He was working in his garden at the far back of his property in the later afternoon. It was how he did his unwinding these days. He'd had an earlier shift that day, an active one. He'd remarked to himself that you'd think that the criminals would take the day off, when it got so hot.
The heat was another thing. It was intense, even for this part of the country noted for its heat. But Jesse was strange that way; he loved the heat. For him it was a way of soothing the day by going out in the heat and working in the garden.
But as he was working around the plants, he smiled. He knew that Mrs Campion next door was watching. She was always watching. He didn't really understand if she thought that he never noticed but he always did. She watched him at work in his garden.
In deference to the heat, he was wearing a pair of running shorts. They were basketball types, long in the legs, reaching to the knees. He had them, he knew purposefully, slung low on his hips, realizing that he was showing a bit of 'plumber's crack', as he hunkered down to work on the roots of the plants with some mulch. At the age of 36 Jesse Lake was a marvelous looking man.
He worked his way over to the edge of the garden, the edge nearest to Mrs Campion's house, when he heard the soft swish of a screen door. He went on with his work, soaking up the heat, sweating profusely but enjoying it.
"Aren't you hot?" the voice said.
He stopped and turned, aware now that his shorts were low enough on his hips to be showing his hip bones and the plane of his lower stomach. He smiled at his neighbor.
"Is a bit hot but I don't mind at all!" he said.
"Well, let me mind for you," was her pleasant answer, smiling at him.
Jesse grinned inwardly at how she was dressed. Despite her, he figured, 60 to 62 years, she was dressed in a red halter and a pair of tight short shorts, and looking really good.
"Advertising the merchandise," he reflected to himself.
"I do have some iced tea made, lieutenant," she went on, "if you'd like to have some."
"Well that would be nice Mrs. Campion," he said, stretching and walking toward her front porch.
She almost flinched, he realized, as he got up on the porch. He towered over her, though she wasn't that particularly frail. Jesse Lake was just a big man. He smiled down on her broadly:
"I appreciate this, Mrs Campion," he said, and she smiled back at him.
It was obvious that she was nervous and he sensed that she wasn't sure that she was comfortable in inviting him over now or not. He liked her sense of being ill at ease. It made him smile that much more.
Alice Campion was in fact 61 years old and a bit of a society matron. She had her hair put in a bun, gone to white and gray, and kept herself trim. The fact that she looked good in her short shorts and halter at her age was ample proof of that.
She found herself being a terrible snoop, where Lt Lake was concerned. He was such a large and gorgeous man. She almost dined on the view she had of him regularly working in his garden but today it was almost too much for her. He was showing his broad muscled back and the shorts rode low on his hips, revealing a bit of his butt crack, as he knelt down to work on the plants.
It caused her breath to quicken and she gave in to her impulse to invite him over for iced tea. She didn't know why she did that but sensed that a move on her part was necessary. Now she was almost frightened with him here and being so big. He was also excessively sweaty.
"Well, step in please, lieutenant," she said.
"Jesse!" he said to her, making it, she thought at least, almost an order.
"Jesse, yes," she said, "I'll just get the iced tea."
He was smiling as he watched the wiggle of her hips and ass cheeks against the fabric of her gray shorts, as she walked away.
"Nice show, Mrs C," he said to himself.
She came back with the tea and handed it to him, standing close to him but not knowing what to do next at all.
Jesse regarded her, taking the tea from her and taking a sip and then putting the glass down on the table. She was looking at him like the proverbial kid in the candy store, as though she didn't know what was next.
He realized that he did though.
He liked the sense that he was getting here of her being caught in the glare of the headlights and brought to bay.
He reached out, totally sure of himself, now that he'd watched her for a few moments and pulled her to himself.
"Ohhhh," was the noise that she made, when he did.
She came to herself a bit and said: "Please don't ... it's just that you're ... um, sweaty; I don't mind at all but I don't like ... um, sweaty men..."
Her voice trailed off then and he laughed.
"I'll teach you Mrs C," he said, and pulled her closer.
He reached up and grabbed her by the bun at the back of her hair.
