The residential complex of luxurious buildings in which I lived had a standard: spacious living rooms, integrated with an american kitchen and dining table, without divisions, the bedrooms and bathrooms in the background, hidden from the large panoramic window that took up the entire central room.
That meant that from the moment the curtains were open, anyone had access to my privacy. Which also meant that under the same circumstances, I had full access to my neighbor's privacy.
Actually, I don't think "privacy" quite covers it. We might as well call it "intimacy".
James lived in the building next to mine and exactly on the same floor as my apartment. So, considering all the variables, he was the neighbor I had the most contact with in the entire condominium. Of course, the fact that he was practically inside my house while watching television greatly contributed to this inevitable closeness.
The first time I saw him it had been a month since I moved in. He was on an international trip and therefore I had never found his curtains open until then. It was a timidly sunny morning, in which I, without worrying about exposing myself, since the resident in front hadn't shown up until then, was wearing a rather sloppy pajama. And, by sloppy, I mean short and frayed. Women will understand me, there's nothing in this world more comfortable than putting on a big and loose t-shirt and sleeping in underwear. I mean, there is, after all, the contact of the recently purchased Egyptian sheets with my bare skin was undoubtedly exceptional, but I felt uncomfortable walking around without clothes in the house, even if I was alone, so when I got up I always put on such attire.
I was sitting at the kitchen counter having my daily coffee, enjoying the weak rays of sunshine and reading the latest issue of Vogue in my sloppy pajamas, when I could see from the corner of my eye the curtains of the apartment across mine opening. My curiosity about the mysterious resident made it inevitable for me to lazily scan my neighbor with my eyes, starting from his large bare feet, following the worked calf muscles, and reaching the simple black shorts, which temptingly hung on his hips, leaving the beginning of his underwear and well-marked grooves visible.
I forced down the cold coffee.
I adjusted myself on the bench to continue my analysis, which at this point was much more interesting than the fashion magazine. The abdomen was not overly sculpted, but it did not fail to rise in the stomach showing that the muscles were indeed very present. The smooth chest ended in strong shoulders full of subtle freckles and delineated biceps, occasionally covered with some inscription or drawing.
Tattoos. I've always had a weakness for tattooed men.
When I finally reached the man's face, I observed the sparse hair of his morning beard curving into a smile full of white and aligned teeth. The straight nose invited greater attention to the deep eyes that I could swear, despite the distance, were of an unusual and captivating blue. The male specimen that I was studying ended in a sequence of deliberately messy brown hair, which fell in some parts on his forehead.
When I bought that property, the real estate agent had told me, among many positive points, that it had some more benefits that could only be attested after actually establishing residence.
I had to admit to myself that she was undeniably right.
I regretted, however, only laying eyes on him at that moment. I couldn't decide on a favorite part of his whole being to appreciate again, all the magnificent physical attributes of the brunette fighting for my attention equally, to the point where I was almost pathetically drooling over the thin model in the magazine, which featured the latest spring-summer collection from Chanel that I, with absolute certainty, could not afford.
Shaking my head lightly, I remembered that my neighbor was smiling. Before I could ask myself the reason for the smile, whether it was at my expense or with me, he offered me the mug he had in his hands, as a greeting. I tried not to smile foolishly as I did the same with mine and quickly averted the sinful gaze I was casting on him to my thighs, greatly exposed by the sloppy shirt. The counter didn't hide me because it was open underneath, and I caught myself glancing at the neighbor once again before grabbing the edges of the fabric and pulling it down in an attempt to cover myself a bit. Not before noticing that his gaze was directed precisely in that direction.
I took a deep breath knowing that running to the bedroom to change was not an option as long as I had that possibility of sight and as long as I still suspected that the smile had been because I was caught watching. I wouldn't give him any more reason to laugh at me.
Although...
Well, he was also watching me. And no, it wasn't subtle at all. Even though I subtly tried to cover my body a little more, I could practically feel his eyes burning my exposed skin. So, well, screw it. I eyed him, he eyed me, we were even.
And with that thought giving me confidence, I got up from my seat and walked calmly and sinuously to my room, a part of the apartment he couldn't see, not forgetting to toss the magazine I had been reading into the trash.
–
"Hi, neighbor" a deep voice murmured softly behind me. I turned my head to look over my shoulder as James passed by me and walked to the other side of the shared laundry room of the buildings.
