Coming Of Age

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He becomes a man with the help of a neighbor.
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A middle aged woman and a geeky young man back in the 70's...

***

I had made the trip from the little cottage across the street and about 50 feet down countless times but never faster than that afternoon in June of 1976. After I sprinted blindly from our neighbor's back yard, a yard I had mowed for the last four years - not even watching for cars on the rarely traveled gravel road - I ran into our house and closed the door. Closed it and locked it and then looked through the blinds for what was about to happen.

What that was I didn't know. All I did know was that I was in deep shit. When my folks found out what I had just been caught doing - well, let's just say that while I would be headed halfway across the country for college come August, the next two months would be hell.

My parents were probably stricter than most, especially my mother who was a holy roller with lofty moral standards that nobody but her seemed to reach, but even my old man wouldn't care for this.

***

It all happened because I had forgotten my wallet at our neighbors house. I had set it on the shelf of the little shed where the mower was stored because I tend to sweat like a pig when I mow, especially on hot days like today, and that gets my wallet soggy.

I always remember it because when I put the neighbor's mower away, and I mean always. After all, it's right there next to the door I push the mower back in the shed. Today, I forgot, and I don't know how or why. All I do know is that my life was ruined.

It was all Mrs. Audi's fault. Mrs. Audi was the neighbor lady who I had spent all of my teenage years doing favors for. Mowing her lawn in the summer, shoveling her walk in the winter and going to the store whenever she needed something.

I admit I didn't like doing it at first. It was my Mom's idea, and she explained that I should be nice to the lady because she had been through a lot and didn't have anybody around to help her.

What that meant I wasn't sure, although I do remember a lot of yelling coming from across the street when I was younger and then I remember a police car stopping at the Audi house. After that, there was no sign of Mr. Audi. I didn't understand it then but as the years passed I figured a lot of it out.

So for the last five years I mowed and shoveled but I didn't need to be prodded by Mom anymore. I had grown fond of the little woman and I thought she had been fond of me too. That was before that afternoon, and if she hadn't left her bedroom window open I wouldn't have been cowering behind of door waiting for either Mrs. Audi to charge across the street and for the police to pull up outside. Which would be worse? I wasn't sure.

"What are you up to?" came the voice of my mother from behind me, scaring the crap out of me. "Playing cops and robbers?"

"What? No," I said, shaking my head in wonder.

I'm 18, not 8, and it never seemed to register with my mother that even though I didn't look it I was a grown man. maybe it would register when I packed my bags and went off to college soon, but until then I was her little Tyler.

"Well, you look like a mess. Did you do Mrs. Audi's lawn?" she asked, and after I assured her it had been taken care of she told me to go take a shower before supper.

I went up the stairs to my bedroom, keeping my eye on the Audi house until I began to think maybe Mrs. Audi wasn't going to come over to tell my mother what a pervert her son turned out to be, so I went to the bathroom and stood under the spray where I did most of my best thinking.

****

The bedroom window and the flowered curtain that waved lightly with the breeze. Why wasn't the window closed? Probably because the Audi house, like every other one in our less that prosperous village, had no air conditioning so having closed windows on days like today would make the house stifling.

Okay, maybe it wasn't Mrs. Audi's fault that the window was open, but the rest of it was her fault. If she hadn't been making those noises, I wouldn't have been compelled to go over to the window and look in. I thought she was calling for help or was sick, so it was only natural that I would go over to check.

Also not exactly accurate. I may have been the most naïve and socially awkward 18 year old on the planet but even I knew the sounds Mrs. Audi was making didn't indicate she needed help. She sounded like Mom did that day when I came home early from school and caught Mom and Dad having a matinee.

Still, what I saw what Mrs. Audi was doing? You don't do that sort of thing when a kid is around mowing your lawn. She must have wanted to be caught and with me being an average teenager with raging hormones, what would you expect?

The problem with that theory was that I had been done with the lawn and had left twenty minutes earlier, only returning to retrieve my wallet, so that left Mrs. Audi free of blame. There was only one person wrong here, and that was me.

