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Continued
We chatted each other up for a few minutes. Her parents were gone for the week up to Minnesota for her mother's treatments and her father wanted her to cut the lawn no matter what. I told her that she should always be aware of my favorite spot on Saturday afternoons.
"You know, it felt like someone was watching me, but I had no idea who," she said with a giggle.
"Hey, I'm sorry, but I wasn't trying to be a creep or anything," I said apologetically. "I'm just human."
"That's okay," she replied.
She must have been aware that her sopping wet t-shirt and cutoff shorts were plastered to her supple little body, but she didn't make any attempt to cover herself up. In fact as she was trying to manhandle the mower back into the garage, it seemed to slip out of her grasp and I jumped over to help her steady it. For a brief moment I felt her lean back into me, pressing her damp backside against me. She looked at me closely and intently but neither of us said a word.
This scenario thus became a regular weekly feature the rest of the summer. Weather permitting, early each Saturday afternoon I'd take up my position in the garage and she would mow the lawn, even if her folks were home or not. I imagine her old man must have wondered why all of a sudden she was volunteering for lawn duty. But then, if he was like me, he wouldn't have asked silly questions.
Her outfits varied from week to week. She wore the shorts with a tank top then a halter-top. Then there was the white shorts and white sports bra. The routine was basically the same, the basic lawn cutting followed by a quick shower under the garden hose. Each week her little "act" would get a bit more daring and explicit; she'd stick the hose down the crotch of her shorts or up her shirt; she's rub the cool water all over herself making sure her outfit was thoroughly wet and transparent. When she was through she took a little bow and I would applaud. She'd give me a little wave and disappear into her house.
Once during the week, I was out taking my traditional evening walk when I nearly ran into her and her friend roller blading. They both looked kind of sweet in their tank tops and skimpy shorts and their safety gear, helmets, pads, etc. She pulled up short and motioned to her friend to stop.
"Howdy, neighbor," I called out.
"Well, hello," she said. "I didn't expect to see you here."
"What no garden hose?" I cracked.
She gave me a little slap on the shoulder.
"This is my friend Gretchen," she said presenting her blond friend who sported a terrific big smile. "I'm trying to teach her how to roller blade."
"Nice to meet you," I said to her friend with the big smile. "Now I know one thing about her that I don't know about you."
"What's that?"
"Her name."
We both laughed.
"You know, that's right," she said putting her hand up to cover her laugh. "This is the guy I do my little show for when I mow the lawn. I only think of you as Mr. Neighbor Guy."
"Well, let me correct that," I said extending my hand. "I'm Johnny Porter, the friendly and appreciative neighbor."
"I'm Lauren," she replied taking my hand. "Lauren Mills."
"So what do you do for a living?" asked Gretchen.
"I'm an art critic. I specialize in performance art."
"Huh?" said Lauren.
"No actually I'm a sales manager for an electronics company," I said.
They caught on to my little joke and laughed. We chatted for a few more minutes and moved on our separate ways. I couldn't help but watch as they rolled down the street how cute their young butts were in their little shorts, their cheeks bobbing just below the hem. I could barely hear their voices as they moved away.
"So he's married?" asked Gretchen.
"Yeah, I think so. But so what," was Lauren's reply. "He's a nice guy."
The next Saturday was hotter than ever and Lauren was daring enough to wear a little bikini. Actually she came out wearing a t-shirt and shorts, but when she got around to the front of the house, she pulled them off to reveal the little black swimsuit. She made sure that the back of the suit was pulled up the crack of her ass like a thong. She didn't finish even half of the front lawn before she was over to the garden hose. At first she gave herself a quick shower, then held the spray closer and slower and let the cooling water flow down her chest. She pulled the front of the bottom out and let the water run down to cool her twat. She then pulled the cups of her top aside to rinse off each little tit. As she did so, she looked right over at me and smiled. She dropped the hose nozzle and took her time rearranging her suit top and bottom.
