The Bossy Bitch in 3401

"Move your sorry ass over here and open this door, BOY," she ordered.

Frank finally stood, put his pecker away, and zipped up his pants. With a defeated moan, sucking in a drink of air, he sighed. Busted, the thought. Frank opened the door, desperate with fear.

"Hey," he said.

"Don't fucking 'hey' me, BOY," she snapped. She filled the doorway, the leather jacket covering her upper body, a brick gripped in her hand. Frank worried she would hit him with the block, but she dropped the gray block and pushed past Frank and into his apartment. She strutted straight to the sofa, turned to face him, with hands upon hips, and her legs wide apart.

"Nasty boy, aren't you? Come here, little boy, and explain this to me." She wagged her finger at him.

"I'm sorry," he said, shuffling to her. His dong twitched at her anger. Fear and lust combined to give him a strange reaction erection.

"You're sorry for what?" She swung her hand in the air. "Go close the, fucking, door. Don't be a fucking moron." Frank obeyed, and when the door was closed, she commanded, "Now, come here." She pointed to the spatter of spooch trickling down the wall. "Explain what you were doing, you fucking, nasty boy."

"I'm not a boy," he said. Something about her attitude struck a chord with him. He felt his junk swelling, so he covered his crotch with his hands. She reached inside her coat and pulled out a cigar.

"You sure as shit is a boy," she said, fishing out a match from the side pocket. The woman clutched the match in her fingers, put her thumbnail on the head, and racked across it. The flame leaped to life. She put the match to the tip of the stogie and sucked the fire into the tobacco. With quick inhales and exhales, she puffed thick plumes of smoke out of her mouth and nose. Puckered her lips, she blew over the match, extinguishing the blaze.

God, she's sexy, he thought; the strength this woman exuded was an intoxicant to him, an aphrodisiac. His fear of her caused his cock to react.

"Jacked off watching me, didn't you...boy," she said.

"Well, not exactly," he answered.

"Did you think I asked a question?" He nodded. "This wasn't a fucking question, I make statement. So, don't fucking lie to me, boy. Your junk on the wall gives me all answers I need, boy."

"Yes, ma'am, I masturbated while I gaze at you," he answered her, ducking his head. His cheeks burned bright red.

"Masturbated? What the fuck? Are you a church person, what they call, preacher? Say word which is right, nasty boy," she barked at him.

"Do you actually say 'masturbate'? Do you like being a nasty preacher man who says such a lifeless word? Say this right, like aren't stupid or uptight. Tell me you jerked your prick while you spied on me. Say you spit out your little boy spunk over the wall, wishing I was one getting your baby, size bone and not your fucking hand."

He just stared at her, not sure what to do.

"Say it, motherfucker!" Her body shook as she yelled. "You want I should hurt you?" she wagged her fist at him.

"I jacked off while you dance," he finally said.

"What's your name, boy?"

"Frank," he said.

"What are you hiding, Frankie boy?" Her anger seemed to have burned out. She stared at his crossed hands.

"Nothing," he said.

"Show."

"I'd rather not," he said. "Well, certainly nice meeting you."

"Who give a fuck, what you rather or not do? Not me. I'm not going anywhere yet. Move...your...fucking...sissy...hands," she said.

"I'd rather not," he said again. The intensity of the neighbor's scrutiny made him uncomfortable and harder.

"Why, in fucks sake, you say what I say not to say? So little," she said, twisting her lips to smirk, "tiny, peepee boy, right?" His stare shifted to the floor, and his head dipped further, nodding. "Move your hands, baby," she repeated.

He parted his hands, and his cheeks again flushed. The expression on the girl's face changed. A cruel amusement came over at the exposure of his little bump on the front of his khaki pants, the dark, moist patch covering the crown of the bulge. Reaching out, the woman unzipped his pants.

"Let Mr. Tiny out of his hole, for me," she ordered. "I don't touch nasty boys' dirty, tiny, baby, lil' buddies." With a cruel twist, she jabbed the insult home. "I only touch men's cocks, you understand meaning, huge ones, right?" So, Frank worked fee his small three-inch, rock-hard dicklet, and little robin's-egg-sized balls.