I scrubbed away in the middle of what was going to be the longest shower in history, and my washing was becoming focused in a particular area as my train of thought changed from how the incident happened to what I saw when the curtain billowed open.

Regrets? Yes. I regret getting caught. If I had stayed where I was I would never have been nailed, but when I walked up on the metal storm door to get a better look that became my downfall. Curiosity killed the cat, right?

The moans. Just hearing Mrs. Audi groaning and carrying on while speaking in tongues or Italian - whatever it was - that was erotic enough. I could have used my imagination and let Mrs. Audi provide the soundtrack but instead I inched up so I could look through the curtain.

My imagination was vivid in many ways but when it came to girls it was extremely limited. I had only had one real girlfriend my entire life and that had never gotten very far. Out here in the sticks the houses were few and far between and my senior class had only graduated 18, with only 8 of the dozen and a half being girls. Do the math, especially when you're a runt and not all that attractive like I was.

Naked women? I had seen a few in a friend's copy of Playboy that he "borrowed" from his old man but as far as real live females? Zero. I did catch my Mom coming out of the shower once but I hid my eyes and ducked back into my bedroom before I saw much of anything.

So as I inched up the slanted storm door I was hoping to see a naked Mrs. Audi. Maybe she had a "gentleman caller", which is what Mom called some guy that apparently visited the widow Franklin down the road a way, but I had never seen anybody visit Mrs. Audi's house.

Another step up the door and there she was. Not naked but definitely not looking anything like she usually did. Mrs. Audi was on her back in the bed with the blouse she had been wearing earlier still mostly on but very rumpled but below the waist she was naked, with her slacks and panties on the end of the bed.

That's what a pussy looks like, I recall thinking as I strained to get a better look. The ones in Playboy looked nothing like this, because those women had trimmed little triangles of hair if they had any at all, and from what I could see Mrs. Audi's was anything but trimmed and furthermore there was something going in and out of it.

It was humming and was white, standing out very clearly because of the black jungle of hair that surrounded it. Mrs. Audi was on her back with her feet tucked up toward her butt and her legs were spread wide, and she was slipping it in and out of her pussy with her right hand while her left was up under her blouse.

Perfect. I had a perfect view of everything. Mrs. Audi had nice legs, I recall noting as I took one more little step in an effort to see how far down between her legs that amazing bush grew.

One small step for man one giant leap for mankind, I think Neil Armstrong had said a few years earlier. My quote that day was one stupid step and I screwed myself royally because my foot must have hit just the right spot on the middle of that metal door because there came a loud "BONG" sound from where my foot landed as the metal complained about me steeping on it. The door was fine but I wasn't.

I knew that the sound was loud enough to be heard inside, since Mrs. Audi's upper torso jerked upright when she heard it. Right then there was a gust of wind that had the curtains fluttering open even wider, and the result of this was me and Mrs. Audi ending up staring at each other.

I don't know what my face looked like but I saw the look of shock and horror on poor Mrs. Audi's face as we looked through the open window at each other until I bolted, running through the yard and across the street while cursing my stupidity every step of the way.

***

My hand had dropped the soap in the shower by this point in my mental review of my adventure and was slowly stroking my cock as I thought about Mrs. Audi and her hairy pussy. Maybe I could even things up by offering to let her watch me jerk off, I remember thinking in a perverse moment, since I did it nearly every day.

The hair looked so thick that I wondered whether it was kinky and coarse like mine, or maybe it was was soft as a cloud. Whatever it was there was a lot of it and I decided I liked that better that the ones that only had a little fur around the opening.

***

My mind went back many years to when I happened to be watching Mrs. Audi put clothes on the line while I mowed around her. My eyes had drifted to her upraised arm when the short sleeve rode up toward her shoulder a bit and I was shocked at what I saw.

I asked my old man about this later, and the conversation was typical of the way you learned the facts of life around the Taylor household in the 70's.

"Dad?" I said when I found him in the garage monkeying around under the hood of our creaky old Ford Falcon. "How come Mrs. Audi has hair under her arms? Mom doesn't."

