The Good Neighbors Ch. 01

Tommy sagged over the top of the lawn mower. He grit his teeth as sweat dripped from his chin. He could taste the salt of it on his lips. The sun towered overhead, shimmering in the heat, sapping the energy from his bones. He shut his eyes and pushed on.

It neared a hundred and five degrees in the suburbs of Utah. He had begged his father to let it go. And it had worked for a time. But the heatwave hadn't broken in a week and there were no more reprieves.

It was no small stretch of lawn his parents had, either. It was half an acre of steep hills, sharp bushes, and minimal shade. It was like marching across the desert. Or like God holding up a spyglass to fry him like ant.

His shirt was long gone, having been tossed aside almost instantly as he had stepped outside. At eighteen, and after a lifetime of soccer practices and wrestling matches, he didn't have an ounce of fat left to be ashamed of. But now his chest was turning bright red, and his eyes were half-blind from the sun. He took the last stretch at a gallop, pushed the mower into a thin strip of shade, and went to collapse into a chair on their front porch.

That was the back of the yard done. Now just the front was left.

There was no escaping the heat, though, even on the porch. The day was breezeless, and even the shade was like sitting in an oven. Sweat dripped from him, spilling through the cracks in the wicker chair, and raining down onto the ground below. It was suffocating, but the idea of standing up and finishing the yard was even worse.

"You doing okay, honey?" a voice called over.

Tommy opened an eye and spotted their neighbor, Mrs. Hastings, waving at him from her mailbox. He panted, trying to think of the right words, but coming short. Even as she scuttled over, looking increasingly concerned, he couldn't make his mind connect the right dots.

"Honey? Are you okay?" she asked, peeling back the brim of her wide hat.

She was his parents age, heavier set, with dark hair. Her and her husband had lived there on the cul de sac since before he was born. He had spent summers in their pool and hot tub, and had even spent a week with them when his parents had flown to Cancun. He hadn't seen them in nearly a year, though, since he'd started college. It was a bit of an embarrassing way to meet her again.

"Hot," he said finally.

"Oh, dear, I think you're overheating. Are your parents home, honey?" she asked.

He shook his head. He wasn't sure why that mattered. He was an adult now. He thought he might be annoyed by that question later, once he was in air conditioning.

"Come on, dear. Do you think you can take a short walk?" she asked, holding out a pale hand.

He tried to laugh at that, but he only managed to grin weakly as he reached up for her. It was only a few short steps to Hastings' house, and she guided him along the side and to the back. They had an all-weather room on their back porch where the AC ran high. She guided him to it, sat him on a couch that faced the backyard, and filled him a glass of ice water from their bar.

Her husband, Mr. Hastings, rushed out from the house at the sight of them.

"What's going on? Everyone okay? Is that you, Tommy?"

Tommy blinked back at him, dazed from the short walk.

"I think it's the heat," his wife called over as she handed Tommy the glass.

He sipped at it quickly. The freezing water was like a shock to the system. He finished the rest in three gulps, and then she was off to refill it again.

"That better, son?" Mr. Hastings asked.

He was younger than his wife, but only by a few years. He was also heavier, and tall, with brown and gray hair all over.

Growing up, Mr. Hastings was the one he had spent most of his time with. He'd shown Tommy how to swim, how to hold his breath, how to play soccer. It was even his car that Tommy had gotten his license to drive with. Seeing him now, after Tommy's years of teenage angst and then year-long absence, it was hard not to feel guilty.

"A lot better, sir. Thank you. I don't know what happened," Tommy said.

"Seems like what happened is your dad's a damn fool, wanting you to mow in this weather. He's gonna get you killed out there. Along with your grass," Mr. Hastings added bitterly.

"Dear," his wife chided.

Mr. Hastings shrugged it off. "Next time you gotta do it, just borrow our rider. You'll be done in ten minutes. And if you get out there before the sun's up, you can be back in the shade before breakfast."

Tommy frowned. "I didn't want to be a bother."

They both gasped at that. "Now, is that why you didn't come say hi to us, when you came back from school?" Mrs. Hastings asked. "I wouldn't have even known you were back if your mother hadn't said anything."

Tommy looked between them and sipped at his water again, feeling ashamed. "I'm sorry. I-"

"Didn't want to be a bother?" Mr. Hastings finished, and mussed up the front of his hair. "Ugh! You are wet, boy!" he shouted, his hand slicked with sweat.

"He's ill, Marty! Let him be for a minute!" she snapped again.

