Chapter 1

Having graduated from high school I decided to take a gap year before going to college. I wanted to work and save up some money. My dad approved, since that would require fewer student loans and everybody knew how crippling student loans could be when it came time to pay them off.

I got a job inputting medical records for insurance claims. It was boring, but the more work you did, the more you got paid and I could do it from home on my own desktop computer. And I could work whenever I wanted to, instead of being the slave of an employer’s clock. I also had four or five lawns on our street that I’d been mowing since I was twelve. I had learned to tell people to pay me whatever they thought the job was worth. Nobody wanted to seem like a cheapskate and I usually got paid way more than if I’d just charged by the hour.

I knew that our neighbors on one side of us, the Richardsons, had moved. Their house had been for sale for a while. I didn’t know why they moved. Both of them were pretty old, so maybe they moved to a retirement home or something. That’s important because what happened, happened at that house. Now, when this event happened, my parents were gone, because my mother had won an all-expenses paid trip to the Bahamas or somewhere and they decided to use their own money to extend that to a month. They called it their second honeymoon. So I had the house to myself, which was kind of nice. I didn’t have any parties, or anything like that, but I could run around in my underwear and eat whatever I felt like. I also got a lot more work done because my mom wasn’t constantly asking me to do this or that chore. They thought that, since I was still living at home I should have to work for my room and board.

A while back my parents had a pool built in the back yard, with a nice patio around it. It wasn’t huge but I could do some laps in it to keep in shape. I couldn’t skinny dip because the fence around our back yard was only four feet high, but it was nice to be able to lay out and swim and all that.

I was doing that one day – laying out – when I heard and then saw people moving stuff into the Richardson’s house next door. I didn’t think much about it because it was just a bunch of guys taking furniture and boxes in.

Then a woman came out of the house and I perked up. She was a babe, one of those women who you instantly think “Jenny McCarthy” when you see her. What I mean by that isn’t that she actually looked like Jenny McCarthy. Her hair was blond, but had some brown in it, too, for instance, but she could have been a Playboy Bunny easily. I had emptied my balls pretty regularly in high school while I stared at pictures of Jenny, which is why I mentioned her name.

Anyway, this woman next door was maybe five-nine. I’m no good at guessing weights but if I had to I’d have put her at maybe a hundred and twenty pounds. She was wearing shorts and a shirt that had the tails tied under her breasts, kind of like a halter top that had sleeves on it. That shirt was packed just full of happy looking breasts. That dishwater blond hair I mentioned was pulled back in a ponytail and she had those pronounced cheekbones that I find really sexy. She was so gorgeous my cock started to react instantly.

Then she went back inside and was gone. It was like I’d had a little daydream and when I woke up it was all over. I kept an eye on things for a while but I didn’t see her again.

Eventually I had to quit loafing and went back inside to do some work. About five o’clock or so, the doorbell rang. I was still in my swim suit, but I answered it anyway and I took in a breath that just froze in my lungs. It was her. She was just as good looking up close.

“Hi!” she said, her voice high and soft. “I’m Valerie Stanton. We’re moving in next door. The water isn’t on, yet. Could I borrow some water for us to drink tonight? They say our water will be turned on tomorrow.”

I noticed she had one of those smallish coolers in her hand. It was blue and white and might hold maybe a gallon of water.

My breath finally whooshed out and I blinked several times but then stepped back. I could have just taken the cooler, filled it up and given it back to her, but I wasn’t really capable of cognizant thought. She wasn’t wearing a bra under that shirt and her nipples were making a clear imprint through the cloth.

She stepped in and held out the cooler.

“Okay!” I blurted. It didn’t make a lot of sense but I felt like I had to say something. “Follow me!” I gasped, after that.

We had to go through the living room to get to the kitchen and she said, “What a lovely home you have.”

“Um ... yeah,” I managed. I was aware that the front of my swim suit looked like I had a sapling in it. Well, okay, maybe not a sapling. I’m not that big, but there was no way in the world a casual observer could miss the fact that I had a serious hard on. I went to the sink and pressed up against it.

