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“Neighbours, everybody needs good neighbours.
With a little understanding, you can find the perfect blend. “
A loud noise, the horn of a large furniture removals van, disturbed my peaceful afternoon. My wife, Elaine, at work, I was sitting quietly solving the newspaper crossword. Our twin daughters holidaying in Marbella before resuming university meant that most weekdays were now spent alone either relaxing in the house, gardening or doing odd jobs around the house. Elaine had a list … an ever-growing list … of jobs to do, but coffee time always meant the newspaper crossword must be solved before DIY continued.
The horn sounded again, once, twice before another annoyed neighbour came out to move her car. Angry words were exchanged before temporary peace returned, albeit for just a few minutes.
I’m Harry by the way, a builder by trade but, with the recent economic slump, work is often hard to find. I’ve quite a number of contacts who ring me, often at short notice, offering work but although I can turn my hand to many things it’s a constant struggle to earn a decent living. Elaine’s job helps a lot and sometimes a friend or neighbour needs building, plastering, or decorating work doing cash in hand and usually at ‘mates rates’. In order to keep fit and ready, I try to work out at a community gym. Whilst the equipment is basic and not state-of-the-art, I’m usually toned and ready to go at a moment’s notice.
The removals van had now managed to manoeuvre itself into a tight space ready to discharge its contents into the house next door. Looking out, I could see two ladies speak to the men briefly and then walk down the garden path to unlock the door. One I could see was older, late thirties I guess and smartly dressed and the other was maybe late teens. She was real eye candy – long slim legs, short denim skirt and a rather tight fitting tee-shirt boldly accentuating her slim figure. Her breasts, though a bit on the small side, pushed proudly against the thin cotton. No bra, maybe I thought unnecessary given the warmth of the mid September sun, meant her nipples made no effort to remain unnoticed behind the confining material.
This was eye candy indeed. Peter, my best friend within my lightweight shorts, had noticed too. I felt embarrassed at such a rapid arousal given that Elaine rarely refused to welcome him inside her. Maybe Peter was eager for a new temporary home? But maybe I was distracted … the older lady too could also give Peter some temporary but satisfying accommodation.
I went back to my crossword. Peter went back to a deeply contented sleep. The crossword completed, I thought I would introduce myself (purely as a friendly neighbour). The younger lady was carrying a few small items inside.
“Hi,” I said, “I’m Harry, “Welcome to the street.”
“Nicola,” came the reply.
We both smiled.
“And …” I pointed.
Nicola smiled again. “My mother. Hazel.”
The smile was followed by a brief explanation. Hazel was just 17 when she became pregnant and 18 when Nicola was born. Nicola had grown up to be a real beauty. Her broad, northern accent seemed to fit in with a down-to-earth, no nonsense manner.
“Why don’t you both come round later, it’s been a hot day for you both and I’ve plenty of beer in the fridge.”
“Sure, thanks,” said Nicola with a broad grin.
It was late afternoon when the doorbell rang. We went round to the patio I’d built the last time there was little building work. 3 cans of Becks would help us all cool down.
After the initial shock of an unplanned pregnancy all went well at first. Hazel’s partner worked, they shared a small terraced house. Hazel got part time work. That was until the drinking started, the odd bet at the bookies, the late nights, the reluctance to satisfy Hazel’s needs having satisfied some other woman’s … you get the idea. The relationship eventually broke down completely, followed by years of struggle. This however had made the bond between mother and daughter very strong. Boyfriends, partners, came and went but mother and daughter remained bonded. The two finally decided to pool their finances to buy a house of their own.
Their new home had been up for sale for some time. An elderly couple had lived there. He died, she moved into sheltered housing. The house was badly needing refurbishment from top to bottom. We had spare keys under an arrangement with the estate agency in case an emergency arose. At first it had aroused some interest but times have been tough. Eventually a much reduced offer had been accepted. Nicola and Hazel had a home they could afford but much work needed doing.
“Well,” I said. “I’ve plenty of time on my hands. Just ask, if I can help at all ”
As we were talking I couldn’t help noticing the angle of the sun behind Nicola was casting a silhouette of her breasts through what was the almost obscene thinness orhangazi escort of her obviously well worn tee-shirt. Our glasses almost empty I returned to the fridge for 3 more cans of Becks. Whilst I was gone Nicola had tucked the tee-shirt into her skirt, tightening the thin cotton which was now amost moulded to her breasts. My new 19 year old neighbour then accidentally spilled some beer down her tee-shirt. One nipple was now proudly on display through the transparent cotton.