Mr. Hastings waved her off. "Gah! You sit there and have a drink. And just mind where you're dripping, son. I'll be right back."

Then he was gone. The sound of his riding lawn mower roared to life a few minutes later. He was back before Tommy finished his second glass.

"All done!" Mr. Hastings called out. He went behind their bar and made himself a drink. There was hardly a drop of sweat on his forehead. Only then did Tommy realize what had happened.

"Oh, you didn't have to do that! Thank you so much-" Tommy started, and Mr. Hastings cut him off.

"It's no trouble, so it's not worth discussing. Now," he said, clapping his belly, "I think a dip in the pool will cool you down faster. And you can thank me by jumping in that shower first," he said, nodding to the outdoor stall they had beside the pool.

It hadn't been there growing up. The walls of it seemed pretty well-sealed but, from where Tommy sat, he could see the bamboo door left gaps. It wasn't enough to see everything, but... it wasn't enough to block everything, either. Tommy glanced at it, then back to the Hasting's, but they were paying him no mind.

"Oh, I don't-"

"If you say that you're bothering us one more time, I will swat your little behind, Tommy Richards," Mrs. Hastings cut in. "Now, I'm going to make some lemonade. There's towels inside the stall. Marty's going to go find you a swimmin' suit. And then you're going to stop with all that 'bother' talk, do you understand?"

Tommy nodded quickly.

"Just throw your clothes over the wall after you get changed and I'll take them in to get cleaned."

Tommy started to open his mouth again by instinct, but quickly shut it when her eyes grew fierce. "Yes, ma'am," he said instead.

The shower was icy at first, but he felt better by the time the temperature leveled out. His head was clear again when he heard the shuffling sound of feet outside the walls.

He had forgotten about the gaps in the door until he saw Mrs. Hastings eyes meet his. She bent down to collect his clothes. It was only for a moment, but she had looked his way.

From nowhere, his cock jutted to life, bright red and eager. It bobbed in the cool spray of the shower. He turned the temperature down as cold as it would go, and waited for it to abate.

He was halfway there when he heard Mr. Hastings' voice call over the wall, "You ready for it in there?"

Tommy's face flushed. Then he remembered the swim trunks. "Yes," he said.

"Huh? What's that?" Mr. Hastings asked.

Tommy saw him step in front of the door, and Tommy turned away quickly, hiding himself. "Yeah, you can throw them over," he shouted, his voice cracking. He heard the sound of the trunks slap against the wall. "Thank you," he added.

He waited in the icy water until he was finally limp again, then changed quickly into the borrowed swimsuit. It was twice too big for him. Even when he pulled the drawstrings as tight as they would go, they hung loose over the bones of his hip. They were held up by a prayer and what a girl had once called his "crazy bubblebutt."

When he stepped outside, Mrs. Hastings was carrying a pitcher of lemonade and glasses. Mr. Hastings was carrying a bottle of vodka. He generously filled his glass with it, and then his wife's.

The sun had dipped past their treeline, and the water was perfectly cool and refreshing. Tommy shut his eyes and floated in the middle of it. The last of the heat quickly seeped out of him. When he announced that he was completely better again, Mr. Hastings brought him a raft to lay on. For a long time, he shut his eyes, sipped ice cold lemonade, and floated peacefully. It was like being twelve years old all over again.

He heard something shuffle beside him, and his eyes flickered open on instinct. It was Mrs. Hastings. She was bent over by the side of the pool and facing him, her heavy breasts nearly spilling out of her two-piece as she picked leaves from the ground.

It was as if the heat exhaustion had hit him again. His mind went empty, refusing all commands to look away. It wasn't until her eyes caught his again that he managed to throw himself over the side of the raft and into the water.

He stayed under, sitting against the bottom, praying for the end of the world. His cock unhelpfully jutted back to life, full steam. He crossed his legs under the water and emerged only when he had ran out of breath.

But, when he looked around, Mr. Hastings was pouring more drinks and Mrs. Hastings was back to sweeping the pavement. She either hadn't seen or wasn't going to say anything about it. Either way, it seemed like time to go home and never return. Well, once his dick calmed down again.

And it might have, if the picture of her cleavage wasn't permanently etched into his mind. I could drown in them, he thought.

"Hey, come over here." It was Mr. Hastings. He had called out from the door of the back porch, then disappeared inside again.

