Walking the Dog - New Neighbor Pt. 01

The best part of walking your dog in this neighborhood is that you meet other people out doing the same thing. After a couple of good years and a couple of wonderful sexual encounters, a new face arrived on the scene.

***

When Meg and her husband Jonathan moved in up the street two years ago, I thought they were going to be good neighbors. Meg was a short, curvy brunette with a cheerful smile, and Jonathan was an intense but friendly college professor nearby. Sadly, they've had their share of troubles, and Jonathan moved out last spring. The two young kids stayed with Meg, and her parents help take care of them-fortunately, they live close by.

No one, however, was able to help with their dog. Meg was still working part time as a nurse, and because of her erratic schedule, there were days when that poor mutt was home for eight hours all by himself. At a neighborhood function, I found myself volunteering since I get home early after school, and Meg and I exchanged cell phone numbers. After that, I would go over with my own dog and take Jackson out as well. If the kids and grandparents were there, I would say hello and chat. If not, he would greet me eagerly at the door and pull me down their walkway energetically. He listened well, but needed a lot of active time after a day of napping.

Last week, I was coming back up the hill toward Meg's house at 3:00 pm when my phone dinged. The dogs were happy to stop and sniff around, so I dug it out of my pocket and hit the message button.

"Hey!" was the intro from Meg. "I bet you're probably doing it right now-but thanks for taking care of Jackson so much." Angel emoji.

"Glad to help" I thumb-typed back.

"Is there any way you could cover me for the rest of the night? I'm going to be here until late and my parents are taking the kids for a movie and a sleepover later. Jackson's going to be alone for like eight hours!" Worried face emoji.

"Sure. I'll feed him now and walk him later"

"You're the best!" Smiley face. Heart.

A thumbs-up emoji was my reply.

So it went. I fed Jackson, got him settled, and went home. I even brought in the mail and a package from the front porch and set it on the kitchen counter. In a few hours, I cooked dinner and then graded papers while my wife cleaned the kitchen. Typical evening, right? Somewhere in there, I mentioned walking Jackson, and we chatted for a while about how stressed Meg was getting with this crazy schedule.

Around 9:00, my wife gave me a peck on the lips and headed for bed.

"What time are you going to go over there?" she asked.

"Not for another half-hour or so-I'm almost done with this stack of essays."

"Well, don't stay up too late!"

I smiled and reassured her that I wouldn't.

The essays took forever-lots of constructive feedback helps students, after all. It was 10:30 by the time I finished, and 10:45 before I geared up to get Jackson out for his walk. There aren't many streetlights in our area, so I took along a flashlight and we made our way up and down the hill. I was actually in Meg's kitchen when I saw her headlights swing across the wall. Jackson went crazy, barking excitedly, so I held him back until she was parked and then let him out. He barreled along the path and circled the car wildly.

Meg got out of the car and greeted him, rubbing his head all the way back into the house. He trotted along with her and they headed right for the cabinet where the dog treats lived. When she took one out, he started to jump up, but she sat him firmly down and made him wait a minute before she let him have it-good training! He flopped down on the floor to gnaw on it contentedly. Meg crouched by his side and scratched under his collar. Her scrubs pulled taut across her wide hips and full breasts, and I caught myself admiring her body for the first time. I usually go for longer, leaner women, but Meg's curves were getting to me! We chatted about Jackson for a few minutes, and then she stood up, dusted the fur off her hands, and opened the fridge.

"I'm going to have a beer and go to bed," Meg said. "Do you want one?"

"Sure. It was a long night of grading!" I said with a smile.

She opened two bottles and passed me one. Jackson came back and I rubbed his ears while Meg chatted idly about her day and glanced at the mail. When she got to the package, she looked puzzled, but slashed the tape with a pair of scissors. The inner box offered no more information, and our conversation dwindled while she tugged on the folded-in ends and tried to get it open.

"Holy shit-the way they sealed this thing, it better be something priceless!" she joked.

"Want me to try? I've got a pocket knife."

"Thanks," she said, sliding it across the marble countertop.

I didn't mess with the flaps-I just found an opening and slid my knife along the seam. I could hear styrofoam squeaking, so I knew whatever inside was protected. Nothing happened after the first cut, though, so I turned the box and did the same for the other side. This time, when I lifted, the flap ends fell open.

