Covet Thy Neighbor's Son Ch. 01

The following story is co-written by me and the hugely talented Black Velvet. She took hold of the fantasy and ran with it, helping to bring part one to an explosive conclusion. I look forward to working with her on Part Two.

*

Brandon was struggling with preparation for his math paper when mention of his name floated up from downstairs.

"No, I'm sorry, he's too busy with studying right now. You'll have to find someone else." His mother's voice was at its most austere. He heard the front door closing and went to investigate.

"Mom, who was that? What did they want?"

"It was nothing, dear. Get back to your books."

Now he had to know. "Mom, tell me. Was it about work? Paid work?" He'd spent enough time putting ads in local mailboxes to expect some return.

His mother sighed. "It's nothing you'd be interested in. Just next door. She wants some work done in that wilderness she calls a back-lot. But I'm not having you do it. I know her kind. Trust me, she'd want it for free or as good as."

"Hey, just because you and her don't get along ..." His mother and the local residents' group had already sent a delegation to number seventeen to complain. So what if the new arrival to Acacia Drive didn't meet their prim criteria? Brandon saw no need to be dragged into the business. "I can work out a fair price," he insisted.

"It's nothing to do with that. You've got your studies to ..."

"It's not your call, Mom." The past few years had been tough for her and he'd tried to play the good son, but enough was enough. "I'm eighteen and if I wanna work weekends, that's my choice. Why else have I been helping out Uncle Bobby all these years?" Digging rockeries and lugging stone around for his uncle's landscaping business had turned him into the tower of brawn he was today. It was time to put his skills and strength to use. Aside from all else the work might take his mind off the break-up with Debbie.

"Where do you think you're going?" his mother cried out as he headed down the stairs.

He stopped to lean down and peck her on the cheek. "You know where. See you later." And he left her standing open-mouthed.

* * * *

Janice was just about to reply to the e-mail when the doorbell rang. Her fingers paused halfway to the keys as she leaned back to get a better view of the front door. She frowned at the tall silhouette, having expected children selling cookies or magazines. No one ever called on her. At least not anyone from this town, and she had not heard a car pull up.

She checked her hair and smoothed her hands over flat tummy and curvaceous hips to straighten her dress. Janice always liked to look her best, even while lounging at home reading disappointing e-mails from her distant husband.

The bell rang again.

She felt the oppressive summer heat rush inside as she opened the door. It was the kid from number fifteen. So he'd followed up on her call despite his zealous church-going mother.

"Hi. I'm Brandon, ma'am." She cocked her head to one side as she observed him. "I live next door. My mother said that you needed some help with maintenance?"

"Come inside. You're letting in the heat." She stepped aside to allow him entrance.

"I ... um... it's nice and cool in here, ma'am." He smiled nervously, like he was expecting her to pounce on him at any second.

"I don't bite. And please don't call me ma'am, I'm not old enough to be anyone's ma'am."

"I'm sorry. I wasn't implying... I... um... sorry, ma'... Mrs. Cooper."

She laughed, a loud boisterous laugh that made her bosom heave gently. "Now that was even worse. Mrs. Cooper is my meddling bitch of a mother in law. Call me Janice."

"Sure, okay. You were looking for me? My mother... um... she's..."

"Oh I know what your mother is, Brandon. No need to explain. Follow me, I'll tell you all about my needs over some cool lemonade."

"Thank you, um... Janice."

She turned and walked toward the kitchen with him in tow, hips swaying seductively, high heels clicking loudly on the marble floor. A mischievous smile touched her lips as she caught his reflection in the glass wall lining one side of the kitchen; his eyes were moving up her shapely legs and pausing at her well toned ass.

* * * *

Dammit, he was doing it again, looking! That was what had almost got him in trouble two weeks ago. Innocently staring out his window, a headful of turmoil at the whole Debbie thing, and there she had been -- Janice Cooper, stretched out in a miniature bikini, applying lotion to every inch of that voluptuous worked-out body. Then settling down to her novel, one hand creeping its way under her string-bikini bottoms. He had watched it all ... Until, that is, her eyes had flicked up and caught his.

Damn! He had looked away, heart pounding, the colossal boner which had sprung in his shorts making him feel a spying pervert. Maybe she'd complain. "Mrs Lane, you have a peeping tom for a son!" He'd forgotten the incident until the walk over to her place. Now he was gawping at her all over again! As she guided him into a chair he diverted his eyes.

