11 comments/ 32077 views/ 1 favorites Walkie Millie By: YoursSINSerely Henry passed away last fall, November 1st. I'll never forget the day. It was All Saints Day, and it was only one day after my birthday. We had been out celebrating the night before. Maybe we ate too much or maybe we drank too much. I know I was okay to drive, because I was the one who drove us home, safe and sound. We had made love before our final kiss good night and I had thanked him for a lovely evening of celebration. I told him how happy I was to have him be a part of my life for the past ten years. I told him that I loved him; once while we were making love, and once while we just laid quietly next to one another. I remember our last moments together like they happened just yesterday. We had been dancing at my birthday party. He loved to waltz. We didn't know how to properly waltz like they do on TV, but we did hold each other close. I had my arms around his neck and his hands always roamed somewhere on my back side. He was always feeling my butt. Henry was an ass man. I remembered feeling his cock getting hard while he pressed himself against me and squeezed my butt. That night, we went from the dance floor to the bedroom floor. Our clothes were strewn all about the house because we started to strip as soon as the front door opened. I had already left my panties in the car. Henry had said he couldn't wait to feel my pussy and I obliged him while I drove us home with my left foot on the gas pedal and my right leg wrapped around the shifty thing. He stroked me and poked me and I moaned about how good it felt. I remember telling him how I couldn't wait to have him lick my pussy with his magic tongue, which is where he started on me on the stairway leading to our bedroom. From the top landing, he mounted me like a dog in heat, humping at my backside. The steps gave him the perfect height advantage as he aimed his cock toward me. From there, we moved to the softness of the feather duvet where I returned his oral pleasure. Then, I took my turn mounting him like a cowgirl on her stallion. I had no idea this was going to be our last ride together. Neither of us knew he had a bad heart. He was only 48. Millie has replaced Henry on his side of the bed. She lies next to me night after night with her head on his pillow. I think she misses him as much as I miss him. He was our best friend. Now, there is just the two of us, instead of the three of us. Our family is broken, but we have fond memories. Every once in awhile, she will dig out one of his slippers from the closet and bring it to me. I know that she remembers him because she will drop the slipper at my feet and look up at me with those sad brown eyes that Springer Spaniels have. She will turn and walk away, only to retreat to that round throw rug on the floor next to his side of the bed. She sits and waits. I can't make her understand that he won't be coming back. She always looks so sad laying there waiting for him. I can only try to keep her amused during the day, but the nights are very sad. They are very sad for both of us. I promised myself and Millie, too, that I would keep going; that we, would keep going. Henry would have wanted it that way. This is why I walk Millie every night. It's a ritual that the three of us used to do right after supper. But, now that summer is here, I find myself walking later and later into the night. I don't want to be out in the heat of the late afternoon. I'd rather wait until the sun sets and the sidewalk cools. We only walk around the block, but it's not a city block that we pound away at. It's a rural block that measures all of three miles. It's quiet and picturesque, even after dark. Sometimes Millie and I will meet up with other walkers going in the opposite direction and I will nod my head and say, "Good evening. Nice night for a walk." Occasionally, I'll actually run into someone I know and we exchange pleasantries, but we always keep moving while we are talking. This is, after all, my neighborhood. I've noticed a few new families moving in while my old playmates get married and move out and their parents start to move away to retirement communities. It's the neighborhood that I grew up in. I know almost everyone. I know their brothers, their sisters, their wives, their husbands and their kids. This is where I live in my little town east of the river. I remember when Henry and I would walk after dinner, we would talk about our day, who we had seen, or where we had had lunch. Millie would always walk on her leash in front of us. Once in awhile she would stop to smell something, squat and piddle a little bit just to let the next dog know that she had been there. That's when Henry would stop, turn to me, and kiss me softly on my lips and hug me around my waist, and say, "I missed you today, Rosie. I miss have my girl by my side during the day. I enjoy our walks at night. I like holding your hand." Now, when I walk, the only thing I say is, "C'mon Millie, stop barking, leave the cat alone and let's go." I don't know why I feel the need to rush her along. There's no need to hurry home. There's no one there. As the summer months roll on and the temperature has risen, I've noticed that I'm in less of a rush to get home. I've even noticed that