This story is a work of fiction, and all characters are fictitious. Any correlation to real people is purely happenstance. This work results from a conversation's conjecture, specifically, what might make that storyline possible. Both characters are adults; one is thirty-six and still lives with her mother. The other character is nearing forty-seven and a widower. The main setting of the story is fictitious although Franklin is a common name for places in the south this one is not a real town. Warning, this story contains light female domination as well as CFNM. Leave a comment if you can guess the supposition of the conversation that enabled the story.
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On Friday, Pamela Elaine Gane walked down her rural road with a plate of cookies. Pam could smell the fresh scent of the southern pine trees in the breeze and make out the house finch chirping in the meadow. The heat waves distorted her view over the asphalt road as she walked. Pam loved the country setting of her neighborhood. The houses were at least an eighth of a mile apart. Pam only put in a three-hour day, having worked a five-hour day the previous Saturday. She had to work Saturday at the library; it was part of a rotating schedule, which gave her a long weekend the following week. Now just before one o'clock, she walked down Martin's sloped drive. After hearing, that her new neighbor was a sexy widower from her friend Rachael, Pam, a petite yet shapely demure single woman, though naturally reserved, wanted to meet the new man. News travels fast in a small town, and Pam wants to meet her new neighbor as soon as possible. Available bachelors were scarce in the small dying town.
Pam and Rachael were best friends and had been since grade school, even though they were like oil and water personality-wise. A gregarious cashier at the small-town grocery store, Rachael could effortlessly get information from people, a great conversationalist. Though Pam, her best friend, was the studious wallflower, she never got anything she wanted to say out correctly. Pam always felt a bit daft when talking to strangers. It was true that opposites attract as they were ever so close, like sisters.
Rachael had learned his name as Martin. Martin had told Rachael how his wife had succumbed to a sudden bout with brain cancer. Martin, a fit near forty-seven-year-old, had purchased an aging farmhouse and quickly renovated it before moving in. This move to the southeast from California was an attempt to move on from his grief. Plus, live more economically off his trade pension. Luckily, he had been able to take advantage of the twenty-five-and-out plan since he had worked for the Bay Area union since leaving high school. He would have worked longer if his wife had not become ill, but her final months took everything he had, making retirement the only fiscally sound solution.
"He is super-hot," Racheal had told Pam on the phone just hours before. Pam had started to make cookies right then as an excuse to meet the new neighbor, and luckily her mother, Carrie, had left earlier that day for the weekend. Pam's aunt was sick, suffering from an as-yet unexplained sore throat and debilitating migraines, and asked her mother to assist her with daily needs and help look after her brother-in-law, Rex. Pam's uncle was useless in the kitchen, and the two sisters knew better than leave anything house-related to him. Her mother's trip might last the weekend or a week as the doctor had yet to diagnose what Aunt Cheryl had. The illness was scary but had been perfect timing for Pam's plan. Pam's mother smothered her a bit.
Carrie Gane was even more stand-offish and frugal than Pam and would have nixed the expenditure of the few dollars' worth of ingredients to make the cookies. Things had been tight since her father, Floyd Gane, had left her mother, but of course, Pam knew it would only be an excuse to control her. Pamela's job was rewarding but not very lucrative, though things were better with another income. After struggling for years to raise a kid alone, Pam's mother still lived in fear about finances, but Pam was too lonely to be concerned with money.
Martin Sayer lived in an RV until the renovations were complete. He was selling the small used class C RV after finishing the house. Martin's grown son Randall had helped with the construction but had left the day before to return to his life and family in CA. Martin had sold his modest yet overpriced Hayward tract home and used the money for a sizeable down payment. His new mortgage was a fraction of his California monthly obligation. Martin had picked the ten-acre wooded lot for the seclusion. After living in crowded California, he wanted a quiet place. Not able to ditch his city roots, Martin had segmented a piece of the property adjacent to the house as a fenced-in privacy yard, like those in California suburbs. This piece, "the yard," comforted him because the thought of the entire property overwhelmed him. This 'yard' is now newly renovated, including adding a pool. "You can take the man out of California, but you cannot take California out of the man." He had only just moved in a day earlier, moving his belongings from the barn where he had temporarily stored them to the house.
It was the early afternoon of a hot late summer day, and the humidity was rising with the temperature. Pam had reached the freshly painted farmhouse; the old place had never looked better. Pam could see a sizeable new addition to the formerly small structure. As Pam walked up to the now impressive home heard splashing noises coming from the backyard. The hot southern sun blazed down as Pam walked up to the black wrought iron side gate.
