The Man Next Doorbylysander815©
Celia always came home from work exhausted, and today was no exception. It was hot out, almost a hundred degrees, and the thick suit that she had to wear to work felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. She felt the sweat drip down her neck. Why did she move to D.C.? The summer heat was unbearable, and the law firm she worked for required business wear at all times. No casual Friday's, no business casual. Jackets all day, every day. As she pulled the car into the driveway of her row house, she instantly noticed that something was different. There wasn't a moving van, but several boxes were stacked by the front door of the house to the left of the one she shared with her boyfriend. It had been empty for months. The woman who owned it had retired and moved last year, and Celia was hoping that it would never be sold. The woman had played music constantly, and kept the TV at full volumes. The walls were paper thin, and even though Celia's bedroom wall shared a wall with the master bedroom next door, the room seemed to be constantly filled with noise. The woman, Celia concluded, must sleep with the television on.
There was a car parked in the driveway next door, a big van with a couple of dents in the side. The back doors were open, but there was no one in sight. She pulled the key out of the ignition and got out of the car. She walked over to her garage door and stood on the tips of her toes to see inside. There was a green sedan parked there. Again, Duncan had beaten her home.
Celia had worn a skirt today, but it hadn't been much better. Her stockings kept creeping down her leg, and she thought she might have spent an hour that day sneaking off to the bathroom to rearrange her clothes. In the car, she had immediately stripped them off and tossed them in the trash. They were so damp with sweat that they grossed her out; she would never wear them again. She also unbuttoned the top two buttons on her blouse. She hated the shirts they made her wear, and so did every woman in the office with a large bust. Celia was a D-cup, a bit on the large side. She constantly struggled with shirts, and always felt like her breasts were straining like a madman trying to get out of a straightjacket. With a few of the top buttons undone on her white blouse, she felt free. She had pointed one of the air conditioning vents directly at her breasts, and felt a wave of relaxation come over her as the cold air blew down her shirt. She briefly wished she could slip her skirt off while she was driving, and as she began to fidget with the button on her waist, a large truck pulled up next to her. She looked up, and saw a man in the passenger's seat look down at her. Taking off her skirt was probably not a good idea.
She looked over to the house next door, and naturally wondered who her new neighbors were. It probably wasn't a family; most couples eventually moved out of the neighborhood when they started having kids. There wasn't really anywhere for young children to run around, and it also wasn't the safest street in the city. Maybe it was a young couple like her and Duncan, or a single career-woman who had started making enough money to live outside the city. She hoped and prayed for it to be someone her age. There was almost no one in the neighborhood in their twenties, and Celia desperately wanted friends in the neighborhood. She put her purse and briefcase by her front door and kicked off her heels. She walked across the small lawn between the two houses, taking her time to let the cool grass work its way between her toes. She crept over to the large van with its back doors opened. She looked around quickly and, seeing no one, she ducked behind the van and looked inside.
Everything looked a little beat up. Piled on top of an old love seat were several cardboard boxed, labeled "kitchen", "bedroom", "second bedroom", and so on. She stood on her toes and craned her neck to see what was behind them. It looked like enough stuff for one person, but definitely a man. Everything was too dirty and disorganized for it to belong to a girl.
"See anything you like?" came a voice from behind her. She jumped, and then spun around so fast that she almost lost her balance.
What she saw was not at all what she had expected. Standing between the van and the front door of the house was a shirtless man in his thirties. He was tall, and Celia couldn't help but see his chiseled torso. The man had muscles in places that Celia didn't even know men could have muscles. He had a six-pack that was almost nearly an eight-pack, and his jeans hung so low on his waist that she could see the top of a thick black tuft of pubic hair. And his arms. She looked at his arms, with biceps that were probably too thick for her to wrap both of her hands around. Her stomach began to flutter, and before she knew how much time had passed, the man spoke again.
"Can I help you?" he said, looking her up and down. His shocking blue eyes seemed to pierce her, and she took a step back. Finally drawn to his square-jawed, stubble-covered face, she focused on a spot on his forehead and replied.
"Sorry," she said. "I was just curious."
