Leslie Ch. 01

I'm not a professional scribe, but beginning to understand what writer's block might feel like as I'm trying to figure out where to start. Guess I should begin with my personal story, and go from there. I'm in my early fifties, a for-hire professional in the Defense arena living in the DC area. About twenty-five miles west of DC, to be a little more exact. I'm single by choice, and live in a small but well-to-do gated community, and own a single family home. Most residents are like myself, successful working professionals who make at least six figures.

I generally work from home, with the frequent trip for a conference, if not a local meeting in some nearby corporate office. I'm six foot tall, and one hundred ninety pounds, give or take a pound or two depending on my workout routine - which is very dependent on my schedule in any particular week. I'd been involved with athletics since high school, and have always been very competitive. What I lacked in ability, I made up for through sheer motivation; many had better skills, but no one out-hustled me. But time has taken it's toll on the knees so light weights, brisk walks, and the occasional cycling have to suffice.

It was during one of my early-April walks that I discovered my neighbor, Leslie. Of course I didn't know who she was then, but Leslie first appeared few blocks from my house when I'd gotten to the end of a particular street, and turned left to head up what I'd called the backstretch. About three quarters of a block ahead of me was the diminutive figure of a woman in a pink top, khaki shorts and white tennis shoes briskly walking in the same direction. For the most part, all I could see was her shortish-looking blonde hair and backside, but it was a shapely backside and that certainly caught my attention.

She turned left at the end of "our" street, and a few minutes later, following the same route, I turned left as well. To my disappointment, she was nowhere to be seen. I kept on course, looking left and right when I came to another intersection, but she was gone. Oh well, I figured, she must've lived close by and just went inside her house, so on I went. But I continued to wonder throughout the day who the mystery woman was.

Several days later I was out for my morning walk but had gotten a later start than normal. I walked my regular course, with the ITunes playing in my ears, when I came upon an intersection to my left. Just as I was about to cross the street, a gold Camry pulled up to the stop sign immediately to my left. Not wanting to be hit, I stopped so the car could proceed and waved the car past. At that point I looked directly at the driver - a woman with short blonde softly-curled hair and sunglasses, displaying a big smile. With her hand she waved for me to pass, so I smiled and waved back and proceeded on, looking at her the entire time I walked in front of her car.

She continued to smile back, and once I was past she turned and went by me to my right with a honk of the horn, wave, and that big smile. That's when I began to wonder if that could be the same woman I saw from a distance a few days earlier? It seemed to make sense, her car came from the same general area where I'd last seen her, but had to admit her's wasn't a car I'd seen before. At least now I knew what to look for. Maybe.

The weather was slowly getting warmer, and with my house located on a corner lot I had a significant amount of vegetation to maintain, particularly on the side and backyard areas where I chose a little privacy around the deck area. While it wasn't totally secluded from the neighbors, the garden and several trees provided plenty of shade during specific times of the day, and semi-obstructed views of the other homes close by. The following week I decided to get an early start on some of the yard maintenance.

As I was pruning and pulling at weeds I happened to look up and out into the distant surroundings to see how the neighbor's yards were progressing in comparison, and I noticed someone walking up the street and headed my way. It was the small blonde-haired lady wearing the same pink top and khaki shorts I'd seen last week. She appeared to be holding a water bottle as she walked closer, and I pretended to continue my gardening as she came closer and I stole a few quick glances her way. As she arrived at the end of the street, she turned left on the road which ran parallel to my house - had she'd turned right she would've just entered a cul de sac and had to come back by.

So as she began to walk past I looked directly at her just as she turned her head towards me I stopped what I was pretending to do and said, "Good morning."

She smiled softly and replied, "Morning," as she kept up her pace, turned her head back in the direction she was walking, and just as quickly glanced back at me with a smile.

I quickly looked down, while cutting my eyes back up towards her, and pretended to go back to work, moving the rake in my hand back and forth with no specific purpose. She was still smiling as she was now looking back over her shoulder, then turned to look ahead as she seemingly rolled her shoulders back, which pushed her more than ample chest out. Within a minute she had turned again, in the direction I believed she lived, and disappeared from sight.

