Backyard MILF Ch. 04

This is the last entry in this series--at least, as far as I have planned. These is not much story left to be told after this, other than a lot of hot sex. Perhaps you can change my mind in the comments! I am not too proud to take ideas, if I can make them work for me.

I make no effort at including a TLDR, so readers are advised to start from the beginning, with chapter one.

As always, please know that in this story, as with the rest of my works, I am not going for realism here. I just try to achieve plausibly ridiculous.

Cheers, and enjoy the finale!

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THE BACKYARD MILF 4

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It had been a most interesting experience, describing every minute detail of my time with her co-worker to Kristie, all, as requested, with my dick firmly buried inside my blonde neighbor.

"Jesus! She is a freak!" Kristie had exclaimed, without a trace of irony in her voice as she ate up every detail while I plowed her from behind. The only drawback of the story-telling was how I needed to fight for breath to keep talking toward the end...

I was home and showered before either parent made it home from work. While I waited for them, I did prep for dinner. My mother had graciously allowed me to cook that Monday, and I was going to serve sous vide pork chops, browned in our deep fryer. I felt like it was a good night to once again take a shot at showing my parents that I really had learned to be an adult since going away to college in the first place.

While I prepped, I took the opportunity to rev up Kristie in advance of the next time I had a chance to spy on her.

I had done a little work on my laptop to curate, crop, and color-balance several of the best photographs I had so successfully taken of her and Patrice on the beach, editing together a little clip of them taking their tops off, filtered to look like grainy spy footage, instead of the perfectly clear spy footage it really was.

I held them all back though, in case I needed to really tease Kristie... or reward her.

Instead, I texted a glorious, ultra-high resolution shot of her sitting topless on the beach, soaking in the sun.

After I vacuum sealed the chops and a dose of their marinade, I texted her a photo of Patrice, similarly attired, with the word 'Bonus' attached.

I diced some veggies, and shot her a second photo of herself, rubbing sunscreen onto her bare tits. Those last three shots had to tell her where I had been sitting. I wondered if she would acknowledge that fact.

I got caught up with cutting and dropping the fries into the fryer to blanche them. I would give them a second drop in the oil right before we sat down to eat. When I was done, I found replies.

Kristie: Quit watching me, creep.

Kristie: This has to be you.

She then sent me a photo from her own phone, one I had not noticed her taking. She could do the sneaky bit as well, apparently.

There I was, sitting sideways to her on my beach towel, floppy hat covering my zinc-covered face, and that loose tee with the Ohio State logo on it, plain as day... And she had circled a dude thirty feet beyond me in a blue beach coverup and ball cap, playing with a radio or something.

Kristie: You must have a damned good lens in that 'radio', you perv. Don't you dare watch me any more.

I honestly giggled uncontrollably, and was still chuckling when my mother came into the house, home early from work. "You look industrious," she said, eyeing my preparations. "What have we here?"

"Nothing to concern you, lady," I said sternly. "Tonight, the kitchen is mine. Go make yourself a drink or something, and play some Candy Crush."

"I'll wait on the drink for your father," she said seriously. She looked out the back window. "I think I'll take a dip in the poo insteadl." She looked at me with a mischievous smile. "You father likes it when I'm having a dip when he comes home. Of course, he likes it a lot more when you are not in residence!"

"Mom! Not you too. Dad is bad enough."

She laughed, went to open the back door, then paused and turned to go upstairs. "I suppose I really ought to wear a suit today," she said, as if to herself.

"Mom!!!"

Yes, I had planned to save the video for later, but I needed to wash my mind clear of my mother's talk about sex with Dad. I shot the edited clip off to Kristen.

I'M WATCHING YOU, said the title credits, over a shot of the camera panning across them, unaware.

ALWAYS, it said, over an excessively blown-up closeup in slow motion of her lifting her bikini top free.

I added a similar clip of Patrice, peeling down her own suit top. AAND AYNONE WITH YOU, was the overlay.

I finished with another clip as the camera walked by them, this time with their tops off. ALWAYS WATCHING.

I shivered after watching it again. Sexy but just little creepy, especially since I had added no sound. I hope she liked it. I sent her the version with the film grain and digital noise, and in a very low resolution. I had a 4K version, of course, for my own enjoyment, but if the cards fell right, I might enjoy it with her.

