The Neighbor
Penelope Waters
Penelope Waters
Copyright 2014 Penelope Waters
All right reserved
All characters within this story are works of fiction and are willing participants in the sexual conduct contained within. They are all 18 years of age or older.
A QUICK WORD FROM PENELOPE WATERS
Thank you for reading another one of my stories and supporting an independent author. Anyone with a Kindle Unlimited subscription can now read all of my stories FOR FREE! It’s your satisfaction in reading my stories that keeps me writing, thank you so much.
The Neighbor
“Bob…stop it.”
I squirmed beneath my boyfriend on his bed, trying to get him to stop unbuttoning my jeans. I reached up, placing both of my hands flat on his chest, and pushed at him. He was much stronger than me, so he didn’t budge.
“C’mon baby,” Bob whispered into my neck, trailing kisses up and down, “Stop holding out on me.”
He managed to undo the top button of my jeans and worked the zipper down. He slid one hand down my jeans, into my panties, and a finger brushed across my clit. He moaned into my neck, moving his finger in circles around my bud. The shock of him touching me so intimately caused me to push at him even harder. Tears pricked at my eyes.
“No, please don’t,” I sobbed, “I’m not ready.”
I heard a growl come out of Bob’s mouth before finally pulling his hand out of my jeans, getting off of me completely. He sat up, glaring down at my tear streaked face, his eyes dark and angry.
“What the fuck, Megan?” he looked away, running a hand through his hair, frustrated. He turned back to me, “You can’t keep doing this to me.”
I zipped up my jeans, buttoning them before sitting up myself. I pulled my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them. I stared at my hands, overwhelmed.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, “I’m just not ready yet. I want my first time to be special.”
“So what,” Bob scoffed, “I’m not special enough for you? Having you say no to me all the time makes me think you don’t trust me.”
I whipped my head to Bob, my eyes wide.
“I do!” I exclaimed. I say in a softer voice, “But you can’t expect me to have sex with you after dating for just two months.”
“Fine,” he said, getting up and walking over to his bedroom door and opened it. He walked out, slamming the door behind him, making me jump.
I sat on his bed for about five minutes with my arms wrapped around my knees before gathering up the courage to walk out and find Bob.
I walked out to the living room, expecting to find Bob sitting on the couch watching TV, but he was nowhere to be found. Checking the kitchen and then knocking on the bathroom door, I discovered he had completely left the house. His family was away on vacation, so it was just me in the house all alone. Figuring he just needed to walk his anger off, I sat down on the couch and turned on the TV, waiting for his return.
Bob and I met in college two months ago in our Freshman Intro to Research Writing class. Our professor insisted on assigning our seats on the first day of class and somehow, Bob and I were seated next to one another. We discovered that we also had Calculus 1 together. Being freshmen on the first day of college, we sat next to each other again, both of us relieved to see a familiar face. I thought Bob was fairly good looking; tall with sandy brown hair and broad shoulders. He was also easy to talk to and very soon after, he asked me out to lunch.
Our first date was off campus at a Mexican place that was popular with the college crowd. While sharing a plate of nachos, I learned that we both live off campus at our parent’s houses. We also lived just five blocks away from one another. His family had just moved to town recently, so that explained why I never saw him around before.
Bob was a wonderful boyfriend, at first. He was caring and gentle, doing the sweetest things for me, like buying me flowers or walking me home after our classes were over. It wasn’t until we’d been dating for a month that he started to pressure me into having sex with him. I tried explaining to him that I was a virgin and wasn't ready yet, but he brushed my concerns aside. He insisted that it was the perfect way for us to show our love for one another. I eventually put my foot down and demanded he stop pressuring me, and he relented. At least, I thought he did. Tonight was the first time since putting my foot down that he tried to pressure me.