I tried to go back to my work as my mind started to process everything I'd seen. She was an attractive woman who appeared to be around my age, about five foot four with blue eyes, a smallish and lightly tanned nose, dirty-blonde hair and lighter highlights. She seemed to be in good shape, guessing she was no more than 130 pounds with a proportional figure for her size, maybe a 34C, and an ass any middle-aged woman would be proud of, I think. Her shorts were somewhat loose-fitting, but not baggy, and you could definitely see the outlines of her well-shaped ass. Her top was tight enough to show her curves without looking like it was painted on.

I surmised she was wearing a workout outfit since I'd seen her in the same clothes last week. Her water bottle was a translucent pink color, closely matching the color of her top. From my mental picture, and what little I could draw from her voice, I deduced she had charming feminine qualities and was a woman with class - which is always a turn on for me. I also began putting together a mental puzzle, having seen her at roughly the same times on a Wednesday, Friday, and now Monday morning. So I needed to come up with a plan to see her again the day after tomorrow. Okay, now back to work.

It seemed to get progressively more humid the next two mornings, and while not too hot you could definitively feel the thicknesses in the air. By eight-thirty am I'd sufficiently cleaned up to look presentable in shorts and a golf shirt, grabbed the paper and a glass of juice, and went outside on the deck to see who might come by. The trees provided ample shade from the easterly sun, and if I didn't move too much I wouldn't start to perspire heavily.

As I was reading I'd glance up occasionally to see if "my friend" was in the area. I started to chuckle at myself for the schoolboy antics, but hey, it was all in fun and also entertaining. A little after nine-fifteen I saw her coming my way from down the street. I tried to act nonchalantly as I peered over the top of the paper and she got closer.

She was wearing her usual - to me anyways - outfit, and could see she was perspiring, probably from the humidity, with the area on her top, just above the breasts, darker than the rest of her shirt. As she neared I lowered the paper to my lap and made sure she knew I was looking at her. She seemed to slow as she turned on the new street and said, "Hi."

I replied with a friendly, "Well hello there."

At that point I glanced down and noticed her bottle was nearly empty, so as I pointed towards it I said, "If you need to refill it I've got a spigot over here, or we can get you something colder from inside."

She stopped and turned towards me, raised her bottle and looked at it, then back at me with a smile and said, "Thank you, that's so nice. But I think I'll be fine until I'm back home."

"Sure," I said,"the door's always open," as I nodded towards the back entrance.

She titled her head a little and smiled, then nodding towards the paper asked, "So, what's that you have there?"

"Oh, it's just the Post," I said.

"Uh huh, I'm sure," she replied with a large grin.

I must have had a dumbfounded look on my face as I was almost ready to ask, "Okay,...so what are we talking about here?"

She seemed to sense my confusion as she straightened her shoulders back - there, she did it again! - allowing her bra-encased breasts to stand proudly on her frame, started to turn and looking over her right shoulder said, "This was fun. See you again soon?"

Huh, was that a rhetorical question? But she didn't wait for an answer, and just kept walking as she'd done the previous time. Now it was I who was perspiring; was it the humidity or my blushing that caused it? What just happened here, did my sexy neighbor just come on to me?

I tried to dissect the double entendres, and what, if anything, our little conversation meant? After wracking my brain I decided I'd only know the answer on Friday. Maybe. Possibly. Now I was giving myself a headache. Just wait until then. And be prepared.

Friday morning finally arrives and I'm fresh out of the shower and dressed comfortably, waiting to see if my new acquaintance will stop in and what, if anything, will transpire. Once outside I notice it's not as humid as earlier in the week, and begin wondering if my offer of refreshment will be appropriate or if I'll have to think of something new, without somehow appearing desperate. I keep playing our previous, albeit short but interesting conversation over again in my mind, looking for some deeper meaning or intention. Was it just playful, flirty banter, or am I engaged in some sort of wishful thinking? Looking up and out over the neighborhood, I believe I'm about to find out.

Here she comes.

