In those days, I didn’t wear underwear. I had long hair down to the small of my back. I was in good shape, lean and muscular, a bike rider with thick legs and a laid-back demeanor. You probably know the type.
So a certain kind of woman often responded to me. A certain kind of man, too, although I’d never given that a thought.
For my part, here’s what I liked in a woman: Natural, sensual. smart. Sexual intellectuals. Open and daring, although even if they weren’t, I usually got them there pretty quick.
My next door neighbor was one of the “certain kinds of women.” She’d flirt, flash me, leave the window open so I could hear–and sometimes see–her having sex. She was not subtle.
One night she knocked on my door. Drunk. In a nightie. Asked for a glass of wine. Sat on the floor in front of the fire, leaning back against the couch, where I was sitting. We talked, flirted. One of us said something funny. A little time went by and I noticed she was still chuckling quietly at it. But it wasn’t chuckling. It was her breath. She was playing with herself.
I leaned over, nuzzled her neck, kissed her. Slid my hand down to help her. She pressed it beneath hers, rubbed an impossibly swollen clit against my fingers, and ground against me to a quick orgasm, grunting once deeply and stiffening against my arm.
After a moment, she composed herself. Stood up. I stood too, hands on her waist, my cock straining through my jeans to get at that smooth, silken pussy I’d just felt. We kissed, rocking together. She very intentionally rubbed her pussy first up and then down the length of my erection. “Feels nice,” she said. “But I can’t now. Got a date over.”
And with that she downed the rest of her wine, gave me another kiss, and headed out the door. Three seconds later, another knock.
“Forgot. I’m supposed to be here for a condom. Do you have one?”
I did. Will I lose you at this point if I tell you that I use the larger size? Well, stay with me anyway. Her eyes lit up. “Good to know I can still call them,” she said. “I think this’ll do just right.”
She left with the box.
Of course I immediately headed to “our” window. And sure enough, there on her living room couch, was a guy in boxer-briefs, drinking a glass of something, looking bored. She came back in, gave him a big kiss, wasted no time. Lay him back, stroked the front of his shorts, took him out and began to suck him. She looked over to see if I was watching–which, of course, I was. Winked and nodded at his cock. He was big. Then they headed to the back of the house for more, and the show was over.
But my type, for dating, has always been more the librarian-by-day, rocker-chick-by-night type. And for awhile, right after that night, that’s exactly who I was dating–a reference librarian with a wild side. I dug her tons.
My neighbor called to me on the way out one day as I was heading to my car. “Your girlfriend’s cute.”
I stopped. “I agree,” I said. “But don’t worry, you’re cute too. That guy work out?”
“For now,” she said. “Til you come around.”
I laughed and headed to my car.
“Hey, when can I meet her?”
What do you say to this? Uh, probably never, since you, you know, flash me and stuff? “I’m going to get her right now. You going to be out here later?”
“I might,” she said. “Come over for a drink when you get back. I won’t embarrass you.”
I hesitated, then agreed. Then kicked myself all the way to Joni’s house.
And then honestly forgot. It was all-me-and-Joni, all-the-time, right up until the time I pulled back up to my house. Sitting in the car, I told Joni the whole thing-: crazy-ish neighbor, wants to meet her, supposed to go over for a drink.
“Cool, sounds fine,” Joni said, shrugging. “This is cool, right?” She indicated her sun-dress, which, yes, was righteously cool.
So we rang Chris’s bell, and to my relief, she was 1) fully dressed, and 2) great. Sat us down, poured drinks, was social and kind and funny.
We talked, drank, hung out. It was very civil, if a little intoxicated.
Suddenly: “Oh my god you have the blowjob book!” Joni was looking at Chris’s bookshelf. Here’s the thing: Joni’s blowjobs were an opera. If there are a thousand nerve endings in a cock, she found every one. I still get hard thinking about them.
“I love that book!” She got up and grabbed it from the shelf, then sat back down next to me. Showed me where she’d gotten many of the things she did to me. Chris got up and sat on the other side of Joni, and together they chatted their way through the “Illustrated Guide to 201 Blowjobs.” Joni began to talk about me as if I weren’t there. “He loves this. He’s thick right here so I use my fingers too.” “Have you tried this?” “Mmm, I’d forgotten about this.” I noticed that Joni’s thighs began to speckle with subtle goosebumps.
