For the Stranger in 6Bbypeachesmelba©
I've been watching you now for quite some time. I know that your apartment is a mirror image of mine and you're not very consistent about closing your drapes. Sometimes I think that you know I'm over here, watching you, but you seem to think I'm harmless. Well, all things considered, I guess you're right - I AM fairly harmless. But I know quite a lot about you now. For one thing, you have VERY expensive tastes. Everything you own seems to be first class - absolutely top shelf. Have to admit, your apartment looks just like something out of one of those magazines - cold, sterile and very expensive. Doesn't seem to have made you very happy though.
Your women look just the same. They've got that starved model look down pat, so I guess maybe I should say they look cold, sterile, STARVED and expensive. Hard to imagine one of them mussing her hair or makeup to give you a blow job. Doesn't seem to happen very much either from what I've seen. Probably a good thing you can't see the looks on their faces sometimes when you're eating them out or when they're on top....frigid bitches for the most part. What's that line....'full of sound and fury, signifying nothing'? That's the look on their faces when they pretend to cum for you.
Now me, on the other hand, no one will ever describe me as pinched or starved looking. Or expensive looking either, for that matter. I work in a nursing home, not for a modeling agency, and I am barely taller than I am big around, built like a prehistoric earth goddess. I have ass-length chestnut brown hair that falls straight as a waterfall from the top of my head to my hips, and skin so milk white and transparent you can see my veins. Last, but not least I have tiny hands and feet. If you were to believe old wives' tales you'd think I had a twat about the size of a matchbox based on my hands and feet, but sometimes appearances are deceiving. As for being frigid, well, let me just say that women who can enjoy one sensual pleasure can usually enjoy them all with equal facility...
But I digress... I was telling you some of the things I know about you, and how I know them. I know that you live in 6B because your apartment building is built on the same level as mine. And the east apartments are always lettered B, D, F, etc. Since I live in west 6A and you have the corner apartment also, you live in 6B. I know you look good naked when you step out of your shower in the morning, solidly built, more muscle than fat. I can't really guess your age but I suspect, from the "arm candy" you date, that you're probably older than you look. And there is that touch of gray in your body hair as well.
Finally, I know that that when you are depressed, or lonely, or upset about something you sit out on your balcony at night, smoke cigars and drink alone. Or sometimes you play guitar very quietly. Lately there's been a lot of cigar smoke and guitar music drifting through my balcony doors at night...
Now if there's one thing I cannot stand it is a depressed man! The thing that's been puzzling me the past few days is how to take your mind off your troubles, so that I can get some sleep if for no other reason. I can't very well show up at your door naked with a pecan pie and whipped cream. Well, I guess I could, but I'd rather not risk spending the night in jail or on the Psych Ward. I think though that I finally have a plan, and Saturday night, when it's new moon and so dark outside that there won't be any external light sources as distraction, that's when my plan goes into effect...
I know lots of men think women love to be spontaneous about sex, and we do. There's a lot to be said though for having several days to think about things and plan them out to the smallest detail. And I have to tell you, by Saturday afternoon I was spending almost every waking minute that I was alone with my hands down my panties and I still couldn't seem to make myself cum hard enough. Just thinking about what I had planned....well, considering how little experience you seemed to have with "chubby chicks", what I was planning was going to 'rock your world'!
I spent Saturday morning at the salon getting waxed baby smooth. Then I made a trip to the florist, and several other stores until I had exactly the right scented candles and "garnishments" for the dish I was preparing. Home to clean and prepare everything, making certain the flowers are perfectly arranged, and the candles situated for optimal lighting. The large mirror that hangs at the head of the bed has to be re-adjusted so that the viewing angle is slightly better. I strip the bed to just the bottom sheet and put the deep turquoise sheet on, knowing it will bring out the blue of my eyes. I top the queen-sized bed with lots of pillows and include my big, specially modified body pillow, making sure that the special items I want are close at hand and easy to find before stepping back to look around, satisfied with my preparations in the bedroom.
Into the kitchen then to get some things ready in there. I want to ice down the champagne flutes and chill the Asti. I also make my own fudge sauce and prepare real whipped cream. None of that frozen, packaged, overly sweetened crap in my kitchen. I'm a firm believer in real, honest, homestyle cooking....in the kitchen and the bedroom.