I hoped she did not expect me to follow up my shenanigans tonight, because I was showing off for my parents. And it would be good to make her wait.

My father came home, and he must have caught sight of Mom out by the pool, reading. I looked out. Fuck, she was wearing that bikini again. When the hell had that become a thing?

Look. I am not attracted to my mother. I have a million problems, but that ain't one. I'm just acutely uncomfortable with the idea that she is a sexual being with... anyone. As I've said earlier, my parents are not air conditioning fanatics, and despite the heat, there were windows open.

"Having a dip? Nice," I heard my father say. "Where is he?" he asked in a lower tone.

"In the kitchen, making dinner like he threatened to yesterday."

"Oh goody. I'll stand by with the takeout menu from the Golden Wok then."

"Don't be an ass, Larry. He really did seem sure of himself," my mother said reprovingly.

Thanks Mom, a vote of parental support was nice.

"But yeah, keep the menu handy," she added, ruining the effect.

Once I had things staging up nicely, I asked Dad to make us all drinks and I did my final steps, getting everything to the table as hot as the Sidecars my father had whipped up were cold.

"Well, damn," my father said, after trying a bit of everything, then digging in hard to the pork. "How the hell did you cook these big, thick chops like this?"

"Sous vide," I shrugged, inwardly gloating.

"Well, duh," my father said. He is just young enough to have used that phrase when my age, and could carry it off without looking tragically like attempting hipness. "But the crust is amazing, and that is usually hard to pull off while keeping the inside uniformly done." I learned to cook from both my parents. As a kid, I had benefitted from their occasional competitiveness in the kitchen, at the dinner table and in my own culinary education.

"Actually, I'm curious about your method too," my Mom added, completely unironically this time.

I smiled. "I pat them real dry when they come out of the bag, and then deep fry them at a high oil temp before I back it back down to 350 to cook the fries for their second pass."

"Damn, boy," my father said, between mouthfuls. I was happy. Even the asparagus was roasted just right, and I had had my doubts about carrying that one off. "You cook like this for women, and you will be a very popular man at Emory."

"No way," I laughed. "I'd rather they know I'm set up well enough to pay for nice dinners than let them know I can cook."

"Why do you say that, for heaven's sake?" Mom exclaimed.

"Because if word gets around that I can cook, I'll be cooking all the damned time."

"I can see his point," Dad said to Mom. "Just as an example, he is going to cook a lot more from now on while he is still here."

Ugh.

"Still," my mother said, "I know you aren't looking for love at grad school, but if you do find one worth keeping, this kind of food will be very nice golden handcuffs."

"Shhh! Don't talk about the golden handcuffs in front of the boy," hissed Dad.

My food was too good to let Dad ruin my meal. I just ate in silence and tried not to let him see how that got to me. His laugh told me that I'd failed.

*

I just made myself a PB&J sandwich for lunch the next day, preparing to sneak over to Kristie's and hopefully 'get caught', once her workday was over. But when I peeked over before leaving the house, I saw that her car was not in her driveway.

Crap. She had gone out. She was allowed that, of course. She couldn't spend her every off hour prancing around naked for my perverted viewing pleasure, though I certainly wanted her to try. The problem was, I had gotten myself worked up. Worse, I had no idea when she would be back.

My father got home first that evening, finding me where I had spent the afternoon, on the couch in the living room by the front window where I could just see Kristie's driveway--the still empty driveway. On the plus side, I had finished my book, and was reading AdWeek on my tablet.

"Since when do you sit in the living room?" he asked.

"I haven't in forever," I shrugged. "Just felt like it."

He nodded. He got that I was doing things this summer just to have done them one more time. "Sounds good. Listen, I had a minor victory at work today, and I am taking your mother out to Bertilluchi's this evening to celebrate. I hope you do not mind that you are not invited."

"I am cut to the quick, Dad, but I would pass anyway on the opportunity to watch you nuzzle her out in public, thank you," I said drily. "I'll take care of myself, thanks."

He chuckled and made off to freshen up and get ready for Mom to get home.

