Backyard MILF Ch. 03

A text appeared on my phone from Kristie.

Kristie: I hope you stuck around after those photos. I want to see what you are getting now...

Me: No. I left. Why?

Kristie: You left? Shit!

Me: Gotcha. You look even more glorious now.

Kristie: Bastard. Bet you like Patrice's current look, too

Me: It is a lovely bonus. Thank you.

Kristie: You are welcome for the show, perv. Welcome to the view of her, too

Her too? Well, Patrice was indeed a sight.

Kristie: Got video?

Me: Of the whole disrobing. Did I say thank you already?

I saw Kristie snort.

Patrice leaned over. "Your friend is making you laugh," she observed drolly.

I watched as Kristie casually tilted her phone so her suddenly interested co-worker could not see it, without it looking like she was hiding anything.

"He is drooling over someone new," she smirked.

"Alas pour tu!"

"This guy is just a buddy, Patrice," my fuck-buddy said dismissively.

The husband next to me was whispering in his wife's ear. She smiled at him, scandalized, even giving him a light shove. He shrugged. Their little daughter just kept making a surprisingly advanced sandcastle, for a pre-schooler.

Kristie: I'm going to want to see that video next week

Me: I'll have it edited up for posterity.

Kristie: Make sure you get plenty of good shots of Patrice, you perv

Me: Her?

Kristie: Don't be an ass. She's hot. You will regret it later if you don't!

I was pretty sure that she was looking around for me, and despite that fact that I was sitting right in her field of vision, she hadn't picked me out. Or if she had, she was very good at concealing that fact. She seemed to be enjoying the frustration of not being able to identify me without making it obvious to Patrice that she was looking for someone. As far as she knew, I could be anywhere, in any direction.

I did make sure to shift the bag a little and get some extra shots that focused exclusively on Patrice. Kristie was right, I'd have regretted not taking these.

I was just about to shift back and get some more shots of my neighbor, when Patrice decided to stretch. She sat up straight, raised her hands over her head and twisted back and forth, working out some kink in her neck or back. Oh these were very nice pictures!

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the husband tying himself into knots, trying not to look like he was staring. His wife was buying none of it. She reached out toward him slowly, deliberately, and the fact that he did not react at all illustrated how focused his attention was elsewhere. She pinched his ass!

"Hey!" he yelped, turning to her. "What was, uh, what was that for?"

Dumbass comeback, dude.

"Really?" she hissed at him quietly.

He looked away from Patrice and shrugged at his wife, his expression part sheepish, and part, 'What do you expect from me?'

"You want a show? You are watching the wrong one," she said.

"The wrong show?" he asked confused.

"Yeah. Watch this one," his wife replied, and with just a tremor, undid her own bikini top and lifted it aside. The daughter giggled in reaction for a moment, then went back to her castle.

The dad was transfixed.

Let me say, Kristie and Patrice were hotter... but this little MILF, who I had not really examined before... had it going on as well. She was not a stunner, with a few extra pounds here and there, and a plainish face. But while I have no idea of their original looks, the post-childbearing condition of her boobs was outstanding. They were heavy, but firm, and dangled enticingly. Her aureoles were large and dark, and her nipples were also meaty and very, very hard.

Her husband looked like he'd been hit with a cattle prod. Then he looked around frantically. And then his attention was riveted on his lovely wife. Just like she had wanted. Their daughter just obliviously focused on constructing her curtain wall.

Adding to the exciting nature of the scene before me was that, combined with the byplay I had seen before, the milky white color of her newly exposed skin told me that I was seeing this woman expose her tits in public for the first time in her life. Maybe the first time she had exposed them outdoors at all.

"That is cruel," the dad said softly.

"Cruel?"

"Yeah. You know what I want to do right now, and I can't."

She laughed, and went back to her book. But I saw her looking around at the beachgoers near by, searching for who was staring at her... appreciating her.

I looked away before she surveyed in my direction. But she was indeed getting looks from several directions--an impressive feat with Kristie and Patrice so near by.

I consulted my phone intently. There were too many bare tits, ranging from enchanting, to lovely, to drool-worthy, demanding my gaze. I wanted to be nondescript, and not draw any attention in return.

I also wanted a picture of the MILF, but that was hard. Adjusting my beach bag enough to get her in frame might seem obvious.