It had been a few days since the first time I saw him. I had discovered his name on an occasion when our mail came mixed up. You see, we lived in the same building, but in different blocks. That was reason enough for any less attentive mailman to confuse which envelope was meant for where. As soon as I realized that my supposed bills were all in the name of a certain "James Trancoso," I went down to the lobby prepared to leave them in front of my deliciously provocative neighbor's apartment, but I wasn't able to do so since he seemed to have encountered the problem at the same moment as me and was also coming towards my direction. We exchanged the mail in the lobby and went back to our respective homes. So, in summary, we now knew each other's names, but that didn't stop him from affectionately calling me neighbor whenever we bumped into each other in the common areas of the condo as if he couldn't call me Nicole.
"Hi, neighbor" I replied tediously, observing the damage the dryer had done to one of my favorite panties.
"Any plans for today? Maybe you need new lingerie..." he teased, intrusive and cheeky, bringing his laundry basket to sort near me.
"None of your business, but I have a sufficiently good collection of underwear" I retorted, choosing to stay silent about the first question, letting my lack of words answer for me.
"Oh, yeah? Perhaps someday you'll show them to me then" he added, smiling mischievously.
"Someday...?"
"Well, not today. Today I already have plans."
–
I was sprawled on my comfortable couch with my feet up, enjoying another lonely night in the company of old movies and popcorn. I wasn't feeling like going out lately; men seemed to be in a bad phase where they didn't understand the terms of a no-strings-attached relationship, and I avoided the drama like the devil avoids the cross. After all, I didn't believe in the sanctity of marriage, and above all, I valued someone who could give me pleasure, something that, in traditional relationships, was overshadowed or set aside because of petty arguments and silly jealousy. I definitely didn't have patience for that. So, until I felt motivated again to go out hunting or found a guy who could handle me in bed and out of it, I preferred to enjoy my private universe.
Except my universe had just been disturbed by the scene of my dear neighbor entering his apartment of opened curtains sensually kissing a dark-haired woman's neck.
While I was letting my thoughts fly high, my gaze was fixed at the window in front of me, and so I caught the couple's triumphant entrance. I had to say that the scene was undoubtedly more pleasant than the black and white film on my TV.
She ripped the black shirt he was wearing so quickly I kept wondering how could such thin arms have the strength to pull the tight fabric so fast if it was clinging to all those muscles, making the process harder. The thought couldn't be elaborated since now I got to observe that glorious bare chest.
As soon as that piece of clothing landed somewhere in the living room, James turned the woman roughly on her back and pressed his mouth to her ear, where he probably growed obscenities. She had her eyes closed, one of the hands above his shoulder, caressing his neck, and the other helped him squeeze her tits, still on top of the dress. My neighbors other hand reached for the zipper on the side, and finally the dress was falling to the ground passing the brunette slender legs.
I simply couldn't take my eyes off the scene. It was sexy, real, hot, and, most of all, forbidden. It was live porn, paired with the adrenaline of eventually getting caught. Too much temptation to be denied on such a calm and lonely Saturday night, like the one I intended to have.
And, because of that, I just… kept going.
I settled more comfortably on the couch, resigned to the fact that I would only be able to look away when the show was over.
The woman's tits weren't big, but that didn't stop James having fun with them, while he controlled her reactions by grabbing her hair. But it was only when he reached one hand between her thighs that I truly understood why I was holding on so much to the view.
I wanted to be there. I wished I was in her place, getting touched with all that sensuality. I wanted my moans to be heard by the entire condo, and even the entire block.
That was inevitable. The man was a piece of eye candy, and the two of them seemed to be thoroughly enjoying their make-out session in the living room.
Before I could keep torturing myself with the spectacle, I decided to turn off my TV so my place wouldn't be so illuminated.
He spread her legs after taking care of the panties and had one hand flickering her pussy while the other one was shoved in the woman's mouth, making her suck on two of his fingers. She did so willingly, although she was clearly panting from the restrained grunts of pleasure.
When he decided that the middle and ring fingers were sufficiently wet, James led the woman to the living room coffee table and laid her there. He spread her legs wide open and inserted his fingers into the girl's pussy. My vision was impaired, because although I had full access to James's body - facing me - I was unable to see exactly what was happening to the girl when her torso was raised, turning her back to my apartment. The mystery made me more intrigued by the scene, so I leaned further on the sofa and bit the back of my right index finger.
I could see my neighbor kick his pants to the side and bend over momentarily before the girl collapsed onto the table with her mouth open, where a deep moan must have escaped as he penetrated her with his huge hard cock.
And then his eyes were on mine.
