A Good Neighbor

It’s only 11 a.m., and I’m already feeling overwhelmed. I’m making another coffee in hopes of turning the day around, as if the combination of caffeine and sugar is some sort of magic elixir. As I am praying for the vibes to change, I hear a knock on the door. I swear, if this is my landlord, I’m going to need super human strength to pretend to care.

When I open the door, the first thing I notice is a pair of my thong underwear—the one with the coffee mugs on it. Oh my God, why is my thong not inside my house? I brace myself for embarrassment as I see the hands holding onto the soft fabric. Wait, I recognize those hands. Oh my God. They’re strong hands, tan and wrinkled from years of work.

I look up from those hands, and see one of my neighbors—the silver fox who always has a smile on his chiseled face and frequently goes golfing. I think he’s around retirement age—I see him pack up his car with golfing gear at least three times a week—but I’ve always thought he was really sexy. I blink back to reality and say hello. He replies with a smile and "good morning."

“I’m sorry to bother you,” he says, holding up the scrap of fabric with an amused smile. “I was doing laundry and found this in my clothes while folding them. I think it may be yours since we were both doing laundry around the same time?”

I look back at the small piece of coffee themed fabric in his hands, and know it is indeed mine. My luck. I go to set my mug down and reach for the thong, my hand brushing against his. I feel a slight static shock from the laundry, and a shiver goes down my spine. I think to myself that his hands feel surprisingly soft for someone who looks so rough.

I struggle to shift back into conversation mode as the blood rushes to my embarrassed cheeks. “Thank you so much! Um, come in. Do you want a coffee?” I chatter at him while I toss the thong onto my bed in the other room. He stands a bit awkwardly in the doorway before nodding.

“As long as it’s not too much trouble.”

I wave off his concerns and walk into the apartment to grab him a mug. I motion for him to come and sit down while I prep his coffee cup.

“How do you take it?”

“Just some sugar if you’ve got it.”

I start pouring the steaming coffee. “How are you doing? How’s your family?” I ask. I don’t have the energy to pretend my life is going well, so I’m hoping he’s got some good stories I can enjoy vicariously.

As he answers, I pass over his cup of coffee and the bowl of sugar. 

“What about you?,” he asks while putting two lumps of sugar into his coffee. 

“Um, it’s certainly been interesting,” I respond, trying to hide my disappointment in my recent setbacks.

“Oh?” he said, reading between the lines with ease. “How so?”

I sigh, rubbing my temple. “Still hunting for a job, still applying here and there.”

“That’s rough, but I’m sure you’ll find something. What are you looking for?”

“Preferably something within my field—something to do with writing. I love it, so hopefully it doesn’t feel like work, right?”

“Have you had much luck in the new year?”

“Not so much. I’ve got a couple of emails back, but nothing substantial. The new year is certainly starting a bit rough—mainly job shit but life shit too.”

“How have you been handling it?”

“The usual, putting one foot in front of the other and trying to relieve as much stress as possible where I can.”

“That’s reasonable,” he says. “My doctor suggested golfing to me for stress relief, but if nothing else, there’s always sex.”

I laugh dryly. “Haven’t had that kind of stress relief in a long time.”

He looks at me confused. “Really?”

I respond with my own look of confusion.

“What do you mean, really?” 

“Oh, I mean, just…” He pauses. “You don’t seem like you’d have trouble finding someone attracted to you. I mean you’re gorgeous.”

“Well, thank you, but I guess my luck hasn’t been great in that department.”

I hesitate for a moment, then admit, “I’ve been so stressed I haven’t even been able to masturbate recently.”

He nods and then takes a long sip of his coffee, staring into space. “That’s always rough,” he says, moving his tongue around his mouth, tasting the coffee. Then he looks at me, his gaze darkening slightly. “Well, I guess the neighborly thing to do would be to offer to help.”

“Pardon?” I feel I must be misunderstanding.

“My apologies, I didn’t mean to be so forward.”

