The MILF Next Door and Friend Ch. 01

em>Editor's note: this story contains scenes of incest or incest content.

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There's a MILF lives next door to me. I am a 20 year-old just about to start university, by the name of Mark Johnson. I finished grammar school at just 17 with A levels and a scholarship and a university acceptance, but felt too young and immature to go that September. My birthday is in August so I would have been just 18, and I just didn't feel I was ready to leave home. Instead I did a third year in the Sixth form, which took me to approaching my 19th birthday. A 6-3 year means you cover much of your first year university syllabus but in the school methods you are used to with teachers you are used to. It's supposed to give you a flying start at university and time to adapt to the change in teaching methods from classroom to lecture room. After that, I worked for two years as a building site laborer which developed a good tan and muscles. So now I am coming up 21 and ready to face the big wide world on my own.

But back to the MILF. Her name is Mrs. Julie Thompson, except Mr. Thompson had long fled the scene with some nymphomaniac, according to local gossip. Mrs. Thompson keeps herself fit, but never seems to have any regular male friends or visitors. Rumor has it she enjoys a couple of cruises a year, which is where perhaps she indulged herself, and that she had sold his business and was financially well set. The point, though, is that Mr. Thompson was my mother's cousin. We say was, because no-one has heard from him in years, so he could be dead and buried for all Mum knows. Anyway, at the start of my last pre-university summer, I was not doing much site work, as I wanted a long rest and relaxation period. and to enjoy the sun, before all the studying started up. I had a good sum of money already put by for Uni, and my Dad's old car.

One warm day in early May I happened to look out of my window towards Mrs. Thompson's and there she was, swimming in her pool. Her shoulder length dark hair was not under a cap, and clung to her skull as she swam. Now I had seen her swimming occasionally previously, normally in very conservative swimsuits, but never had I seen her in a bikini before. On the basis that the price of a bikini is inversely proportional to the amount of fabric it took to make it - and I am good at Maths - the size of this bikini made it one of the most expensive ever made. Mrs. Thompson was full-breasted, as in much more so than Mum, and Mum's bra, I know for a fact, is 36D, and she was full-hipped as one might expect from a mother of two - neither of which was still at home. Her waist was pretty trim, judging from the difference between it and her hips. Knowing her eldest daughter was 25 and married, I figured Mrs. Thompson was fifty-ish at least. That made her a few years older than my Mum, but they were good friends, age difference and defunct husbands notwithstanding. My Mum is on her own too. My Dad, Jack, died around the time I left grammar school, another good reason to defer university for a while. Mum was still an attractive woman with a good figure and short, curly blond hair. Another MILF, actually.

Anyway, I watched Mrs. Thompson swim for the whole time from first seeing her to when she went indoors. Must have been at least half an hour. Minutes after she disappeared, my phone rang. I looked. Oh, my God, it was the MILF. She had my number from me doing some work for her in the garden over the previous two years.

"So, are you going to watch me swim every morning?"

"Er, I mean, er, I dunno, I mean, I just happened to see you for a moment."

"A moment that lasted half an hour, it would appear. Perhaps I had better start expecting you to watch me every morning, around the same time your Mum leaves. Is that why you're brave enough to watch me? Mum's at work?"

She put the phone down.

I was confused. Did she not appreciate being watched? Was I being told not to watch? But if that was the case, why tell me she swam at the same time every day? She had swum breaststroke and backstroke, so giving me a full look at exactly how much fabric was contained in the black bikini, and how much of her was not contained in it, so why tell me when she swam if she didn't want me to watch? Because of easing back on the hours laboring, it was only recently I started being at home after Mum left for the Doctor's office where she worked. Prior to today, I had no idea Mrs. T. was a regular swimmer at that time in a morning. I had only caught her on the occasional weekend previously.

Then, it dawned on me. She did want me to watch. She wanted me to know when to watch, and she wanted me to know that she would expect me after Mum had gone to work. And she knew I was home for the summer and not out working. And the summer was just starting. Some days, I'm Duh!