James looked through the large window and directly met my frozen gaze. I was paralyzed, unable to look away, due not only to the sight, but also to the intensity of his blue eyes. He moved his hips skillfully, one hand squeezing the woman's tits as he pleased and the other holding the table for support. His eyes fixed on me.
The girl reached out to him, scratching his chest, which was now shiny due to the sweat that was beginning to break out, and distributed kisses across his neck and ears. He smiled sideways and bit his lips hard, until they turned white around his teeth.
He then came out of her and manipulated her until she had her breasts and belly on the table and her feet on the floor, spread apart to give him an opening. He placed one foot on the table and thrust hard again, then bringing his eyes back to mine and offering me a seductive wink. I settled down on the sofa, uncomfortable with the humidity that was beginning to run down my thighs, and tied my hair into an awkward bun, freeing the back of my neck from the sudden heat that hit me. The new position not only allowed James more agility and depth, but also the possibility of simply not taking his eyes off me, since the girl wouldn't notice, too busy panting with her face resting on the table.
He held her by the hips and made a crazy sequence of rapid thrusts, which made his abdomen contort with the effort, showing layers of worked buds, and drops of perspiration running down it. I started to press my legs together and move around the sofa in search of any kind of friction, unconsciously.
I lasted as long as I could, contemplating the scene. Until James parted his lips in some kind of exclamation of pleasure, and flared his nostrils, and I knew that what would follow would be an overwhelming orgasm. It wasn't until he involuntarily closed his eyes at their peak, breaking eye contact, that I left my living room, immediately entering the shower for a tempting and much, much needed encounter with the shower head.
–
New day, new life.
Yeah, not that much. The scenes from the night before simply haunted me all day, meaning I basically couldn't concentrate on the TV, on work, on my nails, on any games on my phone, on anything. I tried to masturbate to see if it would go away: I couldn't; I tried taking a cold shower: it didn't work; I tried to replace inertia with burning when going for a run: I kept thinking about him.
So there simply comes a point in a person's life when they decide to throw everything out there and turn on the fuck button. And that's exactly what happened to me around nine o'clock at night - the time when I knew James would already be home - when I took off all my clothes, put on the most sensual lingerie I could find in my closet, straightened my posture and walked calmly around my apartment.
Yeah, half naked.
People do that, right?
With open curtains too?
Well, then I just invented a trend.
How to explain...? I wanted to return the favor. Yes, that's the truth. Something like "Hey, James, you were very nice letting me peek into your privacy and now I'm going to let you look very closely at mine." Or, better than that, something like "you've got me excited and dying to have you in my bed, let's see if we can make you feel the same about me."
That's why I paraded. In the most sensual way possible, without bothering to check how he was looking at me, bending over to pick up the mail, tossing my hair from one side to the other, always slowly and delicately. I felt like I was in a surrealist porn film.
Then it occurred to me that the night before he had looked at me, while I was doing that whole unapproachable-I-don't-care-if-you're-drooling thing. This was unbalanced.
So I walked to the window and, while holding the curtain tightly with both hands, I allowed myself to look deep into my dear neighbor's eyes for a few minutes. He had his arms stretched out in his pants pockets, and was exactly one step away from the window, in total appreciation. I was able to follow the movement of his restless eyes and troubled throat, as if he had swallowed hard, before smiling provocatively and closing the curtains once and for all, blocking his view.
–
It was a different kind of Friday night. After an exhausting week, all I wanted was to enjoy that beautiful starry night with some ambient music and a good expensive wine. Life had these simple pleasures. I had, on top of that, closed a big contract at the company, which only made me more eager to celebrate. But going out didn't cross my mind, I wanted something more intimate, so to speak.
Sitting on the counter in front of the apartment's large window, I took small sips of the excellent red wine I had bought for that particular night. I looked at the moon, contemplative, until I noticed my hot neighbor taking a pack of cigarettes out of his pants and coming to the window too, apparently to get rid of a particularly difficult day. He appeared tired, all the while still looking tempting to me as smoke came out through the cracks in his lips and the filter was held carelessly between the fingers of his left hand.
He was left-handed. I loved left-handed men.
I greeted him with the glass as was our custom. He motioned for me to wait a second, and, after putting out his cigarette, he went to the kitchen, meddling with some things until he returned with a half-empty glass in his hands. I smiled, finding it funny that we were basically drinking wine together, albeit in different rooms, and pulled out a chair to actually sit in front of the window, like he did.
We stayed there for minutes on end, taking generous sips and sips of the alcohol involved, and with each new degree of disinhibition achieved, our gazes on each other's bodies became more obvious. More time consuming. More predators.