I sat forward and rummaged in my bag for a Coke. I was thirsty for sure, but mostly I wanted to shift the bag so the camera pointed at the mom. I was becoming quite the perv photographer.

I got some good photos, and even some brief video before the mom chickened out. She didn't put the top back on, but she did lie down on her chest.

Nice ass, too--if a little generous...

I read my phone for a while for real, then got up, grabbed all my stuff, and wandered off, back toward my car. I got a great panorama video shot as I stood of all three scenic wonders nearby, and I left the camera running as I ambled back to my car. I got a view or two worth capturing on the way.

I walked back toward where I had parked, feeling satisfied. I had done my work. Kristie would be well happy with my antics the next time I peeped. If she caught me... it would be awesome.

About the time I got back to my car, a good twenty minutes later, another text from Kristie hit my phone.

Kristie: Are you still around to see THAT just now?

Me: See what?

Kristie: You really did leave this time! No way you don't know what I'm talking about, otherwise

Me: What?!?

I received only silence going forward.

Fuck.

I drove home, my imagination intruding on every thought.

I realized that this was an easy thing to do. I could walk these beaches and get all sorts of great images, even more if I came home to visit during the really crowded weekends during the European tourist season. But I didn't really see myself doing it. The random topless chicks were nice, but I didn't get that peeping thrill. What got me truly excited was observing Kristie, whom I knew. And Patrice, whom I knew about. And even the mom, since I felt like I had gotten to somehow know the couple as I watched their little byplay.

Kinks come in all forms, I guessed. And let's face it. There was nothing abnormal about enjoying the view of topless Kristie and Patrice. That dad and I were hardly the only occupants of the beach who did.

*

At dinner that evening, my mother's phone rang. She is a salesperson--she always answers it, even at the dinner table.

"Hello? Oh, hi Kristie! What can I do for you?" Mom said, then listened for a bit. "Tomorrow night? Sure, I guess. Why not? We are free. Sounds interesting. Reggie? Sure, I'll ask him. Nice of you to include him."

Mom covered the microphone on her phone and addressed me. "Ms. Gaines has a houseguest for the weekend. A co-worker from France no less," she announced to my father. "She says that she is already running out of ways to entertain the woman and wants to know if you and I would come over for drinks after dinner tomorrow so they aren't just sitting on the couch and watching Netflix."

An image of Patrice and Kristie, Netflix-and-Chilling on her couch briefly tantalized my imagination. "She said that you are welcome to come along too, if you like, Reggie."

"Come on," Dad said. "This is what adults do, you know. Help each other out with imposed guests."

Dad had seen the 'imposed guest'... he grinned at me.

I shrugged. This was Kristie's game, whatever it was. I was certainly not going to refuse to play. "I wish I had an excuse like a date to beg off with," I sighed.

I wanted to text Kristie for further info, but I sensed that she might not answer me. Had she wanted my input, she'd have asked for it to begin with.

*

The next night, as we prepared to go next door, my father grabbed a better than average bottle from the wine closet, and slid it into one of the stash of bottle gift bags he and Mom kept for such occasions. "Did you think to bring anything, Reggie?" he asked, like the asshole life instructor that he is, clearly expecting to catch me out.

But he is a good asshole life instructor, and I had been given this lesson before. I stepped into the den, returning with a large tropical bouquet of flowers in a vase that I had gone out that afternoon and purchased as a hostess gift for Kristie, along with a smaller, hand-held bundle of red roses for her guest. "Something like these?" I asked innocently.

"Wow, Reggie!" Mom exclaimed. "Those are a bit magnificent. You might be going a bit over the top, just to show up your father."

Dad just looked at me skeptically. "Spoiler alert," he said to Mom. "He and I saw the guest when she arrived on Thursday. She's quite the looker."

Mom just looked at me and smiled, "Oh ho! Aren't you the operator, Reggie? Nice touch, going with the bigger arrangement for Ms. Gaines. You will have this Frenchwoman jealous of your affections before she's known you ten seconds."

"Honestly," I said loftily, "as the local representative of American Youth, I just want to put our nation's best foot forward."

Dad looked at Mom. "I think he believes his own bullshit half the time."

"Why not? You believe yours all the time," she laughed. "It's a nice gesture, Reggie," she said firmly to me.

