She stirred.
I opened my eyes and glanced at her: Tracy, my neighbor, my fantasy, now my reality. As I watched her, a relaxed and contented look on her beautiful face, my mind thought back over the past several weeks.
We had been neighbors for eighteen years, living four houses apart. As neighbors, we often waved as we drove by in the car or said "Hi" as we walked by each other's house. Through the years, when her firefighter husband was on duty, I would help her clear her driveway with my snow blower, as I did with all my neighbors during heavy snows.
She has always been an avid jogger and I often admired her as she ran around the neighborhood. She has dark blond hair cut just above the shoulders and a really beautiful face. Her body is tanned and fit from her constant jogging. Though I was happily married, I often fantasized what making love with her would be like.
She has two daughters, now grown and on their own. Sadly, she lost her husband in a fire seven months ago. I have a son, living in another city, and a daughter who is away in college. My wife died of cancer almost two years ago. We both gave our condolences to each other when our spouses died, but we maintained only the usual interaction.
About three weeks ago, that all changed. On a hot and humid afternoon I was working in my landscaping. I was just about to go inside and get a glass of iced tea when I noticed her walking by the house. Cooling down after a jog, she was dripping with perspiration. On the spur of the moment, I asked her, if she would like a cool glass of water or iced tea. Noticing that I was sweating as much as she was, she answered that something cool to drink would be great. I invited her to sit on the porch and went to get two glasses of iced tea.
We spent some time talking about our children, our neighbors, our spouses, and how we were doing living alone. She asked me what I missed most about not having my wife around. I told her that I missed the companionship, having someone to talk to, and the intimacy my wife and I had shared. When I asked her the same question, she said that her life was lonely, but she didn't miss any intimacy. I asked her why not, and she responded she and her husband never had much in the way of intimacy.
I told her that I was sorry, that I didn't mean to make her uncomfortable. She assured me that it was alright and continued to say that all he was interested in was himself, that as long as he got what he wanted, he never cared about whether or not she was satisfied.
Without thinking, I told her that she was such a nice and beautiful woman that I couldn't believe that any man would not want to please her in bed. She blushed but looked pleased at my comment. After a few moments of thought, she asked if I always took the time to make sure my wife was satisfied. I told her that I always tried and that my first goal when we made love was to make sure she was completely satisfied whenever she wanted. She said that she wished her husband had been like that.
I thought about what to say next and finally asked her if she had ever had a climax, an orgasm. She looked at me for a moment then told me that she seldom did with her husband and only when he took a long time. With a reddened face, she added that sometimes, when she was alone, she helped herself have one with her fingers.
I looked at her and thought since we had come this far I might as well take the next step. "Tracy," I said," I would love to show you what it is like for a woman to be the center of focus and be totally satisfied."
She looked at me for a moment and said, "I think I'd like that, John."
With a smile, I said, "Well, you run home and take a shower, and I'll do the same, and come back when you are ready, OK?"
