A Lofty Perch

When you're a single guy who's fifty and not in really great shape, you don't have a lot of options for your free time. Yeah, I could start going to a gym and work off my love handles, maybe, or I could just start dressing and acting like I did when I was twenty. I saw some problems with both options.

Working out wasn't something I really needed. I wasn't in bad shape, really. I'd just added a few pounds over the years. It wasn't enough weight to cause me the common things that go along with a lot of weight gain like high blood pressure or difficulty breathing. I just wasn't the slim, trim guy I'd been in high school.

The whole thing about dressing and acting younger didn't appeal to me either. For one thing, it was essentially lying about my age, and I'm not very good at lying. I could maybe look the part, but as soon as I started talking, people would know. My music was Phil Collins, Mariah Carey, and Michael Bolton. I didn't understand or like Rap music at all. My favorite movies could be found in the discount bin at Walmart, and I didn't have a blog, Youtube channel, or Twitter or Facebook account.

Actually, there was a problem with looking younger too. In my family, most of the men develop a bald spot on the back of their heads at somewhere between thirty-five and forty-five. Mine was a little early, so even a comb-over didn't do much to hide it. I would have had to either wear a hat all the time or shave my head.

There was another option too, finding a woman and doing things with her, but in my limited experience with trying to find a woman, that depended upon the other two. Women my age were either looking for a guy who looked younger or they were already married. Women much younger than my age looked at me like I was ancient because of my laugh lines and thick glasses. Women much older than me... well, supposedly there are more women than men by that age, but they weren't interested in a younger guy. They wanted a man about their own age. That was the women who were still looking. A lot of those women had already been married, lost their husband for one reason or another, and had decided being single wasn't all that bad compared to what might happen with another husband.

As a result of thinking about all this for a while, I chose door number four -- a hobby. Actually, I'd been doing my hobby -- building model car kits -- since I was ten. Now I had more money and more time. I just needed a better place to do it. Plastic cement and paint have pretty strong odors, and my neighbors in my apartment building had complained to the super on more than one occasion. I needed my own place.

I lived in an apartment because I didn't need a lot of room for just me, and also because I didn't want to spend a big chunk of my savings to buy a house. The lease on my apartment was due to expire in two months, and after the super threatened to not renew my lease because of the smells, I decided having my own house was the only way I could keep doing my hobby.

I didn't want to spend a ton of money on a big house. I was thinking just a small, two bedroom house. I'd use the second bedroom for my model shop. When I said that to the real estate agent, she smiled.

"Those usually aren't available because people bought them a long time ago, and they're paid for now. The owners don't have any children left, so they don't have any reason to move. I'll see what I can find, but don't get your hopes up. In the meantime, let me show you some new houses out in that development on the south side of town."

I did look at a couple of those houses. They were nice houses, but they were all priced at a quarter million or better and they were on big lots that would require a lot of mowing in the summer. I didn't want to be riding or pushing a lawnmower every Saturday. I also didn't want to give up a big chunk of my savings for a down payment.

Two weeks after our first meeting, the real estate agent called me at work.

"Mr. Groves, I found what you're looking for. Would you have time this afternoon to look at it?"

}|{

The house was in one of those developments built right after WWII. The GI's coming home had a lot of back combat pay and a lot of them were married. Homebuilders saw a market and filled that market with two-bedroom, one-bath bungalows that were affordable if not all that fancy. Most were the same floor plan -- living room and one bedroom in front, kitchen and another bedroom in back -- but the rooflines varied a little. A lot of them had steep roofs and were sold as having the potential for another two bedrooms if the attic was finished out.

The house sat on a fifty by one hundred foot lot, so it had tiny front and back yards that would take all of half an hour to mow. Inside, it had been well kept, so there wouldn't be much maintenance required. It was just what I was looking for and it had one huge advantage. It had an attached garage.

None of those homes had been built with any garage at all because between the houses there was just barely room for a drive. What most owners did was build a one car garage in the back yard and then extend the two concrete strips that served as a drive back to that garage.

The previous owner had done something different with this house. He'd built a garage off the rear kitchen and then paved a drive out to the alley in back. It was a tight turn from the alley to the drive, but I tried it and it wasn't too bad. Getting out of the garage and back to the alley meant making that hard turn in reverse, but I figured I'd get used to it.

The second advantage to the garage was when the owner had built it, he built a story and a half to match the rest of the house. That meant there was a potential space that could be finished over the garage.

Most of the time when the attics in these homes were turned into bedrooms, they put a stairway in the living room. Those stairways took up a lot of space and were a pretty steep climb.