“Oops!” she said, trying to rub off the spilled beer. This just spread the wetness, making more of the material opaque.
I tried hard (believe me!) to continue our conversation, explaining how building work was hit and miss and sometimes I could work for several weeks but at other times there was no work at all.
“That’s good to know,” said Hazel. “We’re going to need a lot of help.”
Sadly time was pressing and tea break was over. Hazel and Nicola went back to do essential unpacking. I didn’t see them again before Elaine came back from work. Her income, though modest, was enough to see us through the hard times, supplemented by odd jobs I did.
“Hi darling,” my usual greeting. “How has your day been at work?
She smiled, used to the question.” Oh, just like any other day. Anyway I’m home now – you can make me happy.”
I explained that our new neighbours had arrived, gave her a bit of background.
“They both seem nice,” I said, “Mother and daughter. She’s 37, her daughter 19. They bought the house for a really good price, but as you know it needs a lot of work doing to it.”
“Well that’s where you can help, you like to keep yourself busy. Why not offer?”
I took that as approval, but keeping myself busy wouldn’t be the same way as Elaine realised, or at least that’s the way I planned it. She was working almost full time but supermarket pay wasn’t excellent. Tired in the evening, Elaine slept soundly as soon as her head hit the pillow. Peter wasn’t getting the attention he was used to and he was all too eager to remind me it was so.
For the next few days I didn’t see much of our new neighbours, who were probably busy getting their furniture sorted and unpacking the large boxes that came with them. I knew Hazel worked and Nicola did some bar work on their busy evenings. Come Monday our twin girls arrived back home, well tanned. At first the brief greetings, hugs, kisses which has always been part of family life. Then a quick rundown on how the holiday had gone.
“Well, you two. Good flight? Missed you both.”
“Good holiday? You’ve both got a good tan.”
I omitted asking to see where the white bits were.
Ok, they were tired and needed to freshen up first. Some phone calls, texts, Facebook, tweets – catching up on the gossip.
The lack of peace and quiet when the twins were home was something Elaine and I got used to. My wallet wasn’t quite as full of notes as usual but Karen and Sam still needed an endless source of cash. Even my plastic was near maxed out. But the girls were beautiful younger models of their mother, and that I couldn’t deny. The hard-earned, easily spent money was worth it. Sam was the least modest of the two and quite aware of the visual effect on me of what little underwear she often wore, especially when her mother wasn’t there to chastise her.
“You’ll be giving your dad feelings her shouldn’t have,” was a phrase I often heard when Elaine was home.
“Oh mum! Don’t be such a prude,” was Sam’s stock reply.
“We’re just going to freshen up and then you can have some peace again,” said Sam, almost reading my thoughts and implying they’d be going out again.
With that, they wheeled their suitcases into the lounge. When I last saw the suitcases they were tidily packed. Now both looked as if clothes had just been heaped in a jumble. Clothes came quickly out, just strewn over the carpet. They knew full well that mum would wash, iron and tidily return each item where it belonged. Being twins, clothes were often shared, but Elaine knew exactly whose were which, and where each item could be easily found when needed.
Essentials having been retrieved, both girls went upstairs to the shower room. The shower cubicle was easily large enough for them both and joint showering was often done when time was short. Many times I had sat, wondering and fantasising if each washed the other and if their soaped breasts were sometimes rubbed against each other. Today was no different – I had nothing to do but close my eyes and imagine them there.
It had been a long time since Elaine and I had showered together. In our first, rented, home together it used to be fun, both of us with closed eyes, stood under an unpredictable and often lukewarm spray or splutter of water. Cheap chain store soap, we couldn’t afford nilüfer escort anything else, and a small square cubicle offering little room and forcing us closer together. Soft wet skin against soapy companion, Elaine’s then firm breasts gently pressing against my back, her fingers gently exploring more than cleaning. Her soapy fingers would run slowly down my chest, nipples, and stomach, arriving teasingly close to my engorged cock but abruptly stopping, retracing their path time and time again. Finally her fingers reached my hardness, coaxing it little by little until that point of no return. And then we swapped, me seeking her every crease and curve, teasing her nipples, her deep, shaved smooth groove, her clit. My slippery fingers weren’t quite as skilled then. But Elaine showed me, taught me how to make her shiver in orgasmic delight. We stood there, lost in our own world of pleasure, until all the pre-heated water ran out.
