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Getting to Know My Neighbor Ch. 01

By: archilochus



This happened to me last night. 

I live in a neighborhood in one of the suburbs of Rome. Olive trees in the backyard, space between the buildings. My bedroom is on the second floor, with a balcony. Beyond the olive trees, in the next yard, kitty-corner to my house, and at a lower level, lives a family with a daughter who has just graduated from high school. 

Of course I have tried to observe her in her room, but I'm at an angle; all I can see is a corner of her room, which is where her desk and her computer monitor are. I've seen her sitting at her computer many times, usually with the lights off. That girl spends too much time in front of that screen, watching movies or TV shows. I'd never seen her watching porn. 

She's a big girl, tall and solidly built, not slim, with full breasts, that much I have been able to see, but no more. I've spied with binoculars and a 50-power telescope, but only once did I catch her undressing in my angle of view, and only for a second or two, and just to bra and panties. I'd never seen her out on her balcony, though I'd seen the bra and panties on the family clothesline. I'd been observing her, just checking on her, really, for six months, since I'd moved in, but without much to show for it. 

Now that school is out, she'd been away somewhere, but last night I saw that she was back. Her computer was on and she was seated in front of it. It was 1 a.m. and hot. She was wearing a nightie I'd never seen before. It was thin enough to reveal the curve of her breasts (of her right breast) against the bright square of the monitor. 

I could see that her breasts were firm and fleshy, never mind if her waist was a little thick. I could see (through my scope) that she was on Facebook; and then something else: a porn clip! At last: she's growing up. The usual kind of thing: a black man, a young white woman sucking his long, snake-like cock, then getting penetrated from behind with her long hair held back tight in his right hand. Withdrawal for orgasm on her face and tits. I could see it all pretty clearly through my scope. 

I should mention that I was ready for bed, and that I like to sleep naked. I had opened the sliding panel of my balcony door to spy, bracing my scope against the edge, and partially hiding behind the thin, white, floor-length inner curtain. Watching her watch porn and seeing the full, rounded shape of her breast through the fabric of her nightie was something new. I got a strong erection and started to masturbate, holding the scope as steady as I could with my left hand and concealing the right half of my body behind the curtain. The porn clip ended. 

Did I mention that the night was hot? She suddenly came out onto her balcony, which was pretty dark. My balcony was dark too, but as my eyes adjusted I could see that there was light to see by -- and be seen by -- coming from streetlights and a few lit windows here and there. 

Could my telescope be seen? I took it in and peeped around the panel. I doubted she saw me. I put my whole head out for a better view, exposing almost half of my naked body at the same time. I couldn't tell if she could see me or was even looking in my direction, but my heart started to beat hard. I exposed a bit more of myself. Then a breeze blew away the thin curtain I was hiding behind. Suddenly I was naked and erect and exposed, standing in the door of my balcony in the faint light. 

I didn't move, but I saw her look around. I couldn't tell if she had seen me or not. I withdrew a little and started to masturbate again, hidden from view, but gradually I moved out into the dim light, slowly masturbating and looking at her dark figure on the balcony. Maybe the motion of my hand attracted her eye. She turned her head in my direction. I froze. 

Could she see me or not? I started, very slowly, to move my hand up and down my cock again. I was looking right at her. I just couldn't tell how visible I was, but then someone turned on a bathroom light in a house across the way, and I could see that I had become a shade brighter. And my own eyes were adjusting to the dark, as hers must have been too. I felt I had night vision now and I could see her white nightie billowing in the breeze and outlining her body against the thin cotton fabric. I could see the fabric pressed against those full, ripe,18-year-old breasts.

A drop of liquid spilled out of the tip of me. I spread it over the length of my pounding erection, which shone in the low light. Now I could see that she was looking at me. I was slowly, very slowly, stroking myself. I had met her father one day while we were working in our adjacent gardens. Would she tell him? No: or I would report her for watching porn. And the porn scene must have turned her on anyway, and here was a man masturbating for her on a summer night, masturbating to her, because of her.

I gave myself up to it. I stroked myself more deliberately, openly, rhythmically. I realized that the dark had somehow turned to light for both of us. She held the railing with both hands, nonchalantly, but I could see her stealing glances my way. After a while she didn't pretend any more: she just turned her head and stared. 

That made me want to perform. I stroked myself more provocatively, I cocked my hips, I leaned back and stroked myself shamelessly with long smooth strokes. I remembered the time I had exhibited myself to the neighbor's cleaning lady when I was thirteen years old; and to many girlfriends since.

I let my hands drop to my thighs so that my glistening cock just stuck straight up into the night air. I couldn't stop myself, though I knew what I was doing was a little perverted (A lot? Or not? Isn't exhibitionism part of daily life? Yes, but not like this, and I could probably be arrested, disgraced and deported). I couldn't tell what she was thinking, or what she would do, but she hadn't left, and I didn't care, I couldn't stop myself. 

And then she showed me what she was thinking. Her left hand was holding the railing of her balcony, but her right hand suddenly reached under her nightie. And she started to touch herself, discreetly at first, and then openly, with rapid movements of her hand, though I could only see her arm moving like a sewing machine and the fabric at the front of her thighs dancing wildly. 

That was more than I could stand. I matched her rhythm and gave myself up to what was to come. No more teasing, I was carried away by the wave building inside of me. The wave crashed. I made a groaning sound. Cum spurted out of me and onto my balcony. I saw her head snap back and a sudden convulsion shake her shoulders, and I heard a sound come from her like a deep grunt. Then she turned abruptly and went inside and closed the shutters. I was still shaking. I am still shaking as I write this. And I am awaiting tonight.

Getting to Know My Neighbor Ch. 02



Our encounter -- at a distance of perhaps twenty to thirty yards, in semi-darkness, without a word or a sign exchanged between us, unless our near-simultaneous orgasms were a kind of message to each other -- had caught us by surprise. It simply happened, and we let it happen. 