"Ta da!" I said proudly, pushing the box back to her.

"After all that build-up," she said as she tugged on the styrofoam, "it better be good!"

It was. She opened the clamshell of white foam and there, lying in all its glory, was a slender silver vibrator. We both froze, emotions flashing across our respective faces.

"Oh, shit!" she said frantically, trying without success to close the shell and stuff the thing back into its box. "God dammit!"

I couldn't help it. I laughed. When she looked up with an irritated expression, I quickly changed my tune. "I'm sorry-I didn't mean to laugh! It's not funny...it's just that you looked so..."

With a hiccup, Meg laughed as well. "I'm sorry-I'm not mad. I'm just so embarrassed!"

She was still trying to stuff the styrofoam back into the box. I reached across the counter and put my hand on top of hers, stopping her scrabbling motion.

"Meg-seriously. I'm not laughing, and I'm not embarrassed. It's totally your business, and I'm sorry I was here when you opened it. Not a big deal. Really."

She stopped her useless reconstruction and kept laughing.

"This is so...ridiculous!" she managed to say between chuckles.

"Nah...it's just a toy. We all have something!" I was trying to be reassuring again, but her continued giggling was infectious, and I found myself chuckling along with her.

"Yeah...I'm sure you sit down every night and play with your vibrator!" she snorted, grinning.

"Well...not exactly."

She snorted again.

"So I just admitted that I do and you haven't said a damn thing!"

"Well...that's a fair point," I admitted with a grin. "I'll even it up. I don't have a vibrator, but I do take care of my needs when no one else is around. That's what I meant by 'we all have something,' ya see?"

"Yeah, I see," she said grudgingly. "It's just that you didn't whip out your...whatever...on the kitchen counter in front of your handsome neighbor!"

That word "handsome" hung in the air between us like an opportunity. I tried to gauge her expression, but Meg covered it with a sip of her beer and then looked down, avoiding eye contact. Did she mean that? Was I reading into it?

"Meg," I began, groping for the words to break the awkward silence, "I don't use a vibrator, but I do look at porn, and I do fantasize about real people as well. It's all part of normal life, right?"

She nodded, but she didn't look up or reply.

"So what's the problem?" I asked gently.

"Jonathan," she said simply. "We weren't...you know...for a long time, and that's part of why he left. And now, when I finally start to "take care of my needs" like you said, this happens! God dammit! It's like I'm not allowed to..." Her words trailed off, and she hiccuped again, this time when a sob escaped her. She hung her head and put her hands flat on the countertop.

With a quick step, I close the distance between us. Careful not to cross any lines, I wrapped one arm around her and gave her a squeeze.

"You're allowed to do whatever feels good, Meg. It's not anybody's business what you do or who you think about or what toys you order...you're just trying to feel normal again."

That was me at my reassuring best, and I could tell it was working because she took a couple of deep breaths when I finished my quiet phrases. She smiled wanly at me through brimming eyes and then reached across to the napkin holder. Pulling one out, she dabbed her eyes and then turned shyly away from me and blew her nose. Tossing the tissue onto the counter, she turned back toward me. My arm was still around her shoulder, and she stepped into my sideways embrace, put her forehead on my chest and gave me a quick squeeze around the waist. Her voice was muffled in this position, but I heard the words, "Thank you" come up.

Not knowing what else to do, I kissed the top of her head and gave her a quick half-squeeze in return. My left arm stayed in neutral position holding my beer on the counter.

Her muffled voice came to my ears again: "Steve...can I tell you something?"

"Sure. Anything."

"When I ordered that, I was trying to be normal and feel good."

"I know, Meg. That's a good step."

"Shut up for a minute, okay?"

She lifted her face to look at me, pulling back just enough to watch my expression. She then took a deep breath and continued.

"I ordered that vibrator because I was tired of getting myself off with just my fingers. I've been having this fantasy over and over about a guy I know, and then it was just me making myself come. I figured if I had a vibrator, I could pretend it was someone else playing with me or filling me up. Is that stupid?"

"Not at all. I fantasize about all kinds of things. They're just fantasies, but if something helps them work better, it's gotta be OK."

"I guess so. It makes me feel better that you fantasize about people, too. I know you're married and all, and I know how that is."

"Yeah. It's just fantasy, right?" I said uncertainly.