"What cute child's dicklet you have, Frankie. So, short, stubby and small like twig," she said, sucking in the thick cigar smoke. She bent down and released a curl of smoke around his tiny package. "Yankie on twiggy, Frankie. Come on, pull your little, how they say, tallywhacker, jerky-jerky, while I watch."

He clutched it, his fat, stubby fingers completely covering his penis.

"Stop. Sit on the couch," the cruel woman said and spat the insult, "boy." Dutifully, he sat down and reached for his belt. "Oh boy, don't you dare to take anything off. You let the tiny weewee peek out of your pants." He continued stroking, and she gave him an angry scowl.

"Shit, little boy, I don't see diddly squat. Take your hand off your nasty thingy," she said. Puffing on the cigar, she sat next to him on the sofa with her back against the arm. She swung her legs up, placing her spike-heeled boot in his lap, next to his small penis. "Pull my, motherfucking, boot off," she said.

Frank worked the boot off her dainty foot. She raised her foot to his mouth, running it over his lips, the ball, the arch, and heel. Finally, the girl wiggled her toes on his lips. "Lick them," she ordered. Without hesitation or question, Frank stuck his tongue out, licking the tiny foot. "Make them little piggies wet, Frankie." He worked up a lather of saliva over her toes. She put her toes on his tiny pecker and rubbed.

"You like this, boy?" she asked. He nodded in excitement. "Can I hear your head bob? Moron," she snapped.

"No, ma'am. I mean, yes, ma'am, I like very much," he said. Already Frank felt the pressure building in his balls. His breathing became ragged as she worked her soft toes over his miniature pecker. Precum seeped from it, running down and adding to the lubrication.

"You're a sissy boy, aren't you?" she said. "Soft, little, pitiful, sissy boy will let me walk all over your worthless ass." She teased him with cruel taunting. "You like being my useless little worm, don't you? Turns you so hot when I tell you what nasty shit you are, doesn't this, baby?"

He nodded his head. "Yes, ma'am," he said, remembering she didn't like him to nod. "Ma'am, this feels so good. But, oh, God, I can't hold back for long." She put the top of her other, booted foot on the other side of his wormy member, and quickened her pace. "Oh shit," he groaned.

"That's it, nasty, little boy, blast your dirty nut juice." His twig of stick twitched and spat a stream high up in the air. The blast dribbled over her barefoot and boot leather, some falling over his tiny weenie as well. A second burst jumped up, not quite as high, falling on his pants, shirt, third, and fourth. She squeezed her feet together, milking the last drops out of his pecker.

"On the floor now," she said. "Lick all gross, nasty, ball batter, you maggot. Clean my boot and foot. Be obedient, worm. Come on, little, sissy boy, eat your spunk."

The young woman put her feet on the floor. Frank dropped down without hesitation and went to work. He gobbled up the thick semen, cleaning her boot and foot with his tongue.

Sucking in on the cigar, she smiled down at him. She exhaled more thick, hazy blue smoke into the air. She stood, put her boot back on her foot.

"Little-tot boy, you are going to be a fine neighbor," she said as she sashayed to the door. Whirling back to him, she smiled. "You're such a nasty little freak, aren't you?"

Frank nodded. "Yes."

"Dirty perverts need punishment," she said, arching an eyebrow. "You can call me Miss Lidia. I'm a dancer at Cloud Nine. Now don't make me hurt you, honey, 'cause I will. You understand this, right?"

"Yes, Miss Lidia," he said.

"Come to the bar tomorrow night, spend lots of money and tip me, lots of money," she said. "Later, in the dark of night, I punish you. You like pain. I appreciate this, will hurt you so, fucking, good." She sauntered out the door, closing the door softly behind her.

Frank crawled up on the couch and looked out through the slits. In a flash he realized, he should be careful doing this. But, instead, he gawked at her as she practiced her dancing, jerking off until the wall had a thick lacker, and his peter ached.

Maybe change wasn't so bad after all.