The Neighbour's Son Pt. 03

My name is Lynette, and I am a very successful businesswoman. Until recently, I had moved out of town when I had embarked on a business venture that, unfortunately, did not turn out as successful as I would have liked.

I have returned home and have rekindled a new business with me ex-husband -- no we will not be getting back together. We have worked together before, and we were a formidable team that made lots of money: he looked after the finances and paperwork while I was the saleswoman. This partnership just works! There's no romance between us. That died years ago.

I live in a small house is at the end of a tranquil street. The home next door to mine is owned by my very dear friend, Cathy. She is a few years older than me, and we have been great friends for years. Re-kindling this friendship is one of the reasons for coming back home. Strangely, we are such good friends, but we don't have very much in common. Cathy is a very conservative, church-going citizen. She was widowed three years after the birth of her son, Mathew. Since Cathy doesn't believe in remarrying, she is not interested in seeing other men.

I am in my mid-thirties, and I still think that I am attractive. I'm not tall: I am five feet four inches. I don't know what the metric equivalent to that is: I have always measured heights in feet. But I like tall men; the taller, the better, as I love to wear my high heeled shoes. I have been told that my long legs look fabulous, and I love the way they look when I am in heels.

Like most women, I have an extensive collection of shoes. My shoes are nearly all heels, and when I go out on a date, I wear sexy, tall stilettoes. I like to keep fit by walking and heels shows off my thin, toned calves to perfection. I know that wearing heels is not considered healthy, but I do agree that heels change my posture and I like the "ready for sex" message I am displaying as, to be honest, I am always ready for sex.

I am also a very spiritual person. When I connect with people, I tend to form deep, empathetic relationships. Some people think that I can read minds. It's just that I can really sense other people's moods and thoughts.

AT THE WASHING LINE

I was having a lazy day today. Yesterday, my neighbour and best friend's son had helped me clean up my garden and outdoor deck. That activity had finished with me getting a soaking of water. That had led to my best friend's son and me having some fantastic sex yesterday afternoon, and now I was doing the washing up.

I had already done a load of towels, and they were already hanging on the line. The washing line occupied the small area between Cathy and my house. I thought back to the massage that I had given to Mathew after he had beautifully played with me in my shower.

I had used the large, fluffy white towels to protect my bedspread from the massage oil. That massage had quickly changed to some fantastic sex.

I had forgotten how virile young men could be. Mathew had recently turned twenty-one. I was looking forward to giving this young man an education you just won't get at school.

I had given all my small, Wicked Weasel bikinis a delicate wash. I opened the washing machine and removed the clean swimsuits. They were protected in two lingerie bags, so I unzipped them and transferred them to my wicker washing basket.

I had dressed in a Wicked Weasel white cotton nymph top and a pair of naughty denim shorts.

The white cotton top was very sheer; I sometimes sleep wearing it.

I am only five feet four inches tall, and I had to stretch to reach my washing line. It needed to be this high as, otherwise, my cotton sheets from my king-sized bed would scrape on the ground.

Call it OCD, but I always like to pair things up when hanging stuff on the line. So, therefore, I pegged my sets of bikinis up in order. I still use two pegs clipped on the wireline, and I would drape the thin lycra strings over the pegs so the bikini G-strings would hang the-right-way-up. I simply tied the strings of my bikini tops onto the wire.

The effect was that when you looked at my washing line, all my bikinis appeared as if they were on display. The bikinis bright colours stood out against the white background of my big fluffy towels.

Subconsciously, I wanted people walking along the street to see my assortment of bikinis and judge me as a cheeky, hot woman. In reality, I lived on a quiet street, and the only person who would see my bikinis was Cathy, my conservative neighbour and best friend.

Just then she opened her door and came over to the fence to have a chat. I had a premonition that there was something on her mind; however, the first words out of her mouth were confrontational.

"I wish you wouldn't wear those skimpy clothes," said Cathy. "It makes you look like a harlot!"

"Well 'good morning' neighbour," I replied. "I'm close to wearing want you are. I've worn a cotton top with denim trousers."

"It's not the same," said Cathy exasperated.

"Trust me, men want to see their women dress like this," I teased as I bent down to get something from my washing basket.

"I'm glad I've raised Mathew to be more respectful of women than that!" responded Cathy.

I just stared at her with a raised, well-manicured eyebrow.

Cathy continued, "The scarf in my hair has more material than what you are wearing!" exclaimed Cathy before she stormed off inside in frustration.

