The Neighbours by A.j

A literotic sexstories: The Neighbours by A.j ,

here is a go at the male side of my mind lol, im good like that…..

Thinking back, it wasn’t that cold, was it?

I’d scraped the frost off the inside of the front window and saw the tall, slender woman struggling with the box. She was moving in next door. I didn’t get much of a look at her. The frost, you see. That and that massive coat she was wearing.

But she looked sexy enough for me to get off my ass and venture out into the snow to help her.

“Moving in, I see.”

She looked at me with that boy-are-you-stupid stare and sat the box down on the icy front step that led to the little two-bedroom bungalow that had sat empty since October when old Granny Watkins decided, probably against her will, to join that bridge foursome in heaven.

I tried to smile through my chattering teeth, deciding any neighbor was better than nothing and that this one, if I used any brains at all, would be far better than anything else on the block. “Need some help?” I muttered. “If so, I gotta go back in and get a coat.”

The sexy one mentally flipped me off. “If you’d planned to help, why didn’t you wear a coat in the first place?”

Rather than debate her, I ran back indoors, found my old wool coat and emerged, eager to prove I wasn’t a complete idiot. I slipped on the ice and fell flat on my ass.

She laughed.

As the weeks went on, I saw less and less of her, occasionally glimpsing out when I heard a car door. Sometimes, I’d see her leaving. At other times, somebody was coming to visit, usually one particular woman. We didn’t communicate.

As the weather warmed, I’d see the sexy one leave the house dressed in tight jeans and a jacket. She had a perfect ass and I couldn’t wait until spring when – I hoped – she’d start wearing something a little more revealing.

One day in particular, I daydreamed about that and sat at the window, watching her clean the inside of her car. I think it took me four, perhaps five minutes to get my nuts off. I grin in the mirror when I think what she would have thought if she’d known I was sitting on the edge of the couch, jacking off while she wiggled that tight ass in front of me.

I often wonder if women realize they’re having that effect on men. Sure, women know guys jerk off but it’s to that naked blonde in the magazine, not a real woman.

Sexy Neighbor was magazine quality, whether she realized it or not.

As April came and went, I spent a little more time outdoors and, through the course of events, had the opportunity to even say hello to her. She had one of those deep voices, real sexy É the kind that would make you hard if she whispered in your ear: “I gotta sneeze.”

Then came the day the Buick pulled into her driveway. A day later, it was still there. A week later, still there. It belonged to that particular woman I’d seen off and on in January.

Spring being what it is, you’ll get that occasional thunderstorm. As fortune would have it, a boomer struck one night and separated our wiring from the transformer. I sat there in the dark, waiting for the lights to come back on when the knock at the door brought me to my senses.

It was Sexy. “You got lights?”

My turn. “Yeah, I just don’t like to use them much at night.” I invited her in, held the flashlight so she wouldn’t trip over my newly acquired old ottoman and told her she could sit anywhere.

“Sarah and I are a little frightened of the dark,” she told me in that deep, damn-I-wanna-fuck-you voice.

“I guess nightfall is a bitch,” I said, waving the flashlight at the ceiling before deciding whether to entertain her with shadow rabbits.

“By the way, I’m Lois.”

“I’m Jay. Have we met?”

“Would you like to come over?” She stood and ran her hands through her hair. “We’d feel better if somebody else was around.”

Since Lois hadn’t been overly friendly in the five months we’d been neighbors, I tried to focus on the images: A plain old thunderstorm, a not-so-rare power outage and two adult women, afraid of the dark. “Is it safe?”

“Safe for what?” Her voice had a little quiver in it, which made it seem sexier than ever.

“You ain’t gonna tie me up in the cellar, are you?” I shined the flashlight in her face and she turned her head away.

“Men are such assholes.”

“Maybe, but we ain’t afraid of the dark. I bet Sarah sent you over for sugar and you forgot to ask how much. That means you’re stallin’ for time. OK, I’ll come over till the lights come back on. See if you can feel around there for my sneakers.”

“Which direction?”

“To the right, I think. Sniff around.. They’re old.”

She found the sneakers, flipped them in my direction and headed for the door. I held the flashlight for her. She thanked me.

Nice girl.

We waited out the emergency, chatted awhile about our jobs and long-term objectives should we get lucky enough to win the lottery É and decided to become better neighbors.

It’s important to remember that when neighbors vow to become better neighbors, they usually have their fingers crossed behind their backs. Better safe than stupid.

But it worked. I said hello to Lois every day and waved to Sarah every evening. Lois began to wear tight shorts and tee shirts and she was pretty good about letting me stare at her. Sarah, always the practical one, just went braless every afternoon. Did I mention she had big knockers? She was a little shorter than Lois, about five-two, and kept her blonde hair cut short.

Lois, the brunette, was naturally curly. I wondered if that was an all-over thing. Hey, a guy wonders É.

As summer wore on, I helped the women with their lawn work, gave them tips on which tampon was the most effective and made plans for the big event of the season.

They’d invited me to a cookout.

I pondered catsup brands, ribbed-versus-smooth condoms and charcoal É and waited for Saturday evening. It had been a soggy summer and the mosquitoes sucked. As the day wore on, I wondered if Lois sucked and, if not, whether Sarah did. We had only discussed sex in long poetic verse, and never once did I blurt out: Would either of you girls like to give me a blow job?

Of course, I am the guy who fell on his ass trying to help Lois with a box full of dishes.

I didn’t know Lois and Sarah were lesbians.

“We’re lesbians,” Sarah said after dinner.