"Thank you," he said as she passed a glassful of lemonade. He tried to ignore the heave of her breasts against her flimsy dress as she joined him at the kitchen table. Around her he felt bulky and awkward, sure he was going to spill his drink everywhere.

"My pleasure, Brandon. You're going to be working up a sweat before the afternoon is out, so drink that down." Something about the way she said it made him heat up a little. He sipped nervously. "So are you as experienced as your advertising suggests?"

"Yeah, I've been gardening and landscaping for years. Anything needs doing, I'm good for it."

Her eyes swept his tall, muscled frame. "I don't doubt it." He shifted uncomfortably under scrutiny of her sapphire gaze. "It would be wrong of me to waste having such a strapping and able young man next door, don't you think?"

"Well, I ... What work do you have for me?" he asked in quiet desperation.

"For starters the grass in my back-lot needs hacking back." Her attitude turned more frank. "And I mean hacking, before you even get to mow it. My pool needs cleaning and if you do a good job at that, I've got some stone slabs ordered for a patio. I'll be honest with you, Brandon, I didn't ask for you to do you a favour. I need a man around here to get stuff done, not a boy. You're ready to do a man's job, aren't you?" She leaned forward, giving a view right down her impressive cleavage.

"Yes ... Yes ma'am. I mean Janice." God, he was swelling to the size of a bratwurst inside his pants. These days he felt like a reservoir of cum ever ready to burst and this woman was not helping.

"Then drink up and get your shirt off."

"Sorry?"

"You heard me." She grinned. "You're sweating already, you'll get drenched out there. So strip."

"Ehhh, sure. Whatever you say." He knocked back the drink, but had to turn away to mask his bulging crotch as he stood up and removed his shirt. In just his jeans he felt almost painfully exposed. "Are the tools outside?" He said it over his shoulder as he exited via the back door.

"They're out there. I think between us we've got all the tools we need," she chuckled. His face was burning as he set about the grass.

* * * *

Janice sipped her lemonade and watched Brandon through the one-way glass panels. She could not help but imagine how those big calloused hands would feel on her skin. She was mesmerized by the way his muscles rippled as he hefted the sickle to hack at tall grass. The heat outside was intense; she could see the rivulets run down his face, his lithe young body slick with sweat. He had been working out in the yard for close to an hour and she knew that she should let him take a break, but it was too much fun watching him build up a good sweat.

She had gotten the flyer in her mailbox about a month ago, but not paid it much mind. At the old house she had always had a meticulously tended garden, insisting on her husband hiring from only the best horticultural agencies. All of that had changed the day she caught her buff young neighbor spying.

She had been enjoying the late afternoon sun, not noticing him at his window until she sat up to apply more sun cream. Naturally, once she'd spotted him she had put on a little show. Applying lotion sensually slow, making sure she lingered on her inner thighs; spreading her legs just enough to make the spandex stretch tightly across her mound. Then she'd taken it one step further. Slipping her hand beneath the band of her bikini bottoms, she had run one finger lightly up and down her moist slit. Then without warning she had looked up directly at him. The glare of the sun on the glass had masked his expression, but within seconds she was staring at an empty window.

So when her husband hired a groundskeeper to tend the garden, she had sent him on his way with a cheque large enough to pay for three months of his services. Janice was not a patient woman, but she had waited two weeks before shoving her pride in her pocket and knocking on Martha Appleby's door.

The glasses clinked loudly against each other as Janice carried the tray of drinks out onto the patio. Brandon was bending over to check the lawnmower, his low-riding shorts hugging his hips. He picked up his t-shirt to wipe the sweat from his brow as he straightened and turned toward her.

"I wasn't sure if you would want more lemonade or if you wanted a beer, so I brought both." She flashed him her sweetest smile, pretending not to notice his surprise.

"Thank you. Umm... lemonade will be fine." He looked at a spot on the wall just slightly to the left of her as he spoke.

Janice smiled as she turned to pour the drink from the jug. Some spilled on the floor - woops -- so she had to kneel over one of the pool loungers to mop up with a towel. "Oh dear, I can be so clumsy at times." She laughed, checking the glass paneled wall for his reaction.

"I... ehhh... can I help?" She could hear his slow intake of air as she wriggled her ass and felt the thin fabric of her white bikini bottom riding up to reveal more of her toned ass cheeks.

