The Block Party - Sex Stories

The Block Party

I wasn’t going to attend the annual neighborhood block party. It was exceptionally hot and humid, even by Florida standards. With the sun beating down and the usual amount of excessive alcohol served, it just didn’t appeal to me. Additionally, my husband Rick was looking forward to this. All the more reason for me not to go. I can’t stand being with him. Thank God we don't have children. I had intentions of going downtown to meet up with my girlfriends. The air-conditioned comfort of The Village Pub seemed more enticing.

The host of the party, Katie, called me to find out where I was. I told her that it was too hot, and I wouldn’t be attending. She spent the next five minutes convincing me, and finally said, “Don’t be anti-social. Just stop by for one cocktail. It’ll be fun.”

She wore me out. I finally agreed to come, just for one… famous last words. I slipped on a silky white thong. Looking through my closet, I found a cotton sundress with a halter-style top. It had a bare back and a thin strap that tied around my neck. It was too hot out to be restrained by a bra. This was perfect. I dressed and checked myself in a mirror. I look good, I thought. At least I could get some sun on my shoulders.

The festivities were centered only a few houses away. I arrived in no time. All of my neighbors were there, some I knew, many I didn’t. Most are a little older than me and have adult children. Without the responsibility of kids at home and being financially secure, these ...

... people enjoy partying. When I moved here six months ago, I had no idea.

Skip, Katie’s husband, fixed me a gin and tonic in what I can only describe as a bucket. It was about the size of three full drinks, ice cold and delicious. The first sip was welcome in the afternoon heat. I made the rounds socializing with some neighbors as I did justice to the bucket of booze. It was so hot in the afternoon sun that I needed to find relief in the shade.

There was a seat available at a table with an umbrella. A gentleman I recognized but didn’t know was sitting alone. I approached the table. “I’m Darlene. May I join you? I need to get out of the sun before I bake.”

“I’d love the company.”

I smiled. “I’m sorry, you look familiar to me. Have we met before?”

He seemed slightly embarrassed. “You know who I am, but you have no clue from where, do you? What a lasting impression I leave on people.”

I felt bad. “I’m sorry, I know I know you, but please, refresh my memory.”

“My name is Jim. I live over there. We’ve never formally met.” He pointed over his shoulder to the left; his house was visible from Skip and Katie’s backyard.

Then it hit me. Every morning I walk. When I pass his house, he always says ‘good morning’ when he’s outside. I’ve always been curious about him. He seemed like a nice man and I was happy that I’d finally met him.

“Jim, it is so nice to finally put a name to the face. Yes, I know who you are. I always enjoy your friendly good morning when I pass. ...