The owner of this house hadn't done it that way. He'd built the garage long enough and wide enough to accommodate a stairway in the end of the garage and still leave room for a full size car plus a workbench on one side. That stairway led up to a short hallway that ran between the attic over the garage and the attic over the house.

Those attics weren't finished except for some knee walls, lights, and a dormer window on one side of each. The real estate agent said the previous owner used both attics for storage, but with a little work, I could turn the attics over the house and the garage into bedrooms and use the existing second bedroom as an office or a den.

I didn't need any extra bedrooms or a den, but the more I thought about it, finishing both attics seemed like a good idea. I'd use the attic over the garage as a display area for my model car collection and use the attic over the house as my model shop. I'd still be making smells that my neighbors might not like, but I'd be high enough most of the odors would be carried over the neighboring houses by the breeze.

A month later, I closed on the house. It took the current owner another week to move out, and on that Saturday, I moved in.

}|{

All my model building stuff and my collection were in cardboard boxes I stashed in the second bedroom until I could get the attics finished out like I wanted. That was going to be pretty easy. I'd paint the drywall on the walls and ceilings, and then get some shelf brackets and line the walls of my display room with shelves. It was going to be more work to set up the model shop, but I knew what I wanted. I wanted a big bench for a building area and a paint booth with an exhaust fan for painting models with my airbrush. The truck I'd rented to move wasn't due back until Monday morning, so Sunday, I went to Home Depot and bought everything I'd need to do that.

It took a week of evenings to paint and build all the shelves, my work bench, and the paint booth. The next Saturday, I took a deep breath and then cut a round hole in the ceiling of the model shop for the exhaust from the paint booth. It was scary climbing up the steep roof to put the storm collar over the duct, but that duct was a little higher than the roof. My neighbors wouldn't even know I was painting.

When I got done, I realized I needed two more things for my model shop. I needed a chair to sit on at the bench and the paint booth, and I needed a couch. When you build really accurate models, you do some assembly work or paint and then have to wait until the glue or paint dries. When I lived in my apartment, I'd just turn on the TV and DVD player, get myself a beer, and wait on my couch. I could do the same thing in my house, but I thought since I was making my ultimate model shop, why not put a TV, small refrigerator, and a couch up there too?

After a trip to Walmart, I came home with an adjustable height chair on casters, a small refrigerator, a small TV, and one of those futon things. I had to wire a couple more electrical outlets to get power to the TV, DVD player, and refrigerator, but that wasn't hard to do. I put the futon in front of the dormer window, the TV on one side of that window and the refrigerator on the other side, then went downstairs for the case of beer I'd bought, brought it upstairs, and stocked the refrigerator. The beer was still pretty cold, so I popped the top on one, turned on the TV, stuck a DVD of a western in the player, and then stretched out on the couch.

}|{

That dormer window faced west, so I'd had plenty of light to work by that afternoon and I hadn't turned on the overhead lights. When I woke up, the movie was over, my beer was sitting on the floor and warm and flat, my watch said it was almost nine-thirty, and it was dark inside my model shop. When I sat up, I looked out the dormer window, and then sat back down because of what I was seeing.

The way all these development houses had been built was the two bedrooms of each were on one side and the kitchen and living room were on the other. The kitchen windows looked out over the back yard, and the living room windows looked out over the front yard. The bedrooms had a window each that looked out over the drive between the house and the house next door. That was because the houses were so close together if there were windows in both sides, you'd be able to see from the living room and kitchen of one right into the bedrooms of the next.

The previous owner had screwed up that plan because the dormer windows in the attics faced the bedrooms of the house beside it. I was looking down into the bedroom window of the house next door, and that wasn't all I was looking at.

I'd seen my neighbor on that side a couple of times, but we'd never met because I'd been busy getting everything set up. All I knew about her was she looked about my age or maybe a couple years older, had short red hair and she seemed to like T-shirts and jeans. She looked pretty good in those T-shirts and jeans too.

Well, she wasn't wearing a T-shirt and jeans that night. She wasn't wearing anything at all, and what she was doing kept me looking at her. She was stretched out on her bed with her knees in the air, and had one hand stroking her breasts and the other moving up and down between her wide-spread thighs.

I was still watching her when she opened her mouth, arched up off the bed, and then began rocking her hips up and down. A second later, she arched a little higher and stayed there for a few more seconds before slowly easing back down. She pulled her hand from between her thighs then and revealed the thick red bush on her mound and between her thighs.

