The Good Neighbor

I was eighteen years old when this all happened. At the time it shocked and surprised me and I had a hard time accepting my incredible good fortune. The experience I'm about to relate quickly became something I'd never want to change. It became a part of my growing up. It was nothing but an awesome adventure that became the basis of my sexual maturation.

I lived with my parents, sister and brother in a nice house in a nice suburb of Atlanta.

It was a Saturday morning in May. A gorgeous day. I'd been for an early run and as I arrived home, Mrs. James, the next door neighbor, was waving at me. She wasn't waving a good morning kind of greeting, it was definitely a wave that asked if I could go over and talk to her. I slowed and approached. "Hi Jeff, how are you....?" She began.

In my eyes, Lynne James was an attractive woman of about 30 years old, somebody I should respect, say 'hello' to when we noticed each other. Not somebody I'd be hitting on, not somebody I should look at in an 'I'd love to fuck her' kind of way. She wasn't somebody that would have any interest in me for starters. She was a neighbor, a different generation, off limits and never in my mind.

I suppose I was polite, friendly, even good looking in an eighteen year old kind of way. I was into school work, sports and second, sometimes third base foreplay.

I'd been favored with a hand job on rare occasions courtesy of my girlfriend of two years. There was the promise of more to come one day. We'd told each other we'd wait until we were nineteen for some stupid reason. A distant seven months away.

Of course there was a Mr. James. His name, for what it matters, was Bob, in fact, wherever he is now his name probably still is Bob. He seemed pleasant enough. He left the house early each day in a suit and tie and came home late most days with his tie loosened and the jacket over his shoulder. He drove a big Mercedes, she drove a smaller convertible one.

At weekends they'd have occasional pool parties, they'd have their share of visitors and they generally just fit right in with the rest of the folks in our world. It seemed then as if they had a typical upper middle class life style much like everybody else our family knew. There were no kids but that didn't mean anything. Just the way it was.

On this day, Mrs. James needed my help and I was happy to oblige. She'd had a dresser delivered that was sitting in the first bay of their garage and she wanted to ask if I could help Mr. James take it into the house. She smiled when I offered my assurance that I'd be happy to help but frowned when I said I'd get showered and come straight back over to her house. That wouldn't work for her. Mr. James was headed off to the golf course, could I do it right now? Why not?

Her husband showed up and explained the plan. He was looking at his watch as he addressed me, no problem, we shook hands and got on with the job. We started by unwrapping the plastic that was wrapped around the thing and removed some protective corner pieces.

I went to grab one end as he approached the other. She interrupted us and asked us to remove the drawers before taking it inside. He told her we could manage it with the drawers in place as he looked at his watch again. She basically insisted that it was going to be done her way "Take the fucking drawers out Bob because I don't want them sliding out and falling down the fucking stairs or banging into the fucking walls that were painted two fucking weeks ago and if you would like to shut the fuck up you'll get the fuck out of the house and off to the golf course where you can play with your fucking dumb ass buddies a lot more quickly." She didn't pause for breath and her husband seemed to get a clear message. I silently agreed it was perhaps better to start removing the drawers.

The drawers each had a safety catch at the back. It took five minutes for us to realize this and he was fuming and sweating as he tried to pull out the top drawer, moving onto another one when he couldn't slide it out. It was Lynne who leaned into look and suggested that he "twist that little thing downwards and maybe it'll come out." It did. So did all the others. He looked at his watch before taking hold of his end of the dresser.

"Bob, just get the dresser into the bedroom, go to your golf and I'll put the drawers in myself, ok dear." He was okay with that.

The thing was fucking heavy. Bob was getting more annoyed with each backward step. I wanted to offer to go first if it would help him but I didn't want to speak and interrupt progress. I concentrated on holding my end up and staying out of their issues. Finally we had it in the bedroom and as Bob set it down his arm went to his lower back as if there was some kind of injury there. He seemed to think better of making any announcement and he looked at Lynne to ask if his work was done. She scratched her chin, looked at him, looked at the dresser, back at him and said "yes, go, have a good game."

As he left I slid the thing into position against the wall. She became a friendly, smiling, happy lady. She was nothing at all like the lady that had been in the house up to the point that the husband had left.

Eventually it seemed to be in exactly the spot she wanted it. Opposite the end of a king sized brass bed. Beneath and perfectly centered with a huge ornate mirror. She smiled and asked my opinion. Apart from wondering why the fuck she'd care what my opinion was I paused and looked at her briefly before looking back at the dresser. "It's perfect" I told her. She was happy and said she'd start bringing up the drawers. I offered to help and she accepted my offer.

