The word "neighborhood" reminds me of "danchi wives." I can't help but assume that women who are home during the day must be horny.
In the afternoon sun, the Danchi wives are always looking for something, waiting for someone—today is no exception!
After working the night shift and taking a nap, I sat on a bench in the apartment complex park, eating a bento from a convenience store and watching the danchi wives as usual.
I came to Park B, a shady corner of the complex, but it's still hot.
From the park bench, I could see Buildings A through D clearly.
The strong afternoon sun illuminated the laundry on the balconies of Buildings A and B, which swayed in the wind like decorations at a school art festival.
Then, I spotted a figure moving busily on the third-floor balcony of colorful Building A.
Today's danchi wife!
She's probably taking in the laundry or cleaning the balcony.
I can't tell her age from here, but I see that she's wearing a bright yellow dress that seems to be sleeveless. The skirt falls to around her knees and sways softly as she moves.
From her outfit, I can tell she's a young danchi wife.
Holding my half-eaten bento, I walked closer to Building A.
The balcony side of the building is cleverly divided into rectangular flower beds and small vegetable gardens, probably started by one of the residents.
Pretending to admire the flowers, I finished my bento, sneaking glances up at the third-floor balcony.
The woman in yellow was busy going back and forth on the narrow balcony.
Occasionally, I could almost see inside her swaying skirt through the gaps in the balcony railing.
I could see her knees and thighs, but the lining of her dress prevented me from seeing more.
I moved even closer to the building, trying hard to peek from directly underneath, but my efforts were in vain.
This kind of thing happens often.
I gave up and sat on the brick edge of the flower bed. I finished the rest of my bento and swapped the empty box in the convenience store bag for a can of Chu-Hi. I tied the bag shut and tossed it into a nearby basket with a "pon."
I slowly stood up, opened the pull-tab of the Chu-Hi with a "pshhht," gulped down about half of it, and returned to the park bench.
I dozed off on the bench again, staring blankly at the colorful balconies for a while. Suddenly, everything turned yellow, and I panicked as my vision blurred.
After rubbing my eyes, my vision returned to normal, and there she was, the woman in the yellow dress, standing firmly in front of me.
"Hey, you! Can't you take your trash with you?! She was angry.
Shouting this, she thrust the convenience store bag I had discarded right in front of my face.
"I'm sorry. It's so hot that my head is fuzzy. I might have mistaken it for a trash can."
I took the bag from her hand as I said that.
"I saw you from my balcony! That's my family's vegetable garden, so don't dirty it! Ugh!"
"Ah, I'm sorry. Ah, that garden over there. You should pinch off the side shoots on your tomatoes sometimes."
"Huh?!"
"They were growing quite a bit. But your bitter melons are impressive. You have lots of big ones growing."
"Ah, I get so busy that I forget about maintenance! The bitter melons grow on their own, so they're easy. But they produce so much that it's hard to use them all!"
She said this with a smile, and I felt relieved.
"Ah, that's right! Do you like bitter melon? I have plenty. I'll give you some. They turn yellow and rot quickly."
"Eh, is that okay?!" (Smirking)
We started walking toward the garden.
Seeing her up close, I could tell that she was quite young, maybe around thirty or still in her twenties.
Maybe it was because she was angry, but her eyes were sharp. She wasn't exactly beautiful, but she had clear features and was attractive—my type.
Maybe her kid is in kindergarten, or perhaps she's trying to get pregnant.
The chest of her dress was slightly stretched out and sagging. If she leaned forward, her cleavage might be visible.
Honestly, her bust is on the smaller side. Seeing that, I don't think she has children.
The white bra visible from the large armhole of her sleeveless dress gave off a cheap vibe, too.
Her legs, visible beneath her skirt, were slim from the knees to the calves, suggesting a good figure.
As for her feet, she was barefoot in slip-on sandals, exuding a common, vulgar sexiness.
Combined with her irritable demeanor, I concluded that she was suited for a "standing doggy style."
This is the danchi wife.
I thought we were going to the garden, but she said she had already harvested enough at home and went into Building A.
As she walked ahead of me up the stairs, I got a lewd view of her swaying skirt and hips swinging left and right.
I spotted a loose white thread on the hem of her skirt and smirked.
Looking at the back of her dress, I saw that a hook above the zipper was undone.
I smirked at such a sloppy detail.
"With that, the zipper could easily be opened, and her skirt could be taken off," I imagined, walking behind her.
Peta peta—her sandals slapped against the stairs as we climbed to the third floor. When we arrived at her apartment, she turned the doorknob with a "gacha."
Had she rushed out? The door seemed carelessly unlocked.
"I'll go get them right away. Please wait a moment," she said as she opened the door and stepped into the entranceway. She slipped off her sandals.
I stepped inside without hesitation, quietly closed the door so it wouldn't make a sound, and waited on the entryway floor.
Data, data—the sound of her bare feet quickly walking on the linoleum floor, followed by rustling as she rummaged through something in the back room.
While I waited, I looked around the messy entrance area and spotted a cardboard box in front of the shoe cabinet.
I looked inside the box and said loudly,
"These are impressive potatoes! Did you grow these in your garden down there?"
From the back room, she answered laughingly.
"No, those were sent from my parents' place. Would you like some potatoes too?"
"Ah, sorry. Did I sound like I was asking for something again?"
"It's fine. I have more than I can eat."
With that, she returned with two large bitter melons in a plastic bag.
