Pierre was at it again. All I could hear was panting, moaning, groaning, screaming, crying, and banging. The incessant banging up against my bedroom wall with the vibrations shaking my bed like a seven-point-five scale earthquake. Today’s tart on the menu was Clarisse. How did I know? Did I have ESP? No, all I could hear penetrating through the wall was “yes, Clarisse, oh Clarisse, suck it Clarisse, you’re about to make me come Clarisse…” I wanted to yell out, “Oh hell, Clarisse, would you hurry up and get the man to blow so the two of you can shut up?” That would show them!
Do I sound jealous? Well, I’ll admit, to a degree I am. Pierre moved in to the apartment next door to me about six months ago. I could rarely get a glimpse of him at first. Even though I tried hard. Any time I heard his door open or close I would scamper like a rat chasing cheese, trying to catch him before he disappeared into the abyss of the hallway or the seclusion of his abode. I never caught him. One day, purely by accident, I got what I had been waiting for.
I had the day off for a change, and decided to lounge around the house. I barely had combed my hair, let alone put on any decent, respectable clothes. I decided to go pick up the mail, after spotting the mail truck speeding down the block. I was wearing only a bra and a pair of shorts, so I threw on my tank top, grabbed my keys, and hurried down the stairs towards the vestibule. It was early in the day, and everyone was at work. Who would see me? Unfortunately, I ran dead into Mr. Pierre.
I wanted to stop cold in my tracks and run back in the opposite direction, but he was looking right at me as I came sliding around the corner. I know my heart stopped beating, when he laid those big, jeweled gray and green eyes on me. I couldn’t breathe, until he spoke to me.
He smiled. Ooooh, sexy. The mellifluous sound of his voice was entrancing. Maybe he was a singer.
“Good morning,” I breathed, trying to regain my composure. “You’re the new guy in 303, right?”
“Yes, just moved in. My name is Pierre. And which one is yours?” He pointed to the mailboxes.
“I’m your next-door-neighbor. I’m 301. My name is Celli.”
He smiled, and again, I almost fell out on the floor. The man was gushing sex appeal.
“Celli, that’s interesting. I like it. How long have you lived here?” His eyes roamed around my barely-clad body.
My mouth had turned into cotton, causing me to nearly cough out the words. “Oh, uh, about three years. This building has gone through a lot of changes. Consider yourself lucky to be moving in after all the rehabbing!”
“That sounds crazy. You’ll have to fill me in on all the details. Well, I gotta run. Hope I’ll be seeing you around, Celli.”
He closed his mailbox, stuffing his mail inside his briefcase. He smiled again. I heard a symphony of violins and cellos.
“Ok, nice meeting you Pierre.”
I watched his long legs glide towards the front door, and I finally got my heart to start back working properly. He was the most gorgeous man I had seen in ages. He was tall, well built, well proportioned, well dressed, smelled good, and he had those sexy, smoky eyes. He was hypnotizing. And he lived next door to me! And he caught me looking like a street person. I kicked myself as I trudged back to my apartment, hoping he didn’t think I was some kind of troll.
About a week later, I saw him again, but he had a chick hanging on his arm. Some model-looking number with gigantic boobs, and an inflated butt. He grinned and spoke, but his date slung her hair at me, as if to taunt me. Heiffer. But she wasn’t the only one. Apparently, he had a never ending cache of girls, a different one for each day of the week. And from the sounds of what went on behind his door, he had the stamina of a race horse.
Take for instance, his date last night, Marla. I just happened to see her coming up the stairs, as I stood peeping through my peep hole, you know, just holding down the safety of the building. She was another knockout, with a tall, hourglass figure, dark hair hanging down her back, (weaved or otherwise), and a café- au -lait complexion. Where did he find these girls? They made the average woman, such as myself, look like Cinderella on her worse day. But she got a whole evening with the delightful, delectable, Pierre.