His parents were away on some kind of “second” honeymoon, so Bob had the house to himself. He invited me over this evening to do a little studying together and maybe watch a movie. We were in his bedroom, setting ourselves up for doing some calculus homework. Bob suddenly wrapped his arm around the small of my back, pulling me against him, our chests pressed together.
He dipped his head down to meet mine in a deep kiss. I wrapped my arms around his neck, returning the kiss in kind. His hot, wet tongue worked its way into my mouth, sliding against my own. He tasted fresh and minty, probably because he had brushed his teeth recently. Bob kept on nudging me forward until I felt the back on my knees against the edge of his bed and we both fell on it. I was enjoying the heavy make out session until I felt his hands make their way to my jeans and I knew we had to stop.
It's not that I didn't love Bob, because I did. He was my first boyfriend, but I wanted my first time having sex to be special. I didn't want to give it up just because he talked me into doing it. I couldn't understand why Bob was so insistent on getting me to have sex with him all the time. Why couldn't he be patient and let me go at my own pace? I wanted to have sex with him, eventually, just not now. I've always imagined losing my virginity would be romantic. Something that just happened in the heat of the moment, too worked up to stop it from happening.
An hour had passed by with me watching TV by myself in the living room with no sign of Bob returning. Getting worried, I decided to text message him, asking him if he was still mad at me. I didn't receive a reply. I called his cellphone, hoping to reach him that way, but after several rings, it went to voice mail.
“Bob?” I said into the mouth piece of the phone I was holding, “Are you okay? I'm starting to get worried about you. Just...call me back as soon as possible, alright?”
I hung the phone up and decided there was no use in waiting up for him any longer. I packed up my belongings and left his house, making the 10 minute walk back to my own house. It was just starting to get dark, but I wasn't worried. I lived in a safe neighborhood, and everybody knew one another. I didn't count on it getting so cool this evening, so I didn't bring a coat with me to wear. Goosebumps prickled along my arms and I wrapped my arms around myself as I picked up my pace to get home as soon as possible.
Five minutes later, I made it back to my house. Relieved to get inside and warm up a little, I fished for my keys out of my purse. Holding them in my hands, I climbed the 4 steps up to the front porch.
“Hey there, Megan.”
I turned at the mention of my name and saw that the voice came from my next door neighbor, Mr. Richards. He was also standing on the front porch of his house. He was wearing a black long sleeved T-shirt and jeans that hugged his body, showing off his muscular frame. In his fingers, he held a lit cigarette.
“Hi, Mr. Richards,” I said while waving at him, “How are you?”
“I'm good,” he replied before bringing the cigarette between his lips and taking a drag out of it. Removing it, he released a steady stream of smoke from his mouth.
I frowned at him. “You really shouldn't smoke those cancer sticks,” I said, wagging a finger at him like a mother scolding a child.
He chuckled, his bright brown eyes lighting up. “I know, but you know how bad habits are hard to kick.”
I sighed,
remembering all those years of trying to get Mr. Richards to stop smoking when I was a younger girl. I tried all sorts of different tactics for getting him to quit. I tried everything from hiding his packs, to blatantly destroying every single cigarette in his carton. He never got mad at me for meddling though, which I was grateful for. I now knew how much money he spent buying those, and while I still disapproved; I left him to his own devices.
Mr. Richards used to never smoke, but only picked up the habit after getting divorced from his wife and her getting custody of the kids. A way to relieve stress, he would always say. He temporarily kicked the habit when his kids came over during summer visitation. As soon after they left to go back to their mom and back to school, he would be seen sporting his favorite brand of smokes again.
I figured he smoked so much because he was lonely. I thought that if I spent more time talking to him, that if he saw me like another daughter, he would quit again. Whenever I saw him standing in the yard, I would skip over to him and start talking about my day at school. I would talk about my friends; sometimes I would ask him to help me with my homework. Even though I didn't really need any. He seemed to be happy that I talked to him so much, so it encouraged me to continue.
