I should probably start out with a little background on myself. I was born the last of five kids. An "oops baby," as my siblings loved to call me. I started working for the family business, a moderately sized construction company, as soon as I could hold a hammer and read a tape measure. In 1985, I graduated high school and began working full time. I had been a bit young to see what was happening before, but once I was in full time, I began to see that the company was having problems.

The company had been started by my great grandfather, run by my grandfather, until he fought in WWII, and then my grandmother took over for a few years. My grandfather was wounded in the war, to the point where he could barely use his right arm. From all accounts, this had turned him into a bitter man. But he always seemed to like me. When he died in 1988, he left the business to my three uncles and everything else to my grandmother. Three days after his funeral, I received a letter from an attorney. In it was a painstakingly written letter from my grandfather where he told me that he always felt I was the only one who held any promise and that he hated the way I had been treated. Included in the letter was a cashiers check for 50,000 dollars.

One of my friends was working for his mother as a real estate agent, I asked him to find me a starter home for a reasonable price. Two weeks later, he called me and asked if I wanted to look at a great starter home. It wasn't much—600 square feet, one bedroom, one tiny bathroom, and a kitchen/dining room/living room combo. It had been built in the forties as a vacation home. The walls that didn't have faded wallpaper on them had dingy white paint. The whole place had the smell of a well-used house, old grease, cigarette smoke, and a faint mustiness. It had previously been owned by an older couple, the man had died, and the wife was being put in an assisted living facility. The couple's daughter was trying to sell it and was asking 25,000 dollars for the place. I offered 20,000 cash, and she accepted.

I had found while working with my family that I really enjoyed working on electrical. The town I bought the house in was real close to the electrical union, so I put an application in and was accepted.

My parents and siblings found out about the money and got pissed, so as much as I would have loved to stay at home and work on my house, I thought it would be wiser for me to leave.

I tried to scrub as much as I could, and by the time I was ready to move in, the smells had diminished, and a layer of pinesol had been added.

I didn't have much to move—a few boxes, a queen-sized bed, a television, a worn-out folding table, a plastic lawn chair, and an ugly brown sectional couch I had bought at a garage sale for five bucks. I also had a few dishes, a couple pieces of silverware, and an old percolator coffee pot. Basically, it was a bunch of crap, but it was my crap. I know you're probably asking why I didn't just go ahead and buy new stuff. Well, because I had no idea how the electrical thing would work out, and I didn't want to blow all my money at once. My truck, a 1978 GMC, still ran decent. I knew I was going to have to replace doors and windows, and I probably have to replace the drywall and upgrade the electric, possibly plumbing.

I spent most of the afternoon moving and had kept the front and back doors open as well as all the windows to get some semblence of air movement and to hopefully tone down the smells.

By the time five o'clock rolled around, I was hot and tired. My t-shirt had soaked through with sweat to the point where I just took it off and let it hang to dry. I then decided to head out back and have a cold beer. I grabbed the lawn chair from the kitchen and drug it out to my back porch, an 8x8 concrete slab that had a fairly decent sized oak tree providing some shade. The tiny yard was fenced in, giving me a sense of privacy I had not had anywhere else. And I finally felt at home.

I had nearly finished my first beer and was contemplating either ordering a pizza or getting another beer. It all depended on whether the phone company had hooked up my phone or not. I headed back to the house, and as soon as I walked in, I noticed a light, flowery smell of perfume. A woman who looked to be in her early to mid thirties stood at the open front door. She had an attractive figure. Not too fat, not too skinny, large c-cup breasts that still looked firm. Her brown wavy hair was nearly shoulder-length, and she had that cute mom next door look going for her.

"Sorry," she said as her eyes tracked to my chest. I was nowhere near a great physical specimen back then, but I did try to keep myself in shape, and my years of working construction had built up a bit of muscle mass. It was nice to have someone look at me like that.

"The door was open, and I wanted to make sure no one was causing trouble," she said, walking towards me and extending her hand, I'm JoAnne, by the way."

I took her outstretched hand and shook it. "Mike," I responded. "No trouble here, just moving in."

"Are you renting? Or buying?"

"Buying," I replied.

"Nice," JoAnne said as she looked around the kitchen, "My husband and I live over there with our two boys," she said, pointing to pea green house with a paved driveway. "He's out with them now for the weekend. Gives me a break," she smiled reufully, "they can be a handful sometimes."

"I bet," I said as I opened my refrigerator, "would you like a beer?"

"Umm, sure," JoAnne replied with a polite smile. I popped the top on a bottle and handed it to her before popping the top on another and taking a long swig. She was facing away from me now, and I couldn't help but stare at her ass. It was nicely shapped, and I briefly fantasized about what it would be like to squeeze it.

"Are you going to paint in here?" she asked, turning around. I quickly averted my gaze and looked at the dingy white walls.

"Probably, just not sure what color I should use."

"Are you thinking of updating the cabinets?" she asked.

