Chapter 1: The Candaulist

I heard the sound of the lawn mower change in tone. As if he had stopped to move something out of the way. Then from the corner of my eye I saw Eric standing behind the mower with his head turned toward me. He looked like a deer in the headlights of a car. His mouth was open and he was bare chested with only a pair of athletic department light gray shorts draped on his slim hips. The picture of young manhood you love having as a neighbor.

And the realization came to me that I was standing in panties, and pantyhose brushing my hair with the blinds open on the window that looks out over the lawn. I continued brushing. Unsure why I was not panicking and running for cover. I stepped idly into a pair of heels, aware that the young man outside my window stood, mouth agape staring at my bare breasts swaying with the brush strokes.

I could not help myself. The realization that I was thrilled to have this attention came upon me slowly. A tingling sensation at the back of my neck, and then a buzz that ran from my nipples downward. I was brazenly exhibiting my body to a seventeen-year-old neighbor. I was thrilled, though I knew that I should put on some clothes I continued brushing my hair, even turning slightly toward the boy and standing very erect. My breasts are my best feature, I have always thought. They fill a C-cup and have always had a nice shape, too. Where some breasts take on a blunt, rounded shape, my nipples have remained more conical in shape. So my breasts are like teardrops with a forward, slightly pointed shape that I think is quite attractive.

Of course, displaying them in the nude has been limited to my husband, but still they are attractive when fully dressed, too. Now my nipples jutted out, stiff and firm, and standing tall in high heels emphasized the shape. I stood a little more erect, enhancing the shape still more. I was aware of the silence of the room and the glowing sunshine streaming through the large window framing a view of the pool on a slightly elevated level and the lawn boy, now seemingly thunderstruck staring at my near nude body.

"What is he thinking?" I wondered, keeping him in my peripheral vision. "How many girls has he seen?" "Do I look old and unattractive to him?" I wondered. "How long has he the nerve to stand like that, brazenly spying on me in my own bedroom?"

I put the brush down and shook my hair in a swirl around my head and shoulders, fully aware that my breasts swayed back and forth, following my shoulder movement. I turned and walked straight toward the boy, toward the makeup table in front of the window. Pretending I didn't see him, I kept my eyes on the table and sat on the comfortable padded stool, then leaned toward the window and the table and picked up my lipstick.

I was hardly breathing as I posed for his pleasure. His pleasure and my own, I reminded myself. Slowly, I took my brassiere from the table and began to put it on, as I raised my eyes finally to meet his. I cupped my breasts with both hands and the loose cups of the bra. He shook himself and pushed heavily at the lawnmower, pulling his eyes from my raging nipples. I gasped slightly, aware that I had been holding my breath waiting for him to turn away.

He was busily trying to pretend nothing had happened, that he had not stared at me in my bedroom. Below the elastic belt of the light gym shorts the soft gray flannel material draped over a prodding pubescent prick, even as he tried to walk in a way that might obscure it. I shivered all over my body with the realization of having stimulated him sexually in such a way.

I continued fastening my brassiere behind my back, wishing he could get up the nerve to come back and stare some more, but wishing heartily that I was not having that thought at all.

I felt very naughty. And between my legs I felt warm and moist with the stimulation of our sexual byplay. I was blushing. Belatedly, I was blushing. This was surely madness. I could not have actually done this, had I? I couldn't allow the thought that I had not only enjoyed it but had prolonged it. Weren't there rules about that, especially with teenagers? I justified it in my mind a little bit. I hadn't really tried to attract him. I had just stood there. He should not have been peering into my boudoir, after all.

I also knew that I wanted more of this thrilling teasing. It had pleased me and pleasured me. Ruefully, I put my hand between my legs and fondled myself. My panties were soft and moist.

I stirred the lemonade and watched from the kitchen window as he marched back and forth across the lawn, sweating in the hot sun. The spoon clanked against the glass. The lemonade had been beaten into froth, so long had I stirred it. Waiting to talk myself out of continuing my mad teasing of the youngster, or to get up the nerve to continue. Which was it?

Finally, I decided. After all, it was just the offer of cooling lemonade to a nice young man. The fact that I had stopped my dressing routine and put on a nearly sheer dressing floor-length gown and was revealing in the way the silky cloth clung to my body made no difference, did it? I was lipsticked and perfumed to go out to a fancy luncheon with the Hospital Guild ladies. But there was plenty of time for a little lemonade in the shade of the big oak tree.