I thought to myself, what was that all about? Just then felt my phone vibrate as I received a text message. I keep my phone on silent as I am often in sales meetings and I don't want to disturb my clients while chasing a critical deal.

I quickly looked at the phone's screen as the new message popped up. The message simply said: "Nice under-boobs. ;-)". It was from an unknown number.

I nonchalantly looked around and caught a quick glimpse of Mathew staring at me from out of his bedroom window. He must have looked at my business card, that I gave him a few days ago, to get my phone number. I made a mental note to add this number to 'my contacts'.

I looked at Mathew through his window as I moved across to the end of my washing line nearest to his room so I could hang up my last bikini. As my small lawn sloped downwards in that direction, I had to stretch up just a little bit further to reach the line.

I think I have a trim figure but, as I stretched up to tie the last of my bikini tops onto the line, I could feel my abs protesting slightly. It was a reminder of Mathew's glorious workout yesterday afternoon when he fucked me on my big bed.

I hoped that I was giving Mathew a good look at more 'under-boobs' than before.

UNPACKING

During my unpacking, I had found the boxes which had my paintings, and so I was sorting through them. I liked to think of myself as an accomplished amateur impressionist artist. I heard a knock on the door, so I got up to see who was there.

My heart sank as I saw it was Cathy.

As I opened the door, Cathy apologised, "I'm sorry for my outburst, earlier."

"Darling. There's nothing to apologise for," I responded as we hugged and gave each other an air-kiss.

"Well, we've hardly spoken to each other for ages," continued Cathy. "I'm sorry for being so judgemental," She added after we broke apart from the hug.

"Thanks," I said. "I'll make a pot of coffee. Would you like to join me?"

"That would be nice," Cathy replied. "I've just baked a cake. I'll go over and get it," offered Cathy.

"Deal," I said.

Cathy returned a few minutes later with her home baking. The smell of fresh coffee wafted through my front room. I set up the coffee and some plates on my kitchen bench. Cathy transferred her delicious looking cake to my chopping board. "I'm sorry for calling you a harlot, earlier!" she said.

"Look, thanks for your apology," I replied. "Come, sit down. I've been looking forward to catching up."

We chatted for ages. If there was one thing Cathy was good at, it was knowing all the local gossip. I guess it came from her involvement in the local church.

Towards the end of our conversation, I sensed that Cathy's demeanour had changed. "I'm going away on a Church retreat in the weekend," she announced.

"Oh, what for?" I asked.

"It's nothing, just a leadership workshop," She said. "The thing is, Mathew, will be home alone."

"He is twenty-one," I commented. "I am sure he can look after himself," I added as my mind drifted to how he had looked after me yesterday.

"Did he hurt himself yesterday?"

"No. Why do you ask?"

"He says he is off the doctor today," announced Cathy. "It's just that he was cagey when I asked him about it."

"I'm sure he is OK," I said, not wanting to reveal that he might be aiming to get tested due to my request. I couldn't help having a small, private smile at that thought. "You're going to be away all weekend?" I said in an attempt to change the subject.

"Yes. I get back Sunday afternoon."

"Tell Mathew that I'll cook him dinner on Friday night," I said.

It took all my effort to keep a straight face when Cathy said, "I'm sure he will enjoy that."

If only she knew, I thought!

"Can I ask you one more thing?" said Cathy a little sheepishly.

"Sure, Darling. You can ask me anything."

What Cathy said next really caught me off guard. "I want some help sprucing up my wardrobe," she blurted out. "I actually like seeing dressed the way you do."

I nearly coughed on my coffee as Cathy said that. Regaining my composure, I replied, "Sure. I can help you. What do you want, exactly?"

"I've been feeling so frumpy, recently," revealed Cathy. "I don't know what I want. Can you help?"

"Sure thing," I said. Getting up, I continued, "I have something that you might want to try."

After ferreting around for a while until I found what I was looking for. "Take a look at this." I held out a one-piece swimsuit that I had tried on but found it didn't fit me properly. It was called an 801 made by Wicked Weasel, and the fabric was matt electric-blue lycra.

"I can't wear that!" exclaimed Cathy. "There's nothing to it."

"Sure, you can. It covers your front, and you could wear it with that denim skirt you are wearing now," I suggested.

"I'm not sure," hesitated Cathy.

"Why don't you go upstairs and try it on," I said. "It'll be only me that sees you in it."

"OK," said Cathy reluctantly.

