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Betty

Betty had more talents than I imagined
“Hi, David. It’s about time you started to mow this place. For the past two weeks, I’ve seen you going in and out of the house with what looked like your instrument cases, so I guess you’ve been playing a lot.”

“What? Lemme shut this darned thing off. I see your mouth moving, but I can’t understand a word you say.” I undid the rope on the “deadman” and let the mower shut itself off. Leaving it in the middle of the yard, I walked over toward Betty’s house. “Now, what were you saying?” I asked.

“I said, it’s about time you mowed this place, but I’ve seen you coming and going with your instruments. I guess you’re playing a lot right now.”

“Well, Summer is the height of the community theater season,” I replied. “So, yeah, I’m pretty busy. Besides, it’s been so God-awful hot the past two weeks, that I just couldn’t get myself out here during the day. I guess it’s driving the other neighbors just about wild.”

“I don’t talk to them much. You know, it’s funny. You live somewhere for fifty years – Jake and I bought this place when it was brand-new, you know – and Frank and Marie moved in at about the same time as we did. But we just never got to be really good friends.”

“How are you doing? I know it can’t have been easy for you, with Jake gone and all.”

Jake had died about five years ago, and Betty was living alone in their house.

“Oh, I manage. The last couple of years he was alive, was really tougher, taking care of him, and changing his diapers and all. I get a little lonely sometimes, though. And last week, when the garage door opener gave out, it would have been nice to have had a man around the place.”

“You should get yourself a boy toy,” I said, laughing.

“Oh my God, NO!,” she laughed. “He’d either be following me around trying to – you know - every five minutes, like a puppy, or think I was all old and dried up, and go running scared every time I walked into the room. Besides, I’ve kinda gotten used to being by myself. I don’t know as I’d want to share my space with anyone any more.”

I thought about saying, “I’d follow you around and try to hump you too,” but instead said, “Well, this lawn isn’t gonna mow itself. I’d better finish, before the weed police come calling.”

“When you get done, why don’t you come next door and jump in the pool? I know you used to use yours a lot before the liner gave out.”

“Thanks. I’d like that. I haven’t been swimming in ages, and it would feel good. I’d have to go in and hose the grass clippings off my legs and ankles, though, before I come over. How about I wait until about six-ish? I have a couple pieces of chicken marinating, and was gonna crack a bottle of Chablis to go with them. I’d be happy to bring them over, and do them up on your grill.”

“Good idea. I’ll call my daughter and tell her to forget dinner tonight.”

“Oh, Betty, don’t do that. I mean, if you have plans, don’t cancel them on my account.”

“Oh, they’re not plans really. She worries about me not cooking. Because it’s so hard to cook for one, you know – anyway, she insists on bringing over food three nights a week. I’ll just tell her I have a gentleman friend coming for dinner. She’s been bugging me to date ever since her father died. So she can just think whatever she wants to.” And then she winked.

“Okay. Well. I’ll finish this mowing, and I’ll see you later.” I gave the mower rope a pull, and It sprang to life.

Now, you have to understand, I’m no Spring chicken. Sixty seven is creeping up on me in just a few months, but Betty – well –

Betty is my mom’s age. Mom would have been eighty six this month, had she lived. I think Betty may be a year or two younger or older, but, let’s face it: after about sixty, a year or two doesn’t make much difference, in either looks or stamina. Hell, for lots of us, five or ten years doesn’t mean much. Oh, a new prescription for stronger blood pressure medicine, and maybe fresh goggles or hearing aids, but that’s about it, really. We get up and look in the mirror, and see our parents staring back at us, and we pluck a few more grey eyebrows, so we won’t look like Andy Rooney, but really, the aging process is so slow and imperceptible that we really don’t see much difference in a year or even a decade. It’s funny, though. I find myself more attracted to sixty, seventy and eighty-somethings than twenty or thirty-year-old kids. And, yes, I realize that things sag. “Can you say ‘gravity’?” he asked in his best imitation Mr Rogers voice. All these thoughts were going through my head as I mindlessly walked around in circles behind the mower, terrorizing the poor little grasshoppers.

