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Tabitha wandered the neighborhood block party with no real motivation. She smacked her lips with the tang of the chicken she’d just eaten. The beer in her hand was still cold though the hot afternoon was pricking at it. Sweat rolled down her neck and into the tight white supergirl tee she had over a black sports bra. Her snug shorts were basically painted on to her fine ass.

She felt eyes on her as she moved through the sparse crowd. She’d been gone for a few years now at college, and the time had been kind. It was nice to be noticed, and she new the people in this crowd would stay polite unless one of the dad’s friends had a little too much to drink. Luckily there were plenty of mom’s around to keep them in line.

Tabitha saw her own mother, Sarah, leading a gaggle of hens. She strode over to them.

“Hi mom! How’s things in the neighborhood?”

“Oh, Tabitha. I wasn’t sure you were going to make it. Ladies you know my youngest. Tiff we were just about to get to a bit of gossip? Still want to stick around?”

“Oh hell yeah. What have I missed?”

For the next few minutes Tabitha basked in the warm glow of the myriad of ins and outs. Who was sleeping with who. Whose wife knew and whose was still in the dark. Even better were the swaps. Her little neighborhood had always been close, but it hadn’t been until she was in high school that she knew just how close everyone got. Her mother was the one that usually made sure that most things stayed in private where it needed to, and she spread the rest around to whomever was willing to listen.

In the midst of regaling them with the exploits of the nanny across the street, she pulled up short and gave a shy little point across the street where a group of men were all standing around a keg rather obviously doing their best not to say anything to each other. The awkwardness was centered around one man in particular.

“Oh, it’s Mr. Smithson. That poor man. They just moved into the neighborhood not six months ago. Never really got…introduced to everyone. And of course his wife, well we hardly ever saw her at all. I spoke to her a few times. Wonderfully kind woman. So kind…such a shame. Fuck cancer, ya know?”

All the women in the little huddle sighed and, Tabitha noticed, a few of those sighs were more longing then condolences. Her mother chief among them.

Mr. Smithson, for his part, seemed to be oblivious to the attention he was drawing. A full beard around a thick chin sat under a neat hair cut. He was a sturdy looking man with a noticeable gut and thick arms. There was a bandage half covered by the black tee he was wearing above a set of relaxed fit jeans. Tabitha chuckled.

“Mom, really. He’s not so impressive. Isn’t he kind of fat.”

Shocked gasps tittered around the little group.

“Honestly, Tabitha. Haven’t you found a real man at that college of yours? One of these days you’ll have to put the thin little boy toys you pick up aside and find some real meat to keep at home.”

“Mom!”

“I mean honestly. What do you think your father looked like when I decided to marry him? Like some GQ model all flat abs and hard muscle?” She fanned herself at the image she’d created. “I mean, certainly I’d had my fill. But when you want to settle down, the vanity that kind of man-child requires is absolutely tiring. But a well put together fella like that? Well, he just makes things easy.”

Something caught Mr. Smithson’s attention and he looked over to Tabitha and the group. Every eye in the gaggle was looking somewhere else except for Tabitha and her mother who both sprouted identical smiles.

Sarah raised a hand to him, “Hi, Dan. So nice to see you! Glad you came out.”

He trotted over after gesturing a goodbye to the men he’d been standing around with.

“Hi. Mrs. Henderson. Ladies.”

“Hi, Dan.” The ladies somehow managed it in unison.

Tabitha stuck out her hand. “Hi. I’m Tabitha Henderson.” He took it in a sure grip.

“Yeah. I can see the resemblance. Nice to meet you.”

In that moment, she was surprised how absolutely certain she was that this man was not attracted to her. His eyes didn’t slide down her body, over her firm tits under her tight shirt. He wasn’t interested in the tight stomach exposed by the end of her supergirl tee. She knew that if she turned around he’d have no idea just how tight her little shorts were clinging to her well toned ass. It was…well, she hated it.

Mr. Smithson turned to her mother, and said, “I just popped out to say my hellos and have a beer. Your husband was kind enough to offer both. Gots lot to do around the house. Be seeing you around ladies.” And without another word he turned and left, and Tabitha couldn’t help herself but linger on his body as he walked away. The ladies sighed again in unison as he got out of earshot.

