The Safe Girl

I deserved a little fantasy and entertainment right? I mean its not like I am going to barge into her room and do anything inappropriate. I was merely enjoying a small moment of listening to a woman pleasuring herself. And its a very natural and beautiful thing. These last few years have been tough. I definitely deserved this tiny moment.

Her moans were sweet sounding. I could imagine squirming. And rubbing. And more squirming. And tightly shut eyes. And maybe bottom lip biting. And . . . Ok I now had to leave. I tried to be quiet as I opened my door. I was in my boxers with quite a tent pole pushing my boxers straight out. Unfortunately my loft apartment is in an old building and creaking floors are par for the course.

So at 10:25 at night, as my apartment mate is pleasuring herself merely 10 feet away behind a very thin wall, my foot landed squarely on the floor where the worst of the creaking occurs. Good job Stephen.

"Damn," I whispered to myself as she went silent. I stood as quietly as I could, very conscious of any and all noises. Nothing. I stepped off the creak (of course causing another loud noise) and then tried to make my way to the living room, doing the fast prancing tip toe move. Glad no one saw that level of gay gracefulness (not that there is anything wrong with that!). I grabbed an old throw blanket, one of the items I kept from before, and more or less wrapped up in it as I sat on the couch.

I sat quietly, listening for movement but heard none. My mind oscillated between picturing Jess in the throws of self-induced passion and her being disgusted with me for being an eavesdropping old perv. And oh yeah, my hard on was still quite hard. So there I sat cursing myself for possibly making her so unbelievably uncomfortable. She is probably online looking for an apartment as I sit here on the couch with an undying erection.

And then her door opened. Like a rabbit with nowhere to go I just froze. What seemed like an eternity passed. I heard her breathing while I desperately tried to hold my breath. And then the door closed again. And I exhaled.

++++++++++++

Apparently Saturday morning for Jess is just like every other day as she was up early. But this time I was on the couch, which threw her off. She definitely didn't have "Pass Old Perv on the Couch at 6:00 am" penciled in.

I heard her door open, and since sunlight was definitely streaming through the non-curtained windows of the main room, I was pretty much spotlighted laying on the couch where I had eventually fallen asleep. Oh yeah, still in my boxers. So my eyes shot open as I heard the creak of her door only to see Jess in a tight white tank, above a strip of her exposed belly followed by a very small pair of shorts. No wait, underwear. Boyshorts? Those looked amazing on her. Unbelievably cute. Good lord I didn't need that image to never leave my memory.

She froze, blood leaving her face and stared at me for a second, mumbled a quick "hi" and then bolted to the bathroom. I caught a glimpse of her barely covered behind as she closed the bathroom door behind her. And then my head just dropped to my hands. Yup. Old perv. Dammit.

I quietly went to my room and just crawled into bed. Maybe I can have a groundhog day reset and start yesterday all over again. I couldn't sleep so I heard the progression of the bathroom door opening again, followed by her room's door shutting, and then re-opening fifteen minutes later, followed by her in the kitchen and then leaving.

Saturday is laundry and grading day for me. So that's what I did. Well that and majorly stress over how uncomfortable Jess must be feeling. As I gathered my laundry, I replayed the scene in my head, coming up with all of the many varying ways I could have handled it differently. Sadly I never developed the ability to time travel.

Unfortunately the by-product of obsessing over my new apartment mate's masturbation episode was that I found myself being led around the apartment by my rather erect penis. I wasn't sure when Jess was going to get home, so I decided to try to take care of it quickly. I figured I had some time, based on her usual schedule, 20 or so minutes.

I left the basket of clothes on the couch and slipped back into my room. I quickly pulled off shirt, shorts and boxers and grabbed my laptop. I pulled up a favorite website for just such an occasion and began searching for some stimulation.

Hmm. Lesbian massages? Threesomes? Large breasted women? None seemed to pique my interest. I was hard but looking at any of it was just not doing anything for me. My hand was moving up and down my length but it felt like just going through the motions. Frustrating. This activity usually is not terribly challenging for me.

I briefly closed my eyes and Jess immediately was front and center. Her eyes. Her smile. She was wearing a tight tank and boy shorts just like earlier. She was smiling at me. I was holding her. Kissing her. She was stroking me. Wait!! Holy shit. I felt like such a dirty old man.

