I woke with a start, daylight streaming in through my window. I had removed my skirt and bra, but lay beneath the rumpled covers in my t-shirt and panties. My heart raced for no discernible reason.
I checked my phone and saw that The Neighbor had called. It was his birthday and he was due to arrive any minute and none of what I’d planned to do that day had been done — things such as fold the laundry in the living room, take a shower, or prep dinner. The need for sleep had so overwhelmed me an hour before that I had staggered into my room and flung myself down and promptly passed out. I frowned and punched in “call back.”
“Happy birthday!” I lamely croaked for the second time that day. “Where are you?”
His plan had been to work all day then come over for dinner and fucking.
“I’m standing outside my door, but I can be there in 5 minutes! See you soon! Love you!”
“Love you, too,” I mumbled.
I stretched and thought, Thank God! and felt the heaviness of sleep creep back over me and press me down into my mattress. Five whole minutes more!
Seconds later, he was filling my door and I jerked awake. “Well, hello there,” he said and sauntered in unbuckling his belt. Sex was the last thing on my mind, my face stung, sleep still hung heavy around my neck, I felt like shit a hundred different ways.
I snuggled down into my bed and stretched again, watched him peel his clothes off as he came around to his side of the bed, and wrapped my arm around him when he scooted in beside me. Fuck it, I can cuddle, I thought.
We talked for a bit, about us finally being in the same decade now, and what I had planned for dinner (lamb chops with cherry wine sauce and mint, scallops, pureed acorn squash, and asparagus). I thread my fingers through his chest hair and teased his tiny nipple as he stroked my arm. I was beginning to feel better.
And then he made a decision. He didn’t verbalize it, but he personified it. He got up and kicked Faisal out, tail held high in indignation, and turned to me with a surprising erection. I hadn’t noticed it while playing in the fields of his chest hair.
He teased me and said for his birthday I had to pet his velvety, hair-free balls (“I shaved them just for you!”). I laughed and stroked his sac, much as I would the cat. He even purred a little and his cock bobbed just above my head from where he stood, feet planted wide.
“Put them in your mouth,” he suggested.
I tried. But they’re too big to fit together and I rotated between one then the other and he giggled. I guess it tickled a little.
And then I wasn’t feeling fatigue anymore. I wanted to please this man, newly 30, ambiguously positioned in my life. I wanted to have some fun for a change.
I gripped his shaft with my hand and pulled him over to fuck my face, opened wide and took it in as far as I could. A pitiful amount, really, but I’m no deep-throat and he’s abnormally large.
I slobbered and sucked and moved my hand in random, unpredictable ways and then stopped and repositioned him on the bed and I crouched between his massive thighs and let loose with my hair, my saliva, my swinging tits.
He clenched his muscles and began to tremble. I moaned a little knowing he was close to cumming and pinched my eyes closed tight, wishing it would happen. And then he relaxed with no explosion in my mouth.
I let off of him to give him a break, kissed his upper thighs, his belly, let him suckle on my heavy, hanging breasts. I marveled at him as my breast disappeared into his bearded face, his closed eyes and distant attention so like that of a nursing babe, yet simultaneously manly and erotic.
He popped off and I popped back onto him until he’d had enough and threw me on my back and pulled my panties off. They got hooked on my foot and he laughed as I swung them around a bit for show.
He nestled himself between my knees and hooked his fingers into me. I jumped and locked my eyes on his for a split second. He looked devilish, happy, intense. I closed my eyes and let his hand rock me to two, three orgasms and I blocked my spray with my hand and an embarrassed grimace. His grunts of satisfaction told me he liked the mess I made when I squirt.
Trembling, happy, surprised I felt him moving over me and then pushing into me. So easy. But he was enormous that afternoon, almost too big. I begged him to be gentle and he only squinted at me and pushed deeper, slowly plowing into my softness.
I moaned again and gripped the rails of my headboard and then he took us on such a ride. I bloomed and blossomed, screamed and scowled, cried and crumpled. He pounded into me like a hanged man, for all he was worth.