And no, Dear Reader, you are not going to be regaled with “huge ropes of thick creamy cum”. Nowadays, mostly what I shoot is thin and watery. But I take a certain satisfaction (no pun intended) in knowing that my days of accidentally impregnating someone are probably over. And, having recently tasted it (don’t we all?) I can definitely say it tastes better (at least, to me) than it used to. There is none of the salty, acid taste it used to have, when it was full of little swimmers.

…………………………………………….

I found myself a little jittery as I opened the gate, and let myself into Betty’s back yard. I feel like a high school kid, on my first date with the Head of the Cheerleader squad, I thought to myself. Then I amended that thought: Well – not exactly. I didn’t expect to get laid when I took her out. That was an extra little surprise. I smiled to myself as I remembered.

“What are you thinking? You look like the cat that ate the canary.” Betty met me at the back door.

“Oh nothing. Just laughing at myself for feeling a little nervous,” I lied.

“Liar.” She said. “Your’e all a-twitter, and so am I. Let’s just try to relax and ignore the elephant in the room until he raises his trunk.” She looked down at my crotch as she said this, and I felt my ears turning red.

Taking the casserole dish from me, she said, “I’ll put this chicken in the fridge until we’re ready to cook it. There are glasses in the cabinet over on the other wall. Get us a couple and pour the wine, while I go get my suit on.” She walked out of the kitchen and disappeared through the dining room.

Her house is the same floor plan as mine. All our houses were built by the same developer, in the early sixties. The front door opens into a small alcove and largish living room. Walking through the living room, one passes through a walk-through dining area. Straight ahead are a pair of patio doors. To the right is the kitchen, a small sewing room, a laundry room and a half bath; to the left are three bedrooms and a full bath. Some people have modified the floor plans slightly over the years with additions and by knocking out walls, but Jake and Betty had made no such major improvements, nor had my house’s previous owners. Jake and Betty had upgraded their kitchen, and added a dishwasher, but the basic floor plan was unchanged, and I felt right at home in my neighbor’s house. I got down two glasses, and was uncorking the first of three bottles I had brought over when she reappeared in the kitchen doorway.

She was wearing a one-piece suit, covered in large multi-colored flowered print. It had ruching across the tummy area, and a squared off neckline. There was a little skirting attached at the hip, that stopped short of looking like it was trying to be a mini skirt. I suppose one would call it a “little old lady suit” but it really was flattering on her. The swell of her breasts filled the neckline without being bulges, and the skirt did a good job of disguising whatever cellulite she might be carrying in her hips.

Handing her a glass, I said, “You look lovely. That suit is very flattering. Here’s to a comfortable evening, despite the elephants.”

She laughed as we clinked glasses, and took a sip. “Thank you. It’s new. Lands End was having an end-of-season sale, so I bought this. One never knows when one will find something that is reasonable for someone over the age of twenty to wear in public.”

“I understand,” I replied. “You’d be surprised how long I search sometimes.”

“Oh?” she asked, arching one eyebrow.

“Well, this is a long story, but one that I have been wanting to tell for quite a while now. Shall we go out onto the patio, and I’ll let you in on a secret or two.”

I opened the patio door, and held the curtain back as she went out. I was tempted to brush her ample ass with my hand as she walked past me, but managed to restrain myself. Soon enough for that, I thought, but felt the elephant’s trunk beginning to stir.

She settled herself into a chaise lounge, and looking up at the sky, said, “Okay. Before you say anything I should tell you this. I have seen fleeting glimpses of a woman over at your house, but there was no strange car in the driveway, and you had not been out all day. I may not be educated. I never had the chance to go to college, as you have, but I’m not stupid, either. And I am certainly not blind, or imagining things. Jake, God rest his soul, did enough of that for both of us.”

