Author:
John
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Date Posted: Wednesday, August 24, 2011, 08:09: pm
My neighbor across the street is good looking, divorced, but I considered her untouchable because she has a major attitude. Not just to me but all of the neighbors around. Most of us wave to each other as we get the paper or work in the yard. She just pretends not to see us.
One night I was at home and the phone rang. It was my her, all in a panic. Something was wrong with the faucet in her bathroom and it would not shut off. The shut off valve under the sink was too tight for her to turn. Could I please come over and try to stop the water. I grabbed some tools and headed over. She opened the door wearing a t-shirt and jeans. No shoes or bra. The bathroom sink faucet was running steaming hot water. I managed to get the shutoff to turn and stopped the flow. It only took a few minutes to determine the rubber washer had split. I had one and replaced it on the spot and put the faucet together. I turned the water back on and it did not leak. Success! While I was working I couldn’t help but notice a red open top bag hanging on the towel bar, partially covered by a towel. It was full. That was probably why she was running the hot water. I didn’t know if she was planning to douche or enema, but at that time of the day I guessed it would be enema. She noticed me looking in the direction of the bag hanging there, and she started to get red. I told her to be sure to refill her bag with fresh warm water, because there is nothing I hate worse than a cold enema. She glared at me and asked how I would know about that. I said I bet I have had more enemas than you have. She said I needed more fiber in my diet. I said I really don’t need them for that, but I find them relaxing after a long day at work. She was quiet for a minute, then she asked what she could give me for fixing her faucet. I said I didn’t want anything, just be sure to put fresh warm water in your bag and enjoy your enema. She laughed and then she turned real serious and said I think you should go now. Damn! For a minute I thought I was getting somewhere..
About a week later the phone rang. It was her. This time not panic, but nervousness in her voice. She asked if I had my enema yet. I said, No. She said bring your things over in 15 minutes. Come to the back door. Click. Did I just hear that? Is it a joke? Her back light was not on. I guess she knew if the old lady two houses down saw me go over there everybody would know the next day. She opened the door before I knocked. She was wearing the same t-shirt as the last time I saw her, no bra. As my eyes locked on the outline of her nips she said, I see you like my shirt. Oh, yes! No small talk, just straight to the bathroom. Her bag was hanging on the towel bar. This time it was still empty. She asked if I wanted to do the honors as she shed her jeans. No panties! She pointed to a bottle of castile soap by the sink and said, I like it fairly warm, light soap. As I filled her bag, she said she has just one rule – we can touch but we cannot fu*$. Yes, ma’am!
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