I masturbated in his bed while he was at work.

I am a stickler for privacy. I personally don’t need much, but I’m extremely sensitive to others’ needs, particularly The Neighbor’s. I’ve had access to his apartment for more than a year and I think I’ve popped over 5 times while he wasn’t at home and only one of those he didn’t know (I left some things by his front door when I was moving). And even with his permission I feel like I’ve entered some kind of foreign, enchanted forest; I must watch my every step lest I discover some evil troll lurking behind the couch (or in the computer).

I had an exboyfriend years ago whose extra-relationship activities repeatedly — and magically — appeared before me, though back then I had no idea I was in an enchanted forest. I don’t remember the details now (it was nearly 15 years ago), but what I do recall is that I was following my natural, stupidly guileless curiosity down forest paths, my basket filled with cookies for Grandma and my little red hood over my eyes.

Imagine my surprise while looking through boxes of his old photos with a little nostalgic smile on my face thinking, “Aw, look at Joey, isn’t he so young and sweet?” I also stumbled upon negatives of his exwife in various stages of undress. I can’t unsee her negative-vulva, guys. Or my surprise when I went to my History in our computer’s browser to find a link I’d used and I found links he’d used to post pics of the exwife on some kind of file-sharing site. He wasn’t posting pics of me, just her. Or my surprise when I found their polaroids in the same box he said he stored the Polaroid camera. UGH.

To say that I learned my lesson is an understatement. While I may not need much privacy, others certainly do and I honor that. The Neighbor, being wildly different from me, covets his and far be it from me to ever shake his private, furry tree.

That being said, I’m not beyond using those invisible parameters to my advantage.

A couple of weeks ago TN gave me permission to enter his apartment to borrow a cookie sheet.  I climbed the 3 sets of stairs and took a deep breath when I saw his door at the top.

I opened the door and peeked inside, his clothes were strewn about everywhere and nearly every light was on. Different world, indeed. That sense of being where I shouldn’t was as strong that day as any other despite my pass and I practically tip-toed into the kitchen to get the sheet. I pulled it out and set it on the kitchen island and took in my surroundings. It was quiet, masculine. The work I’d done on his place made it homey and his own contributions made it look decidedly lived in. I looked at his bedroom door and at the unmade bed beyond. And a decision was made.

I smiled, gathered my courage (and my phone), and walked in. Kicked off my loafers, peeled off the cardigan, grabbed the *Doxy from his nightstand and laid down.

My heart beat fast and heavy. The scent of a slumbering TN surrounded me in his pillows and bedding, his fan whirred quietly above me. I snapped some pics, began to relax.

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I punched the ON button on the Doxy and let its deep, gentle vibrations begin to scour my senses clean of concern. I kept my eyes open, drinking in all his stuff. The clothes on the dresser, the candles, the lamp. I came hard and writhed on his sheets. I switched my phone to video and came again and talked to him, let him see exactly where I was. Then a third time. I thought about all the times he’d sneaked into my bed while I was away and jerked off for me there while wearing my panties, him pulling on his big dusky pink meat until he choked out ropes of semen all over his belly. I came a fourth and fifth time then was spent.

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Satiated and feeling like I belonged, I texted all the photos and the video. He was very pleased.

Before I left I needed a pen and padded softly into his office, opened the drawer I knew I could find them and gingerly pulled one out. I kept my eyes down away from whatever might be laying around, the monitors were dark. I quickly used the pen and gently closed the drawer when suddenly the monitors flickered on. My eyes were instantly drawn to them and my heart lurched.   No!  No forest trolls, please!  Memories of Joey’s escapades flashed through my mind then in a split second washed away.  There was nothing there.

I breathed deeply and quickly left. But not before I turned off all the lights.

 

[Ed. Note: *Doxy post will be coming soon!]

24 thoughts on “I masturbated in his bed while he was at work.

  1. This was so worth the wait. I love everything about this. Very sexy hot pics, Hy. When Coach and I first met he was renting a house and had a couple of roommates that would come and go. I was so worried about those same forest trolls. I had an experience with my ex husband during our separation when I discovered a whole bunch of forest trolls that were living there when I was living there, too. I was always relieved when I went to Coach’s house and did not see a single troll.

  2. Yum!
    😀
    (and I thought I’d found your comment from the other post in my spam… but apparently it was a different comment to a different post. I cannot find it any more now that I’ve approved it!) Sigh!

  3. If only they were all like you! Great story!

    I’m thinking boob day should be ‘pink’ in honor of breast cancer awareness.

  4. Woweeee!!!

    Completely understand all your concerns about privacy. I’m a firm believer in becareful the questions you ask, you may not like the answers. That goes for snooping, prying, etc… Something’s are better left unknown.

    You’re a very sexy woman Hy.

    xo

    • Yep, exactly! The whole, “While I was doing his laundry and making sure his pockets were empty” thing is about the same as saying, “While putting my daughter’s clothes away I discovered her diary [and oops, I read it!].” My experience with Joey taught me A LOT. Bottom line was I wasn’t respecting his privacy (particularly with the old pics thing). I dunno, I believe it’s important to maintain a sense of otherness in all relationships. I don’t have the right to know EVERYTHING. Even saying that I end up envisioning myself inside someone. Creepy. PLUS, I believe we can’t control pain, betrayal, and loss. I just try to pick people who’ll avoid doing those things to me deliberately and throw the rest up to the powers that be.

  5. Respect for privacy, esp. that of another and moreso that of a lover is paramount in my opinion. Makes for good relationships, simple as that.
    As to your little adventure on his bed, fabulous. What a gift you gave him, videoing it.

    • Privacy = respect in my mind. I can’t actually control for anything else (what he does, etc.), just me. Besides, if I don’t trust him, what am I doing with him anyway??

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