That first Mrs. T. bikini day was a Monday in early May. Tuesday she was out there, diving in about two minutes after the garage doors closed behind Mum's departing car. Today's bikini was the same size as the previous one - so far as I could tell - but a bright turquoise color. I stood at my window in my briefs, although with the height of the window, I would have just looked shirtless to her. She didn't acknowledge my presence. No waves or shouts or anything, just length after length, some breaststroke, some backstroke. I didn't do anything while she swam, but when she went indoors, I dropped on to my bed, shed the briefs and released the enormous hard-on I had acquired.

I had just come when my phone buzzed for a text.

"Did you relieve the pressure?"

I waited, then typed "What do you mean?" Even though I knew exactly what she meant.

A pause.

"Did you relieve the pressure of enjoying watching me?"

"Yes"

"Got another new bikini for tomorrow."

There was no need to respond to that, and she didn't send any more texts that morning. Only a mere 23 hours and a few minutes to go, not that anyone was counting, right?

Wednesday, she wore a white bikini. This time, I was naked but managed to not play with myself until she went indoors. Not playing for all that time was a big challenge, because whatever material this bikini was made from went totally translucent when wet. I could clearly see the two dark brown areas that were her areolas. And the small black triangle that was her pubic hair. This morning, she seemed to be concentrating on her back stroke, while I was concentrating on that dark triangle. I stood there, as still as one of those human statues on Las Ramblas in Barcelona.

Sure enough, soon after my internal pressures were alleviated, my phone buzzed.

"Did you like the new outfit?"

"Yes, my favorite so far"

"Couldn't tell, as there was no reaction to it."

"You mean you want to see my reaction."

"Why not? Encouragement is good."

A totally proper and correct conversation, but both of us knew what she was asking.

Thursday, the white bikini was back, and she dived in and then surfaced on her back. Today, she didn't do much swimming. She lay in the water floating as much as possible, with the two dark circles and the even darker triangle clearly visible. She was clearly giving me a show. I made sure she could see that I was responding to her very obvious temptations. I deposited a good-sized load into the wad of tissue I had pre-prepared.

The phone buzzed.

"I like a man who follows instructions."

Short and sweet. I didn't reply, figuring I was again following instructions.

Friday she wore the turquoise bikini that was not at all transparent. Nevertheless, I stroked myself to a climax, timing it for just as she got out of the pool. As I came, she reached behind her back and undid the bikini top, holding it in her right hand as it went back down by her side. Her full creamy-white breasts with those big dark areolas were suddenly there for me to stare at. As I stopped stroking, she squeezed and jiggled both breasts, then went indoors.

There was no text for quite a while. I was cleaned up and dressed by the time it came through.

"Did you enjoy the view?"

"Very much, Had a very good reaction."

"I saw."

"I take it you have relieved your pressures too? The cause of the delay."

"Of course; a woman has needs too. No swimming over the weekend and if you want to watch me on Monday, you had better be in my garden. Do you have trunks?"

"Yes"

"Wear them."

71 hours to go. It was going to be a long frustrating weekend, as I resolved not to relieve myself until after her swim on Monday.

Monday, I came out of my room as soon as I heard the garage doors close. I was dressed in swim trunks that were more like shorts than a speedo, and a T-shirt. I opened the gate to Mrs. T's back garden and sat on a wooden seat on the pool deck. Two minutes later, Mrs. T emerged and dived into the pool wearing the white bikini. She swam two and a half lengths, until she was in front of me in the middle of the pool. She dived completely under the water, and then her hand - and only her hand - surfaced, holding her bikini top up, like she was the Lady of the Lake emerging with a sword. Without surfacing, she threw the top on to the pool deck towards me. Then she surfaced and began to swim backstroke. She swam a few more lengths as I looked, alternately, at her dark triangle and her creamy white breasts each with it's brown circle. She watched me intently as she swam by.

"Take the shirt off and jump in, the temperature is fine." They were the first words she said, not even an hello or anything. I pulled the T-shirt off and jumped in and swam over to her. She let her feet touch the bottom of the pool, and looked at her breasts, just breaking the surface of the water where she was standing. I looked too.

"Like what you see?"

"Very much."