I didn't know what she was thinking, but the following day I could only imagine the night to come. But this time I could think ahead to what might happen, I could plan it, like a crime -- which it probably was. Physical contact, I felt, was out of the question. It could only lead to trouble. But mutual exhibitionism, that was something we could do consensually, and with premeditation. 

Of course, I considered that she might tell her parents what I had done. But she had done it too, though not to the same extent. I had been stark naked and erect for her; she was just out getting some air on her balcony in her nightie. Well, maybe not "just", not by the time it was over. I figured that it would be our little secret. I was afraid she might be ashamed of her behavior. She probably didn't expect her orgasm to be so audible (if she was even aware of the sounds she made, that is). She dove inside fast once it had happened.

She could have kept her shutters closed and put it all behind her. But I supposed that she probably couldn't get the sight of me stroking my stiff, shining cock for her out of her mind. Had she ever seen a man masturbate to orgasm before? In any case, wouldn't she want to see it again? Was I being vain? Deluded? Or (knowing the power of sex) just realistic? Only the night would tell. 

I decided to do three things differently. I would oil my body to enable it to pick up light better; I would light a candle in my bedroom for a little extra glow. And I would have my binoculars handy. I didn't think I could get away with my video-camera (at least not yet), though the more I thought about disguising it, the more I wanted to try it.

So I set it up. I put it on a short tripod and concealed it behind two towels I hung over my balcony railings. The angle of view peeped through the gap between the towels, in the darkest part of the balcony, and I hung a kind of hood (an old black t-shirt) over the camera, all except the lens. I trained it on where she was likely to be standing and put it on the low-light setting. All I had to do was switch it on and press record. 

I was ready. But would she come to the party? It was 1 o'clock again and her room was dark. I began to feel foolish, even perverted, with my bottle of baby oil at my side. But somewhere inside I felt that she must have been feeling the same sexual compulsion I felt. And that meant that she would have to come back for more.

She did. It was about half past one in the morning. She had probably been out with her friends having a drink or two. Or maybe more, to judge from the hour. Perhaps she felt she needed a little help shedding those inhibitions that the priests had instilled, when they weren't ogling her breasts (the few heterosexuals, that is) when she knelt for communion. All I know is that her light came on, just when I was thinking that she had left for the seaside. Her parents seemed to be away -- I had been watching the house. 

She turned on her computer and probably checked her Facebook page. I was just watching with the naked eye. And the naked body. And the naked lens of my videocamera at 40x, which I switched on by ducking down behind the towels. It excited me to see the little red "record" light come on, even though nothing was happening. 

She hadn't yet turned toward me. After a few minutes she got up from her desk, then stepped out onto her balcony. At first she looked straight ahead. And then she turned in my direction. I was half hidden, well, a little more than half. Again it was dim, and I knew her eyes hadn't adjusted, as mine had. She looked away. But she'd seen I was there. I thought I saw her chest rise as she caught her breath; maybe it was just my imagination. She clung to the railings with both hands and swayed a little. 

It was another hot night. My heart was beating hard and my breath was short. Adrenaline and testosterone were hitting my bloodstream in a rush until my head swam. And I felt myself getting turned on. I wanted her to see me getting hard. I stepped out from behind the panel so that I was completely exposed, a naked man standing on his balcony with his cock blowing itself up in slow motion like a long balloon. She looked, she saw. Inside of half a minute I was completely stiff and aching. Did I mention that I had taken 50 mg of Viagra just for good measure? I was as hard as iron and I felt as tall as the Tower of Pisa. And at the same angle, of course.

She went inside. Out of sight, she undressed. I only saw her put her clothes on the back of her chair. Why couldn't she strip for me? She turned the light off. Was she just going to go to bed and humiliate my desire? No, she had something else in mind. She reappeared, in the visible corner of her dark room, wearing a nightie, a negligee, I should say, a new one, not the long one she'd had on last night, but something shorter and more transparent, with a curving strip of lace under the breasts to divide and support -- and show them off in all their maiden glory. There is something about diaphanous fabric that drives me crazy. I had the feeling that she might have bought the nightie earlier in the day, to wear for me. I call that premeditation, and that made two of us. 

All the other neighbors had gone to bed. I lit the candle, just inside my room out of the breeze. I took up my old position. I reached for my bottle of oil and poured some in my hand and started to spread it on my chest. I was taking the lead. She was just watching. The candle and the oil lit my skin with a warm glow. I spread the oil over my belly. I don't think I've said that I'm tall and well-built, never mind that I'm in my 40s. I work my abs, and this was their moment. Next I rubbed oil on my thighs, looking down. 

Then I paused and slowly poured a little oil in the palm of my right hand. I put the bottle down. I looked right at my neighbor in her sheer nightie, who was frozen in her spot kitty-corner to me. My night vision kept getting better: and there was some moonlight tonight. I stared at those beautiful full breasts, and as I did so I applied the oil to the affected area. My cock was slick and rock-hard. I turned to give her a profile view. I leaned back against the doorway like a prostitute. 

I was doing what I had done last night, only more so. Using both hands, for instance, gripping my swollen cock like the handle of a bat. And with the candle and the oil I was a lot brighter. I kept looking at her. I slowed my rhythm into something hypnotic, as if to signal that it was her turn now. I felt that I had slipped into some erotic dream zone, as if I had hypnotized myself by staring at her and by slowly stroking the length of my cock, from the base to the tip, repeatedly. 

It worked. She slipped into the same zone herself, I could feel it. She slowly raised her right hand and brought it to her left breast and fondled it. She pressed it, moved it, stroked it, caressed it. Then the other. Then with both hands, crossing her hands, then left hand on left breast, right on right. Very, very sexy. I wished she would just rip the fabric to shreds, but I also enjoyed the show through the fabric. 