my walking pace isn't quite as swift. If Millie wants to stop, I don't mind waiting for her to finish smelling whatever it is that a dog can smell; cat piss, squirrel piss, it would all smell the same to me, but not to a dog. On this one particular night, late in August, we had started out later than normal. It was already dark and it was still in the low eighties. It was hot. The dog was panting and we weren't even walking very fast, but we kept moving along until we got to the Robinson's house. Millie stopped to pee near their clump of bushes next to the sidewalk. I kind of pulled into the bushes myself for fear that someone would see her doing what she was doing to their bushes. I was trying to hide. The Robinson house is a big white colonial with pillars that lead up to their front door. There's a wrap-around porch with three or four black rocking chairs lined up on it. Mary Robinson always has beautiful flowers planted around the base of the porch and there are two giant urns, one on either side of the steps. It's very picturesque and so very typical of all of the houses here east of the river. There is never a blade of grass out of place. The yards are quiet large and I can see the Robinson's have left their croquet wickets up for the summer. Their lawn is always impeccable. "The lawn guy must love mowing around those, Millie," I quietly muttered out loud. As soon as I said that, I noticed a light go on in the upstairs bedroom. I tried to step back further into the shadow of the bushes just in case the Robinsons could see me allowing my dog to piss in their front yard. I'm sure there will be a big brown patch of grass there in a few days and they'll have to have their landscaper in to repair it. Oh, well. It's too damn hot to even care about it. I stood for a moment watching the figures in that upstairs bedroom. I could hear them laughing. The drapes were fully open and so wasn't the window. I couldn't quite make out the words they were saying, but there was mostly laughter coming from the house. The rest of the house was in complete darkness. The full moon allowed me to see there was a pickup truck parked in the driveway. I assumed Mary's car had been pulled into the garage for the evening. Millie had completed her duty and started to roam and sniff around the bushes that I still clung to for camouflage. I stood there like a statue, quietly watching. I don't know what came over me, but I was intrigued to watch these two figures walk around the room. Once Mary walked closer to the window, I could see the silhouette of her extended hand holding a glass of wine like she was offering it to her husband, George. I went to grammar school with George. I knew him well. He was always a nice kid and I always thought he would be a great husband, too. I felt like a peeping Tom, but I didn't care. I wanted to see what they would do next. So, I watched. And, I listened. All the while, Millie sniffed. We were both very quiet. Mary Robinson walked directly toward the open window and for a second, I thought she might have heard me, but she stopped a few feet in front of it. George approached her from behind and wrapped his arms around her and she arched her back and laid her head on his shoulder. I gasped! Mary Robinson was completely naked! Her breasts were pointed right out to the front yard for anyone to see, but there was no one there but me. Her pussy, although neatly shaved, was dark and just at the right height of the window sill for me to see it. I now knew she wasn't a natural blonde, I suspected it all along. That dark pussy was my proof. They each had a glass of wine in their hand and I could here her say, "It's so hot tonight. Let me catch my breath. I need some air." She walked closer to the window. George kissed her neck and her shoulders, never lifting his head to the moonlit yard. As he stood behind her, his hands fondled her breasts and I could tell that he was grinding himself into her back side. They both turned slightly until there were two silhouettes in the window and I could see he was also naked. I was getting warmer myself and I knew if Henry were with me he would be having the same ideas that George Robinson had had right at that moment. Squarely planted, directly in the center of the window, Mary turned to George and got down on her knees. I knew what she was about to do. I could see his cock was hard and her hand was already in action on it. They both stopped to set their wine glasses on the window sill. I gasped, again, for the second time. I quickly placed my hand over my mouth in case they might have heard my very audible deep breath. It wasn't George! Who the hell was that in Mary Robinson's bedroom? I didn't know she was having an affair. I had no idea. I took a step to the right to see if I could get a better look at who was in the bedroom. Millie was sitting right by my side waiting for me. Mary's head went down on his cock and he moved his hips in rhythm to her bobbing head. I stood in awe, just watching from the shadow, like a common peeping Tom. I still couldn't make out who he was. I took another step to the right to get a better look. "It's the landscaper," a deep voice came from behind me in the shadow. Yet, another gasp came from deep within me this time. I swung around