The level dropped quickly. And in my defense, he started it.
James passed his arm around his neck, as if to calm the tense muscles there, showing his deliciously contracted biceps. I had to bite my lip in response to the scene, and he reached down and squeezed his own thigh. I crossed and uncrossed my legs, suddenly restless.
He wet his lips and clenched his jaw with the significant rise that my skirt gave due to the movement. I thought the exciting game was fun, so I tightened my arms to highlight the neckline of the blouse.
My neighbor leaned in his chair toward the window, his eyes fixed on the exposed part of my breasts, and he undid two buttons on the light blue shirt he was wearing. I shook my head, smiling as I ran my fingers along the hem of my skirt, suggestively. He placed his on his crotch, right next to a suspicious bulge in his dark pants.
James's gaze met mine, pedantic, anxious, sexy. I returned the expectation and sensuality in the same tone. And in that last exchange of signals, he slipped his hand over his still covered erection and I opened my legs and squeezed one tit. It felt as if they were his hands there, willingly pressing the flesh into his fingers.
I felt myself gasping as I watched him move his hand suggestively up and down, then distributing energetic squeezes to the area, allowing me to see how big he really was.
Unable to bear the scene, I ran my nails along the inside of my thigh, finally placing a finger on the top of the pink cotton panties I was wearing, where I made slow circular movements that caused me immediate relief, before shouting that they were insufficient. The humidity in that area was already so high that I was surprised by my neighbor's ability to do so much with so little. I pressed the area a little harder, and I had to half-open my mouth for the air to come out, muffled, forcing my torso forward.
James stood up, glazed over, leaned against the window, fogging up the glass a little with his hot, ragged breath, never taking his hands out of his pants, never ceasing his ecstatic movements. A bead of sweat left the edge of his scalp and trailed down his thick neck and the opening of his shirt. I wanted to lick all that, but I had to settle for licking my own mouth.
Unable to take it any longer, he gestured if he could come to my apartment. I bit my lip, thoughtful and fearful, before pressing my thighs together and realizing that it was a sensible request for a necessary visit. I nodded, and waited, as he left his apartment in the blink of an eye.
There was only enough time for me to properly close the curtains and James knocked on the door. And then just another second before he was inside my apartment, my back pressing against the wood of the door and him on top of me.
He kissed me so thirstily that I swore that if they asked me my name seconds later it would take me a while to even understand the question. His hot and firm tongue curled around mine in unstoppable synchrony, in a sensual and engaging dance that slowly made me silence the voice that questioned me if this was right. His big hands moved from my waist, where they squeezed enthusiastically, passing by my hips, until they found my ass, which he began to caress lightly, denying me the pressure.
Oh, but he didn't have that much patience either.
With one finger, he moved the fabric of the collar of the shirt I wore until he could see the beginning of my pink lacy bra. He smiled in a joke of his own before distributing kisses and hickeys along the exposed curve of my tits, and then murmuring "I knew I'd see that lingerie one day" that made me bite my lip in disbelief.
I pushed James until he fell sitting on the sofa, and as soon as I ripped my shirt off my body, I moved onto his lap, sitting with one leg on either side of his hips. He curled his lip, amazed at my attitude, ran his palms over the entire contour of my naked torso and started licking and biting my neck and the back of my head, while I tentatively opened his belt and pants.
It was like we were desperate for each other. As if ever since we met, that was an incubated desire, desperate to come true. And, despite the rush, everything indicated that reality did not compare to what we wanted: It was better still.
His shirt joined mine in some unknown part of the room, and James helped me push his pants down to his knees, where he took it upon himself to get rid of them. I could then sit directly on his monstrous erection, which fit perfectly along my vagina, teasing all her sensitive spots. Bigger than any man I'd been with, without a doubt, which meant I'd have to rely on friction to be wet enough to not hurt myself.
Not that that was a problem. James's kisses continued to cover every piece of skin from my chest to my ear, and his hands were now squeezing my thighs, drawing abstract things on my waist, urging my body to scream "enough!" and my excitement to run down my legs.
His heat beneath me was an added aphrodisiac, and I found myself rolling restlessly in place, wanting to feel him better. But this was not an inexperienced man, and he soon noticed my barely disguised intentions and, with a fervent hand holding each side of my ass to spread me wider, coordinated the movements by pushing me back and forth on his lap, massaging his pulsating cock, and satisfying the unbearable itch that had established itself in my clit.