I thought her nipples had stiffened, but there was only one way to make sure. I reached for my compact Nikon binoculars. I was afraid I might shock her. But the view: her dark nipples were poking against that sheer bodice. I wanted to tell her to pour ice water over her breasts. I could see a dark patch of pubic hair through the flimsy fabric: no panties tonight. 

Then she disappeared! Had I gone too far? A minute passed. She came back -- with a big pair of military-style binoculars in her hand (no doubt her father's). Now the pressure was on me. I put my binoculars down and gave her a show. Instead of stroking myself with both hands, I just held my hands steady like a tube and thrust my cock into them and up through them, with a slow, steady motion that ended in a little home thrust, a last lewd shuddering cocking of the hips. You know the phrase "public lewdness" -- this is what its inventor must have had in mind. If they caught me, I would plead 'no contest'. I had never been lewder in my life. 

She transferred her binoculars to her left hand and, like last night, dipped her right hand under her nightie. This time she was facing me and seemed to want me to watch. I put my hands on my buttocks and thrust. I bent at the knees and brought my body forward with long thrusting strokes, rolling my hips, always ending with a final hard poking thrust. She was rubbing her crotch hard, as she had done last night. I wanted to see her do it. I got my binoculars again and stroked myself with one hand. My turn to watch. 

She put her binoculars down. She raised her nightie to let me see what her hand was doing. Her fingers were sliding down over her clitoris and plunging right inside her, then repeating the same stroke, rubbing and penetrating each time. She leaned back and abandoned herself to her touches and thrusts. After a while she just used the tips of her fingers as if she were strumming a guitar. She must have done this to herself in secret many times before. And now she was showing me. Her nightie was still raised. She was pretty lewd herself. She was giving herself a good old fashioned frigging and letting me watch every minute of it. 

I went to the corner of my balcony closest to her and stroked right back at her. The oil had worn off or been absorbed into my skin, and though still silky I could get enough traction to move toward orgasm. I let out some pre-orgasmic groans to encourage her to do the same. She did. We were no different, really, than the neighborhood cats that sometimes must have kept us both awake. She was in heat, and like any tomcat I am always prowling, and we had found each other. Her breasts were heaving against that filmy fabric.

I felt myself about to come, I let her know by my sounds, and I gave an ecstatic cry as I came and shot a load right over the railing of the balcony into a corner of her father's vegetable garden below. He will wonder where the mandrakes came from. Next, my nameless 18-year-old she-cat neighbor climaxed with open lips and shut eyes. Again her sounds were deep, not from the throat but from the belly. That's where the beast of desire has its lair, and it waits until orgasm to be let out, and it escapes with a growl. Then it looks for another host, and it prowls and sniffs until it finds one.

We both went in to our rooms. I waved goodnight. She made a quick sign with her hand and went in. A quick sign. And to me that was an invitation to take the next dangerous step. For the beast had not left me. Why should he when he had found such a good home?

She closed her shutters. And I gathered up my camera. Had it worked? I pressed rewind and heard the sound of the motor whirring. Then the little stop sound. Play. And there she was, at her computer. I watched the whole tape, jacking off a second time. I had never seen a sexier video on the internet. But I'm not going to post it. Maybe someday, but for now, I'll have to leave you with no more than my story. But I swear it happened just as I've told it to you. These things happen, not often, but they do happen. 



Getting to Know My Neighbor Ch. 03



I had said that any actual physical contact with my fellow-exhibitionist 18-year-old neighbor was out of the question. It could only lead to trouble. Her Italian father, for example, might take a dim view of the 40-something foreigner from next door fucking his teenage daughter's brains out, especially after our friendly conversation about his garden when we first met. That would be the garden that I had jacked off into from my balcony while watching his daughter masturbate last night. As I say, only trouble.

Well, not only. What is trouble when there is opportunity? And how often in life do such opportunities come along? It was worth a try. I knew that I was playing with fire. And that her father might be one of those Italians who hunted on the weekends for sport, shooting innocent animals in a stocked game preserve. Or whenever a suitable target presented itself. But I thought: Che sera sera. That girl was like a drug you just take once -- or twice -- and you're hooked. I had to have her body.

The next day her parents returned from wherever they'd been. I saw her father tying up his tomato vines; I thought of tying up his daughter with the leftover twine. Her parents' bedroom was on the opposite side of the house (she had a younger brother, too, but he was away). At midnight I stole into the garden and tossed a pebble up at her shutter. She hadn't come out yet tonight, but her light was on, and the pebble brought her out to investigate. I called to her from down below. Does this remind you of Romeo and Juliet? it was happening to me in real life, but I was aware of the precedent. They had a little family problem too; and, yes, it ended badly. I told her (in my best whispered Italian) to come down. 

She did, in the clothes she had on: a sleeveless jersey and a pair of silky lounging pants. She wasn't wearing a bra. Her hair was still wet from the shower she'd just taken. The first thing I said to her was to tell her she was a beautiful and sexy girl (bellissima e sexissima). Then I introduced myself. She said her name was Isabella. "Such a beautiful name," I said, "Isabellissima". I repeated her name like that several times, then took her by the shoulders and kissed her. She kissed me back and held my body. 

How could this be happening to me? The fact is that I had caught her at just the right moment: she had just gone through the hell of university entrance exams, it was her first free summer, she had just turned 18, she had no boyfriend, and she was ready for real sex; her body was ready to burst. She had lost her virginity (she later told me) on a school trip, and she'd had one other guy a few times, but he'd chosen to go with one of her friends instead. 

She knew she wasn't thin like most of her friends; that's just the way she was built. And she was taller than most Italian boys, though shorter than me. I later told her (in my soulful foreign accent) that I liked a woman I could wrap my arms around and wrestle with and look in the eyes of. Boys her own age didn't, and couldn't, talk to her like that.

