It's strange that that was the way that he thought of her for so many years, that is as 'the woman down the block'. That's who she was. He never knew, certainly not at first, why she was 'different' than the rest of the people on that particular block of Cedar Street but that seemed to be the case. Only gradually, later, did he discover that Mrs. Olmann was a jewish lady living on their block, in fact the only jewish lady living on their block and that apparently made a difference to many of the others that lived there.
She had a son and daughter, who were married and already gone out of the house, by the time Jaime Donnelley got to know her. Her husband by that time was already gone and she wore, most of the time, black. It was a pattern for some women in those long ago days, the wearing black, when they were widowed.
His, what he would call later, 'association' with Mrs Olmann, whose first name was Amalia, began as a kind of accident.
Jaime was in the raging hormones era of his life just then. He'd discovered jerking off, the pleasure of masturbation, 'meing and meing' instead of 'heing and sheing' or 'no way', 'heing and heing'. It was an intense time. Everything, everyone caused him to have robust, rainbow colored dirty thoughts, it seemed.
He wondered what women, that he would see causally, looked like in their underwear. He wasn't above trying to get a peak at his Mom now and again, but worked to keep that impulse well under wraps. He also peeked at his sister time and again but she seemed to be crafty enough to know 'his game' and wouldn't cooperate. It was an exciting time in his life.
He was perpetually frustrated, and wasn't sex educated enough, at the time, to understand exactly why he was frustrated. That kind of knowledge would come to him but wasn't there yet.
There weren't, at least in his neighborhood, that many kids around. There were a few and he palled around with them but they weren't home just then. Eddie from up the street was away at a camp, and Jonesy, down the street way down at the corner was spending time with his Dad. He at times wondered what that might be like, since he had no Dad that he ever remembered.
To pass the time he stood in the back yard and hit a baseball. It was part of the game to go running after the ball, after he'd hit it, and that was okay for him. He liked, at his age, running and sports. It helped to keep his growing and burgeoning libido under control. He didn't realize that fully but would in later times.
The bat was a new one that he was kind of trying out, seeing if it would make a difference. He wasn't playing organized baseball these days. Hitting a fast ball wasn't, as it turned out, his cup of tea. He'd tried out for Little League as a 12 year old but they had spots on the teams for only 2 or 3 kids and he missed the cut. His only stab at it was at school but that hadn't turned out well.
But he was as much still devoted to baseball as he was to letting his dirty thoughts roam free and letting his hand seek out his erection to complete whatever scene was in his mind.
One things was true, however. Among those dirty thoughts, those scenes that rummaged around in his mind, those thoughts of neighborhood women in their underwear, Mrs Olmann, the strange woman in the middle of the block, who wore black, and was called, in the local youthful élan and misinformation, the 'black arrow', probably because her skin was kind of olivey in color, never figured. She was never in those sexual thoughts that haunted, and dominated his excitable mind. Not in those days!
He hit the ball well that day, to his surprise, and it sailed away. He watched and with chagrin and a bit of anger, realized that it went into 'Black Arrow's garden.
"Crap!" he complained, knowing that he'd have to sneak into her garden then and fetch the ball, always a risky thing. It was risky because they thought it was, not particularly because she was mean or anything like that. It was just kind of risky. That was the prevailing notion. But Jaime was not about to lose the ball. He'd never been able to hit the ball that far in the past. It sailing into her garden was such a surprise for him.
He went sullenly down the small hill and out into the alley behind the house. Past the near neighbors' house, the Craines, and then walked slowly, silently, cautiously up into her back yard. He stopped now and then and looked around. He saw no one.
"She's not home!" he almost sang to himself, totally pleased, and stole forward.
He got to the gate and silently opened it. He thought that he knew what part of the garden it had entered.
Now, Mrs Olmann's garden was her chief delight. She worked out there constantly. It was large and grown up with bushes and some trees. It had a vegetable patch. It had a flower area. It was pretty amazing but she was such a solitary woman that no one, it seemed, ever got to look in her garden.