I nodded. Men know about lesbians, read about them and sometimes hear them on television talk shows. Nobody lives next door to them. I’m still a little fuzzy about how the topic even came up in our post-dinner chat, and I’m sure it had nothing to do with my constant staring at Sarah’s incredible tits. Lois may have given Sarah a hint when she noticed I was eating her out with my eyes while she did the dishes.

I decided to get to the heart of the matter. “I always said I’d like to have a lesbian for a girlfriend,” I said over my can of beer.

Sarah laughed. “Men are such assholes,” she giggled to Lois, who nodded and joined us at the table.

“That’s not why you’re lesbians, is it?” I asked.

Lois kicked me in the shins from under the table.

And that’s when our friendship began.

Curiously, the topic of their sexuality didn’t come up again despite our regular conversations and frequent trips to the mall and to the grocery. Me, at the mall?

Hey, I felt honored to be in their company and, knowing neither of them would fall for me, grew comfortable in the notion that neither would break my heart, drain my bank account or ask me to wash the kitchen windows. Two out of three ain’t bad. I did help them with the windows.

As the relationship grew, I found I was more comfortable in their company than I was with Jill, my part-time fuck. Better yet, Sarah and Lois grew to know me as a friend, not an asshole. We began to relate.

We did turnabout at Halloween. I dressed as a woman. If I were one, I’d become a man, just to avoid pantyhose.

And as winter set in, I made a down payment on a couple of nice diamond pendants.

On New Year’s Eve, we gathered for a toast and as midnight neared, I felt better about myself than I had in years. I sat there on the couch, staring at the Christmas tree, listening to the wind howl outside and wondering É I had a passing thought about Jill É wondering who she was screwing this night.

“Have you ever thought about É what it’s like?” Lois said over the soft Christmas music. That sexy voice sounded so sweet. At times, I tried to forget her relationship with Sarah, wishing I had her all to myself, listening to her coo in my ear.

“About what?” I came back to reality.

“What Sarah and I do?”

I shook my head. Maybe I was an asshole, after all. “Do what? Like, as in É”

“Sex.”

“Yeah, that. Well, I guess you just do what you can with what you have available.” I’d never actually seen Lois and Sarah making out with each other, though they’d hold hands at times, hug once in awhile and tickle each other. They didn’t grope. They were both in their thirties, so I presumed they had decided to act like adults.

“Would you like to watch?” Lois asked me. Her dark eyes pierced through me.

I could tell she was serious and I think I swallowed my teeth. “What am I supposed to say? Like, put on a show for me, girls?”

Lois motioned Sarah into the room. “Would you like to watch Sarah and I make love to each other? You have to be wondering.”

I shrugged. My hearbeat quickened. I guess I had been, but since I never expected to be given a performance, I’d left that up to them. I mean, a woman licks another woman’s pussy and that’s it, right? Or she uses a tool of some kind, or her finger. “Now that you mention it,” I said, “I have.” Hell, what else was I going to say? I really did want to see them do each other. I may be an asshole, but I am not a fool.

Sarah slid onto Lois’s lap and delivered a monster kiss on the lips.

Lois put her hand on Sarah’s incredible tits and started stroking them. Then she put a hand in Sarah’s crotch.

Sarah sat back and sighed.

I slid onto the floor and let them have the couch.

Lois slid a hand up under Sarah’s blouse and jiggled away at her lover’s tits. Finally, Sarah slid out of the blouse and rammed her boobs into Lois’s face.

I felt my mouth go dry. So far, a good huggy-bear, kissy-tit performance, but nothing X-rated.

Until Lois slid onto the floor, onto her knees between Sarah’s legs and slid Sarah’s skirt up around her waist.

I was glad Sarah wasn’t wearing panties because the show started almost immediately.

How Sarah was able to get her legs up over Lois’s shoulders is a mystery, but she was so adroit that I barely noticed it had happened.

Sarah made indescribably sexy sounds as Lois, apparently adept at finding her sweet spot, just made it happen.

I fixed my eyes on Sarah. The almost torrid passion in her facial expression told me this was genuine lovemaking, not just a girl eating a pussy. Sarah had yielded completely to Lois. She was absorbing the moment. She was lost in a kind of sexuality a guy only imagines can happen to a woman.

I don’t think a guy can pull that off.

I never did, even though Jill moaned a lot when we screwed.

I just sat there, rocking back and forth, savoring this experience. I think I lost my breath when Sarah reached her climax.

“Wow,” I said.

Lois turned to me. “I won’t ask you how you feel.”

“I won’t tell you,” I said. “And I am not about to ask Sarah anything right now.”

Sarah just groaned.

“I guess I have to wonder what happens to you now,” I said to Lois.

She smiled. “What makes you think something didn’t?”

I moved my feet around on the floor, probing my mind for some rational response. “I guess I just assumed you’d have Sarah do that to you.”

Lois giggled and tapped me on the wrist. “That’s the problem with men. They aren’t in touch with themselves.”

I laughed. “No, men mostly just get up, get in, get off and get going.”

Sarah muttered something about getting off, and I tried to sympathize with her. She seemed so worn, so frazzled.

I gave the moment its due respect, got up off the floor and went to my coat. I brought out the diamond pendants.

Lois stood and gave me a kiss on the cheek. Sarah sat up and worked her way to her feet. She gave me a kiss on the other cheek.

I slid across the snowy front lawn, back to my own little house, the one with the frosty front window. As New Year’s Day dragged on, I wondered: Are those real roses on that float?

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