She sprang downstairs and headed off to the living room as I approached the garage.

I picked up two drawers and was heading back towards the stairs as the music started. She smiled as she bounced towards the garage. It occurred to me that I was alone with a very good looking woman.

I took the drawers upstairs and installed the first two. As I was leaving the bedroom Mrs. James brushed by me on her way in with one drawer. She smiled as we crossed just inside the doorway. Her good smell is my memory of that instant and if in the same circumstances today I would certainly remark on noticing that. However, I was eighteen and had a very limited appreciation of the value or benefits received in complimenting a lady.

On reentering the room with two more drawers I noticed that she had made a start on filling the drawers. I also noticed a pile of panties and bras on the bed. Some stuff was already in the top drawer. "Shall I just leave these here for now?" I asked.

"Yes please Jeff, I am so excited to have this dresser." She smiled at her announcement and I think I managed to reply "it's really nice."

As I descended the stairs for the last drawer I thought that perhaps I should show a bit more enthusiasm, be a little more friendly.

The best I could manage was "wow, it looks even better with the drawers in." She smiled again.

"Jeff, would you be a darling and move that rocker over to the other corner." She touched my arm, pointed and her request was clear.

"My pleasure" That's more like it I thought, feeling awkwardness melt away as my highly developed conversational skills kicked in.

I placed the rocker in the assigned corner and as I turned in stride my upper groin met firmly and swiftly with the big brass knob on the top of the bed frame. I gasped and doubled up in pain practically collapsing to my knees. She was by my side in a split second, asking what happened, encouraging me to lay back. My explanation and pointing along with her own assessment led her to believe that ice was called for. She asked if I could make it onto the bed. I could with her help. I lay flat besides her piles of sexy lingerie and she left the room for ice.

In her absence it dawned on me that I was laying on a nice bed, about to be attended to by a gorgeous older woman and my pain really had subsided somewhat. For the first time I had that moment of enlightenment and realized that I should let this be my time if that's what it was meant to be.

Mrs. James seemed quite concerned. She arrived back in the bedroom with an arm full of towels and a bowl of ice. She asked me to point to the spot. I did but a tad closer to my cock than the real epicenter of my pain.

"You'll have to slip your shorts off Jeff."

"Okay." I grimaced.

I undid the knotted chord, lifted my butt and grimaced again as I hooked my fingers into the waistband. "Oh stop. Let me help you." She noticed my pain.

"I feel so terrible, first you carry that dresser practically all by yourself, I didn't let you go shower, then you hurt yourself moving the rocker. I'm so sorry Jeff." Her sequence was off but the concern and guilt seemed genuine.

"It's okay Mrs. James."

"Call me Lynne, Jeff, please, call me Lynne." She had taken a grip on my shorts and asked me to lift up just a little. I did as instructed. She left a towel over my groin and slid My shorts and briefs down to my ankles. She giggled and apologized for not taking off my sneakers first. As she looked at me I recognized what a gorgeous, sexy, flirtatious smile she had. I couldn't have verbalized it then but the recognition was clear.

Somewhere inside my basic sense of masculinity and deep amongst all the things should appeal to it, I recognized this woman as more than she had previously been. She was now an object of desire.

She removed my running shoes and dropped the clothes on the floor behind her.

"Let's see now, and tell me you won't be shy."

"No, I won't be shy." I slid the towel to my right as she approached from the left. She could surely see the profile of my cock and balls.

"Show me where it hurts" as I moved my hand towards the pain she continued "oh no don't move, I can see where it's bruising. Oh you poor thing, I feel terrible." She repeated herself but I'd decided that the best I could do for myself was to let her convince herself of her guilt in all this.

She placed her cool fingers on my groin and asked me to let her know when it hurt. She moved around a little, gently pressing. My most pained tightening came as she got closer to my cock which twitched rather violently as her finger tips pressed within an inch or so of its base.

"Oh good Jeff" she paused "at least that's not broken" she smiled up at me with raised eyebrows as her fingers continued their movement. I was no longer responsible for my cock.

What I wanted to say was something along the lines of ; Mrs. James why don't you just suck my cock because nobody ever did that and then let me fuck you because I'm a virgin and it would feel really good to be fucked by you, but that's not what came out. "No, it's still working I think, that feels good Mrs. James." Which wasn't bad for me at that stage of my development.

