Chapter Text
Day One — Leon
The afternoon sun hung heavy over the suburban street, casting long shadows across neatly trimmed lawns. Leon S. Kennedy leaned against the railing of his second-story deck, a bottle of beer dangling from his fingers, when movement next door caught his eye.
He'd heard about Mrs. Henderson's passing three months ago. The old woman had been a fixture in the neighborhood for decades—always waving from her porch, always offering lemonade to anyone walking past. He'd helped her change a flat tire once, back when he was in his late twenties, and she'd insisted on baking him a pie every Thanksgiving after that. Now he was pushing forty—thirty-six, to be exact—feeling every year in his bones but still sharp as a blade.
The house had sat empty through spring, gathering dust and silence.
Until now.
A moving truck had arrived yesterday. He'd watched from his kitchen window as a young woman directed the movers, her voice carrying through the screen. He hadn't recognized her at first—too many years had passed. But then she'd turned, and something clicked in his memory.
The granddaughter. The one who used to spend summers here as a teenager. She'd had a crush on him back then—he'd known it, the way she'd blush and stammer whenever he said hello. But she'd been a kid, and he'd been a grown man. He'd kept his distance.
She was no teenager now.
And right now, she was standing in her grandmother's garden, completely fucking naked.
Leon's beer bottle paused halfway to his lips. His jaw tightened.
She was curvy as sin—hips flaring wide from a narrow waist, thighs thick and soft where they met the swell of her ass. Her tits hung heavy and full, round as melons with nipples the color of ripe strawberries, standing out hard and pink even from this distance. Dark hair fell loose past her shoulders, and her body glistened with what he assumed was sunscreen.
She laid a towel flat on the grass, right there in plain view of his deck—though she clearly didn't know that. The privacy fence ran around her property, yes, but it only reached about six feet. From his elevated position, he had a perfect, unobstructed view.
She stretched out on her stomach first, the curve of her spine arching as she settled. Her thighs parted slightly, and he caught a glimpse of something pale and smooth between them.
Shaved. Completely bare.
Leon took a long pull of his beer, forcing himself to look away. He was a grown man, not some horny teenager spying on his neighbor. He should go inside. Should close the blinds.
But his feet remained rooted.
And when she rolled onto her back half an hour later, presenting those perfect tits to the sun—when her fingers trailed lazily across her stomach, her ribs, the underside of one breast—he found himself watching with an intensity that bordered on shameful.
What would it feel like to have those tits in my hands? The thought erupted unbidden, hot and vivid. To take that pink nipple between my teeth and bite down just hard enough to make her gasp?
His cock stirred against his jeans. He shifted, adjusting himself, but didn't look away.
She lay there, baking in the afternoon heat, her chest rising and falling in slow, peaceful rhythm. Eventually she drifted off, lips slightly parted, one hand resting on her lower belly.
Leon's fantasy spiraled. He imagined stepping off his deck, crossing the grass, standing over her sleeping form. Imagined her eyes fluttering open, first confused, then widening in recognition. Imagined her spread her legs without a word, inviting him down.
He saw himself kneeling between her thighs, his mouth descending on her bare cunt. Tasting her. Feeling her wetness coat his tongue. He'd pin her hips down when she tried to squirm, lick her clit until she screamed, make her cum so hard she'd forget her own name.
And then he'd fuck her. Right there in the garden. Flip her onto her stomach and take her from behind, his hands gripping those wide hips, watching his cock slide into her slick heat. She'd moan into the grass, her ass bouncing against his thighs, and he'd pump into her until he filled her cunt with his cum.
The fantasy was so vivid he could almost smell her—sunscreen and sweat and female arousal. His hand drifted to his crotch, cupping his hardening dick through his jeans.
He caught himself. Forced his hand away.
Fuck. What was he doing? She was his neighbor. Probably just a normal girl trying to enjoy her inheritance. She didn't deserve to be the object of some almost-forty-year-old man's dirty thoughts.
But the image stayed burned behind his eyelids long after she gathered her things and went inside.
---
Day One — Y/n
The grass was warm beneath her towel, the sun a familiar weight against her skin. Y/n sighed, adjusting her hips, feeling the heat seep into muscles still tense from unpacking.
She'd missed this house.
Missed the overgrown rose bushes her grandmother had never quite tamed. Missed the creaky porch swing and the slightly lopsided birdhouse. Missed the way the garden smelled in July—honeysuckle and earth and something green and alive.
And she'd missed him.
Leon S. Kennedy had been the subject of every teenage fantasy she'd ever had. Ten years her senior, built like a solider, with a jaw that could cut glass and eyes that seemed to see right through you. He'd been polite to her back then—always saying hello, always asking how school was going—but she'd been a child to him. Invisible.
She wasn't invisible now.
She'd known exactly what she was doing when she'd stripped off her sundress behind the azalea bushes. Known the privacy fence was too short. Known his deck overlooked her grandmother's property like a goddamn observation tower.
Her heart had hammered the entire time she'd arranged her towel, every nerve alive with the possibility of being watched.
She hadn't looked up.
That was the game. She couldn't seem to know.
But when she'd rolled onto her back, when she'd arched just so to make her tits lift and separate, she'd felt it. That prickle across her skin. The weight of a gaze not belonging to the sun.
Her nipples had tightened immediately, pressing against nothing but air, and she'd let her fingers drift up to brush against her ribs, just barely avoiding her breasts.
She'd fallen asleep like that, wanting, a secret smile curving her lips.
Day Two — Leon
Leon told himself he wasn't going to watch today.