It wasn't until I was a teenager that I developed a crush on Mr. Richards. I started to notice how handsome he was. He must have worked out every day because his body was lean and muscular, but not overly muscular like those muscle heads in the gym. Whenever he smiled, his whole face lit up, especially his eyes that sparkled. I think I got addicted to his smiles and did everything I could to coax one out of him. His thick hair sat on his head in a slightly messy tousle that I found incredibly sexy and I always wished I could run my hands through them.
When I started to get adventurous in the kitchen, I would make sure to bring him a container of whatever goodies I pulled out of the oven. Cookies, brownies, cupcakes, and any other baked goods were delivered to him by hand once a week. He constantly praised me on what a good cook I was and I preened under his compliments.
As I got older, I discovered that rubbing the spot between my legs felt really good. Soon, I would lay in my bed every night stroking my clit and pinching my nipples, bringing my body to ecstasy. I would do this while thinking of Mr. Richards. I went from wishing he saw me as his daughter to wishing he saw me as a woman. I dreamed about being his girlfriend, but knew it would never happen because he'd never go for someone as young as me.
My crush on Mr. Richards faded away when I met Bob. Even so, it didn't stop me from visiting him with my weekly delivery of the latest concoction I whipped up in the kitchen. He always invited me in and I got to watch him sample my latest creation, while we talked about my classes at college and his work.
“It's pretty late for you to be out by yourself,” Mr. Richards noted while observing me, “Why didn't Bob walk you home tonight?”
I plastered a smile on my face. “He wasn't feeling well,” I lied, “He thinks he might be coming down with one of those stomach bugs.”
“Couldn't he at least give you something warm to wear? You look like you're freezing.”
I laughed, trying to lighten the mood, while rubbing at the goose bumps along my arms. “He did,” I lied again, “But I thought since it's such a short walk home, I'd be okay.”
The corners of Mr. Richards's mouth went down in a slight frown, but he said nothing. My heart sunk, wondering if he could see through my lies. If he did, he didn't call me out on it.
“Well, I should let you go in then, before you catch a cold,” he said before taking a final drag from his cigarette. “I should probably head in myself. Good night, Megan.”
“Good night, Mr. Richards.” I said back before letting myself into my house.
The living room was quiet. My parents were probably still at work. The both of them liked to put in many hours during the week. A quick glance at my cellphone showed no texts or missed calls from Bob. I hoped he was safe. Maybe tomorrow when I saw him in class, he would have calmed down and we could talk.
I got ready for bed, taking a hot shower to warm myself up and slipped into a tank top and a pair of pajama shorts. I checked my phone one last time before going to bed. There was still no word from Bob. I had a restless sleep that night.
Bob didn't show up for Writing class the next day, nor did he show up for Calculus. I couldn't concentrate on any of my lectures, my thoughts wandering to Bob hurt and injured. I was worried about him and sent him a text pleading for him to reply to me. All I wanted to know was that he was okay because I was worried, even if he was still mad at me. With that, Bob finally replied, but only with a two worded response:
I'm alive.
Relief flooded my body at reading those words. He was okay. Still mad at me but...safe. I was able to get through the rest of the day without incident. I went home that evening thinking over the events of the day. I was so scared that something terrible had happened to my boyfriend. What if he actually was hurt? What would I have done? I realized how special Bob really was to me. I started to think about how childish I was being, not wanting to have sex with him because I was holding out for some silly romantic notion.
Bob loved me and I loved him. He would be patient with me for my first time. I'm sure he would be a gentle lover. A plan formed in my head. I would slip into his house and wait for him in his bedroom and surprise him by surrendering myself and my body to him. He would be so happy, I knew it.
I walked over to my closet and opened it up, looking for something special to wear. I settled on a blue wrap dress; blue was Bob's favorite color. I considered wearing a blue bra and panties as well, but decided against it. I imagine the pleased look on Bobs face when he discovered I wore absolutely nothing under the dress instead.