“Well, “ I started, “This isn’t easy, as you might guess. But I need to tell someone. And I need to tell someone who will not get upset, or go running from my house, as if I am some kind of leper, or horrible pervert. Yes. I cross dress.”

She opened her mouth to say something, but I held up my hand.

“Don’t stop me - I am going to let it all out , but I can’t do that if you interrupt. A number of years ago, I played Cabaret. As you may or may not know, the orchestra is supposed to be in drag. Actually a bunch of over-the-top drag queens, which I was not. But anyway, I dressed in women’s clothing. I wore a very tasteful blouse and skirt. I was gonna wear pantyhose, but when I tried them on and tried playing my tenor sax with them on, they felt like they were cutting my tummy in half. So I got a garter belt and cut the legs off the pantyhose, and wore them as stockings. I borrowed a bra with pockets and some breast forms from my cousin, who has been cross-dressing for years. And I played the job. At first, it was a hoot, but as the run of the show continued, I found myself looking forward to getting out of my “man clothes” and into the skirt and blouse. This was shortly after E**** A** and I broke up. Dressing like a woman made me feel as if there was a woman in the house with me. I was doing a lot of introspection, trying to figure out what went wrong between EA and me – she was – and is the love of my life, you know – if she asked to come back tomorrow, I’d welcome her with open arms. Anyway – so I was doing all this self-assessment, and I realized that I really am a woman, trapped in a man’s body. But I’m a lesbian. So now, as soon as I get home from work, I change out of whatever I am required to wear, and don female clothing. So, yes, the woman you’ve seen is me.” I took a sip of my wine. “Oh,”I said, “This really is nice.”

“Yes, it is. Fruity, but crisp, with just a hint of citrus,” she replied, and went on, “I don’t mind you wearing women’s clothing. I think it’s kind of cute. But you need to make sure the other neighbors don’t see it. I think they’d be upset. Do you wear makeup, and breast forms and all that at home? Isn’t it hot?”

“Well – since I don’t stare at myself in the mirror, I don’t usually bother with makeup. I like the smell, taste and feel of it though, so I wear a little lipstick. As to breast forms, Unless I am wearing something trashy, I don’t need them. I buy B cup bullet bras, and fill them sufficiently so that I don’t need forms.”

“Well, he’s gone now, so I guess it won’t hurt to let a little of his secret out. Jake used to like to wear my panties. He said it was a turn-on. I was kind of a wild child, and thought a little kink was fun, so we used to dress up before the kids came along. I remember one Halloween Dance we went to where I wore a tuxedo, and Jake wore a gown. After we got home that night, we ………oh maybe I shouldn’t be telling you this. This wine is going straight to my head. I haven’t had anything alchololic to drink since Jake got sick. We used to have a little wine with dinner before, but that was a long time ago.” She smiled then, clearly remembering happier days.

“Betty,” I said, “I like you. And I like that you keep Jake’s memory. I think that is important. We should never forget the people we love, and who love us – and yes, I know he is gone, but you and I both know he loved you, and loved you the day he died. I believe when we die, our feelings are frozen in time. If we love someone, we will always love them, no matter whether we are on this earth or whatever. Anyway, what I was going to say is this, when you love someone, you want that person to be happy. I believe Jake would want you to be happy. So now I think we should cook the chicken, and refill our glasses, and be happy.”

“Darn, you’re good,” she said. “Do you do this to all the women you see?”

“No. I try, but most of them aren’t receptive,” I laughed.

She laughed then, and said, “But you thought I might be? Is that it?”

“There is something about you and your demeanor that excites me,” I replied. “I know there’s a big age difference between us, And I know that you still love Jake dearly, and I wouldn’t want to do anything to come between that, but you really are a very pretty and sexy woman. We’re both single, and adults, and alone. We obviously enjoy each other’s company, at least on some level, and if anything else happens, then so be it. No one else need know. What we do is strictly our business.”

“And if the elephant raises his trunk, we should just go with it. Is that the rest of your statement?”

