Fig Tree

A new couple had moved in next door to me a couple of months back. I basically had a nodding acquaintance with them, mainly because we were a generation apart, with them in their early twenties and me pushing forty. This isn't to say that I hadn't noticed that Sylvia wasn't a very attractive little thing. She most decidedly was, especially with a bust like hers. I used to wonder if it was natural, enhanced, or just a padded bra, but it's not the sort of question you can ask a new neighbour. Or any neighbour, come to think of it.

It was approaching Autumn, the time for pruning those trees that were a little overgrown. This didn't normally affect me but I had a suspicion that this year it did. My neighbour had this very large fig tree near the side fence and it needed energetic pruning each year to ensure that I didn't get an overload of ripe figs dropping down into my yard. The previous neighbour had been quite willing to do the pruning but I didn't know if the new guy even knew that he was supposed to do it. I thought that I'd wander over and check one fine Saturday morning.

I fronted up and rang the bell and after a few moments Sylvia answered the door. She was smiling, but looking a little flustered, and the way that silk robe was clinging to her, and the way she was clutching the sides to make sure it stayed closed, I would hazard a guess and say she'd just finished her shower.

"Yes?" she said, and then appeared to recognise me. "Oh, you're, uh. . ." She nodded in the direction of my house.

"Damon, from next door, yes," I said. "You're Sylvia, if I remember correctly."

"Um, yes. What can I do for you?"

"It's Autumn," I told her. "The time for catching up on gardening, pulling weeds, mowing lawns, trimming giant fig trees that are encroaching on your neighbour's property. That sort of stuff."

She looked at me rather blankly while she digested this and then she came to the nub of the statement.

"Ah, fig tree. Do you mean that big tree in our back yard?"

"That's the one," I assured her. "If it doesn't get trimmed back now, come spring it'll be dropping a poultice of figs into my back yard, complete with a heavy coating of bird dung from all the birds who like to nibble on figs. Very messy to clean up and guaranteed to make me short tempered. I thought I'd drop a reminder that the trimming is now due as I suspected you didn't know."

"I didn't," she agreed. "Wait a minute. If you get figs all over your yard just from the branches that stick over the fence, what happens to our yard?"

"To put it simply, you get an abundant supply of figs. You can make fig jam, fig jelly, puree of fig, fig tarts, fig pies, fig whatever. You also have the advantage of being able to eat fresh figs right off the tree. You may even be able to pick enough to sell to the local greengrocer."

"I don't even like figs," she grumbled.

"If you don't like them now, wait until next Summer. You will learn to hate them. If you take a look at the tree now you'll probably find that it still has some late fruit on it."

"If it's any help I'm quite willing to trim that part of the tree that is on my side of the fence," I told her. "I'll even get rid of the trimmings for you."

"Oh, thanks. I'll tell Michael that and see what he says."

Business done I lingered, just chatting in a getting to know you way. The more we chatted the more I liked her. Still, I had to call it a day and get on with my daily life. I started making I'll be going noises.

"Before I go," I said. "Ah, you'll have to forgive me for this."

I reached for her wrists and moved her arms apart. Seeing she was holding her robe closed it also parted, and I guess my guess about being fresh out of the shower was spot on as she was totally naked beneath that robe. She was all pink and white and blushing, looking slightly scandalized at my nerve. Okay, make that looking totally scandalized at my nerve. At the same time her nipples were puckering up and standing out.

"Da-amn," I said in a most heart-felt manner. "You are truly amazing. To tell the truth if your husband wasn't home I'd be bending you back over that dresser and ravishing you." I nodded to a nice walnut dresser at the side of the hallway.

"He's not," Sylvia said.

"Excuse me?" She did not say that, did she?

"He, ah, he had to go to work. They're stocktaking and he's in charge."

I let go her wrists and brushed the robe off her shoulders. It promptly slithered down her arms, dropping free and pooling at her feet, with Sylvia not doing one little thing to stop it happening.

I let my eyes run over her again and she took a step backwards. I just naturally took a step forwards. She kept backing away while I moved towards her, idly noting that she wasn't backing down the hall so much, as backing towards that walnut dresser I'd mentioned.

Her buttocks bumped up against the dresser and it turned out that I wouldn't have to bend her back over the dresser. She was doing quite a good job of that herself, leaning back, feet parted, arms behind her helping to support her. I stopped right in front of her, my hands closing over her breasts.

Her breasts, I'd like to point out, did not need the support of a bra, were not needing padding in any manner, were entirely natures work and, from the way she was reacting, were very sensitive. I stroked and teased them, then dipped my head so I could taste them. With my head bent over them I dropped a hand and started massaging between her legs, not totally surprised to find heat and moisture already there.