The top of her container screwed off and I started filling it with water.

“I hope tap water is okay,” I said as my mind began to function again.

“It’s fine,” she said. “Water is water, you know?”

For some reason I thought about that town in Michigan, where the pipes were lead and they put something in the system to clean things out, except it caused the lead to get into the water and it was really, really bad. Our water was okay, though, and my dad thought bottled water was a scam, which meant we didn’t have any in the house. I started filling up her container.

I think thinking about Flint Michigan had gotten me preoccupied or something because when her little gallon Igloo was full I screwed the cap back on and just turned around to give it to her. She was standing four or five feet away, looking at all the little plaques my mom has decorated the kitchen with. Like “This is Julie’s Kitchen. If you’re not Julie you need to leave”. Not that my mom’s mean or anything. She is just territorial when it comes to her kitchen. That was one reason I was glad they were on their second honeymoon. I could make a grilled cheese sandwich and not have Mom standing over me the whole time reminding me to wipe off the counter and put my dishes in the dish washer and sweep the floor for crumbs and wash the skillet and on and on.

Anyway, I said, “Here,” and she turned to look at me. I was holding the container out in one hand and, as she looked at it, I saw her eyes fall to what I had forgotten about. I know she saw it, but she didn’t say a word. She just walked toward me and took it.

“Thank you. You’re a lifesaver...” She paused in that way that gives the non-verbal indication she’s waiting for you to say something and her voice inflection as she said “lifesaver” rose a little, which suggested she had a question in her mind.

“You’re welcome?” I said, making it a question instead of a response.

“What’s your name?” she asked, bluntly.

“Oh! Um ... Bob! I’m Bob!”

“Well, Bob, you’re a lifesaver. This will give us enough water to drink tonight.”

I have no idea where this came from, probably some You Tube video I saw somewhere, but I thought about where that water would end up after it was finished being used. With guys it’s easy. The whole world is our urinal. But female types don’t like to squat in nature and that meant by tomorrow their new toilet might be pretty odiferous.

“I think we have a bigger one of those I could loan you so you could flush your toilet before tomorrow,” I said. I pointed to the gallon jug she was holding in two hands, pressed against some other jugs that also looked like they could hold a gallon. At least together.

“That’s so sweet!” she said. “I didn’t even think about that!”

“I’ll bring it over in a bit,” I said. “I have to find it, first.”

“I could have my husband come over and get it,” she said.

Damn. Husband. Oh well. I thought about Donnie Wahlberg getting to fuck Jenny McCarthy on a regular basis, so knowing she was married wouldn’t severely impact my future masturbation fantasies.

“No,” I said. “I know we have one but it’s out in the garage, somewhere. You guys have had a long day moving in. Just relax and I’ll find it and bring it over later.”

“All right,” she said in her perky soprano voice. “You’re just a doll for helping us like this.”

“No problem,” I said.

“You said ‘we’ earlier. Who is ‘we’? Are you married?”

“Me?” I gaped. “No! I just graduated from high school! This is my parents’ house. They’re away on their second honeymoon.”

“Now that’s adorable,” she said. “All right. Our furniture is here so we can relax. I’ll leave the front door open so you can just drop the water off.”

“Okay,” I said.

She left and I watched her ass cheeks go up and down, alternately, like you see on a big cat when a jaguar is stalking something. Her ass was even beautiful.

She let herself out, since I was still standing in the kitchen, like an idiot. I looked down and it could not have been more plain that I had a boner in my swim suit.

“Fuuuuck,” I groaned. “You’re such an idiot, Bob,” I said to myself.

I wanted to jerk off then and there, but I needed to go find that Igloo water cooler my dad had used when we went camping when I was young. We didn’t do that anymore. They said it was because I grew up, but I knew it was because mom hated camping.

So I went to the garage and saw the big orange container right away, on a shelf high up. I had to get a stepladder to get it but by the time I was thinking about which hose to use to fill it at least my boner had relaxed a little.