“Well, it wasn’t, but it could have been,” I replied, grinning.

“Go home,” she said, and my heart sank. I figured I had gone too far, too soon.

“And put on your bra and panties, and get your ass back here as fast as you can. Do you have a ladies swimsuit? You might need it. In fact, put that on, and just bring the rest with you. With any luck at all, the neighbors across the street will see you heading this way in it.”

“WHAT?” I asked. I was stunned. And I was a little scared that she was going to bust my cover in the neighborhood.

“Did I stutter?” she asked. “Just do it. I know what I am doing, even if you do not. And heels. Don’t forget to wear heels.”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

I opened the front door, and stuck my head out, looking across the street, to see if the neighbors front curtain was open. Fortunately, it was not. I grabbed my duffel of spare clothing and makeup, and made a mad dash for Betty's’ side gate. Well, “mad dash” hardly describes it. I am fairly well practiced in wearing heels, but that has always been in the house, on a hard floor, or a thin carpet. Walking, or trying to run, I should say, on uneven ground was an absolute disaster. I got about three paces off the front porch before I fell the first time. “Fuck!” I said, as my knee landed on a root. On my hands and knees now, I looked across the street at the neighbor’s house, The front curtains were wide open. “Shit” I said, as I ungracefully got back on my feet. Then I thought fuck it. They know everything, now. So I gingerly picked my way across the rest of the front yard. It seemed like miles, even though it was only about a hundred feet. I tripped on another root under the dogwood tree and fell again, skinning my right knee on the paver stone. Jesus! I thought. I am about as graceful as a gazelle. But one with a broken leg.

As I opened the gate, I heard voices laughing. “He was so cute!” a female voice said. “He was trying to be quick, and made a comp-LETE ass of himself. Too bad the steer didn’t know.”

“Well, limp-wristed cowboys may be your idea of fun, but I prefer real men who aren’t afraid to be women.” I heard Betty say.

I stepped around the corner to see her conversing with Grace, the neighbor from across the street.

“Oh, Hi, David, meet Grace; Grace, David. She was just telling me about the rodeo she and Tom went to this afternoon. They just got home. “

Grace looked me up and down. Her eyes paused when she looked at my boobs, concealed behind the swimsuit top, but they really stopped down at my three inch heels. She stared at me , her mouth open in a little O. “Well, speaking of cute,” she said, “the heels are lovely with your banged-up tomboy knee.”

“I just did that, trying to dash over here, before you or — what was your husband’s name? Tom? — saw me.”

“Oh, Lord,” she replied, laughing, “It’s much too late for that. We’ve seen you plenty of times. I like the new dress you got last Spring – the multi-colored one that you wear over the tan shell. You really should pay more attention to your blinds if you want to keep anything secret, you know.”

I was a little taken aback by this sudden revelation, and stood there, staring.

“Cat got your tongue?” Betty asked, laughing. She stood up then, saying, “It’s all right. Your little kinky secret is safe with us. And that really is a nasty-looking scrape you have on your knee. I’m going to go in the house and get something to put on it. You and Grace can entertain yourselves for a few minutes, but no elephants.”

Grace laughed, and said, “Betty told me about the elephant in the room between you two. I think it is cute, the way you older generation go on, with your euphemisms, and innuendo. You’re just like my parents. They talk all around the subject, but never say straight out what they mean.”

While she was talking, I looked carefully at Grace. From the tiny crows feet at the corners of her eye, and the smile lines around her mouth, I judged her to be about forty or so. I noticed, too, her breasts appeared to be about a B or C cup, and didn’t seem to be sagging any. Of course, I reminded myself, that could be aided with the proper sized undergarments. I’d like to take them off, and see if the undergarments are really necessary, I thought. I wonder how big her nipples are.

“And quit staring at my tits, or the elephant WILL be a problem.”

I suddenly snapped back to reality.