He'd lain awake half the night, his cock hard and aching, replaying the image of her bare body stretched across the grass. He'd jacked off twice, but it didn't matter. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw those heavy tits, that smooth bare cunt, the soft curve of her thighs.
She's just a girl, he told himself. A kid. You're almost forty. Get a grip.
But forty felt like a number, not a truth. His body was still hard, still strong, still hungry. And when he stepped onto his deck that afternoon with a glass of iced tea, his feet carried him to the railing before his brain could intervene.
The pool glinted in the afternoon light.
She was already there.
Floating on her back in the water, her naked body suspended between sky and chlorine. Water lapped over her tits, her nipples breaking the surface like pink buoys. Her hair fanned out around her head, dark tendrils drifting.
Leon's throat went dry.
She swam lazy laps for a while, her movements fluid and unhurried. He watched the way her ass rose when she kicked, the split of her cheeks visible through the clear water. Watched her tits sway and bounce when she climbed out, water streaming down her belly, her thighs, dripping from the mon above her slit.
She grabbed a towel from a lounger but didn't use it. Instead, she spread it on the concrete beside the pool and lay down on her back, legs apart, arms above her head.
She was posing for him. He knew it. Some part of him knew it.
But the rational part of his brain was drowning in lust.
She's so fucking beautiful. Those tits, those thick thighs. I want to bury my face between her legs and eat her out until she screams. I want to feel her cum on my tongue.
His hand moved to his jeans, unbuckling his belt without thought. He was hard, painfully hard, the head of his cock already wet with precum. He pulled himself out, wrapped his hand around the shaft, and began to stroke.
He watched her hand drift down her stomach, fingers trailing through the wet trail from the pool. She traced her slit, once, twice, then parted her lips.
Even from here, he could see the pink inside. The glistening wetness.
She's touching herself. Right there. In front of me.
His strokes quickened. In his mind, it was his hand between her legs. His fingers sliding inside her, curling, finding that spot. His mouth on her clit, sucking, flicking, until she bucked against his face.
In his fantasy, she came screaming his name. Her thighs clamped around his head, her cunt pulsed, and hot liquid sprayed his chin.
Fuck, I want to taste her. Want to drink her.
On the towel below, she was really going at it. Her middle finger circled her clit in slow, deliberate motions. Her other hand cupped her breast, pinching her nipple. Her hips rolled, her head tilted back, and he could hear—just barely—a low, breathy moan.
Leon's hand was a blur on his cock. He was close, so close, imagining her riding him, her tits bouncing in his face, her mouth open in ecstasy.
He imagined filling her cunt with his cum. Pumping load after load into her, watching it leak down her thighs. Then bending her over and fucking her ass, making her take it deep, making her beg.
God, yes. Take it. Take all of it, you little—
She arched.
Her body went rigid, her back bowing off the towel. Her thighs quivered, and then—Jesus Christ—a stream of clear liquid shot from between her legs, arcing high before splattering onto the concrete. A second pulse followed, then a third.
She was squirting. Right there. In broad daylight. On her grandmother's patio.
Leon's orgasm hit him like a freight train. His cum shot across his deck railing, thick ropes splattering against the wood. He kept stroking, riding it out, his eyes locked on her convulsing body below.
When it was over, she lay limp on the towel, chest heaving. Her legs were still spread, her cunt exposed and glistening, a puddle of her release spreading beneath her hips.
Leon sagged against the railing, panting, his softening cock still in his hand.
Fuck. Fuck me.
He reached down to zip up, ready to slink back inside and pretend this never happened.
Then she sat up.
And turned.
And looked directly at him.
Their eyes met across the fence. Her lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. She didn't look surprised. Didn't look ashamed.
She looked pleased.
"Enjoy the show, Leon?" Her voice carried clear across the yard, light and teasing.
His blood froze.
She knew.
She'd known all along.
And she'd put on that display—every day, every stretch, every touch—for him. She'd wanted him to watch. Wanted him to jerk off to her.
The little slut.
---
Day Two — Y/n
She'd heard his deck door slide open at exactly 2:17 PM.
Y/n floated in the pool, letting the water support her weight, feeling his eyes on her body like a physical touch. She took her time swimming, stretching, making sure every movement was graceful and deliberate.
When she climbed out, she made sure to bend over just enough for him to see her pussy from behind.
When she lay down, she made sure to spread her legs wide.
And when she started touching herself, she made sure to look up at his deck—just once, quick, as if checking the sun—and saw him standing there with his cock in his hand.
Got you.
Her fingers moved with practiced ease, circling her clit in tight motions. She imagined his hand instead of hers. Imagined him coming down those stairs, crossing the lawn, kneeling between her legs. Imagined his mouth, his tongue, his thick fingers.
She worked herself higher, higher, building pressure in her core. Her hips began to rock. Her breath came in short gasps.
He's watching. He's watching me cum.
The thought pushed her over the edge.
She let go completely, her orgasm ripping through her like a wave. Her muscles clenched, her back arched, and she felt the pressure release—a hot gush of liquid shooting from her cunt, splashing onto the concrete, spraying her thighs.
She heard herself moan, loud and shameless.
When she finally came down, trembling and slick, she took a moment to catch her breath. Then she sat up, turned, and met his gaze.
"Enjoy the show, Leon?"
She kept her smile innocent, but her eyes were full of challenge.
He didn't answer. He just stood there, frozen, his cum drying on the railing.
Y/n laughed softly, stood, and gathered her towel. She didn't bother to cover herself as she walked inside, her ass swaying.
She'd won.
And tomorrow, she'd make sure he couldn't resist coming down to claim his prize.