And away we traipsed, to next door. I maneuvered myself front and center at the door before Kristie answered it. Her eyes lit up at the large arrangement of Birds of Paradise, etc. "Reggie! Those look wonderful," she exclaimed.

"I just wanted to say thank you for inviting me along," I said, handing the vase to her. That revealed the spray of roses that I also held. "I brought some flowers for your guest as well."

Kristie lifted an eyebrow at that briefly. But all she did was step backward into her living room and say to all three of us, "Well come in and meet her, then." She rested the heavy arrangement on the entry table, where it looked very nice, and turned to gesture at Patrice, who stood in the doorway to the kitchen. "This is Patrice, everybody. Patrice, these are my neighbors, Larry and Colleen, and their son Reggie."

"Bon soir," she said. "It is kind of you to provide re-enforcements for Kristie in her efforts to keep the foreigner entertained!"

Conversation was fluid, and the evening got going well.

Kristie was dressed in her usual, middle-aged look, with loose trousers and a flowing silk blouse in a tropical print. It was the sort of outfit that looked typically south Florida suburban, while artfully obscuring what a gorgeous figure she possessed. It was her public face, and seeing her wearing it just reminded how lucky I was to have seen her private self.

Patrice looked very French, in the best possible way. She wore tight, yellow capri pants that accentuated her long legs, slender thighs, and sleek ass, which somehow seemed voluptuous beneath her narrow waist. Up top, she had a black, short-sleeved turtleneck sweater on that understatedly emphasized her modest but elegant bust. Put a headscarf and an oversized pair of dark glasses on her and she would have looked straight out of a 50's Parisian art print of a cafe patron.

She also charmed Mom and Dad equally, which was fine by me. Eventually, Patrice was entertaining my parents with some story about French ski resorts, leaving Kristie and me to chat off to the side.

"She is pretty, isn't she?" Kristie observed. "How did your pictures of her turn out?"

"Fucking awesome," I replied brazenly. "And why are you so into me drooling over her? Do you have designs for the three of us?"

"Piss off with your threesome talk here," Kristie laughed quietly but quellingly. "As far as Patrice is concerned, I'm a stodgy American woman who uncharacteristically got her tits out on the beach yesterday. And she's French, so that barely even registered as unusual in her mind. As far as she knows, I'm still that boring American woman. And I'd like her to keep thinking that," she added firmly.

"Certainly, Ms. Gaines," I chirped innocently. "She'll hear no different from me. Why should she?"

Kristie snorted. "Exactly."

"This is a lovely evening we are having, but if threesomes are tragically off the menu, what are you up to?" I asked, keeping my conspiratorial tone out of my body language.

"What makes you think I'm up to anything?"

"I'm beginning to understand that you are always up to something," I smiled back.

"Maybe, but tonight is all about my guest." Kristie paused, giving me a sly smile. "She has subtly, but in no uncertain terms, made it clear that she had wistfully hoped for some American dick before she headed home. She found none to be had, or worth having, last night after the beach when we went bar hopping."

I just looked at Kristie. "Don't look at me," I protested. "The only two guys I know around here are as young as me, and neither of them are up to standard for a babe like her."

"I don't think you understood me," she said with a dry smile. "For what it is worth, you are the very best American dick that I am acquainted with right now."

I just looked at Kristie.

I confess that this was confusing.

"Uhh..." I replied intelligently.

"Reggie," Kristie said flatly, "please be reassured that your little beach camera stunt, which I still can't figure out how you pulled off, by the way, has me fully hot and bothered. My crotch is a bit damp even now as I speak about it. I fully expect you to 'spy' my brains out once Patrice goes home." That certainly improved my outlook on life. "But for now, I'm the just the neighbor lady. She is the horny French hottie visitor." She looked sideways at my parents and Patrice. "Unless you want her trying to take your father to bed, and maybe your mother for all I know, you might want to get into the game."

I might have actually looked hurt for a moment. The idea of being fibbed off on someone else hurt enough to insulate me from her teasing reference to Dad.

"Reggie," my delicious MILF said seriously, "For what it is worth, I have a date Friday. A real one. Patrice may have struck out, but I at least got a phone number. The chances of my bringing him home afterward are Slim and None, and Slim left town ahead of a posse, but for the record, my person and property are serious, no shit off-limits Friday night, okay?" It was a reminder that we were not a couple.