"Curious, huh?" he said, taking step to close the distance between them. Celia found that she was backed against the van.
"This house has been empty for a while. I was wondering when someone would move in," she responded. He raised an eyebrow.
"So you live around here?" the man said. He took another half-step forward. He was much taller than she originally thought, and she found that she was looking down at her. She realized that her top was wide open, exposing get cleavage and possibly the edges of her bra.
"Next door," she choked out.
"Nice," he said. "I was hoping there would be some cool people around here."
"How do you know that I'm cool?" she said. She pushed her hair out of her face. The man took another step forward. He was about arms-length away now. Her eyes flicked down to his body again. He was glistening with sweat. Celia felt her arm pulled up like a magnet, toward his hard chest. She restrained herself.
"You look cool," the man replied. She saw his eyes make the same up and down motion, raking her body up and down.
"My," she stuttered. "My name is Celia."
"Tucker," he said. He stuck out his hand. She looked at it for a second, before realizing that she was supposed to shake it. She did.
"Where are you moving from, Tucker?" she asked. She let the name sit on her lips for a minute before pushing it out.
"Miami," he said. He pointed at the bumper of the van, which had a Florida license plate bolted to it.
"Hence the tan," she said.
"Hence the tan," he echoed. "Say, I could use a hand, if you don't mind. All the furniture is ready to be arranged inside, but I could use a woman's perspective."
"Oh, sorry," she said. "I should probably get inside. I need a shower."
"You look fine to me," Tucker replied.
"I feel pretty gross," replied Celia. "These clothes have been making me sweat all day."
"Well, just come inside and tell me what you think about the furniture," Tucker said. "Then you can get undressed."
Celia felt her eyes widen.
"Um," she said. That was all she could get out.
"Well, what about a drink tonight? I'm new in town, and I'd love it if you could show me around," Tucker suggested. Celia entertained the idea for a moment, and then came to her senses.
"Friday nights are usually kind of a date night with my boyfriend," she said.
"So you have a boyfriend?" Tucker asked. Celia nodded.
"Well, he's not around right now, is he?" Tucker asked. "You could just come inside for a second."
Celia wondered how he could be so brazen. But then again, a man who looked like that was probably used to getting his way. She thought about it for a moment, but then decided against it. This was not a man to be trusted. When she came to, she found him looking at the exposed tops of her breasts.
"Maybe some other time," she said. "I should get going."
Celia ducked around him, and made her way toward her own front door.
"I'll see you around, Celia," Tucker said, turning to watch her go. She could feel his bright eyes following her, drifting from her bare feet, up her smooth calves, resting on her round bottom. She felt hot blood rush to her face, and knew that her skin was turning red.
Duncan greeted her with a hug when she walked into the kitchen. She looked at him and, as usual, felt calmed. He was still in his clothes from work; a short sleeve button down and a tie, with black dress pants.
"Showing off, huh?" he said, looking at her unbuttoned shirt.
"My car was like an oven. You know how I sweat," she replied. She kissed him on the cheek, and then turned to go to their bedroom upstairs. Her mind flashed back to the man next door. She turned.
"Did you talk to the people moving in next door?" she asked.
"I think it's just one guy," Duncan said. He was back at the stove, swirling something around in a wok.
"Really?" she asked. She felt that it would be best if she just forgot about the encounter moments ago. Then she felt weird about not wanting to think about it.
"I saw him moving some stuff when I got in," he answered. "I asked him if he wanted help, but he said he's got it covered."
"You talked to him? What's he like?" Celia asked.
"He was kind of an asshole, actually," Duncan explained. "He kind of made it seem like I wouldn't be able to help him."
"That's weird," Celia said.
"Whatever," said Duncan. "Maybe we'll take him out sometime."
"Maybe," Celia agreed.
"Dinner should be ready in ten," Duncan said as she began to climb the stairs.
The second floor was mostly bedroom. The stairs came up into a small hallway, with the master bedroom on one side and a bathroom on the other. Celia walked into the bedroom, and closed the door behind her. It was as unspoken agreement between her and Duncan that when the door was closed, you should wait five minutes and come back and try again. They had been dating for nearly three years, but there were times that they definitely needed their privacy. She closed the door and immediately shucked off her thick work clothes. She hung them up in the walk-in closet; after today, she would definitely have to get it dry-cleaned. She stepped back into the bedroom and looked at herself in the full-length mirror in the corner.