I shook my head and felt the pressure subside. My body would have preferred an orgasm to this internal struggle shit.

I looked again at the website and began stroking. Frustration. I need relief! I closed the laptop and let my eyes close again, knowing full well what I was allowing to happen. Screw it.

Her beautiful eyes. Her slender body. Her smile. Kissing. Holding. She rubbing my cock. Me tracing a finger along her pussy lips. Opening for my finger. Slipping in, like maybe she was last night. Wetness.

Moments later I am on the verge. My hand was moving quickly up and down the length. My mind was focused on my fantasy, which means it completely didn't register the front door opening and closing. Nor did it register that my bedroom door was a little open. But it did register the gasp just outside of my bedroom door, followed by the quick patter of feet and the closing of Jess's door.

And my orgasm evaded me again. Shit. And I have dug a further friggin hole. Double shit.

I sighed, stuffing my rather hard cock back into my boxers and shorts and went into the living room to grab the laundry basket. No need to stress over it now. She is packing her stuff. Maybe she will slip out while I am downstairs in the laundry room.

I loaded the clothes into the machine and pressed the correct sequence of buttons and then did some reading in the adjacent lounge. Next load. Dryer. Repeat. And an hour and a half later I am heading back up the stairs with my two loads done.

I pause at the door, contemplating whether she would still be there, and if so how the conversation might go. I ended up with about four options, none of them very good. Most ending with her deciding to avoid living with a dirty old man.

I sighed and opened the door, prepared to accept my fate.

++++++++++++

She was just sitting on the couch with her feet tucked under her. She was wearing jogging shorts and a fit tank, slightly longer than the one I saw last night. Great, that image is back. And Mr. Happy is stiffening again. Old ladies, road kill, Snoopy, potato chips.

As I walked in, she glanced up and smiled. "Hi Dr. Hamilton" I just stood there. Awhile. "Um. . hi Jess."

"Doing some laundry, huh?"

"Yup."

"Is that downstairs?"

"Yup."

"Cool! I might have to do some later."

"Ok."

Yep, I am a cool cucumber when under pressure. Ok, my analytical mind kicked in. Is she acting like everything didn't happen for some reason? Or did I just imagine I heard her earlier? Maybe she gasped about something completely unrelated to me stroking my hard cock .. Just outside my door . . Maybe she is suppressing it all and it will all bubble to the surface ten years from now with some therapist or in a support group. Maybe she is traumatized. I decided to tread lightly.

"I was going to throw a sandwich together, Jess. Want anything?"

"Sure! That would be awesome!" She smiled at me. I carefully studied her face. She glanced back at me and smiled again. Beaming really. That went pretty well thus far. She didn't scream and run from the room. She didn't look at me with disgust. We will call this a win.

"Great, I will fire them up in a moment" I studied her face yet again. No mouth twitching. No eye ticks. No sputtering. She didn't look like she was holding stuff in. No stress that I could see. She was her very normal cute self, curled up on my couch.

I took my clothes into my room, shaking my head the whole time. Ok, why ruin a good thing? If she is acting like all is good, I can live with that. I am a guy, I can suppress emotions. This is much better than the alternative, which involves young women crying and running away from me.

So we enjoyed lunch together. And we hung out for the afternoon. I graded and read some papers. She planned her next week's job hunt. I offered to review her resume. She enthusiastically accepted. I gave her advice on cover letters and follow ups. She was appreciative.

I was inwardly freaking out.

Why was she acting like everything was ok??? I tried to keep playing on. Dinner. Night routine. Bed time. All was rather normal. As I approached my bedroom door I heard her quietly say behind me, "enjoy your night, Dr. H." She immediately slipped through her door before I could look back at her.

As I was settling into bed I thought about it. Every night for a week it was just "goodnight" but tonight it was "enjoy your night." Probably means nothing, but . . . Maybe she is . . Nah.

I closed my eyes and her pretty smile came to my mind. Again. And her tight short tank and boy shorts. Mmmmm. Boy shorts. And Mr. Happy came to attention reminding me of how I didn't let him finish earlier. He is so needy.

As I continued to picture her face, her eyes, her smile, I slipped off my boxers and wrapped my fingers around my shaft. Slow squeezing strokes and I could already feel the building pressure.