They enjoyed dinner out on his balcony (I just happened to be out there watering my plants), and then I heard her giggling as they returned to the privacy of Pierre’s walls. That was, until they hit his bedroom. Then, I could hear everything, since I was stretched out in my bed eavesdropping, er, resting. Her clothes must have come off fast, because the litany of “Oh Pierre’s” started almost immediately. I don’t know what he was taking, but he had her screaming and scratching for hours. They got me so hot, that I had to have a little release of my own. All I could imagine was the huge erection Pierre must have, especially since Marla had all but sent me a picture of what his dick looked like. And it sounded like the man was hung like Godzilla. If only I could get a camera in that room.
Well, there was finally a lull in the air. Clarisse must have finally caused Pierre to hit his climax, because I heard him groan like a beast in heat, and slowly wind down to a whimper. Now all was calm. For the moment. I laid there with my hand inside my panties again, wondering what it must be like to be pinned under Pierre, feeling his hard body rubbing over mine, his hot lips tasting my skin, and getting him to ram that big, hard…
“Oh Pierre, yesssss baby, fuck my pussy, damn your dick is like chocolate and I can’t get enough!”
I moved my lips, mouthing her words. Here they go again. And there I went again, getting my second-hand orgasm while she got to fuck the real thing. Life was so unfair.
It was going to be a quiet Thursday night, or so I planned. I had stopped at the store on my way home from work, grabbed a bottle of wine, got a fresh baked pizza, and I was ready for a night of movie watching. I had almost lived through another week of craziness on the job, dealing with the addition of some new clients. All I wanted to do now was relax. Instead, I came home to a kitchen floor full of water. Looked like a pipe had burst or something.
“Oh crap! What the hell?” I screeched, loud enough to be heard a few blocks over at least. I had on my new purple suede open-toe pumps and I sure didn’t want to step in all that water and ruin them. I laid my packages down on the dining room table, and walked on tippy toes to my bedroom, to remove the expensive shoes and replace them with gym shoes. As I was coming out, there was a knock at my door.
I took my suit jacket off, threw it on the couch, and hurried to the door. I peeped through my hole to see the face of Pierre standing there. I couldn’t get the door open fast enough.
“Well, Pierre, what brings you by?” I tried my best to sound nonchalant and not vaguely entranced by his sexy stance in front of me.
“Hey Celli. Do you have a lot of water on your floor? My kitchen is swimming, and I just wondered if yours was the same.”
“Yeah, in fact, it is. I just got home to find a lake in my kitchen, I was about to clean it up. You know what caused it?”
“Yes, some faulty pipes. Your kitchen is on the same side as mine, so I figured we might be sharing some lines. I already called a plumber. Want me to have him check your place out too while he’s here? We can share.”
Wow, a sexy prize horse, and thoughtful. Even if he was a gigolo.
“Sure, send him by. That’ll sure save me some time.”
“Want me to help you clean up, since I got my place under control?”
Boy, this was really my lucky day. Had I helped an old lady across the street today?
“I’m not turning down help, come on in and join the fun!”
I opened the door wider to allow him in. He looked around as he walked towards the kitchen.
“Nice place. I like your colors and mix of furniture.” He stopped just in front of the massive pool of standing water.
“Thanks, you’re one of the few guys I know who have actually paid any attention to my décor.”
“Force of habit, I guess. I’m an artist. I do layout work for a magazine, so of course I appreciate good design.” He looked around the room. “You got some mops and a bucket?”
“Oh,” I said snapping back from the private fantasy I was slipping into. “Let me get some.”
I hurried down the hall to my utility closet and returned with cleaning utensils pinching myself to make sure I was awake. Pierre had pulled off his shirt, ready to work in just a tank top and jeans. It was great watching him work. I was trying to keep my mind on the mess, but my eyes were distracted by the way his muscles were flexing beneath his skin as he moved. His arms, shoulders and chest looked like a movable work of art, each time he pulled or pushed the mop across the floor giving me a new pose of his torso. I could easily imagine what he looked like without clothes, and I did. I was getting warm all over, and it wasn’t from the work.
Within an hour the mess was gone. We had traded chit chat while working, and now I had a little more background on Mr. Pierre. I was about to ask about his dating status, but his cell rang. He answered and it was the plumber calling from the lobby.
