Sad Neighbour: A Story

I knew nothing about sex, nada, except that I should be gentle, to be light with my fingers and to be patient — that's what a woman wants, or so I had read and so I had heard my mother lecture my father on at least three occasions. But where was I going? I didn't know, so I pulled up her slip, pulled it up high and she lifted her bottom so the slip could pile on her stomach and when she settled back down I could see her red, nylon panties and I could see her shapely legs spread neatly apart. It was then that I shifted down to rest my head on her soft white belly and watch my fingers explore the red mound just inches from my eyes.

I was conscious of the noise before she was. I sat up and instinctively reached for my clothes. There was no doubt about it, there were footsteps on the stairs. Hugging my clothes I slid to the floor and while rolling under the bed I made sure to bring my shoes and socks with me.

As far as I could tell, Mrs. Zimmer hadn't moved, didn't have time to move and in a matter of moments I could feel someone was at the door. "Oh, excuse me."

"Sorry, I should have shut the door." Mrs. Zimmer's voice was strangely matter-of-fact, there was no fear in it.

His voice seemed further away now, as if he had moved into the hall. "You look beautiful, Zoe. I'd forgotten how beautiful you are."

"I should cover myself."

The voice was closer now, "No, please, don't." He hesitated, I imagined he was studying the body with the slip spilling on her stomach, her legs slightly parted and her hand on her red nylon panties. "Can I sit?"

"Yes."

I could feel a weight on the bed and see two brown shoes come together on the floor.

"I was masturbating, Frank." Then she added with a self-mocking grunt, "Obviously."

"Yes." Even from where I was I could feel the awkwardness of the long silence that followed, then he finally spoke. "I've never seen you masturbate, Zoe, not in 25 years. I guess you have to now." There was real melancholy in the man's voice.

Mrs. Zimmer didn't say anything but I had the impression she was looking at him through her sad eyes and that her hand was still on her panties, defiantly on her panties. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No, no, please." His response was so quick there was no doubt of his sincerity. "Can I help?" The voice was so pathetic, so wishful that his words could have come from a school boy, could have come from me.

"It wouldn't be masturbation then, would it?"

Then the brown shoes turned but the toes stayed on the floor and there was a slight gasp and that's when the crying started, a muffled cry, a blubbering cry. I imagined that he had his face pressed into his wife's stomach, about where mine had been just a few moments before. The muffled sobs continued for a minute or more and then I saw the shoes leave the floor and the husband was lying on the bed beside the wife and his crying was louder and more plaintive. The man's misery filled the room. "I'm sorry, Zoe, I don't know when or how I lost it."

"It wasn't you, Frank, it was me." Her voice was surprisingly soothing, surprisingly consoling. I imagined she was stroking his hair. "I lost it, Frank, I ran from you, I ran from Susan, I ran from everyone, everything. It was never your fault, honest. It was always mine and I didn't know what to do about it. Here, will you take this off?"

Frank's feet were on the floor again and I could see what looked like a Rolex watch flash at me as he quickly undid his shoes and kick them off. Within seconds they were covered by his jacket, pants, shirt, underwear and socks.

As the mattress conformed to their bodies, I started to consider my situation and that's when I heard my name.

"… Bradley, you may remember him, he lives a few doors away, used to deliver our paper." I think they were stroking each other as she told him how I took an interest in her life and, to simplify her story, that my interest in her led to a new appreciation of herself. Her masturbation started the night before and yada yada yada. The story took about five minutes to tell and when it was nearing its conclusion, so were they and they seemed to cum at about the same time and just as hard, with just as much noise. That's when the bed started to rock and I knew they were going to get into each other and I settled in for a long night when two hairless legs hit the floor. "Let's take a shower first," and I could tell she pulled him to his feet and they ran from the room like school kids.

I thought twice about taking to the trail the next day but I did and I was glad I did. She was there and she had a smile on her face as bright as a cheerleader's. We fell into step together. "An unusual night." She smiled at me.

"Oh, pretty much standard for me." I smiled back.

She playfully nudged me in the ribs with her elbow, "You're one beauty guy, Bradley, a real Doctor Phil."

"He loves you doesn't he?"