quickly to find a man in the shadow standing only about six inches from me. I was shaking. A million thoughts raced through my head in lightening speed. How long had he been standing there? What was he doing there? Was he watching Mary, too? Where the hell is Millie? Why isn't she protecting me? Why isn't she barking? "Millie, come!" I pulled on her leash to get her closer to me and the man in the shadow stepped forward into the moonlight where I could see who he was. It was George! It was George Robinson standing in the dark bushes in his own front yard. I looked at him; I looked up at the opened window, then back at him, again. I felt like I was watching a tennis match and didn't want to miss where the ball was going. "George? You scared the shit out of me! What are you doing out here?" I was still trying to keep my voice down to a whisper so the two lovers in the window wouldn't hear me. I looked up one more time. Mary had turned to face the opened window again, no doubt to catch a summer breeze the way her breasts were flopping around. I found myself to be mesmerized by the sight of her naked body in the window. I never knew she was such an exhibitionist and I never knew she had had a boob job. I was getting aroused myself just watching these two get it on in the window. She was bent over from the waist while she reached her outstretched arms to the cast iron radiator in front of her. She was accepting her lover's cock from behind. I could see that she was raising her hips higher to reach his cock. His hands were on her hips and we could hear her grunts echo through the still summer night until he came. It was the landscaper who yelled out next into the still summer air. I turned to George with a dumbfounding look on my face, "What are you doing out here?" I was still whispering, "Who is that with Mary and what they hell are you doing hiding in these bushes? You scared the fucking crap out of me, ya know." He spoke in a very soft, low baritone voice with no expression in his voice. "I come out here every Thursday night, Rosie. I watch them. I'm pretty sure Mary knows I'm here, too. I think that's why she coaxes him to the window. I've noticed as the nights get hotter, she gets closer to the window. She never used to leave the lights on, but lately, I can tell she's not hiding anything any more." "You know about this?" My voice was getting a little high pitched, but I was still whispering. "Yeah, I've known about it for awhile. I suspected something when the landscaper showed up in February with some new plans for fancy garden beds out back." His eyes never moved away from the second floor bedroom window. "But, I don't understand why you are standing in your bushes. Why aren't you doing something about the affair? Don't you want to stop them?" My eyes were glued to the free x-rated scene. The two lovers were now in an embrace. Her arms were wrapped around his neck and his hands were firmly planted on her ass as they held each other close. Their wine glasses sparkled on the window sill in the moonlit night. "I'm supposed to be bowling tonight, Rosie. I told her I joined a summer league that meets on Thursday nights. I needed to find out if my suspicions were true, so I made up the story about bowling in a new league for the summer just to see if she took the bait to continue this affair." I started to relax a little bit, even though I was still standing in the shadow of the bushes. I don't know if I was comfortable talking to George in the dark summer night air, or if I was comfortable knowing that he wasn't there to hurt me. We kept talking about what was going on his bedroom. "George, are you going to get a divorce," I asked. He took a deep breath before he answered me, "I thought, at first, that I would. But, week after week, I come out here and watch them. I think it turns me on, Rosie. I found out that watching them excites me. Sometimes, I take my penis out and just jerk off while they stand there in the window doing it." I could tell even in the dark night that my face just turned seven different shades of red to hear him say that. I quickly thought back to where he had been standing behind me in the bushes just a few moments ago. Maybe he had had his cock out when I approached the bushes. Perhaps I had interrupted him during an ejaculation. I tried to surreptitiously glance down to his manhood to see if his fly was open. I could see that it was not, but there was a growing bulge beneath his pants. I could suddenly feel the inside of my shorts getting damp, damp to the point that I believed there was moisture actually dripping down the inside of my legs. There was a familiar tingle in my pussy that I hadn't felt since Henry's death. George could tell that I was becoming uncomfortable with the conversation as I inched closer to the sidewalk and out of the shadow of the bushes. He reach for my arm and lightly touched it, "Oh, I'm sorry, Rosie. I've completely startled you by surprising you like this. I apologize. Let me make it up to you by walking you home. Please. I promise to be good." He made the motion of crossing his heart and giving me the Boy Scout sign of three raised fingers. "You could walk me home, George. I would like that. Millie is usually all the protection I ever need, but