12 comments/ 21511 views/ 5 favorites The Girl Upstairs By: JohnFranks Kevin was fascinated by the girl upstairs. She rented the apartment above his, and from the moment that he first saw her, he fell in lust. He watched her come and go, heading off to work, returning home. Once they arrived at the main door together and he held it open for her, gaining as a reward a smile that made his heart lurch into a faster beat for a few moments and seemed to squeeze his breath fast in his windpipe, then she was gone. She could have taken the elevator but she was young and nimble, and chose to trip lightly up the stairs as he stood in the hall, watching her short skirt jiggle against the backs of her firm delightful thighs, until, just as the angle was almost right for him to catch a glimpse of the imagined delights of her underwear, she turned the corner onto the next flight, and although he broke out of his frozen stupor and followed her she was too quick for him, vanishing up the last flight to her apartment before he reached his own door on the floor below. In his small sanctuary, he stood in front of the wardrobe mirror, and stared with dismay at his reflection. The thick glasses, lank hair, skinny chest and sallow complexion filled him with self loathing, and he turned away in disgust. He looked round the living room of the apartment, at the two computers, the large monitors, the piles of books and discs, the scattered unwashed dishes from yesterday, take-away cartons still littering the table. "Is this what I've come to?" he thought. A surge of anger and self pity went through him, and with a burst of energy he tidied up, throwing cartons in the bin and dishes into the sink. He worked at the keyboard for a couple of hours, then went to bed, but although he felt drained sleep eluded him. He imagined her in the room above, sleeping serenely, her face peaceful on her pillow, her breast rising and falling, her dreams tranquil and pleasant. Did she dream of him ever? Of course she didn't, she never even noticed him! He was nothing, a nonentity, too far below her existence for her to be aware of. He masturbated frantically, her radiant face floating above him in the dark, her soft body imagined in his arms, her lips warm on his. Afterwards he found no relief, no peace. His mind raced like a motor with the throttle stuck wide open. Only toward dawn did he find a few hours of feverish sleep. In the morning, he dressed and went out. He found a hairdresser and asked if they could give him a modern, stylish look. They did their best, but a lock of lank hair still flopped over his brow. He stared into the mirror and thought that he looked like a young Hitler, without the moustache, and in thick glasses. He sighed as he paid the hairdressers, knowing that it wasn't their fault. "Can't make a silk purse out of a pig's ear." He told himself wryly. His next stop was a local gym, and he signed up for a year, thinking "In for a penny, in for a pound." He had no gear, but he bought some shorts and a T shirt at the gymnasium shop and changed into them. He found that he had no idea what to do once he was in the main gym, he hadn't exercised since school and even then it had been reluctantly. Under the guidance of an attendant he tried pumping a little iron with some light weights which still felt like lead ingots to him, then a session on an electric treadmill. The sweat rolled off him in waves, and he was glad he'd bought a towel so that he could shower. His heart felt like it was going to pound clean out of his ribcage, and his head swam. This wasn't going to be easy! Later, sitting at his apartment window, he watched her as she walked up the street and through the front door. Did he really think that he could turn himself into the sort of guy that a girl like that would give a second glance to? He was just fooling himself, the voice in his head told him. He heard her footsteps pass his apartment, going towards the stairs up to the next floor. He ached to open his own door, to stop her, talk to her, tell her how he felt, but he never could, he had no social skills, no way with words, no technique for approaching girls. He wasn't exactly a virgin, there had been that drunken fumble at college with a girl in his class, when she had taken him back to her room after a party where all the good looking trendy guys were already taken. He had been so scared at the thought that he was about to have sex for the first time that he couldn't get an erection, and when he finally did after much coaxing from her, he ejaculated seconds after entering her and she pushed him away in frustration and disgust. She never willingly spoke to him again. It was the limit of his sexual experience so far. Sitting alone in his darkened room, he heard the girl upstairs open and close her door, putting yet another barrier between them. He stared into the shadows in silence. The shriek rang through the building like an electric charge, a sound of pure terror, a lost soul being pursued through the caverns of Hell by flame eyed demons. A door slammed open, back against the wall, feet clattered and stumbled on stairs, a hand hammered on his door, hammered and hammered. He sat frozen, stunned with shock, then he ran to the door and flung it open, not knowing what to expect. It was her. She fell against him, sobbing, shaking, and instinctively he put his arms around her and held her close. Her hands clutched and scrabbled at him, clawing, her mouth open and gasping for air, ashen face with wide eyes close to his. He drew her into the room and sat her in a chair, not knowing what to do, what had caused this. Gradually she stopped shaking, looked at him, gasped "The bathroom! The bath! Oh God help me please!" He ran out of the room, up the stairs to her apartment, visions of disaster flowing through his brain. Did she have a room mate he didn't know about? Had she come home to find a wrist slashed corpse lolling out of the bath, blood rivering along the floor tiles? He ran into her rooms, into the bathroom, to the bath, and....... And, nothing! The bath was empty and dry. Empty except for.... A spider! Not a big spider. Not really a small one either, just a long legged house spider, the kind that spins webs in the corner of rooms and sits there for days waiting patiently. Kevin scooped it into a toothmug and carefully opening the window he tipped it out. It was light enough to survive the fall and with luck it would find somewhere else warm to hunt in. He went back down to his own place. She was still sitting there, hands clenched in her lap, trembling slightly. "It's gone." He said She nodded slowly, stood up. "Would you come back up with me please? Just for a minute?" "Yes, of course." They climbed the flight of stairs together slowly. She entered the small apartment, glancing round quickly, checking everywhere. "I put it out of the window." He said, "It can't get back in." She finally relaxed, her shoulders dropping slightly. She turned to look at him, colour coming back into her face, the hazel eyes wide and deep. "Would you stay for a while?" she asked "Have a coffee with me? Please." He nodded " O.K." She sat him in an easy chair while she made coffee. He looked around, at the furniture, not expensive but tasteful, the shelf of books, mostly on psychology as far as he could tell. She brought his coffee and her own and sat opposite him, the short skirt riding up her legs. He looked away, embarrassed, tried to think of something to say. "My name's Kevin." He eventually managed. Oh boy, that was sure going to impress her! What a stunning conversationalist he was! "I'm Lindsey." She replied, smiling. "Have you always been frightened of spiders?" "PLEASE! Don't even say the word!" She was trembling again. After a moment she looked down at the floor. "You must think I'm crazy. People who don't have real phobias never understand. It's not just being afraid, it just blanks out your mind. You can't think, you just go haywire, total panic. I'm sorry if I inconvenienced you. You're the only person I even vaguely know here. I just needed help." She sipped her coffee, then spoke again, her voice low, almost a whisper. "When I was little, a very little girl, my father would shut me in a small cupboard. He would tell me I'd been naughty, shut me in for hours. They were in there. I could feel the webs. I would think I could feel them crawling over me. I would scream and cry and kick the door but he'd leave me there for hours. Sometimes I'd wet myself with fear, then he'd think of some suitable punishment for that too. He did other things as well. You can probably guess what. My mother knew but she did nothing, just turned a blind eye. It went on for years, until someone noticed. They took me away from my parents then, I never saw them again. I don't even know if they are alive or dead, and I don't care. I spent the rest of my childhood in a care home until they threw me out at sixteen to sink or swim. And here I am. I'm sorry, I shouldn't be telling you. You can't know. You can't understand." Kevin looked at a spot on the carpet. Let it fill his head, blank out his thoughts, soothe him. "I do know." He said. "No, you can't know. Nobody really knows." Her voice was on the edge of breaking. He put down his cup, rubbed his eyes for a moment under the thick lenses. "When I was a kid," he said "my father would hit me and my brother. Not for any good reason, just because he was a drunk. He'd just lash out for no reason. He never held a job down for long because of the drink, he was always getting sacked. My mother had to work just to put food on the table, and he drank half of what she made too." She was staring at him now, her eyes soft. "One day my little brother was sick, couldn't go to school with me." He went on "My mother had to work. She left him with my father. I came