Shannon's Match

Copyright 2021—All rights reserved.

This story is written for the 2021 Summer Lovin' contest.

Subject: Shan's matchmaking threatens to be big trouble for Chris.

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It was the middle of a Saturday afternoon in late August and it was hot as blazes outside. Fortunately, parts of the yard were covered by the shade of our towering trees.

Stopping in one of the better shady spots, I slowed the engine on the mower and took a drink from my water bottle before looking at the tracker app on my phone. It said the package was out for delivery, but still hadn't set an estimated delivery time. It didn't matter that much though; while I couldn't wait for it to arrive, I had to finish mowing and doing the rest of the yardwork before I could take advantage of it.

Our yard is a decent size but it has more trees than any other lot in the neighborhood so I don't have nearly as much to mow as most of our neighbors. Therefore, instead of the riding zero-turn mowers owned by most of them, I had a 21-inch Zwirco Industries self-propelled, reel-type mower that I use to mow our Zoysia grass and get exercise.

After wiping my brow, I went back to it and mowed for another ten minutes or so before seeing the delivery van turn the corner onto our street. It passed by our house, continuing down to the end of the cul-de-sac before coming back my way. It stopped right in front of the yard and I killed the mower's engine.

I approached the truck to await the driver, who was reaching in the back for something. Having delivered to us many times before, she saw me and smiled as she stepped out.

"Hi, Mr. Jones," she said with a somewhat thick Eastern European accent. "I have a package for your wife."

"Thanks, Tatyanna."

She handed it to me with a smile and quickly turned to go. She's paid by the delivery, not to stand around and talk. However, I guess I'd just saved her from walking all the way to the front door, so she turned and added, "If this is what I think, she's going to love it and you're going to absolutely adore it. At least my boyfriend adores all the sets I've ordered. Repeatedly," she said with a grin. "Enjoy!"

I turned bright red at this pretty young lady knowing the contents of the package but was a bit turned on that she'd share a little intimate knowledge about herself. As the van pulled away, I looked at the package and realized the company's well-known initials and return address were clearly visible on the package. With the firm's current near-saturation-level advertising campaign, it wasn't too hard to guess the nature of what was inside.

I quickly took the package into the house. "Shannon! Your present's here," I called loudly, trying to attract her attention in the far reaches of our home.

"Chris, are you trying to impress the whole neighborhood?" she asked with a smile as she immediately rounded the corner toward me. She leaned in and kissed me, causing my eyes to open wide, before putting a hand out to keep me from pulling her close.

"You're sweaty, big boy. Now let me see."

I slit the tape for her with my pocket knife and gave her the box, which she set down on the dining room table. She opened the box and peeked inside.

"Oh, my! It's as lovely as it looks online." She took the fabric between two fingers and rubbed them together. "And, oh, so soft. No padding in this; it's going to be all me," she purred as she held up the sheer silk bra with its trimming of see-through lace. "Chris, it's divine!"

Shannon's an educated woman but when she's breathing like that and starts using words like 'divine,' I know we've either finished a really hot lovemaking session, she's on Cloud Nine about something, or she secretly has her egg vibrator going. Knowing it wasn't the first and when her eyes didn't start rolling up as with the third, I figured Cloud Nine it was and that she really loved it.

"I can't wait to see it on you," I told her before leaning in to kiss her neck and cheek. "I've got to go back out and finish up, but I'll be dreaming of seeing you in it and yearning to take it off of you."

"You'd better be!" She was looking forward to it as much as I was. Another kiss and I was on my way, but not without her pinching my ass as I turned away.

Back in the yard, I went back to mowing as I dreamed of my red-headed angel strutting around in high heels with black lace hose and her new black lace bra and thong panty set. I spent the next half hour or so imagining how incredible she'd look in them and the joy I'd get from helping her out of them. Needless to say, I have a fertile imagination when it comes to our love life and she always does her share in keeping it that way. With the bottom of my t-shirt hanging down over my shorts, I could enjoy these delightfully delicious thoughts and my body's heated reaction to them without worrying about anyone seeing anything unseemly.

