Hi, my name is Marc. I’m thirty-seven, work from home, and until recently I thought my life felt complete. You’ve already met Katherine, Clara, and Reena through their own eyes. Now it’s my turn again to tell you how everything shifted a little further.

—

Ready

As I watched my wife’s car disappear down the street, I turned my head toward the house across the road. The light on the second-floor bedroom was on and a dark figure was discernible through the thin white curtains. I had this feeling of being watched. I approached the garage portal and, without breaking visual contact with the opposite windows, raised my right hand and waved. The person behind the curtain suddenly let go of the heavier interior curtain, meant to block the light, and let it cover the entire window, making it go all dark. I supposed this was due to the humiliation of being discovered spying on the neighbours. I did not have to guess who this person was; I knew her pretty well by now. She was Katherine, the sixty-something-year-old neighbour who lived across the street.

I went to the kitchen to put away the uneaten breakfast. My normal morning had started like any other, making breakfast for the whole family, but it was quickly turned upside down. First the kids informed me they would go to a friend’s house for breakfast and then directly to school. Then I received a message from Katherine asking if I could help her move some boxes and furniture before lunch. Finally my wife Clara came downstairs with a plan of her own, to get hot and nasty right in the middle of the breakfast table, but that plan was surprisingly and unfortunately aborted when she had to run to the office for a critical meeting, leaving me with some unfinished business. The ache of that interrupted moment still sat low and heavy in my body, a restless pressure I tried to ignore while I cleaned up.

While scraping food into the garbage bin and loading the dishwasher, I started to wonder about Katherine across the street. A few weeks back I had gone to her house to pick up some chairs and the moment had turned quite embarrassing when I had a roaring erection in my pants. She had noticed it with her own eyes and even felt it against her backside when we had to squeeze together to move the chairs. I could not help it. I did find her very attractive, and the tight pajama shorts she was wearing that day did not make it any easier for me to hide my big problem. The interaction had ended on good terms, though, and we each parted with good spirits and offered each other help if we ever needed it. After that day we had crossed paths just a few times while taking out the garbage or walking to the mailbox, always pleasant, as if nothing had happened. This morning her text about the help needed to move the furniture felt like an olive branch, reassurance that everything was well between us and no offence had been taken. But why was she spying on us this morning? That still bothered me. A quiet guilt mixed with curiosity sat in my chest; I still loved Clara, yet something about Katherine pulled at me in a way I couldn’t quite name.

I took my phone and wrote back:

Sure, no problem. Be there around 12ish.

Having finished my morning chores, I logged into my work laptop and tried to put in a few hours of work. Before I knew it, it was around 11:30. I got up and went across the street.

Set

I rang the doorbell. Katherine rushed to the door and opened it wide without checking who was on the other side. She knew.

“Hi Marc, how are you? Thank you again for giving me a hand today.”

I was left speechless by who was in front of me. Katherine looked phenomenal. More than phenomenal. She looked amazing. She had applied the right amount of makeup to highlight her nice facial features and fixed her blonde hair into beautiful waves. She was wearing a tight red top that showed her massive breasts but kept them together and firm. Finally she was wearing a pair of clinging red cleaning pajama shorts, like the previous time, but they were shorter, almost indecently short, which outlined her ample butt and showcased her legs, the soft fabric sticking lightly to her skin. No socks, shoes or slippers either. She was going barefoot with bright red toenails.

Without words, frozen in stupidity, I was only able to spit out a few incoherences.

“Mmm... no problem. Hi. This is Marc.”

She chuckled.

“I know it’s you. Come in.”

I went in and followed her to the kitchen, which gave me a nice rear view of the shorts. Not again, I thought. Something started growing in my pants. Once in the kitchen Katherine offered me a chair and I quickly took it, using this great opportunity to hide my swelling situation. The residual pressure from the morning with Clara made the new arousal feel sharper, almost urgent.

