Carole managed to avoid her next-door neighbour for the next few days. She kept an eye out for him and only went outside when he wasn't around. She wasn't working today and was home alone.

The heatwave was mostly over, and though it was still warm, it wasn't uncomfortable like it had been. Fresh from the shower Carole stood in her bedroom wearing just a pair of light gray sweatpants. She bent over, throwing her dark red wavy hair forward and blowing it dry with the hairdryer. Somewhere off in the distance, she heard a sound. But it didn't register. She carried on drying and the sound got louder. At last, something clicked.

"Shit," she swore to herself, switching off the hairdryer and throwing it on the bed, "I haven't put the bins out.

Carole rushed downstairs. Pulling an old white T-shirt on over her head as she went. Through the kitchen, and out the back door. Grabbing the wheelie bin as she went. Carole dragged it down the narrow alley between her house and the neighbours, and out onto the street.

"Haha, come on love, hurry up," the bin men jeered and laughed at her as she rushed to catch them. The late morning sun shone down the length of the street and onto her back and left-hand side.

"That's alright love, I got it." one of them said, approaching her with a grin, she thought she noticed him glance at her chest as he took the bin from her.

"Thank you," she replied, feeling it would be rude to just walk away. She waited as he took her bin to the lorry, attached it to the mechanism, and emptied it.

She watched as her bin rose into the air. Her messy half-dried mass of red hair blew over her face in the breeze. She raised her arms, sinking her fingers into the soft waves and pulling them back out of the way. Then she looked at the bin men. They were both watching her and looked away when she noticed them.

Carole recognised that look and was reminded of what had happened at the weekend. She felt a powerful urge suddenly rush through her body at the thought of the young delivery man. There was a long, slow throb between her thighs, and her nipples began to harden.

She looked down at her own chest. The sun shone through the side of her T-shirt making a clear silhouette of her large, bra-free, breasts. Her suddenly tingling nipples poked through the thin cotton of the tired old T-shirt.

Her first instinct was to wrap her arms around her chest to hide them. But as her arms moved, she felt the tingle of nervous excitement in her tummy at the thought of the men watching her. So instead, she dropped her arms to her sides and slipped her hands into the pockets of her baggy sweatpants, pulling them dangerously low on her hips and exposing a little bit of her lower belly.

As the refuse collector walked toward her with her bin in tow. Carole closed her eyes as if enjoying the morning sun. Giving the stranger ample opportunity to ogle her as he approached.

The stranger watched intently as her soft breasts moved. Silhouetted and unhindered as they were beneath the thin cotton T-shirt. She took a deep breath and the short hem lifted. Exposing her little round potbelly. Her deep dark belly button. And the very low waistband of her jog pants.

"Thank you so much," Carole said as the man returned her bin.

"You're welcome love," he grinned "Anytime."

Carole turned to head back to her house. Feeling naughty and excited. But stopped suddenly. Stood by her gate, waiting for her, was Phil, the old man from next door.

He was a tall slender old man. With thin white hair and long, suntanned, sinewy limbs. Carole didn't know exactly how old he was but, thought he must be going on seventy.

He wore shorts, sandals, socks, and a polo shirt, all of which were, of course, immaculate. As was his house and garden, there wasn't a blade of grass out of place. He kept himself fit and active by never stopping doing stuff.

He watched Carole as she turned. The grin on his face told her he knew exactly what she had just been doing. It was the same grin he had the last time she saw him. Watching her in the alleyway between their houses.

"Hello Carole," he greeted her as her face flushed bright red with embarrassment. Not just because of what he had just caught her teasing the binmen. But also because of what he saw her doing the last time. In fact, that was how he knew what was going on with the binmen.

"Hi," she answered in a timid whisper.

"Here, let me help you with that," he insisted as she approached her front gate. He took the bin handle from her with one hand. While holding the gate open for her with the other.

She led the way down the narrow alley beside her house. Her embarrassment grew as they walked by his window. She remembered the grin he had worn as he watched her from there.

Carole glanced back at him and immediately wished she hadn't. He was watching her round bottom wriggle. The loose jog pants hung dangerously low on her wide hips. He looked up at her when she looked back. With not a hint that he had been doing anything he shouldn't.