Now, of course, we were able to afford better. I had ripped out the old cast iron bath in our present house, the mouldy wall tiles, the cheap plastic-tiled floor. I had gutted the bathroom, prepared the refurb and, with the help of a couple of friends, installed the new shower suite.
I could hear the girls chattering away. Both natural blondes, shoulder length hair, blue eyes, both of similar curvy build, a pair of cute rounded butts, long slim legs, skin smooth as the finest silk. Judging by the continual blunting of my disposable razors I hoped they would both be shaven smooth. Hadn’t yet seen, but my imagination had always hoped they were. Despite Elaine lecturing, at times they seemed oblivious to modesty. Never naked though, sometimes braless, buttons carelessly undone, a swift apology to me (!), often half dressed and once or twice just in panties, hunting for a blouse which was waiting to be ironed. Do other daughters iron clothes whilst topless?
“Are you going to ring him then?” I heard Karen ask her sister.
“Fuck off! He only wanted to shag me senseless.” Sam replied.
“Well you did get your tits out several times when he dared you. And OMG his cock must have been the biggest in town.”
“Yeah when I’d had far too much to drink.”
“Nope. You remembered enough to exchange phone numbers.”
“Well he can ring me.”
A short pause.
“No. Stop that Karen. Not there! Karen!”
“You let Simon do that.”
“Is this where his fingers went? Feels good, doesn’t it Sam?”
I could hear their conversation clearly now. Perhaps they hadn’t shut the door properly. Coming out of my reverie my eyes went to both suitcases, open, the remainder of their clothes heaped in. I moved over, picking some up from the carpet, quickly sorting through all of them. I hated to think what Elaine thought to her carefully ironed, carefully laid out clothes now in a heap.
The scent was very pleasant. Dolce gradually, persistently, without me noticing at first. I rummaged again. Tiny, sexy, silky panties. The infused perfumes intermingled with one distinct smell – that of a young woman. The private, secret, musky smell. Intoxicating.
My thoughts were no longer inquisitive to their chatter. All my attention now was on the pale, creamy secretion where the thicker material met that enticing valley. Still damp, confined to the cramped suitcase and, knowing my daughters, the panties had never been put tidily into a hotel room drawer. Gusset pressed firmly to one of my daughter’s feminine juices, cameltoe? Oh yes, I loved cameltoe, even the mere image in my mind. I inhaled deeply. I felt intoxicated and unable to think of anything else but that scent. How I hated a dirty, crusty mess there. Untidy as they were, the twins would have showered at least each morning, and likely twice on some days. Clean, female-scented sexiness in those silky sheer panties.
My cock had grown hard, swollen to its fullest extent. I paused, feeling guilty, but there would be time later. I knew that later the girls would be going out to see their friends. I would have plenty of time before Elaine came home.
Then the giggling started. Inquisitive mode was engaged again. Slowly, quietly, I opened the lounge door. The chatter had stopped. I coild hear nothing except a low whirring noise of the bathroom extractor fan and the giggling. And then …
Then Sam’s voice very quietly. “Karen, careful!”
“Well keep still then.”
“It tickles. OK, I’ll try.” Then louder, “Be careful.”
“Oh shut up baby. I haven’t cut you yet have I?
“No, but … ”
“Oh shut up. I don’t HAVE to do this.”
By now I was sitting halfway up the stairs.
“I wish dad would change his razors more often. This is fuckin’ blunt.”
“Get a new one out. He won’t notice.”
“That’s better. Open up a bit then I don’t miss any.”
“Put türbanlı escort plenty of foam on then I don’t get a rash.”
“For fuck’s sake Sam. Quit moaning.”
Another longer pause.
“There. That’s better.” (Another pause).
“YES, Sam. You know you’re horny. And I’m horny too.”
“No. Not there … Karen! … KAREN! … Mmm. Oh! Yes, just a bit lower. Yes. There. Mmmm!”
