A Cup Of Sugar

It really wasn't supposed to go this far. I had plenty of libido and it had all started out as some stress relief and some cheap thrills.

Now, here I was on my back, dripping wet while my neighbor's cock sawed in and out of my pussy. I had a boyfriend, who wasn't my neighbor, and we were supposed to meet half an hour earlier to continue our conversation about moving in together. Instead I was giving it up to some other guy I hadn't even known three days earlier. Just as the thought of how much of a cheap, easy slut I was being went through my mind, I began to come.

I lived on the courtyard side of my building. When I'd first moved in, I wondered what sort of people lived in this building. It was mostly studios and 1-bedrooms with rents almost twice as high as mortgages on 3-bedroom houses with only a slightly longer drive out of town. They were definitely luxury apartments and I realized quickly that the single folks living there made a lot of money.

For the price, I expected privacy and neighbors who followed the rules. The privacy made me feel comfortable walking around in my apartment in various states of undress. I didn't have to think about what I was wearing, who would be watching or whether the blinds were closed.

And that's how it went one Friday evening after work. The day had been difficult, I'd closed a big account and my client was easy on the eyes. Two drinks with my co-workers after work had gotten me three unsolicited napkin phone numbers. Everything that day seemed to line up towards getting me aroused so I didn't even get a chance to pour myself a drink. I just plopped down on the couch and kicked off my shoes. I wasn't even lying there for a minute before my hand slipped under my waistband and into my panties. I'd worn the tiniest little g-string thong that day and it gave way to my hand without putting up a fight.

With a day like that, I didn't even need to lick my fingers. One quick dip of my finger between my lower lips and my clit was slippery enough to go to town. It didn't take long either and the whole front and bottom of my thong was soaked by the time I was done. Everything ended with a fair bit of noise and some thrashing.

Then I opened my eyes and saw him. He was across the courtyard, on his balcony, one floor higher. It was far enough that I'm sure he couldn't tell who I was but I'm sure he got a great show. He didn't try to cover up the fact that he could see, either. My eyes met his and he smiled. No lewd gestures or facial expressions, just a sweet, sly smile to thank me without words, for sharing that with him.

I hadn't intended to share it with anyone. I hadn't intended much by it, really. I just wanted a little release, which sometimes calmed me down. This definitely didn't and when I saw that I had a voyeur, my arousal went pretty much through the roof. I'd called my boyfriend later, going over to his place and fucking his brains out all night long, and all of the next day. As I recall, I didn't even pay attention to his begging for mercy until some time Sunday morning when we finally left his place to go to brunch.

I don't know what had made me think that would be an isolated incident. I never paid attention to what I was wearing or doing in my apartment, at least not with an eye towards keeping it concealed. I'd put an extra upholstered chair and lots of pillows in my bedroom because I knew I was loud during good sex. Heck, sometimes I was loud during mediocre sex too. And if it was really bad, sometimes I'd make a lot of noise with the hopes the guy would leave right away after. But that was noise. I didn't think about what anyone could see.

I'd also been with my boyfriend for almost a year now. He was a great guy and the sex was good or better, but monogamy was a choke point for getting laid. Before him, I'd averaged about an hour at the bar down the street, as the amount of time it took me to find someone I was comfortable enough with to take home and fuck. It was easy enough to get home from work go for a little run, shower, eat something, and on the days I was horny, go out and find someone. Almost guaranteed, I could be on my back, in my bed or on my couch, let him have his way, get off a couple times, and have him out the door before bedtime. The best looking, sweetest and most skilled ones got to stay with a good-morning blowjob in the morning.

When that option became breaking a promise, my hands had to do a lot of the work. I had some toys but I hadn't even gotten my first vibrator until I was older and getting myself off by hand was easy and reliable for years. I never felt like it was a big deal and I rarely thought twice about masturbating anytime the mood struck me, assuming there was nothing preventing it. Since work always prevented it, nights that I wasn't with my boyfriend often started with an orgasm shortly after I got home alone.