All was as planned until I heard a moan. I paused mid-stroke and held my breath. There it was again. A moan. And suddenly my cock ached as I heard her a third time. I couldn't believe this was happening again. I allowed small breaths as I continue to slide my fingers up and down my length.

My mind immediately conjured up images of what was going on next door. Just feet away. Guilt had no room as my lust was filling all of my thoughts. I pumped harder. My pumping nearly in rhythmic sync with her moaning. Each moan equaled three of my strokes. My bed moved a bit, squeaking, but I didn't care. My mind, focus and all else was elsewhere.

I pictured her laying back on her bed. Tank on. Nothing else. Her legs spread with her knees touching the bed, as if she was waiting for me. Her toes curling as her fingertip circled her clit. Wetness spreading. I had a very vivid imagination. I hadn't felt this kind of immediate and powerful pressure in quite some time. I needed to cum. So badly.

And then I exploded. And I did something I never do when masturbating. I groaned. And then there was a pause in the moans from next door. A four second pause followed by increased moaning. And finally one long moan followed by quiet.

I just laid there. Was she doing this with me? Intentionally? There is no articulated protocol for beautiful young apartment mate mutual near proximity but different room masturbation coordination. I was at a loss.

So I laid there. Thinking. Until I did what I usually do after a great orgasm. I slept.

++++++++++++

I awoke naked to the sound of her door opening. Six AM schedule kicks into gear. The patter of her feet and then the bathroom door. I listened to her routine. It was kind of relaxing. I was almost being meditative. Diane was a creature of habit too. She had this routine every morning that played out a few hours before I usually got up. She would read some on our back porch. We lived out in the boonies so it was quiet and she said she loved to listen to the birds as they got up early too. She would work on her writing a bit as the quiet of early morning proved an excellent time for her to focus. And sometimes she would get back into bed to wake me up in the most lovely of ways.

She would slip in behind me, her naked body pressed against my back and bottom. Her hands would slip around and gently caress my chest and stomach, bringing me slowly to consciousness. I loved feeling her naked breasts against my back, her nipples gazing my skin. Her fingers would eventually slide down my stomach and gently caress my shaft. It would be all I could do to not take her hard there, but feeling her loving touch in a slow build up was just plain beautiful.

Even early morning sex alarm clocks would take a second seat to what I missed the most: someone next to me at night. And occasionally in the morning when I actually woke up before Diane. Spooning can be one of the most comforting things for me. It helped me remember that I was not alone.

When Jess finally left the apartment to do her morning run, I slipped out of bed and jumped in the shower. I was hard again, but this time because of Diane. Good lord. I haven't had this much of a libido in some time. I smelled the body soap Jess used, flowery. Sweet. I even took a whiff of her shampoo. Also very flowery. I loved that smell. Yes, I felt like a stalking serial killer for a moment.

I managed to make it through my shower, although I have to admit a quick release was necessary. My confusion reigned supreme as I juggled the aching memory of one woman and the presence of another. Jess was not like Diane. Diane was the real memory I could not let go of while Jess was the fantasy I would never see become a reality. And I felt guilt when I thought about both of these women so close together.

I know I was breaking the routine but I felt good, was awake and I wanted to do something for Jess. I was almost finished with two cheese, ham and onion omelettes when the door opened. She was breathing heavy and was sweating a little. She was sporting short running shorts, showcasing nice legs, and a clingy tee shirt. And a very surprised expression at yours truly up and cooking.

"Hey Dr. H. . Up early?" She asked carefully.

"Good morning. Yup. Couldn't sleep. Made you an omelette." I pointed my spatula at the very recently covered plate on the counter and smiled.

She then smiled back. She looked a little relieved maybe? She grabbed a seat at the counter and uncovered it, smiling as she closed her eyes and sniffed deeply. I love how Jess just seems to enjoy things. I haven't stopped to enjoy simple things in awhile.

"So whats on your schedule today?" She glanced at me and smiled between chews. Slightly disarming. I need to masturbate ten times today and then cook some lunch, was what ran through my head. Instead, "Oh some writing mostly, nothing too exciting."

She nodded as she took another small bite and then made a mmm sound. Ok, that was sexy. I made something using the kitchen that made her mmmm! I was taking my victory lap in my mind.

She glanced over, mmmed again and pointed at her omelette with her fork "Love this, by the way." She held up her fist and I hesitantly bumped it. That made me smile.

