THE DILF NEXT DOOR (AGE GAP/ A FREE STORY) (PART ONE)

Tom Mathers mows his lawn shirtless every Saturday morning at ten-fifteen.

I’ve been watching him from my bedroom window almost religiously for about two years now.

I know he’s kind of a stickler for time because it’s every Saturday at ten-fifteen on the dot, give or take five minutes depending on how hot it is and whether he has plans with his kids or not.

This particular Saturday is scorching hot, and I mean heatwave from hell hot.

It’s the kind of heat and humidity that makes you feel lazy and listless and not have the energy to do anything.

So decided to do some sunbathing.

I’m sprawled on my back patio wearing the tiniest bikini (red because it’s my favourite colour) sipping at a nice refreshing glass of lemonade (that’s more water than lemonade because the ice I put into it has melted) with an open book on my stomach.

Not that I’ve read a single word of it.

Why?

Because Tom Mathers is mowing his lawn shirtless.

Who is Tom Mathers you might ask?

He’s my neighbour.

He’s forty-five, which may sound old when you’re twenty one but looks like a Greek God when he’s glistening with sweat and pushing a lawnmower. He’s built like an Olympic swimmer, tall with broad shoulders, a washboard stomach, abs for days and skin that turns bronze in the sun. His hair is cropped short with flecks of salt and pepper which I always think makes him look sexy and distinguished.

He’s a single dad with two kids — a boy and a girl, both under the age of ten.

They spend every other weekend with their mother which is a detail I probably shouldn’t know but do because I pay attention and I also listen.

And because I am extremely nosy.

To be honest, I’ve been paying attention since the day I moved in next door at nineteen, with a couple of room mates. I was fresh out of my parents’ house and trying to figure out how out what exactly I wanted out of life and he had waved at me from his driveway and teased me about some broken dishes.

I’ve been hooked since.

Two years.

Two years of watching him mow his lawn. Two years of imagining what it would be like to run my hands over that swimmers build chest, and grip those broad shoulders and have those dark, mesmerising stare into mine….

And I can’t even count the number of times I’ve been naked in my bed, or in the shower, or wherever and I had played with my pussy thinking about him licking me out, fucking me, making me cum over and over again until I begged him to stop.

Not that I would beg him to stop.

I’m not even interested in guys my age. As far as I’m concerned, they are immature boys who just want to fuck and ghost.

Not that the sex with them is great either. I need more than two pumps and a squirt.

I need a real man.

The lawnmower cuts off. I snap my eyes back to my book so fast I nearly give myself whiplash.

“Salinger?”

I look up to see Tom standing at the fence, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand, his chest still heaving from the mowing. Sweat is running down his stomach in rivulets that I have no business staring at.

A flush creeps up my face as I blink at him.

“Pardon?”

He glances downwards.

“Your book. Salinger? Franny and Zooey?”

I follow his gaze and stare at the cover of my book. “Oh. Yeah. It’s, uh — it’s good. Weird. But good.”

A smile lifts the corners of his mouth and my heart thuds faster.

“You’ve been on the same page for about forty minutes.”

My face goes even hotter and I feel exposed like the fraud I am and I shift uncomfortably.

“I’m a very slow reader.” I reply trying not to sound defensive.

He laugh and holds up his hands.

“Hey. I’m not here to judge” He pauses. “You want to come over for a swim? Pool’s finally warm enough.”

I gape at him. He’s never invited me to swim in his pool before. I can’t believe it! The amount of time I have fantasised being fucked in that pool…

“Your pool?” I stammer and he chuckles.

“No, the neighbour’s pool” he teases “Yes, my pool.”

I smile back.

So he’s got a sense of humour.

“Well, you are my neighbour” I reply before I can stop myself “I wasn’t sure if you meant some other neighbour’s pool. Maybe you’ve got a whole neighbourhood pool rotation going here.”

“Just the one pool.” He’s grinning now, a lopsided grin that makes him look ten years younger. Not that he looked old before “My kids are with their mother this weekend and I have the place to myself. I thought you might want a break from your extremely intense reading schedule.”

My stomach is doing flip flops now. I love a man I can banter with.

“Very funny” I’m grinning as well now. “The sun was in my eyes.”

“You’re facing away from the sun, Evie.”

