Chapter 2: A Helping Hand

I couldn't believe it. One minute I was laying there in bed, jerking off, and before I knew it, the room brightened, as somebody turned the lamp on. I hadn't even heard the door open. I turned, and there she was, my neighbor Bethany, dressed only in a pair of heels, her red hair cascading down her back, her huge tits... well, just huge. Before I even knew what was happening, she had crawled on top of me, pushed my sheets aside, and was riding my cock, her nails digging into my chest, her breasts bouncing, moaning louder and louder, then screaming, as I became increasingly worried that she might wake my parents. And yet I couldn't bring myself to make her stop. Pleasure flooded over me in a wave...

And then I awoke, my cock still spasming, my sheets a mess. This, of course, was not an uncommon occurrence -- I was 13, after all. What was different this particular morning was that it felt more real than usual, because of what had happened the day before. Or had it? That fact was, I couldn't decide whether the previous day was just a vivid dream as well, or if it had truly happened. My father was a psychologist, so I knew a little bit about the various disorders that make people believe things that aren't true. Certainly, I wasn't some paranoid nut who thought the CIA was after him, but was there perhaps a special kind of psychosis that affected only hormone-enraged teenage boys, and made them believe that their sexual fantasies were real? Maybe I'd run across Bethany's website and imagined it all? Certainly this made more sense than the idea that a gorgeous web model had gotten topless for me, then seduced me into masturbating in front of her, while she did the same in front of me. Still, it DID all seem very real. And when I went to my hamper and sniffed the t-shirt I'd worn the day before, there was the faint, sweet smell of her perfume where her hands had touched my shoulders numerous times.

Of course, the only way I'd know for sure if I'd been dreaming was to return to the scene of the crime. After a quick shower, I threw on some shorts and a fresh t-shirt, and made my way downstairs. The plan was to shovel down a couple of pop-tarts, a glass of orange juice, then head next door. So much for plans.

"Morning, Sweetie." There was my mother, sitting at the breakfast nook in some old baggy clothes, drinking her tea and reading the newspaper. My mother, who should have been at work at this time on a Tuesday.

I stopped in my tracks. "Mom. Hi. What are you doing here?"

She laughed. "Well, last I checked, I live here."

"I know, but... why aren't you at work?" I ventured into the kitchen for my pop-tarts, going through the motions as if everything were perfectly normal, although I was sure my face looked guilty as sin.

"I called in sick. I have a ton of days saved up, and there's some gardening I've been putting off because of the heat. It's supposed to be a bit cooler today than it was this weekend."

"Oh." I tried to mask my annoyance. With my mother home, I wouldn't really be able to justify going next door to see Bethany again. I guessed I could probably just leave, say I was going to a friend's, then more or less sneak into Bethany's house... but then if Mom happened to see me... or if a neighbor saw, and told my mother... it would create suspicion, and possibly ruin what could otherwise be the greatest summer for a 13 year-old boy in recorded history.

As if reading my mind, Mom asked, "So what do you have planned today?"

"Me? Nothing really. Probably just play games on my computer." Unfortunately, I thought.

"Nobody to play with?" At first, I thought this was a sign that she somehow knew something -- that "play" was code for what Bethany and I had done the day before. But of course that was just paranoia talking. What she was really referring to was Kevin. She knew that I'd spent 90% of my time hanging out with Kevin before he moved away, and that with him gone, I spent more time than ever in my room.

"Not really," I said. "I don't know, I might ride my bike later. See who's down at the park." Best to leave the option of exiting the house open for myself, I thought. Just in case I got bold, and decided to sneak over to Bethany's after all. "I don't know, I'll figure something out."

"You're always welcome to help me with the gardening work... but I'm guessing from that sour look you just got on your face that you're not really interested in that." She smiled. "Well, the offer stands."

"Thanks," I said. "I don't know, maybe."

And with this, I grabbed my pop-tarts and juice and went back upstairs to my room. Dammit, I thought. This screws everything up. What would I do now? I sat down in front of the computer, and decided to check my e-mail. Maybe Kevin had written. Nope. Just some junk mail. Then I pulled up the web browser, and typed in the URL to Bethany's site. There again was the homepage she'd shown me the day before -- her cupping her huge tits, smiling devilishly at the camera. I clicked through to the greeting page, and started checking out all the bikini and lingerie photos I'd been too self-conscious to look at when she was right over my shoulder. Almost immediately, I grew hard. I really wished she'd let me have the login to the members section, so I could see some of the nude shots. Yet it was probably just as well. With my luck today, I'd be right in the middle of masturbating, and my mother would come knocking on my door, asking me again if I wanted to help her do some weeding. Then I noticed something...

Of course, I thought. There, in the left-hand column, was her e-mail address. It was an AOL account. Which meant that if she was online, I could probably instant message her. Or I could at least e-mail her, and make another appeal for the username and password of her members section. It was worth a try anyway.

I typed in her screen name -- "BustyBethany34DDD" -- to see if she was online. She was. Excellent. Now the big question was whether or not she'd actually reply if I sent her a message. More often than not, whenever I tried to message women -- especially ones with hot member profiles or personal pages -- I was ignored. Probably because they got IMed so many times in a day. But again, it was at least worth a try. I typed...

PennsyGeekBoy: Hey Bethany, it's me Sammy, you there?

I waited for about a minute, but there was no response. Oh well. It was a long shot anyway. Maybe I'd just send an e-mail instead, and hope she didn't get so many letters in her inbox that mine would get lost in the shuffle. I had just started typing a note when an instant message came through...

SuperKewlTeenChik: hey sweetie!!!

PennsyGeekBoy: Who is this?

SuperKewlTeenChik: it's me Bethany

PennsyGeekBoy: You are there, cool! Why this screen name?