“Celli, that’s the plumber. Once he’s finished with my place, I’ll send him over to you, ok?”
“Great. And thanks so much for your help Pierre.”
“Don’t mention it. What are neighbors for?”
I put away my mops and buckets, and flopped down on the couch. I wanted to spend more time with Pierre, especially after learning more about him, other than he knew how to move his ass on the mattress. I was bedazzled. My evening was ruined on one front, but I felt tingly that I had finally gotten to know my neighbor up close and personal, instead of just hearing previews through the wall.
The plumber came and left, after sizing up my situation and giving me the estimate to fix it. I couldn’t complain, since it was after hours, and I didn’t get charged for it, thanks to Pierre.
I showered, changed into a tee and shorts, and curled up on the couch watching a movie, thinking about what it would have felt like to put my hands under Pierre’s shirt. Now mind you, I wasn’t deluding myself. I’d probably never get a slice of Pierre. I wasn’t his type. Not that I was bad looking, and I did have a decent figure, but I was a far cry from the model-like girls I saw him with. My 36B’s weren’t going to start any fires, and my ass wasn’t on par with J-Lo’s. I was just average, with my wild, shoulder-length sandy brown spiraling curls that often attracted more attention than I did. So I was content to have spent a little time with him, and now a hot fantasy of my lips pressing against his, my breasts pushing on his tight chest, and my hands pulling out his magnificent dick, which he’d be eager to shove inside my slippery, hot pussy.
A knock at the door brought me out of the clouds, startling me to the point of almost falling off the couch. I collected my senses and groggily headed for the door, yawning. I peeped, and got a nice treat. It was Pierre again.
“Hi Celli, I hope I didn’t wake you?” he asked, watching me try to stifle my next yawn.
“Oh no, I was just dozing a bit, watching a movie. What’s up?”
“I just stopped by to see how it went with the plumber.”
“Oh,” I said, finally coming back fully to my senses, “he’s coming back tomorrow to do the work. Thanks for getting me the discount.”
“No problem.” He rubbed his hand over his partially exposed chest, peeking inside my door. “You know, I noticed you had a bottle of merlot. Since we both had kind of a bad evening, I thought maybe we could share a drink?”
I was floored. Pierre was trying to get himself invited? Gee, what should I say? And it was relatively early, just 9:30. I opened the door to welcome him.
“Sure, I had forgotten that I brought the wine, amidst all the hoopla. Have you eaten anything? Want some cold pizza?”
He laughed. “Sure, cold pizza and wine. That’s a winning combination!”
We ate, we drank, and traded more stories about our jobs. He cocked his head to one side as he spoke, producing deep dimples that lit up his face. He had positioned himself on the floor next to where I was sitting cross-legged on the couch. His hand was on the empty space next to my legs, and occasionally as he talked he touched me, tracing his fingers lightly along my leg and up my thigh. I felt the heat rising between my lips, and the hair on the back of my neck was standing at attention from the shocks charging through my body. My arousal intensified thinking about the ways he had those girls screaming night after night. I finally got up the nerve to ask about the revolving door to his bedroom.
“So, you’re a pretty popular boy, Mr. Pierre. What happened that you don’t have a date tonight?” I smiled, taking another sip of wine from my glass.
I think he actually blushed. “Well, I decided to have a ‘me’ night. In my line of work, I meet a lot of girls, so I get a lot of dates. Hope I don’t disturb you.”
I laughed. “Oh no, not at all. I barely hear anything.” I peered at him over my glass, smirking.
He shifted in his place on the floor next to my crossed legs. His face got a little flushed.
“Just what have you heard?” He looked inquisitive.
I licked my lips. “Oh, just a lot of heavy breathing, groaning and grunting. I figured you were exercising or something.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, ok.” He paused, rubbing his hand across his chin, then slowly reaching for my leg, running his hand over my calf. “What you heard, did it turn you on?”
He totally caught me off guard. My mouth had to have dropped open. Where did that come from? I didn’t even know what to say, since of course, I had been right there, having sex with him in my own special way. I decided to play dumb.
“What do you mean? I didn’t hear that much.”