She lay there for a while, still stroking her breasts and running her fingers through that thick bush. Then, she got up and left. A little later, the lights in her bedroom went out except for a lamp beside the bed. She was still naked when she stretched out on the bed, pulled the sheet and blanket up over her, and then turned off the lamp.

}|{

Just because I hadn't been looking for a partner didn't mean I was immune to a naked woman touching herself. My brain was telling me it had been way too long since I'd been with a woman and my cock was seconding the motion.

I sat there for a while thinking about what I'd just seen. She couldn't have known I was watching her. If she had, she'd have pulled the curtains closed, but they were tied back on each side of the window.

I wondered if she did this every night, then shamed myself for looking in the first place, then shamed myself for hoping she did. Watching her wasn't right. I mean, how would I feel if I was jacking off while somebody was watching me? I'd be embarrassed, that's how I'd be. Still, I couldn't ignore what watching her had done to me.

I fumbled my way to the stairs and went down to my bathroom, then stood in front of the toilet, closed my eyes, and imagined it had been my cock stroking in and out of the woman, and imagining it was my hands stroking her breasts and nipples. It didn't take long until I jerked hard as the first spurt splashed into the bowl followed by two more. I wiped up the dribble with a piece of toilet paper and then flushed.

I hadn't eaten dinner, but it was so late, I just made a sandwich of cold cuts and washed that down with a fresh, cold beer. Then I went to bed, but I couldn't get the woman out of my head.

She didn't have a young woman's slim body. Her breasts were heavy enough they were flattened on her chest and had rolled to each side. Her waist wasn't skinny, but it was still a waist, and from her waist her wide hips flared out, again, not fat, but full and enticing. Her thighs and calves fit her general size, not skinny and firm, but soft and full.

Then there was her bush. I'd always liked a woman to have some hair on her mound and lips, and the woman was truly blessed that way. I found myself wishing she hadn't stretched out her legs when she finished. I would have loved seeing how big her lips were. I was hoping they'd be full, puffy, and maybe hang down a little.

I thought about the woman all the next day. I wondered if she'd be there again. After a while, I was hoping she'd be there again and doing the same thing. By four that night, I was planning to watch her window to see.

Just in case she happened to look up and see a light in my model shop, I turned out all the lights and the TV before I went downstairs to eat. At about eight, I felt my way back up stairs by using my little key chain flashlight. Once I was at the top of the stairs, I went to my workbench, pulled the chair over until I could just see the top of the window, sat down, and waited.

About eight thirty, I saw the light in her bedroom come on. I got down off my chair and crawled over to the futon and peeked over the edge.

She was there, but she was dressed. All I got to see was her taking the sheets and pillowcases off her bed and putting new ones on. That was pretty neat though. When she bent over to tuck the top corners of the bottom sheet under the mattress, I could see her heavy breasts move around. Her jeans also tightened around her butt and that was pretty arousing too.

She got the bed changed, then gathered up the old sheets and pillowcases and left again. She came back about five minutes later and started undressing. I sat there on the floor with my arms on the futon and watched.

She pulled her T-shirt off first, and when she pulled it over her head, there were her big breasts nestled in the cups of a blue lace bra. She laid the shirt on the bed, then slipped her bra straps down over her shoulders and arms. When she turned the bra around so the hooks were in the front, her breasts jiggled a little before settling down on her chest. She unhooked the bra and then put it on the bed beside the shirt.

After she scratched under both breasts and made them wobble, she sat down. I had to raise up a little to see what she was doing, but she was only taking off her shoes. She stood up then, unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans, and started rocking her hips to get them off. I watched as they moved down enough I could see the narrow waistband of her blue thong panties, then watched as they moved down enough to uncover the narrow strip of blue mesh that dived between her thighs.

She sat down again then and pulled her jeans off her legs, then put them on the bed. The finale was when she hooked her thumbs in the waistband of the thong, pulled it down over her hips, and then let it fall down her legs. When she bent over to pick it up, I saw her heavy breasts swing forward and hang there for a second, then settle back on her chest when she stood back up. She gathered everything up then and left the room.

While she was gone, I moved from behind the futon to the side of the window so I could see her better if she repeated what she'd done the night before. It was about fifteen minutes later that she walked into her bedroom, picked up a bottle of what I figured was lotion from the bed table, and then sat down on the bed. For the next several minutes, she squirted lotion from the bottle into her palm and then rubbed it all over he body.

I'd never seen a woman do that before, but it struck me that it was really erotic. It wasn't so erotic when she did her shoulders and arms, but the rest had my cock straining to get out of my jeans.