It had an effect on her. I could feel the heat coming off her. Because she hadn't had much experience, I was getting pure, unpracticed, natural passion (with a little help from the internet). And though not passive, she was willing to let me lead: to dominate. There we were in her father's garden, behind his arbor of climbing beans, and nothing was going to stop us.

Oh, you can be sure that I reached under her jersey and caressed those breasts that I had so much admired from my balcony. God, her skin was smooth and supple. Her breasts were heavy, and not so much firm as dense and soft. I raised that jersey and began to feed. I'll bet those Italian boys hadn't sucked her nipples as hungrily as I did. She began to sigh deeply. I could see she loved having her breasts adored like that. I buried my head between them, and I could have sucked them for hours. Her nipples grew big and chewy, and she made sounds when I chewed them. Dangerous.

We thought we heard a noise! It was her mother letting the cat out the side door. The door closed again. My heart was knocking and my knees were weak. I lay down on the garden path, took off my jeans (no underwear), slipped on a condom, and beckoned to her to come on top of me. She stripped off her pants (no panties) and sat right down on my stiff and throbbing cock, just like that. I grabbed her by the hips and began to thrust upward. Before long I was pounding up at her madly, and being smothered by her breasts, and holding her by the shoulders, then locking onto her hips and ass and forcing her down to meet my thrusts. 

I didn't hold back; I fucked her fiercely in a frenzy of fear and desire. Before long I came, intensely, in shooting, spasmodic waves, trying to stifle the cry that wanted to come out of me. She kept moving; I pressed my pubic bone up to meet her, she ground down on top of me, rubbed herself against me like an animal and then her body suddenly shook as if she were having a seizure and she made a low, rumbling, vibrating groan, which she did her best to muffle. Then we were still and silent -- and afraid of having been heard. We sprang up and quickly dressed. We staggered a little as if we were drunk, which in a way we were. We kissed, hard. And then we parted. I slunk away like a fox. Like a fox who has just enjoyed a plump young chicken. But my Juliet had enjoyed herself too.

And now that we had had a taste of each other, of course we wanted more.



Getting to Know My Neighbor Ch. 04



When I met her in the garden the next night, she was wearing shorts, a blouse (with a bra), and perfume. And a little makeup, which reddened her lips and darkened her eyes. Her hair was done up in a long braid. I had brought her some grapes, which I fed to her, forcing them between her lips, which produced in me an immediate erection. No sooner had she swallowed the last grape than (taking the hint) she fell to her knees, unzipped my shorts, and took me into her mouth, while wrapping her soft fingers around my hot, stiff shaft. 

I don't know what made her so forward; I suppose it was simply the long-delayed outlet of lust. She had no modesty, only appetite. That's the way I felt myself. We were well matched, which we had known from those first crazy moments on our balconies. She was being a little rough on me; I lifted her up and kissed her and fondled her breasts through all that fabric. Her kissing was so passionate, so abandoned. I had stirred her up inside; the onset of sex with a virtual stranger had turned her on past the point of no return, and she simply did what her body told her to do. 

I unbuttoned her pretty cotton blouse and saw her bra. I think she must have bought it for me. It had demi-cups that let a little bit of her nipple area show above the fringe, and it served up her breasts as if they were something to eat; which they were. I stroked her between the legs as I kissed her and fondled her. I could feel how damp she was. I thrust my hand down under the waistband of her shorts: heaven. She had a thong on under her shorts. The little triangle of fabric was already soaked, and it was hot to the touch. I could feel her clitoris throbbing right through the thin cotton, and I slowly stroked it. The fabric rubbed and tugged against her as I moved my finger around and pressed it between her inner lips, still on the outside of the flimsy wet cloth. 

She was breathing hard. My tongue was filling her mouth and she was sucking on it. I slipped my finger around to the side of her thong and pulled it aside, and touched her slick, hot folds. I put one, then two fingers inside of her and slowly finger-fucked her, sliding in and out and reaching for the roof of her vagina at the end of each finger stroke. My palm pressed against her fleshy, hairy, swelling mons. I backed her up against the garden wall, and with my free hand took her by her braid and tilted her head back and kissed her on the throat. I ran my lips and teeth up and down along her windpipe. I don't think she'd ever been kissed like that. I didn't kiss girls like that when I was her age. She started to thrust her pelvis against my fingers.

I knew I could do better than that for her. I dropped my shorts and slipped on a condom. I pulled her shorts and thong off. I was bare-assed in her father's garden, and she was naked from the waist down herself. If we got caught, we got caught. In the meantime, we were on fire. I lifted her up in the air so that she could straddle me and wrap her legs around me. She was heavy, it's true, but not so heavy that I couldn't rest her against the wall and hold her up. In that position I let gravity impale her on my hard-as-rosewood cock. 

I believe the ancient Romans put statues of Priapus, complete with erect phalluses, at the corners of their gardens as tokens of fertility, and now I was such a figure come to life in another Roman garden. I felt like a satyr from the forest ravishing a village girl at her own back door. With her own consent. 

Oh, she consented, all right. She liked being airborne. I knew I didn't have much time before my strength ran out, so I went to work. That swelling mons I spoke of: a pad of sweet flesh to cushion the blows. I pounded into her, and I slapped hard against her lush pubic hair and that pillow of pubic flesh. Pounding and slapping make noise, and we may have added a few vocal tones to the percussion. 

Her twin brother suddenly opened his door on the balcony above us. We froze. I couldn't hold her any longer. I let her down. We cowered behind the bean poles. We heard her brother's footsteps on the balcony, but he didn't seem to have detected us. I turned Isabella around to face the wall. I placed her hands on it, spread apart. Very slowly and quietly, I penetrated her from behind. We both suppressed the groan of inner satisfaction. She raised her ass for perfect alignment. I held her hips and huddled close to her, covering her like a bull. 

