Mrs. Kowalcyzk's Cleavage

My next door neighbor, Mrs. Kowalczyk, always wore low-cut button-down blouses that were quite revealing, even when she worked outside in her yard or garden. There didn't seem to be a Mr. Kowalcyzk, or at least I saw no evidence of him in the couple of months since she moved in next door. But she had introduced herself as Mrs. Kowalcyzk, so that's what I always called her.

Before Mrs. Kowalcyzk had moved in, the property had sat vacant for several years and had gone quite wild. In the hope of seeing more of her cleavage, I began to help her out. We cleared underbrush, trimmed trees, dug weeds, turned over soil for flower beds, you name it, we did it. Working in her yard was hot, sweaty work, but whenever she bent over facing my direction, it was all worth it. I think she knew what I was doing, but whenever she would catch me looking, she would just smile her slow, sweet smile and wipe the dew from her forehead or push back her hair from her face, then go back about her work.

When I first started working with Mrs. Kowalcyzk, she had worn a brassiere while working in the yard, but at some point, she stopped wearing one. Whether that was to give me a better view of her breasts, or because it was simply too hot, I wasn't quite sure. But I do remember quite clearly the day when I got a look at her nipples. We were planting trees that day, and it fell to me to dig the holes for them. Not that I really minded, because I was young and strong and would have done just about anything for her at that point. She didn't stay with me the entire time I dug the holes, having other chores to do in the yard, but from time to time she came over with something for me to drink. After the holes were dug, we wrestled the trees out of my truck into the holes, which turned out to be quite a chore, as the root balls were quite heavy. Mrs. Kowalcyzk was surprisingly strong, however, and between the two of us we managed to get them in place. It was as we were kneeling on the ground, mounding the dirt into place on top of the second root ball, that I noticed an extra button had come undone on her shirt, giving me an unobstructed view of her breasts as they hung down and swayed with the movement of her body. At first I thought she wasn't aware of it, but her swift, surreptitious glance, followed by a flush in her cheeks suggested otherwise. But she didn't button herself up immediately, simply continued to work until the hole was properly covered, after which she casually turned away and almost absently buttoned her shirt.

I guess it was at this point that I realized I wasn't really getting away with anything, but rather was being allowed, even encouraged, to check her out. It seemed that Mrs. Kowalcyzk knew that I knew, because our relationship subtly changed, and once or twice, I even thought I caught her looking at me with a speculative gleam in her eye.

Mrs. Kowalcyzk's property consisted of about six acres, most of which was wooded. There was often a lot of yard waste to be dumped, and we always did this in a clearing about 100 yards into the woods. One afternoon, after we had dumped the last load from our wheelbarrows, Mrs. Kowalcyzk paused to take a look around. It was a quiet afternoon, and aside from the sounds of birds and insects, and surrounded as we were by woods on all sides, we might have been alone in the world.

'We did a lot of work, yes?' she asked. 'Yeah, we sure did,' I replied. We looked at each other for a moment in silence, and then she asked in a quiet voice, 'You like to look at me, yes?'

Embarrassed, I glanced down, nodded. 'Good, I like it when you look,' she said softly. Then, after a moment's hesitation, she came over to me and brushed my cock lightly with her fingertips. 'Can I?' she breathed, and I nodded wordlessly and dropped my shorts, letting my cock spring free. I heard her gasp in surprise, seeing my clean shaven cock. 'Where are your hairs? Oh, my,' she giggled. 'I never saw one without hairs.'

But if she was surprised, it didn't stop her for long. She gently caressed my bare balls with one hand, marvelling at how smooth they were, while lightly stroking my shaft with the other hand. After a moment, she stopped and produced a small bottle of baby lotion from her pocket (she later confessed she had come prepared) poured some over my cock, catching the excess in a cupped hand. I gasped in astonished pleasure as she liberally coated my cock with baby oil and began to stroke it up and down with a bit of a twisting motion. She placed the palm of her other hand on top of my cock head and rubbed it in a circular motion as her other hand reached the top of its stroke. The feel of her strong, calloused hands, slick with oil, slowly pumping my engorged cock was indescribably wonderful. She took her time, enjoying herself, enjoying me, patiently building up my orgasm until the pleasure became almost unbearable. My climax, when it finally arrived, was astonishing in its intensity as I squirted thin, beautiful arcs of cum an impressive distance onto the surrounding foliage and undergrowth. Each time I squirted, I could feel my load traveling up my shaft and exploding from my cock head, then falling on leaves and bushes with a light pattering sound, like rain. It was quite satisfying, once I was finished squirting, to look around and see white drops of cum scattered everywhere for quite a considerable distance.

This became our routine throughout the rest of the summer. On days I helped her in the yard, we worked hard, getting hot and sweaty, and then at some point found ourselves in the secluded clearing where I would remove my clothes and she would jack me off with her lovely stroking/twisting technique that always had me shooting loads. It seemed as long as there was work for me to do, Mrs. Kowalcyzk was willing to continue jacking me off, perhaps as a payment of sorts. But winter came and we drifted apart, and eventually she moved, despite all the hard work we put into her place. Though it's been a couple of years, I still miss her strong hands and think of her when I'm jacking off.