Neighbour’s Forbidden Touch: 1

Lawn Mower and Late-Day Heat💦💧🫦

“You’re doing it wrong.”

I stepped out onto the back porch with a glass of iced tea, bare feet on the warm wood. Cole looked up from the lawn mower, sweat already darkening the front of his gray T-shirt. Twenty-three. Tall. Tattoos down one arm. The kind of smile that made divorced women forget they were supposed to be careful.

“Am I?” he asked, wiping his forehead with the back of his wrist. “Looks fine to me.”

“You’re cutting too close to the flower beds. I just replanted those.”

He shut the mower off. The sudden quiet felt heavy. Late-afternoon sun turned the grass gold. My tank top stuck to my skin from the heat. I should have gone back inside. Instead I walked down the steps and handed him the glass.

Cole took it, drank half in one go, then looked at me over the rim. “Are you always this bossy with the help, Lena?”

“Only when the help doesn’t listen.”

He grinned, set the glass on the porch rail, and stepped closer. Close enough that I could smell cut grass and clean sweat. “Maybe I listen better when the instructions are clearer.”

I crossed my arms. “Stay away from the roses. Finish the back before dark. That’s clear enough.”

“Clear.” His eyes dropped to my bare legs, then back up. “You always walk around in shorts that short when someone’s working your yard?”

Heat crawled up my neck that had nothing to do with the sun. “They’re just shorts.”

“They’re a problem.” He reached past me for the glass again, arm brushing my waist. “I’ve been hard since you came outside.”

I should have stepped back. Told him to pack up and leave. Instead I stood there while his fingers traced the edge of my shorts, just under the hem.

“Cole…”

“Tell me to stop and I will.” His voice dropped. “But you won’t. You’ve been watching me all week from that kitchen window.”

My breath caught. He was right. Every time he bent to pull weeds or wipe sweat from his neck I found an excuse to stay at the sink.

His hand slid higher, palm against the bare skin of my thigh. “No one’s home. Fence is high enough. You gonna keep pretending you don’t want this?”

I opened my mouth to say yes, I was going to pretend. What came out was a soft, broken sound when his fingers pushed under the shorts and found me already wet.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “Soaked. For the guy mowing your lawn.”

He turned me toward the wooden fence that separated my yard from the empty lot behind it. One hand pressed between my shoulder blades, bending me forward until my forearms rested on the top rail. The other yanked my shorts and panties down to mid-thigh.

“Cole, someone could…”

“No one can see.” He kicked my feet apart. “And I don’t care if they do.”

I heard his zipper. Then the thick head of his cock rubbed through my wetness. He pushed in slow, stretching me open inch by inch until he bottomed out. We both groaned.

“Jesus, Lena.” His hands gripped my hips. “Tight little divorced pussy taking the neighbor kid’s cock like it was made for it.”

I pushed back against him, already lost. “Harder.”

He gave me harder. Deep, steady strokes that made the fence creak. One hand slid around and rubbed my clit in tight circles. The wet sound of him fucking me mixed with the distant hum of someone else’s mower two houses down.

“You gonna come on my cock out here in the open?” he asked, voice rough. “Right where anyone walking the alley could look over and see Mrs. next-door getting ruined?”

“Yes…” The word tore out of me. The orgasm hit fast and dirty. I bit my arm to stay quiet, shaking as I clenched around him.

Cole didn’t stop. He fucked me through it, then pulled out, spun me around, and lifted me so my back hit the fence. My legs wrapped around his waist. He thrust back in, deeper this way, and kissed me hard enough to bruise.

“Look at me while I fill you,” he ordered.

I did. His dark eyes stayed locked on mine as his rhythm turned rough and desperate. He came with a low groan, pulsing deep inside me. Hot. Thick. I felt every spurt.

We stayed locked together, breathing hard, the fence digging into my back. His forehead rested against mine.

Then a voice called from the front of the house.

“Lena? You home? I brought the mail that got mixed up again.”

Mrs. Carter. The elderly woman two doors down who never knocked, just walked around the side if she thought you were in the yard.

Cole’s cock was still inside me. Cum was already leaking out around him. My shorts were around my thighs.

I whispered, “Don’t move.”

He didn’t. He just smirked, slow and filthy, and rolled his hips once so I felt him still hard.

Mrs. Carter’s footsteps came closer along the side path.

“Lena? I can hear the mower was running. You out back?”

Cole leaned in and spoke against my ear, soft enough only I could hear.

“Better answer her, Mummy. Or she’s about to get an education.”

I opened my mouth, heart slamming, his cum sliding down my thigh, the neighbor’s voice only a few feet from the corner of the fence.