I stood in the water about a yard away from her. She stepped right up to me so her breasts rubbed against my chest. Then she put her arms around my neck and kissed me. She was only a few inches shorter than me, and I tilted my head down a little, and she was running her tongue against my lips, which opened, and suddenly her tongue was in my mouth, and her wet nipples were hard against my chest, right in line with the surface of the water, which was lapping around us quite erotically.

"Did that feel good?" she asked as she broke the kiss and moved back a few inches.

"Very good." I managed to say without stuttering.

"And this....?" and she grabbed my cock through my trunks.

"Even b-b-better..."

"I see." She pulled on the ties on the side of the bikini bottoms and they floated to the surface. She threw them to the pool deck.

"Get yours off too."

I took my trunks off and threw them to the deck.

"Now I need to get my lengths in the pool in first...."

"Before...?"

"Before you get your length in me, of course. Now swim!"

We swam lengths for about half an hour. I could swim noticeably faster than her and had several lengths more in than her before she called a halt.

"Come in the house. And pick up those clothes as you do."

I picked them up and followed her ass into the house. I happened to see her bikini top said 36EE, not that I was really looking.

We stepped into the kitchen and she threw me a towel. "Dry me."

Remembering what she had messaged about men who obey instructions, I dried her down, standing behind her and reaching around to use the towel on her breasts. They felt pretty firm. I worked my way down until I was reaching between her legs with the towel and drying her vagina off. My hardened cock was rubbing against her bum and lower back as I moved, making concentration difficult. Then I started on her back and bum. She really did have a great mature figure, with real curves in all the right places.

She grabbed another towel and wrapped her hair in it. A third towel she took to dry me. I don't think I have ever taken a quarter that long to dry my cock and balls. She really made sure they were bone dry and ready for action.

"So, young Mark, are you a virgin?"

"Technically, yes."

"What's that mean? Technically yes?"

"It means I went skinny dipping last summer with a young lady, and afterwards, we cuddled up naked and touched each other, but she wouldn't let me go all the way."

"Did you want to? Go all the way, I mean?"

"Part of me did, but I wasn't interested in dating her, so looking back, I'm glad we didn't. She's pregnant now, and we both know it isn't mine."

"Good for you. Would you like to loose your virginity. Not this morning, I have decided, but soon. This morning we can just play around and learn a few things."

I almost laughed, but figured she might think it rude.

"Are you offering me a practical course in Advanced Sex Ed?"

"You could put it that way, if you want. I'll teach you how to please a woman, and in return, will myself be pleased by a quite attractive, hunky young man. Seems a fair deal to me."

"If you don't mind me asking, how come an attractive fit woman like yourself doesn't have a man in her life?"

"The answer is in your question."

"Meaning....?"

"I have had many men in my life, often more than one at once, but never just 'a man'. At least, not since my jerk of a husband. Get my point?"

"I see. Something about variety being the spice of life?"

"More like, if you date one man exclusively, he thinks he owns you. I don't want to be owned. Plus, as I don't know where my husband is, I am still technically married, and can use that as a self-defense against anyone getting too close. Although, when it comes to him, I could have him declared legally dead this year."

This conversation had taken place with us standing in her kitchen about 4 feet apart, and each holding a towel we had finished using. She grabbed my towel and threw it with hers on to the kitchen table.

"Sit down," she said, pointing to a chair. I did.

She knelt in front of my legs and opened my knees wide. She looked at my cock and balls. She didn't touch, just looked, but her being there naked, her wonderfully self-supporting creamy white boobs right in front of me where I couldn't help but look at them, made sure it was at full hardness, or at least I thought I was.

She put a hand on each knee and pushed them as far apart as they would go. Then she leaned forwards and licked the top of my cock, where the head was peeping out of the foreskin.

"You like?"

"Y-Yes. Very much."

Then her mouth opened wide, and my cock started to disappear, slowly being swallowed in. She was not wearing any lip stick, but still the color of her lips still contrasted with her skin color and with my cock. I watched it disappear, wondering if I would ever see it again. One big bite and I could be a eunuch for life! She gagged a little and repositioned herself and suddenly her lips were right down to my pubic hair. Now, I am not bragging, but if I stand a coke can on my tummy when I have a hard-on, the tip of my cock stands taller than the top of the can, and here it was gone completely into her mouth. I could feel the suction on it caused by her mouth and whatever she was doing to breathe. One hand grabbed my balls and squeezed them and twisted and pulled on the ball sac. If she kept this up much longer I would cum.

