My Younger Neighbour Helen

I'm Mark, sixty-nine and retired, still quite physically and mentally active and don't really feel my age. My wife Fiona and I moved to our current and forever home two-and-a-half years ago. Neighbours are all pleasant enough, although we don't really socialise with them.

On the opposite side of the road, a couple of doors down, lives Helen. She lives alone with her shih-tzu dog, Rocco. I got to know her a bit from meeting her sometimes when walking my dog.

I guess you'd describe her physically as a blonde BBW with impressive assets. Her face is plain, but she has lovely green eyes and soft, full lips. She's generally cheerful. I'd put her age as mid-forties.

The brief chats we've had have just been small talk, but I learned she has a daughter. I later found out she is divorced.

After a year of living here, one November night, I was woken by someone knocking on our door. It was past midnight. I put on a dressing gown and went to answer it.

I opened the door, it was bitterly cold with a few flakes of early snow falling. Helen was stood there sobbing. Her shoulder-length blonde hair must have earlier been styled and stacked on her head. In places it was falling down, it resembled a collapsed haystack. Her mascara was running down her cheeks, one of which had a lurid red mark.

She wore no coat and looked like she had been partying. All she had on was a see-through, light-blue blouse revealing a lacy black bra underneath, her cold nipples forming pronounced bumps. She wore white capri pants, and one shoe, 'where was the other shoe?' I wondered.

In between sobs she was babbling incoherently and seemed a bit drunk, or perhaps she'd had her drink spiked? I thought she'd been attacked or mugged, she had no handbag.

'Come on, let's get you home where it's warm, then you can tell me what's happened.' I started to walk towards her house.

'Can't, no keys.' she spluttered, 'She's got them.'

I had no idea who 'she' was.

'Well come in here until we can sort this out, it's too cold to stand out here.' I went to put my arm around her, only to help her up the step. She recoiled away from me.

She had a look of shock on her face and her eyes were glassy. That reinforced my impression that she'd been attacked and was either drunk, or drugged.

I held my hands up, 'Hey, I just want to steady you, so you don't fall over on the step, you're a bit wobbly.'

She relented and let me help her. As she leant against me her ample, soft boob pressed against my arm. I led her into the lounge and settled her on the sofa. The view down her blouse was amazing, it had an effect on me.

'Shall I put the kettle on?' I asked. She nodded.

As I went to the kitchen Fiona was coming down the stairs, tying her dressing gown belt. She had a quizzical expression.

'It's Helen from across the road, I think she's been mugged or worse. I can't get much out of her at the moment. I'm making a drink and when she calms down we can find out what's happened and take it from there.'

'I'll make the drinks, you go sit with her.' Fiona said, with a pissed-off tone.

I didn't sit on the sofa with Helen, rather in a chair that was next to the sofa.

Helen started to apologise, but was still incoherent. 'Not yet.' I said, 'I can't understand you. Wait until you've calmed down. You're safe now, just try to relax.'

She nodded with a wan smile. Fiona put her head round the door to ask if she wanted tea or coffee and how she liked it.

By the time Helen had finished her coffee her ample chest had stopped heaving. That at least stopped me from being tempted to look at it. I was able to piece together some of what had happened.

She had been out, I didn't know where. A party, a club, or pub. Her daughter was with her. It was her daughter that had hit Helen. She'd driven her mother home, then she basically just kicked her mother out of the car and drove off. Her mother's handbag and one shoe still in the car.

Helen still kept breaking down and crying, still drunk, 'What daughter hits their mother?' she kept asking.

Then she said, 'She doesn't like me being here does she?' meaning Fiona, but she said it looking at me, not Fiona.

'Fiona's just tired, having been woken up at this godawful time.' I said.

Helen was right though, Fiona didn't like her being there, I could sense it.

I tried to find out where her daughter lived so I could drive her to get her handbag and shoe, but couldn't get an address out of her. In the end I had no option but to call the police to deal with it. Two female officers arrived and took Helen with them.

We returned to bed and I lay there thinking about the feel of Helen's boob on my arm, remembering the way they bounced when she sobbed and the tantalising view down her blouse. Those thoughts made me hard.