This was madness, and we knew it. This was sweetness sharpened by danger, and we felt it, and gave ourselves up to it. I slid so slowly in and then almost out, then in again. I glided frictionlessly into her until there was a noiseless thud as I sheathed my swollen satyr's phallus to the hilt, repeatedly, in long slow-motion strokes. With every stroke I wound the coils inside me tighter. I maintained my patient, machine-like rhythm, but I varied the placement of my hands, now on her wide hips, now around her waist, now on her broad shoulders, now holding her heavy full breasts and stroking her nipples, now with my hands all over her smooth, strong thighs. 

I gathered the rope of her braid in my hand the way the black lover in the video that I had caught her watching did, and pulled her head back, and fondled her throat, all the while gliding in and out of her, soundlessly. Her brother still seemed to be on the balcony. Could he see us? Was he watching? The thought turned me on; I hoped he was watching his sister get taken from behind, the way he had no doubt dreamed of doing himself in his perverted, incestuous masturbatory fantasies. 

With my left hand cradling her breasts, I reached my right hand down between her legs, threading my way through her bush until I found what I was feeling for. I love a girl with a large clitoris, and she had one, a hard, slippery knob just asking to be rubbed. The feel of it on my fingertips was more than I could bear. I felt something snap inside of me. My body began to twitch in a convulsive thrusting motion. I couldn't control it, and I didn't want to. Spasms shot through me in flowing waves. 

My motions and the friction from my fingers had the same effect on her. I felt her quiver and jerk against me. My cock thrust and pressed and planted as deeply into her as I could go; deep inside of her she gripped it and stripped it of every drop I had, with the rippling squeezes of a long, deep orgasm. We choked our groans and swallowed our sighs, which only intensified our sensations. We were both trembling. I held on to her and kissed her shoulder and bit it like a horse. 

Like Adam and Eve in their garden, we suddenly felt our nakedness. The garden seemed as bright as day, although it was in fact fairly dark. We heard her brother's door close. Had he seen and heard it all? Was he going to get his parents? Or just lie on his bed and beat off like mad? We dressed. Again we parted hastily, with scarcely a goodnight -- though I did blurt out a foolhardy invitation to her to visit me at my house. She said she was going away with her family for the weekend. "Monday," I said. 

I escaped out the back of the garden to the front of my house. I went up to my bedroom and looked across at her room. She appeared. She waved goodnight. I lay back on my bed, still breathing hard. Thinking of what we had done, and what her brother might have seen, I stroked myself to a second, aching orgasm. And fell asleep. 



Getting to Know My Neighbor Ch. 05



I had invited my 18-year-old neighbor to my house -- though I knew that it was completely and totally out of bounds. It would seem like kidnapping if her father caught her here. The family had all been away on a family trip. I lay in wait for their return -- her return.

She came to me the first afternoon, not an hour after they got back, during siesta time. She simply appeared at my open courtyard doorway. I got her away from there fast and led her upstairs, straight to my bedroom -- closing the door behind us. I let her look out from my balcony -- discreetly, drawing the curtain aside -- at her balcony (for that is how we had "met"). She said her parents were going take a nap and that her brother was in his room back at his computer. I missed him. I suspected him of spying on our last encounter in her father's vegetable garden.

I had never seen Isabella by daylight before. I was not disappointed. She had her dark hair down in a side ponytail. Full lips, almond eyes, smooth olive skin. Broad shoulders. We embraced. She was strong and held me hard. But I held her harder, squeezing her against me, crushing her breasts against my chest. The fullness of those breasts and the warmth of her body shot right through me. I reached down to give myself room to grow. We kissed greedily, bruising each other's lips. I could feel my cock pulsing and surging, and no doubt she could feel it too, pressing and throbbing against her belly. 

She was wearing the clothes she'd travelled in: sleeveless t-shirt, bra, shorts, sandals. I lifted her top right off her and took off my own shirt just as fast. I undid her shorts and they dropped to the floor. She had a sexy pair of lacy cut-off panties and must have had them on all day, waiting for this moment. 

I ditched my own shorts. My erection was straining against my briefs. I guided her hand to it and kissed her again. Then I reached behind and undid her sturdy bra with its double clasps. I took it off slowly and tossed it on the floor. Her breasts swung out. I leaned in and held their weight in each hand, then I gave each of those nipples a single sucking kiss. I kissed her chest, her throat, her lips, her shoulders, and slid my tongue down to taste those nipples again, now stiffer than before. I sucked, she sighed.

With a little help from her I had sprung right past the waistband of my briefs. The head of my cock and several inches of the shaft were free and the rest of me was longing for freedom. I peeled off my briefs, then knelt down and did the same for her. I remained on one knee and kissed her luxuriant, aromatic bush; it was already damp. We were both completely naked now. My cock was stiff as a board and aching with anticipation.

And we had privacy. I felt a surge of strength and picked her up in my arms, crosswise, as if taking her across a stream. I kissed her on the lips and she hung her arms around my neck. Then I laid her down on my bed and stared at her. Her chest was rising and falling quickly. I knew what I wanted to do. I looked at her strong thighs and I laid my head between them, wrapping my arms around them. I spread her legs and felt her inner heat and a strong, sexy odor hitting me. My fingers stretched for her curtain of pubic hair and parted it from the top. The look of those full, flushed-red labia slick with her own sweet, slimy juices was irresistible.

I dove in with my lips and tongue. I let her have it, now teasing her big, beautiful clitoris with the tip of my tongue, now putting my whole mouth on her and eating her whole, then wrapping my lips around that sweet, pink nut and sucking rhythmically, listening to her sighs get deeper. 

I drew my arms back and tipped her thighs into the air. I let my tongue travel south, stroking her in that sexy no man's land below her slit, and then a pause, then lower to brush her exposed anus. I could feel her tense up, but I took command and held her legs where they were and went to work. She submitted; she had an appetite for learning. I slipped my tongue up, down, and then around, lightly, with a swirl, with a stroke, and then with a poke, until the tip of my tongue had penetrated that little ribbed orifice. She squirmed with excitement. She was moaning continuously now.

