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Story: Mrs. Pear

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Just a dirty old man
Oct 2, 2005
BBW, BHM, Dining, Sex

Mrs. Pear

I never thought those stories were true until it happened to me.

I had arrived home one weekend from college, to find a note on the fridge. My folks had decided to go out of town to celebrate my father's promotion, and it left me alone in the house until Monday.

The memories of all nighter-parties, like I had done back in my high school days came to mind, but all my friends had gone their separate ways, and I'd hadn't seem them since. Dejectedly, I went outside to get the few remaining things out of my car. As I was pulling my dirty laundry out of the back of the car, I heard a familiar voice.

"Well, look who's back for the weekend!"

It was the voice of the next door neighbor, Mrs. Pear. Her voice brought back visions of the buxom woman next door, the subject of many afternoon fantasies as I spied on her naked sunbathing in the backyard, or those late nights when I peeped into her bedroom window. With those images in my mind, I turned around.

"Hello, Mrs... Pear..."

My voice trailed off. I tried in vain to hide my surprise. I hadn't seen her in years. Before me stood a gorgeous middle-aged strawberry-blonde big beautiful woman. If not for her voice, I would not have recognized her. Her full figure of the past was added upon, and the additional weight finally fit her name. She was definitely a pear now. If she knew that I didn't recognize her, she didn't show it. She walked right up to me, and gave me a big motherly hug.

"Oh it’s so good to see you!"

I chuckled and mumbled something like "Its good to see you too."

Here was a good friend of the family, and my hormones were going off like smoke alarms and fireworks. Her smell of her hair was invigorating, her arms were soft and fat and those big breasts were pressed into me. I returned the embrace, and it seemed to last just a little longer than I was comfortable with. As she pulled back from me, I saw a renewed sparkle in those baby blues, and new color in her cheeks.

"Look at you..", Mrs. Pear said to me, and she stood back, and checked me out.

Her words were inevitable. My Mom always greeted me first, and then said something about my weight gain. Sure, I was putting on a few pounds. A knee injury in my last year of high school football ended my career as a quarterback. Luckily, I had my academics to lean back on. With my lack of my former exercise program, coupled with my unchanging appetite had added a spare tire or two to my belly. I waited for Mrs. Pear's criticism. My ears heard something different.

"Have you had dinner?"

"No, “I replied. "I just got home and..."

She shushed me. "I know, they're both out of town. They left a key with me to check on things. I was going to order pizza, and when I saw your car, I wondered if you would like to come join me for dinner."

Dinner with the divorced lady next door. I didn't need a calculator to add these numbers up. But my sudden lust for this fantasy of fat fantasies was just too much to pass up. I picked up my things to take into the house, and smiled, "That would be great."

When I came back outside, Mrs. Pear wasn't next to my car where I had left her. I wondered if I had dreamed the encounter. I walked to the edge of the driveway, and saw that her back gate was partially open. I walked up to the wooden gate, and pushed it further. It had to be the loudest creakiest gate in the history of the world. Those nights sneaking into her backyard almost ended that this stupid gate.

As I entered the yard, I saw Mrs. Pear moving a sprinkler. She had removed her shoes, rolled up her pants and was walking barefoot on the wet lawn. The skin of her calves and cankles glistened in the afternoon sun. My heart jumped a beat or two. I walked thru the yard, taking in the smell of the pines that bordered the yard. I glanced at the spot in the hedge where I stood countless minutes waiting for a peepshow. I continued towards the back porch where Mrs. Pear stood. I couldn't remember her first name.

I got to the porch, and our eyes met. I'm not sure what my face was broadcasting to the world, but her face looked sad, worried, and full of guilt.

"I shouldn't be...” she tried to say.

I took her hands in mine, and looked into those beautiful blue eyes. Somewhere in the dusty corners of my mind, I remembered her name. "Cheryl... I would love to spend the evening with you." I leaned forward, and in that moment, with the whirr-whip sounds of the sprinkler lawn tractor and the ringing bells of the wind chimes... I kissed Cheryl first sweetly, and then, very passionately.

End of Part One

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