So good, that I had to dig my nails into the back of his neck to control the muffled scream that begged to come out. We joined our foreheads, still enjoying the delicious pressure, and I noticed that his lip was trapped tightly between his teeth, turning white around the edges again. That seemed to be his habit. I ran a finger there, forcing him to let go: I wanted to do that for him. I sucked and bit the soft flesh as much as I could.
My skirt at this point was completely out of the way, hiked up to my waist. The panties had become an additional element, since the cotton was almost completely inserted into my vagina, as a result of James's movements. The bra, I noticed, was loose in an obvious way, indicating that he had unhooked it without me even noticing.
My neighbor adjusted himself better on the sofa, and if he had asked me at the time I probably would have responded by shouting obscenities, but it seemed that the new position left the head of his cock exactly on top of my sensitive spot, my clit, which he was beating with pleasure making me completely lose my mind.
In an instant, I didn't know where the bra had ended up, or why I had his manhood between my hands.
James cupped my tits with his hands in a contemplative tone, and fell into his mouth without waiting for permission, swallowing large chunks of flesh and skin, in hungry hickeys, making me crazy.
I had formed a ring with my fingers, and was running his erection from top to bottom, feeling all the innervations rise and vibrate with my touch, revealing his desperation for release.
With one nipple in his mouth and the other between the strong grip of his fingers, James moaned with pleasure and the reverberation of his sensual voice shook my nipples, making them harder and more desperate for his saliva. The entire man was a particular sin, that caused reactions in me just by breathing.
I stopped caressing the area around the handjob and moved my free hand up to explore the wonderfully defined muscles of his torso. The deep, well-defined entrances, the tense abdomen, the chest strong as steel, the broad shoulders and the shaped arms.
He raised his head in a growl and our eyes met, full of naughty and tempting promises. My panties were moved to the side, and they were no longer a hindrance. He ran two fingers through my wetness, rubbing eagerly until they were excessively smeared, and brought them to his own lips, sucking as if it were the best flavor he had ever tasted. I left my tongue on my lip, excited, and he offered them to me too, which I took advantage of to take the entire length, in a clear and effective provocation.
James shook his head, as if saying that I had no sense of danger, and grabbed his cock by the base, lightly tapping it on my groin. I found a way to hold onto his shoulders better, prepared for what I knew was coming, and that it would be stupendous.
He dipped his head in my juice, spreading our liquids along the length, while I opened the condom that he had strategically left on the sofa next to us when we removed our clothes. Once secured, he pushed against my hole, a steady arm helping me stay upright on my knees. Then, little by little, he lowered me, piercing my flesh with his throbbing sex. He felt so big inside me when I was sitting down, that he reached almost to the wall of the uterus.
We sighed together with satisfaction and began to move. I went up and down, sometimes I wiggled my ass all over the place, forcing him to massage every possible point inside me, and he had an impossible movement with his hips that made me want to stick my nails in there and ask him to stop before I were to cum in two minutes of play.
That position was not about speed, but about sensation and connection. So we took the opportunity to kiss and moan in each other's ears, while we felt so inside each other that it was almost shameful.
I had already noticed that he had this habit, where he needed to have something in his mouth to moan. Which means every time he did it, my neck, ear or mouth was buried between his lips, and that made everything more interesting.
James tried to slide a hand between our bodies to caress my swollen clit with two fingers, and I mentally thanked him for the effort that would bring me immediate relief. But the proximity got in the way, and he didn't wait before he stopped moving and got up with me still attached to him. He turned his body and skillfully threw me onto the sofa, lifting one of my legs by the ankle and thrusting again, now faster and stronger with me spread out.
Kneeling, James had much more stability to penetrate the way he wanted, and this allowed me to prove that he was a damn walking vibrator. Stimulating each point, moving in and out with absolute frenzy, and even with his big hand distributing concentric circles on my grill to the point of exploding.
I didn't last long. It was inevitable that I was to pour myself into him, feeling so many stimuli together and with such intensity. I held back the orgasm for as long as I could, contracting my inner walls around him, so that with a relieved roar, he also let go, filling the condom with his hot cum, which I wanted to taste in large sips.
James fell on top of me, his head between my breasts, breathing heavily. His hands were squeezing my waist fiercely, and despite my tiredness, I couldn't deny myself a caress for his wild hair. We fell asleep there, still stuck together and sweaty, but undoubtedly satisfied.
A single thought in mind: The eagerness of repeating everything as many times as we could. The delicious provocations that would become even more frequent, the more than proven compatibility between our physiques, and the ease with which we could be in each other's apartment, played in our favor.
After all, we were neighbors.
But not any mere nearby residents.
Neighbors with benefits.