His hand slid up a little farther along my leg, up to my knee, and on my thigh. “I’m sure you heard plenty.”
Was he trying to brag? I didn’t know where he was going with his line of questioning, but his hand was moving up along the curve of my skin. He was rubbing up slowly, making little circular motions, and it was tickling me and exciting me at the same time. My clit was banging against my panties, tapping out a message for me to let his fingers in. His hand inched dangerously closer to the hem of my shorts.
“I know you heard plenty, because I’ve heard you.”
I shook my head, as he moved his body just slightly closer to mine.
“What do you mean, you heard me? I wasn’t doing anything. Nobody was in my room.”
He grinned, as he turned to face me, getting on his knees in front of me. His hands finally made their destination, sliding under my shorts and fingering the edge of my panties. My pussy was melting, anticipating his touch as he brushed his fingers over the moistened crotch of the lace. The throbbing was frantic and I couldn’t control my breathing. Suddenly I felt the heat from his lips on my neck, and his other hand was behind my head, fingers running through my hair.
“I heard you moaning, working yourself into an orgasm, late one night, when everything was quiet.” He had his lips right at my ear, almost whispering.
I wanted to touch him, I was compelled to reach my hand out, but a part of me felt I should hold back. After all, this was the gigolo who had the sexiest women around. Why the hell was he seducing me?
“You, you heard me?” I didn’t know I had gotten that loud.
“Yes, I heard you, and it was the sweetest sound. I wanted to come join you. You had me harder than a brick. And now that I know your sexy ass a little better, I really want to join you.”
I felt his thick, soft lips sinking into mine. I had no time to protest, not that I wanted to. It was a hot, wet kiss, and it set me on fire. He pulled me into his body, as his fingers finally breached the boundaries of my panties, crawling over my mound. His tongue invaded my mouth, as his fingers plunged inside the scorching heat of my walls, rubbing back and forth over my quivering clit, teasing me as he sucked my tongue.
I gave up the fight and let my hands explore the surface of his skin, enjoying the mountains of muscle protruding from the scant covering of his tee. He felt just as I had imagined, and his touch on my pussy provoked me, as his mouth over mine muffled the moans I was trying to hold back. I tried to keep from giving myself over to him totally, but again collapsed when he took his teeth and pulled my shirt up over my breasts. He devoured them, slowly pulling my nipples between his teeth, circling his tongue over their stiffness. I thought I was going to have an orgasm right then and there, the sensation felt so titillating.
“Your tongue is magical,” I gasped. I found myself grabbing his hair and holding his lips on me there, feeling the hot, wet tickling sensation that was driving shocks into my pussy and finally made me come. His fingers finally came out for air.
“Damn baby, you’re hotter than I ever imagined. Your body is responding to me and it’s wild. I want to taste you.”
He pushed my hand down inside his sweat pants, and he was hard as that brick he mentioned. And he was huge. Long and thick. I wanted him to fuck me In the worst way, but he was on his way down, licking me down the middle of my body and pulling my shorts and panties off as he got his head down to my pelvis. My clit was jumping out of my body, as he licked the insides or my thighs. He pulled my legs apart and pulled my hips towards him, centering me right on his tongue. I was clawing at the couch, fighting against him, as he pulled my hips in closer, holding me in place.
“Oh shit, Pierre, yessssss, oh yeah, lick it right there…”
I was in another world, as the man swirled his tongue over my clit, in and out of my hot slit and licking over my lips, driving me right into another drenching explosion. His tongue vibrated against my head like the strings on a harp, using just the right tension, as if he was feeling what I was feeling.
Suddenly he pushed off me, giving himself room enough to get his sweats off, as I pulled his tee over his head. I wanted to take the time to admire the planes of muscle over his chest and stomach, but I had no time. I barely blinked and Pierre had sheathed himself and was plunging that big, delicious dick up in me, pushing past the walls of muscles that started clamping down on him, even though I was wetter than a water slide.
“Celli, damn you feel good, you’re broiling baby. Gonna make me come faster than I want to,” he grunted.
