Last night, after tucking in Peyton, I planned on watching one of my new $5 movies from the discount rack at Best Buy, making some popcorn on the stovetop, and lounging on my couch. A royal date with myself.
My plans were slightly changed, however, with a two word text, “Movie tonight??”
I told him I was starting bedtime with Peyton, but sure, I’d text him when I was free. He said he’d be ready in 40 minutes. I teased him for being a weirdo and dove into the fine literature that is Mr. Stingy and Little Miss Sunshine among others.
Peyton kissed and loved on me as we plowed our way through five books. I hadn’t finished the last one when there was a loud knock at the front door. Had it been 40 minutes already?? Reality and adulthood aren’t the only things that were different in Neighborland, apparently.
Peyton raced to the door with me and squealed when The Neighbor‘s lean frame walked in. I quickly showed him the three movies he had to choose from and returned to Peyton’s room to snuggle and keep reading.
I felt good. In the past, I might have cut Peyton’s bedtime routine short, but not tonight. Tonight, my baby came first and my promises to the little heart of which I’m in charge. TN could entertain himself.
I finished the book and kissed cheeks and a nose, said lots of I love you, toos, and closed the door smiling and filled with motherly love. TN met me in the hallway.
He was wearing a black tshirt and shorts. I was wearing gun metal grey boy shorts panties and my breasts hung freely beneath a white Gap v-neck, my areolas large and dark. “Hy, I need you to do three things for me.” He stood a foot away, looking down at me.
“Ok,” I smiled.
“First, pick a movie in that way you do.” He held his hands behind his back and I looked at him questioningly. “You know, you pick one and then you know if you really wanna watch it or not.”
“I choose your left,” and I tapped his shoulder. He brought around Seven. “Ok! I definitely don’t wanna watch that. Total Recall it is!”
“Second, I want you to do this 5k with me in December.” He led me to my desktop where he’d pulled up the main page while I was busy. “It looks like so much fun!”
My head spun. December?? With me?? Wha-?? I stammered and was non-committal, though I couldn’t deny it did look like a lot of fun. “What’s the third thing?”
“I need you to smell my shorts.” He grinned stupidly. “Well, my clean shorts. They’re my favorites and I can’t get the smell of mold out of them. They’re in the dryer now.”
With the three things settled, he grabbed us a bottle of wine and I made us some popcorn. We settle into our usual spots on the couch. A sensitive, buzzing Hy and an oblivious, horny Neighbor.
We giggled over Arnold’s jiggling biceps, exclaimed over Sharon Stone’s gorgeousness, and laughed at the special effects and futuristic props. And with each passing minute our bodies moved closer, ever the rutting magnets.
I began to stroke his cock from outside his slippery basketball shorts and felt him leap to life beneath my hand, my obedient hound. I stroked the curve of his muscular thigh and he flexed against me with silent assent.
I fondled his balls and massaged his ankles, my eyes never left the tv until finally he sat up and pulled my t-shirt down to take my nipple in his mouth. I closed my eyes and focused on the pressure, the slight pain. I fluttered my eyes open to see his scruffy face pressed into me and gasped.
TN stood and said,”Let’s go lay down,” I was reluctant.
“Lemme go check on Peyton first.”
“Ok, but don’t worry, we’re just going to lay down.”
My baby lay crosswise across the bed, fast asleep. I pulled up the sheets and turned out the light and crossed the hall to my room. It was dark and I could only barely make out a charcoal-smudge of a head against my white pillows. A succulent amuse bouche just for my dining pleasure.
“Come lay down, Hy,” he drawled.
Like a blind person I patted my way towards him. “That’s right. Just like that.” He peeled back the sheets so my hands could find him, naked and resplendently hard. “Mmm,” he moaned when my hands found his turgid shaft.
He scooted over and pulled me down with him. He kissed my neck and found my breasts again, his hands were hot and heavy on me. “Take this off,” he whispered and tugged on my shirt. Together we whisked it over my head and he moved quickly to hover over me between my open thighs.
He pulled my panties aside to stroke me. “Fuck, you’re wet,” he managed to say before sitting up tall and slowly sliding in, my underwear stretched out of the way.
Each thrust caused heat to flush my chest, arms, and face. I arched my back and clamped down on his cock with all my might. My hands roamed over his shoulders and threaded through his clipped chest hair. I felt scorched.
“I lied to you last night,” I confessed in whimpering pants. “I wasn’t really sore. I just wasn’t up for it. I didn’t know how to tell you.”
He smiled down at me wickedly, his cock doing crueler things to me, “I know. There’s no way your pussy would have still been sore. And I understand being afraid to say the truth.” His hips kept pistoning into me.
“Please,” I gasped, “Please take off my underwear. I can’t stand having it touch me.” He chortled and swiftly disengaged, ripped them down my leg and rejoined me, burying himself deeply inside of me.
“Better?” he growled into my ear. My response was to buck against him hard. He pounded into me, my pussy squelched with wetness, my cries quiet and sincere.
“You feel so good,” I sobbed. “Does it feel good for you?”
“God, yes, it does. Yes–” he broke off as he railed into me, my legs pinned above my head, my toes curled around swirls of iron.
I climaxed and bawled and sniffled and laughed until he finally climbed off of me and silently walked into my dark bathroom. He returned with a towel.
“No, please. I can’t,” I whimpered.
“Oh, yes you can,” he said authoritatively. He rolled me to my side and tucked the towel beneath my bottom.
“But it’s not fair. You haven’t cum yet, and I have.”
“I’m not cumming tonight, baby. I’m sorry.” My ears hung on the word “baby.” He’s so seldom ever called me any kind of term of endearment.
“But–” I start.
“No buts. I love this,” and he lay across my belly and trapped my left hand with his. My right hand couldn’t reach past his back. I was restrained in a cage of his body.
He dipped his hand inside of me and began to move. I concentrated on pinching off my faucet, but it was futile. A ball of heat came up and over me and I filled his hand with liquid. Again and again and again.
He cooed at me, told me I was amazing, told me how much he loved that I did this, how fucking hot it was.
When he was through with me he crawled over and pulled me into his arms. I was jelly, useless, happy. My mind lulled into a state of helpless pleasure like a drunken bear.
I pulled myself up and straddled him and leaned over to let him suckle my warm teats. He marveled at my breasts, his voice muffled at first, but then I heard, “It was pretty cool that Noodle could cum from nipple stimulation.”
I sat up. “Yeah, it is. But you’re not supposed to talk about that with me, remember?” He played dumb for a second then remembered. I felt nothing. Not anger, not hurt. I felt like he was an errant little boy testing the waters. This was quintessential TN. “It was pretty hot when you were sucking her tits, though,” I offered, changing the subject.
“Yeah, but she’s more sensitive than you. And I like to suck hard.” As if to demonstrate, he grabbed me and pulled me down and pressed my breasts together to take both nipples in his mouth at once. My middle quickened and I moaned a little moan, then I collapsed back into his arms.
“Let’s go finish that movie,” I suggested. We got dressed and snuggled on the couch. He hid my eyes for me whenever he knew a gruesome scene was coming and wouldn’t let me look until he was certain it was over. He used my hip for a pillow.
When it was time to go I stood to give him a hug. He held me tightly, thanked me and left.
It wasn’t until this morning that I realized our lips never touched.