Despite her tiredness, not quite exhaustion, Abigail sprung out of bed hours before she’d intended on waking. Gloriously nude, the nubile blond cavorted about all four rooms of her new abode, humming to herself and admiring her sexy curves in the mirrors she hung. A quick breakfast of cold pizza, the only food in her otherwise barren refrigerator, washed down with wine, was spent on her patio, a little slab of concrete off the back of the garage that overlooked the spacious backyard. The plethora of mature trees blocked her view from potentially nosy, voyeuristic neighbors.
However, when Gene emerged from the far side of the duplex, walking around his garage, carrying armfuls of lawn equipment, she bolted back inside, packing over the possibility of her new neighbor getting a surprise thrill.
“Next time, dumb-ass, at least wear a robe or something!”
Rather than dwell on her nudity almost being discovered, Abigail set about the onerous task of unpacking. Time became paradoxical, seeming to stand still but somehow passing quickly as she toiled. The first item she lovingly unpacked was her stereo. Outdated, badly needing a good cleaning, and with one of the speaker grill’s covering cloth badly torn, it was her prized possession. Lacking furniture other than a single bed, a few chairs, and a tiny dinette set, a convenient box, a sparkly shawl thrown over it, became the stereo stand.
That morning, she only paused her work when the storage container company came to pick up the moving bin. Abby threw on a long, white, navy blue sleeved, raglan shirt to retrieve her lock and sign the paperwork. It wasn’t until they’d loaded the huge, metal box onto a flatbed and left that Abigail realized that half of her nude butt was exposed. That definitely explained the way they were staring at her.
With the stereo blaring, she danced around her half of the duplex, slowly transforming the space into a home. Still dressed, she decided that it was a good time to hang the curtains. Standing on a chair, balancing precariously, her hands were over her head in an attempt to lock the curtain rods in place when she saw Gene exit his half and turn toward hers, walking over.
When she realized that her pussy was exposed, viewable by the entire block, Abigail dropped her arms, the curtain rods falling to the floor with a clattering clang. That drew Gene’s eyes and attention, and his gaze sharply veered toward Abby’s big, bay window. Mid-century architecture had a floor-to-ceiling window fetish. Blushing and trying to smile, she sheepishly waved at her neighbor. He smiled, making her wonder if he’d seen her promised land, and shuffled to her door.
“Come on in, Gene, the door’s open.” He entered.
“Abs,” he began, already finding a name for her. “I wanted to s…”
“Say that my music’s too loud?” the blond cut him off. “I’m so sorry. I’ll turn it down.”
She jumped off the chair, her brief descent making the rounded hem of her raglan fly up, and jogged over to the stereo, turning the volume down from ungodly loud to ear-splitting.
“No,” he corrected. “The music’s fine. I can’t hear a single thing on my side. I was going to SEE if you wanted a beer. I’m done with the yard work and don’t want to crack open a tall cold one alone.”
“I’d love a beer, thank you.”
“At least your music is better than my last neighbor’s. She listened to some horrible crap that sounded like road work, and the singer just mumbled, incoherently, as if he had a sore throat.”
“Thrash metal! Not my thing.”
“Is that what it’s called? I thought it was some form of torture—worse than hair metal!”
They shared a beer, with Abigail constantly reminding herself to keep her legs together. She found Gene to be witty and fun, and, to their mutual delight, they discovered that they shared some common interests, mainly online gaming. The bottles drained, Gene left, the both of them promising to hang out, together, sometime very soon.
“Too bad he's my neighbor and has a girlfriend, or I’d see where this leads,” she muttered.
Finally getting to her clothes, Abigail was only mildly surprised to discover a hole in the back of her closet. About the size of a fist, something, at one point in the duplex’s history, had crushed the drywall, leaving a hole with light streaming through it. Abigail pressed her eye to the gaping void and saw Gene’s bedroom, somewhat messy, with a limited field of view. Her neighbor’s closet door was open, and she could see his bed against the far wall, clothes strewn about here and there, and a mountain of beer bottles and fast-food boxes off to one side. An ugly, pink, fur pillow was on his bed, very unmanly.
That reminded her that she wanted to move the bed to the far wall. After a mental debate, weighing the virtues of eavesdropping against being eavesdropped, she scooted the bed across the deep pile carpet, situating it opposite the closet, beneath the lone window. She’d put her computer desk against the common wall, Abigail decided; she just needed to purchase one.
· · ─────── ·· ─────── · ·
For the first time in months, Gene woke up horny. Before he was even aware of his surroundings, his hand gripped his hard shaft and began stroking the morning wood. As his hand worked his cock, his mind was filled with visions of his new neighbor. He jacked off to the vision of her large, pert boobs bouncing in her tank top, her nipples poking out, occasionally.
