with it, however, and she swiftly draped her arms around his shoulders and started kissing him hard. I could not see from my angle, but I could hear the tongue.

Nope.

"You guys enjoy the rest of the wine," I said, hastily rising. "I'm going to try to meet up with the guys." My mother just idly waved her had at me, not removing her lips from my father's.

Shit. Was his hand on her breast?

I got moving fast. They were never like this before. The Old Man must be getting more action than he had in years. He should be begging me to stick around this fall, not trying to get me to leave.

I hopped into my car and pulled out of the driveway. As I was turning around, it occurred to me that his randiness might have been triggered by the whole embarrassing incident with Kristie. Or had it been coincidental?

As I started down the street, I thought back on Kristie. It was unusual for her to be listening to music outside this late. For her, this was practically bedtime.

Bedtime...

Was the music meant for me to hear? My parents and I had made no effort to keep our voices down over dinner. It would be pretty reasonable to believe that she had known I was on the other side of the fence.

I pulled over into the little three space parking lot by our community pool, and left my car. Swiftly, I strolled back up the street along the sidewalk. As I approached Kristie's I could see that no front rooms had lights on, but there were clearly other spaces on both the ground and second floor that were illuminated. I cut casually in between our houses.

Fuck, my parents were still outside. I could... hear them.

Ew.

But at this point, I was able to block out thoughts of them. I approached the gate to Kristie's back yard, and silently lifted the latch. (I may have surreptitiously lubricated it a few days earlier.) I slid the gate open silently and stepped through the privacy fence. I moved to the corner of the house and peered around. The back yard lights were on, as was the music, but no Kristie.

Damn. I waited where I was, at the corner of the house itself, not moving over to the flower trellis this time.

"Let's go inside," I heard my mother say.

"Absolutely," my father agreed. "That boy needs a more active social life. He's been putting a serious crimp in our activities since he moved back in."

Wait. What I was seeing was reduced activity? Oh, God.

"He'll be off to Atlanta soon, and we can go back to fucking out here, under the stars," my mother said.

"He's gone out, we can do it now," my father growled.

My mother yelped like she had just been tickled. "Hey! No, Larry... No. What if he forgot something and comes back? No, we have a perfectly..." She cut herself off with another yelp. "Hey! Stop that. Just... okay, that's nice."

My father laughed.

"Inside," Mom said grimly. "Now."

"Inside what?" Dad asked.

Then I mercifully heard the door close.

I wanted to die. I might have gone ahead and spontaneously done so, but the thought of possibly seeing Kristie let me cling to life. I still banged my forehead silently against the trim of her house two or three times.

Suddenly, I heard her back door open, and I saw her step put into the back yard. She was no longer wearing the bikini, alas, just a bangingly tight pair of jeans and a loose teeshirt, the movement of which betrayed a lack of bra underneath. So hot.

But all she did was pick up that same book from before and look around as making sure she had everything. "Hey Siri," she called out. "Stop music."

The speakers fell silent, and she turned and went back inside. The outside lights turned out, leaving just the kitchen lights spilling out through the windows.

Shit.

She was headed to bed. Time to go. I'd missed my chance.

But I was desperately horny now. And the last thing I wanted was to go hang out at a bar, probably alone, with nothing to fill my thoughts and keep images of my parents at bay.

The lights were still on inside...

I stepped around behind Kristie's house, and snuck toward her kitchen window.

Then I saw that her back door was not fully closed...

Oh reeeaaally...

I ducked under the kitchen window and instead peeked in through the glass of her back door. She was rinsing out a wine glass and setting it by her sink. Then she turned and I watched her walk toward her stairs. When she reached them, my eyes riveted to her cute little round ass in those painted-on jeans, swaying with each step up the stairs.

My eyes stayed riveted for about three steps, before she suddenly pulled the teeshirt up and off over her head. She tossed her head, letting her tousled blonde hair settle back into place and accidentally dropped the shirt. She bent down to her side to grab it, giving me a fucking fabulous, nippletastic sideboob flash before straightening. Then she disappeared up the stairs.

I looked at the back door. It had to be an invitation. But it might not. Actually entering her house might be a step too far in our game. Probably not, but still...

I pushed it open silently and stepped in, crossing another line.