After the menopause Fiona lost all interest in sex. That aspect of our marriage is now non-existent. I on the other hand have not lost interest and take care of my needs with my hand. We've talked about it and Fiona knows that's what I do for release.

I love Fiona. but I'm not completely happy with our situation. If the roles were reversed, even if I couldn't perform, or I didn't feel like being intimate; I'm sure I'd do my best to see that her needs were still met. With my hands, or mouth.

I'd even consider a male escort, if there was no emotional involvement, and it was just physical. But who knows? I might not. Anyway, the roles aren't reversed, but I'm sure I wouldn't just withhold sexual favours in the way she has. So I think that deep down I do harbour some resentment.

From what little Helen said, I think a man of interest to her daughter was involved, husband, or boyfriend. Mum had done something to make daughter jealous, or the man in question was ogling mum, and daughter was pissed at the way mum was dressed.

A couple of days after that incident I was returning from a walk and I saw Helen approaching me as she started on her dog walk. I wondered if she'd turn around out of embarrassment and head home when she saw me. She didn't.

'I'm sorry about the other night...' she started to say. I noticed the red mark on her cheek was now a bruise.

I held up my hand, 'It's OK, I've come home much the worse for drink many times. I'm just glad you're OK.'

That's all that was said about that episode. We resumed to just talking about the weather, the dogs, and other mundane stuff in our brief chats. What did become different is that I found myself stealing glances at her ample bosom (and backward glances at her bum). I also started to get hard in her presence.

Roll on to a few weeks ago, a very warm night in June. Again, very early hours of the morning, and again, two police officers in our house. This time they had been called by Helen.

Recent events in the UK have eroded my trust in the police. So when they turned up on my doorstep with an allegation of me breaking and entering Helen's house, I wasn't inclined to answer their questions. Certainly not without a solicitor. After a series of, 'No comment.' responses, I found myself in a police cell awaiting a duty solicitor. Fiona was left distraught at home.

The solicitor arrived and first asked to have time alone with her client. She, a Ms. Wright, was an efficient-looking redhead in her thirties, business suit, no makeup, and looked like she had just been woken up.

She took down my details and asked me to tell her exactly what I'd already said to the police.

'That's easy. "No comment."' I replied.

'Good, because this is a serious allegation.' she said, opening her notebook, 'Tell me what happened.'

I went on to explain that as it was a hot night we were sleeping with the windows open. I was woken up just before midnight by a dog yapping. I expected it to stop, it didn't. Sometimes it did, but only for a minute or so, then it would start up again.

After about an hour of being kept awake by its yapping, I went to the window. It seemed to be coming from across the road and the only yappy dog on that side was Helen's dog, Rocco. I decided to pull on some clothes and go to see why it was outside barking.

It was Rocco, barking at the back door to be let in. When I picked it up it stopped barking and tried to lick me. I knocked on the door, but there was no answer. There were no lights showing at the front, nor at the side of the house. I went to the back of the house and there was a light, but the curtains were closed.

There was a small gap, I peered through. Helen was in an armchair with her back to me, I could see the top of her blonde head above the chair. I went back to the door and knocked again, very loudly. Still no answer. I tried the door, it was unlocked.

'So, no actual break-in.' said Ms. Wright as she was making notes.

I told her it was definitely unlocked and I opened the door and stepped inside. I closed the door, so the dog wouldn't run off, then I put the dog down. It ran into the kitchen. I called Helen's name and still had no response. I walked to that back room dreading what I might find.

I found her in the armchair with her eyes closed. On the table next to her was an empty wine bottle and a wine glass containing a small amount of wine. Thankfully there was no evidence of tablets in sight.

I called her name again. Even though I was stood directly in front of her I still had no response. I shook her shoulder, still no sign of her stirring.

What I didn't tell Ms. Wright is that Helen was only wearing a satin, peach-coloured dressing gown, and it was wide open. Her big breasts were fully exposed. She had light-brown, prominent nipples with large areolae. The movement of her boobs when I shook her was a sight to behold.

Her chunky legs were wide apart, her vulva and its sparse covering of blonde, damp, curly pubic hair was open to my gaze. Her inner lips were also visible, darker coloured and glistening. I was hard, very hard. I badly wanted to fuck her.