I had been away from the rest of her for a long time. I rose, flushed, and just looked at her lying on her back, so ripe and ready for love. I stared at those full, spread-out breasts with rosy red nipples asking to be sucked. I straddled her at the waist and sucked one, then the other stiff nipple to my heart's content, kneading them lightly with my teeth. Then I straddled her at the chest and told her to press her breasts together for me. She piled her breasts into two high mounds. I slid my shaft between them and pushed it and pulled it through that soft, warm flesh. I told her to use her tongue on me when I slid all the way through. She stuck it out and licked me like a lollipop at the end of every stroke. 

Then I reached for a condom, backed down, gave her a sweet kiss and sank my swollen self into her parting flesh. She was hot and slippery, but inside, down in the heart of her, she was tight. I stayed right there, deep inside of her, pressing in slow waves against her cushiony mons, making my cock swell inside her at the end of every wave, filling her up, stuffing her with a rod of hot, hard, swelling flesh. Then I withdrew enough for some good, firm sliding strokes, and from her sounds I could tell that she was going to come. I wasn't there yet, but I knew I could be if I tried. 

How did I try? By slapping into her pussy with all my force, by fucking her as brutally as I liked. She had a body that could take that kind of a beating, and it was just hard sex, after all. She began to come, with that growl of hers, and as she twisted and bucked beneath me, I pounded on until I was as taut as a bowstring, and then my body went into spasms of thrusting and gushing as I shot the arrow of my flesh as far inside of her as it would go. As the sharp edge of orgasm tore through me, I groaned a long, guttural groan. Both of our bodies quivered and quaked with the aftershocks. I collapsed on top of her. My heart was still racing. I placed her hand on my chest and felt for her own heart: the same wild beating. I rolled off beside her. We lay on our backs exhausted. I felt fatigue loosening all my muscles. We fell asleep, side by side.

I woke first, an hour later. What if she were missed? What if we heard voices from next door calling for her? What if someone rang my bell or knocked on my door? She was still asleep, on her back, her long hair dishevelled on the pillow. I watched her breasts softly rise and fall for a long time, voyeuristically, until I was hard again, then lightly kissed a nipple. She stirred. I kissed her tenderly all over her body as she shook off her sleep. 

She opened her eyes and shocked me. "My brother knows. He saw us." 

"Oh my God! But does he know who I am?"

"He knows."

This was upsetting news.

"What is he going to do?"

She paused. "He wants to watch us. Make love."

The idea of his watching us had been exciting when I didn't think it was actually happening. But the reality of being blackmailed into putting on a show for Isabella's horny twin brother was something else. Isabella told me he was as shy as she was bold, a nerd, very smart but awkward around girls.

Second shock: "He wants you to teach him."

"Teach him? How am I going to teach him?"

She looked down and didn't answer.

"Oh my God, no," I said, as I realized what her brother must be meaning. 

"I know," she said. "But we have no choice. Otherwise he'll tell my parents."

I was dazed. My erection, brought on by gazing at all that sweet flesh, shrivelled away. Isabella noticed.

"I didn't mean to upset you, but I had to tell you." 

I just lay there on one elbow, stunned. Was I going to coach this boy in how to screw his own sister? She said I had no choice. 

Human beings are strange creatures. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that I wanted to do it. I am a teacher (an English teacher), after all. What's the matter with giving a few lessons to an Italian teenager? English, sex, what difference is there, really? It will just be like teaching a second language. No, easier: we are all native speakers of sex. 

And I too like to watch. If I said yes, I was going to get to watch Isabella being fucked by her brother according to my own instructions. And once it happened, her brother was going to have to come over to our side. We'd have something on him. I began to get secretly excited at the idea, though I didn't let on.

Of course, I also realized that this was just more of the same madness, and that it could not come to good. 

Just as I was getting used to this latest development, Isabella, who was feeling sorry for having told me, and for seeing what the news had done to me, leaned over and took my shrunken penis in her mouth. It was so small and limp and helpless! She had never seen it like that, and she must have been worried.

She didn't have to worry for long. I felt it grow inside her warm, wet mouth and fill her up and become too big for its shell and push itself half outside her lips. I could see that Isabella felt proud of herself. She took hold of me and sucked some more. I held her head with both hands and guided her. Soon I was just using her skull and those full lips as if I were masturbating with them. 

I got up, laid Isabella on her back crosswise on the bed with her head hanging off the edge of the mattress, grabbed a big pillow and knelt on it, and slid my cock between her lips. I supported her head and slowly fucked her in the mouth. She couldn't take all of me, but she tried, she wanted me. Her breasts fell backwards and looked massive in reverse gravity. I fondled them while she sucked on me. But now the sight of Isabella's snatch led me on. I helped her back on the bed and backwards-straddled her and dipped my head, and my tongue, between her legs from above. She rolled my cock between her breasts. Her pubic bone bumped up against my lower lip in search of more friction until my upper lip was sore.

If it was friction she wanted, I was going to give it to her. I got up, put on another condom, and told her to get on the floor (on the rug, that is), on her knees, hands on the floor in front of her. She did as I said, and her compliance fed my pure, animal urge to dominate her. So did the sight of her pussy pouting out from between her legs, with a tuft of her bush flaring out of the middle of that ample ass, asking to be taken. Standing but bending deeply, I entered her from behind, slowly. She sighed until her sigh slid into a groan. 

I increased my speed gradually but relentlessly, until I was pummeling her with strong diving strokes. We could see ourselves in the full-length mirror on my wardrobe. She watched me thrusting at her, and I could watch the expression of primitive submission on her face. Her mouth was open. I watched my own chest and belly and hips, and it made me excited to see myself attacking her body from above.