tonight she didn't even bark when she saw you in the bushes." I laughed and pointed toward the sidewalk up ahead, "Maybe there are more men hiding out around the corner watching their wives." I tugged on Millie's leash to have her follow us as we headed toward my house. George was quiet for a long while until we came upon his car parked at the curb around the corner. He pointed to his parked car and started his confession with, "I park my car over here after the sun sets. Then, I walk to my house. I wait in the bushes until they shut off all the lights downstairs. I used to bring my binoculars with me, until I figured out it was Joe Pappas screwing my wife. Can you believe it? My wife is upstairs in my bedroom screwing our Greek landscaper. At first, I was furious. I was going to go straight in there and demand a divorce. Now, this is going to sound weird to you, Rosie, but as I watched him fucking Mary week after week, I could tell that she was really enjoying it. She enjoys sex with him much more than she ever enjoyed it with me. Besides being furious, now I have become jealous and envious of his loving making techniques. So, I started to watch them every Thursday night while they think I'm off in the bowling alley. I felt like I was there in the bushes taking lessons on how to make love to my wife in a way that would please her. Almost every week they would try something new. Tonight it was that rear entry thing in the window. Last week, they were fucking on the front porch in the rocking chairs. Sometimes they screw on the couch in the front parlor. I can see her legs sticking straight up in the air." "How long has it been going on, George? Do you know?" I was almost afraid to interrupt his speech. We kept walking and he kept talking. "It probably started last summer. Now, that I think about everything, I remember he was at our house almost every day last summer, planting something, or trimming a tree, or mowing the grass. I didn't know he was checking out my wife's bush at the same time and I was paying him for it." Trying to console him as best I could, I said, "Well, your yard does look very nice, lately." He stopped walking for a brief second and turned his head toward me and said, "Yah, and the best part is, I never have to mow the grass, or shovel snow any more. He's become a year-round landscaper." "Don't get me wrong, Rosie, becoming a voyeur has really helped me out. We still make love, Mary and I, and it's usually on Friday nights. I try to repeat what Pappas had used on her the night before. She thinks I'm being psychic," he chuckled. "Oh, here's my house already, George. Thanks for walking me home. I hope you know your secret is safe with me. You and I have been friends for too long to have this creepy little incident come between." I started to walk up my sidewalk. I thought he was going to shake my hand goodbye, but instead he lifted my hand and kissed it, then patted it with his other hand saying, "I'm glad you are home safe and sound, Rosie. Henry would be glad to know it, too. Good night, Millie." He reached over and patted Millie's head, leaving her tail wagging for more. He turned and I watched him disappear into the shadows of the long sidewalk, again. That was the last night that Millie and I would head out after the sunset, in spite of the sweltering temperatures of the day. I was sure I didn't want to run into George Robinson hiding in the bushes, again. Day after day, as soon as my dinner was completed, Millie and I would start out on our walk. I still walked passed the Robinson's house every night. Sometimes George would be sitting on the porch, and sometimes Mary would be out in the yard cutting flowers for her table. They always waved and I would return the gesture. Once in awhile, I would stop and talk to each of them for a few minutes. They seemed to be getting along fine with each other and I was sincerely happy for them. This one particular night, I was still sitting at the dining room table finishing my dinner when I heard a knock on the screen door in the kitchen. Millie barked and went running to the door before I could get there. Her barking stopped quickly, which meant there was a familiar face standing outside and I started to relax as I approached the room. By the time I got to the kitchen, Millie's tail was wagging while she danced her little jig in circles. It was George Robinson at my screen door. Walkie Millie "Oh, hi, George. C'mon in. Millie, come. Get out of the way." I had to pull on her collar to control her enthusiasm. She liked George. Well, she likes men in general. We girls are very easy to read. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything." He opened up the wood-framed screen door and stepped into my kitchen. 