Her fingers moved closer to my cock "Please call me Lynne"

"Sorry, yes, I will, Lynne. I like that name." She smiled at me as I spoke.

Her left hand continued to touch softly close to my expanding cock as she reached down for some ice. It was a jolt when the ice hit my groin but her fingers circled my cock at exactly that moment and my gasp was for both events.

She skated the ice cube around my groin as she began stroking my cock "Does that feel good Jeff?" Her eyes switched from my face to my cock. It was as big as it was going to get now and had it not been for her hand it would have rested flat and hard with its head at my navel.

"Yessss Lynne, that feels really good. I mean, er, really awesome."

This wasn't a fumbled zipper experience in the front seat of a Jeep with a girl that didn't have a clue of how much a cock can appreciate some gentle handling. I was clearly and literally in the hands of an expert.

The ice melted and dripped slowly along the groove between groin and thigh "Oh, the ice is melting" her finger chased the rivulets down that same crease and repeatedly dragged the drops upwards. Scathing my ass and balls as her left hand continued its caresses.

She looked at me again, for longer this time, still stroking my cock very tenderly, a smile creased her lips and her eyes widened. Her head was moving towards my cock before her gaze left mine. I wanted to hold the gaze until she couldn't and I wanted to lean back as she swallowed me whole but it didn't quite go that way. She poked her tongue tenderly at me. She dipped in and stabbed me with its stiff, soft wetness, she smiled back in search of an expressive reaction which came naturally as one of extreme pleasure. She toyed with me, played with me, tormented and tasted me, slowly and lovingly. She labored on her work, certain she knew that she was doing to me what had never been done before.

She let me throb in her soft grip as she stared back beyond my misty eyes and into my mind. She swooped again and took me softly between her lips, she wet me and sucked on the very tip. She was playing with me as a well fed cat might play with a live mouse. She looked again, smiled again and leaned away from me. She moved from the bed, and slowly, very fucking agonizingly slowly, stripped naked.

Her body was centerfold. Gorgeous, stunning curves. Delicate, lithe, tanned, sexy. I'd never (of course) seen anything like it in three dimensions. I wanted to do whatever people do in those circumstances and I figured she'd show me what that was. She did.

She slid over my body and tugged my shirt off, She leaned in and kissed me, flattening my cock between our bellies. She sucked and licked my lips, her tongue encouraged my own to dance, she grazed my teeth, she licked and nibbled my ears, she breathed on my neck and whispered things I'd never heard as she ran her fingers through my hair. She reached between us and found me. She leaned back keeping her weight off me and she took my cock in her hand. She lifted it as she lifted herself. She put me to her bald pussy. I reached a hand for her breasts and she pushed me away "later" she said.

Knowing there would be a later was very good news.

She put my cock inside the entrance to her sex. She lifted and lowered, she clutched my cock inside her and fell still lower until she was as full as I could make her. She gripped me there and gave me a feeling that could never have been imagined. From that point she moved harder and faster with her palms flat against my chest. She fucked me, that's all, it was a ride she needed and it was the most perfect feeling. The wetness, the warmth, the tightness and the sensations that come with that sensual bombardment were more than I could stand and my cock exploded harder and for longer than I had ever thought possible.

She screamed as my cock pumped itself into her and she slammed down harder bringing back memories of my sore groin. I was in a state of amazement at the witnessing of the ways a woman's body moves as she fucks like that.

Eventually she slowed "God that was so fucking good Jeff"

"Wow, it was?"

"Are you kidding that was fantastic, you've been practicing."

"Er well, not really."

"Wow, Jeff, you have the most fantastic cock."

"I do?"

"Nobody told you already?" She had stilled and seemed to be somewhere between surprise, shock and a loud, happy scream.

"Er, no, nobody ever mentioned it." For all I was in awe of the experience we'd just created it seemed that the awkward me was back.

"Well you do, take my word for it."

"You mean we can do this again?"

"Oh absofuckinglutely Jeff, keep it a secret, be careful and we can do it a lot."

"That'd be cool."

"Yes, very cool."

And that's how it came to be. Her husband played golf and worked while Lynne James showed me how to fuck (among other things). She taught me more that summer than I've learned in twenty years since. She left me as a sexually confident young man, educated in the ways of female pleasuring, ready to face the world and notice opportunities when they present themselves.

All you Lynnes or Mrs. James' out there, please know how much you're appreciated by guys like me and in a stealth kind of way, by those women we meet later.