On the seat cushion between her legs was a small, pink vibrator. Dropped on the floor next to the chair was a paperback book, it looked like some steamy romance novel. I shook her again, part of me didn't want her to wake up. I wanted to watch her fantastic tits jiggle again, and take in more detail of her damp pussy and it's enticing sexual odour.

Instead what I did tell Ms Wright was the truth, in that the second time I shook her, Helen's eyes opened wide and she started screaming the house down.

I tried to explain to Helen why I was there and she just screamed, 'Get out! Get out of my house! I'm calling the police!'

'So when you returned her dog and saw she was asleep, why didn't you just leave quietly; instead of trying to wake her?'

'I didn't know she was just asleep. It could have been a medical emergency.'

'Fair enough.' she said, and added that to her notes, 'I think we're ready for them now.'

I also told Ms. Wright about the events in November. She noted those details down also. We then went into an interview room and Ms. Wright told them that we had prepared a statement and that no further questions would be answered; not until such time that they had evidence that an actual break-in had occurred. All they had was a good neighbour trying to help a drunken woman. This wasn't the first time either, if they checked their records for last November.

She suggested that they interview Helen Wilson with my statement in mind. We would come back to answer any discrepancies they found.

She read out the statement. I signed it and was free to go. I thanked Ms. Wright. She offered me a lift, as it was not out of her way. I declined, I wanted to walk and have time to think. Do I tell Fiona everything, or just tell her what I told the police?

It was obvious what had happened, Helen had let Rocco out. Then she went back to her book, jilling herself and drinking, then passed out in post-orgasmic bliss; leaving the dog outside.

I didn't think she told the police that I found her in that state. I decided I wouldn't tell Fiona the whole truth either.

Fiona was livid, she was all for going over the road and having it out with her. I calmed her down and persuaded her to leave it.

When the police gave Helen my account of events and she realised I hadn't told them everything, she was happy to let it drop. The police told me there would be no further action.

They were wrong. The first further action was that I went to my man-cave and edged my throbbing cock to the most mind-blowing orgasm I'd had in years. Helen's intimate, erotic exposure, the smell of her, everything about her; it fuelled my arousal.

During the next couple of days, just the thought of Helen made me hard. I wanked off a lot thinking about her. I needed to meet her again.

I was sure that if she was leaving home and she saw me coming the other way she'd turn around and head back home. I had to make sure we met as I was leaving home and she was returning. I doubted she'd turn and walk away from home again. I waited until I saw her leave, then I waited until she'd be starting to head back.

Sure enough, five minutes after setting off I saw her in the distance approaching. When we got closer she saw me, she paused; obviously weighing up her options. I continued walking and waved. She gave a small wave and carried on walking towards me.

I had no words planned, going with the flow seemed the best option. She was beetroot red.

There was an awkward silence and I broke it, 'Look, don't be embarrassed, we all do it.'

She just looked at me as if to say, 'What?'

'Have a bit too much to drink sometimes, and take care of personal needs.' I replied.

'And forget you've let the dog out.' she admitted, 'I'm sorry about calling the police, I didn't recognise it was you at first, I was so out of it. I was shocked and felt vulnerable.

'It wasn't until they asked me to describe the intruder I realised it was you. Thank you for not telling them how you found me.'

'No worries, I'm a gentleman.' (I did a mouth-zipping gesture), 'But tell me, how would you have reacted if you had recognised it was me?'

She blushed a deeper shade of red, and just said, 'I wouldn't have called the police. What must you think of me?'

That wasn't exactly answering my question. I'd asked how she would have reacted, not what she wouldn't have done. I didn't push it.

'What must I think of you? I think of you a lot. It's all good.' I then continued my walk, 'See you next time. Bye for now.'

'Bye.' she said, as I left her with something to wonder about on purpose.

She might be wondering if I meant next time she was naked, or next time we met walking; and what did I mean by I think of her a lot?

Both of us usually walked our dogs at random times, that being the case we only saw each other perhaps once a week. However, the following day I met her on my return home. It was unusual for us to meet two days in a row. She wasn't blushing, she looked excited.

She quickly turned the conversation around to that night, 'Did you tell anyone about what happened?'