'No. No. No. I'm just finishing up my dinner. Then, Millie and I will be going for our walk. What's going on?" "Well, I was wondering, if you wouldn't mind, if I could walk with you and Millie tonight, but, only if you don't mind. I don't want to intrude on your time with her, or even change your walking pace. It's just that I enjoyed walking with you the other night. It was nice. It brought back some of my old high school memories of when we were kids." George was now down on one knee in my kitchen petting Millie's belly. The two of them looked quite comfortable with each other. How could I resist his invitation? "I agree. It was nice to have a two-legged friend join me on my walk around the block. Let me pick up my dishes in the other room and we can get going in just a few minutes." I stopped to retrieve Millie's lease from the banister and we were off for our three mile walk around the block. I began, "It's Thursday night, George. Are you supposed to be off bowling again tonight, or has the league ended by now?" I know it was kind of a snotty thing to say, but I needed to know how things were going between him and Mary these days. I also wanted to know if he had an ulterior motive with this surprise visit at my screen door tonight. He started to chuckle a little bit. "Oh, Rose, I had forgotten that I told you the bowling story. Well, as a matter of fact, this is the last night of the make-believe summer league, because the real one starts next week. This time next week I'll be in the real bowling alley throwing a ball, while my wife is in our back alley playing with the landscaper's balls, again." "Sounds like she is still messing around with him, huh?" We kept walking down the sidewalk, George and I were side by side and Millie walked on her leash off to the side on everyone's grass. The sun was started to set. As August starts to come to a close, there is a noticeable difference in the length of daylight hours. I knew it would be completely dark before I would return home. I reached in my back pocket and pulled out a small flashlight, handed it to George, "Here, you can carry this. We're going to need it in a little while." Several minutes passed with neither of us speaking. We were just walking; checking out the neighbor's yards, looking at their houses. People were already starting to snap on lights inside their houses. It only helped to illuminate their giant rooms with their beautiful chandeliers, over-sized paintings on their walls and massive central staircases. I loved looking into these houses. Almost no one pulled curtains, or lowered shades. I always liked to see how they decorated. Sometimes it would give me ideas for my own home, or sometimes I would just think they had their decorating tastes in their ass. That's when George spoke up. "I've noticed that you are peeking into all of the opened windows along the way. Do you like to watch people, Rosie? Does it turn you on?" "Turn me on? If you want to know if I'm looking at people, I'm not. I'm looking at their furniture. What are you looking at, George?" "I watch people." He pointed to the Anderson house across the street. "Their bedroom is that room in the front of the house. Mrs. Anderson has a full-length mirror on the back of the closet door. She never shuts lights off when she is dressing and undressing. I've seen her stand in front of that closet completely naked and pull out a negligee on a hanger. From over here, I have a clear view of her round ass and curvy hips and if I just take a couple more steps this way, I can see her gorgeous tits and bushy pussy in the mirror. For an old broad, she's got great looking nipples. What do you think she is, 56, 57?" "George! I can't believe you look into people's houses. You can get arrested for that stuff, you know." "Yah, well I haven't yet and I've been doing it for years." Millie stopped to pee and I stopped to.....catch flies with my opened mouth. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I've known George Robinson since grammar school. We used to take the same bus to school. That's when I had a flash back to an incident when he wanted to play show and tell that I had totally forgotten about until just this moment. I remember George exposing himself to me one day as we sat in the very last seat at the back of bus. He unzipped his fly and pulled out his dick to show me something. He wanted to show me how big it got. He made me touch it. I also remember being very interested in the whole growth process. I knew he was watching me watch his dick, then he asked me to lick it and I did. Right there in the back of the bus, I was sucking his dick. "I can well imagine that you have indeed been doing it for years. You were always kind of uninhibited about those kinds of things. Do you remember what we did on the bus, George?" I reached over and locked my arm around his and pulled him close to me. "Oh, yah, that brings back a fond memory. Wanna do that again? We can go over there under Anderson's apple tree and you can blow me for old-time sakes." Millie was tugging on her leash to continue her walk, and I giggled, "No, not tonight. I have to get home in time to watch This Old House." I started to pick up our pace a little, like I was now in a rush to get home. "Speaking of This Old House, have you seen what they are doing to the Miller's old house over there? They've completely gutted it, but the new people are living in it already. The whole family prances around that house naked, half naked, every night. Come here." He pulled Millie and me onto their front lawn. "Take a look for yourself. There's the oldest daughter in her upstairs bedroom. I was talking to her one day, but I can't remember her name, now. She graduated from college this year and can't find a job, so she's home with mom and dad. Look