She began with her legs. She'd squirt a bunch of lotion on her palm, then rub them together, and then slowly stroke from her ankles up to the thatch of red hair on her mound. She did that over and over, and after a while, I was imagining it was my hands doing that. I was sure she'd feel satin smooth and when I got to that hair, her lips would hang down and be really soft. She'd sigh when I touched them and open her legs wider.

She didn't sigh, of course. She just did both legs and then stood up, turned around and smoothed lotion over her butt cheeks. They weren't firm, but they still were erotic. Seeing her hands moving over them and then cupping them to get to the crease between her hips and thighs had me holding my breath waiting for her to slip her hand a little further and begin stroking herself.

Next came her tummy and that wasn't all that erotic either, but then she moved to her breasts. She squirted a bunch of lotion on her hand and then spent what seemed like a long time working the lotion in to the skin. It didn't look like she was arousing herself, but the way she squeezed her breasts and pushed them together was sure arousing me. When she stroked her hands over her nipples, I had to unbutton and unzip my jeans.

She finished with her arms and shoulders, put the bottle back on the bed table, and then pulled down the sheet and blanket. I saw her take a small bottle from the drawer in the bed table, then stretch out on the bed just like she was the night before.

She reached down with the bottle and dribbled a little clear liquid on her mound, then put the bottle back in the drawer. With one hand stroking her nipples and one hand working down between her thighs, she started masturbating again.

It was about the same as the night before except she'd stop rubbing between her thighs, close two fingers together, insert those two finger inside her and stroke them in and out for a while, then go back to rubbing at the top of her lips. After the second time she did that, I watched her pinch her right nipple and then watched as her body jerked up into her hand.

I'm not sure how long it took because by then, I was slowly stroking my stiff cock and waiting for her to have an orgasm. I'd take myself to almost the point of cumming and then stop and watch what she was doing. When I'd calmed down a little, I'd start slowly stroking my cock again and watch her while she flipped a finger over her stiff nipples, or quickly rubbed between her thighs.

The end was the same as the night before. I watched her start to gasp and then hold her breath as she arched up a little, then fall back down with her hips rocking up and down. Then I saw her open her mouth, arch high off the bed while her thighs jiggled, and then start shaking hard.

I was shaking pretty hard too because I'd just come in my hand. I waited until she got up for a couple minutes, left, and then came back, climbed into bed and shut off the light.

I could feel my cum leaking from between my fingers so I made my way in the dark to my bench, tore off a paper towel from the roll, and used it to wipe my hand mostly clean. Then I used my little flashlight to find my way to the stairs and down them to the house.

Before those two nights, I'd been anxious to meet my neighbors because I wanted them to know I was a nice guy who wouldn't cause any trouble in the neighborhood. Now, I was scared to death of meeting the woman. I was sure I'd give away my secret and once I did, she'd call me a pervert and maybe call the police.

Because of that, I didn't go up to my model shop after dark for a week. I figured I'd gotten away with it twice, but my luck wouldn't hold. I still remembered every night while standing in front of the toilet though. Now, I was imagining hearing what I couldn't hear through the windows.

"Oh yes, Tim. Do that to me some more."

"Oh God, I need you inside me now."

"Don't stop, Tim, I'm almost there."

Like with any habit, it was hard to resist going up there to see if she was still getting herself off every night. The woman was like a drug. After twice, I wanted to keep watching her. I didn't but it was really hard.

}|{

We finally met the next Sunday afternoon. The grass needed mowing because of the rain we'd had, so after I bought a mower at Walmart, I gassed it up and mowed my little front and back yards. I was wheeling the mower back to my garage when I heard a woman say, "Hi there, neighbor."

I turned and saw her standing outside her back door. She was smiling when she walked over and held out her hand.

"I've been trying to catch you, but you seem to have been busy since you move in. I'm Stella Richards."

I shook her hand.

"I'm uh... Tim Groves. I guess I have been busy getting everything done I wanted to do. I haven't been avoiding you."

She chuckled.

"Most men do after they meet me. I'm a little too forward for them. They want to be in charge and tell me what to do and I won't let them. I decided after Willie died that I wasn't going to belong to a man again. If a man could live with me being how I am, I'd consider him. If he couldn't, he could take a hike. Apparently most can't. I haven't been out with a man in years."

I was thinking of something to say when she looked at me and asked if I had a girlfriend.

"I haven't seen a woman living with you, so you must not be married. I'll bet you have a girlfriend and she doesn't mind you telling her what to do. Most women our age don't mind that. They got used to it."