"He always has and I've always known it. I've just never known how to deal with it."

"And you do now?"

"Maybe."

"Maybe?"

"I was a bit of a free spirit as a kid, Bradley, hard to believe, but I was. But after I got married I slowly morphed into this cautious middle class matron — I began to take everything so fucking serious, I spent all my time trying to protect everything I had gained." She paused for a moment to collect her thought. "It's been a remarkably slowly process but I've gradually learned that caution leads to security, security leads to conservatism, conservatism leads back to caution." For the first time, she turned to look at me, as if her eye contact would add profundity to her conclusion. "You can become so afraid of life that you actually stop living it. I think that's what's happened to me."

I smiled, "The Doctor Phil in me says that sounds a bit simplistic."

"Sure does," she said with a beaming, innocent smile, "but it's a start. For now on I'm going to try to toss safety aside and try for a little more daring adventure." She jabbed me again in the ribs. "Do you still want to fuck me?"

She could see the shock on my face and she laughed. "When you jumped off the bed last night you left me lying with my legs apart, saliva on my nipple and juice on my panties. I looked like a slut. And when I felt his eyes on me, I felt like a slut." She hesitated and I knew it was for effect. "And I'd never felt so hot. Lying there with my legs apart and my hand on my pussy … it was delicious, it was just so fucking shockingly delicious for me and I know it was for him, too. We had sex last night like we've never had sex before. We've always loved each other and now, finally, we've reconnected — and I think, I'm almost positive, we're going to stay connected, and one of the reasons we're going to stay connected is that I'm going to make absolutely sure that my batteries never run down again and if it takes a young stud from a few doors away to make certain of that, then let's get it on. I'd love to have sex with you Bradley, any time you want."

It was at that precise moment that I looked at my watch and when I did she pulled me into her arms and hugged me with all her strength and when she let me go there was a smile on her face that was so full of joy that my body shivered in excitement.

We didn't see each other again for more then a week, nine days to be precise. I stayed away deliberately. I knew she wanted to resurrect things with her husband and I knew, in that, I could be of absolutely no use. I would have stayed away longer, but I couldn't. I couldn't for two reasons: I really missed her and I desperately wanted to sleep with her.

She was on the trail at 7 with a smile so big she could have used a wheelbarrow to carry it. We fell in step and walked for a couple of minutes in silence, then she said, matter of factly, "I'm going up to see Susan tomorrow, Frank's up there now. I thought we should all get together now, in case I slip back into my morose doldrums again."

I look a quick look at her, "Is there any chance of that?" I was hoping she'd be over her sadness for good.

"Sure there's a chance, it could easily happen again," then she playfully nudged me in the ribs with her elbow, "but I'm going to fight it, Bradley, I'm really going to fight it this time." She stopped and turned around. "Do you want to finish what we started?"

When I reached for her hand she leaned into me and she rested her head on my shoulder. "I'm not trying to use you Bradley, but I need you." She took a step back and scrutinized me, "Are you absolutely clear about that. I'm not trying to use you?"

"Hey, use me, that's what I'm here for." When I grabbed her I playfully pulled her to me so that her side banged into mine; it seemed the most natural thing to do, like we were kids in front of high school or something and we both laughed.

In five minutes we were lying on her bed holding each other as if we feared the other might try to escape.

"Do you know why I need you, Bradley?" She didn't wait for me to answer. "I told you before. Lying here with you makes me feel a little bit like a slut," then she hastened to add, "you don't make me feel like a slut, it's the fact that I'm sort of taking advantage of a nice, friendly kid — that's what makes me feel this way and, you know what? I want to feel like a slut, I want to feel a little dirty, I want to feel a little … wanton. It makes me feel so alive. You make me feel so alive. I don't expect you to understand this but I'd like to try to explain."

I squeezed her and when I pressed my face hard against her chest I kissed the fabric of her shirt. "You don't have to explain anything to me. I want to be here."

"I want to explain, I want to hear my own words, I want to reinforce what I'm feeling." When she began to stroke my hair I moved up and kissed her on the cheek, but she pushed me back onto her chest and when she did, I brought a hand up to her breast. "Do you know what a centrifugal force is?"

"Yes."

