I really should chat with my neighbors more often [M27/F20s] [sex] [blowjob] [just met]

My Saturday night is spilling over into Sunday morning, a quarter past midnight, when I dance my way from my car, up the stairs, and into my apartment. The track I'd been bumping on the drive home lingers in my head as I hum and sway to keep it alive. With a twist of my hips, I toss my bag to the couch. It bounces off the cushion and onto the floor, but I don't care. I toss my jacket over the little wicker coffee table, where it stays put, and I slide my way into my kitchen. With a single extended index finger, I flip open the pantry, review my options, and make my decision: nacho cheese tortilla chips. A delectable choice.

Happy and high on life, I munch my snack and head into my living room, on a beeline towards the warm glow of my PC's two big screens and shining rainbow keyboard. En route, I make a quick, perfunctory glance out my sliding glass door — checking up on the night, observing its progression. My balcony is empty as always. But beyond that, across the lawns below bisected by the paved pathway, on the balcony of the buildings across from mine, I spot my neighbor. She's leaning against the railing, sipping beer from a can, looking horrifically cute.

It's not a big deal that she's cute, it's just the way things are around here. Downstairs, below me, is the old lady with a dozen cats who watches home shopping network on full volume all day long. The front door opposite mine is the single dad with two teenage boys and a penchant for donuts. Between my apartment and my car is the bearded guy who's always in a hurry with the dog that barks too much. And in the building across the pathway is the apartment with the cute girl. I know who my neighbors are only by these surface attributes, the things you can tell just by living in proximity. I've never spoken to any of them.

But, tonight? When I'm riding high? To hell with that. I don't always have to be a recluse. I change directions and head out onto my balcony, shoot a friendly smile her way, and eat a chip. I call out across the gap, "Celebrating?"

Unhurriedly, her attention shifts my direction. She processes the situation with melancholy. Then she chuckles quietly, as if to herself. Her voice is low and I have to strain to hear it. "Something like that."

She's in a black zipped-up sweater, the hood pulled over her head, her long blond hair slipping out over her shoulders. She's svelte, with a trim figure and a pretty face. A jeweled stud in her nose catches the light from the pathway below, sparkles pinkish white as it reflects.

I really have no business chatting up a woman this hot. But she's so far out of my league that I'm not intimidated, I'm really just being friendly. I say, "Well, I'm celebrating,"

"Oh?" she raises her eyebrows, only half interested, "What're you celebrating?"

"You're going to think it's super nerdy. Like, ridiculously nerdy."

She laughs, dimples forming on her cheeks. "You never know."

"It might need some explanation."

"Now you're just making me curious," she says, chin tucked, grinning my way, attention wholly mine.

Damn, if she isn't cute. But I don't let it phase me, and I announce, "I beat a board game."

She's smooth, making her scoff turn into a chuckle. "A board game?" It comes with a look, the one where she realizes I wasn't kidding about the nerd thing.

But I'm used to the look, knew to expect it. "Yep. A legacy game, me and my friends. We've been working on it for months. And tonight, after about 50 hours, we finally won. Complete victory."

She laughs again, more genuine, less mocking. "Well, I can't say I totally understand, but sounds worth of congratulations." She holds out her beer in a toast, takes a sip. And as I meet her toast with a tortilla chip, it's subtle but I catch it, her gaze dropping, her smile drooping. She's sad.

"Thanks," I frown, uncertain what do with this new information I've gleaned, "So, uh, how bout you?"

She shrugs, looking wistful. She tucks her hair behind her ears and pulls her elbows in tight. Tilting her beer back, she swigs and gulps it down. With her sleeve, she wipes her mouth clean before belching. "Just getting drunk."

Her brazen crudeness defies my expectations, surprises me, and I laugh. "Cheers to that." I eat another chip.

Her gaze flits to my snack. She bites her lip like she's thinking something through. Then our eyes meet. "I'll trade ya. Beer for some chips."