That wasn't exactly true since Mom's armpits usually looked like my Dad's face did if he didn't shave for a couple of days, but that wasn't the point.

"She does, huh?" Dad said with a smile. "Maybe it's because she's Italian?" he mused, pronouncing it "eye-talian" before offering another possibility. "Then again, maybe it's like why your mother doesn't dust under the bed."

"Huh?" I said.

"I don't know. Go ask your mother," the old man said, and that ended that enlightening conversation because asking my mother something like that would subject me to an endless sermon that might end up with me being sent to the priest for counseling again.

Replaying that last ancient image of poor Mrs. Audi putting the clothes on the line sent me over the edge, because I felt too guilty about spying on her earlier to enjoy that image just yet. I came just in time because I was running out of warm water in the shower. I made sure my cum went down the drain before turning off the water, and as I dried off I made a mental note to go over and apologize to Mrs. Audi if she or the cops didn't show up that night.

***

No police stopped by that night or any other night either, and neither did Mrs. Audi show up at the door to tell my folks about their precious little pervert.

I didn't go over to apologize either even though I had told myself I would. I avoided going back the Audi house as well, and when I would have to bicycle past to the store I made sure I was going at top speed and stared straight ahead. After a week of that avoiding I figured I was in the clear.

What did that mean? It meant that during my morning masturbation routine in the shower my mind could replay that scene of watching Mrs. Audi on her bed. Between that, along with her clothesline scene and thinking about the other two objects of my teenage lust, Karen Valentine of the show Room 222 and Adrianne Barbeau of the show Maude, I had a fresh image every morning.

Until Tuesday that is. I had spent much of the day down at the ball field playing pick-up baseball and after pedaling past the Audi house I entered my place and ran into my mother who was at the sink

"Oh Tyler? Mrs. Audi was over here before," Mom said and at hearing that my stomach flipped, although Mom didn't seem mad.

"Yeah?"

"Yes. She was hoping you could stop at the store for her but I told her you had just gone to play ball."

"Oh. Too bad."

"That's okay. You can go tomorrow. After all, you're going to have to mow her lawn tomorrow anyway," Mom informed me. "With the rain last weekend she says it's really getting high in back."

"Oh," I said while I tried to think of a reason why I couldn't do it.

"You're such a good boy," Mom said, pinching my cheek like she had done since I could remember. "There's a special place in heaven for angels like you."

I nodded and ran up to my room, looking over at the Audi home and the grass that couldn't stop growing no matter how much I wished for it, and as I looked over I thought about what Mom said.

A special place in heaven for me? That got me to chuckle as I thought about what that special place must be like, full of chronically masturbating guys with raging hormones like me who look through bedroom windows at women. Some place that must be.

***

If I could have mowed Mrs. Audi's lawn in the middle of the night I would have, because that would have allowed me to not have to look at Mrs. Audi. Actually, me looking at her wasn't what bothered me. It was having her look at me that I dreaded, so after I went over I tried to fill her mower as quickly and quietly as possible.

That accomplished nothing of course, because once that mower started roaring my presence would be obvious. As it turned out it didn't matter because even before I revved up the engine Mrs. Audi came out onto the porch, and while I tried to pretend I didn't see her eventually I looked up

Mrs. Audi had a tight little smile and gave me a timid little wave, which wasn't like her usually much more animated greeting. I returned the wave and was happy when she went back in the house because she was wearing one of those house dresses with the short sleeves that capped her rounded shoulders, and if she started putting clothes on the line again...

What the hell is wrong with me? I forced myself to stop thinking about stuff like that and instead I concentrated on figuring out how fast I could mow the lawn. My record was about 40 minutes, with the steep slope in back really slowing the process down, but it was so hot that my early rapid pace was beginning to flag about halfway through. That was when I turned around and saw her coming towards me with a big tumbler of lemonade.

"Tyler, please slow down," Mrs. Audi said after I turned the mower off and faced her. "It's too hot to go that fast. Here. You like lemonade, don't you?"

"Yes, thanks Mrs. Audi," I said as I took the drink which I really did need, and as I sipped it I could feel the tension between us.