home after school, the house was quiet. I couldn't find them. Then I went into the bedroom I shared with my brother. I found him there, he was lying on the floor, I couldn't get him to wake up or answer me." He stopped, emotion choking him. She reached out, put her hand on his. "Please, go on." "I ran to a neighbour's house. They came and tried to revive him, but he was gone. They called the police. When they came they searched the rest of the house. They found my father in the garage. He'd hung himself with a length of electric cable from a roof beam. They reckoned he'd hit my brother too hard in one of his rages, then realised what he'd done and killed himself." She squeezed his hand, knowing there was more to come. "My mother went to pieces, totally broke down. The doctor gave her some tablets, sedatives, antidepressants, something like that. A month after the funerals she took the whole bottleful while I was out. I found her, too. After that I went into care. I was nine years old. They found me foster parents. I must have made their lives Hell. They never gave up on me, they never stopped trying to help me, but nothing could stop the dreams. When I was old enough they put me through college, and a month after I graduated they both died in a car accident. I've lived alone ever since." There was a long silence. She reached up and touched his face. "Broken birds." She said. "What?" "I went to a therapist for counselling. She called people like me, like us, broken birds. She said that they could see the sky but without a lot of healing they could never fly there." There was nothing left to say. He sat quietly for a minute, then stood to go. Pain shot down his legs and he winced. She noticed and stood up. "What's wrong?" "Nothing really. I just joined a gym, I must have overdone it a bit." "Where does it hurt?" "Legs, arms, back, shoulders, everywhere!" He laughed. "Then this is how I can repay you for your trouble. I'm a masseuse, it's what I do, I can help with the sore muscles." "I don't know." He said, a little alarmed. "Now don't be silly. It's the least I can do after you rescued me. Come here." She led him into a small bedroom, a double bed filling most of the space. "Take your clothes off." "What? No, I couldn't!" "Look, I've seen it all before. Wait." She went out, came back with a towel. "Wrap that round yourself when you're undressed, lay face down on the bed and call me. Now don't be shy, I'm not going to eat you." "But....." too late, she was gone, the door clicking shut behind her. He stood in an agony of indecision, the thought of exposing his skinny body to her terrified him but at the same time he realised that there was something between them that he would kill in the bud if he backed off. Slowly and reluctantly he undressed. The towel seemed very small after he unfolded it, but he wrapped it around his hips as best he could and lay face down as she had said. "Ready!" he croaked. She came in immediately, she must have been just outside the door, waiting. He felt the bed shift as she sat on it beside him and his heart raced at her nearness. "Now, just relax." She said, and her fingertips touched his shoulders and gently began to probe and stroke, kneading the aching flesh, finding the knotted areas and gently soothing them. Slowly he began to lose the tension. The hands began to stroke down his back, long slow strokes, almost erotic. "So, what do you do down there in that apartment Kevin? I know you don't go out to work." "I write computer software," he said "stuff for small firms, websites, security stuff, so they can take credit cards over the net. It's what I took at college, computers are all I've ever really been interested in." "Because they don't ask questions? Don't have emotions? Just do as they are told, not like people? Never want love, never expect it, never give it." "Something like that." The hands moved down to his thighs, kneading and massaging the muscles, loosening the knots, and down to the calves of his legs, gentle skilful hands, probing and stroking. The hands left him for a few moments, and he felt her weight shift, heard a soft rustle of fabric, then they were on his lower back. "Kevin, I really should massage your buttock muscles, they're a very important area if you're doing work outs. Would it be OK to loosen the towel?" "I don't know!" he stammered. "I promise you, I won't do anything to embarrass you." "Well alright!" he heard himself say, amazed at his own daring. Her fingers unfastened the towel where it was twisted into itself at his hip and folded it off him. Gently she began to pummel the muscles in his butt, kneading with her knuckles and chopping rapidly up and down with the edge of her hands. It wasn't so bad, felt quite natural. He tried to think of her as a nurse, someone who just did this sort of thing as a living, and it relaxed him. Her fingertips began a circling motion on the inside of his thigh. It felt good, very good. The fingers worked up and down the leg, then almost so quickly he thought he may have imagined it, they gently brushed his scrotum. He blinked, surely it had been an accident, but the circling fingers moved up and brushed gently over his ball sac again, lingering slightly this time. He lay paralysed, not daring to move or speak. "Would you like to turn over and I'll do your pecs and arm muscles? You can put the towel over yourself if you like." He rolled onto his back, desperately clutching the towel over his groin. As he saw her, he gasped. She'd taken off her top and skirt and was wearing just a bra and thong. He goggled at her. "I hope you don't mind, but I was getting hot with all that massaging." She smiled. She kneeled beside him, and began to massage his upper arms and chest muscles, what there were of them, then she moved to his legs and began to massage the muscles on the front of his thighs. He watched her lean back flexing with the strokes, the flat stomach and trim waist, the firm breasts cupped in the lacey bra, the naked buttocks with the string of the thong vanishing between them. He realised to his dismay that he was getting an erection, the towl tenting up. Surely she would see it? She seemed not to be taking notice, just kept massaging the thigh muscles, but the fingers gradually crept higher and higher under the edge of the towel with each stroke until the tips gently touched his balls again, then withdrew. Again the fingers slid under the towel, this time moving over the balls and tracing a path up the shaft of his cock. He froze like a rabbit in headlights as she gently took the hard shaft in her fingers and ran her hand up and down it. With a careful motion, she drew the towel aside, exposing his erection, which she gazed at for a second before beginning to stroke it again, the hazel eyes looking into his, a smile playing around her lips. He groaned and reached for her, not knowing where to touch. She reached behind her, unhooked the bra and tossed it aside, then resumed the slow rhythmic cock stroking as he ran fingers down her back and side, cupped her nearest breast, hardly daring to touch her. Her fingers quickened, tightened round his shaft, flicked over the throbbing tip. The other hand gently cupped his balls and massaged them. With a gasping moan he shed his semen in waves of physical pleasure that blotted out everything else. Her fingers stroked in time to the spurts, cum running through them and over his naked belly, pumping him dry as his hips writhed under her touch and he ran his hands over her body, feeling the warm silky skin of her sides and breasts under his touch. She brought him tissues to clean himself up with, wiping her own hands. She stroked his stomach tenderly as she kneeled beside him. "I'm so glad you let me do that." She said. She lay down beside him, their bodies in contact. "How well can you see without those glasses?" she asked. "Only things very close up." "That's O.K. then." She gently plucked them from his face and put them on the bedside table. She snuggled close, her face near his. The hazel eyes were drowning pools. The scatter of freckles across her nose, the peach soft cheeks, the moist lips, all were clear in his sight, beyond her the room was a blur. She kissed him, her tongue probing between his lips, seeking his tongue, twining and caressing. He put his arms around her, felt the firm soft woman flesh, stroked her back gently. He felt himself becoming hard again, it pushed against her thigh as they lay together. She fumbled at her hips and he knew she was sliding the thong down her legs and off. Her hand slid down his belly and gently enfolded him. He groaned and cupped a breast, feeling the small hard nipple on his palm. She took his hand and guided it down her body, took a finger, he felt it brush through neat trimmed hair, then into warm wetness. She placed the tip of it onto her clitoris. "There. Just there," she whispered "stroke there, gently." He moved his finger carefully, slowly, and she closed her eyes and murmured in his ear. Her hand teased his cock, sliding up and down the hard shaft in delightful torment. She drew him over on top of herself, and her hand gently guided him inside her. This was nothing like the college girl. Lindsey lay beneath him, her fingers stroking his back and sides, her soft breath on his face, murmuring to him, her hips rising and falling slowly as he moved inside her. His earlier climax meant that he felt no urgency to cum, just the incredible sensations of the two of them moving together. Her body was a web of dreams, soft and fragrant, on which he floated. All of time and space shrank to a point around them. His loins were the centre of the universe. For long minutes he rode the surging waves of her thighs until he crashed on her warm shores and his orgasm raged through every fibre like a blaze of light and honey