Just as I was about to warn her, she pulled back. I could tell that because of her ministrations, the cock that came out was definitely larger than the one that went in.

"So did you skinny dipping partner do that to you?"

"No, she just gave me a hand job."

"Was it better than when you do it yourself?"

"It was different, not having to make it happen, just laying there and feeling all the feelings, if you know what I mean."

"Indeed. So you've never been deep-throated before?"

"No."

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

"No, I thought one girl was becoming a possibility - we went to the movies a couple of times, but she chose a guy with a sports car over me. I guess my dad's old Toyota that I inherited didn't have the right cachet."

"Well, perhaps my girlfriend and I can share you for the summer, till you go to university, and make up for all you've missed."

"Your girlfriend?"

"Yes."

"As in a woman you have sex with?"

"Yes, why not? Sex with another woman is very enjoyable and completely different to sex with just a man. Then again, sex with a man and a woman at the same time is even more different. It might just be your lucky summer....!"

I sat there without saying a word. Mrs. T. was bi-sexual! It was a fantastic enough thought that this woman was going to be my sex mentor for a whole summer, but to include the other woman as well was beyond a 20-year-old's fantasy.

"I am not going to tell you, yet, who the other woman is, but she knows of the possibilities of what might happen."

"You mean you've been setting me up for this?"

"Yes. Why not? Good-looking young well-hung men do not grow on trees, you know. They have to be hunted, discovered, nurtured and then finally captured and trained. So given what's happened this morning, we've already got you as far as 'captured', don't you think?"

And with that she started to give me a hand job and with all that had happened, and been said, and from all the flesh I could see, including the gentle movement of those creamy white breasts, that hand-job did not take long. I shuffled my bum forwards so she could aim my ejaculation on to my stomach, but instead she lowered her head and aimed my cum straight into her mouth without touching her lips on my cock. And then she swallowed.

She stood up, picked up her bikini pieces, said "See you tomorrow, please be already naked," and turned around and walked out of the kitchen. I put my clothes on, still wet, and went home for a shower. I looked at the clock. Twenty two hours and 15 minutes to go. And this time, I was counting!

And all week was just a repeat of Monday. Actually, 'Just' makes it sound tame. She swam topless and I swam naked, then she sat me down and gave me a blow job, either beside the pool or in the kitchen. On the Friday, she admitted that that week had been her 'woman's week' but she would make it up to me the next week. Though after 5 great blow jobs, I wasn't sure what she had to make up for.

It was a frustrating weekend. It really took an effort not to beat off, because every time I reflected on the previous few days, I got hard. Every time I worked out the number of hours to Monday morning, I got hard. Mum went over to Mrs. T's for coffee, and I was nervously wondering if she was going to tell Mum what had happened, but nothing was said when she came back, so obviously it was still our little secret.

For some reason, on Monday Mum was a little later than usual going to work, and I wondered if Mrs. T. was thinking I had chickened out. But eventually she left, and I slid out of our back gate and through Mrs. T's and whipped my trunks and T-shirt off. I sat on the seat and waited. After a couple of minutes, she came out of the kitchen and walked up to me. She was naked, stark naked.

"So your Mum was a little late leaving today? Did that get you worried?"

"A bit."

"And horny?"

I laughed. "Yes. I have never seen a body like yours naked in real life. I saw the girl I skinny dipped with naked, but she was skinny herself. You have a great body, better than a lot of the porn stars I used to watch."

"Used to watch?"

"Yes, having memories of a real woman is much better when I am relieving pressure, as you put it."

"I see."

She walked up to me, straddled my knees and lowered her naked butt on to my thighs. She guided my face between her boobs, and pressed them against me. It was a good job I took a deep breath as she did, or I could have been suffocated. Her boobs were warm and smooth. She leaned back and started to rub one nipple along my lips. I stuck the tip of my tongue out and licked the nipple each time it went past. She held it still, and I sucked it into my mouth.