I pause. I don't really want a beer, but the deal seems fair, and maybe the chips will make her feel less sad. "Sure," I say, "But, uh–" I reach out over the railing and into the warm night air, demonstrating that our balconies are too far apart, "I can't reach across."

She laughs again and rolls her eyes. "I think you're gonna have to walk them over here."

"Oh," I make an awkward chuckle sound, "Yeah, duh."

So I'm walking over to the cute girl's apartment, middle of the night, to bring her some chips. That's a normal thing people do, right? The neighborly thing?

Lock my front door behind me, down the stairs, out along the path between the lawns. A warm breeze picks up, rustles the leaves on the trees but spares the bushes. She grins down at me from above as I pass across the path.

At the point I start up her stairs, I remember the guy. Muscular and athletic, covered in tattoos, never without a baseball cap in immaculate condition. He's probably not a fan of strange men coming to visit in the middle of the night. He lives with the cute girl, right? When's the last time I saw him? My feet have ignored my worries. They carry me up the flight of stairs, mirror image from my own, and to a door which is cracked open. "Uh, hello?"

The cute neighbor girl appears on the other side, studying me through narrowed eyes. Were her leggings always so tight? Was her sweatshirt already unzipped and showing cleavage? She seemed so grand from far away, so bigger-than-life. But close up, she's rendered just a young woman, one that I tower over, a reality for which I'm unprepared. "You're not a creep, are you?" she says, "Romeo always said you were a creep."

I manage a shrug, tongue thick in my mouth. "Who's Romeo?"

She sighs and shakes her head. "Forget I said anything, he's just an asshole. I shouldn't ever have listened to him anyway. So, like, come in. Sit down. Whatever." She pushes past me, closes the door behind me.

"Sure." I sit on her couch and look around, taking it all in. "Um, nice place." It's just like mine, except where mine's furnished with cheap particle board shelves and tables and video game posters, hers is filled with tasteful cabinets and color-coordinated photos of the forest. And everywhere I look, there's a potted plant or a flower in a vase or a hanging fern.

She laughs, waving my comment away. "Here's your beer." She takes a can from the pouch on her sweater and pushes it into my hand, sitting next to me as she does so. Right next to me. Her leg rubs against my leg, her shoulder meets my shoulder.

As I pop open the top, I set the bag I've been holding down on the table in front of us, completing our transaction. "The, um, chips."

"Thanks." She takes one, bites into it. I hear every bit of the crunch, of her jaw working to crush it. Her face is right there in front of me.

I take a big gigantic gulp from the beer.

"Your friends," she says, "The ones you play games with, you all get along?"

"I mean, yeah."

"Like, everyone's cool? No one ever threatens to beat anyone up, or, like, sleeps with each other's boyfriends?"

"No," I grin nervously, "I mean, yeah, everyone's cool. Nothing like that."

She takes another chip and sighs, looking into the distance. "Sounds nice."

"Sorry," I say.

"For what?"

"For whatever happened. I mean, I know you don't know me or anything but there's obviously some drama, and I can… I can… uh… um…"

"You're too nice," she says, cutting me off by sitting on my lap, straddling me on her couch.

"It's just the way I am," I whisper, eyes wide, voice breathy.

"I don't need someone to talk to," she says, "I need someone to make out with."

Her tight, round ass is on my thighs. Her slender hips are pressed against mine. She's looking down at me with parted lips, a strand of blond hair drifting in front of eyes that pierce me with their desire. My chest heaves. I take another big swill from my beer and lean forward to set it down next to the chips behind her.

She mistakes this for me leaning in to kiss, and she wraps her arms around my chest, pulls us together. Her lips are so soft, her tongue so sweet in my mouth.

My head swims. I'm making out with my cute neighbor! My hands I find are holding onto her for dear life, gripping into her ass. I'm embarrassed by my boldness, about to make myself pull away. But she writhes, seeming to like it, cherishing my need, moaning into my mouth.