Now I had the evening free. That meant there was still a chance today to hopefully have Kristie take care of my horniness. If it didn't happen, I was definitely going to need to 'take care of myself.' I read on, dumping AdWeek soon after, and indulged myself with funny videos on YouTube. Mom came home, was suitably pleased to be going out, got herself dolled up, and away the two went, even though their reservation was not for hours.

The only bad part of my life at that moment was that there was still no sign of Kristie's car. I was dying by the time it finally showed up, and the sun was already setting. It occurred to me that I had never spied on Kristie after dark. Hopefully this would be a cool new wrinkle, if she didn't just go to bed right away. She did have to get up at four every morning.

I finished the interview I was watching about the eternally-delayed new Aquaman movie. It wan't that interesting, but I wanted to make myself wait to draw out the anticipation. I also wanted Kristie to get settled into whatever she would be up to that evening, and hopefully start thinking about whether I might be out there, 'stalking' her. Alternatively, if she was going to go straight to bed, I wanted to be able to tell, so I wouldn't mess up her sleep. I was horny, not inconsiderate.

The video ended at last, and I got off the couch, stretching. I grabbed my good camera, just in case. A good perv is ready in case something particularly worth photographing comes along, right? I had really build up my anticipation at least, and I stepped out the front door, looking around for a second, then looped quickly around the side to slip in through her now always ajar side gate.

There were no lights on outside, but light did pour out from the rear windows of the house on the first floor. Nice. I had never spied at night before, and I had never successfully spied on her inside her house from outside before. Hopefully she was cooking herself a late dinner. At the very least, there seemed to be motion in the light coming from the kitchen.

I slid slowly around and up the steps of her low deck. It took forever to move stealthily and keep below the window sills to get into position. I was hoping to be caught tonight, but I hoped not immediately. And I wanted it to be at least plausibly accidental when I did.

I peeked up over the windowsill of the kitchen, and almost immediately gave myself away. I was feeling physical pain at restraining my gleeful voice and my physical urge to dance a jig. I had never actually danced a jig before, and had no idea how, but my body really wanted to try.

Kristie was indeed in the kitchen, and indeed cooking dinner. But she could not have more obviously wanted to be spied on that evening if she'd hung a sign out front that read, 'Free Peep Show In Rear.' She had a surprisingly utilitarian apron on that was nevertheless the single greatest garment in history, because it was the only garment she wore. The apron tied around behind her at the base of her back, and wrapped across her front down to the knees. It covered her hips as well, but left her gorgeous, tight, bubbly little ass completely exposed, but for the dangling strings of the tie, one of which nestled neatly between her cheeks. The bib of the apron looped around the back of her neck and while nominally covering her chest, the side boob was unbelievably extensive, and excruciatingly hot.

She had music playing quietly in the kitchen, and was dancing to it as she prepped some simple dish. I could hear the music clearly, as she had even left her back windows open half-way. That meant that I could take pictures without dusty glass to reduce the quality.

Oh, fuck yes, tonight would be epic.

I lifted the camera and took a shot. One shot.

"Reggie! Is that really you? What are you doing?" came a voice from behind me.

Things did not register immediately in my head. I dropped down from the window instinctively, not wanting to be seen by Kristie when she reacted to the voice outside. But I was already comprehending that getting caught by Kristie was not going to be my issue that night. I had been seen by someone else.

My head whipped in the direction of the voice and things got worse. Frankly, I could tell instantly that they could not have gotten any more worse than this. In the moment, I found myself wishing that it had been my mother, for chrissakes.

I saw Sandy Fucking Hammond--the chief tattletale of the neighborhood. She was walking determinedly toward me, up onto the deck from the same direction that I had come earlier, between me and escape through the gate. Not that escape was any longer an option. She was genuinely shocked and upset, but I could also see that little fucking gleam you see in the eyes of a narc when they know they have a juicy situation at hand.

Crap. I was done for, but I needed to make sure that at least Kristie could retain plausible deniability. She almost certainly had heard Sandy and bolted, but if not...

I raised my voice. "Sandy! What brings you over here?"

"What brings me? What brings you?" Sandy exclaimed. I could just hear that snitch's glee warring with the genuine anger in her voice.