She said another 'Ohhhhh', as he pulled her face into his sweaty chest.
"Please!" she said softly.
"Please what, Mrs C?" he asked. "Please make me lick the sweat from your chest?"
"No, no," she said, her mouth now actually in contact with his sweaty chest, her lips residing just above one of his nipples.
She tried to move her head but he held her in place securely.
"Ohhh," she said for the third time, and now she put her arms up and on his shoulders.
It caused Jesse to smile. He thought that he was right and knew now that he'd won with this interesting neighbor.
"Lick!" he ordered, "Use your tongue on me! Lick the sweat!"
"Ohhhhh" she said, and he laughed: "Alice, you say that a a lot. Now do as your told!"
"Yes," she murmured.
"Sir!" he snapped at her, and it had the effect that he wanted.
"Yes, sir!" she said, and then he felt the rasp of her tongue on the sweaty part of his chest just above his nipple.
"Yes, yes, Alice!" he crooned. "We'll teach you to love sweat. You just work there."
She made a kind of throat noise and continued. She had her hands on his shoulders and rubbed her face across his sweaty body, licking with her tongue as she went.
He gave a laugh, as she got to the left edge of his chest.
"Now a treat, Mrs C," he said to her.
She gave out a small cry as he raised his left arm in the air, and possessing her hair by the bun again, pulled her face into his armpit.
"Now lick there!" he said.
"No, please," she complained.
"Be a good girl, Alice," he said, "Do what you're told!"
"Yes, what I'm told!" she said, as she buried her face in his sweaty armpit, licking and sucking at the hair there, while he chuckled and said a very patronizing:
She broke away from him, when she'd licked her way through the sweaty hair of his armpit. He was grinning at her. Then he kissed her.
It was a kiss that aimed to take possession. It caused her to rub herself against him, almost automatically, without thinking. He was stealing her, she sensed and she was letting it happen.
There was only one small spark left in herself that demanded that she stop what was happening, what she was allowing. She broke away and, as he laughed at her, went to the kitchen.
She came back in a few minutes with a long butcher knife in her hand.
"I don't want to do that," she said.
He laughed again, telling himself that his was getting better and better.
"Alice, Alice," he said to her, humor in his voice, "What are you going to do with that?"
He walked toward her, completely unafraid. As he got closer, she began to doubt what she had in mind also.
"I, ... uh ... don't know!" she admitted and her hand went to rest, as he simply took the butcher knife from her.
"Bad girl!" he said, "Threatening a police officer, and one who is treating you so nicely!"
"Yes," she repeated, "So nicely!"
"Well, I know what this is for!" he said, and moved toward her.
She flinched and he said: "Don't move, Mrs C!"
She stood still, her eyes getting even wider now, as she realized what he was about to do. He fitted the edge of the knife under one of the straps of her halter and simply sliced through it. Then he cut the other strap. The halter sagged and the tops of her breasts showed.
"Lovely," he said. "Not saggy at all."
"Thank you!" she answered.
"Alice!" he said severely, "Sir!"
"Thank you, sir!" she said, giving in.
"But let's finish," he said and now snicked at the front panel of her halter with the knife, cutting through it and let the garment flutter to the floor, exposing her breasts and hardened nipples.
"Better!" he said an she shook her head 'yes'.
"But more to be done," he said.
Her shorts were the kind that had large buttons all the way down the front. He stared at her, taking in her enraptured gaze, as, one after another, he snipped off the buttons. As he went, the shorts began to open and sag, showing, after the second button, the sheen of the pink nylon fabric of her panties.
When the last button was taken care of, he murmured to her:
"Move your hips, Alice, get it done!"
She knew what he wanted and seemed to have no reserve for saying 'no' at all. She wiggled her hips, her hands on his shoulders again, and let the shorts go down to her ankles. Then she stepped out of them.
"Take the knife back to the kitchen, Mrs C," he ordered and she shook her head 'yes' and went, realizing that his gaze was now fastened onto the wiggle of her ass cheeks beneath the nylon fabric of her panties. The very thought heated her throughout her body.
.... There is more of this story ...