I had just a few rounds left in the front yard when I saw the white Cadillac creep around the corner onto our quiet street. On seeing it, I slammed the mower's propulsion gear into high and took off mowing practically at a run, thankful for the Zwirco's 7.6 horsepower engine that easily cut through the grass as quickly as I ran over it. Speculations on Shannon's new outfit premiere and the after-panty party would have to wait.

The white Caddy pulled to a stop right in the middle of the first house on the far side of the street. I couldn't quite see the female driver's features through the glare of the windshield, but on seeing her looking out the window toward the house, I was able to confirm that it was exactly who I thought it was: Miss Arabella Bustamonte, the bitchy lady from our Homeowner's Association or HOA.

Miz Busybody, as she's commonly known by most members of our community (when we aren't bestowing her with less complimentary titles), was making her weekly rounds searching for HOA violations. While most such HOA inspectors would write up anyone caught with flagrant violations, Miz Busybody apparently considered herself a professional observer. I'm sure she took it as a personal affront when she couldn't discover a single violation on a homeowner's property; however, anyone unlucky enough to be caught with even the most mundane of transgressions would surely hear about it from her in an e-mail sometime during the weekend and by snail mail on Tuesday or so of the next week.

With the exception of the last little rectangle of uncut grass, my lawn looked good, but our huge, mulched "tree islands" always need work. With so many trees, there are almost always fallen sticks and limbs scattered over the pine bark mulch that provide cover for the naturescapes that are highlighted with Shannon's flowers. Most weekends I gather up enough sticks to serve as starting kindling at a college pep rally bonfire. Looking at the situation around me, I knew there were at least four technical violations that Miz Bitchybody would note if I didn't move fast.

And it would have to be fast since she'd finished the first house and moved on to the second. I quickly finished the mowing (one violation down!) while Bitch moved to the third house, directly across from ours. There were a couple more houses before the cul-de-sac round and then she'd be coming back our way.

I quickly carried the sack of yard waste out to the curb. Pickup by our local jurisdiction wasn't until Monday, but that was one of the few things she let slide, probably since her yard service did her yard on Friday and she couldn't object to the rest of the members of the HOA doing the same without writing up herself, too.

She was starting around the cul-de-sac, so I quickly grabbed the gas can and pushed the mower into the garage (two down) rather than taking it to the storage shed in the backyard. Setting down the gas can, I closed the garage door, eliminating a third violation over an open garage door when not in active use. Glancing down the street, I saw that Bitchyhottie's car was coming out of the cul-de-sac and moving down our side of the street toward our house.

With only a few houses left, I ran back to the big front island and started tossing sticks into a yard waste bag as fast as I could pick them up. I'd made good progress and had the bag half full when she pulled up in front of our house.

Instead of being a vigilant observer like she'd been at the other houses, she got out of the car after stopping.

"Hi, Chris. How are you?" she called.

I was breathing a bit hard from my exertions so I left the sack and walked over her way.

"Hi, Miss Bustamonte," I replied. "I'm doing well. How about yourself?"

In her mid-to-late 40s, she was a very lovely-looking woman if one wasn't aware of her anal-retentive personality. She was wearing a rather clingy, low-cut yellow and white sundress that did a fine job of showing her shapely figure, giving a glimpse of her rather delightful cleavage, and also complimenting her dark brown hair.

"Chris, how many times do I have to tell you that it's Arabella?" She smiled at me, a sweet little smile, if I didn't know it was laced with HOA-flavored acid ready to burn me. "Is Shannon home? I called her a little while ago and asked if I could stop by to speak with her."

"Yes, Ma'am. She's inside. Come on in," I said as I turned away trying to hide a smile at my polite little jab at her age. She probably had all of two or three years on me, if that.

"Shannon," I called on entering the front door, "Miss Bustamonte's here to see you."

"Hi, Arabella. I'll be right down. Please have a seat in the living room. Chris, be a dear and get us some drinks and the snack tray from the kitchen."

When I brought in the little snack tray, a Diet Dr. Pepper for Miz B, and a Blue Moon for Shannon, my eyes widened at Shannon's green sundress offset by her dark red hair. Though my look was hurried, I didn't see a black bra strap or a pantyline; the thought of her going commando in that dress was as much an aphrodisiac as the bra and panty had been, so I had to hastily dismiss myself before our guest noticed me saluting my wife.