She returned to the mowing job abut paused once more before she was finished to repeat the same bit, but in a slightly different order, and this time she made sure that I could see her pointy little tits quite clearly as she let the hose water flow down over her. When she was finished she quickly shoved the mower into the garage and practically ran to the hose and held the nozzle over her head and doused herself thoroughly. When she went to rinse off her little tits, she looked both ways down the street and whipped her top up over her head and wriggled her shoulders, wiggling her tits in the process. She grasped at her suit bottom and looked as if she were about to drop her drawers, but the sound of an approaching vehicle caused her to grab her top and run quickly into the house.
The notion that maybe our little bit was getting out of hand crossed my mind. If the neighbors or her folks, or my wife caught on, we could both be in some deep shit. So it was probably just as well that my family was going on a north woods camping trip the following week and I would miss my little weekly show.
Chapter 2
For the week after my family came back from vacation, I didn't see Lauren's Jeep in the driveway and figured that she was probably away as well. On the week after that, my wife took the kids up to her best friend's cottage for a long weekend and since I didn't have any extra vacation time I stayed at home. So come Saturday when I noticed that Lauren's Jeep was parked in the driveway, I made my usual rounds of gardening and household chores early so I wouldn't miss my favorite show. But about 11 o'clock a couple of cars pulled up in front of the neighbor's house. One was the silver VW bug that I recognized as belonging to her friend Gretchen. The other was a Focus that obviously belonged to another friend of hers. Two young women emerged and walked with Gretchen up to the front door. I couldn't help but notice that they were dressed for the beach before they disappeared inside a moment or two later.
It didn't look as if I'd get my show today, and especially after missing it the week before and having the house all to myself. Just my luck, I thought to myself. So I took my time finishing up and popped into the shower to clean up. Maybe I could give one of my buddies a call a little later on so we could go out tonight and raise a little hell. I had a bite of lunch and decided to wash the minivan. After changing into a pair of cutoff shorts and getting the sponges and towels out I strolled outside to get started. As I wetted down the van with my garden hose, I noticed that all of the girls' cars were still parked around Lauren's house.
"Hey, neighbor! You can wash mine when you're done!" came a shout from across the street.
I looked up to see Lauren and her friends gathered on her front porch.
"You know, I'm feeling sort of lazy today, so why don't you ladies come over and finish the job for me?" I called back.
"Nah! I think you'd enjoy that a little too much," Lauren replied. "I wouldn't want you to embarrass yourself. Besides it's about time you gave me a show!"
For some reason I felt my cheeks blush at the thought and immediately went back to washing the van. But then, as I thought about it, what harm would it do? I did have a skimpy pair of cutoffs on, my tan was in good shape from sitting around the pool all summer, and since I was in pretty decent shape for a guy my age (probably twice theirs), maybe a little playful fun wouldn't hurt. So when I got around to the back of the van, I made sure that they got a good view of my butt; when spaying the soap off, I made sure that I doused myself real well. Actually, the cool spray felt good on such a hot summer day, and I heard a bit of chatter from my audience across the street.
"So what are you ladies up to on such a nice day?" I called out as I set the sponge aside in favor of a towel.
"We're waiting for a friend to take us out on her daddy's boat," Lauren replied. Her friend nudged her and said something "And by the way, neighbor, you missed a spot in the back."
"Where?" I shouted.
"Way down in the back," her friend called out.
I grabbed the sponge and watered it up and re-washed the lift gate and bumper.
"Still dirty," called out another friend.
So I bent way over and barely swiped it the van but made sure they got a good shot of my ass and even wiggled it to make sure they knew that their jig was up. They giggled and applauded. After I was done toweling the van dry, I slung the towel over a shoulder and walked across the street.
"Nice tan, neighbor," Lauren said.
"Same to you," I said, then noticed that the others were much more pale than Lauren. "Looks like your friends have some catching up to do."
"That's what we have in mind," said one of the girls, a long lean dishwater blond.
"So what kind of boat is this you're going out on?" I asked.
"I don't know exactly," Lauren replied.
"A big one," remarked the other friend. "A Hatteras, whatever that means."
"Those are nice boats," I said being vaguely familiar with them.
"Johnny, have you met Cindy and Beth?" Lauren asked.
"No, I haven't," I replied smiling at the two lovely young women.
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