“I… um… I was just thinking…”

“That you’d like to know if I need this bra to hold up my tits? Or how big my nipples are?” she interrupted, and went on, “well the answers are ‘No’, and ‘That’s a secret I’m not willing to share.’ We just met, and you don’t know me that well.”

Betty reappeared in the doorway, clutching a small bottle of iodine and a box of band aids. “I heard that,” she said. “Are you trying to get into her pants, too? You ARE a roué, aren’t you? Or is being exposed as a lady just turning you on?” She sat back down on the edge of her chaise. “Come here, and prop your leg up. Let’s have a look at that knee.”

The swim suit I was wearing was a two-piece from the same sale as Betty’s. It consisted of a red hip-length top, with drawstrings on the sides, that could be pulled up to make it waist length, or loosened to cover the hips entirely. The bottom was a black pair of shorts, with an integral panty and tummy control liner. Still wearing the heels, I lifted my leg, and placed my foot on the edge of the chaise, between her knees. I was fairly certain that everything was well-tucked in, and even with the gap in the leg of the shorts, all she’d see would be the panty liner.

She glanced up as I raised my leg, and said, “You balance quite well on one foot, for someone who doesn’t wear heels all the time. I guess you’ve had lots of practice rattling around in the big house by yourself. This is going to sting.”

“Can you see the elephant?” Grace giggled.

“No, just a camel’s toe,” Betty replied, smiling. “Look for yourself.” She leaned over to her side, allowing Grace to place her head next to hers.

“Oh my God!” Grace exclaimed, laughing. “You DO have camel toe!” She paused a bit, thinking, as Betty put a band aid over the now disinfected wound, then said, “How does that work? I mean, I assume you have the usual accoutrements down there, and …”

I saw my chance to get back at her a little for not telling me about her nipples, and interrupted her. “That’s my little secret. You don’t know me well enough. Yet.”

“Touché,” she replied.

“Last one in’s a rotten egg!” Betty said, suddenly jumping up and running to the pool’s edge. She paused for an instant, then sprang from the edge and did a reverse tuck into the water.

The splash barely dampened the concrete outside the coping. Grace and I stood, our mouths open, gaping at each other.

“Jesus,” I said, softly. “That was a Hell of a dive.”

“Rotten egg!” Grace shouted, as she pushed me sideways, and jumped into the pool.

Being off balance, and still wearing the heels, I resigned myself. I slowly removed them, and walked to the edge, and dove in. When I surfaced, Betty and Grace were both sitting on the steps in the shallow end. Grace was saying, “That was incredible, Betty.”

“I didn’t know if I could still do that. I felt a little stiff. Was it really that good?”

“You just barely made a splash, “I joined in. “I had no idea you were a swimmer.”

“Well, after high school, I did a little competition,” Betty said. “But then the war came along, and Jake and I got married, and I got pregnant before he shipped out to Europe, so that kind of ended my serious swimming days. I haven’t tried that dive in at least ten years.”

“Well, you could have fooled us,”Grace said. “Why don’t you get into the Senior Olympics?”

“Oh, Goodness. I don’t have the drive to do all that practicing. No, I’ll just enjoy myself, and occasionally surprise a neighbor or two.”

“Well, I’d love to stay and chat with you guys, but I have to get home and make sure Tom doesn’t drink all the beer before I get some food in him,” Grace said, as she climbed out of the pool. “Betty,” she went on as she threw a towel across her shoulders, “Are we still on for next Friday?”

“Sure,” Betty said. “I’ll throw a few things in the picnic basket, and come over to your house, since you’re driving.”

“Okay. See you about ten, then. And you, David, I will call on Tuesday evening. I’ve noticed that’s the evening you are usually home, and Tom is off with his bowling league. We need to talk. Meanwhile, pull your blinds down.” Then she winked, and turned toward the gate.

“About that elephant,” Betty said, as she reached over under the water and placed her hand on my crotch. “How DO you do that camel toe, anyway?”

