Meet the neighbors

As we drove into the driveway to our new home, we immediately caught the attention of our next door neighbor. He leaned over the fence as we got out of the car, and said: “Well, hello there! Welcome to the PrivateGood Estates! How are you guys doing? Did you have a good trip? “

Even though he addressed the entire family, his focus was entirely on me. Without any shame, he eyed my body from the top of my skull to the tips of my toes, then just went back up again. I was a bit embarrassed because I had to bend over to get the luggage from the trunk, but I didn’t want him to notice I was uneasy so I bent over anyway, even though I knew it displayed my ass to him in the most curvaceous way.

Dad walked over to the fence, and started a conversation with him. The guy was called Fred, and he had some trouble disconnecting his drooly look from my body to talk to dad. It gave me a chance to get inside, and not get involved in this “nicely talking to the new neighbor” thing. I kept watching them through the kitchen window though.

At one point, Fred raised his arm and waved to his own house. As if by magic, a woman appeared through the front door, and my jaw almost dropped. It wasn’t the fact that she was carrying a tray with lemon-colored drinks on them, probably meant to refresh the new neighbors after a long road trip. It was her appearance! She wore a dress in a shade of pink which would have destroyed the glaze on your teeth if it had been in a candy. Only the tiniest straps ran across the shoulders to the cups, which started only an inch above the nipples. The bodice had an extremely tight fitted waist, which was tied with a set of laces on the back for a maximum hourglass effect. The skirt was extremely short, only ending where her thighs had just begun; it would be impossible to bend over without exposing private parts. Several straps of a suspender belt poked out underneath and ran to a pair of fishnet stockings in the same glaring pink color.

But that was just the start of it. The heels of her shoes were over six inches high, but she was obviously experienced wearing them; it made her hips sway with an ooze of sexual invitation. The shoes ended in leather straps around her ankles, and there was a lock on each of them. _She can’t take them off herself!_, it flashed through my mind. She was wearing a collar around her neck and cuffs around her wrists, all in black leather with metal hoops in several places, dangling loose now. Her hair was tucked up, and she wore heavy makeup, also in a pink theme with black accents. In her mouth was a ball gag, strapped around her head with a buckle in the back.

She didn’t seem bothered at all with this extravagant outfit. She walked to the pair of talking men, in the seductive pace **** upon her by the heels, and offered them the tray. Dad looked a bit baffled when he took the glass, but Fred pretended (or actually felt?) that it was the most natural thing in the world. I pricked up my ears to listen to Fred saying: “This is my wife, Debbie. Quite a stunner, isn’t she? Well, I hope you can come around to our house soon and explore her possibilities a bit more!”

Even standing behind the kitchen window, over ten yards away, a chill ran down my spine.

My dad mumbled something inaudible, and Fred replied: “Yes, yes, sure thing! But Debbie, where are your manners? Go offer the girls a drink as well!”

Without any hesitation, Debbie walked off - not towards us, but towards the street. _There is no gate in the fence, so she has to go all the way to the road!_, I realized. The gardens were quite big, and she wiggled her hips all the thirty yards to the road; there she had to turn and walk another thirty yards to come to the start of our house’s driveway. She walked gracefully, the tray held on top of one hand, watched by Fred, my parents, and me, for every step of the way. A car passed by as she crossed the section of pavement along the road, and it honked to her; she smiled back without any visible inhibition and waived to it with her other hand. Another neighbor?

It seemed to take ages before she finally turned onto our driveway and came to the house. Both me and mom were indoors, watching the entire scene from the kitchen window. She didn’t bother to ring, apparently it was customary here to just open the door, and she came to the kitchen and offered us the drinks. Neither of us was able to speak, and she didn’t either; she just turned around and started walking that whole distance back, the tray held vertically at knee height now. For another two minutes all of us watched her gracious body in its sultry pace wiggle back to her own house and disappear through the door.