What was his name? I’ll have to Google it. Norman Rockwell. Yes, that guy.I wasted no time moving in, and it was after I got settled and began to check out the neighbors that I realized I had hit the jackpot.The place was crawling with men. Good looking, fit men, mostly Air Force types. Across the street, down the street and even on both sides of me.I already told you about my encounter with the neighbor to my right (“Air Force Weenie”) whose frigid girlfriend wouldn’t suck his dick. But the fellow to my left – whoa! Imagine my delight when I discovered it was jogging boy!I made a point of being outside as much as possible because that was the only way I would meet him short of going over there and knocking on the door. Good thing he kept the place up by doing yard work and exterior house maintenance. After a few innocent hellos and good mornings, we began to chat a little. I learned his name was Scott and he was newly married to Julia (who was never home, by the way). They were both. Since Sheila and I both worked, I told Carol that I needed to learn how to cook some simple meals. She laughed and called Olivia into the room. She told me that Olivia was a great cook and could show me and Sheila a few pointers. Olivia didn't seem too happy about it but she did come over a couple of times a week and showed me how to make simple dinners like spaghetti and a few other dishes.I always arrived home first and we would start dinner. Sheila would show up an hour later. As much as I hate to admit it, I loved the time I spent learning to cook with Olivia. She was always smiling and laughed at my mistakes.After the three of us ate dinner Olivia would go home. She said she had to finish her homework. Sheila and I would cuddle and watch TV. The bigger she got the less she wanted to go out. I told her she looked beautiful, pregnant and all.We stayed away from the club for months. Sheila didn't want to go there with her big belly. I told her she wasn't the only woman to ever have.
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