Yikes! I had actually needed that reminder for a moment. My perceptions had drifted a little askew.

I actually felt relived at her words... except I now focused on the idea of Patrice trying to seduce both my parents.

"I guess I need to get to work," I said fervently.

She laughed. "Honestly, your parents' dubious virtue is probably safe. She is just a little horny. But I thought you ought to be aware of the opportunity." Her eyes twinkled. "If you end up with reason to thank me later, I expect your gratitude to be... extravagant."

So my fuck-buddy wanted me to try to nail her smoking hot, horny, French co-worker.

All right then.

I may have plumbed Kristie's physical depths quite thoroughly, but clearly there were mental depths left unmeasured. In the meantime, I like to do favors for my friends. I'm a giver that way...

"Larry, Colleen," Kristie said suddenly, moving toward my parents. "I do have one serious thing to talk to you guys about tonight. It's the HOA elections,"

"Oh no!" Dad said, throwing his hands up in mock horror. "Are you actually running for the board?"

"God, no!" Kristie laughed. "But I do want to make sure that Glenda doesn't get elected again..."

"We are in," Mom said instantly. "What is your plan?"

My parents hate Glenda Fellowes. Well, hate is a very strong word... They view the woman as a taste that they do not wish to acquire. They and Kristie wandered off across the room, chatting intently.

"And a conspiracy is born," I observed to Patrice, who was left standing with me.

"What is an HOA?" she asked.

"The natural habitat of the Lesser American Busybody," I snarked. She cocked an eyebrow. "HOAs are an insanely boring subject to be honest--one that I will probably care a lot about when I own my own home, but for now... they are painfully uninteresting as conversational fodder."

"You sound like someone who is trying to avoid a Socialist poetry reading," Kristie's guest laughed.

"I guess that France has its own hazards," I chuckled, extravagantly shuddering at the threat of being trapped in a dark room full of cigarette smoke and wannabe communists who can't comprehend rhyme, meter, or economics. "Would you like another glass of wine and maybe keep me company outside, lest they drag me into a conspiracy against the neighborhood bitch?"

"Certaiment!"

At Kristie's bar, I observed, "I'm surprised she put out New Zealand wine for a French guest."

"I will tell you a secret," Patrice said with a grin. "I am not much for wine. I mostly drink gin, like my Roast Beef work colleagues!"

I looked at her with a smile. "Done," I said, spooning ice into two low tumblers from Kristie's collection, and adding a healthy splash of Beefeaters's to each.

"Tonic?" Patrice asked.

"I don't see any," I said.

"Good."

We took our glasses and walked into the backyard.

"You seem old to live with your parents," she observed, a bit of challenge in her voice.

"I am taking an opportunity to spend time with them before I start an MBA program in a month or so... in marketing."

"Ah! That is our field," Patrice said, meaning herself and Kristie.

"I know. 'Kristie and I have talked about her job a bit," I said, walking away from the house into the dark.

"So you are a future competitor," she said, in offhanded challenge.

"Or a future boss," I replied bombastically. Then I shrugged, "Or more likely, a future assistant."

"You are too modest," she said, almost pro forma.

"You like modest assistants?" I asked with a half smile.

"Perhaps I like modest bosses," she said back.

We found ourselves facing each other in a dark corner of the back yard, far from the illumination of the pool.

I looked at her quietly in the darkness. I have always felt that I was reasonably well equipped to banter with the opposite sex, but my recent play with Kristie seemed to have endowed me with some next level chutzpah.

"Whatever, just so long as you don't try to be modest," I said earnestly, 'thinking in the back of my head about her rather spectacular immodesty on the beach.

"Modesty is not allowed?"

"Not when one is as sensational as you," I said matter of factly.

That stopped her cold, but only for a second. She actually fanned herself as if embarrassed. "Well, Monsieur MBA Student, I think you understand marketing already!"

She was smiling broadly. I felt pretty certain I could trust Kristie's intelligence regarding her desires.

"I hope so," I chuckled throatily, "because I have an exciting variety of goods and services I'd like to offer you."

"I was mistaken, monsieur. You are not too modest at all!"

I shrugged. I looked into her eyes with an easy good nature and asked. "May I kiss you?"

Without missing a beat, she said, "A bien sûr."