“It’s a beautiful day outside, isn’t it? Do you want something to drink before we start moving the stuff?” she asked.

“Sure, I’d love to, ” I replied.

“Excellent. I have some orange juice, water, Coke, and this imported beer I did not finish with my friends the other day, ” she offered.

“I’ll have the beer, but only if you have one with me, ” I responded.

She opened the beers, brought one for me and kept the other, then sat down across from me at the end of the long table.

The silence was king until I could not take it anymore and ventured to start a conversation.

“So Katherine, are you moving or renovating?”

“None, dear. It’s my daughter Reena. She has moved back from Dubai and will come live with me. I have been using her room as a closet basically and accumulated too much stuff in it for the last two years. Now I need to move it to give her her room back.”

We both took a sip of beer and I continued the conversation.

“Oh, so nice. You must be very happy to have her back and to have some company in this big house.”

“I am indeed, but you know... lately I had taken a liking to being alone, to have the full privacy of a house for myself. I had learned to be happy and satisfied on my own. It will take time to adapt back. But yes, I am very happy. She is a great girl.”

Katherine downed the rest of her beer, and I, not wanting to be left behind, did the same. When I finished, I ventured into another chat.

“So, your daughter Reena... I don’t think I have met her. I would love to learn about her experience in Dubai...”

Katherine jumped to her feet and interrupted me quite abruptly, mid-sentence.

“Why don’t we go upstairs, Marc, and get the moving going, yes?”

She turned around and headed toward the stairs and started climbing. I had to actually skip a few steps to catch up to her. My eyes kept drifting to the way the clinging shorts moved with every step.

Once on the second floor, Katherine opened the bedroom door and called me in. The room had the musky smell of a closed enclosure. There were three tall towers of boxes, totaling something like fifteen boxes in one corner, and a desk with another half-dozen boxes on top, pushed toward a wall. The bed, however, looked freshly made with clean sheets and a duvet.

“You were not kidding when you said you needed help. What is all this stuff?” I asked.

“Why would I be kidding? These towers over here are books. This other one is files from when I used to work, didn’t I tell you I used to be an accountant? And that last tower over there are boxes full of vintage vinyl records I haven’t listened to in years.”

With Katherine’s help I moved all the boxes downstairs and piled them next to the back door, to later move them to their final resting space in the garage. After moving the last box, I went back into the room and found Katherine dusting the bed.

“Hey, what now? Shall I move the desk? Although I don’t know if I can take it downstairs on my own. It’s big. I might have to disassemble it into smaller pieces, ” I asked her.

“Hmmmm, maybe? But you are right, it’s too big. Also, maybe Reena needs a desk here. But I have something else you can help me with.”

She then proceeded to walk straight toward me. That got me nervous. What is she doing? She was getting too close now. Just centimeters away from me when she stopped. A flicker of guilt toward Clara mixed with the sharp pull of curiosity.

“Marc.”

“Yes, ” I replied with a trembling voice.

“Could you?”

“Yes, ” I uttered with a drowned voice.

“Could you move a bit? I need to open the closet behind you?”

I immediately jumped away to let Katherine open the closet. I realized I was shaking and wet with cold sweat.

“See, even the closet is full of stuff. Let’s see what’s in here.”

Katherine explored the closet for a few minutes. She tippy-toed to reach the top shelf, the motion lifting her just enough that the clinging red shorts pulled tighter and nestled more deeply along the soft curve of her backside, displaying the full, generous shape of her ample butt in a way that made my mouth go dry. She determined most of the stuff in there was garbage that could be thrown away, except for a few cans of paint stored on the top shelf of the closet.

“Let me call Reena. Maybe she wants to paint the room and we can use this paint instead of buying new, ” she said and stepped out to make a phone call.

I started removing the contents of the closet, first the magazines, then old shoes and coats and a bunch of useless art supplies. Katherine returned and shared that Reena was not picking up her phone, so we should continue unpacking the closet.