"How about you? Anything on your Sunday calendar?" I was now taking a bit bigger bites of my Jess mmmm causing masterpiece.

She shrugged. "Well, I was going to reorganize my dresser drawers. . . " I nearly snorted with laughter. "What??!! Stop laughing at me!" She was smiling big, apparently reasonably used to people finding her particular ways of doing things amusing. "ANYWAY, I work at one for the dinner shift. Oh, and I was also hoping to do . . .well if it is ok with you and will not be a bother . . " She was treading lightly. That was usually my job. So I just looked at her with a single eyebrow raised.

"Ok, spit it out Jess," I motioned with my fingers smiling. "Would it bother you if I did some . .yoga?" She was almost cringing as she watched for my change in expression. I shrugged. "Not my thing but knock yourself out."

She smiled her winning smile. "Thanks bunches! It's a small apartment so I didn't want to make you suffer if it would really bother you. I usually try to do one hour a week. Sunday is the most sensible day for it, of course, as it is usually my flexible day." She was mumbling to herself as she went to her room. I laughed to myself.

I set up my laptop at the kitchen table, since I lost my office to Jess. I started working through some resources and organizing the overall structure of my paper. I usually didn't like writing the scholarly stuff on the weekend but I found myself wanting to be in the apartment if Jess was going to be there. She was fun. And not bad on the eyes. Oh yeah, and she freaking turned me on with the whole masturbation thing, which was still creating turmoil for me. And if she was going to act as if all was good then I was going to enjoy it. Hopefully.

Thirty or so minutes later, I had just started on organizing some of the theoretical arguments in outline format when I heard Jess's door open. I glanced towards her and back to my paper and then immediately back to her again. Oh boy. She was wearing some stretchy yoga type of pants. And a shirt that was a bit of a crop tee, putting her cute navel and flat belly on display. No shoes or socks finished her uniform up.

She caught me staring, and just smiled. "You sure this is ok?" i nodded dumbly. "I could maybe do this in my room instead?" I shook my head dumbly. "So this will not bother you then?" I shook my head dumbly again. "Ok, awesome!" She pulled her winning smile and laid her yoga mat out.

I need to stop staring. But I cannot. As she turned her back to me I saw a lovely, perfect, delicious bottom. The pants were flattering. That's all I am going to say about that. Ok, that's not true as I have a lot more to say on the subject. The pants hugged her bottom so magnificently. It seemed pretty obvious to me that she was at most wearing a thong under them, which gave me even more happy thoughts and images. As she straightened the mat out, her shirt, while still covering essentials, rode up a bit to expose even more of her beautiful creamy skin. I wonder how soft her skin is? A small flashing image of my hands holding either side of her exposed waist whizzed through my mind. Must stop staring. Can't stop staring.

I then noticed she stopped moving. Somehow my eyes peeled away from her perfectly designed bottom up uncomfortably to lock eyes with her, watching me as she looked over her shoulder.

My face felt very hot. "I . .uh. . sorry . .I was just . .well . .my eyes were . . " I just shut up at that point. Anything short of 'I was lusting after your very perfect ass' was going to sound disingenuous. She studied me for a moment and then turned her head quickly, returning to her mat. Shit!!

"I am going to head into my room to give you privacy" I mumbled as I grabbed my laptop. She didn't turn to face me as she sat on her knees on the mat, but I heard her voice quietly "No, please, stay right there."

Confusion reigns. Surely I am giving her the creeps. I mean I matter as well wear a "Hello My Name is Pervert" sticky name tag. I was at a loss. "Are you . . sure?"

She had settled with her side to me now, her eyes closed as she started breathing. "Yup. Now shhh!"

Well ok then. "Yes ma'am," I murmured. There was a hint of a smile on her face as she kept her eyes closed, breathed deeply, legs crossed and hands resting gently on her knees.

Now, the respectable guy would have probably turned to give her some privacy. I already felt pretty invasive considering the extensive leering i had dished out mere moments before. But then I guess I am not terribly respectable. She was to my right and a little forward, so I found myself glancing in her direction about. . oh I don't know . .every two seconds or so. Let's just say that not much outlining of theoretical arguments were going on in that hour. Unless of course the theoretical arguments involved me watching her body twist and turn in very alluring directions and poses. If so then I was on fire!!