He pulled my legs wider, pushing himself up in me deeper. He was hitting the back of my wall, and it was driving me crazy. I was gasping and screaming, as he hit my spot. I felt wave after wave of pleasure, especially after I started rubbing my clit while he was plunging me, sliding between my lips like he was in a trance. I had another orgasm, dousing his dick with my hotness, and it drove him into a frenzied release. He had crazy moves, pinning me beneath his weight, pressing his pelvis against mine as he rocked and gyrated his hips, making his dick dance inside me like I never felt before. Even as we came, we continued to throw our hips back and forth meeting each others thrusts, right until he drove me to another orgasm. Damn, I never came so hard and so many times. He really was a god, and I was ready to bow down in reverence.
When he could finally breathe enough to speak, he hit me with those fabulous lips again, and he was ready for the next act.
“Celli, let’s go to your bedroom. I want to fuck you until you scream like you did that night, right where you were stretched out.”
My pussy was beat down, but the dirty way he slipped those words in my ear had my clit standing at attention again. I obediently followed, as he grabbed my hand and led me to my bed.
He entered the darkness of my room, and gently laid me on the bed, pulling my legs as far apart as they would spread. He laid his tongue flat against my clit, licking me up and down like I was candy. I could hardly remember my name. Then he came up, crawling over me, licking over me, slowly making his way to my lips again.
“Baby, I want to see you get off. I want to see you stick your fingers in your pussy and make yourself come, just like you do at night.” He was sitting up over me now, like he was waiting for the show to begin.
I felt weird. I had never done that in front of any man before.
“Pierre, I don’t know, I don’t feel right…”
“Baby, just close you eyes and pretend I’m on the other side of that wall, just like you always do.”
He leaned back down and kissed me wildly, taking my hand and pushing it down between my legs. His tongue got me so hot that I did forget, and I started working my pussy like I always did. He sat back up to watch me, using the light streaming in through my window. I felt his hands sliding over my thighs, then I heard him pumping his own dick, as I peeked to see what he was doing. His eyes were trained on me, as I started attacking my clit furiously, getting hotter as I watched him handle that enormous cock of his. I was imagining how it felt inside me, and suddenly it was inside me, just the head. Pierre was leaning back over me, whispering in my ear, biting on my neck, and teasing me with the head of his dick playing at the hot, slippery opening of my pussy.
“Baby, you like getting off like that? Get it good and wet Celli, make it come, so I can fuck the shit out of you.”
He pushed his dick in a little farther, and he plunged his tongue between my lips deeper, almost immediately causing the explosion he was waiting for. I screamed out, just as he pushed himself all the way in, rubbing his hands all over my body, then sliding his hot, sweaty torso down into mine. His dick was like a lightening rod, electrifying my body with a level of pleasure I never experienced. He pulled my legs up, locking them in place, as we rocked against each other, fucking each other like power drills. My pussy felt like the inner core of the sun, with his dick churning my heat until I erupted again with the force and energy of a solar flare. He had fucked me raw, with those wild hips of his. I was ready to collapse, just as he grabbed me tight, holding me steady as his body shook and shuddered.
“Damn, Celli, fuck, you got me coming hard, awwww fuck…”
I felt his dick gushing inside me like a river. I fell back, and he fell on top of me, finally letting his body be still, as he buried my nipples between his lips and tongue. My voice was gone, and even if I could have spoken, I didn’t even have energy left to move my lips. But I felt like I had entered into a different realm, like I had transcended out of my body. Damn, now I knew why those girls were screaming the way they were. Pierre was a sex machine.
I laid there listening to Pierre’s labored breathing, while my pussy lips throbbed, still recovering from his attack. Never thought I would have joined the ranks of Pierre’s stable, finally getting to experience what I could only listen to and dream of. I felt him moving against me, with his lips kissing a path back up to mine.
“Want another ride?” he purred, pressing his recovered dick between my legs.
How could I refuse? It was good having the naughty Pierre as my neighbor.
Bonus Read: “Thanks Mrs. Robinson!” – Lacey has an unexpected tasty treat after-work with her young, strapping co-worker…click here to read
© by JY Davis. All rights reserved.