"Any chance of a brew?" he asked as he followed her into the back garden.

"Um, yeah, sure," Carole answered, longing to say no fuck off, but she just didn't have it in her. Besides, that naughty, excited tingle in her belly and between her thighs hadn't gone away.

"Really?" Carole asked herself as they walked," The old guy next door?" She couldn't believe his obvious leching was turning her on. She wondered if he had been doing it all along, and that was why he was so friendly. You see, Carole was really a bit of a pushover.

They went into the small dining kitchen. Phil sat at the table and watched as Carole made him a cup of tea, and a coffee for herself.

"How have you been?" he asked, "I haven't seen you for a few days." He suspected she had been avoiding him.

"I'm okay," she answered, finding it hard to concentrate. Her mind was racing, trying to figure out what was going on. Phil had popped around for a brew plenty of times before of course, especially since her divorce. But this time it felt different, more tense somehow. Like something major was about to happen. There was a long, awkward silence.

"How have you been?" Carole asked, stirring milk into her coffee.

"Oh, fine, fine," he answered "Are the boys out?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied, "both at work today." She pressed the teabag against the side of the cup.

"And you, a day off? When are you at work next?" He continued.

"Tomorrow," she answered, "I am in for a few days then." Carole stirred milk into the old man's tea. There was another long silence as the spoon made little tink-tink noises. Carole waited. She was sure the old man had something on his mind, and she was worried that she may be right about what it was.

"I won't beat around the bush, Carole," the old man suddenly burst out.

"I am a very direct man, always have been. I, I haven't been able to get you out of my mind since Saturday."

Carole froze, the spoon falling silent. She stood at the counter with her back to the elderly neighbour. There it was, exactly what she had feared, direct is right, straight to the fucking point. She didn't move but stood waiting to see where he was going with this.

"I have thought long and hard about how a woman like you would get into such a," he cleared his throat, " situation. And, well, it seemed to me, that man must have started it, I just can't imagine you doing so."

Carole placed the spoon, and then both hands on the counter to steady herself. She was trembling with nerves, longing for the ground to open and swallow her, anything to avoid this awkward conversation.

"But this morning," the old man continued, "I watched you with those bin-men, and you were... showing off."

Carole jumped as the chair behind her made a loud scraping sound on the tile floor. The old man got to his feet, but she didn't, no, couldn't move.

"I see now, that you want the attention, you crave the attention," he approached her quietly. She leaned on the worktop, petrified her heart racing.

"You long to be noticed, wanted, to be desired, touched."

Carole was panting softly, her body quivering as she tried and tried to move. Just to get away. Listening in horror as the elderly neighbour described her symptoms perfectly. Almost as if she had told him her deepest secrets herself.

She flinched suddenly as his hand came to rest on the deep curve of her waist. Right in the gap between her T-shirt and baggy pants. His fingers were cold against the soft warmth of her pale skin.

"It's okay," he whispered into her ear. The long slender fingers of his other hand eased her wavy auburn hair back off her shoulder.

"I think I understand. My wife had the same needs. I can feel you trembling. Is that with fear or excitement? I think it's the latter."

He moved close, pressing himself into her soft voluptuous body, and he placed his lips tenderly against her smooth warm neck.

A long, slow, delicious shiver ran through Carole's body. The old man kissed her gently, as his fingers slid from her hair and down her back to hold her waist together with his other hand.

"P-please Phil," Carole stammered as the old man's lips moved up and down her neck and collarbone, kissing and nuzzling her, "Please don't, we, we shouldn't." Carole stammered, though, at that moment, she couldn't think of any reason why they shouldn't.

"I don't think you mean that. Do you really want me to stop?" He continued. Carole tried to speak. Her head screamed that this was all wrong. But he was right. She longed for the attention. He wanted her and she couldn't say no.

"I can hear you panting. I feel your body trembling. It is something I haven't felt for years. It was a passion of mine back then, and my wife's. We had an understanding." Cool hands held her waist gently, caressing her softly under her T-shirt.

"She craved the attention as well, and I was happy to oblige, as long as I was in control. I thought that had all ended for me, but now." Suddenly the old man's hands began to move up inside Carole's T-shirt, quickly taking hold of her large, soft, warm breasts, lifting and caressing them.