I picked up a few bags, shoes and a box of art supplies and had just dropped them at the rear door when I heard a very loud sound followed by bangs and screams. I ran upstairs and was surprised to find Katherine covered in brown paint. Half her face, her shoulders and one full side were now the colour of creole.

“What happened?” I asked her.

“I wanted to take down the cans but I am not tall enough and just made it tip over and I guess it was not properly closed.” She was full of embarrassment.

“Katherine, how old is this paint?”

“I am not sure, maybe four or five years old. Why?”

“I think you need to go wash immediately. This can be toxic. Also, this is latex, once it dries it will be a nightmare to remove. Go wash. I’ll take care of the mess, ” I said.

“No, I cannot let you do that. This is my mess, ” she replied.

I grabbed her by her unpainted hand to console her and said, “This is not a problem at all. Please go wash. Let me take care of your mess.”

She looked me in the eyes and uttered lastly before leaving to wash, “You are so sweet.”

Go

I was moving stuff out of the way from the expanding pool of paint when I heard a door close shut in a different room and the shower turned on. She was going to be there for a while, so I better start cleaning. I grabbed a few old magazines lying around and started pushing the paint toward the middle of the closet, then ripped apart the lid of a box to use it as a shovel to scoop the paint into the same box I had just ripped. This is doable, I thought, but it’s a mess as drops of paint started landing on my own clothing. The residual tension from the morning still hummed under my skin, making every small movement feel charged.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

The sound was coming from near me, and after a few seconds looking around I noticed Katherine’s mobile on the bed. There was an incoming call. The caller ID said “Reena.” Should I answer it? I thought. But I did not, that would be too intrusive of me. Rather, I took the phone with me and went to the other bedroom and then to the bathroom door in it. It was closed and I proceeded to talk to Katherine through the closed door.

“Katherine. Reena is calling you, ” I said.

A muffled sound came from the washroom. “What?”

Louder, I repeated. “Katherine. Reena is calling you. Should I answer it?”

Again a voice drowned by the sound of the shower and the closed door echoed through. “What? I can’t hear you, Marc.”

Exasperated by the communication difficulty and the non-stopping ringing, I resorted to cracking the door open a few inches and louder repeated for the last time.

“Katherine, sorry, you did not understand me. I had to open the door. Your daughter Reena is calling you. Do you want me to take it?”

The answer: “Yes, please do. Thank you, dear.”

Pressing the Answer button on the screen I went on.

“Hi.”

“Hi, is my mom there?” Reena replied with a confused voice.

“Yeah, but she cannot get to the phone right now.”

“It’s okay. Please tell her I don’t need the paint.”

“Got ya. I’ll let her know.”

And the line went silent. It was a bit odd for me to have the call ended without a bye or a thank you. This Reena must be busy at work. Anyhow, I put the phone away and tried to tell Katherine about the short conversation with Reena, but the shower sound made it impossible to understand each other, so I had to open the door a bit further and yelled it out.

“It was Reena. She said she does not want to keep the paint.”

To which Katherine replied, “Great, but that would have been nice to know five minutes ago before I made the mess. Anyhow, please hang around. I am almost done here.”

I was standing outside the now half-opened door with a view into the sink, but what I discovered was that the sink’s mirror gave me a direct view, even if foggy, of the shower and of Katherine inside it. I immediately turned around so as not to look, but the damage was done. My manhood was waking up again and an invincible force pulled my eyes toward the mirror again. Guilt flickered, Clara’s face from that morning, but the pull was stronger.

Katherine had removed all the paint. Her naked body was now full of soapy water and bubbles. She was going over all her body, all her curves, with a soap bar. I could see her big pink areolas, her large nipples hard and pointy. Down south, Katherine had a fully shaved mound. This surprised me for two reasons. I would not have imagined an older lady like Katherine would do a full shave down there, and also because her labia did not look old and wrinkly as I had always supposed older ones would look. Instead they looked quite inviting, young. The soft sheen of water and soap made every curve gleam under the light.