sweetness, and with a long moan he thrust deep into her as he came in slow waves of ecstasy, falling onto her as the sensations fled and left him empty even of thought. The Girl Upstairs The guy was on his back on my kitchen floor, working on my recalcitrant dishwasher, which had stopped working just when every dish in the house was dirty and loaded into it. His name was Pete and he was in a tight blue Dish-o-Matic uniform, his long legs stretched across my kitchen floor. While Pete labored on, I was sitting nearby at my small breakfast table watching him repair, so naturally we started talking. It was just a lot of guy-stuff. Baseball. Basketball. Nascar. We were both big Nascar fans. I told him a story I had heard about Mickey Tokie, the lategreat driver, who, I heard, had had a drunken orgy with six luscious bimbos in a motel room just before that final race when he crashed his speedster into the sidewall, and was incinerated in a spectacular volcano of Nascar flames. From there the conversation naturally drifted to our other favorite subject, women. Womenwomenwomen. Their legs. Their asses. Their racks. We enthusiastically recalled past pleasures. Tits. Pussies. Blowjobs. Fucks. Assfucks. And on and on and on. It so happens I had some good stuff I could show Pete, so I went into the bedroom and reached into my closet where I kept handy my treasure trove of fuck magazines. They were easily accessible, because I often perused them. I had been jerking off to them fairly frequently since my wife and I had broken up. I walked into the kitchen with a few of my favorites, and Pete was finishing up, putting the last screws into the back of the dishwasher. He was still lying on the floor. "Here. Look at this," I said and showed him a picture of this stacked blonde fingering her pussy. He put down his screwdriver and held the magazine up in front of his eyes. "Wow," he said. "Nice." He turned the page. I knew what was on the next page. The blonde was sucking some lucky guy's long stiff thick cock. "Wow. Nice." He reiterated. He started turning more pages. I could see his dick lengthening inside his tight blue uniform. Funny. I wasn't even looking at the magazine and I was getting a hard-on too. "I just love blowjobs," I rhapsodized. "Yeah. Me too," he answered. "I love the feeling of those nice wet lips wrapped around my dick, as I'm slamming my cock in until she starts to gag and choke." He laughed maniacally. "Yeah. Me too. I really love blowjobs. I love when they lick your balls. And under your balls. Right around your ass. It kind of tickles. It's so fucking sexy. And then they go back and clamp their mouth over your cock and start suctioning it, all the while their making all these little squealing pleasure noises, like your cock was the best thing they've had in their mouth since their first Christmas candycane. "Christ. Stop it. You're getting me hot," he said. He reached down and tried to adjust his tight pants around the obviously large constricted flesh contained therein. "Sorry," I said. I also had to adjust a little, but he didn't see that. He had put down the magazine and was putting the last screw into the back of the dishwasher. "Damn it. I wish I had someone to give me a nice hot blowjob right now," he said. And that's when I got this great idea. Mona. My upstairs neighbor. She loved to suck cock. Who should know that better than I? "I just had this crazy idea," I announced to Pete. "Yeah?" he asked. "My neighbor. The girl upstairs. She loves to suck cock. I mean, man, she gives the greatest blowjobs in the world." "She does?" He sounded interested "Maybe I could call her and ask her to come down. I think she'd be glad to suck that dick of yours. And she loves cum. She likes you to cum way down her throat so she can swallow it all." "Oh, my god," said Pete. "You're driving me crazy." "You want me to call her?" I asked. "Hell yes," answered Pete enthusiastically. He had rolled the dishwasher back against the wall and was giving it a test cycle. At the same time, almost unconsciously he had started lightly rubbing the fabric of his uniform in the area of the zippered fly. "You're gonna love Mona," I assured him. "I know I will," he answered and followed me to the phone, rubbing his crotch all the way into the living room. I picked up the receiver and dialed Mona's number. I knew it by heart. Mona and I had met some months ago in the lobby, waiting for the elevator. I had just recently moved into the building after separating from my wife. My wife had kept our old apartment and I had taken this rental. (This rental with a lot of faulty equipment. Like the dishwasher that had just conked out.) It wasn't that Shirley and I were fighting or anything. It's just that we never saw each other. She worked all day. And I worked all night. I was the night manager in a printing plant, and it was a good job. But there was no way I was every going to get transferred to days. So Shirley and I mainly passed each other going in and out of the front door. We had no relationship anymore. We had no sex anymore. That was when I started buying magazines. We mutually agreed that it would be better for us both if we separated, and tried to find a compatible partner living on the same shift. It had been a very long time since I'd had anything but a hand job. My own hand, that is. I was aching for some action. One morning not long after I took this apartment, I was just getting home from work, and I was standing in the lobby in front of the elevator door, waiting. And waiting. And waiting. The elevator was on 24-----23----------22-----22------22----was someone holding the door? I was tired and I just wanted to hit the sack. (After first looking at one of the magazines, and getting rid of the heavy load my balls were carrying.) It had been a tough night. We had just completed a six color annual report for a major corporation. It had been a complicated job, but the report looked just great. Full of impressive two-page spread pictures of oil-rigs stretched clear across the Gulf of Mexico. It was then that I first met Mona. She was dressed to kill, obviously getting home from a late evening. She had on a tight red dress, with a low cut collar and you could see the swell of her ample cleavage. Her lipstick, however, was completely smeared. She was carrying a small plastic bag from the deli, which was sufficiently see-through for me to detect a pint of non-dairy creamer. "I haven't seen you before," she said. "You new in the building?" "Yeah. Just a couple of weeks." "Welcome," she said. "I'm Mona Ashcroft. Apartment 5C." "Oh. You're right above me," I answered. "I'm in 4C. Jerry Jagger." "Pleased to meet you," she said. And we shook hands. It was at that point that I started to remember some of the tantalizing noises that were coming from the apartment above me during the daytime while I was trying to get some sleep. I had heard what I thought was moaning. And occasionally I heard some words which I could barely make out, but at one point, I thought some guy was yelling "Suck it, bitch." I got a slight hard-on while I was half sleeping, but then I dozed off again. And, also I had heard the mattress squeaking a lot. This Mona was undoubtedly a very hot chick. "You're up early," she commented, looking at her watch. It was now about 7:30 a.m. "I'm up late," I countered. "I'm just getting home from work." "My God," she said, with a slight pitying tone in her voice. "What do you do?" "I work in a printing plant. I'm on the night shift." "Your wife must love that," she commented. "She didn't. That's why we're separated." "Oh, I'm sorry." "Thanks," I said. "You look like you're just getting home from a big evening." "No. I was working too," she said. "What type of work do you do?" I asked, hoping I wasn't being presumptuous. "I cater bachelor parties," she said. "I take care of all the hiring and festivities to give the groom a big sendoff," she added. "Sounds like an interesting profession," I commented, not really understanding what we were talking about. "And you catered a party last night?" "Did I ever. It was one of those Park Avenue events in a big hotel ballroom I rented for the evening. There were over 200 guests." "I'm impressed," I told her. I was sure there were a million details involved in catering a large bachelor party in a hotel ballroom. The elevator arrived and I held the door for her. She pushed 5 and I was about to push 4 when she said---"Why don't you come up to my place for a little while. I'm about to make some coffee. We can chat." I thought about it for a fraction of a second. I was tired, but what the hell. "Sure," I said. I didn't push 4. Her apartment was just like mine. The layout, that is. Her decorations were a lot nicer. More feminine, you know. We went into the kitchen and I sat down at HER little kitchen table, while she made the coffee. We chatted about this and that, and when she was seated across the table from me, she took out the cardboard pint of non-dairy creamer from the bag, and we both poured a little into our coffees. "So now that you're separated, do you have a girlfriend?" She was being really direct considering our short acquaintance. "No," I answered. "I don't have time. Where would I meet anyone?" "Oh, I don't know," she kidded slyly. "Maybe waiting for an elevator." "Yeah," I said, and we both laughed. "So what do you do for relief?" Now she was really getting a little too personal. "Not much," I said, evasively. "But something," she persisted. "Well, maybe a little something." "And all by yourself?" "Well how else?" I yelled at her. I was getting annoyed. This was embarrassing. She didn't have to know how I got my rocks off. "I was only asking, because I thought maybe I could help," she said softly. "Yeah?" I asked stupidly. What was she getting at? "How could you help?" She