His fingers closed on them, pressing deep into the yielding flesh as his mouth opened to devour her neck. With a whimper, Carole made a halfhearted attempt to shrug him off. But her head just rolled to one side, exposing more of her smooth, pale neck and shoulder to him.

"Please," Carole begged in a pathetic whimper, "Please…"

"Shhhhh," the old man hissed, "it's okay, just relax." His fingers squeezed her soft flesh. Finding the firm sensitive nipples and teasing them to full erection. Before pinching them hard and pulling. Lifting her T-shirt. Hoisting her breasts by the firm dark mounds. Stretching the soft skin of her heavy orbs.

"Aaah…" Carole gasped, gripping the counter tighter, her legs wobbling a little, as her nipples sent an electric shock of pleasure and desire straight to her pussy.

"Please Phil, aaah…" Carole made one last attempt at not giving in to her inappropriate desire, "Don't make me."

"Make you?" he asked in a strong, commanding voice, so unlike the sweet old man, she knew that it made Carole flinch.

"I will HELP you. Help you tear down those walls you have created. Walls of propriety. Walls that have kept you from your true desires. Your true passions. You are a beautiful, sensual, sexual woman. You deserve to be worshiped!"

As he spoke. He moved one hand from her breast, down over her tummy. He slipped it inside her loose pants. Finding no underwear to block his access. He pushed it between her thighs. He felt her quiver in his arms as his fingertips brushed over her delicate folds.

"Aaah… aaah…" Carole whimpered, bending forward over the counter, squeezing her legs together involuntarily on his hand. With her bent over the kitchen counter like that. He couldn't resist and quickly gripped the waistband of her sweatpants in both hands, tugging them down, exposing her firm round bottom in one quick motion.

"Magnificent," he whispered in admiration, moving back slightly to get a good look. Before Carole lifted herself off the counter and turned to face him. Her hands clamped together over her groin. Her arms squashed her breasts together. The large, stiff, dark nipples thrust through the thin white T-shirt.

Carole stood with her pants around her ankles, looking up at the elderly neighbour. Phil moved close again, taking one nipple between his thumb and forefinger, squeezing it, pinching it, rolling it through the thin cotton. Carole looked up at him, a look of desperate, conflicted longing on her face, but passion in her big soft green eyes.

Phil leaned closer, bending down to place his white-bearded lips against hers. His mouth moved, coaxing a kiss from her as his fingers teased her nipple. Slowly, she responded.

Her mouth opened for him, and their tongues twisted together in a long, passionate kiss. His free hand took hold of her wrist and eased one hand out of the way. Then he did the same with her other hand. Before sinking his fingertips into the soft warm mound of hair between her thighs.

He pulled his mouth from hers and looked at her, an intense, almost angry look on his face. Carole reacted by instinct and, lifting her feet from the clothing on the floor, she opened her legs for him.

"Good girl," Phil whispered and slid his middle finger gently over her soft delicate wet folds.

"Now, do you want me to continue?" the old man asked.

"Aaahh…" Carole moaned as he caressed her, "Ye, yes." she stammered.

"Are you sure?" he pressed, "Just say the word, and I will go and we can pretend none of this ever happened."

"No," Carole gasped, "P, please, don't stop." As she spoke. The old man's fingers eased her open. Stroking and caressing their way into her warm wet pussy. His other hand moved to her lower back, holding her as he caressed her. She whimpered as he touched her, and he watched Carole's hips as they trembled and quivered at his touch.

"Take off your top," he said. In a very matter-of-fact way, and without a second thought now. Carole obeyed, crossing her arms over her breasts to grip the hem, before she lifted her T-shirt off over her head as the loose curls of her wavy, auburn hair fell back onto her shoulders. Phil stared in awe at her breasts, watching them bounce and sway their way back to where they hung naturally.

"Magnificent," Phil whispered again, almost to himself. Carole placed her hands behind her back. Gripping the countertop and pushing her hips forward a little, and herself onto his hand.

"mmm, yes, your body remembers what to do, even if your mind has forgotten," Phil said, pushing the palm of his hand against her clit and a long finger deep inside her.

Carole gasped and started squirming on his hand, rubbing herself hungrily against him. She watched his face as he watched her body squirm and quiver. A strange half-smile on his lips as he watched his MILF neighbour fucking herself.