I shook my head.

"No, no girlfriend. I gave up looking a few years ago. As the saying goes, most of the good ones are already married. The women who aren't don't seem to see anything in me worth having, either that or they aren't interested in a relationship with a man."

Stella smiled at me then.

"I didn't say I wasn't interested. There are certain things men do very well. I just said it would have to be on my terms. I could even bend my rules a little with the right man. I just haven't found him yet.

"So, if I'm not being too nosey, what have you been doing that's kept you so busy?"

I felt a fleeting flash of fear rush through me, so I lied a little.

"Oh... I... uh... you'll probably think this is really immature, but I like to build model car kits. I've been making myself a little display room over the garage."

Stella smiled again.

"My Willie built models too. He built wood models of sailing ships. He'd spend hours making the ship and then spend even more hours making all the ropes that went to the masts and sails and everything else. My son has all that stuff now, but I still have one ship if you'd like to see it sometime. I'd like to see your car models too."

I said I'd be glad to show her once I got it all finished, but I still had to put down some decent flooring and do some more painting. Stella just waved her hand.

"It can't be as bad as what Willie made our house. We had to eat on TV tables because he always had his ships and parts spread out all over my kitchen table. I won't think anything bad about you just because you don't have a nice floor and nice paint."

Well, I couldn't very well tell her no after that.

"OK, but it's kind of a mess."

I led Stella to the stairway in the garage, and then up the stairs, but at the top, I turned to the room over the garage. I turned on the light and Stella followed me into the room. She looked at the shelves and then at me.

"Wow. You must have been doing this for a long time to have this many. I think you're also pretty good. They look like real cars."

I shrugged.

"Yeah. When I got divorced, I didn't have much to do, so I started trying to build them so they'd look real. I've gotten better over the years but I'm not where I want to be yet."

Stella said she didn't know how I could get much better. I lifted the hood of the 1957 Chevy on the shelf in front of her.

"I haven't figured out a good way to put on all the wiring, hoses, and belts yet. See, on this one I have the sparkplug wires and the radiator hoses, but there are a lot more on a real car."

Stella took a pair of glasses out of the pocket of her T-shirt, put them on, and then leaned down for a closer look. Her jeans tightened around her hips and I got a twinge in my cock.

When she stood back up, she shook her head.

"That's what Willie always used to tell me. He learned how to do all the ropes on the masts and sails but he wanted to have more detail. He was working on how to make those bumper things they use to keep the ship from hitting the dock when he had his heart attack. I don't know how you'd get more stuff around that engine. It looks pretty full right now."

We looked at most of my model cars. Stella thanked me for showing them to her and we started for the stairs. When we got there, Stella looked into my model shop and asked what was in there.

I mentally cursed myself for not putting a door on the model shop. I'd intended to put doors on both rooms, but what with work and getting everything set up, I hadn't done it yet.

"Oh, that's just the little shop where I build my models."

Before I could say anything more, Stella walked down the short hall and into my shop. All I could do was follow her and hope for the best.

Stella looked at my workbench and then up at me.

"Willie would have given anything to have a workbench this big. We just didn't have room."

She turned around then and saw my futon, refrigerator, and TV, then turned back to me and grinned.

"I think you must do more up here than build models. You don't need a couch and this other stuff to build model cars."

"Well, in a way I do. After I glue parts together or paint something I have to wait for it to dry before I can do any more. That's when I turn on my TV and watch a DVD. The refrigerator is because I like a beer sometimes when I'm working up here. It beats walking down the stairs and then back up."

Stella walked over and sat down on the futon and looked out the window.

"You can see over all the houses up..."

She turned to face me and grinned.

"You can see my bedroom window too. I'll have to remember that or you're liable to get a show some night."

Well, I've found the best way to answer something like that is to lie, at least that's the first thing that comes to mind.

"Oh, I hadn't noticed. I almost never look out that window. I'm always bent over my bench or painting in my paint booth."

Stella didn't say anything, and I couldn't tell if she believed me or not.

Thankfully, Stella looked around and then said, "Looks like you have a great place to work. Willie would have loved something like this. Well, I better go get my lunch now."

When we were back outside, Stella smiled.

"It was great to finally meet you, Tim. If you ever need help with something, all you have to do is knock on my door."

I said she should do the same, and Stella grinned.

"I just might take you up on that the next time I have a problem. I'm not very good at fixing things, and it costs a fortune to have somebody come out. It looks like you're pretty good with your hands and tools, so maybe you could help me out."