Wearing her usual exercise outfit, she continues straight for my deck instead of turning down the road. I quickly stand from my comfortable chair just as she bounds up the four steps and towards me with a very nice, and seemingly mischievous grin. At this point I notice something just a little different with her clothing. She's not wearing a bra, unlike previous days, and I can barely make out her light-colored areola moving playfully under her shirt. Quickly looking back to her eyes, I hold out my right hand and say, "Good morning. I don't believe we've been introduced, I'm John."

"Leslie," she replies as she returns the gesture, and I notice her hand is warm and soft, but by no means weak.

"Would you like to sit down?" I asked, "Maybe something cool to drink?"

The smile has softened somewhat, and her eyes seem to be looking at me deeply, maybe trying to gauge my intentions? She looks from side to side, including over both shoulders, and then softly says, "Could we go inside where it may be a little more comfortable? My calves are a little sore and I may need to stretch and rub them, but away from possible prying eyes? Wouldn't want to send the wrong message to anyone."

"And what message could that possibly be?" I asked.

She brings her right hand to my upper left arm and pats it twice, then shrugs her shoulders with an innocent look that was anything but. You don't have to ask or tell me twice, so I move to the door and open it for her.

Having entered the breakfast nook area, I point her to the living area and tell her to sit anywhere she would be the most comfortable. As she sits on the couch, and I in the chair across from her, she's looking around at the decor.

"I've never seen you with anyone," she says, "do you live alone?"

"You haven't been watching me, have you?" I ask.

She lowers her head a little while still looking at me, and lightly smiles.

"I'm single," I reply, "but was in a longterm relationship a couple of years ago, which is why you may have noticed a feminine touch," I say as I wave my hand from left to right, as if auditioning for The Price is Right.

"Oh," Leslie replied, then paused and said, "I didn't know if you..."

"Were gay?" I asked, completing the sentence for her. She seemed to blush and I said, "No, I'm not gay. Not that there's anything wrong with that," wondering if she recognized my Seinfeld-like humor? "So, what can I get to you?" I asked. "Something to eat or drink?"

"Just ice water. Please?"

"Sure, anything else?"

"Not just now", she replies.

Okay, I tell myself, "not just now", but maybe later?

I return with a large glass of ice water just as she moves to the floor and begins to stretch her legs out, and from a sitting position, starts to rub her calves. Bending down, her crew neck shirt doesn't allow a view of her cleavage, and I withhold a disappointing sigh as I set the glass on a coaster. After hearing her lightly moan, I ask if there's anything I can do to help? I also notice the air conditioning has affected her nipples so that they're now poking against the front of her shirt.

While rubbing the inside and then the outside of her legs between her knees and ankles, she looks up at me with a smile and said, "Oh, would you please?"

You don't have to ask me twice, I tell myself again, and sit on my knees at the bottom of her feet. She moves her hands to her sides and slightly behind her so she can lean back and watch. I shimmy forward a little and place her shoes on either knee, elevating her legs just a little. I alternately use both hands to gently, but firmly message her calves, and then place one hand under her knee while using the other to softly rub up and down her lower leg from the knee to the ankle.

I switch from one leg to the other, message and rub, before returning to the other, and each of us share an occasional sip from her glass. Rinse and repeat I tell myself. While I'm doing this I'm taking in how soft her legs feel, and their light brown color, and occasionally stealing a glance at the "v" covered area at the top of her thighs. All the while we're talking about our exercise routines and the neighborhood, and I'm hoping Leslie doesn't think I'm molesting her legs. Or staring at her nipples.

Having long-since felt her relax each leg, I ask if she's feeling better?

"Oh yes," she replied, "it's been a long time since anyone's done that for me."

Feeling emboldened, I quickly ask, "Which, the leg message or make you feel good?"

Seeing a seriousness in her face and eyes for the first time, she replies, "Both."

We stare at each other briefly, and without saying a word I spread my knees wide enough to place her feet between them, lean forward as gracefully as possible, and touch my lips to hers as I brace myself with my left hand beside her, using my right hand to grab a pillow near the closest arm of the couch. With the pillow now in place, I gently slide my right hand to the back of her head and lower her to a more comfortable position for us both.

After a brief electric moment, I pull back just enough to see her face. She's a little flush when she opens her eyes and looks into mine. That's all I needed to see, and I quickly moved in a much more passionate way, covering her mouth with mine.

