It seems pretty rare these days when a house in a neighborhood sells quickly once it's put on the market. We've even seen some homes, priced at what seems to us, very reasonable prices, hang around for months and months and months with no offers and little activity.

Then, the one next to us went on the market. It was priced a little high, we thought, for what the market currently holds, yet we saw a sold sign added to the top of the sign about a month on the market. Evan and I had several discussions of just who might have paid, so quickly, what we thought was a price a bit too high.

Now, it was a nice house and in good condition needing very little in the way of rehab or upgrading. But, still, we felt there were better buys around.

Then a moving truck came and unloaded into the house, a truck from Cincinnati which is about three hundred miles away. Evan and I had just gotten home from work as the truck was pulling away and our new neighbor was turning to walk back into his house with the signed paperwork.

He waved as we pulled in, then turned and walked toward us. Well, now we get to meet the mystery buyer, I thought. As he neared us, I saw a nice looking man, maybe around fifty or so, dark hair graying, especially at the sides, trim, about six feet tall or so with a delightful grin.

"Hi, folks, I'm Scott Momson, looks like we're neighbors," he said as we all shook hands.

So, we chatted for a few minutes, found out that he was being transferred here as a production manager for a factory nearby and that it was just him, he'd been married in his twenties but divorced and single ever since.

Since that first day, we've gotten to know Scott pretty well, he's shown Evan how to prune trees and shrubs along with some other work around the house, which my hubby never learned growing up the way he did. He also helped put up some new light fixtures in our master bath and helped replace the garage door opener.

So, he was a gem of a neighbor and I always took some food over, a casserole, or something, as thanks for his help.

As the months went by, there were some aspects of Scott that began to impress me more and more. He was muscular and tanned, lean and handsome. He had an inground pool with a tall privacy fence around it and we often saw him in just a pair of jogging shorts. Yes, he was older, but, well, pretty nice and, well, sexy. And, very polite and considerate.

One evening, I'd mentioned Scott and my husband, Evan, said, "You know, he's often checking you out. You know that don't you?"

"Oh, come on, he's what, about fifty, I never see him with any women. He probably can't even get it up without that stuff on television."

"Oh, hon, just because he's fifty or so, well, trust me, he likes you. Oh, and more than just for your casseroles, babe."

Well, I brushed it off and went on but, actually, in the back of my mind, I was attracted to Scott. His tanned good looks, his lovely demeanor, his strong confidence in who he was. He was not the beer-gut slob sitting around watching monster truck tournaments all weekend, he was a fit, sexy man and he was right next door. Well, look, I'm human. And in those jogging shorts, he looked good.

I even fantasized about taking something over and going through his back gate and catching him naked out by his pool getting an all-over tan and offering him a handjob. Yes, slutty thoughts, yes, they were, like I said, I'm human. Then, I even dreamed about coming in his back gate and pulling off my clothes to straddle him in the bright, warm sun.

I did begin to dress a bit differently when I knew I would see him and started choosing what I wore to be just a bit sexier, a bit more provocative. I began to see for myself that he was looking at me, and looking at me in a way that a man looks at a woman he wants. As each time went by, it seemed like we were each just a tiny bit more open with the flirtatious nature of our banter and actions.

He would now hug me when I brought something over, little pecks to the cheek became pecks to the lips, then to short, soft kisses.

Evan now began teasing me, "You know, you're giving him rises in his shorts, hon, you may have to relieve that for him one day, you know."

"Oh, come on, Evan, you're seeing things where nothing exists."

"Check out his shorts when he's around you, babe," he shot back smiling.

So I did.

Well, I had an admirer, that was certain. His erection, whenever I was around him was rather obvious and, well, I loved it, I was tickled to death. Here I am, now thirty-five, no longer in my teens and twenties and I'm giving hard-ons. Even if he's fifty, well, it still felt good.

Then, one Saturday, I came out to the patio where Evan was sitting with a beer. I brought out some nachos and put them down for him, then went back inside and brought out a foil-covered plate to take next door to thank Scott for helping with the garage door.

I was wearing one of Evan's tank tops which looked like a short sundress when Evan asked me, "Are you taking him dessert, too?"

"No, just dinner, I didn't make anything for dessert."

"Come here, hon," he asked and I stepped over to him and he reached up and pulled my panties to the floor.

"Dessert, all nicely prepared and ready," he said as he patted me on the ass.

"You are kidding, Evan?"

"Hey, he lives by himself, I never see any women going in and out. You know he's hot for you. Well, he needs a treat with the nice dinner you've made," he said and he winked at me.

So, I strode over and knocked on his door. He swung it open, looked at me beaming and said, "Oh, Abby, well, you ... oh, come in, please come in," and he led me back to the kitchen where I put the plate on the stove. I could tell he was looking me over and I loved every minute of it.