I went out the door balancing the tray on one hand and pushing the door with the other. Then waved to Eric when he turned at the end of one sweep of the lawn. He shut down the machine and walked toward me wiping his sweaty face on a handkerchief.

"Hi, Eric, you look so hot out here in this sun, I thought you might like a lemonade."

I was seated on an iron barstool, aware that my leg had parted the robe and that my long leg looked golden in the sunlight, thanks to the pantyhose I had chosen.

"Oh, thanks Mrs. Barton, it sure is hot enough." You look like you're ready to go out, though. You didn't have to bother making lemonade. Delicious though." He was talking fast and keeping his eyes averted.

I crossed my legs so that both were now splitting the gown and my legs looked sexy even to me.

"Oh, I'm in no hurry, just a lunch with the Hospital Guild later.

We sipped the lemonade and I dangled my shoe from my toe, swinging my leg a little. His eyes followed my foot and then sneaked along my thigh to the top where my legs game together.

"When is your next soccer match, Eric, your mom told me you are doing well this year."

He talked a bit about the soccer match but my mind was wondering if pantyhose make your panties less interesting to a young man's eyes. I uncrossed my legs just as his eyes drifted down to my crotch. His chair was lower than mine so I knew that he had to be looking up my skirt. I parted my thighs a little to make sure he could see deep along my nylon covered thighs to my panties.

My nipples were as hard as his young cock must be by now, though he was covering it modestly with hands crossed in his lap. I slipped one hand inside the robe as if adjusting something about my bra and his eyes followed. I fondled my breast a little under the silk of the robe and looked off to the line of trees at the bottom of the yard, then crossed my legs again and turned slightly so that he was staring at the side of my thigh where the robe hung open.

"It' a pretty bathrobe, Mrs. Barton." He said quietly.

"Oh, just an old thing really ... but cool for summer, so I hang onto it. Thank you, though, Eric, it's nice to hear a compliment." I smiled into his eyes and thrust out my breasts so the robe emphasized the curve.

Eric smiled nervously.

"Do you like the color of my stockings? I just got these and I love how they feel. Not sure about the color, though. What do you think?" I stretched my leg out and watched as he looked longingly at it.

"Oh ... I think the color is perfect. Looks nice on you. Your tan and all. I mean." He stumbled over the words, slightly embarrassed to be discussing my legs with me, I guessed.

"They are nice and soft and silky. Feel them. Go ahead, I won't bite you. I offered my leg to him.

Slowly he touched my ankle.

"Oh, Eric, go ahead, see how silky it is." Finally he ran his fingers along as far as my knee and I felt my pussy lubricate a little more.

"Yes ... very silky ... nice." He gasped.

"I better get back at the lawn, I got practice later. Thanks for ... the lemonade!' He put the glass down and I saw that he was worried about the erection I could see through the little gym shorts he was wearing.

"Yes, me too, hon. It was nice talking to you and sharing ... the lemonade, I mean. I'll leave the pitcher here, just come by and help yourself, won't you?"

I stood leaning slightly against the stool letting the robe split around my legs almost up to my panties and watched as his eyes followed up and up and then turned reluctantly away.

I went inside to finish dressing. But first I lay back on my bed to gather my thoughts. I had shamelessly flaunted myself in front of that boy, I chastised myself. But in my heart I knew that my heart had been going like a trip hammer as his eyes caressed my body, my legs, my breasts, everything.

When I lay back on my big soft bed, my dangling feet no longer touch the floor and I feel like floating. I slipped my hand inside my panties, combed through the full triangle of hair, pausing to feel its silky texture and slipped my finger into my slit to find my clitoris, there in the steaming damp between my legs.

"My god, I'm not this wet when David and I are getting ready for sex." I thought how I would like it if Eric came back to my window and watched me now. Right at this moment and saw me with my hand between my legs. With my legs spread and my fingers toying with my pussy inside my panties and pantyhose. Watching me as I brought myself to an orgasm thinking of his pretty young body and his pretty prick.

"Ohhhhh, oh, oh, oh, my god! Yessssss. Oh, Eric."

Eric's mother sat next to me at the luncheon. It made me a little uncomfortable but we are good friends so it was quite natural. I was sure my face was blushing, from the thoughts I had just had about her son.

"I can't remember how he talked me into having four children! How was I to know they would all grow up to be teenagers? Drama queens and quiet gangling boys with nasty habits?" It was all good-natured of course, but Marge always had a comic slant on the way her days went with her children.

"Oh, Marge, you have great kids. Eric was over mowing the lawn this morning and he is such a sweetheart ... so polite ... works hard." I grinned at her, then looked off into the distance.

