Good Fences Make Good Neighbors

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It was one of those lovely summer days when you look out the window from your office and see everyone walking on the crowded street in t-shirts and miniskirts and you just wish it was the weekend and not Wednesday. I had walked to work in the morning and, though I knew it would be a scorcher walking home in my suit, I couldn’t wait to get out of the office. Finally five-o-clock arrived and I walked under the still blazing June sun back home, feeling the sweat soak the back of my shirt, but glad to be outside. It was like some sort of primitive instinct. We are sometimes more animal than human and this was one of those times that my body knew with greater intellect than my mind that we were not made to sit eight hours a day under florescent lights.

Walking up the street to home, I saw Lola sitting on the front stoop in her little blue Daisy Dukes and very loose-fitting tank top (no bra) talking with two young men. As I got closer, I could see (without hearing the words spoken, just from their body-language) that the two guys were simply making small-talk in order to keep looking down Lo’s shirt. I could also see that Lo was more than happy to let them, feigning complete ignorance of what was happening.

I got a little closer yet and now, even from the distance where I was, I could see Lo’s nipples through the white T. She was smiling and saying something that I could just about hear. Oh, that’s it, she’s complaining about how dry it has been and what it’s doing to her flowers as she crouches down to caress one of her prized plants. This was just a rouse, of course, to allow them to see more of her breasts and to get her eyes level with their groins.

It was at that point that she spied me walking home. She stood up and said, “And this is H.H.” She nodded in my direction and added, “Like I said, he’s going to be away this weekend.” I greeted the two young fellows with a handshake, and they introduced themselves as Roy and Gary. “They live there,” said Lo, standing a bit on her tiptoes, pointing down the street. “They just moved in a couple of weeks ago.”

The boys picked it up from there, explaining that they’re brothers and one of them goes to graduate school, the other is a senior in college and they just got an apartment together. I introduced myself and Lo again said, “It’s too bad you’ll be out of town on business Friday through Sunday cause it’s supposed to be perfect beach weather. I can’t wait to start my tan! Maybe Friday, after work, I’ll lie out in the back yard.” Though she was saying all of this to me, it wasn’t meant for me at all. It was meant for the boys. A transparent code for, “I’ll be alone this weekend and in a bikini (or less) and you should definitely come see me.”

The boys, big grins on their faces, knowing that they got away with something, made their excuses for having to go back home and said, “Nice meeting you,” as they left.

“What was that all about?” I asked Lo when they were gone.

“Just being neighborly.”

“By letting them see your tits?”

“I was just welcoming them to the neighborhood. Does that upset you, Daddy?”

“Plan on throwing a little party for them while I’m gone this weekend?”

“I hope they’ll both come!” she said, running her tongue over her lips.

“I’m sure they will. You’re very lucky that such good looking guys moved so close. You could be their go-to slut.”

“I sure hope so.”

“Should I drill a couple of holes in the fence?”

“Oh, Daddy, you’re bad!”

“No, you’re bad.”

“Well, if you have time before you have to leave and it’s not too much trouble. . . ”


“Just kidding. Why don’t you go inside, take a shower, and then drill me.”

[From the blog:]

Just your average nymphomaniac next door. I love fan mail:

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