Oooooh he’s ticking every box.

I wave a hand.

“Doesn’t mean it can’t see it” I cringe after saying this realising how dumb it sounds.

He leans on the fence, arms crossed, and I try very hard not to look at the way his biceps flex when he does that.

I fail.

“Come on,” he says and I must admit it doesn’t take much to persuade me. I would come over if he asked me to sit with him and watch paint dry. “I’ve got cold beer, juice, a pool that’s actually clean for once, and nobody under the age of ten doing cannonballs. When’s the last time you had a quiet swim?”

I raise an eyebrow.

“Define quiet.”

His eyes twinkle with amusement.

“No one screaming ‘Dad, watch this’ before attempting a dive that gives me a heart attack.”

I laugh. His kids are a menace, cute but a menace.

“Sounds blissful.”

“So come over.”

I close my book, put it on the patio table, stand up and stretch a little more than is strictly necessary, letting the sun hit every curve I’ve got, which is plenty. I’m curvy in the way that makes jeans shopping a nightmare and let me not get started about swimsuit shopping which isn’t fun when your tits are bigger than a B cup, but right now, in this bikini, I feel like a fucking goddess.

Tom’s eyes flick down just for a second but long enough for him to check out the goods.

Which is exactly what I want.

“Yeah, okay,” I say, casually as if my heart isn’t doing a drum solo against my ribs. “Let me grab a towel.”

I disappear inside, grab a towel, check my reflection, adjust my bikini top so it’s doing maximum work with minimum fabric, and head next door, a satisfied smirk on my face.

---

His backyard is something else.

I’ve seen it from my window, obviously, but being in it is a completely different kettle of fish. For a start, the pool is a full sized one, a real, tiled, in-ground rectangle of sparkling blue water. There are loungers arranged around it, a patio with a grill, and a pergola strung with fairy lights that I’ve watched flicker on at dusk a hundred times.

I’m talking pool party amazing.

My mouth drops as I stare like a kid in a candy shop.

“Oh my daze! This is amazing! There are people who would pay good money to experience this.”

He chuckles, obviously amused by my wide eyed display of awe.

“It’s the one thing I splurged on after the divorce went through.” He pulls a couple of beers out of the cooler. “Figured I needed something to keep me sane and it turns out floating in silence is good for the soul.”

Sounds like heaven.

“I wouldn’t know. My bathtub barely fits my legs.”

He winks at me and my legs turn to jelly.

“Then today’s your lucky day.” He hands me a beer, condensation already beading on the glass. “Pool’s all yours.”

I take a sip and let the cold settle in my throat. My eyes slide from the water, to the loungers, and then back to him.

He’s still shirtless.

I know I’m staring at him but I can’t stop.

His swim trunks are dark blue and cling to his hips in a way that makes me want to actually beg him to fuck me in every position known to man and some known only to beast.

“You’re not getting in?” My voice has gone up at last two octaves as he starts to walk away and in that moment, I don’t care if it sounds desperate. I don’t want to be here by myself, I want to spend time with him. That’s why I came over, to get to know him better.

He picks up a rake.

“Maybe in a bit. Got to finish cleaning up first.”

But I’m not giving in that easily.

“Everyone deserves a break and that includes you.”

There’s a gleam in his dark eyes as he turns to look at me.

“Bossy.”

I laugh.

“You have no idea.”

He raises an eyebrow, but he doesn’t argue. Instead he drops the rake, grabs a lounger, stretches out, and gestures at the pool like it’s my stage.

I don’t need to be told twice.

I put my beer down, walk to the edge, and dive in. I’m an excellent swimmer so I can afford to show off a bit.

The water is perfect — cool enough to shock the heat off my skin but not cold enough to make me gasp. I stay under for a few seconds, letting the silence wrap around me, and when I surface, Tom is watching me with hooded eyes.

Not the way a neighbour watches another neighbour.

Not in a way that is casual either.

The way a man watches a woman he is attracted to.

Hungry.

My heart is racing and I grab my chance like a toddler grabbing a sharpie.

Eagerly.

“Sunscreen,” I say, treading water.

He’s still staring.

“What about it?”

“I forgot to put it on before I came over” I give him an innocent smile “And I burn like a lobster.”

He tilts his head. “You want me to grab you some?”