It was some time before Cathy came back into my front lounge. I caught a glimpse of her coming down the stairs from my kitchen. "Wow!" was all I could say. "I mean, Wow!"

Cathy went bright red with embarrassment but managed to do a twirl in front of me. She had put on the swimsuit. She had also taken my advice of wearing her denim skirt over the top.

I could see that she had a gorgeous figure. "You look fantastic," I said. "Where have you been hiding all these years?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're a hot babe," I said as I stood behind her looking at her reflection in the full-length mirror next to my front door.

I could see that Cathy had an impressive cleavage that I had never seen before. She fitted out the swimsuit perfectly. Even though the material was opaque, I could easily see her hard nipples poking through.

Playing it safe, I didn't draw attention to the fact that she was completely backless. The one-piece had two thin straps that crossed over behind her shoulder blades, and the suit had a thong string at the back.

"Let's go out for a drive?" I suggested.

"I couldn't!"

"Come on," I said as I grabbed my handbag in one hand and grasped Cathy's hand in my other. I dragged Cathy out to my convertible car that was sitting on the driveway before she could stop me. "Here. Hop in," I said as I held the door open.

"Where are we going?" asked Cathy. "Not around here. I hope."

"Let's go for a long drive away from here." I sensed that Cathy didn't want to be seen by anyone who would recognise her. She climbed in the car, and I closed the door behind her.

We raced off and had a fantastic morning. I noticed that Cathy seemed to become more relaxed the further away from her home we got.

I couldn't help but notice that with the wind whistling around and up through our hair, both Cathy's and my nipples were clearly hard and poking out from our tops.

"Babe, you've got a fabulous figure," I said as we turned into our street.

"Thank you," said Cathy sheepishly. "And thanks for today. I'm sorry for what I said earlier, too."

"That's OK, I said. "Tell Mathew I'll be glad to share his company during the weekend," I added, keeping a straight face.

"OK," said Cathy as she raced into her house before anyone could catch her, showing all that bare flesh in my old skimpy one-piece swimsuit.

FRIDAY NIGHT

There was a knock at the door, and I was pleased to see Mathew was punctual.

I opened the door and greeted Mathew. He had got dressed in a nice collar shirt. I was standing there in my open door wearing a red lace dressing gown which I had made sure was fully open. I had red lace-topped stay-up stockings, ridiculously high shiny red heels and nothing else.

I didn't care who saw me standing like this. In fact, I would have welcomed someone seeing me. As it was, it was only Cathy's house that looked over my front porch and, as I knew, she was away.

Mathew, on the other hand, just stood and stared at me. "Don't I get a kiss?" I asked.

I am five feet four inches, and fortunately, Mathew was tall enough for me to wear these heels. He bent his head down slightly as he moved in to kiss me. As he pressed his body into mine, I could feel his nice hard erection through his trousers.

I whispered into his ear, "I am going to be your Mistress tonight. Would you like that?"

"Yes."

"Yes. What?"

"Oh. Yes, Mistress."

"Good boy," I said. I reached up and buckled a thin collar around Mathew's throat. It had a leash attached. "You'll do as you're told. Won't you," as I smiled seductively at him.

"Yes, Mistress."

"Oh. We're going to have fun tonight," I said as I lead my darling boy in with my leash.

I sat down on my seat. I spread my legs, exposing my bare smoothly-waxed pussy.

"Sit!" I instructed Mathew, pointing to the carpet between my legs where I wanted Mathew to kneel.

"Yes, Mistress."

"Are you hungry?" I asked as I pulled the skin just above my pussy, exposing my clit.

"Yes, Mistress." I could see the lust in Mathew's eyes as he gazed at my aroused pussy.

"Look at me!" I instructed, pulling on the leash gently.

"Yes, Mistress," said Mathew. I could see his eyes were dark and dilated.

It was so erotic having this young stallion kneeling at my feet struggling not to gaze at my bare pussy. I felt so powerful as, at that moment, Mathew's attention was focussed solely on me, and he desired nothing else but to please me.

"Would you like to eat me?"

"Yes, Mistress."

I am sure he could smell my scent as I was incredibly turned on. I pulled gently on the leash, pulling Mathew's head down to my aroused pussy. It felt so good to be in control of this young man between my legs.

"Do you like my smooth pussy?" I asked.

"Yes . . . Mistress," stuttered Mathew.

"Good boy," I purred. "Lick me!" I instructed. Mathew dived into my pussy with youthful enthusiasm. "Slow down, darling," I said. "We have all night."