My heart was racing as I went back out in the yard to continue gathering up sticks, all the while wondering what Shannon and Miz Bitchy were up to.

*****

Shannon came out with Arabella a little later, talking and laughing as if they were bosom buddies. They did the chick-cheek kiss and Arabella kicked off her heels and walked barefoot across our yard, around the island and then over to me, the heels dangling by the straps on two fingers.

"Chris, your yard is always so nice! And soft!" She practically trilled about it before adding, "I just wanted to say I hope you two have a lovely evening. Shannon's going to be absolutely beautiful in your present. If my ex had treated me even half as good as you do her, I'd still be married!"

I was a bit red on learning that Miss Bustamonte had once been married and even more distressed that Shannon had apparently told her about the present. I turned an even deeper shade of crimson when she reached up on her tiptoes to give me one of those cheek kisses while also giving me a great, though completely unintentional (on my part, anyway) view down the middle of her sundress. I now knew that she must sunbathe at least topless in her backyard.

Completely embarrassed, I touched my lips against her cheek like an automaton and then watched her go. Shannon, standing on the front porch and watching all the while, waved and then quickly went back in before she burst out laughing.

*****

Later in the afternoon, I'd taken a shower so I grabbed a Sam Adams and went out to find Shannon lying face down, sunbathing on our back deck. With her red hair, she's very light-skinned so she only tans for short periods, which was doubly important this time since the rounded white triangle normally covered by the back of her bikini bottom was on full display. I had no idea where the bikini bottom was, but the top was lying in a ball next to her on the mat.

"Wow!" I exclaimed as I tried to control myself. "Getting ready for a fashion show tonight?"

She looked up at me with a little frown. "Sit down so I don't have to crane my neck to see you."

"Oh, sorry." I crossed one foot over the other and sat down cross legged right next to her.

"Mmm, maybe over a bit so you're not blocking the sun?"

"Sorry," I repeated, sliding over far enough that she could take advantage of what little sunlight found its way through in our tree-lined yard that late in the afternoon.

"Thanks," she said, putting a hand on my thigh and sliding it up and down from my knee to my crotch, causing me to gulp.

"Careful," I said, "unless you're ready to start something now."

She grinned. "Just checking the status of my favorite hardware." Still, she slid her hand down and gave me a gentle squeeze just above my knee before withdrawing it.

"So...did you and Airy have a nice chat?"

"Chris," she said plaintively.

A third sorry slipped my lips. She and Miz Bitchybody had become fairly good friends in recent years so she didn't particularly like some of my nicknames for the evil witch. "Miz Busyb—crap!—Ms. Bustamonte."

"Chris, you're going to slip up one of these days and I'm not sure if I'm going to laugh at you for doing it or if I'll be hugging Arabella over you hurting her feelings. She's really a sweet woman when you get to know her...if you can get past her obsessive streak, anyway."

"It would sure be a lot easier to do that if she wouldn't be such a pest with the HOA violations."

Our homeowners' association, commonly known as the HOA, consists of the owners of the 162 homes in our neighborhood and the 29 more right down the road in "The Reserve," a more private, gated community, built by the same developer as a separate, upscale part of our development. Our HOA board fired our old management company a few years before, hiring Ms. Bustamonte on a part-time basis to take over their old duties.

"She gets a pretty good salary for her part-time work," said Shannon, "but she wants to make sure everyone knows how diligent she is."

"Oh, we know, all right. All too well," I groused. "So why'd she stop by in the middle of her inspection?"

The timer went off on her phone and she rolled over, revealing her beautiful breasts and the tiny red strip in the white V where her legs met.

"Whoa!" I said, admiring the scenery. Shannon is definitely a natural redhead, as I've enjoyed confirming many, many times over the years.

She giggled, but kept her legs together where I couldn't see her more secret treasure. She reset the timer before looking back at me. When she saw I wasn't misbehaving, she parted her legs a little where the sun could peek in to do its work on her skin tone without leaving any white spots. My eyes widened as I saw her hood exposed and the start of that valley of delights that I so enjoyed exploring every chance I got.

