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So when my friend and I moved into that small brick house, we had no idea who our neighbours were going to be. We had been friends since highschool and planned to be on our own once we graduated college. Kathleen and I were inseparable and we always had a great time partying together. We were used to partying in college a lot, enjoying the remainder of our young adulthood and now ready to take on responsibility. We still liked to party though. Unfortunately for us, the neighbourhood we moved into consisted of a lot of older, conservative (and religious) folk! So we really had to calm things down. We could still have friends over, but we couldn’t bring the stereo outside. There were a lot of “restrictions” that weren’t “real”, in the sense of a legal incident, but we wanted to be responsible citizens and not be the bane of the neighborhood’s existence. We both hold part time jobs. Kathleen works at a coffee shop and I work at a sex shop. Everyone envies my job. And I gloat every time I talk about it. I learn a lot about my body, what my future sexual relationships might be like, and what feels good to people. I feel that is important for everyone. I am a very sexual young woman. I enjoy masturbation and endless self-pleasure. It feels like ages since I’ve been pleasured by a man and for the time being, I wasn’t seeming to be getting any action where I was living! We have our own bedrooms, thank god, so there are days when I come home from work, and think nothing of lubing up the soft silicone coating of a 7-inch vibrator, and softly but firmly pushing it into the hungry abyss of my moist, vacant pussy. It all happened that one humid morning in June. The mist kissed the ground very sensually as the grass was left wet from its touch. I was kind of in the mood for that. I was working days that day, six hours. I stepped into the kitchen and poured myself a glass of orange juice. I was still a bit groggy from my alarm Anadolu Yakası Escort clock but that would all soon change. I would shower, get into my uniform and be on my way. I only lived a short distance from work so I was able to walk there. And the dress code was pretty lax, so they had no problem with me wearing shorts and a black t shirt. Then I noticed something interesting. Next door to us, there was a moving van. Large items came out of the back of the truck about 10 minutes later. A futon, computer desk, TV, the normal items. I guessed the new owner of the house to be about 30 years old. No one on our street has a computer. So that was a nice change indeed. Then, from helping one of the men carry the futon, I thought I saw our new neighbour. He was gorgeous, from where I was standing. About 5’7 and 160 lbs. His hair appeared to be medium brown, short and wavy. He was wearing an R.E.M t shirt and a pair of Bermuda shorts. That brief fantasy of me talking to him was soon cut short my my over-processing and realistic brain. Forget it girl, he’s probably married. I soon had forgot about it and sauntered off to the shower. I note that when people are usually naked, (especially in erotic literature) they describe themselves and say their name. So I think I will follow suit. My name is Elizabeth de Groot. What is a naked body without a name? So there, we’ve met. Now for the more interesting part, as I step into the cold, prisonlike shower- with the concrete floor and plastic curtain. I turn on the water, and as it takes about 5 minutes for it to heat up, I leave it to that and disrobe my vulnerable, depraved body and hang my dressing gown on the hook on the door. I examine myself, just by looking in the mirror for a few minutes. I don’t think I have a bad body at all. There is a ceiling to floor mirror in the bathroom, so I can see myself fully and at the same time, Anadolu Yakası Escort Bayan give you a better description. My reddish brown hair was a little messy from getting out of bed. My eyes were still tired and had dark half-moons under them. But the rest of me was awake and well. My natural tanned skin (my West Indies heritage) made nice contrast with my Dutch heritage. I’ve always been called somewhat exotic. My breasts are a very full C/D cup topped with medium round coffee colored nipples. My stomach- well, there’s something we need to work on- a bit of a bulge. I wish I knew how to carry my weight better. It’s not easy being short. My legs are shapely and smooth, though and what meets in the middle is a soft, black haired cat that purrs when you stroke her.The shower has probably warmed by now. So, I stepped in. The water felt so nice. It warmed my sexual aura and sensations. It awakened the roots of my hair as the warm rain massaged my scalp. My back took a light massage as well. I love stepping into such a mysterious and sensual environment. Taking a shower purges my thoughts and encourages me to talk and sing if I want to. I run mango scented shampoo through my auburn tresses, as a couple generous dollops land on my tits. This scenario arouses me as one of my free hands run down to my throbbing, needy clit. The water that drips from my fingertips feels sensational on that area of my body as I lightly circle the swollen jewel that rests between the folds of my rosy labia. I imagine getting fucked, pumped and eaten by a gorgeous foreign man as I speak the universal language of “yes”. I was moaning like a wild animal. The water torrented on my flesh and the floor of the shower. I was soon on my back, writhing like an bitch in heat, my ass abrased on the sandy concrete. I didn’t care. I was having orgasm after orgasm. My muscles soon relaxed and I flooded Escort Anadolu Yakası a stream of bittersweet love juice down the drain. Too bad that hot neighbour wasn’t lapping it up. I thought, a devilish smile spreading across my face. Totally relaxed and somewhat annihilated, I stepped out of the shower. I saw things anew that day. I felt grateful and happy to be alive despite the lack of pleasure in my life. Don’t think like a silly teenager, I told myself. Sex isn’t everything. I just saw it as something that would be next in my life. I blow dried my hair and put on my uniform. * * * At least I just had to work six hours. The pool was waiting for me, for my body to break its pristine waters and to lap up my fluids as the shower drain did. I laid out on my bed, stretched out and happy. My hand saunters over my clothed pubic region, so I strip out of my uniform and masturbate impulsively in front of the window. I am totally unaware of the world outside. I have no Venetian blinds on my window so it is possible that the whole world can see! I ferociously pump my vagina with two fingers, easily finding my g-spot and having an earth shattering orgasm, juice leaking down my hand and onto the hardwood floor. I’ll clean that up later, I tell myself coyly. Feeling great, I get changed into my black bikini and go to the pool, bringing some sun block, a beach towel, my trusty b.o.b., and a World War 2 romance novel. I soon reach a point in the book where the married couple is having sex before the husband leaves to fight the Germans. Although it is just a simple romance novel, I feel the need to masturbate, yet again. I roll the dial of the sleek, black vibrator between my thumb and forefinger. It is a good inch and a half in diameter. It was the most elegant looking toy I’ve ever seen. Jewels studded the base. When I turned it on, it produced a baritone rumble that deepened when it entered the murky cavern of my vagina. I feel totally uninhibited as autoeroticism should be. I didn’t need any lube. My pussy was naturally wet and ready for anything. I slowly worked the toy in and out of my wet slit. I moaned softly as the vibrations became deeper and deeper. “Mmmm” I purred. The feeling was divine. There was no one around, not that I knew of anyways.
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