"Uh, my parents are out for the evening, and I thought I'd come say hi, instead of watching TV by myself."

"Pull the other one, Reggie. Is that why you are cowering down under Ms. Gaines's kitchen window?"

"You startled me!"

"With a camera?!" she added hotly, warming to her role as avenging angel. "Is that why you were pointing a camera into her house and... were you touching yourself?"

"I was not touching myself!" I lied hotly. I had definitely been touching myself. But only a little! It is hard to operate a really good camera one-handed.

"What are you spying on anyway? Is she just making dinner or what? What's giving you jollies about that?" Sandy sneered. "Did she just have a swim? Even in those boring bathing suits she wears, she looks pretty good. Is that what you wanted to see?"

This conversations was going south fast... and it had started in Argentina.

"I can't believe that you are such a perv. I can't believe that we have a perv living in our neighborhood!" she exclaimed, now thoroughly enjoying her anger. "I can't wait to hear what Kristie has to say!"

"Oh, so she is 'Kristie' now?" I snapped.

"Ha! Kristie!" Sandy called toward the house. "Kristie, you should come out here and see this. You were being spied on!" Fuck. I hoped the Spearmans on the other side were not home. At least Kristie would have had the time by now to slip out of the kitchen. I would not have to deal with her having to pretend outrage at me, at least not until she had gotten properly dressed.

The back door swung open inward and Kristie stepped out languidly to the porch, leaning back against the door frame. She had most definitely not changed her outfit. All that side-boob at least had the virtue of shutting Sandy up cold.

"Well, hello Sandy," Kristie said sternly. "I certainly did not expect you to be back here this evening."

Sandy's eyes were falling out of her head, staring at our neighbor in that apron. She clearly was only now coming to grips with just how great a body Kristie had--and it was impossible to miss that body right now. And coming to grips with that was hard, what with all the coming to grips Sandy was doing: coming to grips with having caught a peeping tom, coming to grips with being confronted herself by her half-naked neighbor, and coming to grips with not hearing any shrieking or outrage from said neighbor about all the other mind-bending revelations she was coming to grips with... unsuccessfully. Her mouth worked wordlessly. Getting a grip was not happening.

Despite the general shittiness of the situation, which had not been materially improved by Kristie's appearance (I mean, her appearance improves everything, but...), it was a minor pleasure to see Sandy's mouth hanging open, working noiselessly in shock.

"You seem upset, Sandy," Kristie said, her voice still quietly confrontational. I knew her well enough by now to know that she was anything but calm. I did not know how she did it.

"I... He..." She pointed at me. "He was peeping on you, Ms. Gaines!"

She shrugged. "Oh Reggie? We have a little game we play," she said off-handedly. "I'm more concerned on why you are in my backyard uninvited, young lady."

That brought the little bitch up short. "I... I was back here because I saw a prowler. I saw him!" She pointed at me defensively.

"A likely story. I think you wanted a little excitement of your own," Kristie told her sternly. Then she shook her head and relaxed a little. "I suppose we don't have to tell your parents this time."

"Tell mine? What about...? Wait!" she almost wailed.

Kristie took a step toward her, which exposed her entire back and backside to me. Again, shitty situation, wonderful element. Kristie reached out and grasped our snitch's upper arm, none too gently. Sandy's eyes widened at her half-naked neighbor touching her, much less grabbing her. "As I said, Reggie was invited, unlike you. He and I play a little game. It's just for fun. He spies on me, I spy on him."

She was telling her about us? Wait... what was this about her spying on me?

"It was about to be my turn when you showed up and rather ruined the mood," Kristie said grimly, but with an emerging touch of wry humor. "It really was inappropriate for you to have come back here, but I suppose you thought you meant well." Sandy actually nodded spastically, eyes wide. Kristie paused. "I tell you what, you can take a look as we try to get things going again," she added as if she had just conceived of the idea. "You will see how groundless your self-important feelings were, and I won't have to tell your parents to make sure it doesn't happen again.

Sandy wanted to bristle at 'self-important', but quickly deflated at the repeated threat to tell her parents. I knew damn good and well that the last thing Kristie was going to do was talk to Sandy's parents, but I also remembered how terrifying the thought had been to me.