Andy and Amy moved next door to me a couple of years ago. They were a nice enough couple but a bit bland. He seemed more interested in fussing about their lawn than anything else and she didn't seem to have any interests or hobbies. Boring.
They were good neighbors, though. Andy would often help me with groceries or give me a hand around the yard. As a widow well past retirement age, I was happy to accept a little assistance from the young man. It wasn't the easiest living alone and dealing with the chores my sweet husband used to take care of. Life can be rough for a widowed black woman of a certain age.
Andy looked like middle management. "He'd wave at me with a smile, "Good morning, Miss Rhonda." He was always congenial. Andy was chubby and conservative. He looked like he belonged at some desk at some Midwestern bank.
I remember thinking that Amy was a lot more attractive than her husband. You don't see a "ten" married to a "five" very often. She was a jogger with a tight little body, a small ass and perky little breasts. I wondered what she saw in her nondescript hubby.
A few months after they moved in Amy's boy toy (that's what I called him) started visiting during the day, when poor Andy was gone. Andy would be off to work in that grey sedan of his, and moments later the young stud was parking his red Camaro in their driveway. I have to admit that it was a little thrilling to watch the illicit escapades of the cute blonde housewife who wasn't so boring after all. Poor Andy.
Once in a while, if the wind was just right, I could sit on my back porch and listen to Amy's moans of ecstasy. She was such an enthusiastic cheating slut! I'd get a voyeuristic thrill listening to her sexy affair and a few times I was lucky enough to spot her young hunk on their patio enjoying an after-sex smoke. He looked good in just his underwear which contained a more than impressive bulge. There was finally some excitement in our mundane little neighborhood!
All good things must end though, and after a few months of getting railed by her stud, Amy left her dumpy hubby in favor of the younger man. Andy, living alone in a too-big house, was a mess. It was the least I could do to befriend the poor forsaken man.
Andy had some weight to lose and he wasn't manly or macho in any way. He certainly wasn't the sort of guy to catch a ladies eye. I did however enjoy chatting together and felt a motherly urge to help the poor man through a difficult time. Soon we started hanging out and I appreciated his company as much as he liked mine.
I don't think he'd ever had a black friend before -he had always been very sheltered. I could make him blush with the slightest risque comment. I enjoyed teasing him and watching him turn bright red. After a while, I noticed that Andy had developed a crush on me. That was a surprise. It's amazing for a lady's self esteem when she catches a younger man stealing a peek at her figure. My little sweet Andy was a tit-man, and I loved to show a little cleavage to give him a thrill. Compared to Amy, my black-girl ass was enormous and I liked to find some excuse to bend over in front of Andy -he'd always get so excited. I felt sorry for teasing the poor man, but it made me feel sexy again after all those years alone.
It was the night of Andy's anniversary with Amy and he was having a difficult time. We were sitting on my couch sharing a nice Cabernet together. Somehow between the tears and the wine, the poor man ended up sobbing into my shoulder. He was inconsolable and it was an awkward situation.
I felt protective of my unlikely friend and I put my arm around him to soothe him. Between the loneliness and the wine, Andy had a hard time getting it together. He ended up laying against me as I stroked his hair and whispered that it would be okay. I felt like a mother caring for an upset child. I was, after all, 30 years older than the poor man.
At some point Andy snuggled against my generous bosom. His cheek rested against the top of my breasts and his hand was on my thigh. I have to be honest; I enjoyed the contact. As we snuggled, his breathing became more calm and relaxed. Outwardly, we were sharing a sweet little moment, but I was a little aroused with a man snuggled against my breasts for the first time since my late husband passed away.
It turns out I wasn't the only one who felt a sexual thrill from our intimate moment. I noticed a small but unmistakable bulge in my neighbor's slacks. I don't know what came over me. "What's this, Andy?" I reached out to touch the tip of his little bulge with my index finger. He moaned softly into my cleavage and I thought he might start weeping again. "Are you having naughty thoughts? You are, aren't you?"
"I'm sorry." Andy sat up and wiped his wet eyes. "I'll leave. So sorry."
I unbuttoned the top button on my blouse as Andy's eyes widened. His hands were shaking as I revealed my large round tits. "Touch me, Andy." My voice was stern and he nodded submissively to obey. I stroked his hair as he laid in my lap, fondling the soft tit-flesh. He reached under my dress to feel my hard nipples with his fingertips. I looked at the tiny lump in his pants and noticed the growing wet spot there. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the feeling of my new submissive boy as he lost himself in my womanly breasts.
We became more intimate after that night, but we weren't lovers at first. Although I enjoyed my time with the shy man, I couldn't picture Andy as a mate. He was so unlike other lovers in my life -men who were assertive, aggressive and well endowed. Andy was the opposite.
He was thoughtful, though. Andy began taking care of my yard on weekends and busied himself doing little projects around my house -anything for an excuse to hang around. He did little carpentry projects and he'd bring me supper and a bottle of wine.
In the evenings, when I would let him, Andy would visit and lay his head on me as I lounged on the couch. He would fondle my big breasts until I opened my robe to present him with my charms. He loved to breastfeed and I enjoyed the feeling of his gentle kisses on my engorged nipples. Andy was never bored of kissing and sucking my tits and the little lump in his slacks was ever-present when we shared our intimate moments.
I loved to rest a heavy brown tit on his face as Andy sucked the teat from below. That sweet man was addicted to my mammaries and I'd often make him massage them when they became sensitive from the constant attention. It was arousing to know that I held such a power over him.
One one occasion when I touched the tiny outline of Andy's cock in his trousers, he moaned into my soft tits as a wet spot spread over his pants. "Andy, I can't believe it. Have you no self control?". He looked so sad and upset at the scolding. It was the cutest thing!
"Take off those clothes right now, Andy. Put them in the laundry and get the washer started. I can't have you staining my furniture with your little messes. Hurry up."
When he returned to the living room, my neighbor attempted to shield his privates from me with his hands. His face was red with shame. "So you think I should show you these," I opened my robe to display my mammoth tits framed by my sexy bra. "But you get to cover up? That's fair, is it?" The shock on his face made me chuckle.
Andy dropped his hands to his side and I looked over his body. I decided that I would be putting him on a diet. He was soft and pudgy. I noticed his penis, so tiny as to be almost lost between his legs.
Imagine the insecurity a man must feel from being so sexually inadequate. I thought about Andy's wife leaving him for a bigger and better lover and, although I understood her need for something better than Andy's minuscule prick, I thought about how much of a blow it had been to his fragile ego. He seemed ready to cry as I looked him over.
"We need to get you dressed, little one." I instructed Andy to retrieve a pair of underwear from the dresser in my bedroom. His cheeks grew red with embarrassment. "Pick a pair you like." I suspected he would love the opportunity to look through my underwear drawer.
I've always collected frilly and feminine things and I smiled to myself as Andy sorted through my lace and silk undies. Was he excited to wear a something of mine, or was he wondering what I looked like in them? He returned holding a silky blue pair.