“That man is in need of consolation. A long night of consolation. Such a shame.”

Murmurs of agreement spread through the little group.

“Mom, that’s a little sick, huh? I mean his eryaman eve gelen escort wife died, if I’m following what you’ve been saying. A rebound is something I’d prescribe for a bad break up not a dead spouse.”

Sarah looked at her daughter, her face serious. “We never know what we need. But I can tell you that man just wants to hold someone again. Anyone, since he can’t hold the one he wants.”

The block party seemed not to be as fun after that little encounter. Tabitha stuck by her mom and every so often she would sneak a glance to the little yellow house on the corner, where Mr. Smithson had disappeared into.

In the days that followed Tabitha lounged around at home, and the somber mood of the end of the block party seemed to follow her around. Eventually, her mother had enough and she shooed her out of the house to find something to get her out of whatever funk had infected her.

She drove around for a while, windows open and blowing her blonde hair every which way, and the music blaring into the neighborhood. Aimless and full of energy, she spied a park on the end of the street where Lane Parkway ended at a left turn that turned into Warrior Road. She parked on the street and ran out into the park. She climbed to the top of the park equipment and stared out at her quaint little neighborhood. The sun was starting to go down, so the shadows were long. Her shadow waved at her from across the street, on the sidewalk in front of a little yellow house. She felt an itch in her feet, and before she knew it she was across the street standing in front of the door.

“What am I doing?”

“I was wondering that myself.” Mr. Smithson came around the side of the house. His shirt was dripping wet and the hose in his hand was bathing the front garden in a shower of water. He looked back and froth between her and the garden, still not paying her any real mind.

“Oh, Mr. Smithson, hi! My mom sent me out of the house to find something to keep me occupied and I thought maybe you could use some help around the place and keep me occupied…”

Mr. Smithson grunted something and released the sprayer. He looked around the yard, frowning. Again, she felt that feeling of being ignored. She’d not intentionally dressed unsexy but as he searched the yard for something for her to do, she looked down at herself.

She was in a high wasted pair of jeans in a white crop top covered up by an unbuttoned button down. It wasn’t high class or something, but she was fucking sexy as hell.

Mr. Smithson looked back over at her and said, “Well. I’m not sure that there’s too much left for today, but if you want to pull all the plants from the pots on the back porch that would help. There’s a trash can with a big red x on it for garden waste that you can put all those dead plants into. I’ll be done up here in a bit and I’ll come help you.”

He turned back to the garden without a second thought and it was like she ceased to exist for him.

She went back to the other side of the house and went to work. Looking at the collection of flowers, now dead in their pots, she put together a very sad story. It was obvious that these were all flowers that had been sent to the house from various people, but all for the same sad reason. Pots that were too big for the house, but not quite big enough to be outside on this patio. It was clear that someone had made an attempt at getting them through the summer, but it was a losing battle. Most of these plants were cuttings and species that were never going to last long. An extra sad circumstance to give someone something destined not to last long after the loss of someone important.

When Mr. Smithson came around to the back where she was, she was all done. The plants were pulled and all the used up soil was in the bin. Mr. Smithson didn’t say a word. He walked right past her and went into the back door of the house. She stood around for a few minutes and then turned to go when the back door opened again. Mr. Smithson was drinking a beer, or at least something in a dark bottle. Without a word he handed her one.

It was still hot, as summer was waning, but not done, and the little bit of work she’d done here had given her a small bit of sweat. Feeling daring she put the bottle around her neck first and stretched her back. He simply tipped back his own beer and surveyed the back lawn.

“Thanks. I appreciate you coming over. Tabitha, right?”

“Yeah, that’s me. Tabitha Henderson, we met at the block party.”

“Yeah, your mom is Sarah. She’s a good women. Weren’t too many that got to even talk to my wife, Evelyn. But she was one that took time to come and see her when she got really sick. I think she brought over some Italian food. Will you thank her for me?”

“Oh sure. I’m sorry I didn’t get to…I mean I was at college.”

He turned, and for a moment she thought he saw her. Really saw her, his hazel eyes drinking her in for the first time. But then he turned back to the house, and she could hear a bala escort tremble in his thick deep voice.

“She was the best. The best part of me.” They stood for a while. Just drinking beer and looking up at the darkening sky.