swallowed the last sip of her coffee, and blotted her lips on a paper napkin. "Oh, you know," she said. I didn't really know but I nodded my head. "What I do for all the bachelors and their friends, I could do for you." I was beginning to get an idea what she was referring to. "I'm sorry," I apologized. "I don't make a lot of money." She laughed merrily. "Who said anything about money? We're neighbors, aren't we?" "Yes," I admitted. "Well, I like to be neighborly. I may knock on your door and ask to borrow a cup of sugar sometime. You wouldn't mind that, would you?" "No. I wouldn't mind that." "And you're a very good looking guy. Did anyone ever tell you that?" "Yeah, a few people," I admitted, but not in a boastful way. "Well, then." "Well?" I still didn't know how to proceed. I didn't think I should make a grab for her. She solved the problem for me. She came around the table and got me to push my chair back, and sat down on my lap. She leaned her head forward and we kissed. I stuck my tongue into her coffee flavored mouth. I could almost taste the non-dairy creamer. She was sitting down hard on my stiffening cock, and I had my arms around her waist and began to manipulate her weight on my itching throbbing appendage. She reached down and touched it through my pants. "It feels really big," she whispered into my ear. "Is it really big?" "Seven and a half," I said precisely. I had measured it more than once and I was proud of it. "MMMMM," she whispered seductively into my ear again. "I love big cocks." "You do?" I asked, hardly believing the luck that had come my way. "I do," she whispered. "I want to see it. I want to see it right now." She got up and immediately dropped to her knees in front of my chair. She slowly drew down my zipper, and worked her hand through the opening in my boxer shorts, and grabbed hold of it. Slowly she eased it through all openings, (outer and underwear) and it stood proudly erect, glad for a breath of fresh air, happy to be free of all fabric confinements. She rubbed her hand up and down on it a few times, like she was idolizing it, and then suddenly her head swooped forward and she took it into her warm mouth. "I love sucking cock," she told me. "You don't know how much I love sucking cock." "That's great," I said happily. I could never understand what a woman gets out of sucking a cock. It didn't seem like the kind of thing that would ever be appealing. But 'chaqu'un a son gout', as they say. To each his own. "Come on. Let's go into the bedroom," she said standing up and taking me by the hand. She led the way, and I happily followed. Once we were both undressed, she positioned me on my back with my dick facing the ceiling. I looked up at the ceiling and wondered what adventures were awaiting me in Apartment 6C. My god. Did this girl have a technique. I never felt anything like it in my life. I had never particularly liked blowjobs before, always preferring to fuck. But this blowjob---this one was beyond anything I had every felt. Beyond breastlicking, beyond pussyfucking, beyond assfucking. This was a whole new world. I had finally stumbled into Wonderland. "Eat me," I groaned. And she did. All the while she was working on me she was moaning. Obscene turn-on moans. Her soft tongue moved down and tickled my balls. "oooooohhhhhh," I groaned. She smiled. She knew she was turning me on. She knew what she was doing, all right. "Ooooohhhh." "You like that Jerry?" "Oooooohhhh." "I know you do, honey. I know you do." Then she stopped talking and went back to bathing my large tightening balls. She eased my legs over her shoulders. (the same way I used to easy my wife's legs over my own shoulders, while I was fucking her.) What did she have in mind? She lowered her head and began to tickle the smooth band of flesh behind my balls. "Oooooohhhhh," "Feels great, doesn't it?" she asked me. Then she continued to lick me. "Oooohhhhh." And then the biggest surprise of all. Her lovely tongue was lapping my asscheeks, and it felt wonderful. In my whole life, I had never had my asscheeks lapped, and I suppose most guys have never had their asscheeks lapped, and my god, it was great. It was beyond great. I was really in Wonderland. "Lap me lap me lap me," screamed Alice to the March Hare. And then... And you're not even going to believe this, she took her hands and spread my asscheeks, and her tongue was licking at my hole. Licking at my fucking asshole. Oh, my god. "AAAAAGGGGGHHHH," I screamed as my body tossed on the bed like a freshly caught trout on the deck of a boat. Oh my God. Her tongue was even going into my asshole. Oh my god. "MMMMMMMM. MMMMMMM." Said Mona. Now her mouth went back over my dick and her head went down and down and down, and the tip of my dick was hitting the back of her throat. I think they call that deep throat. Mona was deep throating me. "AAAARRRRHHHH," I gurgled. I could feel the hot cum begin to boil inside my balls. "I'm gonna cum," I screamed to give her warning to get it out of her mouth, but she just kept sucking and sucking and trying to get it even deeper inside. She twisted her body at a crazy angle to open her gullet, so my cock could slip past it deep into her esophagus-----and then it came. Splash after splash after splash---way down deep in her throat. "Drink me," said the bottle. And Alice did. Mona, slowly and lovingly eased my spent dick into the front of her mouth, where she tongued the remaining droplets of my ejaculate as if it were the finest champagne. How can women like to do this kind of stuff, I wondered. And yet I was intrigued. I wondered what it was really like for her. She obviously got something out of it. "There wasn't a dick at the bachelor party as nice as yours,' she assured me. I think I felt flattered. "Thank you so much," I said with heartfelt sincerity. "You don't know how much I needed that." "I think I do," she said, patting my shoulder. "And any time. I mean that. I'm right upstairs." "I wouldn't want to impose," I protested. "You're not imposing. Just give me a call first to make sure I'm free. Here let me give you my number." She wrote it down on a post-it and handed it to me. "I mean that. Any time. I love sucking cock." "How could anybody like sucking cock?" I asked, shaking my head. "No man can understand," she told me. "It's beyond wonderful. Working that sweet smooth dick into a hard rigid pole as I stroke it, and then sliding that smooth hard rod into my mouth, all the way into my mouth, as I milk it and milk it. And my final reward and greatest joy is a mouth full of hot sweet cum. Hot sweet mancum. It's beyond wonderful. You can't begin to imagine. And to know that as I'm enjoying myself, I'm giving exquisite pleasure to another human being. Life doesn't get any better. Sucking cock is paradise. That's all anyone could ever want in the next life." Well. If she was happy, I was happy. I kissed her lightly on the lips, not tasting the coffee or the creamer now, but maybe the last vestige of my own sperm. I went to the elevator, pushed the button, got in and went down one floor to my own apartment where I got undressed and got into bed and fell into a long deep wonderful sleep. Without even looking at my magazines. Even though I didn't want to be pushy, I took frequent advantage of Mona's hospitality. In fact, she seemed to enjoy it even more than I did. Sometimes instead of concentrating on my own pleasure, I began to try to imagine what it was like for her. To have my cock in my mouth. To lick it. To suck it. To lap my large hairy balls. To stick my tongue into my tight asshole, which I made sure was always very clean when I visited Mona. I always took a shower first, and eased a soapy finger into my little rectal hole. It felt kind of nice. I think my ass was getting a little eroticized. I wondered if maybe I was turning a little queer. But, hell, I think a lot of guys would get off on having their asshole fingered and licked. Wouldn't they? It was taking me longer and longer to come, because I wasn't feeling my own body all the time. My mind was in Mona's head. I studied every movement of hers. Every finger twitch, every tongue flick, the way her cheeks sucked in as she created a veritable vacuum in her mouth; the way she positioned herself so that my dick could pass her uvula as she buried the shaft entirely in her mouth, until her lips were resting against my balls. She was an expert. I had been very lucky to find Mona. She raised her eyes to mine and saw me intently studying her. "What's the matter, honey? Anything wrong?" "No," I protested. "Everything is just great. I was just concentrating on your technique." "Honey, my technique is patented. There isn't another lady in the world, who can do what I can do." "I believe that," I said. She smiled at me and swallowed my long shaft again, and within a few moments she had brought me to the doorstep of Nirvana. "AAARRRGGGHHH," I screamed as the scum began blasting out of my dick into her warm mouth. She drank it down like lemonade. I blasted and she drank. We had a good thing going. * * * * And then one day, the awful happened. I had used every dish in my apartment, and when I went to turn on the dishwasher. Nothing. I pressed the button again. Nothing. I pressed the fucking button six more times. I took a plate out of the dead machine and washed it by hand in the sink, so that I could eat my dinner before I went to work. Then I looked up Dish-0-Matic in the phone book and called for a repairman. They promised me that someone would be there between noon and four on Wednesday, the 26th. Great. Only 10 days to wait. Only 10 days of washing dishes by hand. What a world. But shortly after noon on the 26th the buzzer rang, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I picked up the intercom. "Dish-O-Matic," he said from the lobby. Thank God. I buzzed him in