His eyes roamed up and down her curvy body. He gazed in awe at her large globes as they rose and fell with her heavy breathing, swaying as she squirmed. He studied her little potbelly as it jiggled and her thick thighs clenched in passion.

Phil looked into her eyes, suddenly realising she was watching him. He smiled at her, a naughty glint in his eye again, and quickly pulled his hand from behind her back, raised it, and brought it back down with a glancing blow on her big dark nipple.

"Aaargh," Carole screamed, and then quickly moaned as the sudden shock to her soft flesh sent a lightning bolt of stinging pleasure to earth between her legs.

"Aaaahhh fuck…. Mmmmmm." she gasped, her body convulsing as she watched her smacked tit quiver back into shape.

"Aaahh… oh my gooo…" she gasped again as he slapped her other breast. Her hips squirmed and wriggled. Grinding herself harder and harder against the old man's hand. Her big dark nipples stood hard as bullets. Tingling and pulsing. She moaned loudly as her orgasm grew.

"Aaahh, aaah, aaarghh, yes, Yes," She squealed as the old man from next door stood beside her, fingered her, and slapped her big soft tits again and again. They tingled and hurt like nothing she had ever felt before. Even the pain felt pleasurable, like when you pull a splinter from your skin.

Carole gripped the kitchen counter. Her body convulsed as her pussy clenched on his fingers. She moaned loudly as her orgasm flooded through every nerve and sinew.

Before the waves of her pleasure had passed. Phil dropped to his knees before her and pushed his face between her thick thighs. Quickly taking her soft wet folds into his mouth and sucking them, then licking her, drinking her orgasm hungrily.

Her vagina ached, longing to be filled. Her orgasm had only succeeded in getting her started. She took hold of his arm and pulled Phil to his feet. Her fingers grabbed at the waist of his shorts, unfastening them almost in a panic.

"No," Phil said in a calm, resigned voice and placed a hand on hers, pushing them away.

"I know you want a cock inside you now. My wife could only take so much before she needed to be fucked. But I can't right now, I'm sorry."

Carole couldn't believe what she was hearing. She stared up at him open-mouthed, panting and trembling with passion. Her body quivering, her hot pink tits tingling and her pussy aching.

"Oh, god, I'm so sorry, it was wrong of me to get you into this state when I can't…" he paused, and suddenly she understood.

"You can't, at all?" she asked breathlessly.

"Not without some help. But I want to, oh god, do I want to." He answered.

"And can you get some, help?" Carole asked as she came slowly back down to earth, her breathing getting back to normal, her electrified body calming.

"Come round Saturday evening, I will make it up to you, I promise." The old man looked Carole in the eye expectantly, "Say you will?"

"Okay," she agreed, far more easily and quickly than either of them expected, "what time?"

Phil stepped close to her, sinking his fingers into her soft thick hair, and pressed his lips against hers. She could taste herself on them. It tasted like sex. She hadn't had that flavour for years and now she had it from two different men in one week.

"I'll see you at nine," he said, then turned and left via the wide-open back door, stopping at the corner of the house for a moment to look back in the window at his naked neighbour.

Carole stood, leaning back against the counter in her kitchen for a moment. She looked down at the soft, full, curves of her body. She could still feel his fingers inside her, and her breasts glowed pink and warm from their beating. She tried to process what the fuck had just happened.

Half an hour ago, she was in her bedroom drying her hair. Now she was stood naked, and so, so horny, after letting the neighbour bring her to orgasm in her own kitchen.

She looked at her clothes thrown on the floor, then lifted her eyes and looked out of the windows and the open back door at the neighbourhood houses that backed onto and overlooked hers. It didn't even occur to her that anyone in ten households could see her right now.

"What the fuck are you doing, Carole?" she asked herself. Thinking about the safe little life she had led for over twenty years. Wondering what had happened, what had changed?

Men had never looked at her like this when she was married, had they? She thought about Phil, did he really expect her to just turn up on his doorstep? For casual sex? What did he think she was?

"No fuckin way," she said to herself, picked up her clothes, and got on with her day, trying her best to forget how horny she now felt. And to convince herself that she wouldn't be seeing Phil on Saturday.