She flashed him a sunny smile as she straightened and turned toward him. "All done. Come sit with me. You look flushed. Too much sun?"

"I... umm... sure. I could use a break, ma'am... umm... Janice."

She took delight in the efforts he was making not to look directly at her. His attempt to hide the effect her display had had on him was cute too; he approached with both hands hugging his t-shirt in front of his visibly taut crotch. He sat down on the lounger across from her, still clutching the t-shirt.

* * * *

Brandon strived to ignore Janice Cooper's magnificent bikini-trapped tits. He steered his focus away from the luscious thighs she was crossing and the taut swell of her buttocks. Even the refined beauty of her face unnerved him, tinged as it was with mockery. Or playfulness, her eyes roving shamelessly all over his torso. The scything of the grass had been therapeutic, he had channelled all his angst and frustration into hard labour, but now as he stewed in the aftermath with her staring at him, all the spare blood in his body rushed to his loins, swelling him huge. He couldn't stop it.

"Ehhh ... Thank you," he panted, as his hostess passed him a fresh glassful of lemonade. He gripped the towel firmly in place as he drank.

"So Brandon," Janice purred, "Mom keeping you shut up in your room studying? That must be hard for an active young guy like you. Bet you were just bursting to get out today."

"Well yeah, but I'm, y'know, trying to get into college. Get my grades up." And keep my cock down.

"Finding it hard?"

"Sorry?"

"Your studies. Maybe your talents are more physical. Something you can put your back into." She sipped, eyeing him over the rim of her glass.

He fumbled through his heat-hazed mind for a response. "Well I'm pretty good at landscaping ..."

"I'll make more use of you then." She leaned her elbows on the chair-back, so that nipples protruded through tight fabric. "So what else have you got to distract you? Any hot little girlfriends on the go?" Her smile was sweet and enquiring.

"Ehhh ... Yeah. No. There was someone. We split up." She broke it off, he thought grimly. Probably thought I wasn't smart enough for her.

"I'm sorry, sweetie." Janice reached over and set a consoling hand on his leg. It sent a shock of electricity from the root of his cock right up to the tip. "I'm sure you miss her. In all sorts of ways."

"Yeah, well, we hung out a lot ..."

"Aside from that." She'd withdrawn her hand, but her eyes smouldered with meaning. He couldn't believe it was the meaning he thought. "A big healthy guy like you must need to let off a little steam. C'mon, Brandon, you can tell me." God, she did mean it.

"I ... We ..." He blurted out the truth in his panic. "We didn't do, y'know, that." She raised a sceptical eyebrow. "Really. We met at church. She wanted to wait and I ... I ..."

"You respected her like a good boy," Janice said, nodding her understanding, though there was a hint of something wicked beneath it. "Only it didn't work out for you, poor love." Her face tightened. "No wonder you go looking into other people's gardens." Brandon's rush of horror might have freeze-dried his sweating body. He opened and shut his mouth to no effect. "Thought you'd got away with it, did you?"

"I ... It was ... I ..."

Janice's face broke into delight. "Brandon, I'm fucking with you! God, honey, the look on your face."

His face burned in the heat of her laughter. His heart was still pounding. Clutching his tee-shirt to his crotch he said, "Look, I should go finish the grass..."

She restrained him with a hand to his arm. "Enough work for today, sweetie. You've earned a shower. Go on. It's up the stairs, first left -- through the main bedroom to the en suite."

Brandon's panic hadn't abated. "It's okay, Mrs Cooper, I can shower at home."

"Janice! And I insist you use mine. Can't have you going back to Mom's all sweaty. There's regular shower gel among all the foufie girlie stuff, so you won't end up smelling of orange blossom. Now get your cute butt up those stairs." She squeezed his bicep and his cock swelled solid under disguise of the tee. "Go!"

It was a relief to escape upstairs from Janice's scrutiny, even if he had to clamp the shirt obviously to himself as he went. He hardly noticed anything about her luxury abode until he made it -- through her bedroom -- to the expansive wet-room beyond. The state-of-the-art power shower was open to the rest of the tiled space. It felt strange, transgressive even, to be stripping off in this woman's house still with a massive erection. He stood under cold jets deliberately to calm himself. With his head still full of voluptuous tits and ass, even that only slackened him to half-mast.