So I guess I shouldn't have been surprised when, on a weekday night less than a week later, he watched me again. It was later that day and it was dark. My boyfriend had been over the day before and I had on nothing but his button-down. I texted him to that effect, which led to some sexting. I'd turned on more lights so I could take some dirty selfies to send him. A little while later, legs spread wide, the bottom of my ass crack slick from all my juices, I came in a thunderous, thrashing fit. I had to cover my mouth so as not to wake the neighbors.

But one of my neighbors was wide awake. It was the same guy, same place, this time getting a much better view. The way I was lying on the couch, he got the full-on view of the whole proceedings that left nothing to the imagination. He smiled the same smile at me.

In some combination of not caring and maybe some exhibitionism, I left my legs spread wide and unbuttoned the shirt. My nipples were rock hard and he got the full, unobstructed view of everything. Granted, he wasn't all that nearby, but nothing was hidden.

And there I stayed, not moving other than to pick up my phone. There was a map of the apartment complex online and some system by which you could call anyone given their apartment number.

Still not covering up at all, I texted his apartment: "Like what you see?"

I had no idea if he had a land line or if the mobile phone attached to the intra-apartment dialer was his. There went a moment of panic through my mind, of what if he had a wife and her phone was connected to the system.

"I do. Thanks for opening your shirt for me." The momentary alarm went instantly when I got that back. He was bold and not going to shy away from the situation.

"You're a pervert," I wrote back.

"Maybe. But you're naughty for showing off to a pervert."

I didn't write back, not that night. I did save his number and started to text him casually a few days later. At first, it was a little subtle, some highly charged flirting. Over the course of a few weeks though, it turned into some hard-core sexting. We never discussed anything very personal, nothing beyond wanton personal desires.

He was very correct in sizing up that it turned me on to show off. I wasn't going to let him change me but I did make at least a mental note of anything he said he preferred, liked, desired, and wanted. A week into sexting, he caught me changing my mind about something, from what I preferred to what he'd said he wanted. He caught on quickly and after that, a lot of our conversations were him telling me what to do and me complying. He knew how to push me, just enough to get out of my comfort zone but not enough to ever make me tell him no or to stop.

Mind you, I don't think my boyfriend knew anything about this. Some nights, I'd sext them both at the same time. Often, I'd come home from work, set up the lighting and position myself to give my voyeur the best look, then follow his directions until he told me he was done with me for the night. At first, I'd send him the same pictures I'd taken for my boyfriend. After a while, I was taking pictures for my neighbor and sending them to my boyfriend. My neighbor had also gotten a pair of binoculars by now and I made sure he could see anything and everything my body had to offer, in explicit detail.

It didn't really feel like cheating to me. I loved my boyfriend and he still got lots my time. Playing with my boyfriend was almost all on weekdays, as my boyfriend and I would leave town together many weekends. My boyfriend wasn't very dominant and not nearly as adventurous, so in feeding him the same fantasy and narrative that my neighbor drew me down, my boyfriend got a much lustier, hot-blooded nymphomaniac than he ever would have otherwise.

The line was getting blurrier though. I was getting bolder in what I'd suggest to my neighbor. He never backed down and always kept his word. What had started as general, undirected fantasy at first was turning into a much more personal dialog, directed at him. In the beginning it was, "I like this." Over a couple months, it turned into, "I want to do this to you."

More often now, we'd have phone sex in the morning. At first, it was a quick flash and some messing around while the shower warmed up. Then it became falling asleep naked on the couch. He called to wake me up and it wasn't long before I was spread-eagle, rubbing my clit furiously.

It was those mornings when I was half awake when I made very overt offers. He'd long since figured out that if he turned down my offers, it would do nothing but make me follow his orders more carefully and completely.

"Why don't you put those binoculars down, come here and watch in person?" It seemed harmless, especially given how many times he'd seen all of me.

"Not today baby. But if you keep begging I might soon."

"I'm not begging." I may not have been, not directly, not then. But deeper down, I was. I was begging for him to let me give him anything I had to offer. The next time, I begged him to come over and promised him that he'd leave happy and satisfied. A week later, I flat-out offered him a blowjob if he just took the elevator down a floor and walked to the other side of the building. The next day I really begged.