I stripped down naked and slipped into the wrap dress; it's cool, silky fabric caressing my skin, falling just above my knees. I fastened the ties together into a little bow, just like a Christmas present for Bob to unwrap. I sat in front on my dresser, looking at myself in the mirror, deciding on how to do my hair. I settled on just brushing it out and letting my waves hang loose down my back. A little bit of lipstick, and some blush completed the look I was going for: fresh and innocent. Satisfied by how I looked, I grabbed my purse, slipped into a pair of shoes and made my way over to Bob's house.
I walked over quickly, excited to surprise him. Reaching into the mailbox at his front door, I pulled out the spare key his family kept hidden in case of an emergency and let myself inside. I placed my purse on the coffee table in the living room and smoothed down the fabric of my dress. I adjusted my breasts so my nipples wouldn't show.
I slowly made my way over to Bob's bedroom and just as I was about to place my hand on the doorknob, I heard what sounded like muffled voices. I figured he must have gotten home earlier than I expected and was doing some homework, probably listening to some music. I'm sure he would appreciate a break from all of his hard work.
I grasped the doorknob, twisting it and opened the door quietly before stepping into his room. I opened my mouth to tell him “Surprise,” but a gasp came out instead. I stood frozen in place at what laid before me. My eyes blinked rapidly, hoping to blink out of existence what was happening.
Bob was on his bed, on top of some woman, the both of them naked. His bare ass moving rhythmically up and down as he plowed into her. The woman had her legs spread wide, holding her knees up to her ample breast that jiggled at his every thrusts. His breathing was ragged as he had his way with her. Their lustful moans assaulted my ears, until I couldn't take it anymore.
“Bob?” I managed to ask, my voice coming out much softer than I wanted it to.
He froze mid-stroke on top of the woman and immediately jumped off of her, standing beside the bed, a guilty look on his face. His hard cock bobbed between his legs, glistening wet.
“Oh Bob,” I whispered sadly, shaking my head.
“Megan?” he frowned at me, still looking guilty, before the expression on his face hardened. “What
are you doing here? How the fuck did you get in?”
“I...” I wanted to tell him about my surprise for him, but decided against it. “Never mind, you asshole,” I seethed angrily.
Tears filled my eyes and slid down my face.
Bob shrugged at me, any remnant of guilt on his face, gone. “What did you expect? You can't play these virgin games with me and expect me to wait forever for you.”
“You couldn't have waited to break up with me first?”
The woman on the bed sat up and glared at Bob. “You told me you already broke up with her.”
“Oh, my God,” I said, a fresh wave of anger coursing through me. “We're through. I am so done with you.”
I turned on my heels and ran straight out of his house, running all the way to my own. By the time I made it to my house, I was no longer crying, the air hitting me as I ran drying up my tears. I ran up the steps to the porch, desperate to get inside, and throw myself into my bed to cry all night. I reached my hand into my purse to pull out my keys, when I discovered I didn't have my purse with me. In my haste of leaving Bob's house, I forgot that I had placed my purse on the coffee table and neglected to grab it on my way out. I was locked out of my house.
Panic ran through me as I jiggled the door knob, willing it to somehow open, but it remained firmly locked. I wanted to get inside so badly, but I couldn't bring myself to go back to Bob's house. I didn't want to risk seeing him and having him see me cry all over again. I glanced at my watch and realized my parents wouldn't be home until a couple of hours later. My vision blurred as fresh tears filled my eyes. I didn't want people to see me crying on the front porch of my house. I ran around to the back, sitting down on the bench of the picnic table we had set up in the back for BBQs.
I sat with my back facing the table and sobbed into my hands, letting my tears flow freely. I couldn't believe it. Bob cheated on me. I thought he loved me and I was about to give him my virginity. The image of him pounding away into that woman flashed in my mind and a fresh wave of tears came to my eyes.
The Neighbor Page 1