Tommy's eyes went wide. That wasn't going to work. His eyes searched out for a towel, and he found one laying a few feet from the pool. He checked that Mrs. Hastings was still busy with her leaves and, when her husband turned around again, Tommy sprinted from the pool, grabbed it, and wrapped it around himself. He waddled quickly over and went inside through the door.

"Climb up there and grab me that bottle on the right there, would ya?" Mr. Hastings asked as he cracked ice on the counter.

Tommy's heart sank and his flush growing redder. He pulled his towel tight and stepped onto a small step stool. He grabbed for a bottle of bourbon that was just out of reach.

It only took one step to undo the towel's knot. He moved quickly to lower the bottle, to hide his erection. The motion of it knocked his towel completely free. He turned just in time for his cock to nearly swipe Mr. Hastings across the chin. Mrs. Hastings opened the door a moment later, and dropped her broom onto the floor in a clatter. Her eyes bulged wide and her mouth fell open.

All of their eyes were held on his comically tented swim trunks. The room went absolutely silent.

"Oh dear." Mrs. Hastings was the first to speak.

"This was my fault, Marty," she said. "I wasn't dressed very appropriately. He's a young man, I should have thought about it instead of grabbing any old thing."

Her husband snorted. "The kid's got good taste, at least." He swatted Tommy on the hip.

Mr. Hastings took the bottle of bourbon from the boy's hands, filled half a glass, and went back to making their drinks. When he finished, he passed one to his wife. They clinked glasses, and drank deeply.

Tommy was frozen on the step stool, his hands now covering his crotch. His cheeks burned as badly as they had under the sun. His heart pumped wildly. His cock still throbbed against the front of his swimsuit, stretching it taut. The pressure from his hands as he tried to hold it down only made it harder.

The Hastings seemed to forget him for a moment as they finished their boozy lemonades.

"Oh dear," he heard her say again. Tommy looked up and saw Mrs. Hastings watching him again. "I think I've embarrassed him, dear. I'm so sorry, honey. But there's nothing to be embarrassed about. It's perfectly natural for a boy your age. And I'm very flattered."

"She does it to me all the time, too," Mr. Hastings grinned, his cheeks glowing nearly as red as Tommy's as he tapped the boy with his elbow.

"I'm going to go," Tommy announced, stepping down from the stool.

"I told you," Mrs. Hastings said, and her hand touched Tommy's chest.

She stepped closer again. Her breasts filled his view. They strained against the small straps of her top. He looked quickly up to the ceiling. "You're not bothering anyone," she said in a low voice. "It's my fault. And I'll take care of it."

There was a jerk as Tommy's swim shorts were tugged down to his knees. He looked down in time to see her lips parting. She took the head of his cock into her mouth and slid down the length of it easily.

The breath went out of him like he'd been struck in the stomach. Her lips reached the end of him. She held for a moment, and then she slipped back with her lips squeezed tighter. She popped from the head with a gasp of air.

"Yum," she purred. And then she went back for more.

Her mouth was warm, and wet. Her tongue circled, churning against him in her mouth. Her lipstick was bright red, and streaks of it lead all the way up from the hilt. He watched his cock sinking into her mouth. When he saw her eyes on his, his body spasmed.

She pulled him out of her mouth as the first jets of cum began spraying out. She jerked at his cock, spilling his seed across her breasts in white, ropey strands.

Again and again his body trembled. He laid against the wall and let her finish stroking the last drops out. She wiped him clean between her cleavage, and then she pulled his shorts up.

"Better?" she asked, wiping the edges of her mouth.

Tommy's mouth opened. He sunk lower against the wall, gasping like a fish.

"Babe?" she said, turning to her husband.

"Hm? Ah. Come here then," he said, waving her over. She leaned back and brushed her hair behind her shoulders. Mr. Hastings dipped her back like a dancer. His tongue began to drag across her chest slowly. Over and over again he stroked at her, until he had licked every last drop.

"Thank you," she said, her voice high and sing-songy. She flicked a finger against her husband's bulging erection, and grinned back at the Tommy's crotch. "Such strong men I have here," she said.

She dropped her napkin to the ground. "Thank goodness. I can be so helpless," she said breathlessly.

She turned around and stretched down to her toes, thrusting her wide ass into the air. Tommy could see the thin fabric of her swimsuit stretching tighter between the cheeks of her ass. He could see the thick curve of her mound taking shape as she bent lower, her palms touching flat against the ground.

She peeked over her shoulders at Tommy. This time, he didn't look away. She batted her eyes back at him.