SuperKewlTeenChik: it's my daughter's account... mine had so many IMs

PennsyGeekBoy: Oh okay. That's cool.

SuperKewlTeenChik: are you coming to visit me again today?

PennsyGeekBoy: Not sure. My mom is home! :(

SuperKewlTeenChik: oh that makes it tricky i guess huh?

PennsyGeekBoy: Yeah, a little. I was looking at your site instead.

SuperKewlTeenChik: see anything you like? ;)

PennsyGeekBoy: I think you know the answer to that!

SuperKewlTeenChik: hey, i have an idea

PennsyGeekBoy: What?

SuperKewlTeenChik: sit tight

PennsyGeekBoy: Huh?

But this last message never went through. It told me "SuperKewlTeenChik is not logged on". I figured maybe she was switching screen names again. So I waited. For a minute. Another minute. Then I got impatient, and tried to message her again. Still not there. I tried her at her main screen name. Not there either. Maybe she got a phone call? I went back to looking at the photos on her site, trying to be patient.

Suddenly, my mother called up the stairs, "Sammy? Could you come down here?"

I checked myself, and saw that my erection had faded mostly. Good. "Coming, Mom!"

As I rushed down the stairs, I saw my mother standing at the front door... with Bethany! I stopped halfway down, and tried to size up the situation. The contrast between the two women was, of course, unmistakable. My mother in her frumpy t-shirt and baggy jeans, short, thirty pounds or so overweight, her hair a mess, hands and face already a bit dirty from the early stages of weeding. Bethany in a soft yellow sundress that went down to her knees, tall and slim and busty, her long red hair pulled together with a scrunchie behind her head, well-manicured long red nails, and a fresh face of makeup, including bright red lipstick. Both seemed to be smiling, but my mother's smile looked like more polite than actually amused. Bethany, meanwhile, just beamed, "Hello again, Sammy."

I began to panic. What was going on here? Had I just been busted or something? "Hi," I said, meekly.

My mother tried to fuss with her hair. "Looks like you have plans after all," she said.

I tried to let my confusion show on my face as much as possible.

"The pool," Mom said. "Bethany here tells me you said you might clean her pool today."

"Oh," I said. "Right. I forgot." I ventured the rest of the way down the stairs.

Bethany spoke up. "Well, we hadn't set it in stone or anything. If you're not free..."

"No," I said, carefully disguising my excitement. "It's okay. I'm not really doing anything."

"Did you fix a price yet?" my mother asked.

I turned to Bethany. "I don't know. Did we?"

"Well, how about... twenty dollars each time? And all the soda you want. And of course you're welcome to use the pool any time you like, as long as you ask me ahead of time."

"That sounds pretty reasonable," Mom said. "Don't you think, Sammy?"

"Sure. Very reasonable." At this point, I wished that Bethany would just wrap things up. I was starting to feel amazingly awkward. But instead, she continued to drag things out, and I suspected she was torturing me.

"Elaine (this was my mother's name), did Sammy tell you he fixed my computer?"

Mom smiled over at me. "No, he hadn't mentioned that." I shrugged in reply. "He is very handy with those kind of technical things. Sometimes it seems like the harder something is, the more determined he is to fix it."

"You don't say," Bethany said, catching my eye and smirking. "Well, I can appreciate that. I'm the same way usually. The harder the better. Just not with computers." I couldn't even believe she'd said that. I wanted to crawl in a hole, certain that my mother had caught the double-meaning. But if there was any recognition of it, it didn't show on her face. If anything, I got the impression that she simply wanted Bethany to leave."

"Well, I need to get back to my gardening," Mom said. "It was nice to meet you."

"Likewise. Sammy, come on over any time you're ready."

I nodded. "Okay." And just like that, my day got brighter.

I decided to wait a little while before going. I was afraid that if I just rushed over, Mom would suspect something. Better to play it cool. I planned on waiting an hour, but once half that time had passed, I was practically crawling the walls. Half an hour would have to be "cool" enough. As I made my way out the door and past my mother, she glanced up at me briefly, and told me to "do a good job". I almost wanted to scream out laughing.

Unlike the day before, Bethany answered the door right away this time. "There you are. What took you so long?" She rushed me into the house and shut the door behind me. Since I'd last seen her, she'd changed from the yellow dress into a skimpy red bikini, tall red heels, and a thin white sun robe that was open in the front. Her hair was still pulled back with the scrunchie. But no matter what else I looked at, my eyes kept coming back to her tits. She caught my glance and smiled wickedly. "Did you miss them?" she asked, and leaned in close. With the difference in our heights, this put her chest directly at face level, and her sweet perfume assaulted me.

I swallowed hard. "Yes, very much."

Suddenly, she took my right hand in hers, lifted it, and brought it to rest on her soft tit. For a moment, I nearly forgot to breathe. This was certainly new territory. Bethany leaned in to whisper hotly in my ear. "They missed you too," she said. "In fact, they were very mad that they never really got to meet you."

I held my hand still against her breast, knowing I should do something, but unsure of exactly what.

"Would you like to meet them?" she whispered.

All I could think to do was nod.

Bethany gently pulled my hand away, took a step back, and lifted the bikini top up and over her tits, leaving them to bounce slightly as they were set free. Again, her nipples were rock hard marbles, and again I was amazed by the sight of her amazing melon-sized beauties. She stepped closer, and took my hand once more, guiding it to her breast. I cupped it gently, pressing my palm against the nipple, and she moaned softly. "Ohhh, Sammy." Then, surprising me, she hooked an arm around my waist, and began to pull me toward her while she moved backwards at the same time, until she finally crashed against the front door and I crashed against her, my hand still on her tit.