"My eyes are up here, big boy," she said, grinning. She'd known I'd look when she did it.

I widened my eyes a bit more, as if trying to impress the view on my memory before moving up.

"Uhh, my eyes are still a bit higher than that," she giggled.

Considering that she was a 34D with gorgeous pink areolas and perfect little buds on top, surely she couldn't expect me to move up from her pussy to her eyes without at least a little detailed inspection work along the way.

"Sweetheart, it looks to me like you may need some more sunscreen, at least right there in the middle. We sure wouldn't want your headlights burning, now would we."

She frowned at me for a second before it became a grin. "Okay, circles only. I'm actually trying to get a little sun on the rest."

I rubbed my hands together like a sinister villain before reaching for the sunscreen she handed me. She'd already applied it to her folds to prevent any potential problems in that department considering the plan for the evening activities.

I squirted a dollop of the sunscreen on my index finger and then one on the adjacent finger on my left hand before recapping the bottle. Transferring one of the little blobs to my right hand, I put thumbs to fingers to spread it around a bit and then gave both nipples a tiny pinch at the same time before swirling my fingers and thumbs around them.

"Chris, fuck!" she breathed when she realized that I was doing a little more pinching and twisting rather than simple rubbing circles. Shannon is quite orgasmic with proper breast play, so I was hoping this would work with two fingers and a thumb on each without my usual suckling assist.

"Mmmmm," she moaned. "Why'd I let you talk me into this?"

"I could stop if you'd like?"

"Fuck you, Chris Jones," she replied, laughing between moans. "I swear, if you stop now, you may be doing that to yourself tonight. Mmmmm...may, I said...mmmmm."

Shan's legs had pulled up, opening herself wide and she was rubbing her clit with one hand while sliding two fingers into herself with the other. With me working her booby bumps and her working her cootchie, it didn't take long before she groaned and collapsed, her legs slipping back down, lying akimbo, as she caught her breath. With the sunscreen applied about as well as I'd ever be able to do it, I eased off her tits and sat there smiling at her bit of afternoon delight.

***

Inside a bit later after Shannon cleaned up, she finally answered my question.

"Arabella asked me to help with the end-of-summer adult pool party in a couple of weeks."

"You didn't say yes," I declared, knowing immediately that she probably had.

"Yes, I told her I would. It'll be fun, you'll see!"

"Yeah, fun," I griped.

Our subdivision's end of summer pool party for families is in the afternoon on the Saturday after Labor Day in early September. There are drinks, food, and some type of entertainment for the kids, and it's usually a good time. However, a few years ago after Miz Busty was hired, she decided that we should have an adult-only pool party the following Saturday night with snacks, a bar, music, and dancing.

The first year was a lot like the kids' party. Everyone wore bathing suits with a lot of the women wearing cover-ups until the last hour of the party when the dancing got serious. I was surprised to see couples doing some serious smooching and grinding on the dance floor. Shannon and I joined in for a couple of dances before we got more heated up than we expected. We said quick goodbyes and headed home where we fucked like bunnies.

The party the next year was a lot like the one the first year, only there were about twice as many people present. I also noticed that many of the women were wearing smaller, more revealing bikinis than the first year, and some of the guys were wearing Speedos. The drinks at the cash bar flowed more freely that year, and the serious dancing started much earlier.

It was about ten that evening when I stepped into the bathroom to hear sounds coming from the stall at the end. That ended abruptly when the door closed. Wearing flipflops, I walked as quietly as one can in those things to a urinal and started taking care of my business but was surprised when I heard the sounds, now including a low moaning, resume. The sounds got more heated and didn't even stop when the restroom door opened again and the autoflush activated on my urinal.

The other guy and I glanced at each other in surprise as someone in the stall apparently reached a grand finale. He was standing at a urinal and I was just finishing washing my hands when the stall door opened and a very pretty though thoroughly disheveled blonde came out and walked to the sink to wash her hands. She'd evidently had her share and more to drink so she was a bit unsteady as she put her hands under the water.

"Ma'am, you might want to adjust your bikini top," I whispered, hoping I wasn't being too forward. The little triangle was displaced on one side, giving me more of a view than would normally be considered proper.