"Yes, Mistress," said Mathew with my juices smeared all over his face.

"That's better," I whispered as Mathew changed to licking me in long, slow strokes of his tongue. "Oh! God. That feels good."

Mathew ate me out wonderfully. He was such a good learner. I held onto his head as he sucked on my sensitive clitoris. I knew I was going to cum soon. I lifted my legs up and wrapped them around his back. The tips of my heels pressed into his skin. I sensed that he enjoyed this slight pain as he increased his tempo.

"Oh! God. Make your Mistress cum!" I cried out, pressing his head into my pussy.

By this stage, my whole body was writhing around in time to his tongue's onslaught. I am sure that, as I tensed up, my shoes dug into his back.

"OH, GOD! THAT'S IT -- I'M CUMMING! -- I'M CUMMING! -- I'M CUMMING!" I screamed over and over as I bucked against Mathew's head. I had no neighbours who could hear me, but I didn't care how loud I was. I have been called a "screamer" by previous men in my life. And I'm proud of that title!

Eventually, my orgasm came to an end, and I had to push Mathew's head away from me. "Whew. That was nice, Darling," I complimented him.

"Thank you, Mistress'" was his submissive reply. I thought to myself, this boy had so much potential!

"Are you still hungry?" I asked. "I've cooked a really lovely meal for you tonight.

"Yes, Mistress," replied Mathew. "I'd be glad to eat anything you have to offer," he said with a grin as he wiped my juices from his chin.

"Good boy!" I said as I kissed him passionately as I tasted myself on his wet lips.

I directed him to sit at my dining table as I went into the kitchen. The table had been set out with my best cutlery, and I had lit three candles. In the kitchen, I looked at the timer on the stove and saw that there were just a few minutes to go before everything would be ready.

"Would you like something to drink?" I asked.

"Yes, please, Mistress," replied Mathew. "Do you have a cold beer?"

"Oh, darling," I teased. "We'll have something smoother than beer."

I pulled the cork out of a vintage bottle of red wine and poured two glasses. I passed one glass to Mathew. Picking up my drink, we clinked glasses as I made a toast, "To tonight!'

"Tonight, Mistress," responded Mathew.

I own a small riding crop which I picked up. Sitting on the edge of the dining table next to Mathew that allowed my lace topped stockings to sit clear of the hem of my red lace gown, I rubbed the shaft of the crop up and down my wet pussy.

"Do you have something to tell me?" I asked.

"No, Mistress."

"Nothing?"

"No, Mistress," he said with a confused expression.

"Didn't you see a doctor earlier this week?"

"Oh, that," said Mathew surprised. "Yes, Mistress."

"What do you have to tell me?"

"I got tested," said Mathew gulping. "I'm STD free, Mistress. The results came through yesterday."

"Oh, you're a good boy!" I said.

"The certificate is at home," said Mathew. "Do you want me to get it?"

"No. I trust you," I said, encouraging him. I dipped the handle of the crop in my slick pussy. "But I'm going to have to punish you later for not telling me straight away!"

"Sorry, Mistress," said Mathew as he watched me dip the handle of my crop in and out of my wet pussy.

"Don't worry," I said. "You'll like my punishments. And you will be begging for more!"

"Yes, Mistress," said Mathew with his beautiful, broad grin as he looked up at me.

Just then, the timer went off on my stove, indicating to me that dinner was ready to be served.

I had cooked a dinner of filet mignon. I thought Mathew would need his strength for tonight. I accompanied the dish with cheesy potatoes and steamed asparagus. I took great delight in seductively sucking on the tips of the asparagus as the hollandaise sauce dribbled down my chin.

It was nice to talk with Mathew about his plans. It seemed as if he had a confident idea of what he wanted to do once he finished University.

When the main course was finished, I got up and cleared the table. Mathew offered to help me, but I declined the offer. I usually don't like anyone else in my kitchen.

"Would you like some dessert?" I asked.

"Yes, please, Mistress," replied Mathew.

I climbed on the end of the table and said, "I am the first round of desert," as I spread my legs apart.

Mathew took this as a cue and bent down and licked me again. This time he started much gentler than earlier. This boy was a good learner, and I stroked his hair to encourage him.

"That's so nice," I hissed as Mathew drew my sensitive clit into his lips. I felt his tongue playing with my nub as his lips kept up a gentle suction. I was lying back on my hard, oak table as I grabbed the stilettos of my red heels with my hands. My legs were spread as wide apart as they could go.