Finally, as the afternoon starts to lengthen, it's time to start preparing myself. I start with a warm shower so that I can wash my hair. That takes a while all by itself. Then I wash every nook and cranny with the special rose silk body wash, paying special attention to my hungry pussy, opening the folds and letting the water run down my body without impediment, tickling my lips and ass. My excitement level is definitely up by this point, my nipples are erect and tightly ridged, stiff and sensitive even to the flow of the water running over them.
Once I've rinsed and towel dried my hair, wrapping it in a drying sheet, I move to the edge of the garden tub. With it's mirrored surround it is the perfect spot for the next step in my preparations. Spreading my legs widely, as the tub fills, I examine my slit to make sure it is perfect and totally hairless for you. As I spread myself, looking in the mirror and reflecting on what you're going to see, I know that initially you'll see the plump, pink pout of my slit. Smooth and hairless as a baby's butt I watch as arousal changes the color from pink to a deeper rose flush and the ruffled lips of my labia begin to swell and make their presence known. There is a glisten of moisture on the inner edge of my lips as they continue to swell and they darken to nearly a burgundy color.
Tracing the line of my cunt with one finger I gather the moisture to annoint the head of my cobalt blue bullet vibe. First I use it on my nipples and as I turn it on high, touching first one nipple, then the other, I know that I'm going to cum very hard and very fast. All I can do right now is stuff the vibrator into my streaming cunt, while my other hand twists and pinches my nipples. I'm crying out and I'm coming, but it's not nearly enough yet.
Sliding into the warm water I add scented oils, continuing my prep, and finishing before the water gets cool. After toweling off I oil up with the special blend of cocoa butter and Vitamin E oil that keeps my skin smooth as satin. I want extra oil tonight for the highlights, and by the time I'm done I glisten all over like new minted silver. Combing out my hair and tying it back I realize that everything is done, and that darkness is falling outside on the balcony.
As I open my balcony doors and pull back the drapes I know that everything truly is in place when I hear a soft strum of guitar music and catch the faint scent of cigar smoke on the night breeze. The cool air strokes my fevered flesh like a lover's hand and I can hardly wait for the main event to begin. I turn on the CD player and the hoarse soulful sounds of Tina Turner singing "Private Dancer" echo out into the night while I begin to light the scented vanilla and musk candles. Like many bigger people I'm surprisingly light on my feet. Years of dance lessons, yoga, and even belly dancing have taught me how to use my body and move to the rhythms I'm hearing. As I move into your view, naked and glowing in the candlelight I hear a discordant twang as the guitar music stutters to a stop.
I already know that you are sitting in the corner of the glider, next to the small table that holds your liqour and glass and an over-sized ashtray for your cigar. It's where you always sit. During the preceding days, whenever you weren't at home, I checked out all the angles and lines of sight from my apartment. You are the only person who will have a full view of what happens next. The apartments at 6D and 7B would have to seriously strain their necks in order to get a glimpse of my gift to you. If they choose to, then perhaps the more the merrier, but tonight is only for you.
Still moving to the music I go into the kitchen, bringing out the ice bucket, Asti and frozen glasses, putting them on the table on my patio. I know you can see that there are two glasses and now you're thinking that I am preparing for my lover. It's true, I am, but what you haven't yet realized is that you are my lover tonight...or I am yours. I hear the faint clink of bottle on glass and know that, for now at least, you are not thinking about whatever has been bothering you lately. I smile to myself and toss my head, flipping the long dark tail of my hair around my body like a veil as I open the wine and pour myself a glass. Moving to the edge of the balcony where I know the night is darkest, I pull my hair back behind my ears again. As my arms stretch up, and move behind my head I know that my breasts are now thrusting into view, as though, you might think, I am offering them to you. I sip my wine, still moving occasionally to the beat of the music, and enjoying the cool of the night, the faint hint of salt air from the on shore breeze.