"Depending on cost, I work for a builder, and sometimes we can get cabinets for a good price, or even free. "

"Well, that will make your decision for you. If you get wood cabinets, then I would paint the walls a cream color, but if your going to keep them the same and just paint existing cabinets, I would go with gray and paint the cabinets a slightly darker color. A blue, or maybe a dark red." She looked over towards me and smiled at my expression. "Before I got married, I went to design school. I still like to play around with it."

"Well, you seem like you're good at it."

JoAnne blushed slightly. "Thanks," she replied, "I always enjoyed it."

"Another beer?" I asked.

"Sure, why not."

I opened two more, and we went outside. I offered her the chair while I stood, and we talked. Two beers led to three. I learned that she wasn't too happy with her marriage. Her husband was always either at work, hunting, or fishing. He always took the boys with him on the weekends, even if she wanted to do something else.

"I have to pee," JoAnne said, getting out of the chair. Her eyes had a slightly glassy look, and I got the feeling she didn't drink a whole lot. She swayed a little, and I instinctively caught her. Her head turned, and she smiled. Her hand went to my chest, and then she quickly pulled it away.

I took out a couple more beers while she was in the bathroom. When she came out, I could see a conflict in her eyes. Then she sighed.

"I only live across the street, right? My husband and kids won't be back for another couple of days. Fuck it, lets get drunk."

I laughed out loud.

"Sounds like a fantastic plan," I replied. We clinked bottles and drank large swallows. Good thing I stocked up on beer, I thought to myself.

"You have a radio?" she asked.

I went to one of my unpacked boxes and dug around a little bit until I found an older Sears radio. I plugged it in and turned it on, moving the dial until I finally found a station playing some rock music. JoAnne started to dance in the kitchen, and I'm not sure whether it was the beer or not, but she sure looked sexy as hell.

We finished those bottles, and I went to the refrigerator for more. When I turned around, JoAnne was right behind me. Our eyes made contact, and she stood on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on my lips.

"This is fun," she said.

"Yeah, it is. I really dont know anyone here, so this has been nice."

Our eyes lingered a bit more, and then I bent down and kissed her again. This time, it lasted longer, and soon, her hunger overrode her guilt, and she soon had her arms wrapped around my neck. Our tongues began to twist and explore each others mouths, and as we grew hotter, I manuvered her towards the bedroom.

I got her to lay on her back, then pulled her shorts down and off. She was nicely trimmed, and I could see a slight glistening that told me she was definitely ready. When I got to my knees and kissed the top of her mound, JoAnne gasped. I let my tongue drift down until it found the soft nub of her clit, it only took a couple of soft flicks to have her groaning in pleasure. As my tongue massaged her bud, I slipped my middle finger inside her slippery hole. As I began to move my finger back and forth, then in circles at varying paces, JoAnnes moans grew more insistent. Every second of my efforts caused her pussy to become slicker and slicker until finally she threw her head back into the bed and thrust her hips into the air.

"Hooomygooodddd," she cried out. "Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod," she wailed as her hips bucked. My finger got trapped inside her, and I had to wait until she came down before continuing.

JoAnne grabbed fistfuls of my hair as my tongue and finger worked its magic. Seconds later, her body arched again. "Mmmmggghhaaaa!" she cried out.

I tried for a third time, but JoAnne pushed me away. "I need you inside me," she growled, "I need you inside me now."

I stood long enough to get my pants kicked off, my cock was so hard it hurt. I stroked the head against her folds, getting it lubed up before slowly pressing forward. JoAnne groaned as I entered her. The heat from her arousal was nearly overwhelming. I started with long, slow strokes, but JoAnne wanted none of that.

"Faster," she breathed, "you need to go faster."

I slowly began to increase my pace.

"Please, faster, harder, god, I need you to fuck me harder."

I pulled back and then slammed forward, causing her to squeal in delight. "Yes, yes, just like that but faster."

I pumped my hips faster, slamming them into her thighs as I drove my cock into her. JoAnne began meeting me thrust for thrust, our sweat-dampened skin slapping against each other and echoing off the wall.

"Yes, yes, yes, drive it in, fuck me hard, fuck me hard, oh god, that feels so good."

I felt the buildup in my balls and knew I wouldn't last much longer. Whether it was my breathing or the look in my eyes, I'm not sure. All I clearly remember was JoAnne locking onto my eyes and saying "yes" in a low voice filled with desire. I pumped hard a few more times, and my entire penis from tip to balls seemed to swell. My body clenched as I drove into her one final time.

My whole world seemed to shrink into a tunnel where pleasure was the only feeling. My seed was released in several hard, forceful bursts that seemed to never end. JoAnne held me tight against her as spurt after spurt filled her to overflowing. As the last spasms subsided, I rolled off her body, and the two of us lay there, panting hard and covered in a heavy sheen of sweat. My bedroom smelled like sex and summer grass, and I couldn't help but feel like I had somehow just experienced one of the greatest moments of my life.

Then, just like that, it was over.

JoAnne sat up, and I saw her face. In that moment, the realization of the line we had crossed hit us hard.

"I need to," she began as she gathered her clothes.

"Yeah, I..." I wanted to say I was sorry, but truth be told, I wasn't.