"What if it isn't?" she asked evenly. "What if the person you fantasize about is right in front of you? Is that normal and OK?"

"Meg..." I stuttered. "I'm not really sure..."

"Oh, God, I'm sorry!" Meg burst out, burying her head in my chest again, her shoulders heaving with sobs. "I'm so stupid! I shouldn't have told you that! You're married, and I'm friends with your wife, and she's so pretty."

"Shh...it's OK," I murmured, holding her close again.

Slowly, her sobbing slowed down. Her arms were around my waist again, and she pulled herself close to me. I could feel her body's firm curves through the thin cotton of her scrubs, and I was conscious of the swell of her breasts pressing my stomach and the pressure of her thigh against the inside of mine. My cock, fortunately, had some space because it was level with her waist and therefore not quite touching her, otherwise she would have felt its arousal.

"Can I ask you a question?" she said once she was back under control.

"Sure."

"Am I one of the people you fantasize about when you...?"

Now that I knew where she was heading, I answered her more confidently.

"You are, Meg. I do think about you and fantasize about being with you. You're a beautiful and sexy woman, and I'm glad you moved here!"

She smiled and stepped into my body a bit more. Her leg slipped between mine, and her warm waist pressed firmly against my cock. Then she raised her head and looked directly into my eyes again. This time, there was a challenging quality to her gaze.

"That's really good to hear, because I've been thinking about you for a long time now...even before Jonathan left. When I get a chance to relax, it's you I'm thinking about when I touch myself...in the shower, or in the tub, or in my bed after the kids are asleep. Do you want to know what I think about?"

I think she realized that I was down for whatever she had in mind-after all, I wasn't exactly pulling myself away from her, and my cock was throbbing against her warm body.

"Tell me," I said with a smile.

"I think about you coming over at night and finding me wherever I am when I start fantasizing. If I'm in the kitchen, it happens right here. If I'm in the shower, you come right in. If I'm in my bed and everyone is asleep, I imagine you opening the door, seeing me there, and watching me while you take your clothes off."

"That sounds like exactly what I would do!" I told her with some heat in my voice.

"What...just watch?" she said teasingly.

"For a start!" I told her. "But if I saw you playing with yourself, I would want to join in wherever you were. There's nothing sexier to me than a woman getting herself off!"

"Sit down," she said firmly, pushing me backward toward the tall stools behind me.

I complied, hoisting myself onto the padded seat and taking a sip of my beer.

"I worked a 12-hour shift today," she began. "I'm tired, and I'm sweaty, and I need a shower."

"Okay," I answered, still grinning at her.

"You stay here and pet Jackson. I'm going in to take a shower. I might be in there for a while because I've got this neighbor I've been fantasizing about."

"Take your time," I said with a laugh.

Standing on the tiles in front of me, Meg crossed her arms down to her waist. WIth one smooth motion, she pulled her top off revealing a pale bra straining to contain her breasts. My eyes locked onto her cleavage and she smirked happily. While I was enjoying the sights, she nudged her sneakers off one after the other, settling comfortably and inch lower than before. Her arms then came up to her shoulders and moved the straps of her bra an inch to each side. Deep lines marked her otherwise clear skin.

"See what having big boobs does to a girl?" she asked plaintively. "It's almost not worth it!"

I had no clue how to respond to that. Fortunately, Meg kept things moving along. Her arms went up behind her back, and when she unclasped her bra, it slipped forward a little bit, showing a dark crescent on each breast. "God, that feels good!" she sighed. Then she leaned forward a little bit and let go of the clasp. The straps slid smoothly down her arms, and the full cups hesitated a moment before following suit, falling away and leaving her bare from the waist up.

I made a noise somewhere between a gasp and a grunt when her breasts came fully into view. Meg's arms were by her sides still, and as she stood up, they pushed inward, creating a mammoth line of cleavage that I wanted to bury my face in. She was still smiling. Her dark hair framed her face appealingly, and she stood there twisting slightly while I admired her.

"Meg..." I began again.

"I hope my neighbor doesn't come in while I'm stripping in the kitchen!" she interjected. "That would be so embarrassing. I do this all the time when no one's home...just peel off and head for the shower."