When she was done he took the bottle from her without a word. She put a hand on his arm and looked up into those hazel eyes. She wanted to be seen again, but there was nothing there again except for the eyes of a very tired and sad man.

She went home and told her mom all about it. Sarah commended her for helping him, but consoled her to give Mr. Smithson, Dan, some space.

“I don’t know what you expect to do. It’s best in these situations to let people have their solitude until they are ready to socialize again. Don’t try and force it for goodness sake.”

“Yeah, ok mom.”

So it was something of a surprise herself when she was sneaking on to Mr. Smithson’s property with an armful of summer flowers and a bag of fresh soil in the middle of the night. She’d decided that she would do something for him without telling him. A surprise he could chalk up to a mystery. She would plant these flowers that would at least last the rest of the summer with only a bit of water.

She was half way though her little surprise, dirt all over her same outfit from the earlier evening, when the lights went on in the house. A huge set of windows covered this back side of the house. She could see that the light was from an absolutely massive TV setup over a fire place. The big windows were at such an angle that she could see most of the room, but unless Mr. Smithson turned around and looked out the window he was unlikely to see her.

So she quickly finished her work. She was sweaty and dirty when she was done. She looked to the house and wished that she could clean up inside, instead of trying to sneak back into her house, so she didn’t have to explain herself to her nosy mom.

But as she was leaving, she saw a garden hose attached to the house just next to the big windows. After a moment of hesitation, she snuck over the to the hose and started feeling around in the dark for the end of the hose.

As she found the hose, she glanced over to the window, and dropped it in shock.

Sitting naked on a big white couch was Mr. Smithson, stroking his cock. The thick piece of meat was a hefty rod with an angry red head. Mr. Smithson was languidly stroking it, occasionally he would bounce it against his gut. Her hand involuntarily reached out to the glass.

From a heavy set of balls there was at least ten inches of dick that nearly touched his generous belly button. Jesus, her mouth was actually watering. She’d been home for two weeks, and was feeling more then a bit horny here on her own.

Even so, she surprised herself as her fingers grazed her nipples over her shirt. Watching his thick muscled arms flex as his hand massaged the glans at the top of his dick made her squirm. She undid the button of her jeans and slid a hand down her panties. The wetness there was covering her fingers after a few moments of rubbing at herself. Her other hand slid under her shirt and she teased her nipples with her fingernails, scraping slightly at the sensitive tips of her breasts. She was looking over his shoulder as he watched TV, the movie he was watching showing a bare chested man laying some simple country girl into a bale of hay. Her naïve face looking up at him.

Tabitha worked on her own pleasure while watching Mr. Smithson work on his. She licked her lips watching that fat meat get stroked and teased. She could tell that he wasn’t that interested in getting off. Probably just wanking it cause he was bored. But she was quickly feeling that fun tingle running up her spine and down into her legs, which were already starting to shake, as she sped up her rubbing of her mound. She sniffled a whimper with a hand over her mouth leaving her exposed nipple to harden in the chill night air. Her wetness smacked and slurped and she finally penetrated her self, flexing her hips to get her fingers deeper, searching for the perfect spot.

But just as she was cresting something clicked just below her where the hose connected to the house. Her orgasm hit her just as the sprinklers popped up out of the yard and the nearby garden, soaking her in less then a second. She screamed and squirmed as the freezing water hit her from all directions. She backed up into the side of the house and fell on her butt just as Mr. Smithson came running out into the yard. He ran right past her as he searched the yard for the source of her scream. She straightened her self as best she could and quickly buttoned back her pants.

“Hi. Mr. Smithson. Over here.”

He was standing there in only a towel, not really suited for the role of covering him up completely. As he turned she could see the length of a well muscled thigh as he tried to hold onto the towel. His arms were thick and muscled also. It was clear that he worked out, but just his sagging middle was the only part etimesgut escort of him that seemed incongruous to the rest. A well put together man, just as her mother had said.

“What the hell? Who the hell are you? What are you doing on my property?”

“Sorry, Mr. Smithson. I’m Tabitha. Remember we met at the cookout a little while back and I helped with he gardening a couple days ago?”

“Oh yeah. You’re Sarah’s girl. What are you going in my back yard in the middle of the night?”