I filled it up and screwed the lid on it. Then, since my brain was actually working again, I changed out of my swim suit into thick, denim jeans and a checkered shirt that I knew hung low enough in the front that it would cover the penis I planned to have tucked up flat against my pubes when I delivered the water.

I carried the five gallon container over and when I tried the doorknob it was locked.

So I rang the bell and the door was suddenly opened by this guy who was kind of going to fat, and was going bald and needed a shave. He reached for the handle on the Igloo, said, “Thanks, kid,” and then stepped back to slam the door in my face.

It’s amazing how disappointing it can be when you expect one thing to happen and another one happens instead.

I didn’t see Mrs. Stanton for two more days. Then, while I was working one day, around three in the afternoon, the doorbell rang. I was wearing running shorts and no shirt. My parents believed that the thermostat should be no lower than 75 in the summertime. “If it’s ninety-five outside, that’s a twenty degree difference,” my dad said every so often, like he thought I might forget he’d said it ten times before. “When you come inside it should feel like you’re in a meat locker!”

I’d never been in a meat locker, but I was pretty sure they didn’t store raw meat in a room that was 75 degrees.

Anyway, that’s what I had on because it was cooler so I opened the door and there she was. This time she was wearing an actual halter top that was fairly overflowing with soft looking breasts. I also saw a big smile on her face, but only after I saw all that cleavage and then looked up and realized I’d just gotten caught ogling her. A smile like that can be interpreted in several ways. It could be a laughter type smile, as in, “How funny is that? As if he’d ever have a chance to see more of them.” Or it might be along the lines of “How sweet. He’s wracked with puberty, the poor boy. The least I can do is brighten his day.” It could just be “Hi, I’m happy you helped me. Thank you.” But I didn’t think of that, then.

“Hi again,” she said. “Here’s your jug back.”

I looked down and saw our Igloo hanging from her right hand. As she lifted it I looked at her cleavage again. I couldn’t help it! I wasn’t trying to be rude. It was like her boobs were magnets and my eyes were made of iron. I watched the right one tense up as her arm lifted the weight. It was kind of fascinating. Then I came back to Earth and reached to relieve her of her burden.

“Thank you so much, Bob,” she said.

“Any time,” I said, on auto pilot.

I looked at her face for once and saw her eyes were not looking at my face. Instead they seemed to be looking at my chest.

That was okay, because I’m kind of proud of my chest. When I was in high school I was a wrestler and I worked out a lot and I got pretty buff. In the month since I’d been a civilian I hadn’t worked out, but I hadn’t lost too much definition. So having her look at my chest was better than having her look lower, at the loose sports shorts I was wearing, which were clearly exhibiting another erection caused by this fabulous woman.

“I have a question,” she said. I forced myself to meet her eyes, at which time her eyes had moved ... lower ... and then came back up to meet my own. “Is there any way it would be possible for me to take a quick dip in your pool? I’ve been working on the house all day and I could really use a break.”

“Of course you can,” I gushed, as if I were answering the question, “Is there any way possible I could walk across your grass to get my frisbee that landed there?”

“Oooo thank you!” she chirped. “I’ll go get my suit on. I really appreciate this, Bob.”

She left and I went to put my jeans on again. I had a T shirt I got somewhere that was a 3X and it hung on me like it was a dress or something, but it covered my groin.

Ten minutes later she rang the doorbell again and I opened it to find her wearing a pretty conservative one-piece suit that was the color of blue that the girls on the swim team wore. She still had all the bulges, but her skin wasn’t so visible. Well, her legs were, and the bottom of the suit was kind of cut high. She had the legs to go with her body and face. I wanted to ask her if she’d ever posed for Playboy but managed not to commit that blunder. She was holding a big towel and had that smile on her face again.

I just led her through the house to the sliding doors that opened onto the patio. She went out and looked around. Then she put her towel on one of the chaise lounges. Then she walked over to the pool and made a beautiful swimmer’s dive. She turned over immediately, like an otter, and let her momentum carry her to the middle. Her breasts were in the air but I only got a glimpse of them before her body dropped and she began treading water.

“This is great!” she called out. “You’re lucky to have a pool.”