Unconsciously, my hand was already on my crotch, massaging my growing erection. Fixated on her thighs, I started looking up to get a great look of her massive tits again, and when I passed the tits and reached her face, to my astonishment, Katherine was staring right at my eyes through the mirror reflections.

There was no doubt we both locked stares. Silence prevailed, no sounds, just the two pairs of eyes staring into each other, Katherine’s hands now resting upon her crotch and my hand massaging mine. My heart hammered; part of me wanted to step away, the larger part could not.

“Marc, ” she finally said to break the silence.

“Yes, ” I mumbled.

“Could you please come in, ” she told me, with a firm tone that left no room for indecision.

I pushed the remaining door open and stepped into the bathroom, facing the sink and giving my back to the shower.

“Please turn around, Marc.”

I turned around.

Katherine, now free of soap, turned the shower off and stepped outside. She ignored the towel hanging on the hook. The air between us felt thick and warm.

“But look at you, Marc. You have drops of paint everywhere. You made a mess.”

And looking down at my shorts, she added,

“And what do we have here? Did you get a little too excited like the other day you came over?”

I did not know what to say. I was petrified. I had never been with any other person than my wife, Clara. I did not have to, ever. She was a sex maniac when the mood struck her. We had been together for what seemed a lifetime, so I had never interacted like this with anybody else. So I remained silent. The unfinished tension from the kitchen table still pulsed under everything.

“Tell me, Marc, what is happening down there.”

I had to say something.

“Katherine, sorry I saw you through the mirror. I should not have. But you have a nice figure. I guess my body reacted and I got an erection.” I went pale then red. I could not believe I had uttered those words.

“Oh Marc, nothing to be sorry about. It’s just natural.” She chuckled, and continued. “But that does not explain why you were grabbing yourself like that.”

“I can explain. I am not a weirdo that likes to jerk off watching people, ” I said.

“Explain then, ” Katherine encouraged me to keep talking.

“This morning, after you texted me, Clara and I got into it very quickly. We were having sex and right before I could climax she had to run to the office, ” I described.

“Mmmmmh, ” uttered Katherine without further words.

“I don’t know if you know, but men, when we are that close to orgasm and we stop, we are left with a problem. When we are left locked and loaded it is very difficult for us to get out of it. It causes pain in our private areas. Discomfort through the rest of the day.”

“Ok, I did not know that, ” added Katherine.

I continued. “So when I saw you, and I got an erection, and again sorry for peeking at you without permission, I finally started to feel some relief from having been left with blue balls this morning, and my hand automatically started massaging my member to keep the release of pain going.”

When I finished talking I went silent again and several seconds of complete silence engulfed us. Did she buy my story? Is she going to call the police? Is she going to tell Clara? The questions spun, but the heat of her nearness drowned most of them.

“Marc, it seems you have had a terrible day, in my opinion.” She stepped closer to me. All her naked energy pushing on me like a cloud of hot steam.

“First, let me say that I am honoured that I, this old rag, was able to arouse you into having an erection, ” she said, giving another step closer.

Her last step forced me back into the sink. The cool porcelain pressed against my lower back while her warmth filled the space in front of me.

“Second, you have been so nice and sweet to me. Taking the chairs. Then moving those awfully heavy boxes.” She said this while putting her hands on my shoulders and moving them down to squeeze my biceps. Her palms were still damp and soft.

“Then you were so understanding with the paint mess I did, taking care of that, ” she concluded.

She kept moving her hands down my arms until they reached my shorts, and placing her fingers inside the elastic band of my shorts and underwear she added:

“Since you took good care of me, I think it is only fair that I take good care of you, Marc. I cannot and will not let you endure more pain and discomfort.”

Her head disappeared from my visual field when she went down and in a single movement pulled down both garments. The sudden cool air on my skin made me shiver.