and waited by the door. That was how Pete came to be in my apartment today, fixing my dishwasher. The Girl Upstairs So when Pete and I started kidding about fucking and blowjobs and everything, I naturally thought of Mona. I knew she wouldn't mind helping out a nice guy like Pete. I mean, he was very good looking, and besides- - - she loved to suck cock, didn't she? She would thank me for this. They both would thank me for this. Was I a Good Samaritan or not? I lifted the receiver to my ear, and pressed out her number on the keypad. Pete was right next to me kind of rubbing on his crotch. We smiled at each other. Mona answered the phone. She sounded a little funny. Like she had a mouth full of cotton. "Hey, Mona," I said cheerfully. "It's me, Jerry." "Hi Jerry." "I got a little surprise for you," I teased her. "I can imagine," she said. "No. Not me. I got a friend of mine over here. Pete. Actually he came over to fix my dishwasher, and I was kind of telling him about you." "You were? What were you telling him?" Maybe I was digging myself into a hole. I mean women don't like it when you walk around telling everybody they suck cock. It makes them sound slutty. Maybe I shouldn't have said that. I tried to dig myself out. "About how beautiful you are." "Really?" "Yes. And what a nice neighbor you are. He wondered if I could introduce you to him." "I'm sorry, Jerry. Ordinarily I would love to meet him, but I have a killing toothache and I'm just on my way out the door to the dentist. I almost didn't answer this call." "But Mona. You gotta meet him. You'll really like him. He's a handsome guy. Tall and slender and muscular, with black curly hair." Pete and I were smiling at each other as I was describing him. He was sure that she would want to meet him. He hadn't heard her side of the conversation----about the toothache and the dentist. "No, I can't," she said. "I'm on my way to the dentist." Oh my goodness. I had gotten Pete's hopes up, sure that there would be no problem with Mona, and now this was happening. I got a little reckless. I decided to try anything that would entice her. I whispered into the phone, covering my lips, even though I knew that Pete could hear every word I was saying. He was right next to me, for christsake. "Mona. I haven't seen it. But I think he's got a very big cock. Really really big." "Jerry!" she yelled at me angrily, but I had gone too far to stop now. "Pete," I asked him. "How big is your dick? Mona wants to know how big your dick is," I lied. "Jerry!" Mona screamed again into my ear. "It's about 8-1/2 inches," said Pete, opening his belt and lowering his pants and jockeys to prove his statement. I stared at it in awe. I had never really looked at another man's hard-on before, but Pete's was really an impressive hard on. I had to admit that to myself. The power of suggestion. I was getting a hard-on from looking at Pete's hard-on. "Come on, Mona," I pleaded. "You have to see this. You really have to see this. Wait till you get this thing in your mouth. You don't even know what heaven is yet." "Are you crazy?" she screamed at me. "I have a toothache. I'm in agony. I'm going to the dentist. The only thing that's going into my mouth today is the little mirror, and possibly the drill. Oh, God. I hope not the drill. But probably." "Gee, Mona. I'm sorry. I'm sorry about your toothache and I'm sorry that you have to miss out on Pete." "I have to go now, Jerry. I have only one half hour to get to the dentist. Call me some other time." She hung up the phone. I stood there with the dead receiver in my hand, an apologetic look on my face. "She has a toothache. She's on her way to the dentist." I shrugged my shoulders and hung up the phone. "Jeez, man, you got me all excited over nothing. Look what you did." We both looked down on his large angry red throbbing erection. "You said I was going to get a blowjob," he complained, wrapping his fist around his needy organ. "I know. I know I did," I apologized. "I can't tell you how sorry I am about this." " 'Sorry' doesn't cut it, man. I need a blowjob. Desperately. Do you know anyone else?" I thought and I thought, and no, I didn't. The only other woman I knew was my wife who would be at work now, and certainly would not come over to suck the cock of a dishwasher repairman in any case. I shrugged my shoulders. But an idea was growing in my head. I felt so bad about getting Pete worked up for nothing. This was all my fault. I felt I kind of owed him something. But what could I do? I knew what I could do. But no I couldn't do that. But maybe I could do that. Maybe if I even offered he would punch me in the mouth, and then I would have to go the dentist. "Say something, man," He prodded me, stroking his hard dick, which my eyes were now glued to. "You really need a blowjob?" I asked tentatively. "Yeah. That's what I need. Some hot sucking lips on my 8-1/2 inch wang, Jerry." "Well. Would you want me to try?" "That's at least a thought, Jerry." "I've never done this before. I don't know if I can." "Let's give it a try," he suggested. "I can look at the magazines, while you work on me. I can imagine that you're a beautiful blonde babe with big tits. I just won't look at you. I'll look at these magazines." "Okay," I said. "This is all my fault, and it's up to me to help you out. Let's go into the bedroom." He picked up the magazines and followed me into the bedroom. I made him take off his shoes and socks before lying down on the bed. I took off my own shoes and socks. He stripped off his pants and jockeys, but kept his shirt on. He leaned back against the pillows, in a half-sitting position, and holding his arms high to allow me access below, he began turning pages and looking at all the busty blondes sucking cock as I was about to do the same. Still clothed, I knelt between his legs and gingerly took his big rod in my left hand. It was warm. It was so warm. It was so stiff. I looked at it. It was really beautiful. That innocent little eye staring up at me. And those large perfectly round balls, pulling tight as his cock lengthened even more at my touch. Involuntarily, I was starting to salivate. I eased my head down ever so slowly. A man's cock in my mouth....... What next? I stuck out my tongue, and licked around the smooth knob. So smooth. So smooth. Lovely. I lowered my head and took some of the shaft into my mouth. The knob rolled back along my tongue. Oh. This was nice. I was beginning to realize what Mona liked about sucking cock. This was very nice. I began to really work on it now. My salivary juices were flowing, and Pete was starting to moan. A couple of times he stopped turning the pages of the magazine, and put it down, and just shut his eyes, and I knew I was making him feel really good. And I was so happy. I was so proud and so happy. And he was moaning and moaning, and then he started raising his hips, forcing his dick deeper down my throat, and I did start to choke a little, but I just started breathing heavily through my nose, and I was able to control my gag reflex. I didn't want to take his cock out of my mouth. I wanted it there. Just like this. And now he brought his hand down on top of my head and forced my head further down on his sweet rod. And it was sweet. Like Sugar. I loved it. I loved it. But then I thought about some of Mona's other little tricks, and reluctantly I withdrew the long shaft from my mouth. Spit was just pouring down my chin and over his beautiful balls, which I now began to lick and suck on, even enjoying the scratchiness of his ball hairs on my busy tongue. "Ooooooohhhhhh," he moaned, just as I had moaned when Mona had sucked my balls. Yes. Mona had taught me a lot. Thanks to Mona, I was an ace cocksucker. "Damn it. You're good," said Pete. "Thank you," I answered and continued on down to the smooth area below his balls, and then lifting his legs over my shoulders, I began to feast on his handsome firm asscheeks. "Wow," he said. "Wow," But I was not done yet. I spread his buttcheeks apart until the perfect little pink hole was visible and winking at me, and I kissed it. I tongued it and I kissed it as he thrashed about on the mattress, pressing my face tightly into his musky ass. My tongue penetrated, and I thought it would be awful, but it wasn't, and I knew that I would do anything for Pete. Anything at all. "Suck my cock," he screamed at me. And I did. I raised my head up and planted my jaws firmly around his cumgun, as he grabbed my hair, controlling every up and down movement of my head, as he raised and lowered his strong midsection, thrusting his organ deeper and deeper down my gullet. And suddenly I knew he was on the very edge of completion. I knew he was about to come, and I also knew that I was about to come. So as I sucked, I frantically lowered my pants and underpants, grabbing hold of my own throbbing joint and pulling on it in desperation. He screamed as his cum started blasting down my throat in jet after jet after jet of salty-sweet seed. And as the first gush hit the back of my throat, my own rod let loose its own gusher, all over my blankets. I would worry about that later. I came and I came and I came. Not even when Mona had sucked my cock, had I gushed forth suck a torrent. Now I knew who I was. And I accepted it. Hell. I reveled in it. "You're a great cocksucker," said Pete, as his softening dick slipped from my mouth. "Where did you learn to do that?" "I just did what Mona does," I said. "I'll really have to meet this Mona one day," he said. "Well, if she's not available, I guess I could help you out again," I offered. I mean, I had already done it once, so what difference would it make if I did it again. "Yeah. Maybe when I'm in the neighborhood, I'll give you call," he offered. "Just keep those magazines handy." We both laughed, but I went to my desk and wrote out my phone