"I think he likes what he sees," Mr. Hastings growled.

Mrs. Hastings bit at her lip and nodded. Her ample ass bobbed in the air. Her eyes were still held on his.

"And did you like his cock, dear?" her husband asked.

Her head nodded faster.

Mr. Hastings grabbed Tommy by the shoulder and cast a glance down the boy's body. "Looks pretty goddamn big, babe. Are you sure you could handle it?"

This time, she shook her head no. Her face looked frightened.

Tommy looked down between his legs. They were making it sound like he had some kind of monster. It was eight inches on a good day. He couldn't tell if they were teasing him or not.

Mr. Hastings stepped forward, and slipped his wife's swimsuit down her legs.

Tommy's body blushed. He'd only seen a woman online before. And here she was. A pelt of fur surrounded pink lips. Thick, clear strands trailed out as her suit was pulled open. She bent lower, and pressed her butt even higher into the air. He could see her puckered asshole in front of him, too. His body felt frozen. It was too surreal.

Tommy took a step forward. Mrs. Hastings was still watching him. Her cheeks were as flushed red as her husband's. Her wide ass continued to sway back and forth in front of him. He couldn't have stuck it inside her if he wanted to. It was moving too much. She seemed to be taunting him.

"Like this, son," Mr. Hastings said, and he moved behind the boy.

With one calloused, tanned hand, he latched onto Tommy's cock by the base, held a hand on his wife's ass to steady her, and pulled the boy forward by his manhood.

Tommy gasped as he felt the wetness of her. He slid inside of her easily, sinking down to the hilt. She gasped, too. Then it grew to a moan and her hips pushed into him. The cheeks of her ass were soft and pillowy. He nearly dropped to his knees from the pleasure of it. Her husband's hands moved to Tommy's shoulders, and he pulled the boy upright before he could sag.

Instinct overtook everything else. Tommy's hips pumped. First, slowly, and awkwardly. Then faster. Each stroke took his breath away. Soon, his moans were matching hers. She sank to her hands and knees, and Tommy leaned forward to stay with her. She shook violently, screaming with pleasure. The walls of her pussy gripped at him hard, then released. Over and over again.

"Don't stop now," Mr. Hastings snapped. "Keep going, she's almost there." His hand guided Tommy lower to the ground, and the boy sank to his knees. He began to thrust again. Her shouts got louder, and her body grew redder.

"Just like that," Mr. Hastings breathed. "She likes it just like that."

Tommy shut his eyes. The inside of her grew wider, and slicker. The sound as she pumped back into him grew wetter. He was nearly there when Mr. Hastings' thick finger stroked against his asshole. He glided in the slick sweat between the boy's cheeks.

Tommy choked down a cry. The shock of it was quickly followed by the most intense wave of pleasure. It ran down his body, building up pressure like a bomb.

Mrs. Hastings gripped him tight, clenching him between the thick cheeks of her ass. She screamed madly in orgasm, her legs quivering, her body glistening with sweat. The muscles inside her gripped at him wildly, crushing the length of his cock.

But, at the same time, as his wife began to scream into the air, Mr. Hastings held Tommy still and pushed his longest finger into the boy's ass. The muscles of Tommy's body squeezed back at it, gripping it hard.

The boy let out a deafening moan, and his body spasmed hard. She pushed her hips back into him, driving him in deeper. Her husband dug the thick finger in harder, pushing his body forward. Tommy buried into her as deep as he could go. He squeezed the old man's finger as he emptied his sack into the man's wife.

Mr. Hastings stroked at Tommy's balls gently until the boy was done.

Mrs. Hastings collapsed onto the ground, and Tommy fell down with her. His cock was still planted deeply inside, soaking in cum. Mr. Hastings slipped his finger out and stroked at both of their legs with his clean hand.

They laid like that for a very long time. After awhile, Tommy went soft enough to slip out of her. They both gasped as it popped free. His semen spilled out a trail behind it. She turned over onto her back, and grinned over the boy's shoulder.

Tommy looked from her to her husband. They were looking only at each other, smiling widely.

From the corner of his eye, Tommy saw her hand begin to move. She reached between her legs, and her fingers began dragging softly against the furry mound. She smeared the thick white cum around in circles. Her eyes were still locked onto her husband.

Tommy hadn't noticed Mr. Hastings taking off his suit, but the man was nude now. His cock was small, and thin, and rock hard. It bobbed in the air, dribbling clear drops onto the ground as he watched his wife.