Celia had managed to keep the same body she'd had since she was seventeen. At five-six she wasn't tall, but still stood above most women in her office, especially with heels on. She bobbed up and down on the balls of her feet, trying to work out the pain that came with wearing heels nine hours a day all week. Her legs were long and shapely, not too skinny but sculpted by years of running. Her figure was a slight hourglass, and her stomach was tight. She looked at her face, and smiled. Celia had always been beautiful. High cheek-bones and a soft chin were a perfect combination, topped off with a set of almond-shaped green eyes and plump, soft lips. Her head was framed by a curtain of blonde hair, which she kept in excellent condition with constant combing and conditioner. She ran her hands up her body, and they came to rest on her large breasts. They didn't sit as high on her chest as they used to, but they hadn't begun to sag either. She squeezed them gently, and found that her nipples were growing hard. Normally she would wait; Duncan would probably want to fool around after dinner. But, after all, dinner wouldn't be ready for ten minutes.
Celia laid down on the bed, and reached under the bed. She hadn't masturbated for a while, mostly because Duncan was good about satisfying her. He was very giving, and loved to go down on her. She pulled up a small lockbox, let it rest on her stomach, and opened it. She pulled out a long silicone dildo, shaped like a realistic cock. She put the box on the bed, and reached down. She slowly began to massage her lips with her fingers, running her hand through the small patch of pubic hair above her pussy. She felt herself getting wet, and she dipped a finger inside her cunt. When she pulled it out, it was glistening. Celia began to tease her clit, sending tiny tremors of pleasure through her. She was definitely wet now.
Celia's mind flashed to the man next door. He had called himself Tucker, right? She thought about the way he had looked at her, the way his muscles had moved when he crossed his arms. She thought about the lines of his abs, the way he must be able to pleasure a woman. She thought about watching his abs as he fucked her, sliding his cock in and out of her while she ran her hands across her chest. Before she knew it she was working the dildo inside her, feeling the large head of the cock slip into her pussy. She pushed it in deeper, feeling it open her up as the shaft vanished inch by inch. It was a large dildo, much larger than Duncan's cock. She had been given it as a gag by one of her friends, but she found that she liked the way it made her feel. Duncan had never been able to fill her, but this dildo was nice for times when she found him to be inadequate. He was only five inches. She wondered how big Tucker was, if he could make her feel like the dildo was making her feel now. She felt the pleasure mounting as she fucked herself with the dildo faster and faster. She couldn't help but imagine that it was Tucker's cock, hard as a rock, sinking inside her, colliding with her g-spot in shockwaves of pleasure. She felt the pressure building now, and she was fucking herself faster than she ever had before. Both of her hands were wrapped around the end of the dildo, and she could feel herself about to come.
There was a knock at the door.
"Honey?" Duncan said. "Dinner's ready."
She was so startled that she dropped the dildo. It fell out of her, and rolled onto the floor. She was still breathing heavily, but she had lost it. There was no way she was going to come now. She was quiet for a moment, letting her heartbeat slow.
"I'll be right down," Celia said with a sigh.
"Dinner was great," Celia said, sliding closer to Duncan on the couch. They were both in their pajamas, with the TV on low. Celia could feel herself fading. It had been a long day, and it was almost eleven.
"Thanks," he replied. "You know I love cooking for you."
"You're such a sweetheart," Celia replied. She put a hand on Duncan's thigh, and massaged it slowly. He placed his hand on top of hers.
"You know, it's still early," Duncan said. He turned away from the TV to look at her.
"I know," she said. She leaned toward him and kissed him. He put his arms around her.
"I want you," he said. "Right here."
She smiled, but more at his attempt at being aggressive than the thought of sex on the couch. He was rarely the aggressive one, and both of them would agree that she was the top in the relationship.
"No," Celia said. "Let's go upstairs."