at her up there. She's gorgeous—long blonde hair, great looking tits. I told her she could get a job as a stripper with no problem at all. I wish I was younger, I'd be doing her under that old apple tree." Millie's ears went up all of a sudden. She was a mostly black dog, but had those little patches of white fur that stood up above her head and her tail stuck straight out, pointing like a spoke on a weather vane. The long white fur from the underside of her tail swayed in the gentle summer breeze. I could tell she could hear something, but I couldn't see anything or anyone in the area, let alone hear what she could hear. We were in complete darkness by now. Even with George at my side, I was a little nervous about what might be lurking in the shadows of this tree-lined street. George was so preoccupied with watching the blonde coed in her bedroom that he never saw the warning sign from Millie. "George, let me have that flashlight," I whispered. He handed it to me without taking his eyes off of the well-lit bedroom, only he missed my hand by a few inches. The flashlight went crashing to the sidewalk, exploding into a million pieces. As I bent over to pick up everything, the bunny, hiding in the shadows, decided to hightail it across the lawn. Millie's leash slipped from my hand and the chase was on. I have never in my life seen a rabbit run so fast! George hollered, "There goes Yankee!" While the rabbit flew beneath the privet hedge, Millie leaped over it like a gazelle. George and I were right on their tails for awhile, but were losing ground quickly. I kept repeating, "Don't catch that bunny, Millie. Leave the bunny alone. No! Come! Stop," but nothing was working. They kept going; over fences, through fences, stone walls and fountains. We ran from one yard to another until we finally landed in someone's back yard. The rabbit was cornered, but hiding under their gazebo. Millie stood proud as a peacock while her tail was outstretched, her body in a perfect blue-ribbon pointer position. I couldn't have been more proud. I love my dog! George arrived at the gazebo with a screeching halt just a moment before I had rounded the side of this house. He stood there with his hands on his hips and I almost crashed into him. My eyes were still on Millie. Speaking in a whisper, so the homeowners wouldn't hear me in their backyard, I praised Millie, "Good girl. Come!" "Well, isn't this a fine how-do-you-do?" George wasn't whispering as I had been. He was speaking loud enough so the two naked people inside the gazebo could hear him. We were in George's backyard. The woman had her back to us. The man was sitting on the bench and she was busy giving him a lap dance. The moon was just beginning to rise, giving us enough light to see her curvy hips rising and falling upon his cock. His hands were placed on either side of her well-rounded ass as she pounded away at him. They were in the middle of an orgasmic moan when George spoke. The woman turned her head quickly, "George? What are you doing here? You are supposed to be bowling." It was his wife and the landscaper fucking in the new gazebo. There were still pots of flowers scattered about ready for planting. "Never mind what am I doing here? What the Hell are you doing here fucking the God damned landscaper? Jesus, Mary and Joe Pappas! What the hell are the neighbors going to think?" He had to make it sound like this was the first time he had ever seen the two in an embrace. The two lovers were scrambling to find their robes as I turned away pretending to be embarrassed, but not before noticing the Greek God she had been fucking. His body was perfectly sculpted and his cock was erect. I could only think what a lucky gal she had been to have had him inside of her. I reached for Millie's leash, tugging her away from the bunny that was still holed up under the gazebo. "George, we can walk home from here. Looks like you will have some business of your own to handle here. Maybe we can do this again some other night. Call me." Millie and I quickly retreated to his driveway and onto the sidewalk to soon find ourselves on my own back steps, once again. George Robinson was standing at my back door the next night and the night after that, too. We continued to circle the neighborhood with Millie on a much shorter leash on into the month of September. We continued to peek into people's houses as we walked and discussed who was in there and what they were doing. Watching people turned him on and it turned me on, too. Eventually, we found ourselves back in my bed reliving what was taking place in our neighbor's homes. Mary decided to cohabitate with Joe Pappas in his trailer home in the little town on the other side of the river. George was happy to get rid of the tramp. He sold his old house for a half million dollars, making a huge profit since he had picked it up for a song back in the eighties. He moved in with me two weeks ago. I couldn't be happier and Millie now lies on that braided rug next to George's side of the bed. She has her family back, again. Hello, readers. Thank you for getting this far. I appreciate you taking the time to read my story. Since this is a contest, please take one more moment to cast your vote. Your comments are always welcomed. Yours SINSerely, Babs