Dipping one finger in my wine I allow the drops to fall onto one erect nipple, knowing that you cannot see details, but that your mind is supplying all the vision that your eyes lack at the moment. I begin to circle my nipples, first one, then the other, with wine wet fingers. The chill effervescence of the wine provides an added, exotic stimulus to the nipple play. I wonder suddenly how it would feel, and then I have to know, dipping several fingers into the wine I move them, out of your view, to my hot, aching cunt. Oh God, it feels so glorious that I spread my legs, throwing back my head and moaning with my first orgasm of the night. I know that I have your undivided attention now as I bring my fingers to my lips, licking and sucking my juices from them. Mixed with the taste of the wine I am delicious and I wish it were you sucking my fingers. I dip them to my honeypot again, making certain you know what I'm doing by putting one foot onto the chair seat next to me. I fill my wine glass again and now I fill the second glass too, placing it carefully on the balcony rail. Tipping my glass toward you slightly, as you sit quietly in the dark, I clink the glasses together and drain mine before moving back into the bedroom and then the kitchen, for the remainder of my "supplies".
Coming back from the kitchen I see the ghostly glimmer of your white shirt that means you have moved to the edge of your balcony. Sitting on the edge of my bed I spread my legs wide, and hear you catch your breath. Yes, I do have a beautiful pussy, and I know that, smooth and hairless as it is tonight, you have an unobstructed view. I am still wet with the dew from my first cum, and throbbing slightly, so my orchid pulses in the candlelight and night air. My nipples are taut but not yet hard and I thumb them into turgid peaks. I have large nipples, big as teacups and a warm cafe latte brown. They are more than a mouthful for most men and extremely sensitive. I've been known to come just from nipple stimulus in the past, but not tonight. Tonight I want more, much, much more.
Turning I lay down on the bed, my spread legs toward the mirror and my head hanging off the end, breasts standing tall and proud. I reach into the bowl at the foot of the bed and taking a dollop of the cold whipped cream I first top one nipple, and then the other, making sure you see me licking my fingers clean this time. Then taking the squeeze bottle of fudge sauce I drizzle fudge sauce all over the tops of my breasts, till it is running down the sides. I know that my breasts now look like huge vanilla ice cream sundaes and I cannot resist the urge to finger up a dollop of the whipped cream and fudge sauce, licking it from my fingers. Then I have a better idea and sliding one of my long, pink dildos from under the mattress I make sure that you see it in my hands as I begin to lick and suck the head, pretending it is you.
I hear a faint groan from out of the night, and the soft whisper of a zipper coming down, as I dip the dildo into the whipped cream and fudge on my breasts, once again licking it clean. Again and again I wipe my tits with it, licking and sucking, occasionally taking it all the way down my open throat. By now I am so hot again I cannot wait for the next step. I need to come again and dropping both hands to my nipples, I begin to pull and tweak, imagining your hot mouth and lips on them. There, that slight pressure from my fingernails is your gentle nibble of teeth against the rock hard points.
I am so hot for you now, so fucking horny, I cannot stand it any longer. Turning so that my juicy cunt is fully in your view, I grab my "fat boy dong". Annointing my slit with whipped cream I take the big, brown dildo and slide it into my aching hole. In the mirror overhead I can see that you've moved into your bedroom now, with the lights on low. You've taken your equipment in hand and are matching my movements. Slow, slow at first, then increasing in rhythm and speed until I am pounding my pussy, the white of the whipped cream providing sharp contrast to the chocolate brown of my instrument and the flaming pink of my labia. I turn the motor on, high, as I thumb my nipples and continue the steady, pounding rhythm. God, baby I am so close now and licking my fingers I drop them to my clit, the hard pearl standing erect, already throbbing under my touch as I begin to stroke it, imagining your hand pumping me with my toy, while your lips and tongue tease and flicker over me.
Now I'm screaming "Yes, yes, don't stop.....oh God yes" As my back arches with the glorious release of my explosion, I see you having your own explosion. I am licking and sucking my other toy again, in my mind not wanting to waste a glorious drop of your cum...
Sometime later I hear a knock at the door and opening it I see you standing there. You smile somewhat sheepishly and begin to speak when you hear the deep bass rumble of a man's voice, "Damn baby, that was one helluva show. Thought I was gonna yank my pride right off at one point and then what would you do for.....Oh hey, I didn't hear the door, who is it?"
As the looming 6 foot 5 inch 'black death' that is my husband wraps his arms around me, you pale slightly and say "Sorry...wrong apartment number..."