"Whatever you say, darling," he said. He took her hand and pulled her up from the couch. Moments later they were upstairs with the lights dimmed in their bedroom, and Duncan was aggressively pulling at Celia's clothes.
"Down, boy," she said, grabbing his wrists. "Just sit down on the bed."
Duncan nodded, and Celia pushed him down onto the queen-size.
"Stay," she said, and she ducked into the walk-in closet. She closed the door behind her.
Celia felt the same excitement rise in her that had risen in her when she had been outside talking to Tucker. She wanted to be wanted. She wanted Duncan to tear her clothes off and hold her down and fuck her, an action that in three years he had never shown evidence of being capable of. For once, she wanted to be taken, not have to throw Duncan onto the bed and climb on his average cock. She would usually ride him for a few minutes, and then switch to missionary. Duncan liked to look her in the eyes when they slept together; he said it was more romantic that way. If she was lucky, Celia would be able to have an orgasm during foreplay, when Duncan went down on her. At least he was good at that, she thought. She would make him do it tonight. She needed to come, and she would be damned if Duncan's gentle lovemaking would get in her way. Tonight, Duncan would eat her out, and then he would bend her over the bed or the dresser and take her from behind. She wanted to feel someone slamming up against her, wanted to feel a dick bottoming out in her pussy. Celia would tease him, edging him with a blowjob until he couldn't take it anymore. But first, he would go down on her. As she started to get changed into a silky black negligee, she noticed that she was already getting wet.
Celia emerged from the closet a couple minutes later, dressed in the black negligee and a pair of patent leather heels. They were tall and black, and as she looked at herself in the mirror she noticed that they made her ass look fantastic. She ran her hand over it, feeling the smooth skin on her small but round behind. Duncan looked at her while she caressed herself. He was already naked, his long body stretched out across the bed. Celia had to admit that Duncan, while attractive, was not exactly her type. He was skinny, but instead of toned muscles he had a soft flabby stomach and chest. His legs and arms were long, and covered with light hair. His cock flopped lazily to the side, only about an inch long in its flaccid state.
"I want you to eat me out," Celia said. "Got it?"
"Anything you say, honey," Duncan replied.
"Move," Celia said, and she sashayed toward the bed. Duncan rolled onto the floor, and moved to the end of the bed so Celia could lie down. She planted her butt near the edge, and stretched her arms far above her head. No sooner did she get comfortable than she found Duncan between her legs, gently rubbing the insides of her thighs. He helped her spread her legs, and he began to work. She was glad Duncan had a talented tongue. He started in the fleshy spot between her labia and thigh, kissing it and running his tongue in circles. He worked one side and then the other, holding Celia's legs open the entire time. She sighed with pleasure as Duncan kissed her pussy and then slid his tongue inside, licking the entire length of her cunt up and down. This made her twitch, and involuntary spasm that raced through her body. He licked her like that several times, making sure she was wet before he continued. Celia let out a moan when he slid a finger inside her, and then another, slowly penetrating her and pushing up on her g-spot. Celia pushed down the negligee and pinched her nipples, making the tiny pink nubs rise quickly. Then Duncan found her clitoris, and she silently praised his skill.
"You like that?" Duncan said between quick flicks of the tiny button.
"Oh, baby," she replied. "You know I do."
Duncan's speed increased, and she found herself approaching orgasm for the second time that evening. Celia almost never cried out, but she began taking short, deep breaths, and she saw her breasts heaving as Duncan brought her closer and closer to climax. Her legs were in the air, spread open as Duncan went down on her. He was fingering her faster now, his lips wrapped around her engorged clit. It felt incredible. The sensation of having he clit licked and g-spot rubbed was too much to bear. She would come any second now.
Celia heard a moan that snapped her out of her erotic trance. It was followed quickly by another, and then a third. She looked from side to side, trying to trace the source of the noise. Duncan hadn't made it; his mouth was buried between her legs.
"Oh fuck," someone shouted, preceding another series of moans.
"Did you hear that?" Celia said, pushing herself up with her arms. Duncan looked up.
"Hear what?" he said. He moved back down to her pussy, and began sucking on her clit again. Celia placed a hand on his forehead and pushed him away.