I laid into her with short quick strokes like a rabbit. I heard her making pre-orgasmic sounds. I fucked her in a perfect frenzy, my thighs aching past endurance, and I felt myself about to come. "I'm coming," I cried it out to her, passionately, because I the controller was now out of control -- and her reply was simply a long, low, shuddering moan. I made one last deep, piercing thrust, and I felt her squeezing along all the length of me, and wringing every last drop of strength from me.

I was bathed in sweat. My loins ached and my thighs were trembling. I helped Isabella up to her feet and embraced her. The truth is, I was falling for this girl. Dan-ger-ous.

We showered together. I loved soaping those big breasts and broad shoulders. I had never had a girl as big before, and I saw what I'd been missing. 

And perhaps her parents had been missing her too. Suddenly I felt a panic. 

"We've go to get you out of here!" She felt it too. She quickly dried herself, but her hair was wet, and I had no hair drier. How could she explain that to her parents? She would have to get past them and get to her room.

Her brother. She called him on her cell phone. 

"Alessandro. It's OK. He's agreed to teach you. But I need your help right now..."

And so her brother got her parents out of the way, she slipped in the back door and up to her room, and I saw her on her balcony drying her hair with a drier. We had gotten away with it. 

Except for the fact that we were now at the mercy of her brother.



Getting to Know My Neighbor Ch. 06



I mentioned that Isabella had said that her nerdy twin brother (now in the first stage of blackmailing us for sex lessons with his sister) was smart. That was an understatement. His next move was to persuade his parents that he and Isabella should have English lessons from the American next door. The way he broached the subject to me was, "My father wants to talk to you about something." Cute. It turned out that I had a drink with the parents in their living room, concluded an arrangement with them in my imperfect Italian and went home knowing that I was going to be paid for screwing their 18-year-old daughter (twenty years my junior) and supervising incest between their children. With maybe a little group sex thrown in. 

Two afternoons a week, at my house. And I do teach them English. For example, they're always learning new words. 

I had my work cut out for me, and not because of their difficulties with the language. I had to satisfy the depraved desires of brother Alessandro (or he would tell his parents that I had seduced his sister in their own backyard) while getting Isabella to accept -- if not enjoy -- sex with her brother. I was going to be giving the lessons, but eventually he would have to take the wheel. And I would get to watch.

The day for our first lesson arrived. They seemed a little tense when they stepped inside. They spoke to each other in rapid Italian, too fast for me to follow. Isabella had been to my house once before, but Alessandro never. To help them relax, we all had a glass of wine in my living room. I sat next to Isabella on the sofa, her brother in an easy chair opposite. I drew the curtains and made small talk in English. I reviewed the verb "to come" in various tenses and meanings. 

I poured a second glass. I thought they should know the parts of the body in English, beginning with the word "thigh," since Isabella's left thigh was right there next to my right hand. I put my hand on it.

"Say, 'that's my thigh'," I said to Isabella, and she repeated my words. "Say, 'that's my sister's thigh'," I instructed Alessandro, and he said it, looking at my hand resting right below the bottom of his sister's shorts, and then at me running the palm of my hand along the full length of her thigh. There had probably never been an English lesson quite like this one.

"This is your sister's shoulder," I said, and I drew Isabella's loose blouse off her shoulder and kissed her bare skin. It was warm and fragrant. "I am kissing your sister's shoulder." 

"You are kissing my sister's shoulder."

"I am biting your sister's shoulder." 

"You are biting your -- my -- sister's shoulder." 

I tipped Isabella's head back. "I am kissing your sister's throat." 

"You are kissing my sister's throat," echoed Alessandro, his voice a little tight, as I ran my lips up and down the column of Isabella's throat and neck. I nibbled her earlobes. "You are biting her ear," said her brother, unprompted. I shot him an approving glance.

I was enjoying this. I reached into my pants to free up my swollen member. I placed Isabella's hand on it, on the outside of my pants. Alessandro stared. Then he adjusted his own clothing. 

I kissed Isabella on the lips. She closed her eyes and kissed me back. Watched or not, she was as hot as ever. Hotter watched, I thought, to judge from the urgency of those kisses. Maybe she wanted to forget that her brother was sitting a few feet away watching her every move. And mine. I fondled her far shoulder, baring the skin, stroking her from the shoulder to the neck and putting my hand on her throat, which made my cock throb and ache in my pants under Isabella's fingers. She thrust her tongue into my mouth. I sucked it, and I could feel it palpitate. 

I unbuttoned a button on her blouse, two buttons (there were only two) so I could slide my palm across her chest and across the tops of her breasts above her bra. I pushed her bra straps off her shoulders and pulled the sleeves down too. I dragged my hand across her chest and I dragged that blouse and that bra lower and lower, exposing more and more of her swelling breasts with every pass. Her eyes were closed. Alessandro's were wide open.

Meanwhile I was having flashbacks to teenage experiences double dating at the drive-in. My friend and I had a little agreement. We would discreetly exhibit our girlfriends to each other from the front to the rear seats and vice versa. I watched him gradually get his girlfriend's bra off and reveal her cone-shaped breasts with puffy nipples. And I remember laying my girlfriend on her back across my lap and letting my friend get a good look as I unveiled her firm round breasts for him and mauled and molded them with my hungry hands and fingers. We never exchanged partners, but we didn't have to; we were high school swingers through mutual exhibitionism.

And now I had Alessandro to exhibit his own sister to. I watched him watch her as I stripped the last of her bra off her, finally undoing it from the back and tossing it on the floor. We both gazed at those beautiful tits the size of canteloupes in a Roman market. Had Alessandro ever seen them before? Of course he had, young spy that he was, but never so close and never served up for his enjoyment. He watched me fondle, he watched me suck. Isabella just kept her eyes closed, which made it still sexier for us guys. We stared at her to our hearts' content. I blew lightly on her nipples to stiffen them for us.

I grabbed Isabella's crotch and started rubbing. She was already hot and moist. I slid my hand up under her shorts' leg and touched her pussy through her panties and teased her with the tips of my fingers. She started making little sounds. 