He eased the temperature to lukewarm and gradually relaxed into his shower. It felt good to have his worked-out body cleansed and massaged by multiple hard jets. He picked out some Lynx shower gel and began to soap the aching muscles of his arms and chest. Escape from work and his mother's finger-wagging. This was good. This was just fine. And if the price was a little teasing from his hot neighbour, then ...

"God in Heaven, ain't that a sight for sore eyes?"

Shit! "Mrs Cooper!" She was leaning in the doorway, still in her white bikini, just staring at him. He dropped the gel bottle and grabbed both hands to his cock, turning away for good measure.

"Nice. Those buns are just as tight as I'd hoped."

"Mrs Cooper! Janice!" He couldn't believe this. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm looking." He could hear the satisfied smile in her voice. "Just like you did, you naughty boy."

God, his ass was on display to her. And his dick was engorging to full size. "Janice! Please! Let me get a towel!"

"Not gonna happen, mister. I didn't tell on you and now you owe me."

"Owe you? Whadda you want from me?"

"Don't fret, honey. I'm not gonna touch you. I'm going to stay right here and watch while you soap yourself."

"While I ..."

"Soap yourself, Brandon. Thoroughly. From top to bottom. Every. Last. Inch."

* * * *

Janice stood in the doorway while Brandon squirmed in an attempt to preserve his modesty. "Please. I... I... please Mrs. Cooper. I'm sorry. Okay? I'm sorry I watched." He remained with his back to her, butt cheeks clenched, hands over his crotch and hunched slightly forward as he pleaded. "Now can you please pass me a towel?"

She ran one finger slowly along the edge of the counter as she sauntered into the room, eyes glued to his ass. She grabbed a bath sheet off the top shelf before sliding onto the counter. The cool marble top did little to calm the searing heat spreading through her loins. "Now if you're truly sorry, then I suppose you can have a towel."

"Really? I... thank you." She could hear the relief in his voice.

"So... what are you waiting for? Come 'n get it, big boy." She smiled; practically feeling her words sink in as his body tensed.

She heard him sigh in resignation as he turned to face her. He moved toward her with as much grace as a man hobbling along with his cock in his hands could muster. Much as she tried to look on nonchalantly, it was hard to miss how impressive his barely concealed package was. She found it charming that he thought that he could hide a cock that size.

She looked up into his blushing face, noticing that the meek puppy dog look had been replaced by a look of quiet determination. Her gaze lowered as he lifted one hand to reach for the towel. Even in its half erect state Brandon's cock exceeded her husband's in both length and girth. With the right amount of motivation, this young stud could give her the fuck of her life.

"The towel please?" He held her gaze as he reached out his hand, jaw set firmly.

"Not so fast, big boy." She eyed him solemnly. "You haven't given me what I want yet."

"But you said... you said..."

"I said that you could have a towel if you were truly sorry. I'm afraid your apology didn't sound sincere at all."

A flash of anger flitted across his rugged features, outstretched hand balling into a fist. His hands dropped to his sides, chin lifted defiantly as if challenging her, giving her a glimpse of his erect manhood before he turned from her.

"Oh you're looking for your clothes? About that... they were so icky with sweat, I thought I'd do you a favour and pop them into the washer." He groaned. "If you're feeling self-conscious because you're naked and I'm not... I could fix that."

"No... that's not what I..." He turned just in time to watch her reach back and pull the string on her bikini top. The scrap of material glided down her abdomen and slid off onto the floor. His cock twitched in appreciation of her naked breasts.

"Oops! Too late..." She shrugged her shoulders apologetically as she cupped her fleshy globes, thumbs stroking over her pointed nipples.

Her fingers moved down her sides, over her hips and teasingly slow across her thighs. She watched emotions chasing each other across his face as she pushed her thighs apart with her hands. Her fingers travelled higher up her inner thighs until her thumbs brushed lightly over her spandex-covered lips on their way to the delicate threads holding up her last scrap of clothing. Her escalating heartbeat was echoed in the dull throb starting deep inside of her soaked pussy.

"Please don't do that..." he pleaded in a shaky voice as her fingers gripped her bikini strings.

"I said I wouldn't touch you. I said nothing about not touching myself." She leaned her head to one side, but despite her words, her fingers dropped away from her hips.

"What do you want from me, Mrs. Cooper?" His voice was heavy with desire; no longer making any attempt to hide his desire, his fully-erect cock pointing purposefully in her direction.