I look him dead in the eye.

“I want you to put it on me.”

The words hang in the air between us. I don’t blink or look away. My heart is still hammering and my stomach is doing backflips and I’m pretty sure my nipples are tingling as well as other places, but I don’t take it back.

Tom stares at me for a long moment. Then he stands up, walks over to a small bag at the side of the pool, opens it and takes out a bottle of sunscreen.

“Come here,”

He beckons me over and I swim to the shallow end and walk up the steps water streaming off my body.

And his eyes follow every movement.

“Turn around,” he says and I swear his voice has gone huskier.

I turn.

The sunscreen is cool when it hits my shoulders but his hands are warm and calloused probably from whatever he does for a living — construction maybe, definitely something that involves manual labour either now or in the past.

I’ve never asked.

He spreads the lotion in slow circles, working it into my skin with a thoroughness that makes my pussy clench.

“You’re tense,” he says and I swallow wondering if he can tell how horny I am just from him rubbing suntan lotion on me.

“Am I?”

He chuckled.

“Your shoulders are up around your ears.”

“I’ve had a stressful week.”

“Want to talk about it?”

Do I want to talk about the million times I fucked myself with a vibrator while I thought about him? Nope.

“No thanks for offering though”

He laughs, and the vibration travels through his hands into my skin.

“No problem.”

His hands slide down my back, tracing the curve of my spine getting lower and lower and when his fingers brush the top of my bikini bottoms, I stop breathing entirely.

“Lift your arm a little,” he says in a deep voice and I obey as though I’m in a trance.

He rubs the sunscreen into my lower back, his thumbs pressing into the dimples just above my hips, and I make a sound that I definitely didn’t mean to make that might have sounded like I was in pain but was actually a moan.

“You okay?”

I nod jerkily

“I’m fine..”

“Just fine?”

I turn round. He’s inches away. His hands are still on my hips and his eyes are dark with desire.

Fuck!

“I’ve been watching you mow your lawn for two years,” I babble. “Every Saturday. Ten-fifteen. I know exactly when you start and exactly how long it takes because I plan my entire morning around it.”

He grins.

“I know.”

I blink at him.

“You — what?”

“I know.” His thumbs trace slow circles on my hip bones. “You think I don’t see you? Sitting on your patio with your book, wearing those little bikinis? You think I don’t notice that you always seem to be gardening on Saturdays around ten-fifteen?”

My face is on fire. “The gardening was a coincidence.”

“You don’t have a garden, Evie. You have a patio with three dead succulents.”

He is way too clever to try and fool.

“I’m crap at taking care of flowers, or any living thing for that matter. The poor things die at a single touch from me. Might as well call me the grim reaper of greenery.”

His laugh rings out into the air.

“You’re terrible at subtlety, is what you are.”

I flutter my eyelashes at him.

“Who said I was trying to be subtle?”

His smile fades and I see the desire reappear in his eyes.

“You should be careful,” he says. “A young woman flirting with her older neighbour. It’s so cliché.”

I pout dramatically.

“Maybe I like clichés.”

“Maybe you do.” His hand comes up, tucking a wet strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers linger on my jaw. “Maybe I like them too.”

Fucking hell!

“Then what’s the problem?” I ask and he lets out a deep sigh.

“The problem is I’m forty-five and you’re twenty-one and I’ve been trying to be a gentleman about this for two years and you are making it very, very difficult.”

I make a face.

“I don’t want you to be a gentleman.”

The words hang in the air and his jaw tightens.

“What do you want?”

I don’t hesitate.

“You.”

He kisses me.

Passionately.

His mouth is hot and demanding, and his hands pull me against him, and I can feel every inch of his chest pressed against mine, slick with sweat and sunscreen and pool water and it’s all so delicious and sexy that my head is spinning.

I moan into his mouth, and his hands slide down to my ass, gripping hard, pulling me even closer. I can feel his cock through his trunks — hard and throbbing against my hip — and knowing that I was responsible for his erection, knowing that he wants me that badly, makes my knees go weak.

“Fuck,” he breathes against my lips. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

I raise an eyebrow.

“Two years?”

“Since the day you moved in. You were carrying a box labelled ‘fragile’ and you dropped it on the driveway and said ‘shit’” I thought you were as cute as a button.