Katherine’s face was right in front of my crotch.

“Your cock is exactly how I always imagined, Marc, ” she said, then proceeded to grab it with one hand and give it sweet soft kisses. The warmth of her breath and the light press of her lips sent a fresh wave of heat through me.

I closed my eyes and braced myself for receiving a blowjob. Instead, I saw Katherine appear again in front of me.

“I would love to give you all the attention you need, Marc, but we must be quick. We have a mess of paint to clean and boxes to move. Please turn around.”

I turned around and felt how Katherine’s body pressed against my back. The soft give of her breasts and the heat of her skin sank into me.

Katherine’s arms embraced my chest and her right hand went down to my now twitching cock and started stroking it. She gave me a soft kiss on my neck before gently biting on my earlobe. Then she whispered into my ear.

“Touch me, Marc.”

My hand immediately moved back and found her crotch and without a second to lose let a finger go in, which was followed by a low moan from her mouth. Her labia were very wet and slippery, as ready for my finger as they could be. The heat and slickness surprised me with how immediate and welcoming they felt.

“Yes, right there... mmmmm, ” Katherine exclaimed.

I felt how her strokes got faster, how her other hand was pulling on my chest. In response I also accelerated the motions of my finger currently inside her. The dual rhythm, her firm hand on me, my finger moving inside her, pulled everything tighter.

Now it was a race of who finishes first as both our breathings synced into a single one, with a perverse rhythm only outpaced by the quick and fast stroking of Katherine’s hand. Every stroke eased the morning’s unfinished ache while building something new and sharper.

“I am going to finish, ” I moaned out.

“Yes, do it, dear, do it, ” she replied. She squeezed my dick even harder and pulled stronger toward the base of my shaft.

The first rope of white cum painted the mirror in front of us with a frosty white colour. Another stroke and then another, and two more ropes landed on the mirror. Katherine’s hand released the tension a bit but gave another three strokes that produced three new ejaculations that landed on the sink in front of us. Each rope accompanied by a deep grunt from me. The release was almost dizzying after the long hold of the morning.

Katherine was totally immersed in giving me the pleasure and release I so much needed, and only once she saw the white sticky cum all over the mirror and sink did she finally allow herself to climax. She grabbed my hand and gave it a quick strong push to go even deeper inside her and kept it there pressing hard against her. The soft walls fluttered around my finger.

The orgasm that hit her was strong and deep. It almost made her buckle under her legs, but fortunately she had me to cling on to. I felt the tremor run through her body against my back.

It took us a few seconds to recover from the climax we both underwent. The bathroom still smelled of soap and the faint metallic scent of the old paint somewhere in the distance.

“Do you feel better now, Marc?” she asked.

“I do, ” I said, feeling complete relaxation. The earlier discomfort was gone, replaced by a warm, heavy calm, and a quieter layer of guilt that I pushed aside for the moment.

She grabbed my hand and moved it to my mouth.

“How do I taste?” she asked again.

I had a dj vu. Just a few hours back I was sucking my fingers to taste Clara’s ass. Now I was tasting Katherine. The contrast made my pulse skip.

“You taste amazing.”

She smiled. Katherine cupped my now softening penis one more time and with her thumb and index finger removed a slick of the still dripping cum. She brought both fingers to her mouth and savoured them. Finally she added,

“And you, Marc, you taste very sweet.”

She stepped back, reached for the towel, and started wiping the mirror and sink.

“Look at this stickiness you left on my mirror and sink, Marc. I’ll clean up your mess here, while you finish cleaning mine in the closet. Hurry. Reena could be home any minute.”

I pulled my clothes back into place, the fabric still slightly damp in places from the paint, and headed back toward the bedroom. Behind me I heard the soft sound of Katherine wiping away the last traces of what she had caused. The house felt different now, quieter, charge, and suddenly very aware of the time.