He bit and nipped my neck and I clawed at his shoulders and flanks. As the orgasms came from deep within I felt tears hitchhiking their way closer to the surface.
It’d been months since we’d had sex like this: wild, abandoned, deep and powerful. The intensity of it all unhinged me and the sadness I’ve been keeping tucked away peeked its little head out and said, “I’ve missed this.” And then the tears came.
I sobbed and cried out in passion, imagined I looked like a hot, blubbering mess, but he kept at me. His tempo increased as my sobs became louder and they rolled through me not unlike the orgasms they rode beside.
He flipped me over and I left black tread marks from my wet, mascaraed eyes. I raised my rear and let him bury himself in me, my legs pinned together, my waist pinched by his clutching hands. I rocked back on him as hard as I could until I thought that life was nothing more than this moment, this connection, this effort and then he was spent.
He never came, but then again, he never does.
I lay there panting, basking, but apparently he wasn’t done. He jumped up, grabbed something out of my drawer, then ran out of the room. When he returned, I felt a tap on my shoulder with something cold and hard. It was my little pink vibrator.
Somehow I mustered the energy to flip over, my hair wrapped around my face like a wayward scarf in the wind. He handed it to me and lay beside me. “I want to watch you stroke yourself,” I said huskily.
“Mmmkay,” he replied and wrapped his hand around his glistening cock.
The little pink vibrator [that could] buzzed it’s little high pitched buzz and my eyes latched onto the pale, hairy, muscular man next to me choking a 9 inch chicken.
His breath began to quicken, his legs began to flex. My own orgasm seemed distant, but ready. I was mesmerized by the swiftness of his hands, the reaction of his body. “Cum on your belly, TN, cum on your chest. I want to see you spray cum all over your chest,” I suddenly said.
He convulsed and pearl-colored fluid spurted out exactly where I had wanted. I returned to my own body and zeroed in on the buzz. Thirty seconds later I was arching and gasping, TN’s mouth full of my breast.
We flopped back down and smiled at each other, kissed. And then we heard a “meow” and Faisal jumped up between his legs and attempted to walk up his belly. And stepped in a little glob of spooge.
The romantic, passionate moment was over. We laughed, horrified, and he tossed the now offended cat off the bed, both of us mildly traumatized and trying not to think about what would happen next.
We showered and kissed and got dressed. I made us dinner and we cuddled and fell asleep with smiles on our faces.
The next day we spent with friends on the river and The Neighbor welcomed his Thirtieth Year with some college-age vomiting and high spirits. God, I love it when he loses control. I’m a sick bastard like that.
And the following day he invited me to look at apartments with him. I was surprised and thrilled.
I’d already driven all over the place, Peyton in tow with pockets (and mouth) stuffed with leasing-office-treats, and narrowed down my favorites. Sadly, my complex was more than he wanted to spend and the amenities not as nice as some comparably priced places. He had some new ones on his list so off we zipped in his fancy black car.
Or so I thought. He stopped just past my gate and pulled into my leasing office. “Let’s check this place out first,” he announced.
We chatted with Matt the leasing guy and went and visited a 2/2 about 12 ft from my front door. He loved the layout, but didn’t like the idea of being smooshed between two floors. Honestly, I wasn’t sure how I felt about the proximity. My Doomsday Hy’s voice loud in my ear, “WHAT IF IT DOESN’T WORK OUT? Then you’re stuck next door again!” Flashbacks of seeing his car, her car, hearing high heels in the hallways.
Matt showed him a 3rd floor unit behind the pool and TN took notes. We thanked him and headed out.
Being with him was easy like Sunday morning. We laughed, we teased, we made disgusting innuendos. He really is my best friend — if best friends are sometimes oddly reclusive and never spend 24 hrs straight with you — but anyway, it was wonderful driving all over town with him, the wind in my hair and feeling needed.
In the end, I saw him thank Office Lady #6 and then march right back to my front office and sign a lease for the building behind the pool, three buildings and a dog park away from mine.
He is still the neighbor.