"Just got out of shower. Come to my place?"

"What are you offering?" Nothing should have made me believe that he was really entertaining the offer.

"Full effort blowjob. On my knees. No hands. Will gag if you want. I don't spit."

"So yesterday you offered me a half effort blowjob?"

"Never. I never half ass. If its worth putting in half your ass its worth putting in your ass whole."

"Noted."

"My ass is yours if you want it too."

He didn't come over that day. Instead I lied there on the couch again and brought myself to three orgasms while he watched and directed me. I was wickedly horny and the orgasms just made it worse. That night, after some marathon sex with my boyfriend, I told him in a very round-about way that I'd do pretty much anything he wanted. I don't know if he got the message. I would've sucked and fucked him and anyone else he wanted all night and in any way he wanted. The sex was okay that night and I didn't come down from the excitement.

About a week later, he told me I was going to be late for work. I was dressed and ready to walk out the door but I asked him to hold for a bit while I called my assistant to ask for some things to be rescheduled.

"Sit on the couch."

"Yes, sir." I did, and I knew he could see me. He knew very well exactly what I was doing.

"Pull your pants and panties down."

I was going to tell him. I decided not to. I pulled my pants down. No panties.

"You're a dirty slut."

"Come here and I'll show you how much of a dirty slut I am."

He didn't come over. He made me finger myself to orgasm on the couch, still dressed in my work clothes, three times. Then he told me to go to the bathroom and get a small lotion bottle. When I returned, he had me sit down on the couch again and push the bottle into my asshole. I didn't listen very well and it wasn't the smallest one I had. Once in, he told me to masturbate again, over and over. I think I came nine times that morning, plus two more alone in the shower when I got home that night, thinking about it.

That made me feel dirty. I felt cheap, and used. I was an object for him to use to get his jollies. That turned me on more than I'd ever been turned on in my life.

The next day was a Thursday and I texted him in the morning. "Tonight. You. Me. Anything you want."

"Anything?"

"Name it. Its yours."

Crickets. I waited a minute, then two. I was getting wet just thinking about what I'd offered. He could say anything and I'd do it. I couldn't think of a single thing I wouldn't do, however humiliating or outside of my comfort zone it was. He'd pretty much destroyed my comfort zone over the past couple months, including any hope I had of ever putting one back together, with him at least.

I felt like I'd finally broken his defenses. He wasn't writing back. I figured I'd sweeten it a little, just to drive the point home. "You want me to call my two hottest girlfriends and come to your place?"

I'd never even thought about his place. This whole thing centered around my couch, my little world where I was his exhibitionist slut.

"Not tonight. I can't." Finally. Something back.

"Soon? Tell me what and when." This night was the first time I'd actually put a time frame on anything. Previously, it was either, "right now," or some vague future which I felt like neither of us really considered to be real. I was begging him to turn that distant future into a real present.

"I'll tell you what and when."

It made me feel a little guilty when my next text message was to my boyfriend, asking him if he wanted to get dinner together that night. We had been spending a lot of time together and I felt like my little secret life on the side was sweetening our relationship. It was all just words and my boyfriend got the best parts of it. I was always ready to go and my inhibitions were nearly erased, with him as well. I'd even learned to be a little coy and how to beg submissively.

So we had dinner that night. As we often did, we discussed our future and I worked with him to try to turn that vague future into a real present. I don't know who brought it up but the conversation about moving in together came up somehow.

By the end of dinner, I couldn't wait to get him naked and give him a physical show of my affection for him, my appreciation of all his time and effort, and how much our relationship meant to me. I went all out, whispering naughty things in his ear as I fucked him, trying to suck the head off his cock and making sure his balls were completely drained. Through the whole thing, we never got to finish our conversations, but we'd already planned to go out again the next night. So I woke him up with my mouth on his cock, asking him between licks when he was close, what he wanted me to do for him. He left me in his bed as he ran off to work after fucking me again in the shower. It just felt right to touch myself and get off a few times. I left a wet spot in his bed and the sheets rumpled.