Gene’s pace quickened as the image of her scandalously short cutoffs filled his mind’s eye. Fantasizing about her moaning and talking dirty, begging for his cock, while he spanked that perfectly-rounded ass, he shot geysers of cum all over his stomach, continuing his blurred stroking until he could barely breathe, only gasp for air as the waves of pleasure shot through him.
After a quick shower, he put on his manual labor clothes, gathered his landscaping implements from the garage, and headed out back to clean and beautify the yard. Gene had an arrangement with the landlord that he’d maintain the property in exchange for a fair reduction in rent. However, he truly enjoyed doing the landscaping, so he felt that it was the perfect situation.
As he rounded the outside corner of his section, coming into the backyard from around the garage, Gene nearly dropped his gardening tools. Abby was outside, on her patio, sitting on a cardboard box with a slice of pizza in one hand and a plastic cup in the other. That wasn’t what shocked him. She was completely nude.
Startled and unsure of how to act, Gene stopped in his tracks and stepped backward, seeking the cover of his garage. With the rakes, shovels, and other cumbersome items still bundled in his arms, he crept to the corner and peered around, spying on his naked, blond neighbor. Thankful that he’d just drained the beast, he still felt his cock twitch at the sight of her.
Her tits, well over a cup size larger than his girlfriend’s, were perfect. They were plump, round, and full, and her pink nipples looked edible. Her lithe back, accentuated by the way she was hunched slightly forward, was smooth and unblemished, giving way to rounded hips and long, shapely legs. Her body language was so casual as if she were fully clothed and just relaxing, that Gene could only stare in lusty desire.
Stomping his feet and clearing his throat to announce his arrival, the fitness trainer counted to five, then walked into the backyard as if he were oblivious to the nude, blond sexpot lounging yards away. He shifted his yard implements for balance, and, when he looked back up, he was treated to a quick glimpse of her nude butt as she fled back inside.
Feeling guilty over spying, the yard received extra love that morning. Gene mentally admonished himself for being such a pervert and vowed to apologize. However, he had to wait until his erection subsided, and that took hours as he couldn’t get the vision of her flesh, so lust-inducing, perfect, and beautiful, out of his mind. Still, though, while Sirena was hot, there was something about Abby, whose name he’d already shortened to “Abs,” that just excited him.
When he’d first moved in, a few years ago, a woman named Jessica lived on the other side with her husband, Ron. In her late thirties, without children, she was, Gene thought, incredibly sexy. She’d get home from work, then lay out in the sun on the patio, and Gene would always find some excuse to be outside, so he could check out the way she rocked a bikini.
Karen, the next tenant, was just a vile person. She’d always be complaining about something, virtue-signaling just to have something to complain about. While she was attractive on the surface, Gene loathed her.
After hours of deliberation, Gene decided that it was time to apologize. He had the idea in his head that if he mentioned that it didn’t bother him, she might continue her naturist habits. He hoped so. Running his fingers through his hair and putting on a gym shirt that had received a few compliments from other women, he walked the short distance from his front door toward her, but stopped in his tracks, once more.
The thin bedsheets had been pulled from the huge, multipaned window, and Abigail was wearing only a long-sleeved T-shirt, hanging the curtains. Her pussy was openly displayed, as well as her long, shapely legs.
Shrugging, the man walked over, anyway, wishing Sirena was as free and casual about her body. Never had he wanted somebody as much as Abby. To him, Abs was a purely sexual woman. This wasn’t true, and he knew it, but his lust for her, being new, sexy, and exciting, dominated his forebrain.
Just when the curtains seemed to be in place, they fell, revealing a surprised-looking neighbor, almost falling off the chair she perched upon, scowling at the window and pulling the hem of her shirt down.
He saw her wave at him, timidly, and call out that the door was unlocked. He entered, noting that her side still had that ugly, original carpeting.
He was determined to say, “I want to say how sorry I am for spying on you, this morning. Please, forgive me.” He’d plead his case, reinforce the fact that he was a leering, stalking pervert, and, hopefully, all would be well.
He’d only gotten the first, few syllables out, before she interrupted him, cutting off both his speech and line of thought. It wasn’t so much her sexy, sultry voice as it was the fact that he could see the dark circles of her nipples beneath the shirt, and he knew that she had nothing else on under just that single shirt. It drove him to horny madness, as if she were intentionally teasing him.
Instead of confessing his creepy sins, Gene offered her a beer and pretended that he hadn’t been drooling over her amazing figure, her swollen pubic mound with his luscious, dark pink lips, or even leering at her nipples, so delightful in the flesh and even more enticing poking through her shirt. Like a nerdy idiot, he went on and on about work and how he enjoyed helping people get into shape, even changing the topic to his online games, thinking that it was somehow less demeaning to be a gamer.