I grimace.

“I remember that. It was my grandmother’s china.”

“Did it break?”

“Every single piece.” I kiss him again, quick and fierce. “But I don’t want to talk about my grandmother’s china right now.”

That hungry gaze is back on me again.

“What do you want to talk about?”

“Nothing. I want you to touch me.”

His eyes go dark. “Here? Where everyone can see?”

“Your kids are gone. There’s no one in the house. Plus this is a private area. No one can see us.” I slide my hand down his chest, over his stomach, stopping at the waistband of his trunks. “I’ve been thinking about this for two years, Tom. Don’t make me wait any longer.”

He doesn’t.

He picks me up and carries me to one of the loungers and lowers me down, his body covering mine, his mouth finding my throat, my collarbone, my breasts. He pulls the tie on my bikini top with one hand, and the fabric falls away, and then his mouth is on my nipple and I’m arching off the lounger, gasping at the ceiling of the pergola.

“Oh fuck! Tom!”

“You’re so fucking beautiful Evie” His voice is ragged. “Do you know that? Do you know how many times I’ve imagined this?”

I don’t know but I am desperate to know.

Every detail.

“Tell me.”

“Every night. Every fucking night for two years.” His hand slides down my stomach, over my bikini bottoms. “I’d lie in bed and think about you. Think about what you’d look like naked, wondering what you’d sound like moaning in ecstasy while I pleasured you.”

I swallow. He definitely has a way with words.

“What do I sound like?”

“Better than I imagined.”

His fingers slip beneath the fabric finding my pussy wet and ready, and I cry out as he slides one finger inside me, then two.

“Fuck, you’re tight.” His thumb circles my clit, slow and deliberate, and I’m already climbing, already clutching at his shoulders like he’s the only solid thing in the world. “Is this what you wanted, Evie? When you came over here in that tiny bikini? Did you want me to touch you like this?”

“Yes.” The word comes out as a gasp. “Yes, I wanted— I’ve been wanting—”

“I know.” His fingers curl inside me, finding a spot that makes my vision blur. “I’ve seen you watching me. Seen the way you bite your lip when I’m mowing the lawn. Seen you press your thighs together like you’re trying to get some relief.”

“Oh god—”

“Did you ever touch yourself? After you went inside? Did you imagine it was me?”

Fuck I’m losing it!

“Yes— Tom, I’m going to—”

“Come on my fingers like a good girl.”

That fucking does it.

My back arches off the lounger, my mouth open on a silent scream, my body clenching around his fingers as wave after wave of pleasure crashes through me. He doesn’t stop — keeps stroking me through it, drawing it out until I’m trembling and gasping his name like it’s the only word I know.

When I finally come back to myself, he’s looking down at me with an expression of pure, masculine satisfaction.

“Holy shit,” I breathe.

“That was just the warm-up.”

“There’s more?”

“Evie.” He leans down, his lips brushing my ear. “I’ve been waiting two years. We’re not done until you can’t walk straight.”

---

I slide off the lounger and onto my knees on the warm patio stones. His trunks are soaked through, clinging to the outline of his cock, and when I hook my fingers into the waistband and pull them down, my mouth actually waters.

Jackpot!

He’s big. Thick and long and curving slightly upward, the head slippery with precum. I wrap my hand around him and feel him pulse against my palm.

“Fuck, Evie—”

“Two years,” I say, looking up at him. “Let me enjoy this.”

I take him in my mouth.

He groans — a deep, guttural sound that vibrates through his whole body — and his hand tangles in my wet hair. I work him slowly at first, my tongue tracing the ridge of the head, my hand stroking what I can’t fit in my mouth. He’s so thick that my jaw aches, but I don’t care. I want to make him feel as good as he made me feel.

“That’s it,” he breathes. “Just like that. Fuck, you’re good at this.”

I take him deeper, relaxing my throat, and his hips jerk forward. His grip on my hair tightens.

“Shit— Evie, stop.”

I pull off, confused. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. But if you keep doing that, I’m going to come in your mouth, and I want to be inside you when that happens.”

“Well, when you put it that way.”

He pulls me to my feet and kisses me hard, tasting himself on my lips pulling off my bikini bottoms. Then he’s guiding me back onto the lounger, positioning himself between my thighs, the head of his cock pressing against my swollen pussy lips.

