Meeting a Neighbor's Needs

By: Qwillia Rain

Chapter One

I met George when I moved into my apartment after graduating college. Lest I misrepresent myself, I wasn’t your typical new grad. I had put college off after high school and had just celebrated my thirtieth birthday a month before I received my Bachelor’s degree. Now all I needed was a teaching contract before the summer ended and I’d feel like a bona fide grown-up.

The day I moved in, one of my girlfriends helped me. Lugging my queen-size mattress up the two flights of stairs, we were laughing and joking, not really paying attention to our surroundings. With me on the front end, my back to the hallway, and Olive on the other, I didn’t see my neighbor until I slammed into him.

The shock of electricity zipping through my body as my back nestled against his front, the warmth of his arm as it wrapped around my waist, his palm spread over my lower belly, the tips of his ring and little finger pressing over my pussy -- all stole my breath for a moment. Once I recovered it, his scent enveloped and seduced my senses, and the sharp tang of freshly washed skin and male musk triggered a primal attraction I had no control over.

2 Qwillia Rain

“Careful there.” The deep timbre of his voice and his warning chuckle had my heart slamming against my ribs. His other hand grasped the mattress to keep it from tumbling Olive over. “Just moving in?” he asked.

The top of my head reached his shoulder, which was broad and firmly muscled. Tilting my head and nodding, I turned. He seemed reluctant to release me. Withdrawing first the hand holding the mattress, his fingers stroked my breast, bringing the nipple to a taut, swollen peak, making me wonder if he’d experienced the same primitive response. Then his other hand caressed my hip as he let go of my waist. I swallowed an aroused moan and smiled up at him. “Yes. Number twenty-five.”

I was quick to notice the vague resemblance he bore to George Clooney, and from the expression on Olive’s face, she recognized it as well. His lopsided grin, dark green eyes, and wavy black hair, lightly sprinkled with gray and flopping rakishly over his forehead, just increased the similarities.

He tipped his head toward the door behind him. “I’m in twenty-six. If you need any help, give me a holler.”

We exchanged names -- his really was George -- and all of us laughed about his resemblance to the actor. A few more minutes of chitchat followed. When I mentioned needing to get back to moving, he stepped closer to his apartment so we could pass.

Over the next few hours, Olive and I spotted him numerous times as we lugged boxes up and down the stairs. For the ones that were obviously very heavy, he would immediately relieve us of our burden and take them into my one-bedroom apartment for me. Olive teased me about him when he was out of earshot, and though I laughed it off, my body grew hot just thinking about him. If I hadn’t had so much work to do getting my things moved in, I would have taken the time to change my wet panties after I creamed them the first time an image of George sliding his cock into my pussy made me forget what I was doing.

Meeting a Neighbor’s Needs


Of course, my fantasy played through my head repeatedly that first night in my new home. While showering away the dust and sweat from hauling furniture and boxes up two flights of stairs, I let the warm water soak away the aches in my shoulders, back, and legs.

Between my thighs, though, another ache built as I imagined George stripping down and stepping into the shower with me.

In my mind, calloused hands slid over my tingling breasts, tugging and pinching the beaded nipples while the heat of his thick cock poked at my ass. With his extra height, he’d have to crouch to align the head of his shaft with my pussy. Wet as I was, it still surprised me when my fantasy George straightened, pressing every inch of his thick length deep into my eager sheath.

Even at my age, I wasn’t an overly experienced woman. I could count the number of lovers I’d had on one hand, with a couple of fingers left over. None of them held the girth or finesse the make-believe George did. The scent of his body had stirred my libido even before I laid eyes on him. And afterward, it was no surprise to me that he featured in my erotic imaginings as the warm water poured over my body.

Letting the water pound down on my pinkening flesh, I slid my hands between my thighs, gently stroking the damp lips apart before circling and pressing on the tight little nubbin tucked away beneath its hood. Coaxing it out with smooth motions, I could feel the beat of my heart thudding through the knob. The heat of my pussy dripped over my hand as my imaginings grew even more erotic. The thrust of my fingers into my sopping channel set the pace I fantasized George would use -- hard and fast. Even as the contractions squeezed my fingers and the tingle of orgasm spread from my belly outward, something warned me that the climax I’d induced would be nothing when compared to one brought on by George.