There had never been any tension before, and I had always enjoyed talking with her. Now was different. She seemed embarrassed, like she wanted to say something but couldn't. I could appreciate that because since that incident I tried to imagine how I would have felt if the situation was reversed.

"So hot lately," Mrs. Audi said as she wiped the brow with the back of my hand while forcing myself to look anywhere besides where I wanted to, and then she left.

As Mrs. Audi walked towards her back door my eyes followed her. She wasn't a very big woman, probably only about 5'4", and although she might have been a tiny bit plump there was no denying she had a nice body. The bras I had ducked under a few times over the years showed she had pretty big boobs although the dresses she wore didn't flaunt them.

I had even looked at the tags a couple of times to see what size bra she wore but the tags were old and faded. I figured her boobs were as big or bigger than my Mom's judging by the size of the cups and Mom wore a 40C. Maybe that Mom being real chubby had something to do with it, but I had no clue.

Mrs. Audi's legs looked shapely, although she wore these white socks that went halfway up her calves and weren't flattering. Were her legs hairy? I couldn't tell although that swipe of her hand on her head left no doubt about where a razor still didn't go. I didn't care about any of that, and in fact I thought her hairy armpits made her look wild and sexy.

It was about that moment as I watched Mrs. Audi walked up the steps of her porch that I noticed she had turned around and looked back at me while I was still holding my empty glass and staring dumbly at her while mentally undressing the woman.

Son of a bitch. Let's see, I thought as I set the glass next to my wallet on the shelf of the shed and started up the mower again. "Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it." George Santayana said that, and the only reason I knew that is because it was a question on my final exam last month.

That was me alright. I couldn't learn from my mistakes. How could I stand there and leer at this poor lady, especially after invading her privacy like I had? All week I had fretted about going to either jail or hell, and look how I acted when apparently handed a reprieve.

I just couldn't help myself. As I mowed I kept thinking about Mrs. Audi, and while this wasn't really new, now that I had seen her naked it was different. What was worse, I hadn't seen her naked, just from the waist down and even that wasn't a great view. Now I was using what I had seen and working in my imagination for the rest.

I finally finished the lawn and returned the mower to the shed, and this time I remembered to grab my wallet although I saw that the lemonade glass was there next to it. I could pretend to forget that it was there but decided that instead I would put it on the rail of Mrs. Audi's back porch.

The plan worked well until Mrs. Audi appeared at the screen door, holding the crumpled dollar bills that she always made me take even though my mother had insisted that I never take anything from Mrs. Audi, "Except a thank you".

"You might need this for school someday," Mrs. Audi had always told me while pressing the bills in my hand, explaining that she couldn't have me do all that work for nothing.

Those dollar bills had grown into a considerable pile, money that I would indeed need for college books soon, but as Mrs. Audi beckoned me into her kitchen I was wishing I could disappear.

"Sit down Tyler," Mrs. Audi said as she took the glass and filled it again, and as she motioned for me to sit at the little table across from her I was searching for a reason to get out.

"Oh - uh - Mrs. Audi? You needed something at the store yesterday," I mumbled. "I can go right now."

"Sit down Tyler," Mrs. Audi said. "We have to talk."

I collapsed into the chair, feeling even more dread than I had when my old man under a lot of prodding from my mother, told me to sit down just like Mrs. Audi had. His mission that day was to tell me about the facts of life. I had managed to divert that conversation by steering it into a discussion about whether Ernie Banks was the best all-around shortstop in history or not.

Mrs. Audi probably didn't know anything about Ernie Banks, and even if she did I knew this this conversation was not going to be about baseball. The only consolation was that Mrs. Audi seemed to be just as nervous as I was.

***

"Tyler, I want to explain about last week," Mrs. Audi said, and as I looked at her little hands clenched and twisted while spinning her wedding ring around, I started to cry.

Not bawling, but my eyes filled up and a tear trickled down my cheek as I told her I was sorry.

"You didn't do anything honey," Mrs. Audi said while reaching across the table and putting her hand over the one I had on the tumbler.

"I thought you were sick or something, I swear," I said. "I heard - thought I heard you crying or something."