number on a little note sheet and handed it to him. As soon as he cinched his belt, he took the paper from me, carefully folded it and placed it in his wallet. I hoped he would be in the neighborhood again very soon. During the next few weeks, nothing much happened. It seemed Mona needed root canal, and also some gold crowns, which were being made, and she had temporary fillings in her mouth, which could come loose and would not permit her to pursue her vocation. The bachelors and their buddies would have to do without her for a while. Every day, I hoped that Pete would call, but I guess he didn't have any repairs in this area. I was dying to try that again. But then a lucky thing happened. (At first I didn't think it was lucky and I cursed and stamped on the floor, but it turned out to be lucky.) My television went dead. I was sitting there watching, and everything went black and silent. I figured out it wasn't the set. It was the cable box. I called the cable company and only had to wait three days for an appointment. Two hours into the specified time frame, the intercom rang. It was Cable. I buzzed him in and waited by the door. His name was Marco, and he was of Italian extraction. And young. And sexy. I had the magazines handy near the television, and as he changed the cable box, we started talking about the ladies. And fucking. And blowjobs. And I showed him pictures. And I could see it was working. And I made my pitch. "Hey. You know there's this girl upstairs. She just loves to give blowjobs. I bet if I called her she would come down and suck your cock for you. Would you like that?" "Would I ever," said Marco enthusiastically. "I'll call her," I said. "She likes to know how big your cock is. How big is it?" "Nine inches," he boasted. Gee. A half inch bigger than Pete's. This would be a challenge. I pressed out Mona's number on the pad, but at that point I placed my body between Marco and the phone so that he would not see my finger holding down the button. I was talking into a dead telephone. "Hey, Mona. It's Jerry. Why don't you come down here for a cup of coffee? I've got this friend I'd like to introduce you to. His name is Marco----------------- Oh. Come on, Mona. He's got a nine-inch dick. You're gonna love this guy. But Mona. But Mona. But Mona. Okay. I'll call you later." I turned to Marco apologetically. "She's got this bad toothache. She's on the way to the dentist." His face fell. "God. I feel so guilty," I apologized. "I got you all worked up over nothing. I promised you a great blowjob, and now Mona has to go the dentist. I feel just terrible." He shrugged sadly, rubbing his dick slightly through his pants. "My god. I can see you've got this big hard-on. I can't let you get blue balls. That would be terrible. And it would be all my fault. There must be something I can do." "You know anyone else?" he pleaded. "No. I don't . I'm sorry. Just Mona. And she gives the best head. You never felt anything like it. I'm so sorry I can't get her for you." He shrugged again. "But wait. I have an idea." His face brightened. "I mean don't get me wrong. I'm not queer or anything. But I got you all excited for nothing, and I feel it's only right for me to help you out. I mean. I would be willing to suck your cock for you, if you wouldn't mind. Just to help you. You could just look at the magazines and pretend that your dick was in the mouth of some sexy beautiful blonde with heavy swinging tits,--- like her-----" And I opened the magazine and showed him a beautiful blonde with heavy swinging tits, and a cock in her mouth. His face brightened. "Okay," he said. It hadn't been that difficult to convince Marco. He was a hot-blooded Mediterranean, after all. I led him into the bedroom where he totally undressed before lying down on the bed. He picked up one of the magazines and started looking through it as his cock waved in the air. While he was looking at the magazine, I stripped myself. I didn't want to be encumbered this time. But he wasn't even looking at me. He was looking through the magazines and gently manipulating his equipment. What a beautiful dick. Powerful. Thick. Rigid. Warm. Pulsing. I crawled between his thighs, and began to give him the best head he would ever have in his life. I took it in my mouth and began to worship it wetly as it deserved to be worshiped. It felt—well--glorious. The smooth knob. The hard shaft. I flicked my tongue against the little top hole. I drew in my cheeks and went down and down and down. I did everything that Mona had taught me, everything that I had done to Pete, and even more. I licked the flesh on the inside of his thighs, from his knees into his crotch. I took each of his balls one by one into my mouth and warmed them. He was screaming. He was moaning. He was thrashing. And then he was screaming. He was moaning. He was thrashing. He was still screaming. He was still moaning. He was still thrashing. But he wasn't coming. What was I doing wrong? I kept lapping. I kept licking. I knew he was enjoying it, but he wasn't coming. Damn! If he didn't come soon I was going to be late for work. I didn't have one trick left in my bag. I had done it all. Damn. I looked at him questioningly. "I'm sorry," he said. "This is just great. But I can't come while I'm getting blown. I need to fuck." "Oh," I said. "Can I fuck you?" Well,,,,," I stalled. I had never thought about that. "Please," he begged, and at that point he licked a finger and reached around me, touching it to the edge of my butthole, as I did to myself when I was showering. And his finger felt kind of nice. I relaxed myself, and felt his finger slip in a little. I let it. "Please," he said. "I need to fuck. I really need to fuck." It was all my fault he needed to fuck so badly. What could I do other than say 'yes?' "Okay," I agreed. "But you're kind of big." "I'll put it in slow," he promised. I had no lubricant in the house. Absolutely none. This was a standard drug store item. Why didn't I have any lubricant in the house? Just because I never used lubricant didn't meet I might never need to have lubricant in the house. But it was too late now. He spit on himself. He spit on me. I was lying on my stomach, and he positioned himself above me, aimed his dickhead, and pushed. And it hurt like hell. No way was that going in. But he wouldn't give up. He kept spitting and pushing, and little by little he got the head in. I was fairly breathless by this time. "Wait," I begged him. "Don't move. Let me get used to it." I made him hold still as my asshole adjusted to his enornimity. And all of a sudden, without warning, he thrusted. The bastard just slammed it in. All the way in, till I could feel his balls against mine. I screamed and felt excruciating pain. I thought I would die. You bastard. I asked you to wait," I yelled. "Just shut your fucking faggot mouth and take it like a man," he said wrapping his arms around me and beginning to plunge in and out. I could feel his hard balls against my own as he pressed into me. I could feel the scratching of his pubic hairs against my smooth buttcheeks. "Owww. Owwww. Owww," I screamed, trying to struggle and push him off, but there was no way I could get out from under him. "Uggghhh. Ugggghhhh. Ugggghhhh," I moaned as it started to feel good. It was feeling better and better and my asshole was just clutching at his enormous dick and trying to hold it inside me every time he would withdraw it slightly. "Ugggghhh. Ugggghhhh. Uggggghhhh," I screamed. "Fuck me," I begged him. "Fuck my ass." What an incredible sensation. That thick hard flesh muscle stimulating my mucous membrances. Holy God. This was fantastic. "Fuck me," I begged him again. "Fuck my hot ass." And the thrusting created an ever-growing vacuum in my nether regions, which needed to be filled completely with steaming hot liquid. With Marco's thick viscous cum. "Take it faggot. Take my big thick dick up your hot faggot ass. Make me cum in your hot faggot ass. I love to shoot my load into hot faggot asses like yours. You guys are better fucks than all those horny housewives I get every day. Take that dick, faggot!" I should have been angry. I should have been furious. But this was turning me on so much. That's what I was. I was his faggot. And I needed his hot manload up my hot faggot ass. How come I hadn't known this before? "Fuck my faggot ass," I screamed raising it up to him as he plunged down, and I heard the slap slap slap of manflesh. "CCCCCHHHHHHAAAAAA," he screamed as he let loose his Sicilian or Neapolitan semen in my hot faggot ass which drank it thirstily. My own semen shot out of my own body simultaneously. Again soiling my newly dry-cleaned blankets. Well. Back to the cleaner's. It had been worth it. I wrote out my phone number for Marco and made sure that he tucked it safely inside his wallet before leaving. Then it was time for me to shower and get to work. During the next several days I thought often about Marco. I thought often about Pete. I walked around my apartment wondering which appliance I could break next. I clearly needed a repairman. I clearly needed a man. Or many. What to do? What to do? And then I started getting this idea. It kept growing and growing in my mind, and finally I picked up the phone and called Mona. This was going to be embarrassing, but Mona could possibly have the answer to my strange new problem. "Hi. How's your tooth?" I asked. "Getting better," she said. "But the crowns aren't in yet. I still have temps." "Can I come up for a cup of coffee?" "I'm sorry," she said. "I still have temporary fillings. They could come loose. I can't help you." "No. Not that," I explained. "I just want to talk. Can I come up for a cup of coffee?" "I have no creamer," she said. "I have," I answered. "Well, okay," she agreed. "But just talk." I went to my refrigerator and took out my pint