He went sneaking through the garden and did spy the ball. He smiled. He was about to put one over on 'the black arrow'. He was grinning.
He bent to retrieve the ball and that's when he saw her!
She was home! She wasn't away at all and he was about to be caught.
But Jaime Donnelley had an immediate problem. He was rooted to the spot. He, in that first instance, couldn't move.
There, unaccountably, illogically and magically, it seemed, was Mrs Olmann, sunbathing! She was lying on a blanket.
No one knew that she liked to sunbath in her garden. No one knew that the very vastness and overgrown nature of the garden allowed her, their 'black arrow' to indulge this one small pleasure.
She was sunbathing and he was staring! She had a pair of light tan panties, and that was all; they were simply draped over her pubic area but he could see the hair, the large, very dark patch of hair. He cold see it! She had large breasts that kind of moved a little to the sides, since she was lying down on her back. Her nipples were a dark contrast to her olive colored skin, and she seemed to be dozing.
He had his ball, he had to leave, and his prick was standing at attention and singing the national anthem!
Then a few things happened at one time:
She opened her eyes. To his absolute amazement, she said nothing. She stared at him, who was staring down at her. She moved one hand so that the arm was across her breasts and sheltering her nipples. The other hand went down to shelter her pubic patch.
He was staring, almost rooted to the spot, and then, in what he was sure was the craziest impulse of his life, reached down and actually pushed her one hand away and moved the panties.
He was acting on automatic pilot just then. He never knew why or how he was aware that he could do those things. He had never questioned them, certainly not at the time, he just did them.
Once he'd moved her panties, and had moved that shielding hand from her pubic area, she didn't try to put it back. It encouraged him no end! He reached down--his next almost crazy, but very effective move, and grabbed her wrist. He skin was hot from the sun and he moved her arm so that her breasts were no longer protected. Her breasts were free to look at. He'd dropped her arm by her side, like the other one that he'd moved from her pubic area, and she left them there. She only stared up at him, only that.
Then Mr Crazy--what he called himself periodically afterwards for what he'd done--went on to his craziest act of all!
He never took his eyes off of her, and she stared up at him. He couldn't read the thoughts racing through her mind but wished that he could. She didn't move. In one swift movement, he knelt so that he was kneeling by her head and unzipped his shorts.
She looked at him simply wide eyed, as he took his erection out of his pants and began to jerk off!
Right there! Right there with the 'black arrow' lying there naked, he jerked off! 'Madman! Wild Man! Crazy Man!' is what he'd call himself later but right then there didn't seem to be any decision about it. It was what he needed to do.
He didn't last very long. In a very short time, he was cumming all over her face, almost impassive face. She watched and simply closed her eyes to keep him from getting it in her eyes.
When he was done, she opened her eyes and kept looking at him. It was then that he came to the realization that she was actually beautiful.
"Who would have thought it," he mused with himself, as the put his penis away, 'The Black Arrow is a babe!"
He wasn't sure later if that was the case or if it was simply that she was the first actual, live naked woman that he'd seen.
Naturally then he compounded the craziness right away. He moved, shuffled on his knees so that he was kneeling at her waist and, grabbing her hips, he moved her onto her stomach, so that he could see her ass. He wanted to see her ass.
He stared! It seemed plump, nice and rounded. He moved her again onto her back, this was the only time that he touched her. And then, his last act of craziness, he took the panties from the ground, where they'd landed and put them in his pocket, for god's sake!
"Came for my ball!" he said, as if to explain, why he'd been there, and jerked off on her face.
She nodded. He noticed that. She actually nodded and, not knowing what else to do, he left! Left the garden and didn't look back. It was like Orpheus and Euridice all over again. He didn't look back. Nor did he play with the ball and bat anymore that afternoon.
He went home and went to his room to read, and, the obvious needs to be added, to jerk off again.
.... There is more of this story ...