My mother was French and she named me Bonaparte. Only a few people know that because for as long as I can remember I’ve been called Bo. I’m in my late fifties and seriously considering early retirement from my five-day, nine-to-five job as regional manager of a major wholesaler. My wife, Rita, is a real estate agent. She often is away from home evenings, week- ends, and frequently overnight to attend seminars. We’ve been married almost twenty-six years.
I love my wife, but as far as I’m concerned our sex life went to hell at least ten years ago. I masturbate frequently, usually while looking at photos in Penthouse. And I often fantasize about the woman next door.
Her name is Patricia, better known as Pat. She and her husband, Rick, moved here about seven years ago. Since then, I’ve become fairly-well acquainted with them. Pat is attractive and, to me, sexy as can be. I’ve seen her in a snug-fitting top, apparently not wearing a bra, so I know she has rather small breasts with big nipples. She works at an accounting firm and has the same hours as I do. Rick’s job requires a lot of travel, which upsets Pat because he often has to be gone overnight and weekends.
On a warm Saturday morning, the phone rang just after my wife had left to attend an all-day meeting in a town which is a two-hour drive from here. When I answered the phone, a sexy voice that I immediately recognized, said, "Bo, this is Pat. Rick’s gone this weekend and I need some help. When you get a chance, will you give me a hand?"
"No problem. I’ll be right over."
When I arrived at Pat’s, she told me, "I’m replacing fluorescent tubes in our kitchen. The last time I did, I dropped one of them and shattered glass all over the place."
"I’ll be glad to do the job for you."
"Thanks, but all I’d like for you to do is stand by the ladder to hand me the tubes and to catch one if I happen to drop it."
We went to the kitchen. She climbed the ladder as I stood beside it and handed her a tube. As she reached to install it, I looked up her skirt and felt myself getting hard. Her legs were far enough apart for me to see the strip of pink panties nestled in her crotch and between the luscious cheeks of her ass. After installing the second tube, she momentarily lost her balance and suddenly lurched. I still was looking up her skirt. Thinking she was about to fall, I instinctively grabbed her leg. Above the knee.
"Watch it, buster," she snarled.
"That’s what I was doing."
"What’s what you were doing?" she asked indignantly.
"I was trying to watch it."
"Watch what?" she growled as she climbed down the ladder.
"The place between your legs."
"That’s disgusting. You’re nothing but a dirty old man."