"You made a bad deal, you know. He is so smitten with you that he would work for nothing. You pay him too much. He's got more money than I have." The other girls laughed. "It's true, he's always telling me the neat things Mrs. Barton does, putting his hard working mother down. All his friends voted you the prime MILF of the neighborhood!" They all laughed.

I blushed and asked what MILF meant.

"It's kind of a compliment, at least the boys think it is, it means you are one of the mothers they would like to do!"

My blush went all the way to the roots of my hair at that. I had to think of the letters and the words, finally it clicked, 'Mother I'd Like to Fuck.'

"Ohmigod. Are you kidding me?" I said. They all nodded and laughed at my not having heard the term. My nipples tightened and a shiver went through me thinking of all the teen-age boys in the neighborhood. "But they are all such angels." I protested.

"Oh, yeah!" they laughed. "Angels with dirty minds."

"And then they go off to their rooms to sulk if you ask any questions. That's fun to put up with! And then they do things in their bedrooms I'm not supposed to know."

The meeting continued after the lunch. Marge had driven and on the way home she talked more about her concerns with Eric.

"But you must be proud of him. He's a good student, good in athletics, isn't he? And I don't know what I would do without him taking care of the lawn."

"Oh, yes, he's all those things. But boys are ... I don't know ... so complicated!" she parked in front of my house and shut off the engine. "Going through puberty is complicated. Eric is very shy. But they all have these sexual things that are hard to understand. I find towels that have been used somehow in masturbation and it makes me mad! And just last week, Ellen ... I don't know whether I should tell ... but I found a pair of my panties sticking out from under his mattress. What am I supposed to think of that? I can't talk to him or he will stay in his room with his earphones on and I won't know what is going on."

I didn't say anything for a while.

"I suppose that would be one of those things the psychologist would say is a natural part of a boy growing up. Don't you think?" I offered it tentatively.

"I dunno," she replied. "But just think of it as a woman ... How would you feel?"

"The truth?

"Yes."

"You might think this is terrible. But I have to admit, a tiny part of me would feel, what should I say ... flattered..." I said the word in a small voice. "But ... I suppose that would just be a first naughty thought." I stared out up the street at the kids on scooters. My cheeks were red.

"To be honest, then. Thank you. I had those feelings too. But he is my SON. I guess I am not supposed to feel that. Now every time I am dressing I look at the panty and wonder where it has been" We exchanged a look and finally laughed about it.

"I think you are being to hard on yourself, Marge. There are a lot of complicated emotions about sex, no matter who is involved."

"He doesn't date. I guess it's because he is just shy and afraid of rejection, but shouldn't I do something about that?" She pondered.

"By the way, I 'm sorry about mentioning you in connection with the MILF comment." She grinned at me and slapped my arm gently. "I didn't mean to embarrass you. You should have seen the look on your face and the blush. My god!"

"I forgive you. It was funny, after I got used to it. You didn't have to laugh so loud though and attract the whole damned room." I replied.

"And by the way, how does that make you feel? Knowing all these teens with their hormones in high gear think you are hot?"

Blushing again, "Being honest again and between you and me, I get a little kick out of hearing that." I looked into her eyes. "I admit that there was a little sexual thing went through me, when you told me that." I gave her a crooked smile and waited for her reply.

"You are an honest lady, Ellen Barton. A lot of our friends wouldn't admit that. And I like honest MILFs. I mean I like honest women. Some of these kids are really hotties, I admit."

She started the car and I opened the door.

"But Ellen ... you are my son's favorite person. If there is anything you can do to ... I don't know ... help him come out of the shell he's in." She looked off down the street, then back into my eyes. "I hope you will. Oh, I know you will. I know you like Eric and would be good to him anyway. So, thank you for being his friend."

"Sure, my pleasure. He's a terrific kid, Margie!"

"But hide your underpants when he's around!" She giggled. "Or, don't! Whichever will do the most good!" She laughed long and hard as she drove away.

My ears were ringing. Was she trying to tell me something? Warning me? Did she already know about this morning and my shocking behavior? I decided that it was probably Marge being Marge. She is one open person. What you see is what you get.

Back in my bedroom, I stripped off my pantyhose and my skirt and blouse and lay on my bed once again. My feet dangled and I lay back looking at the ceiling. I realized my panties were slightly moist from the conversation and my mind wandered back to this morning. I actually found myself wishing Eric were there outside my window watching me play with myself through the satin panties. It felt like a pool of cream under the satin right in the bowl shape around my vagina.