of non-dairy creamer. I walked to the elevator and took it up to the fifth floor. I rang Mona's bell. The Girl Upstairs She was in a housedress with her hair in curlers, this time. No glamour We went into the kitchen and she poured the coffee. I put some creamer in mine and passed her the pint. "What is it?" she asked, more than a little curious. We stared at each other across her little kitchen table. I didn't know how to get started. Finally she said, "Yes?" "I don't know how to tell you this. It's a little embarrassing." "Oh, come on now. What could be so embarrassing after all the times we've spent together?" "Well," I started slowly, trying to find my words. "Remember a few weeks ago when I called you about my friend Pete?" "The one with the 8-1/2 inches?" "Yes. "I remember," she said. "You had volunteered my services, right?" "Yes," I admitted. "He was fixing my dishwasher, and we got to shooting the breeze, and I sort of mentioned what a great gal you were." "And also what a great cocksucker?" "Well, yes. I had mentioned that." "I thought so," she nodded. "And then you were on your way to the dentist, and Pete had this enormous hard-on, and he was really pissed off because I had really almost promised him the best blowjob he would ever have in this lifetime------" "Thank you, I guess," she said. "And I was feeling so guilty, and I didn't know what to do to make it better so........" "So?" "I offered to do it for him." "You what?" Her coffee cup stopped in midair and she stared at me in amazement. "I offered to suck him off, since you couldn't come down." "And he agreed?" "Yes." "And you gave him head? "Yes." "I'm stunned," she commented. "I was too. But remember you were always telling me how great it was ---to suck a cock? I couldn't imagine how anybody could like sucking a cock. I was thinking 'ditsy women-they like to suck dick----yuch.' But then I sucked Pete's cock, just as a favor and------" "Yes," she nodded, her eyes narrowing. "Well, you were right. It was unbelievable. I loved it. It was just as great as you said it was." "So now you know." "Yes," I said. "I really loved it. And I did a great job too. You would have been so proud of me. I tried to do it just the way you do it. It was you who taught me what a good blowjob was, and I know I gave Pete a great blowjob." She didn't know what to say, so she said, "That's wonderful. I guess maybe I'm like a drama coach whose student has just won the Oscar." "Definitely," I assured her. But now the floodgates had opened and I had to tell her everything. "One other thing," I said. Her coffee cup paused at her lip, waiting for the next bombshell. I continued. "I also took it up the ass." The coffee cup started shaking in her hand. She set it down. "You took it up the ass?" "Yes," I admitted petulantly. "And I loved it." She couldn't believe what she was hearing. "You let Pete fuck you up the ass?" "No. Not Pete. Marco." "Who is Marco?" She questioned me. "The cable repairman." "Of course," she said, smiling at me kindly. "You have been busy." "Actually not as busy as I'd like." "I see," she said. But it was just an expression. She didn't see at all. She didn't see what a faggot slut I had become. "But why are you telling me all this?" She asked me. That's what was confusing her. She really didn't want to listen to my lurid confessional. I don't think she really wanted to know all the little details of my recent forays into gay sex. So I got right to the point and presented it to her. "That's why I was wondering," I continued. "What were you wondering?" "Do you think you might ever be able to use me at one of those bachelor parties you cater?" I had been thinking of those bachelor parties for a while now. All that wild, tipsy, bachelor cock needing satisfaction, needing release. An endless line of priapic bachelors and their buddies eager to enter any orifice. It would be fun. It would be fulfilling. And I might even make a buck. The Girl Upstairs I had been renting a bedroom in Jessica's home in suburban San Francisco for about three months. I found the room for rent on craigslist when it became apparent the economy was preventing me from keeping my $1200-per-month bachelor pad. I joined fellow renter Alex in the three-bedroom, two-story cottage-style house. Jessica and Alex had lived together in the home for the better part of three years. My initial suspicions that they were maintaining a sexual relationship proved to be false; Alex's girlfriend stays over every night, and from the moans coming through my wall every night it's apparent Alex is not lacking sex. Jessica lives in the upstairs bedroom. When she's home, she's usually in her room or in the upstairs office. I remember wishing she spent more time downstairs; her toned, 25-year-old body and perky C cups along with her one-of-the-guys demeanor had me spending more than a few nights molesting myself while thinking about her. I've been talking to Stella, a girl I met in my math class last semester. I quickly learned just how much of a nympho the 19-year-old is. This was not a bad discovery for me. Her five-foot-six, 115-pound, brunette, Italian frame held perfectly-proportioned C cups with, as I would find out later, pierced nipples. It didn't take long for me to get to know Stella intimately. Shortly thereafter, she moved with her family to Chicago. We maintained communication on the phone and online. The vast majority of our chats ended up turning into heated phone/cyber sex sessions. In one of the more intense sessions, we both expressed exhibitionist fantasies but revealed that we had never acted on them. One of my long-held fantasies involves me getting caught masturbating and, instead of stopping, just continuing. One morning I was chatting with Stella online, and the conversation heated up. She suggested I "pull it out and give it a little rub." I pulled my sweat pants off to uncover my already-hard member. I half-jokingly told Stella I was considering opening my bedroom door a crack, as Jessica was watching television in the living room and could see into my bedroom from the right angle. Stella loved the idea. I began to seriously consider it, and told her I might even just open it all the way and be shameless in my exhibitionism. She jumped all over this: "Do it for me babe. No blankets though." I couldn't resist. I opened the door completely to find Jessica had left the living room. Disappointed, I sat back down. I asked Stella if her roommate was home (she lives with her brother's male friend in a two-bedroom apartment). She informed me that in fact he was, but he was in his bedroom asleep. She also informed me that she was considering grabbing her trusty vibrator and moaning loud enough to wake him up. I told her to do it, but if my door was open so must hers be. She complied. She got down to her birthday suit and sat on her bed, vibrator in one hand, keyboard in the other. We continued the dirty talk for a few minutes, her typing noticeably slowed. Suddenly there was a break in the conversation, and I looked into the living room to find Jessica sitting on the couch watching me. Our eyes locked, but I kept going. Suddenly her gaze shifted from my eyes to my cock, and the sight caused her nipples to harden up under her white wife-beater tank top. Jessica had clearly decided to pass on wearing a bra this morning. After a few moments, she got up and went upstairs. I turned my focus back to my screen to find that Stella had also been caught in the act. She explained to me that she looked up and saw Jake (her roommate) standing in her open doorway with a smirk on his face. Getting caught had caused a rush of arousal to make her pussy even more wet. She began pounding the vibrator deeper into herself to give Jake a show. She noticed the tent he began to pitch in his pants. Without a word, he took off his pants and began rubbing his thick, veiny cock. I heard footsteps on the hardwood floor outside my bedroom. I looked up to find Jessica had come back downstairs, this time brandishing a very large, pink dildo. Her nipples were clearly hard now through her tank top, and a noticeable damp spot had developed in the crotch of her pink cotton shorts. "Mind if I join?" she asked. I motioned her into my room, all the while still jacking furiously on my hard, red cock. She quickly removed her tank top exposing her perky tits and tan nipples characteristic of Asian women. She sat on my bed and let the dildo fall to her side. She began pinching her right nipple while rubbing the tip of her left. Arousal washed over her face and I could see she was ready to take off the shorts and fill my room with her scent. I looked back at the screen. Jake had made his way over to Stella and took the vibrator from her pussy. He knelt next to her and jammed his finger inside her. He began to finger her bald, wet Italian pussy violently, of which she couldn't get enough. Returning the favor, she reached up and grasped his throbbing member in her hand. She stroked him gingerly, more interested in what was happening in my part of the country. Jessica yanked off her shorts to reveal that not only was she not wearing a bra, but on this day my hot Asian roommate had opted to go commando as well. Normally I prefer a bald pussy, but on Jessica, a few days' worth of stubble was a great look. She sat spreadeagle on my bed, gently rubbing her clit with her right index finger while watching my hand move up and down my shaft. I had an idea. "I need some lube, but I'm out of lotion," I announced. She smiled and leaned back, supporting herself with her hands. She nodded downward at her completely exposed pussy, clearly inviting me to use her juices. I walked over to her and dipped two fingers in. I began to finger her gently, then pulled my fingers out and rubbed her juices on my cock. Dissatsfied with the amount of