“Well, if you keep your hand there, I will have a very difficult time showing you,” I replied, smiling. “I push my left nut up into the body cavity, and pull my cock down over it, between my legs. The right one hangs down, and makes the other half of the toe.”

“Cute,” she replied. “And very convincing. I mean, if I didn’t know, I wouldn’t have known. Actually, you make a very pretty woman. Why don’t you just go out like that? You could get away with it. Who would know?”

“Everybody would as soon as I opened my mouth,” I replied. “And in this county, that could be dangerous to my health, let alone my job.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about the job if I were you. Those people already know you, and know the person, but you’re probably right about strangers and your safety. This county can be pretty bad that way. You know I guess, the Klan is still pretty active around here, even though they no longer stand on the corner of Main Street in their sheets.”

“Well, I didn’t know that, but I assumed it. I can remember the days, not too long ago when they did a lot of demonstrating and marching. And having worked for the government for eleven years, I know that a lot of the same families are still around. That is a big reason I don’t go flaunting myself in public.”

“Well, it feels like there’s something flaunting a little bit right now,” Betty said, with a giggle. She gripped my hardening member .through the swimsuit. “I think I’d like another sip of my wine. Would you mind being a dear, and getting out of the pool and bringing it over?”

As I climbed up the ladder, to get our drinks, she gave a low wolf whistle.

“Nice ass,” she said. “Round and firm. Is it padded, or is that really you?”

“ A little of each,” I replied. “Because I have no hips, I have to wear hip pads, and four pad panties are all I own. But I think I have a pretty good ass anyway,” I added quickly.

“Oh, it doesn’t matter,” she laughed. “Jake was a flat-assed white boy. I kinda got used to that.”

I didn’t know why, but I bristled a little at her remark. I turned to her and said, “I don’t know if this is going to work. As I said before, I don’t want to come between you and your memory of Jake, ‘cause I know you two were very much in love, but I don’t think I can deal with being compared to him.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have said that - well not that way, anyway, but it’s so hard trying not to compare. Please forgive me, and I’ll try not to let it happen again,” she replied, contritely.

“Well, I’m sorry, too,” I said. “I didn’t mean to be so thin-skinned. I know you loved him. And I know it’s been many years since you looked at anyone else without having him to compare to, so it’s natural to do that. I shouldn’t be so self-centered.”

“Well, we are both feeling our way, in a manner of speaking, so get over here with those wine glasses, so I can feel my way further,” she said, and grinned.

“Why do I think we may not get around to grilling the chicken for a while?” I asked.

“Are you hungry? We DO have all evening, you know. Actually, we have as much time as we want, since you do live next door, and neither of us has to go to work. On second thought, there’s a little work I want to do. Sit on the edge of the pool up out of the water, and slide that suit and whatever panties you are wearing under it down out of the way.”

I did as I was told, and my cock sprang free. Being released from the constraint of the suit, it immediately began to swell. She grasped it in her hand and slowly started pumping it up and down. I could feel the foreskin sliding over the sensitive edge of my glans, and I could feel it becoming harder as the blood engorged it. I set the drinks down on the cement, and placed my hands behind me, half reclining and thrusting my hips a little further forward toward her.

Her lips came down over the head then, and I felt the warmth of her mouth. It sent an electric shock up my spine, and I could feel my pelvic muscle involuntarily contract, making my cock even harder.

“Um-m-m,” she said, as she slid her mouth down and took me into her throat.

I could feel the back of her throat open and it felt as if I was going into an inner passage, even hotter than her mouth, and tighter. It squeezed around me, and seemed to pulsate. Then she withdrew, and I could feel the cool air rushing across my swollen head.

“Oh my God.” she said . “It has been years since I have had a cock down my throat like that. I doubt you can understand this, but it sends messages straight to my pussy, almost as if there is a direct connection from my throat. Let’s go indoors, where we can continue this, before one or both of us get concrete rash. The drinks can wait. I need to be filled. Now.”

… to be continued ….

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