Matching deeds to her words, she hooked a thumb in her waistband at either side and pushed down. With amazing flexibility, she continued that motion all the way to her feet, blocking my view of what she had uncovered, but letting me see a glimpse of her generous hip, broad thigh, and sexy back as she bent over in front of me. When she stood up, she was wearing only her tiny socks. Naturally, my eyes zeroed in on her middle, and I made that admiring noise again as I drank in her pale belly and the soft, neat triangle below. Without thinking I set down my beer and shifted my weight forward, wanting to reach out and caress what I could now see.

"Shower time!" she said with a laugh, and she brushed past me with a laugh. By the time I turned the stool she was disappearing around the corner-all I caught was a glimpse of a wide, creamy buttock before she vanished.

"I hope he comes in right after I finish washing my hair," came her voice from around the corner. "I'll probably be all clean and wet and ready to have some fun!"

I settled back in my seat, bemused by all the events of the last 10 minutes. Jackson looked up at me while I sipped my beer. In the distance, the water turned on, and I heard a shower door rattle. Standing up, I pulled my sweatshirt off.

"Well, Jackson, I hate to keep a lady waiting!" I explained. Then I made a neat pile of my T-shirt, jeans, underwear, and socks on the stool and put my sneakers on top. One last sip of beer to fortify myself, and then I headed down the hall.

In the master bedroom, there was only a bedside lamp on. The bathroom door was almost fully closed, and a slice of light from within illuminated the steam coming through the crack. I stepped quietly across the hardwood floor and the area rugs, took a deep breath, and then nudged the door open wider.

The shower enclosure filled one end of the bathroom. A fixed panel and a swinging door separated the space, and although both were misted with steam, the fan above was doing its job andI could see Meg's succulent form clearly enough. Her back was to the water, and her head hung forward a little bit. One foot was propped on the wide stone ledge in front of her, and one hand was across both breasts, lifting them up with what appeared to be a tight grip on the one nearest me. Her other arm lay down along her side, but her hand was between her legs and I could see her wrist quiver as she strummed her clit with a blurringly fast motion.

"Oh, fuck yes...touch me right there, Steve. Rub my clit and make me cum!"

Hearing my own name, I smiled. I moved closer but did not interrupt. Instead, I absently stroked my fully erect cock and leaned against the wall to watch. Meg released her breasts and I watched them bounce and swing freely. Her liberated hand went between her legs as well, and I could see her curling two fingers into herself, pumping them in and out while she worked her clit with the fingertips of her other hand.

"Oh, god...oh my fucking GOD I'm gonna cum, Steve...fuck me just like that!"

After just 30 seconds more, I was rewarded. With a final wailing "Oh, fuck!", Meg jammed her fingers all the way into her pussy and stopped rubbing her clit. Her back arched, forcing her breasts up, and her long muscles shuddered as her orgasm raced through her body. Every few seconds, I saw her arm tense as she pushed her fingers upward. They were fully inside her already, but the effect must have been powerful because it triggered another shuddering wave of pleasure each time she did it. Again and again her body convulsed with feelings that looked almost painful. Her teeth were bared in a snarl of concentration and lust.

When she finally relaxed, she slumped down on the stone bench in front of her. The water hit only at the bottom of her legs, and she leaned back against the cool tile and tilted her head back as well. Her hands came up to idly play with her breasts, and I saw her lick her lips and breathe deeply as she came down from her explosive climax. A deep flush spread across her chest, and her hair was slicked down in dark waves.

"Meg," I said in a deep, concerned voice. "Is everything OK? I was dropping Jackson off and I heard noises..."

She grinned with her eyes still closed.

"Hey, Steve. Come on in...I'm just in the shower!.

With an answering grin, I pulled open the shower door and stepped inside. From her seat on the bench, Meg scanned my naked from from head to toe, then her eyes descended again to lock onto my cock.

"Were you watching me?" she asked coyly.

"Well, I was concerned..." I said innocently.

"And you're not wearing any clothes because?"

"I thought I might have to come in and help you," I told her.

"And how exactly would you do that?" she asked, putting her hands on her hips.

"Well, first I would check your breathing and give you mouth-to-mouth if you needed it."

At that, I leaned over her, stepping into the shower stream so it fell on my back. Wrapping my fingers in her hair, I turned her head upward and kissed her once softly, then pulled her in closer and let my tongue glide along her lips. She responded in kind, and her hands wrapped around my neck to pull me down to her. After a long minute, she disengaged and smiled up at me.