juice I had gotten, I knelt down on the bed with one leg on either side of Jessica. I slid my now rock-hard cock into Jessica's waiting pussy. After two pumps, I pulled out much to her shagrin. I went back over to my chair and resumed stroking, using her juices for lubrication. I peered back at the screen. Jake had begun eating Stella's pussy. Why she was still talking to me was anyone's guess, but the candor of the whole situation made it one of the best sexual experiences I've had in my 21 years of living. Her typing became almost illegible and was extremely slow, but given she was near climax and typing with one hand, I let it slide. Jake moved up from her pussy to her mouth, allowing her to grab his cock again and continue stroking. She stroked faster and harder, until his member throbbed and exploded, blowing his sticky cum on the sweet girl's stomach. She continued to stroke, aiming his cock at her face and taking the rest of the load. She grabbed her cell phone and sent me a picture message as proof. This was getting too much for me to take. My hand was almost a blur on my shaft, and Jessica was pounding the dildo into herself so hard I thought she was about to start bleeding. I turned my laptop toward the bed (angling the built-in webcam toward Jessica) and began a stream with Stella. Jake had left her room, and I saw her attempting to finish herself off. She was making sex faces at me in a poor attempt at being a porn star. I told her she was in for a show before getting up and making my way over to Jessica. I took the dildo from Jessica, pushed her back onto the bed, and slid my cock deep inside her. I pumped gently a few times before hammering her little twat. Her tits were almost hitting her chin as I fucked her, and her moans were definitely making their way into Stella's bedroom. I (rather creatively) ordered Jessica to "moan so loud they can hear you in Chicago." She was unaware we were being watched, via webcam, by Stella in Chicago. I flipped Jessica over and rammed my cock into her pussy from behind. I wanted to be able to watch Stella without Jessica knowing. I turned my head to see that Stella had resumed fucking herself with her vibrator to the sight of my monstrous erection abusing Jessica's rarely-fucked pussy. Stella's pussy contracted, she pulled the vibrator out, and juices gushed from deep inside her; she had just cummed. She closed the stream. Now it was about me. I turned my attention back to Jessica. I grabbed her hips and began jackhammering her pussy. I pulled out and laid on my back, pulling her on top of me. She straddled me, grabbing my shaft and sliding it inside her. She began bouncing up and down on my cock, her natural tits bouncing with her. I felt her lips clamp around my shaft, and she dug her nails into the bed. Her thighs tightened against my hips and she began convulsing. She was having an orgasm. I had been a moment's notice from blowing my load for some time, so I let it go inside Jessica. Like most girls, she loves the feeling of a man shooting his cum inside her pussy, so she moaned as I released. This made me cum more, until I filled her with my gravy. She crawled off and laid next to me. We were a tangled mess of limbs, sheets, and cum. When she caught her breath, she got up and collected her clothes. As she stood there, I could see my fluid running down her inner thigh. I smiled to myself. She made her way to the still-open door. She paused before leaving, turned to me, smiled, and said "Rent's due next week." The Girl Upstairs For a long while they lay and held each other. He knew that she hadn't climaxed, and she whispered to him that it didn't matter, it wasn't his fault, that she needed time with a new lover, that it would happen, she would teach him how to please her. "What do we do now?" he asked. "Whatever we want." She answered. "It will be nice to have someone close to come home to. Someone to call on, someone to visit me. Do you want to visit me?" "Yes, of course I do!" he replied. Eventually he dressed, and she put on a robe and let him out. He went back to his own dark rooms. That night he slept deeply, without dreams, and woke early, feeling energised. He heard Lindsey pass his door, heading to work, and on a whim he decided to follow, maybe to visit her there, take her to lunch. He expected to find a physiotherapy clinic or sports centre, where a good masseuse would be an asset. Dressing quickly, he ran down the stairs and out, in time to see her trim figure in the distance. Carefully he followed, not wanting her to see him, intending to surprise her. She walked for about ten minutes, then near the town centre she turned down a small side street and halfway down entered a building. He hurried after her, reached the door, and stopped, at first puzzled, then as slow realisation dawned, shock and dismay settled on him. On the glass of the door, in large lurid pink letters, were the words "Golden Kiss. Massage service. Escorts available." And opening times, plus a phone number for daytime, and one for out of hours. Stunned, he stood for what seemed like hours, then anger took over. He pushed the door open and thrust himself inside. He was in a small hallway, like a reception area, with a middle aged woman behind a desk. "Can I help you?" she asked? "I want to see Lindsey!" "Who?" "Lindsey! The girl who just came in here! I want to see her!" his voice rose. "If you are going to cause trouble you can go right now!" the woman stood up and looked as if she meant business. "Annie!" Lindsey's voice, from halfway up a flight of stairs "It's alright. I know him. Let him come up." "He has to pay the basic fee, friend of yours or not." Answered Annie. Kevin fished out his wallet and threw a note down onto the table. He turned and followed Lindsey up the steps and down a narrow passage into a small room, with a massage couch and a small table full of lotions and oils. He could see a pack of condoms there too. His stomach felt as if it had been kicked. Lindsey looked at him, not speaking, her face blank. He fought for words, his mouth working, finally spitting out "So this is what you do!" She nodded slowly. "Yes Kevin, this is what I do. I was going to tell you when the time was right. Really I was." "And when was that going to be?" he slumped, feeling drained. His thoughts span in his head. "Kevin, it's how I earn my living. I know what you must be thinking, but it means nothing. It's just a job." "Just a job! But you're a....." he stopped. "Say it Kevin! A whore! I'm a whore! Why don't you say it?" "But yesterday we, you and me, we...." He groped for words. "We made love Kevin. That's what it was. Not what happens here." "Oh sure. How many guys have you had Lindsey? A hundred? A thousand? All meaning nothing?" Her eyes brimmed with tears "I thought you were different Kevin. Not like the guys who come here. Can't you see? Where else does someone like me go except a place like this? I thought you were different from them. The muscle tattoo freaks who think it's alright to slap a woman around. The drunk college kids in here for a dare. The middle aged men who think that coming to me isn't really cheating on their dreary wives because it's only business, not a proper affair. I thought you would understand that. They mean nothing. It's just how I earn a living." She reached out to him, but he pulled away. Anger flared through her tears. "Get out Kevin! If that's how you feel get out!" He ran down the passage, stumbled down the stairs past the alarmed woman behind the desk, crashed through the outer door, Lindsey's voice ringing in his ears as he went, full of anger and despair. "We come from the same place Kevin, you and me, the same place!" He shut himself in his room for five days, until his food was exhausted. He didn't shower or shave, worked on his computers in short , feverish bursts and slept fitfully, waking to half remembered dreams. He looked in the bathroom mirror, smelled his own body odour, saw the grime and stubble on his face. He sat on the edge of the bath, head in hands, for a long time, slowly coming to a decision. He cleaned himself up and dressed in clean fresh clothes. He went out and found a flower shop and bought a large bunch of mixed blooms. He had no idea what they were called but they were bright and pretty. He took them back to his room and put them in water in the sink. He heard Lindsey pass his door, gave her half an hour, then taking the flowers he climbed the stairs to her landing and knocked. She opened the door almost immediately, suspicion darkening her face when she saw him. He pushed the blooms toward her, awkwardly. "I bought you these." He said She took the flowers, staring at them mutely, holding them as if they were porcelain. A solitary tear gathered in the corner of her eye and trickled slowly down her cheek. "Damn!" he thought "Why do I always make her cry?" "Nobody ever gave me flowers." She said. "In my whole life, nobody ever gave me flowers." He tried to speak, gulped, his voice sticking in his throat. He tried again. "I wanted to say, about the other day, what I did, I shouldn't have...I'm sorry that...." She looked at him, nodded slowly, her eyes fixed on his. "I was wondering," he said " I thought...you and me...maybe...could we...go for a meal...dinner..something." "We'd never get a table." She said "I've got a lasagne cooking. There's enough for two, if I make a salad, warm a ciabatta. I think I have a bottle of wine somewhere too. Would you like that?" "Yes. Yes please." She stood aside, waiting for him to come in. "Do you think," he began " Do you think that maybe two broken birds...could learn to fly...together...?" She put her hand up to his face, forefinger extended, laying it across his lips as if to shush him, then she drew him into the apartment, and closed the door behind them on the world.