I unzipped my pants and pulled them down. My engorged cock sprang out. I put her hand back on it. She wrapped her fingers around me and began to stroke. I looked at Alessandro, who was frozen in place and clearly going out of his mind with excitement. A nod of my head was enough for him. He unzipped his own pants and soon had his cock in his hand. It wasn't as thick as mine but just as long, maybe even longer, and uncircumcised. 

Isabella opened her eyes and looked at her brother. At first they were both embarrassed. Then Alessandro just stared longingly at his sister's breasts and began to masturbate. She stared right back at his hand running the length of his long, beet-red cock. 

I whipped her shorts and panties off while she took off her blouse. She was naked on her back my sofa, her lush pubic hair glistening between her legs. In an instant I swung over her and in another I had entered her. I propped myself up on the arm of the sofa to take my weight off her and started to thrust rhythmically into her. Alessandro stood up, took a step toward us, stroking himself all the while, and dropped to his knees beside us. 

I took Isabella's hands and placed them on the arm of the sofa and pinned them there by the wrists. Her chest heaved beneath a touch of domination and a little human bondage. Alessandro watched those breasts rise and fall and like a man in a trance moved closer, until he was inches away. Isabella saw him there. I felt her try to pull away, but in fact she couldn't move, only submit. Alessandro stretched out his hands and put them on her breasts. Then he dove in and put his mouth the nearest nipple and sucked as greedily as a baby. I was arched over him and continued my steady pile-driving of his sister.

Alessandro retreated and took off his pants. His cock was at attention. He looked like a man awaiting his turn. But I was not ready to let him have it yet. I slowed my pace.I sank in to Isabella to the hilt and just pulsed and pressed on her, still holding her down, sometimes kissing her, sometimes biting her shoulders and her neck, but not so hard as to leave marks. 

I was ready for a different position. I freed her hands so that I could use my own to lift her legs straight up and wrap my arms around them, as if from her heels to the base of her slit she were one long cleft of flesh that I was penetrating. I slapped my whole body against the back of her long thighs. I let Alessandro watch and stroke himself as I reamed his sister again and again, ending each thrust with the slap of flesh on flesh and knocking her body backward, shaking her as I held her tight. 

Then I moved off the couch and opened her legs as wide as they would go, holding her by the ankles and plowing into her with full force. I had had enough display, I couldn't stand it any more, and I let myself go, fucking as wildly as I liked, staring down at that fat, flossy pussy as I built up to orgasm. My body stiffened, I groaned, she groaned, we shook, I pumped in a rhythm over which I had no control as her vaginal walls contracted in sharp waves around me. 

I felt dazed. We were all still, as if time had stopped. And then I handed those ankles over to Alessandro. Isabella looked up, kicked her brother's hands away, and rolled over on her belly, hiding her head in a pillow. If she had waited a moment to take a good look at her brother's cock, she might have acted otherwise. His foreskin was peeled back and his long, straight, hard shaft and arrowy point looked like a Roman spear. Alessandro and I looked down at Isabella's big, beautiful buttocks, fleshy but muscular. I made some slight gesture with my hand, as if to say: all right then, attack from the rear. He rolled on a condom.

I grabbed Isabella's ass and lifted it into position. Then I had to grab a knee and spread her legs. Her labia were red and swollen. Her public hair was matted with dampness. The smell of sex poured out of her, overpowering her perfume. Alessandro hesitated. I hadn't asked him if he had ever done this before, but something told me he was new to the real thing. I took first one of his hands, then the other, and placed them on Isabella's hips. Then I took (I confess) Alessandro's cock, as hot and hard as a piece of iron from the forge, and inserted it into Isabella's cunt. It disappeared inside her slick, hot flesh. I hadn't touched a man's cock since adolescence. Alessandro didn't seem to mind; he and I were bonding, teacher and student. Putting that beautifully sculpted, purple head into Isabella was like sliding a hunting knife into a smooth leather sheath.

Alessandro paused, then thrust, tentatively at first, then hard -- and then it was over. He came with a yelp and a jerky shudder. Then he froze, his spear embedded deep in his sister's flesh.

I couldn't have foreseen what happened next. Isabella wasn't finished. She still had her brother's first-time cock up inside of her and was gripping it tight, so tight that she just kept it stiff. She started to back up against it, and then she dipped down and backed up again, while he just remained motionless as a statue and hung on to his sister's hips. After a while the statue came to life and he started meeting her motion, and then both of them were thrusting against each other like the twins that they were. I made a fist and shook it to encourage Alessandro. I said "harder." I said "give it to her." Then, "hold her by the shoulders," and he simply followed instructions. "Faster, harder." He was pounding now, like a good apprentice.

I was getting turned on again and now it was my turn to watch and masturbate. The twins were now both abandoned to sex with each other, and who's to say that some kind of telepathy didn't put them on the same wavelength. Isabella began to come. Then Alessandro. Their bodies seemed fused with each other, soldered at the point of contact: conjoined twins. Watching my students come and then lie naked and exhausted at the end of their lesson -- sprawled and slumped on my couch -- but especially looking at Isabella's body flushed and bathed in sweat curled on the sofa beside me, with my left hand gripping her thigh, I brought myself to a second painfully acute orgasm which convulsed my balls and bent my toes. 

After a minute or so, the three of us sat up, our breathing no longer heavy. There was still some wine. We clinked glasses. Our pact was sealed. As I said once before, better to have the brother on our side. He was really no trouble at all. On the contrary. I even wondered if the twins might not slip into each other's rooms later that night. 

We got dressed. Our English hour was soon over, but not before I taught them the names of the basic sexual positions (and some variations) in my native tongue. I told them that I would be expecting them again in three days. And to abstain from all forms of sex in the meantime. I wanted them to be fresh for the next lesson. I even swore to abstain myself.