That was the first day in a long time that I'd had the focus of my daydreams shifted from my neighbor to my boyfriend. I didn't get a lot of time to let my mind wander at work, but today it was all about a happy future life with someone I loved. I'd felt very sexually fulfilled with my neighbor but it didn't feel like it was real or permanent, just some passing fantasy to tickle me in places I'd never let anyone before.

So my mind wasn't expecting it at all when my neighbor texted me just as I'd gotten home from work.

"You wearing panties?"

A direct question deserves a direct answer. Usually, anyway. Not with him. But I was his in more ways than I would ever admit to myself. I replied without rational thought, just with wettening pussy lips. "No. Not to work today. Going out, about to shower."

"You're going to be late. Leave the door unlocked. No pants. Spread your legs so I can see everything when I walk in the door."

I went straight to sheer terror. I wasn't afraid of anything except myself. He probably wasn't waiting for a reply. It wasn't going to take him long to get here. Aside from the fact that I'd offered him anything he wanted, and any time he wanted it, I was functionally his slave at this point. I wasn't scared of him at all. I was scared of the fact that I was going to do everything he told me to.

There wasn't a whole lot of time. It probably wouldn't take him more than two minutes to get here and I'd already let half of one slip by in my panic. I unlocked the door, took off my pants, hiked my ass on the counter and spread my legs. Hopefully, years of cheerleading, gymnastics, swimming, and yoga had bought me enough flexibility to satisfy him with how wide I could spread my legs and hold them.

One more second of terror washed over me. Here I was, naked from the waist down, forcefully showing off everything I had to anyone who walked through the unlocked door. I figured if I was going to go that far, I may as well go all the way. I took my bra off under my blouse and hiked the top up over my breasts.

I work hard for my body and it shows. I also got really lucky with very firm boobs. They're not gigantic but they're plenty big enough. Best of all, they're full and round with nice, perky nipples. I keep my bikini body all year long. The one-hour average pick-up of a suitable man for sex back in my single days probably had a lot to do with the belly shirts and crop tops I wore. I'm not a bodybuilder but there's a little bit of ab muscle showing through. There have been some sloppy nights with other girls but I'm generally straight. Still, I greatly appreciate the female form and a lot of my confidence comes from standing in front of the mirror naked and seeing what I've got.

My moment of self-reflection ended abruptly as he opened the door. I would've preferred he opened it slightly and slipped in but he opened it wide. If there was someone else walking by at the moment, they would've gotten a good view of full frontal nudity.

He was older and better looking than I'd observed from afar. Unlike him, I didn't have binoculars. I'd never asked for pictures even though I'd sent him hundreds of just about every part of my body, clothed and not. He was tall too.

In fact, he was just the right height for what he was about to do. My ass was at the edge of the counter and I sat up a little to kiss him. We kissed passionately, tongues intertwined and with eagerness. There was nothing casual or relaxed about it, this was passionate. His hands grabbed my sides and squeezed my breasts.

Then his hands left my body. I knew where they'd gone and I wasn't going to let him do it alone. I pushed his hands out of the way as I unbuckled his belt and opened his pants. He wasn't wearing underwear either and I grasped his cock with both hands. It was massive in my hands, both thick and long. If anything about this had felt wrong or raised a doubt in my mind, feeling his prick in my hands, now rock hard, dispelled it. If for no other reason, I wanted to know how it felt inside me.

"That's... wow," I said, looking down as I broke the kiss for a moment.

He moved my hands, grasping his cock, and said, "you're going to be late. Keep your legs spread."

My jaw dropped in amazement as he brushed the head around my greasy lips, then pushed it into the hole. I was drooling onto the counter and down the edge of the island onto the floor by now. He just kept going. His cock slipped into my body, stretching me wide.

"Wait...," I said, "you should probably wear a condom."

He didn't stop sliding in, as he asked, "do you want me to go get one?"

"No, keep going if you want," I said. There was no part of me that had any imperative or desire to make him do anything I wanted. What I wanted was to do anything and everything he said, exactly as he said it.