Her voice had lowered to almost a whisper that I could barely hear. My curiosity got the better of me. I crept up the staircase. Surely a board would creak, but it didn’t. The door was open just a little. I gently eased the door open enough for me to see some of the shower cubicle. It was misted up but I could see enough of the two girls inside. One was knelt, Karen I presumed, her head close up to the top of Sam’s wide open legs, her pudenda, her pussy lips.
There were sighs, moans, whimpers even.
“Ah! Karen! Karen! Yes, there.”
Incomprehensible words. Guttural, sexual noises of pleasure. Sam leaned back, opening her legs wider, her cunt more freely available to allow her sister access to that most wonderful, most sexual place.
“I’m going to fuck you, sis. Fuck you with my tongue.” Seldom had I head Karen use such language. Sam’s breathing became deeper and I could see her welcome Karen’s lips and tongue. I really thought Sam was going to come when Karen suddenly stood up. She started very gently and painstakingly rubbing Sam’s back. Karen’s wet, soapy hands were now moving up and down, to sensually massage from neck to butt. And then her hands moved to Sam’s sides. She was slowly and deliberately tickling Sam’s sides, occasionally moving her hands up and around Sam’s breasts. It reminded me that Elaine used to be very sensitive there. I also knew that when I had gently touched, Elaine would softly moan. But that was years ago, in her teens, when her breasts were full and firm.
But Karen didn’t stop there. I could make out her hands moving underneath Sam’s breasts, moving upwards ever so slowly to fully cup her breasts, pausing just a little to resoap, each time up and down tweaking Sam’s nipples, squeezing and pinching, pulling and releasing, each mildly painful nip forcing Sam to focus her attention there. Sam’s protests had long since ceased and instead there were soft moans escaping her lips. She had completely submitted to her sister’s will.
Karen, always the more daring, the most forward of the two, knew exactly what she was doing, where and how she was touching. Her tongue had merely been the aperitif. Now, at the total command of Karen’s wet soapy hands I could imagine Sam’s pleasure being brought to the maximum . After all, Karen had amost the same body as her twin and, it seemed, a first hand knowledge of what felt good. Then Karen, soaping her own breasts, started rubbing up against her sister.
Lesbian sisters? I thought not. Each had their own parade of boyfriends, although when I gave the matter some thought, Sam always had a boy on tow. Karen perhaps occasionally … but I couldn’t remember the last time. When the phone rang for her, it was usually a girl.
I felt utter guilt as I watched. My cock, my best friend Peter had grown to maximum, threatening to burst the skin confining its engorged state. It felt it might have been made of the hardest steel. Even though I couldn’t see the girls clearly my brain was busy moving images from my eyes directly downstairs. It didn’t take long for Karen’s fingers to move down to Sam’s pubis, her pleasure garden. Sam seemed now to be willing her sister to complete her task, pushing hard against her sister’s fingers. Karen’s deliberate and insistent probing massage of Sam’s love button became faster and faster. She was now rubbing her whole body against Sam, thrusting, pushing, rubbing her sex against her ecstatic sister. This continued, but not for long, until Sam yelped with the sudden release of pure pleasure, radiating first from her clit, then rippling and tumbling down the whole of her young body. Loud moans of orgasmic bliss escaped Sam’s lips as her body reacted in the only way nature had programmed it to do. The warmth, the tingling in her tummy. The purest pleasure passing all the way down her body.
If the girls caught sight of me now I would have much explaining to do. In any case my cock was bursting, begging for some release, precum now oozing out. I went back downstairs and picked up the newspaper, in the hope it would calm down. Several minutes later I heard one of them come downstairs.
“Sorry, dad. I forgot my hairdryer.” Sam said as she opened the lounge door, without even a hint of embarrassment.
She had a bath towel tucked round her waist. Even though I’d seen her tits many times before, their perfection caused my cock to rise again, and it stood to attention in pure appreciation. 32c (I’d looked at the label one time) without the merest sign of droop, always brought pleasure to my eyes. Sam knew that, even taking her time to sift though the jumbled heap of clothes.
“Dad,” she began, turning round before the hairdyer had been retrieved, “I don’t suppose you could lend me £20 until I get to a cash machine?”
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