It had to have been an invitation, right?

But what if she had just forgotten to close it? I was very certain that she did not actually know that I was there...

I moved to the foot of the stairs, wondering what I needed to do to get up them stealthily. Then I heard a fucking wonderful sound. The shower was running. It would cover any noise I made on the stairs, and, well...

I still moved as silently as possible up the stairs. The door to the master bedroom stood open, but the lights were off in there. The only illumination for the room came from the open door to the bathroom within. Music came from inside, loud enough to be heard clearly over the water.

Here I Go Again, by Whitesnake.

It was the middle of the song by the time I reached the bathroom door and peeked in. I had missed the rest of her striptease, and that was all right by me. Her shower was a nice one, with a zero-threshold entrance that had no door or curtain, just two walls of clear glass overlapping to keep the water from spraying out. A huge overhead shower head that clearly had the flow restricter removed was complimented by body jets on opposite walls, and all were directed onto Kristie's naked, perfect body.

She was rubbing herself with a very sudsy bar of soap, and I was standing there, peeking in with a hard-on of titanium.

I had not brought my camera. But I still had my phone. I carefully took a picture or two with just the corner of the device around the jam. So hot. But I wanted some video. A quick touch on controls, and I poked the corner out to get some live action. But the angle was bad, and the video looked like shit. I pulled it back, started a new recording and slid the whole thing free of the corner and vertical. From where I hid, I could just see the screen, recoding images of her running the bar of soap over her smooth flat belly.

Oh yes.

But the thing I did not consider was that if the camera could see Kristie's belly, then she was facing in its direction.

The hand holding the soap dropped to cover her hairless crotch, while the other arm snapped up over her breasts. "So, my little pervy picture taker is back for more. And inside my house," she snapped angrily. "Get in here," she ordered.

Busted.

Fuck.

This was not a bad thing, of course. It was in fact the purpose of the exercise, but I had been feeling competitive.

I stepped around the corner, pocketing my phone and drinking her in. She remained under the shower head, entire body a mass of running rivulets of water cascading over her curves. Her hands did little to conceal her, and I was quite sure that that did not bother her. The one nipple that was completely uncovered was stiff as a dowel.

"Cover your eyes, you jerk!" she snapped. I snapped a hand up to my face instinctively. And I left my fingers obviously spread.

"So were you going to whack off in my hallway, like you did in my yard?" Kristie asked menacingly. "Were you going to leave your sticky spunk all over my wallpaper out there, like you did on my landscaping?" She squeezed a breast as she spoke. "You wanted me to see your jizz in my yard. You wanted me to know you came looking at me, didn't you?"

I nodded meekly.

"I'm surprised you didn't send me a video of you actually jerking off. Or didn't you want me to see what kind of tiny dick you have?" she scoffed.

Kristie knew I do not have a tiny dick. Apparently, we were starting things off from scratch. I could go with that.

"I just didn't think..."

"Of course you didn't think! Pervs don't think, they perv," she went on nastily. "Well, now's your chance. Drop your pants and show my how your beat your meat. If your tiny dick is actually big enough to entertain me, maybe I won't call the police on you. Do it!"

I fumbled at my fly. "Shirt first, douche," she snapped. "Give yourself at least some chance not to look pathetic."

I tugged at my shirt and pulled it off. I dropped it and, glancing nervously at her, resumed unzipping my pants. They dropped to the floor, leaving me in just my black boxer-briefs, which strained to contain my eager erection. The fabric over my tip was sticky.

"That shows promise. Drop 'em."

I tugged the underwear down, letting my thick six inches pop eagerly free.

"Maybe I won't be calling the cops," mused Kristie. "Whack it, perv-boy. Show me how you came on my poor Alocasia."

Honestly, I had a lot better things in mind that jacking off in the middle of a tile floor, out of reach of the heaven on the other side of that shower glass, but this was the game. I reluctantly grabbed my cock and started to pump. I may not have been interested in jacking off, but my cock felt at that point like it was a fine idea. The traitor.

"Closer. Come closer," Kristie demanded. "I can't see."

That was better. I stepped forward, trying very hard to pretend I was reluctant to do so, still stroking myself, until I stood just on the other side of the glass from her naked form. A form she had definitely begun to forget about covering.

