My Neighbour wore nylons

My Next Door Neighbour wears Nylons

My hands were dug deep into my jeans pockets and my head was tucked into my chest to avoid the worst of the chill wind that was blowing across the fields to my right as I walked up the steep hill towards our house.
During the day I would have had some cover by walking up the backstreet but my Dad locked the yard gate at 9pm ‘in case of burglars.’ Who would want to break into our meagre terraced house was lost on me but he had his rules; so I had to enter the house from the front and it faced out onto the Northern hills.

As I fumbled in my Levi jacket for my keys I noticed that next door’s
downstairs curtains were partially open. I don’t know why but I thought it odd as every other window in the street was in complete darkness.
Curiosity took over and I slowly raised my eyes towards the light as I opened the small gate at the bottom of our garden.

It wasn’t the bitter cold wind that now made me freeze to the spot, but the sight that greeted me when I looked through our neighbour’s window.


My Mum’s best friend was standing in the corner of the room and pulling her dress over her head revealing her massive knockers inside a lily white bra and a small pair of red knickers under a nylon slip. I silently closed the gate and crouched down so as not to be seen.

Nancy dropped the dress to the floor then ran her hands over her breasts before slowly stepping out of the slip. I could no longer feel the icy wind as my mouth hung open. Deliberately not looking out of the window Nancy raised her hands behind her back and fumbled with her bra fastener. At 14 I’d had my own problems opening bras so sympathised with her dilemma but she soon unbuckled the hooks and held the bra against her magnificent orbs for what seemed a lifetime, then pulled it away from her chest and her unfettered knockers wobbled as she leaned to her side and placed the underwear on a chair.

My recent intermittent forays into the world of teenage sex hadn’t
prepared me for anything like this – my next door neighbour looked like a sexy film star as she stood in the corner of her living room now only wearing a skimpy pair of red knickers brown stockings and a big white suspender belt.

Sex was in its infancy in the mining villages of North East England in 1972 and although I’d managed to get two girls to let me feel their tits in the six months since my 14th birthday that was the sum total of my sexual experience apart from the occasional well thumbed copy of Health & Efficiency. I knew that you had to put a ring on the third finger of a girls’ left hand if you wanted to get inside her knickers.

My face was burning up and my stomach churning as the middle aged woman ran her hands across the front of her pants then, after a gap of 10 seconds that felt like 10 minutes she pulled the knickers down and stepped out of them. My eyes were just focussing on her hairy bush when she suddenly turned around and switched the light off before quickly disappearing through the door that was behind her.

Despite the freezing wind I was now covered in sweat but more
importantly I had a hard on the size of Blackpool Tower.

Thankfully Mum, Dad and my brother were already asleep as I tip toed
up the stairs to my own bedroom. In a well practiced Winter manoeuvre I took my clothes off and put my pyjamas on in one slick movement meaning I was never fully unclothed in the cold room. Once inside my bed I immediately began tugging at my still hard cock reliving the show that Nancy had put on. I spunked into a sock inside two minutes which was a bit of a record, bearing in mind I hadn’t cracked one out for nearly three days.

I woke up with another stiffy remembering the previous nights events and knocked a second load out into the sticky sock before getting up for breakfast.

School dragged all day as images of Nancy and her huge boobs were now burned onto my brain and I began evolving an array of over complicated ways of seducing her.

Later that evening the family were settled in front of the TV when the back door opened and a familiar voice called out “Only me.”

As was her way Nancy sauntered into the living room without a care as to whether the family might be discussing some important Political topic or engaging a naked game of Twister.