'Only Fiona, but I didn't tell her exactly how I found you. Just that you were fast asleep and Rocco didn't wake you with his barking.'

'So you didn't tell her about the state I was in when you found me?'

'No, that's a cherished memory I'll keep to myself.'

'Why didn't you tell Fiona about that? I thought you would have.'

'It would cause me problems.'

'How?'

'She would know that I would probably have found it very arousing and think that I wouldn't be able to get that image of you out of my head. She'd be right on both counts.'

'Oh!' was all she said.

I again left her with something else to wonder about. I was achingly hard for her. I wondered what she was thinking.

When I returned home I took care of myself, imagining it was Helen stroking me, in the bushes just off the footpath. My mouth sucking one of her gorgeous, erect nipples.

The next day I again saw Helen approaching as I returned. Three days in a row? I knew then it was deliberate. She was watching for me leaving, then following on later; the same as I did when I wanted to meet her.

She was wearing an olive-green T-shirt that showed a lot of cleavage. Her tits looked amazing in it.

'Hello Mark.' she said, 'It's hot isn't it?'

I felt like saying something cheesy like, 'Yes, you should wear that T-shirt more often.' but I thought better of it. She did look hot though. I managed to look her in the eye, instead of talking to her boobs, 'Yes it is. but we need the exercise whatever the weather.'

'So you found it very arousing?'

'What?!' her direct question took me somewhat aback. She'd definitely been thinking about my parting words.

'When you saw me naked, you said Fiona would think you would "probably" have found it very arousing? Then you said she was correct.'

So, she had been mulling over what I'd said.

'Fiona and I have reached a time in our lives where our libidos are now very mismatched. Her's is non-existent.

'She know's that I relieve myself. If she knew I'd seen you naked like that, she would know it would be an image I would recall when pleasuring myself.

'I think she'd rather I were thinking about the times I had with her, rather than your naked body. What I saw of you is an alluring, erotic image I can't and don't want to get out of my head.'

It was Helen's turn to be taken aback.

'So have you thought about me, when you're...'

'Wanking?'

'Er..., yes?'

'Would it shock or disturb you if I said yes?'

She paused and averted her eyes, 'No.'

'In that case, yes I have. In fact I've thought about you every time I touch myself, at other times as well. Are you OK with that or does it creep you out?'

Again she paused, 'No I don't mind, it's actually flattering, and exciting, I've done it too, thinking about you.'

'And what exactly were you thinking about me?'

'You finding me, seeing me naked.'

She was still no longer looking at me as she spoke.

'What are we like?' I said, smiling at her, 'I like you Helen, I like you a lot.' I said as I walked towards home, again leaving her with something to think about.

'I really like you too Mark, bye.' she called after me. I thought I detected a hint of sadness that we were parting.

The walk we both take is a public footpath that follows a farm track. It then leaves the track and meanders through some bushes, it then skirts a grassy field that rarely contains livestock.

When there are no animals we let the dogs off and watch them from a bench. It was put there as a memorial to someone who loved that spot.

The following day I didn't turn around at the field, I sat on the bench and waited. I didn't have long to wait before Helen emerged from the bushes. It was thrilling to know she wanted to meet me.

As she approached she smiled, but I had the impression she was going to walk past me.

'Care to join me? It's a nice view over the valley from this bench.'

She didn't answer and just sat next to me watching the dogs running around.

I started the conversation, 'Since we've opened up to each other about some personal things, what exactly happened back in November?'

'Oh that?' she paused then went on, 'It was my daughter Sally's birthday party. It got off to a bad start when she came to pick me up. She didn't like the blouse I was wearing and I refused to get changed.

'At the party she kept glaring at me. She's expecting and not drinking, so she didn't get into a party mood. If she'd been drinking she'd have relaxed.

'I dressed like that so my shitty ex-husband could see what he's missing. He was there with the flat-chested cow he ran off with.

'As the night wore on I had too much to drink and Tom, Sally's fiancé, was being a bit flirty with me. I responded in kind with him. It was just for fun, nothing serious.

'I'd gone to the kitchen for a glass of water and Tom followed me. He grabbed me and tried to kiss me. He was feeling me up. I guess he wasn't getting any due to the pregnancy.