The look on her face was not saying don't do this. Rather it was wild excitement, indicating that she was way past ready. I dropped my trousers, showing what I was bringing to the party, and I could see her anticipation, her need.

I just aligned myself, treating her casually, almost roughly, and then I was driving into her. She made a groaning sound and pushed hard towards me, taking me in as deep as possible as fast as possible. No maidenly reserves from this young madam.

I just got down to business right from the word go, not that she actually gave the word. I drove in hard and often, finding her ready, willing, and able to respond. She was matching my efforts with no problems, her nails digging into my shoulders as she pushed urgently against me, meeting my thrusts.

Maybe I wasn't going in hard enough, because after a minute or so her legs came up and wrapped around my waist, as she did her best to draw me even deeper. Either her husband had a massive dong or she was just plain greedy.

It was patently obvious that she was heading towards a climax and so I decided to just hurry her along a bit. I shortened my stroke with the result that I was thrusting into her a lot more rapidly, not having to waste time pulling right back. She was gasping, breathing hard, and I did my best to turn up the heat a little more.

She climaxed quite quietly, shuddering and shaking, her legs dropping away as she sagged back against the dresser. I just pressed against her for a few moments, watching as she gathered herself together.

I pulled out, spun her around, and leaned her face first over the dresser. That done I was entering her once again, driving in hard, my hands going around her to close over her breasts.

"What do you think you're doing?" she yelled, sounding rather startled.

"What the fuck does it feel like I'm doing?" I asked, happily thrusting into her.

"You can't do that," she protested.

"Why not? A bit late to complain now, isn't it?"

"But - but you just did it."

"And now I'm doing it again. Now why don't you be quiet and move your rump?" I gave her a friendly slap on her rump to remind her of her duties.

She gave a squeal and hastily got with the action. It made me wonder how she'd react to a spanking. When in doubt, ask.

"Have you ever been spanked before or during sex?"

"What? No."

"Would you like to be?"

"No." The answer came fast but it seemed to me that it sounded just a little bit doubtful. She was now wondering what it would be like. Maybe I'd have a chance to demonstrate someday. Not today, but someday.

I was busy thrusting into her, playing with her breasts while I did so, feeling gratified at the way she was responding. Also a little amused that she was somewhat noisier now than she had been earlier.

"Why did you ask if I'd ever been spanked?" she demanded.

"Oh, just a feeling I had that you'd probably enjoy a good spanking, something to make your bottom smart before you demonstrate your repentance."

"Well I wouldn't."

"How do you know if you haven't tried it?"

She chose not to answer that, concentrating on bouncing her unspanked bottom, presumably to keep it in that pristine state.

I wasn't in any hurry to finish off this time, just building her up to a rather volatile point and then keeping her balanced there. Also keeping myself balanced on the edge, because I really was at a stage where I wanted to cut loose. I wondered how long she would last like that.

Not too long, it turned out. After a minute or so she was grumbling, throwing out little hints that I should finish things. A couple more minutes and she started to sound a little desperate. Then she snapped.

"Finish it, you pig," she screamed, and added a rather horrendous threat.

I, being a gentleman, obeyed, thrusting in hard and fast and releasing her from her anguish. This time she gave a small scream as she climaxed, banging her fist on the dresser at the same time.

This time I pulled up my trousers after we separated. Sylvia, of course, didn't have that option, her only clothing being the robe that was lying on the floor next to the front door.

I saw her eyes go to the robe and then to the front door. She looked as though she was struggling to say something.

"Oh my god," she burst out. "Not only did you have the gall to grab me and rape me, TWICE, you did it with the front door wide open. Anyone might have come along and seen what was happening."

"I'm sure that in that case they'd have apologised and departed as fast as they arrived," I said in soothing tones, "and I only raped you once."

"Once? It was twice. I should know. I was there."

"So was I," I pointed out. "It only counts as a single time."

"No it doesn't," she insisted.

"If you don't believe me ask someone else. They'll tell you it only counts as once."

"Ask who? My husband?"

"Ah, perhaps not. Maybe one of your girlfriends. Put it to them as a hypothetical situation and see what they say."

"Well, I say it was twice and I don't give a fig for what you think."

That was telling me, especially when you consider how many figs she was going to have. I smiled.

"One thing you should remember if you're going to argue with me," I said with a happy smile.

She gave me an expectant look.

"The potential spanking, remember. Sooner or later you're going to want to know what it'll be like and here I am, ready to show you."

"You wouldn't dare," she gasped, but that excited look was back in her eyes. She was wondering what it would be like.

Me, I was wondering if she'd suggest it to Michael or wait until I gave her one. I rather hoped she'd wait.