This story would also fit in the mature and exhibitionist/voyeur categories, but was submitted in the first time category.
It's a story that begins with a boy looking for his dog.
.....
Chapter One: Looking for Barney.
"Damn it, Barney!" I snapped while stumbling through the brush in search of the family dog.
It had become a fairly common occurrence for the little beagle to wander off at night when being let out for his final bathroom trip of the day before going to bed.
I had a love/hate relationship with the dog, and as he worked his way through the backyards of the neighbors, it wasn't love he was feeling from me. This was a quiet rural area but still, a guy could get shot if somebody got the wrong idea and mistook me for a prowler, but I continued on the trail as I followed the rustling of leaves that Barney was creating.
I was already three - no - four houses down from my house when I reached the backyard of the Yates family. Actually, it was now just Mrs. Yates, as their kids had grown up and moved away and her husband had left. Divorced, deserted, dead? Who knew? All I knew was that she was all alone in there now, and Barney was still ahead of me, in search of who knows what.
Must be tough to live alone, I thought for a second, and then shook my head. Living alone has got to be a lot better than living with your parents and kid brother. Having just graduated high school last June, I had started working at the local Price Chopper, and figured that if everything went well, I could get an apartment in town and really start living, because there was nothing to do out here in the sticks.
That changed in the blink of an eye, or rather, in the turning on of a light in the Yates house. I just about jumped out of my skin when it went on, so intent was I to find that little SOB, and then afraid that I had been seen and would be forced to explain what the hell I was doing out here, and so I jumped behind a tree and waited.
From inside the lighted room, I saw someone moving around. Mrs. Yates. She was moving around the room, and to my great relief she was not looking out the window to see who was out there.
She should get some blinds or something though, because you could see right through the window at her, just as clear as day. Of course, to see in the window, you would have to be standing in her back yard, as there were no houses behind the Yates place, and the adjoining houses were pretty far away and well out of the line of vision.
She probably figures that nobody wants to look into an old lady's bedroom, I surmised, moving a little closer while trying to stay out of the square of light that shone out onto the backyard.
Mrs. Yates had to be real old. I remembered her kids going off to college at least seven or eight years ago, and they were almost ten years older than me. That would make them at least 28, so that means that Mrs. Yates would be around 50 at least. That makes her older than my parents, and that means old.
Still, she didn't look half bad through the window, and for some reason I moved closer to the house to get a better view. Mrs. Yates - what was her first name? Rhonda? Rose? I had always called old people Mr. and Mrs., so I wasn't sure.
She had short reddish-brown hair and was wearing wearing a housecoat that looked a lot like the one my own mother wore, and that was certainly no turn on. Now if she would only take that thing off - now THAT would be something worth looking at.
As if on command, Mrs. Yates shrugged off the house coat and tossed it on the bed. Wow! Now Mrs. Yates was standing there in just a bra and panties, brushing her hair in front of the mirror.
The bra and panties were both white, and the panties were full cut, so none of her ass was showing. Her bra was one of those long-line type things, and it was plain to see why she needed that extra support. Those tits looked really big inside that bulky harness.
Never noticed that about Mrs. Yates before, but then again, I had never seen her without a blouse on. She wasn't built like those girls in the magazines. She was a little thick in the waist, and her arms weren't skinny little twigs either, but she was in good shape. If only she would take that bra off.
Just then, Mrs. Yates left the room. I waited for a minute, not sure if she would be coming back in the bedroom again soon. Hurry up, I whispered, because I've got better things to do than stand outside an old lady's bedroom window all night.
Like what? Looking for my dog? I knew that I would stay out here for quite a while longer, waiting and hoping. I was going to stay for as long as it took. This was not something I had ever done before, and it was a testimony as to how boring my life had become. The few friends I did have were now off to college, while I hung around here trying to figure out what I was going to do with my life.
Without even realizing what I was doing, my hand snaked down to my jeans and slowly pulled down my zipper. My dick was hard, and while it was tough to get it out of the fly, I managed without incident.
How sick this was, I thought, while my hand slowly stroked my member. Acting like pervert and looking into a neighbor's window was bad enough, but jacking off besides? Masturbation had become a regular event in my daily life, but now taking my act out on the road was bringing it to a new level.
Mrs. Yates appeared from around the corner, and I caught a brief frontal glimpse of her panties. No hair was peeking out, but I could see the outline of her pubic hair clearly as it pressed against the white cotton.
"Oh ma, that looks like a thick bush," I said softly to no one, happy that she wasn't one of those women that shaved their pussy. "Now just reach back and take that bra off."
Mrs. Yates didn't reach back to undo her bra. Instead, her hands went to the front and unclasped the hooks there, and instantly the harness lurched forward, and she casually let the straps slip off her shoulders.
"Oh man!" I gasped, as Mrs. Yates set the bra aside.
Her breasts were enormous! They burst out of their confinement the second that last hook came undone; tits as big as any that I could ever recall seeing in any magazine. They eased down to her waist like torpedoes, but they looked pretty firm, not sagging and droopy like some African chick in the National Geographic.
I came as this went on; my cock belching out seed all over the foundation of the Yates house as the force of my orgasm almost doubled me over.
While the last of the cum dripped out of me, I regretted not having more self-control, because now Mrs. Yates was rubbing some lotion on those incredible tits of hers, and her jugs were so big that she needed to use both hands to lather up each one.
Her nipples were thick stubs that stuck way out from the coaster-sized areolas, and while she massaged them, the nipples seemed to get even bigger.