Her smell — beer and chips and overpowering feminine mystique, which I never thought was real but oh my god is it here, right now — fills my head, puts me under her spell. I let myself be swept in, be taken away. I don't know her, but I want her, and here I can have her.

I almost whimper as she pulls back. I sink into her couch, afraid I've done something wrong. But all she's doing, I come to see, is taking off her sweater, tossing it away. She smiles down at me, her sexy shoulders bare under the strings of her white tank top.

"Holy fuck, you're hot," I mutter.

Her grin spreads. And then up over her head goes her tank top, and in front of me, naked from the waste up, is a girl so far out of my league I never even bothered fantasizing about her. It's a good thing my ribs are strong, because I can feel my heart thumping, trying to break free.

"You ok?" she giggles.

"Never better." It comes out barely a whisper.

She laughs, but I lean up and we're making out again, her slender, perky, perfect breasts right there against me. She pushes my face down to her chest. I suck on a nipple and finger the other, then swap, then again.

"You're really fucking hard, you know that?"

I look down, see the giant erection tenting my pants. "Oh, uh…"

"Take your clothes off," she laughs, "Before you tear a hole in them."

I meet her eyes, still processing what she said, what she means by it. The palest blue, they're kind, inviting, sober. Nothing that I expected. Everything that makes me want her even more.

I get my t-shirt off, my jeans and shorts down to my knees before she grows impatient and pushes me back down onto her couch. She climbs back onto my lap, once again straddling me, but this time with two fists gripping my erection. I shudder in pleasure from the way she eagerly pumps my bulging cock. She yanks with expert precision, thumbs dragging up my underside, fingertips tickling my balls.

"I wanna fuck you," I groan.

"I thought you'd never ask," she grins.

A condom's in her hand, I don't know where it came from. One moment she was empty handed, the next she's rolling the thin latex down my massive erection, decorating me with a pink plastic that means only one thing. I can't help but marvel at my display of lust, at how hard I am.

I don't have long, though, because she's back and as naked as I am, sitting down on me, squeezing my balls. She slides her hand up to my shaft and lowers herself down closer, closer, closer, until I feel that heavenly contact, that warm admittance to her ready sex.

We gasp together as she sinks onto my cock. She's powerfully tight and intensely hot, and I lay back as she takes control. She squeezes her thighs, pulling up, then relaxes, dropping back down. Each of her thrusts takes me deeper, each reentry is more pleasurable.

Her cheeks grown flush, she moans as she fucks me, "Holy hell, you're deep. You're, like, so fucking far inside me."

I knead her ass, my grip making a ring around her waist as I dig my fingers into the flesh of her butt. Her tits bounce in my face, pert little nipples hypnotizing me as they recoil. Her hair splays wildly, long white-blond strands teasing her belly.

It's fantastic, having this girl ride me, having her use me like this. But I know it's not all that she wants, I know it's not all I can give her.

I slide my grip up, pulling her into me. She sucks in a surprised breath as I roll us over. With eyes wide in anticipation, she looks up at me. I lean over her and grab her tits, squeezing them and filling my palms. I grit my teeth and drive my cock all the way inside her.

She cries out wordlessly, her eyes fluttering. I do it again. And then again, and again. Her arms flop wildly to her sides, her chest heaves, her eyes lose their focus. "Fuck," she eventually manages to say, "Oh… fuck… I thought you were going to make me do all the work."

What do you say to that? I smile to myself, "That was just foreplay."

Her ivory skin reddens sleek with sweat, shiny and smooth as beads of perspiration streak down her chest. I read my thrusts on her face, each new skewering making her gasp, making her cheeks curl up. Her pleasure is a thrill, is an addiction. I prop a leg up, bettering my angle. I drive myself down into her, putting my weight into it, pushing in until my hips meet hers.

She loves it, crying out for more. I oblige. And then she's climaxing on my dick, thighs quivering, eyes glassy and wide. "Ohmigod…" she moans.

I groan, loudly, her pleasure triggering mine. I'm cumming too. I push my cock fully inside her, holding us together, two bodies become one.