"Hello, is anyone home?" No answer.
Pam, a librarian, regionally considered the local spinster; the small rural town had very backward ideas. Honestly, who calls someone a spinster these days, but change comes slowly in the mid-south. In truth, she was as lovely as intelligent, and only thirty-six years old, and never married. Still a virgin, other than her vibrator, which Pam was cautious to hide from her mother's sure disapproval. Just how she remained a virgin as attractive as she was, seemed miraculous. Pam was awkward around the opposite sex, but men had tried to woo her, but her mother was very possessive of her daughter.
Pam clandestinely pleasured herself with the small chrome cylindrical device while reading female-led pornographic fiction. The female characters in the stories were so different from how she behaved she felt drawn to them. Pam seldom had kissed, let alone dominated men, but those plots stuck in her mind like sweet honey. She relived the fictional scenes in her head, substituting herself for the strong female characters. Pam always possessed a healthy sex drive, but recently, Pamela Elaine became insatiable. Her mother had almost caught her when she let out an audible moan while masturbating the week before.
Pam resented her mother for the sad reality that her overprotective and bitter mother chased off the few suitors that had an interest in Pam, just as she had driven off Pam's father. No one had shown interest in over five years, but Pam had resolved to be more assertive this time. So even though there was no reply, she steeled her courage and went through the unlocked ornate side gate. Martin swam in the long narrow lap pool; It resembled a 'Q' tip having a long narrow end opening into a large oval. An artificial waterfall flowed into the oval poolside, and Pam could hear the soothing sound of rushing water. The pool was seventy-five feet long, perfect for laps. Pam walked up to it, offering the plate of cookies. Fixating on his muscular form, Pam soon realized that Martin was skinny dipping as she stood next to his disheveled swim trunks on the pool deck. Martin, whose ears were under the surface, did four laps before noticing Pamela standing there. Each twenty-five-yard lap ends with a flip-turn as Pam sees all his tall, lean, sun-tanned body. Martin finally saw Pam and shyly swam quickly to the pool's edge.
"I brought you cookies; I am your neighbor. My name is Pam," she said.
Martin blushed and pressed close to hide his nudity along the pool wall. Pam had so enjoyed the view of his taught butt as he swam; she grew week in the knees.
"Can you hand me my swim trunks?" Martin asked, looking at his floral print board shorts seven feet from the edge of the pool.
Pam hesitated, fully clothed, realizing how powerful she felt while attractive Martin was nude. Martin saw a Cheshire cat smile erupt on Pam's face and a playful glint in her eye. Looking closer at her lovely face, he noticed that she wore tastefully sexy make-up. Martin had a thing for well-applied cosmetics, but his late wife seldom had worn them. Pam usually did not wear cosmetics either but today was special; she wanted to impress Martin. Martin looked down her enticing long neck to her curvaceous lithe body encased in a wispy yellow and white sundress. Martin fell instantly smitten with his attractive neighbor.
"No, come out and have a cookie," Pam teased.
Now unmistakably aroused by his predicament, Martin did not want Pam to see his erection. Martin did not understand his body betrayal; how even the chilly water placed no restraint on his lower appendage. No one had ever seen his hard-on other than his now-deceased wife. Martin had always been a modest man. He did not usually skinny-dip, but he remembers how great it felt, so today was an exception. He mistakenly had figured it was safe enough in this very rural setting. Martin's exposed circumstance felt incredibly embarrassing.
"Give me my shorts, please?" Martin begged, his eyes pleading with her as he spoke.
Pam liked her view of a naked man in the flesh for the first time in her life and was not about to let this opportunity pass so quickly. She picked up his trunks and twirled in her enticing sundress, naturally swaying as she walked away from the pool and sat at an umbrella-shaded nearby green patina bistro table. Martin could not help fixing his eyes on her ass as she walked away, only stiffening his problem. Pam formerly was a very skinny young woman but had filled out nicely after thirty. Now her backside was perfectly round, and her breasts were excellent. Pamela laid the swimmers on the table next to the plate of cookies.
Martin looked at the now farther away swim trunks lying fifteen feet from the pool. It seemed impossible to get that far without giving the sexy lady a show. Martin thought of running to grab his shorts, but the reticent nudist feared she would take them away before Martin could reach them. He decided that it would be better to wait and think a little longer.
"Don't be shy; come out and have a cookie," Pam entreated as she crossed her shapely legs, smiled coyly, and batted her eyes as she had seen in old movies.
