The Neighbor

My neighbor Darlene has always been one of the best neighbors one could hope for. I had known Darlene for years as a secretary in the Honors Program at the University, and had been quite surprised to discover when she moved in next door to me.
Back then Darlene had been the proud possessor of a body to die for. She had been blessed by nature with perhaps the most beautiful and bountiful breasts I had ever seen on a small (about 5’3”) slender woman. It was always a pleasure to observe her large nipples stand up and salute through whatever blouse she was wearing during our conversations over the low wall separating our houses.
Sadly, this sweet and supportive young woman made many mistakes in her choice of men. After some years, she gave up entirely, and directed her affections largely to her two dogs and five cats. I am a cat fancier myself, always with a kitty or two around, which Darlene is always happy to feed, cuddle, and spoil when I’m out of town or late coming home from work. She has put on considerable weight, and her breasts have lost a bit of their perk, but she’s still a very attractive woman with her blue eyes, fair skin, reddish hair, and scrumptious chest.
As a younger woman, Darlene had seemed to be a chronic complainer, so was not attractive to me as a potential mate. We have always had our pets in common, and have spent many an afternoon or evening visit discussing the trials and tribulations of living with them, always while carrying on a mild flirtation.
Darlene also has always had the habit of making joking references of not being able to make it to the bathroom in time. I’m not sure if she intuited my interest in this subject area, though I expect somehow she had.
One night recently I came home fairly late, and Darlene was pulling into her carport in her Honda SUV. She was wearing a red and white floral print dress that made her look as alluring as the day I met her. Getting closer, I saw that she was unloading some groceries, so walked over to offer my help. “No, I’ve got it alright, but thanks,” she said, and began hauling grocery bags from her SUV to her house. I picked up a couple of bags and walked to her door, just to be helpful.
When we got to her door, Darlene started fumbling in her handbag and exclaimed, “Oh, darn, I can’t find my house keys! And I have got to goooooooooo!” Before I could offer her the benefit of my bathroom, she turned to me, bent her legs slightly, and began pouring a waterfall of urine from under her skirt. Her pee clattered noisily on her walkway, and totally soaked the skirt around her bottom as well. The hissing sound her wetting produced seemed almost loud enough to wake the neighbors on the other side of her house.
For what seemed like an eternity, at least two or three minutes, the pee poured from her skirt as Darlene stood there motionless. Then she reached into her bag and said, “Oh, here they are,” flashed me a distinctively wicked grin, opened her door, and hauled in the groceries. I hefted a couple of the bags through the door and, with a lame attempt at humor, commented, “Have a good night. Keep your powder dry.” I then proceeded, staggeringly, over to my house, seriously impeded by the raging hard–on in my pants.
When I got into my place, I walked over to the television to try and catch the evening news. I noticed that some of my videos were out of place, and the VCR was turned on. I popped the cassette out of the player to discover that it was one of my Debbie Ashton wetting videos. I then realized that when Darlene had come in to feed the kitties, she had uncovered one of my secrets. The little vixen had watched one of my pee vids and then acted out my fantasy!
Darlene and I have never made open sexual references to each other, and I imagine that will continue for a bit. But I suspect that our longstanding relationship as “friendly neighbors” may soon evolve into something much, much more interesting!
Sunchile