I stayed away from that window for another week. I just knew Stella would be watching to see if I was looking at her and I didn't figure she'd be happy about it. If she didn't want a man telling her what to do, she sure as hell wouldn't like a man watching her when she was naked.

The temptation got too great after a week though. The next night I used my little keychain light to get up the stairs and over to the window. About nine, Stella's bedroom light came on.

When she came into the room, she was dressed just like before and this time, she took off her T-shirt and jeans but stopped then. Her bra and panties were black mesh, and since she was only about fifteen feet away, I could see her nipples through the mesh of her bra.

Stella pulled the sheet and blanket down to the foot of the bed and then left for a couple of minutes. When she came back, she took off her bra and panties, then sat down on the end of the bed with her legs still on the floor. When she spread her legs, I saw a little line of pink peeking through her lush bush.

Just like before, Stella started by stroking her breasts and nipples, and after doing that for a while, she started stroking both hands up her inner thighs. When she got to her hair-fringed lips, she pulled them apart a little and stroked between them with one finger. After she'd done this about a dozen times, her lips stayed open a little when she let them go. That's when she started working her fingers into her entrance, first one, then two. I saw her mouth open when she began sliding those two fingers in and out.

It was obvious that Stella was getting herself really excited really fast. I wasn't sure why that would be, but she was having the same effect on me. Right after she'd taken off her shirt and pants and then left, I'd pulled down my jeans and underwear. I'd also torn a paper towel from the roll I'd put by the window that morning. I was stroking my cock in the same rhythm Stella was using.

It didn't seem as if she took as long this time. All of a sudden, Stella grabbed her right nipple with her left hand, pinched it tight and then pulled her breast into a long cone. Her hips bucked then and she started to writhe around. When I saw her open her mouth in a gasp, I let myself go and filled the paper towel in my hand.

I'd been done for a while before Stella relaxed. She slipped her fingers out of her entrance, then moved them to her mouth and licked her fingertips. If I could have cum again, that would have done it. As it was, all I could do was watch.

I was still watching when Stella stood up, walked over to shut off the light and then got into her bed and covered up. I was sure she'd have looked up at my window at some point, but she hadn't, not even once.

Every night the rest of the week was the same except I'd work on my models until about eight thirty, then shut off all the lights and take my seat by the window. Every night about nine, Stella would turn on her bedroom light, walk up to the bed, and undress. Her bra was usually different and her panties always were, but once she had them off, she'd lay down on her bed and get herself off. I'd sit there by my window stroking my cock and hoping we'd both cum at the same time. Often we did, but a few times, she had me so aroused I couldn't hold back.

It was that Saturday night that everything changed. It started out the same way. Stella turned on her bedroom light at about nine, then took off all her clothes. She aroused herself by stroking her breasts and nipples, then took herself all the way with either two fingers inside her or one finger on her clit. I followed her orgasm by cumming into my paper towel. Once I'd cum, I watched Stella stretch out and lightly stroke her breasts and mound for a while.

I was still watching when Stella stood up, walked over to the window, and blew a kiss up toward my window. Then she grinned, went to shut off the light, and then got into her bed and covered up.

I didn't know how she could have seen me but she must have. I might not be in trouble though, because I didn't think she'd have been smiling or would have blown me a kiss if she was going to call the police. I found out the next day.

It was about ten when someone knocked on my front door. It was Stella and she was holding a box and smiling.

"Hi Tim. I brought you a cake to say thank you."

I said I hadn't done anything for her yet, but she grinned.

"Yes you did. The last week has been fantastic. Was it as good for you?"

Playing dumb doesn't usually work for me but I tried it anyway.

"Hi Stella. I'm not sure what you mean. I was bushed after I got home, so I turned in early. I had a good rest if that's what you mean."

Stella smiled the same smile my mother used to use when she knew I wasn't telling the truth.

"Now, Tim, I know you were watching me every night. It's OK. You were supposed to watch me. It was exciting for me knowing you were. I haven't had orgasms that strong since Willie used to... well, for a long time."

I said I didn't know why she'd think I was watching her and she grinned again.

"Your glasses reflect the light from my bedroom. I saw it the first night you watched me right after you moved in. Come on, admit it. You were watching me, weren't you?"

I was caught and there was no use in denying it. I just hoped she would understand.

"Well, yes, I was watching you."

"Why did you stop for a while?"

I shrugged.

"I was afraid you'd call the police."

Stella chuckled.

"You don't understand do you?"

"I guess not."

"Well, let's not talk here. Are you going to invite me in?"