“I don’t mind, it just took me off guard. I didn’t think the attraction went both ways,” I say, looking him up and down, making sure he knows I’m looking him up and down. 

“What’s not to be attracted to? You’re beautiful, and you have great taste in underwear.” He smirks.

“That’s, um, very neighborly of you. Is this where I cheekily ask for some sugar?”

He grins widely at my attempt at a pick up line. Then stands up and takes my chin between his fingers. Our lips meet in a deep kiss. I can taste the sweet coffee on his tongue.

“You should probably finish drinking that cup of coffee. They say caffeine makes orgasms stronger.”

I blush deeper, quickly sipping my coffee as I watch the lust grow in his eyes.

“Umm, Bed or couch?” I ask.

“Wherever you’re most comfortable,” he answers, at my service.

“Bed,” I respond, and lead him to the bedroom where I lie down. My breath is shallow with anticipation as he leans over me. His fingers trail lightly along my arm before settling at the hem of my shirt. His touch is slow, teasing, intentional, as he lifts the fabric, revealing my skin inch by inch. His lips press soft kisses along my stomach, each one getting me more and more wet.

His hands slide over my sides, gentle yet firm, as he pushes my shirt higher, his mouth tracing the curve of my ribs. My fingers tangle in his hair, urging him closer, lost in the way his lips linger along my skin and explore. His breath is warm as he finally slips my shirt over my head, tossing it aside without a second thought.

For a moment, he just looks at me, his gaze heavy with desire. Then he pulls me close, bringing me into a kiss. I feel his cock hardening against his jeans. The heat between us builds. Each kiss drawing me deeper. My hips bucking up into him. Wanting him.

His lips tease me with soft kisses from my lips down my jawline, his hands trailing lightly over my waist. I giggle, overwhelmed by the heat between us. 

“You’re really taking your time,” I say.

He smiles. “Anticipation makes it better, doesn’t it?”

Then he leans down again, his lips brushing along my collarbone, his tongue flicking against my pulse. His hands begin to roam, fingertips skimming over my bare skin down to my hips where he softly pulls my pants off. 

He kneels on the edge of the bed and his lips trail lower and lower. He’s teasing me with his warm breath. His mouth hovers just above where I ache for him most. Then, with deliberate slowness, he presses a lingering kiss over the thin fabric that separates us, his tongue flicking out just enough to make me gasp.

The heat of his mouth seeps through, and my pussy feels on fire. My fingers grip his hair, urging him closer, but he resists, reveling in my anticipation. Another kiss, softer this time, almost reverent, before he bites down ever so gently, catching the edge of my underwear between his teeth.

A smile flickers across his lips as he starts to pull them down, the slow drag of soft cotton against my skin makes me moan, loud. He watches me the whole time, his gaze dark and hungry, savoring every moment. When the fabric finally slips off, he runs his hands up my thighs, spreading me open just enough to make my pulse race.

"Perfect," he murmurs at my pussy, his voice thick. He continues to tease me as his fingers skim lower, teasing the sensitive skin just below my belly button, making my stomach tighten, making me want to scream. And just when I think I can’t take it anymore, when it’s becoming unbearable, he gives my clit the softest lick.

He watches me, as he gives me another long, slow lick. A teasing flick of his tongue, a deliberate stroke that has my back arching off the bed, whimpers flying from my mouth. Then his whole mouth is on my clit, and I lose myself completely, my eyes roll back, and I feel my whole body fill with pleasure. 

His hands grip my thighs, keeping me exactly where he wants me, his mouth working me open with patient, devastating precision. He hums against me, the vibration sending electricity through every nerve.

I grasp at the sheets, at his hair, shaking, coming undone beneath him. He takes his time, tasting me, moaning into me, exploring every part of me, building the pressure higher, higher, until I’m lost to sensation, my body tight with my impending release. 

He doesn’t stop—he won’t stop—until he has wrung every last moan from my lips, until I shatter beneath his touch. And when I do, he stays there, holding me together even as I fall apart.