"Ohmigod," she says again, panting, sucking down air, "Ohmigod."

Her feet clench, her thighs twitch. Her pussy spasms, tight and hot, milking me dry. Her jaw hangs slack, lips pink and moist, eyes locked on mine.

I gasp down a breath and lean in to give her another kiss before pulling out, collapsing to the floor. "I, uh… that was good," I say, the roar of my pulse deafening me.

"Yeah, I'll say." She lays limp, expression dazed. "Holy hell."

A minute passes, and I start to recover. I grab my clothes, wadding them up in my hands as I stumble off to her bathroom. When I come out, she's dressed too. I avoid eye contact, not sure what comes next, and I head for her door. "I think I should go home now," I say.

"Wait," she grabs hold of my hand, squeezes it in hers, pulling me back, "I want to ask you something."

She asks me something.

Tuesday night and I'm at my buddy's house. It's board game night — the casual group, not the legacy game group — and she's by my side, making a quick study of the rules and explanations of strategy. Nobody's asked why she's here, they're all just happy to have another player. And although I have gotten a few sidelong glances, it's probably because of how relaxed I am.

I'm relaxed for the same reason I'm late, because when she showed up at my door ready to go, we'd gotten distracted. We'd gotten distracted when she said, "That was so hot, the other night. I keep touching myself whenever I think about it."

I choked, coughed, goggled at her.

"What?" she grinned, "You like that?"

In a move that was totally not like me, I grabbed her and kissed her. She seemed to like it, until she shoved me back onto my recliner.

"Sorry," I started to say, thankfully stopping the words before they passed my lips. Instead what I said was nothing, just a squeak, eyes widening as she knelt down on the ground in front of me.

She pushed my legs apart, running her hands up my slacks, towards my crotch. "Before we leave," she said, "I want to thank you."

My hands splayed wide, my fingers dug into the armrests, holding on for dear life.

She giggled, opening my fly, pulling my cock free. With eyes sparkling, she tugged me hard. Not that it took much effort. "I think you'll find," she said, "That I'm quite good at this."

I whimpered.

She rubbed my glans on her lips, smearing precum across them, then licking them clean.

"Oh, fuck," I muttered, gasping for air.

She stuck her tongue out, showing me the spit pooling on the tip, then placed it on my balls. Slowly and deliberately, she dragged it up the length of my shaft, flicking it in circles around my tip.

I shuddered.

She tucked her chin and pouted, "Do you not like it?"

"I love it," I whispered — all I could manage, "You're beautiful."

Her grin returned, ear to ear. "Thanks," she giggled. Then she licked again up the full length of my erection, sending me to heaven.

By the time she spread her lips wide and took my shaft in her mouth, my cock was so hard I was surprised there was any blood left for the rest of my body. She curled her hand around my balls, cupping them as more and more of my dick disappeared inside her.

When, a few minutes of furious sucking and slurping and slobbering on my cock later, she pushed me in farther, taking me down her throat, I groaned. I was barely able to hold back, but I wrestled for self-control, fighting to not succumb to pleasure, to hold her pale blue gaze.

But she really was an expert, pushing until her lips reached my base, tickling my sac with her fingertips.

"Fuck!" I moaned, the only word left in my vocabulary. My cock throbbed and balls tensed, and even with her lips spread wide I could see the smile there as my cum shot down her throat and filled her belly.

When she pulled off, she didn't even seem phased. "I'm going to go clean up, ok?" she said, perky and nonchalant as if what just happened wasn't the most transcendent blowjob I've ever received, "Then we can go?"

"Sure," I said, "Yeah."

"Just so you know," I said to her on the car ride over here, riding shotgun as she drove, "I'm a softy. A big ole softy."

"So?"

"So if you keep that up," I said, "I'm liable to do something awkward, like ask you on a date."

We were at a red light, and she sneaked me a grin. "Ok," she said, "Let's go on a date." She giggled.