She continued as if she hadn't heard me. "It's a force that holds everything in a kind of swirling circle, nothing gets in, nothing gets out. Life can get like that, you can reach a stage when you're trapped in your own centrifugal force, your life just goes around and around and you can't do a goddam thing about it — unless you meet a Bradley, someone who stops the swirling long enough to let something in, or let something out." When she laughed I was struck by how much joy there was in it, how playful it was, it was the laugh of a school girl. "My portal out of ‘the force'," she said the words dramatically, "was to feel like a slut again, to get back a little of my youth, to feel a little dirty, a little daring, a little adventurous, a little risky." She shifted on the bed and lay on her side next to me, looking down at me. "Let's be a little dirty, Bradley, let's be a little daring." She leaned down and kissed me gently on the lips. "When you were lying on your bed that night thinking about me, what were we doing? Let's do it."

"Which night?"

Confusion flashed in her eyes, "You said you had a pillow in your arms and …"

"Yes, but which night? I've had that pillow in my arms every night since I met you again."

She collapsed onto me and squeezed my head against her chest and held me for almost a minute and when she let me go and looked down on me there wasn't a hint of laughter in her eyes. "What did you do to me, Bradley."

"I asked you if I could take your clothes off."

She quickly kissed me on the forehead and in my eye and then she eagerly sat up and spread her arms out, "I'm all yours."

I sat up. "Can I take my time, I want to remember this."

"I've got all the time in the world for you Bradley. Take all of the time you want."

I was surprised, I wasn't even a little bit nervous, I think because of her smile, it was so kind, so welcoming and I didn't fumble once and when the buttons of her shirt were undone I parted the material. But that was a big mistake. For the first time in my life a woman was in front of me in a bra and I had to grab my cock and squeeze it or I would have blown my load.

She saw my plight and I was relieved when she didn't laugh. Instead, she pushed me down, jumped on the floor and as she leaned over the bed I caught a quick look at her tits dangling down in her bra and I had to look away. She took off my shoes and sock, helped me out of my shirt and removed my pants and underwear, then she turned my head and kissed me gently on the lips. "I'm betting you can recover in seconds." Then she delicately took my stiff penis in her fingers, put it in her mouth and gently sucked on it twice before it exploded so hard she started to cough.

I tried to get up to help her but she pushed me down, then she wiped at her eyes with my shirt and laughed, "You needed that, didn't you?" and she took her shirt off and kneeled on the bed. "OK?" She was looking down on me, smiling sweetly.

When I said, "For now," she laughed and sat down beside me and began to stroke my chest.

She had said that she was a bit wild in her youth and I could believe it. She was good at this; you could see that she had done it before; she was really natural; she seemed kind of in her element. As she sat there absently stroking my chest her eyes seemed to turn inwards as if she was thinking back to earlier days and she didn't seem to have a care in the world. I studied her, perhaps for the first time. She was beautiful, she had a really attractive face dominated by those big dark eyes that turned so easily to sadness. But there wasn't a hint of sadness in them now, they were soft and dreamy and content and her thin sensual lips held a slight smile that seemed to round out her chin, making her thin face more rounded, more welcoming. And she was stacked, her red bra was so full and her cleavage so deep that I actually moaned when I looked at it and I didn't have to look to know that my prick was as stiff as a board again.

She saw my reaction and hefted her tits with her hands and when she reached behind her to undo her bra I stopped her, "Please, I won't be able to take it. I'll explode again."

She bent down and gave me a peck on my lips, "So explode."

"Can I take off your pants?"

"Of course." She quickly lay down and ginned at me without a hint of self consciousness and even before I had my hands on her waistband she lifted her ass from the bed to help me. They came off in a single motion but I left on her white nylon panties, I left them on for a purpose. I kissed her on the nose, "Would you stand up so I can look at you?"

"Sure," she said and she eagerly bounded from the bed and stood a few feet away, stood standing in a kind of exaggerated modeling pose, with a hand on a hip, shaking her ass back and forth, then she frowned and took a few steps forward, flicked on the lights and regain her pose. She was beautiful, she was sexy, she was confident and she was beaming with kindness and goodness and childishness and every other good thing I wanted to see in a woman who would stand in front of me dressed only in her bra and panties. God she was gorgeous and I told her so.