She frowned. "You are going to make me have to put that bathmat in the wash when you come on it. Ew," she complained. "Come into the shower, so I don't have to clean up after your mess."

I stepped around the glass and into the steamy space with her, the spray immediately reaching out and hitting me here and there. I was still stroking myself, but only softly. My dick might want me to jack away, but it would have to wait.

"So now's your chance, you dirty peeping tom," Kristie said, spreading her hands completely away from her body. "A close up look. Is this what you wanted?"

I nodded, and whispered, "Yes."

"Is it all you could have asked for?" she said snidely.

I stifled a grin. I was not sure how she meant that question, but I know how I was going to answer it. "No," I whispered hoarsely.

"No?" That actually surprised her. She straightened her spine and ran her hands over her body, especially her breasts, slick still with sporadic patches of suds. "What more could you want than to see this?"

"To touch that," I said, clearing my throat.

She laughed. "Oh really," she purred, regaining control instantly. "Just like that, you want to touch me too? You just want to reach out," she went on, grabbing my hand from my cock, "and touch me like this?" She planted my hand firmly on a delicious tit. I immediately massaged it, circling her nipple with my thumb. She kept her hand's grip on my wrist, keeping my fingers in place. "Happy now?" she scoffed.

"No," I said, shaking my head and gulping.

"No?"

"No. I want you to touch me," I said, taking her other hand in mine and placing it around my cock, "like this." Those lovely fingers happily wrapped themselves around my shaft. With soft movements, she ran her grip up and down me gently.

We somehow simultaneously took half a step toward each other, ending up inches apart and both in the warm water coming from all sides.

"I'll bet this isn't all your pervy mind has thought about doing to me, is it?" she whispered to me, our lips so very close.

"No," I breathed.

"Then you better show me what you mean, so I can tell what a perv you really are," she growled.

What I wanted to do was spin her around, press her face up against the shower wall, tilt up that amazing ass, tuck my cock up between her legs, and give her the aggressive fucking my dick was earnestly lobbying for.

What I did, was grab the soap from the dish where she had put it, and started soaping her whole body. In short order, I had her entire torso covered in thick suds. She pulled the bar from my hand and went to work on me in turn. As the shower sluiced the soap away, I realized that she had a much more powerful water softener than my parents did. Her skin was so deliciously slick as the soap ran away. I might not have the soap anymore, but that did nothing to slow the way I massaged as much of her as I could reach.

She was much more focused. Having worked up an incredible lather in her hands, she was rubbing it all into my cock. I felt myself twitching, and grimaced.

"Oh, is little pervy boy going to come so soon?" Kristie cooed nastily. "I'd hate for you to be useless to me if you come too quickly. I guess you better be able to rise from the dead, of maybe I'll call the cops anyway." Her hand jacked me relentlessly. I was pretty sure that as long as I was in Kristie's naked presence, my cock was going to be good to go on a few moments notice indefinitely.

"Let's make it a test," she breathed into my face, her lips agonizingly close. But I sensed I was not to kiss her. Not at this point. "Let's see how hard I can make you come, and then we'll see if you are worth keeping around."

She sank down to her knees on the smooth tile floor, still working soap onto my shaft. She better rinse that off before she starts with her amazing oral skills, I thought. But instead, she only pulled me against her chest, rubbing my cock against her tits, then nestling it between their soapy mounds.

"Fuck them," she ground out between clenched teeth. "Fuck my titties. Fuck my awesome, expensive titties. Nut on them. Douse them like you doused my foliage. Show me how hot your perving has made you."

This was the first titfuck of my life, and let me assure you, I am forever a fan of the procedure. Her warm, wet, slick mounds trapped my cock, pressed together by her hands. My cock promptly, of its own accord, slid between them. The warmth, and the look on her upturned face, water dripping all over it, was incredible. She blinked the spray from her eyes repeatedly, and she could not keep the smile from her gorgeous face, no matter how hard she was trying. It was amazing.

It was also far more than my poor, wildly over-stimulated and hungry for days cock could take. In a distressingly short time, I came hard enough to dim my vision. The surging between my legs was incredible and even under the steady stream of hot water, I could see ribbons of jizz all over her chest.