The Neighbor
I am that nice guy neighbor down the street from you, in my
well-kept house. I am friendly and cordial, always with a hello to my
neighbors and a helping hand if asked, but I mostly keep to myself, and
all you can guess of me is that I am either lifelong single or perhaps
divorced a long time ago, but clearly a sweetheart of a guy. There is no
guile to me – what you see is what you get.
I
know similarly little about you. You are that nice woman up the block,
living alone as far as I know, and likewise polite but not intrusive
socially. Little do I know that behind closed doors you have adventures I
only dream of.
One day you get curious and decide
to find out about this quiet neighbor of yours. Perhaps I am gay.
Perhaps I simply wish to be alone. Perhaps I am creepier than I let on.
Perhaps I was just never lucky enough to find that special someone,
and my introvert nature isn’t conducive to chasing women for one-night
stands. (That is your guess, and you are seldom wrong about people.)
So you come over to my house on a Friday
evening, and breezily say, “I’ve seen you for years in the
neighborhood, I think it’s silly that longtime neighbors should not know
each other,” and you invite me over for tea the next day. Being merely
cordial on the outside (but flattered and intrigued on the inside), of
course I say yes.
At 2pm Saturday
I knock on your door. You open it with that patented charming smile of
yours, and I am instantly put at ease. We sit down, have a lovely cup of
tea, find out a little about each other. You quickly figure out that I
am just as nice as you imagined, and probably just as lonely, and you
know your inclinations about me were correct.
Then
you show me a lovely roundish loveseat that you have in
your living room. “Would you like to sit down with me here?” you coyly
say, leaving unsaid the plain fact that the only way we can sit down in
this loveseat is to be cuddled up closely together.
“Of
course,” I say, intrigued at the prospect of being close to you but not
allowing myself to believe that anything more than sitting together is
what you have in mind. I have been alone for so long that I just don’t
think that way anymore.
You invite me to sit down,
and you tell me I’ll have to stretch out lengthwise for both of us to
fit. You invite me to take off my shoes and socks, and of course I do.
You slip in next to me, and the only way we fit on the mini-couch is for
you to cuddle up close to me, put your head on my chest, and let me
wrap my arm around you.
You take a deep breath and whisper, “Isn’t this nice?”
I concur, taking in the fact that I have not been this close to a woman in such a long time.
You
put your hand on my chest and let it lie there, waiting for my
reaction. Knowing men as you do, you can sense the thrill I feel, the
simple yet profound gratitude at feeling a woman’s touch. You slowly
start to move your hand across my chest, back and forth, sharing simple
human touch and putting me into an almost hypnotic state.
Your
questions about me disappear. You know me completely – I am not gay, I
am not anti-social, I am not anti-sexual, I am not afraid of contact –
on the contrary, I crave it perhaps more than anyone you know. You know
that you are the greatest gift there could be in my life.
You
know already that I will do anything you want. Your hand moves over my
chest, over my stomach. You reach up and sensually touch my face, my
eyes, my neck, my ears. You lean over close and kiss my neck as I
convulse with pleasure.
You slowly unbutton my shirt, using a single finger to stroke down my breastbone, making me arch with joy.
My shirt finally open, you lean over and place your lips over my nipple, licking it and driving me wild with desire.
As
for me, I still cannot believe this. Never in my life has such a casual
encounter turned into this kind of life-changing experience. This just
doesn’t happen.
You know exactly what I’m
thinking. You know I still can’t register that this is really happening.
“But it is,” you think to yourself with a knowing smile. You know
exactly what you are doing to me, you know how enthralled I am, and you
love the power you have in being able to give such pleasure.
My
shirt fully unbuttoned, you finally make it plainly sexual. Your hand
goes down, down, down, until you are circling my cock, but of course it
was at full attention long before you got this far. My eyes are closed, I
can no longer think, I am hypnotized by the pleasure.
Finally
you stand up, and wordlessly take my hand. You help me stand up (I am
nearly helpless), and you lead me over to the massage table. My shirt
already unbuttoned, you kneel down, unbutton my pants, and take them
down along with my boxers. I am nude before you.
You
grasp me by the and and lead me to the massage table. I feel I am in a
different universe, I still do not grasp that this is the sexual world I
lost so long ago.
You lay me down on the massage
table, put a pillow behind my head, and then wordlessly grasp a cord you
have nearby and tie it to my left ankle, and then to the support post
on the massage table. You repeat the same with my right.
Still in my semi-hypnotic state, I lie there and comply wordlessly.
You
then grasp my left wrist, and similarly tie it to the massage table
support to my upper left, and then do the same with my right wrist.
I
am now tied down, helpless. I know what is happening but my logical
brain can’t accept it. In fact, all of my thinking capabilities are shut
down. I am in the moment, simply experiencing, with no idea and no
expectation of what will come next.
Now
it’s your turn. You understand full well what mush you’ve turned me
into, and you are fully aware that at this point I am your sexual slave.
So you decide why not take some pleasure for yourself. A couple of touches, a couple of licks, and I am fully erect.
You
position yourself over me and mount me. I am helpless, I can do nothing
but twitch uncontrollably. You have utter control. You move up and
down, back and forth, in and out, finding whatever motions maximize your
own pleasure. I am your plaything. You know your own body best, and you
use that to your advantage. You build your own pleasure, bit by bit by
bit, until you are trembling.
As for me, I have
entered an unknown world. The pleasure I feel and the mental place I’m
in are completely foreign to me. All I know is that this is better than I
ever imagined Heaven could be.
You tremble and
climax - once, twice, a third time. In my muddled mental state, I lose
count. Four times? Seven times? Who am I to know. But I see your face,
distorted by the pleasure, and even in my compromised state I am
gratified.
With
you finally satiated, now you narrow your eyes and decide it’s my turn.
You sit on the table, slide your thighs under mine, and move close so
your mouth is positioned directly over my cock.
I cannot believe any of this.
You
bend over, close your mouth over me, and begin to deliver the greatest
pleasure I have ever experienced. I twitch, I convulse, I lose all
control. But I am helpless. I cannot stop this no matter what I do. I
surrender to the fact that I am yours.
I have no idea what you do. I have no idea who I am. I have no idea that a world outside this room even exists.
And why should I?
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