Once we were in my living room, Stella sat the cake on my coffee table, sat down with me on the couch, and then put her index finger to her cheek.

"Now, where should I start? Maybe at the beginning? That's always a good place to start.

"When Willie and I were first married, neither one of us knew much about sex and what turned each of us on. I don't mean that we didn't have a good sex life because we did. It was just that we both felt there was something more. Then we went to Florida on vacation. I wasn't as uh... filled out as I am now, so I bought a bikini.

"That first day when we were sitting on the beach, guys kept walking by us and staring at me. I was embarrassed by other men staring at me at first, but after a while, it started to feel good. I thought Willie would mind, but I was wrong. That night after we went to the beach, Willie told me he got excited by the men looking at me. He proved it too. That was some night. We did it three times and didn't get to sleep until three in the morning.

The reason was Willie kept telling me he saw this guy or that guy looking at my boobs and licking his lips or looking at my bikini bottoms and then rubbing his crotch. When I thought about that, it got me started again, and when I started touching myself, that got Willie started again too.

After that, I started dressing sexier than before when we went somewhere. Guys would stare at me, and that just made Willie more excited. When we'd get home, he'd take me to bed and... well, it was pretty fantastic. We even went to a nude beach once, and when we got back to the room I thought he was going to make me pass out.

"Well, as Willie got older, he couldn't... he didn't get very hard anymore so we couldn't do what we'd done before. He still liked guys staring at me, so I kept dressing in sexy clothes. We just had to change what we did.

"When Willie had his heart attack and died, all that ended for me. There wasn't any reason for me to dress in sexy clothes anymore, and even if I had, not many guys like women as old as I am. The young ones who do are a little freaky.

"I really missed the feeling that men thought I was sexy, so at night, I'd get undressed like I did for Willie, and then I'd think about what we'd done when we were younger and make myself have an orgasm.

"The people who owned the house before you were older than me, but I still wished Mr. Ames would look out that window and see me. At least I'd know at least one man was still interested. They always went to bed at about nine, so he never did.

"When you moved in, I wondered if I could get you to watch me doing myself and it would feel like it used to feel. It did. I felt the same thrill I used to feel when men watched me, and when I had an orgasm, it was almost as good as it was with Willie. That's why I kept doing it... so you could watch me and I could get that thrill again. The only thing that could make that better is..."

Stella put her face in her hands then.

"You must think I'm a crazy old bat. I made you do something you probably wouldn't do on your own."

Well, I could understand now, at least a little.

"Stella, I don't think you're crazy, and I don't know why you think men wouldn't like looking at you even when you're dressed. You're a very sexy woman in my opinion."

Stella looked up at me and smiled.

"How sexy do you think I am? Am I sexy enough you'd want to do the real thing instead of watching me though you window?"

I chuckled.

"Are you trying to seduce me?"

Stella grinned.

"Not yet, but I will if that's what it takes to convince you."

"Why me? I'm no prize catch."

Stella scooted over close to me on the couch.

"Because I think you're a nice guy and because you said you'd help me if I needed help. Well, I need help. Maybe this will convince you I'm serious."

Stella pulled her T-shirt over her head and this time she wasn't wearing a bra. I'd seen her breasts from a distance and thought they were pretty nice. As close as she was now, I could see every little ripple of her nipple beds and the little dimples in the tips of her nipples.

Stella reached for my hand, and guided it to her left breast. When my fingers touched her, she closed her eyes.

"Mmm... it's been so long since I felt a man touch me. Keep touching me, all over."

I suppose the old saying that there's no fool like an old fool is true, but feeling Stella's soft breast was already stiffening my cock. What made up my mind is when I stroked her nipple. Stella shivered, and then a little moan slipped out of her mouth. When I stroked that nipple again, it started to swell up and after two more strokes, it was longer, thicker, and stiff.

I cupped her other breast, stroked that nipple until it was just as stiff, and then said maybe we should go in my bedroom. Stella shook her head.

"No, not this first time. Take me right here on your couch."

I shouldn't have been surprised when she wiggled her butt to get her jeans off and I didn't see any panties, but I was. Stella just grinned and said she thought it would save time if she didn't wear any. She laid back on my couch, hooked one leg over the back, and held out her arms.

I hadn't made love with a woman in a long time and I had no idea what Stella liked other than what I'd seen her to do herself, so that's what I started doing. I kept stroking her nipples with one hand, and slipped my hand up her inner thigh. It was just as smooth and soft as I'd imagined.