I heard a "Ummpphh," followed by a long, "Mmmmmmm," as I brought my tongue into her mouth. She places her arms securely around my neck as she rolled her tongue against mine, and I stayed connected until my body was on hers as I softly landed on my elbows, while cupping her ears and hair in each hand.

Soon, our hurried breathing had us gasping for air so I raised up and looked at her, asking if she'd prefer to move somewhere more comfortable? She started to move from under me, so I stood and helped her up.

She looked at me almost pleadingly and said, "We don't have much time."

I pointed at the hallway and said, "Down to the end and then left."

As I followed her she raised her shirt up, and then off her body. Seeing this I did the same, then threw my shirt into the first open door I passed, and began working on my belt as we arrived in the master bedroom, and at the foot of my queen bed. The window shades let in just enough sunlight so that we could see each other quite well, but enough soft light that it made for an erotic picture. At least in my mind.

Leslie then turned to me and we met breast to chest, with another passionate kiss and embrace. I ran my hands slowly up and down her side's and back before reaching into her shorts at the top of her ass, feeling the top of her silky panties. Another sensual moan from her, and I pulled far enough away to finally loosen my shorts, and drop them, along with my boxers, to the floor. At the same time, Leslie had stepped out of both her shorts and light pink panties. I think I can make out a Vickie's tag.

For a brief moment, though it seemed like forever, we stood looking up and down at each other, her with her hands on my biceps, me with my hands on her collarbone. While I'm certainly not the most well-endowed I'd ever seen in a porn movie or read about, from what I knew I was just above average at a little over six inches, and pleasingly thick, at least so I've been told.

As I take in the sight before me, I'm mesmerized by Leslie's lovely, sparkling blue eyes, very attractive face, and soft but firm 34C breasts that don't noticeably sag. Her areolas have a light pink hue the size of half dollars, and her nipples are the size of small gum drops, standing straight out. Her belly is soft, but not flabby, and her pussy framed with trimmed light brown hair. Her legs are shapely, fit, and strong, no doubt from the walking, and she has a mature hourglass figure. What's not to like?

I slowly move my hands down to her breasts and gently cup, lift and squeeze each one. I love to feel the area under the areola, so supple and warm. This elicits a soft sigh from Leslie as she's also now gently playing with my balls in one hand, and slowly stroking my shaft with the other. Her hand is warm, and the feeling so sensual that precum is starting to drip from the end.

With a heightened urgency we begin to climb on the bed together, I reach up to swat away the decorative pillows as we move to the sleep pillows. We stay on top of the silk comforter, which feels cool and smooth on our bodies. We embrace, and once again start to slowly, and then with a building intensity, fence with our tongues. Breaking our impassioned kiss, I move down and softly lick the underside of her left breast before taking her nipple in my mouth, begin softly sucking, and start to gently knead her right breast. Despite her earlier workout she smells and tastes great, and I think I detect honeysuckle.

After switching to her other breast and giving it the attention it deserved, I slowly start kissing my way down her stomach towards her treasure, rubbing my hands up and down her side's and occasionally reaching up and gently tugging on a nipple. I can both feel and smell her sweet wetness as her abdomen joyfully twitches from my touch.

Despite the pleasurable moans, she grabs my head to stop me, looks down at me sweetly and says, "No time, just do it," and begins pulling me back up to her face.

Spreading her legs wider, I slide up between them, feeling her heat as she reaches down between us to guide me in. Between her wet pussy and my oozing precum, I slide effortlessly into her molten center and feel her grip my cock.

I let out a loud and pleasurable moan as she simultaneously says, lustfully, "Oh, fuck! Oh God, that feels so damn good! Yes, just like that. God, I love this!"

Hearing her speak in that lustful tone is surprising given our earlier conversations, but a turn on nonetheless as I smile down at her. I begin moving slowly, but assertively, in and out of her to get even deeper, all the while telling her how beautiful she looks, how sweet she smells, and how hot her pussy feels. She's moving and grinding in rhythm with me, alternately opening her sparkling eyes wide and then clenching them shut, saying the words "fuck" and "yes" over and over when she's not biting her lower lip.