“Tell me you want this Evie” he whispers his eyes holding mine “Tell me you’ve been wanting this.”

“I’ve been wanting this since the day I moved in.” I wrap my legs around his waist. “Now stop being a gentleman and fuck me.”

He enters me without another word.

I gasp. He’s bigger than anyone I’ve ever been with, stretching me in a way that’s almost too much and exactly enough at the same time. He goes slow, giving me time to adjust, his forehead pressed to mine, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

“You okay?”

“I’m perfect. Don’t stop.”

He doesn’t. He starts to move, slow and deep, each thrust hitting somewhere I didn’t know existed. My nails dig into his shoulders, my hips rising to meet his, and the sound of our bodies coming together mixes with the slap of water against the pool tiles and the distant chirp of the birds.

“You feel incredible,” he groans. “So tight. So wet. Been dreaming about this pussy for two years.”

I let out a laugh, or maybe it was a groan.

“Dirty talk from the single dad. I like it.”

“You haven’t seen anything yet.” He picks up the pace, his hips slamming against mine. “You want dirty, Evie? I can do dirty. I’ve been thinking about bending you over this lounger since the first time I saw you in that white bikini the first time you came out to sunbathe two years ago. Thinking about what you’d sound like when I fucked you. Thinking about making you scream and moan out my name.”

I gripped him tight my eyes rolling back in my head.

“Yes— fuck— keep going—”

He flips me over so I’m on my hands and knees on the lounger, and he’s behind me, one hand on my hip, the other fisting in my hair. He pushes back into me in one hard thrust, and I cry out, my fingers gripping the lounger.

“This what you wanted?” His voice is rough, almost a growl. “You wanted your older neighbour to fuck you like this? Bend you over and use this tight little pussy?”

“God, yes—”

“You’ve been teasing me for two years.” Thrust. “Walking around in those tiny bikinis.” Thrust. “Bending over in your garden.” Thrust. “You knew exactly what you were doing.”

“I knew— I hoped—”

“And now you’re getting what you wanted.” His hand slides around my hip, finding my clit. “You’re going to come again and again.”

I’m already close. The angle is mind blowing each thrust hitting deeper than the last, and his fingers on my clit are relentless. I feel the pressure building like a volcano from deep inside me and spreading outward until my whole body is on fire.

“Tom” I croak out “I’m gonna cum.”

He thrusts in deep and fast and my nails dig into the lounger as the second orgasm rips through me, stronger than the first, my pussy clenching around him as I scream his name. He fucks me through it, his rhythm never faltering, and I feel him getting closer — feel his thrusts getting harder, faster, his breathing going ragged.

“Where do you want me to come?” he pants.

“Inside me.” I push back against him. I’m on the pill. “Come inside me. I wanna feel your cum inside me”

He buries himself deep, his body shuddering, a groan tearing out of him that sounds like he’s in pain. I feel him pulse inside me as he cums inside me in thick spurts and the sensation is so fucking good that I come again — a smaller one this time, but it still leaves me gasping.

He collapses onto the lounger beside me, pulling me against his chest, and for a long moment we just lie there, tangled together, breathing hard.

“Holy shit,” I say.

“Yeah.”

“That was—”

“I know.”

I tilt my head up to look at him. His eyes are half-closed, his chest still heaving, his hair a mess.

He’s never looked better.

“So,” I say, tracing a finger down his chest. “When can I come round for round two?”

There’s a twinkle in his eyes.

“I was actually going to ask you to dinner.”

I gape at him. I wasn’t expecting that.

“Dinner?”

“You know. Food? Conversation? A table? A menu? A restaurant?”

I blush. I was so eager to feel his cock inside me again that I didn’t know what he was talking about for a few seconds.

“Stop teasing me” I nudge him lightly in the ribs. “I like the sound of that actually.”

“Good, and after dinner…” His hand slides down my back, resting on my ass. “Round two, three four and five.”

“Round five?” I raise an eyebrow. “Confident, aren’t we?”

“I’ve got two years of material to work with.” He gives me a lopsided grin. “Trust me. We’re just getting started, but you best believe that the next time I fuck you Evie, it will definitely be in a bed….”