When I got to her full, red bush and lightly stroked the hair, Stella moaned again and spread her legs until she had her other leg hanging off my couch. When she did that, I saw her lips open a little and a little pink line appeared through the hair.

The lips under that red thatch were full, soft, and puffy, and when I stroked over them to separate her hair, Stella sighed.

"It feels different when you do it, and it feels better."

Stella moaned when I slipped my finger between her lips, and she moaned and her tummy tightened when I stroked her inner lips. I discovered her inner lips were long enough that when I slipped my finger between them, they sort of stuck to it. When I pulled that finger back out, the little folds followed my finger like they were trying to keep it in there. When I moved my finger down to Stella's entrance her inner lips stayed with my finger and sort of rolled up when I slipped that finger inside her.

Stella seemed to like that. When I slipped my finger back out and then pushed it back inside her, Stella moved her hips up a little and then moaned. I felt wet warmth around my finger and when I pulled that finger out, her inner lips stuck to it again.

Stella had used two fingers, so I put my index finger and middle finger together and started them into Stella's entrance. I heard her gasp as they went in and then a murmured, "I like that. Keep doing it."

I remembered that I was still dressed, and I almost ripped the buttons off my shirt getting it off. I had a little trouble with my pants because they wouldn't come off over my shoes, but when I finally got that all worked out I sat down on the couch between Stella's legs and slipped my two fingers inside her again. She'd been watching me undress, but as soon as she felt my fingers between her lips she closed her eyes and smiled. When I began stroking them in and out, she put one finger at the top of her open lips. I gently pulled her hand away and started doing the same thing with my other hand.

I was trying to remember how Stella acted when she started moving her fingers like she was going to cum. She saved me the trouble by pulling on my back until I was kneeling between her spread thighs. She reached between us, found my cock, and pushed it down to her entrance. When I pushed in, Stella pushed up, and my cock went in about half way. She shuddered when I pulled back out, and then mewed out a little moan when I pushed in again. When I was all the way in, Stella pulled my face down to her breast with one hand and poked her nipple at my lips with the other.

I thought after doing herself for a week, it would take her a while to get there, but it didn't. One minute I was making slow, deep strokes that felt fantastic to me, and the next she was using her legs to pull herself up to meet every stroke. She started to pant, then held her breath and raised up into that stroke and stayed up. My next stroke felt like it went in a little deeper and when I bottomed out, Stella's thighs started to shake.

She grabbed my back, moaned, and then cried out. I felt her passage grip my cock and that was it. I groaned and let the first shot go. It raced up my shaft just as she clamped down on it again. I don't remember the next two or three strokes. It's hard to remember anything with a woman writhing under you and gasping and raking your back with her nails while you're cumming too.

Even after I was done, little shivers kept running through Stella's body and each one sort of sucked at my cock. It was the damnedest thing I'd ever felt. When those mostly stopped, Stella looked up at me.

"Mmm... that's what I've been missing for so long."

I bent my head and kissed Stella's right nipple. She caught her breath and then giggled.

"If you keep doing that, you're gonna have to do me again. Maybe I'll just keep you where you are until you get hard again. How would that be?"

Well, she did. It took about half an hour before my cock got hard again, and this time Stella didn't want any foreplay. When she thought I was hard enough, she kissed me on the lips and then whispered, "Do me now. It won't take long so don't hold back."

Well, I found out that's just how Stella works. The first time, she needs me to watch her undress and then she needs some kissing her on the mouth, a lot of kissing her nipples, and a little use of my fingers before she's ready. The second time, well, I think she's ready as soon as she comes down from the first, but she's never said that. She always uses her muscles down there to get me started and then pokes a nipple in my face because she's figured out that does as much for me as it does for her.

I'm not sure where this is going. I'm happy being single and so is Stella. Maybe we'll just keep doing what we're doing until one of us can't anymore, although Stella told me what Willie did with her after that happened to him. It was really erotic to have my nose buried in her red bush and my tongue licking those long inner lips and her big clit. She came fast, and then pulled me up on top of her, grabbed my cock, and tried to put it inside her. When I helped her by pushing it in, she shuddered a little and then sighed, "Oh God, I can't believe I'm feeling this way again."

The only problem with Stella is she's keeping me from doing much model work. I kind of miss putting my cars together, but I can't seem to give up the feeling I get when Stella strips, puts her arms around my neck, and says, "I need you to do me now."

I suppose one of these days she'd start to taper off. I just hope when that day comes I can still climb the steps up to my model shop. There are some mornings after Stella goes home that it's a pretty hard thing to do.