"They're huge! And so bumpy!"
"Yeah, they're big, right? Oh, but then the potatoes won't fit..."
The woman stood in front of the potato box, spread her legs wide, and squatted down right there.
The way she squatted, pinning the cardboard box between her thighs, was vulgar and lewd.
She placed the plastic bag with the bitter melons on the floor and leaned forward to peer into the box.
She rummaged through the potatoes with her hands, picking out the good ones and placing them on her skirt, which stretched taut over her knees like a tent.
The weight of the potatoes caused the skirt to bend, and one potato rolled into her crotch.
When she placed the second potato, the weight shifted the skirt, revealing her kneecaps.
A reddish-black mark on her knee, perhaps from a bug bite or scab, added to her aura.
She picked up the plastic bag from the floor and took out one bitter melon, placing it on the floor.
I stood beside her, looking down and watching her every move.
From the gaping neckline of her dress, I could see her cleavage and cheap white bra.
"These potatoes are big, too," I said, crouching down and moving closer to her from behind at an angle.
Her cleavage became more visible, and a bead of sweat appeared on the soft, rounded upper part of her breast.
Each time she moved her arm, the neckline of her dress opened, revealing the space between her bra and breast. I caught a glimpse of her flattened nipple.
"See? It's big, right?" she said. She picked up a potato, held it up to her eyes, and put it in the plastic bag.
She put in the second potato, lifted the bag, and said, "See? Amazing! They're so big, the bag is full!"
In the plastic bag she held up with both hands were two large, round potatoes, with a towering, thick, enormous bitter melon sandwiched between them.
"See?! ... Oh! ... Kyaa!"
Looking at the bag she was holding, what did she imagine?
Her face suddenly flushed red and she almost dropped the plastic bag, losing her balance in the process.
"Ah, careful!" I supported her and the bag as she was about to fall.
My palm touched the sweat-dampened fabric of her dress when I placed it on her back.
As I helped her regain her balance, I took advantage of the confusion to lower the zipper on her back a little.
The thick bitter melon almost tumbled out of the bag she was holding to her chest, and she flapped her hands in a panic.
As she tried to secure the melon, a potato fell and rolled under her skirt.
"Oh, dear..." The flustered woman leaned forward to look for the potato that had rolled away.
Because I had opened the zipper, her dress slipped down her right shoulder, exposing her bra strap, but she didn't notice.
Furthermore, when she turned to look at me while squatting, the contents of her skirt were fully visible.
Perhaps unaware of this, too, she spread her legs and searched for the potato near her feet.
Her cheap, white, cotton panties, probably bought from the women's clothing section of a supermarket, showed the dark shadow of her pubic hair through the damp fabric.
The thin lining that gathered at her waist further accentuated her vulgar sex appeal.
The large potato had stopped, snugly stuck to the crotch of her panties.
Even the line of her vulva would probably be visible if I moved it.
I promptly reached toward her crotch, grabbed the potato, and stopped.
"Ah! No... Ahn..."
Did she think I was going to touch her there?
If so... I pressed the potato firmly against her crotch, rubbing it, and then picked it up.
The woman seemed to have felt something.
I acted completely calmly.
Still holding the bag of bitter melons protectively to her chest, the woman plopped down onto the floor.
I checked the potato in my hand and saw that part of its skin was cleanly exposed, as if dried soil had been wiped off with a wet wipe.
"Shall I hold the bitter melons too?" I asked in a calm tone while immediately reaching out to take them from her chest.
As I grabbed the bitter melons, I pretended to make a mistake and deliberately touched her breast.
"Ah, there... Ah, ah, thank you..."
The woman's face turned bright red as she crossed her arms in front of her chest and looked down.
"Um... Could I have the bag, too?"
"Eh?!" She looked up at me. Her eyes were somewhere between fearful and expectant.
"Ah, sorry!"
Flustered, she thrust out the plastic bag she was holding.
I touched her hand, enveloping it, and took the bag, which contained only one potato.
Then, I put the potato and the bitter melon that I had been holding into the plastic bag again and held it up in front of her.
"See? They're such splendid things; they look delicious, don't you think?"
The woman stared wide-eyed at the bag as a frightened expression spread across her face.
Copious sweat broke out on her forehead and flowed down her cheeks and over her neck, pooling in the hollow of her collarbone.
Her yellow dress clung to her damp skin in places, making it appear dull ochre.
Her right shoulder was exposed where the dress had slipped, and it was drenched in sweat, as if she had just bathed.
The sweat must have also soaked the underwear beneath her dress.
"It's hot again today, isn't it?!"
"Eh?"
For some reason, her surprised gesture sent the sweat that had pooled in the hollow of her chest sliding down in one go.
"Hiiii!"
"Are you okay?"
"No... It's nothing."
"It can't be nothing."
Saying this, I slowly approached the woman sitting petan on the floor.
With a frightened expression, she leaned back, as if about to fall, and put her hands on the floor behind her.
From the momentum, the shoulder of her dress slipped down further, fully exposing her breast in her bra.
As she tried to scoot backward with one knee raised, she exposed her damp, soiled underwear to me again.
I picked up the thick, bumpy bitter melon that had rolled onto the floor and held it out in front of her.
As if resigned, the woman closed her eyes, and just like that, I pushed her down.
"Ma'am! Aaaaah... Nooo... Stop, I can feel it!"
Today, the danchi wife discovered the bitter melon as a toy. After that, she could often be seen diligently tending to her home garden.