“Oh, I was just setting up some flowers for you. Something I thought would be easier to take care of and you wouldn’t have those empty pots while you’re still…” She trailed off deciding not say what was unnecessary. But he filled in the blank for her.

“Grieving. Yeah.”

He looked over at the flowers she’d set up. They were glistening with the fresh water from the sprinklers that had quickly finished their spray as Mr. Smithson had come out into the yard.

“Huh. Well that’s pretty nice of you. Guess you got surprised by the sprinklers? Sorry about that. I usually set them to go off at night. When the water hits the windows it reminds me to go to bed. I heard you shriek and thought someone was getting murdered out here or something.”

“It was hardly a shriek. I barely yelped.”

He laughed at her. A low rumble that shook his belly.

“Well you’re soaked. Why don’t you come inside and we’ll dry your clothes and get you on your way.”

She didn’t hesitate. “Sure. Thanks.”

He opened the back door and gestured for her to come in. She squeezed past him and she smelled sex on him. That sweaty manly musk of testosterone and adrenaline. She pulled her shirt down lower as she past but the wet material pulled at her nipples as they hardened again.

Inside he led her back to the master bedroom where a large closet held a lot of clothing and a washer and drier. Several hampers were next to the machine, full of clothing, and more clothes were stacked up on the ground around them.

He scrubbed a hand through his hair as he said, “I’m sorry about the mess. The drier’s empty so you can throw your clothes in there.”

“Oh ok. Thanks Mr. Smithson. Umm, what should I do in the mean time?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, when my clothes are in there, I’ll be…”

“Oh right! Well just help yourself to whatever is back here. Or you can grab a blanket or something, or just curl up in the bed while you wait. Guess I’m a bit underdressed also. I’ll grab some sweatpants and stay up front while you get yourself dry. Uh, the bathroom is right over there if you need it for something.”

“Sure. Thanks again Mr. Smithson and sorry for the trouble.”

He reached across her and pulled a pair of sweatpants from a pile of clothes just behind her. As he straightened up she thought he sniffed at the air around her, and she wondered if she too, smelled of sex. Her fingers must smell of pussy, and she hoped…well honestly she wasn’t sure what she really wanted.

When he was gone and she heard the TV start back up, she stripped off her wet clothes and put them in the dryer. She had been truly soaked, so even her panties had been drenched. Standing there naked she pulled a towel from a shelf and began to rub at her chilly skin. Her nipples were achingly hard and the soft fluffy towel made her body tingle as she got dry and a little warmer.

The dryer was set to run for at least forty-five minutes, assuming one cycle was all that it took to get her things dry. She thought about wrapping the towel around herself and sitting on the bed but it seemed weird to be naked and in Mr. Smithson’s bed in the middle of the night. Well- it would be awesome if he was at all interested in her, but he’d been pretty obviously not, so yeah it was gonna be weird. Instead she grabbed a pair of sweatpants and a sweater that seemed about her size and went out to sit with Mr. Smithson in the living room.

The sex scene was gone but it seemed like the same movie was playing.

“Thanks again, Mr. Smithson. And I’m sorry again too.”

“Yeah no problem. It’ll probably be like an hour to get your things dry and toasty. So why don’t you sit down and we’ll find something to watch.”

“Oh whatever your watching is fine. Anything to pass the time. I…uh I saw you were watching this earlier right.”

“You saw that, huh? I guess you saw…”

“Ha ha, yeah I did. Sorry. I didn’t mean to peep.”

Mr. Smithson ran a hand across the back of his head. “Well that’s embarrassing. Probably shouldn’t be exposing myself to this big bay window.”

“No! That’s my fault. I’m sure there’s never anyone looking back here at night usually.”

They both laughed awkwardly. A few minutes passed and they watched the show in silence until the protagonist, a burly Scotsman leading some kind of rebellion against somebody, cornered a barmaid and convinced her to come up to his room in the inn. Around the time the camera showed her naked back as she writhed around on the big burly man, Mr. Smithson cleared his throat and shifted on the couch. Tabitha looked over to see that big cock trying to force it’s way up and out of his sweatpants.

He turned to look at her and shifted more on the couch trying to put that ten inches down the leg of his sweatpants.

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