"It's my DNA," she said, as she came to the side of the bed and positioned her legs between mine, pulling my head into her chest. "We have good, elastic skin, Susan and I. My mother didn't have a wrinkle until she was 65."

And she had a great ass, my hands had found it and I was kneading it like it was warm dough and my face was pressed into her hot, wet cleavage and I don't think I had ever felt so happy and so safe; I know I'd never felt so turned on.

"It's that time again." I was squeezing her, willing my dink to cooperate but both it and Mrs. Zimmer had other plans. She stepped back, quickly pushed down her panties and as I watched in awe, she gently took my prick in her fingers and rubbed the head against the opening of her wet pussy and when I shot at her I fell back and squirmed uncontrollably as my dink throbbed on her hot lips.

"I told you I was a bit of a slut." She was smiling at me as she swabbed my cum from my cock and her pussy with a Kleenex and when she finished she stood up, put her hands behind her back and said, "Is it OK now?"

When I nodded, she unhinged her bra and let it fall to the floor and they were there, sagging slightly against her ribs, her nipples large and brown and erect, pointing a little away from each other as if they were competitors. She moved to get on the bed but I held up my hand to stop her. "Could I look at you for a bit?"

She came forward, leaned down and gently kissed me then she stood back again, just a foot from the bed and grinned at me. "Not bad for an old broad, ah?" She turned slowly around and when her back was to me she shook her ass at me and I could hear her laugh and then she completed the circle. "What part do you like the best?"

I don't know if she meant it that way, but I took the question seriously. I just flashed on her face, lingered on her tits and studied her pussy which was lightly covered by a thin thicket of light brown hair. "I like the package, Mrs. Zimmer, I really like the entire package." I said this not to be diplomatic. I meant it.

"Oh, no you don't. Pick a part. I want to know what part you like best," and she slowly turned around again.

When she finally stopped in front of me I said, "It's a tie?" And I could see she was confused so I added, "OK, maybe I like the left one a little better."

In an instant she was on top of me, her legs pinning my arms to the bed and her breasts dangling over my face and she was laughing that girlish laugh. "No one's look at my tits like that in 20 years," and she dangled her left breast over my face, stabbing my eyes with her hard brown nipple, flicking my nose with it, teasing me, poking the magnificent nipple at my lips as I tried to catch it in my mouth.

"It's that time again."

She sat up in near shock and looked back, expecting to see a squirting cock and when she did I bucked her off me and when she landed on the bed I jumped on top of her. We were wrestling now and laughing and she was pinching me and kneeing me, fighting dirty and I was tickling her and I could see it was driving her crazy because she was now thrashing at me with her arms and legs, trying to get away but I wouldn't let her and we fought for maybe five minutes. And then we stopped and, except for our heavy breathing, we were completely still and only then were we conscious of each other. I had my face on her lower stomach and my hand was curled around her thigh with my fingers touching her pussy. My thigh was above her face, and my balls were dangling down against her cheek. We were entirely still for a moment, adjusting to our surroundings and then I felt her hands on my ass. She was pushing my cheeks, coaxing me down. And I went, I slid down the few inches to her pussy. I had never smelled a woman before. It was strong and pungent and it lured me in, and when I breathed in her smell and studied the light brown bush between her milky white legs it occurred to me that I, Bradley White, the paper boy from three door away, was the reason for the sexual excitement in this magnificent woman and I think I kind of collapsed on her in joy and I pulled her pussy to my face and sucked in her smell, sucked in her heat, sucked in her juices and I couldn't have loved this fantastic woman more.

We were in the kitchen now, I was fully clothed and she was covered in a light robe. We were hugging, we'd held the same hug for what seemed like five minutes, neither of us wanting to break it off, neither if us wanting it to end — I think because neither of us knew what the ending would bring.

… …

The funeral home was just a few blocks from my office so I decided to walk and use the time to search my emotions. I hadn't gone a block before I realized I hadn't any, not for him at least, I'd hardly met him, really, all I'd ever seen of him was his brown shoes and his Rolex watch. But I knew I wasn't going to the service to pay my respect to him, I was going to lend my support to her.