Then they got to the section on “Sharing a Cock.” “This looks like you,” Joni said, showing be the book. And the thing is, she was right. The cock did look like mine. And suddenly I saw that same light in Chris’s eyes that I’d seen when I gave her the condoms.
“God, you think you know your neighbors,” she joked.
Joni’s arm had been resting on my leg as she held the book. But now she slipped it down a bit, between my legs, pressed it back against me. I was getting hard.
Suddenly Joni leaned forward for her drink, using it as an opportunity to rub me even more directly. She downed her wine in a single swallow.
She looked right at Chris for a moment, opened her mouth once to speak, closed it again. Then: “Let’s try this,” she said, pointing to an illustration of two woman, each running their tongues up either side of a cock.
“You mean now?” Chris asked.
“When else?” Joni said. “You up for it?” she asked me. Guess.
“You up for it?” she asked Chris.
Chris didn’t answer. She put her drink down, shuffled over on her knees, and planted herself between my legs, with her hands on my thighs.
“You’re a lucky man, neighbor,” she said. She began running her hands up the insides of my thighs and pressing her palms against my now-hard cock. Joni whispered in my ear: “You’re about to get even luckier.”
She kissed me, ran her hand down my chest and body and met Chris’s at the front of my jeans. They squeezed me together. Chris put her mouth against the front of my jeans and blew hot air. Joni grabbed the back of Chris’s head and pressed her mouth harder against me.
Joni pulled away, knelt down next to me, and unbuttoned my jeans. Aware of my non-underwear proclivities, she carefully tugged the zipper down. As soon as I was free, she held me up for Chris to suck, running her thumb and forefinger up and down the very base of me as Chris’s mouth worked over the head and shaft.
Joni slipped between my legs, next to Chris, put her arm around Chris’s shoulder, and the two of them perfectly recreated the illustration in the book, a flattened tongue running up each side of my cock. Joni was squirming, and I looked to down to see Chris’s hand between Joni’s legs, working her just as she had her own clit in my house a few weeks before.
I took Joni’s hand, lifted her back to the couch, slowly laid her back, and removed her thin white panties. She nestled one foot in behind my back and rested the other on my hip, just inches from where Chris was giving Joni a run for her money in the blowjob department. I leaned over, kissed her belly, her hipbones, the insides of each of those beautiful goosebumped thighs. Closer and closer to her pussy, but never quite there. I could smell her responding.
I blew on her clit, flicked my tongue between her lips, blew again. I brought the full width of my tongue in one stroke up the front of her pussy–again stopping just before reaching her clit.
Finally I teased her hood with my tongue, quick light flicks back and forth, up and down. As she started rocking in response, I pulled off again. Kissed her pussy lips, nibbled her thighs. She grabbed my head and pushed my mouth against her.
I pulled her tighter to me by the hips, pressed her hood back with my lips, and sucked her clit into my mouth, flicking my tongue faster and faster. I moved my head back and forth, keeping her clit sucked into my mouth. I opened my mouth wide against her and ran the tip of my tongue slowly along the length of her clit. Then sucked her in hard again and flicked my tongue even faster. With each variation, Joni was more and more vocal, undulating like the ocean beneath my mouth.
Chris stopped sucking me and sat watching, mouth open in imitation of mine, slowly rubbing my cock against her face and tenderly stroking Joni’s calf.
Joni came like a freight train, long pulses of convulsions and incredible velvetted sighs of release. I heard Chris whisper, barely audibly, “oh my god.” She was really working my cock with her hand now, seemingly not even realizing it, as Joni’s body moved in smaller and smaller waves until she went momentarily still.
Judging by her breath and subtle movements between my legs, Chris was clearly rubbing herself again. Joni looked over at her, then up at me. She sat up, kissed me deep, and again whispered in my ear. “For that,” she said, “you get to to fuck her.”
Chris laughed and shook her head back and forth, grazing her tongue against my cock with each pass. She looked up at me and mouthed “finally.”
Chris got up and retrieved one of the condoms she’d borrowed that drunken night. The two of them rolled it onto me together. We moved to her overstuffed chair, and she sat back and opened herself for me. Joni knelt next to us and tickled my ass as she watched me move into Chris. I was right: her pussy was incredible.
Chris was vocal, and clearly liked it hard. I was glad to oblige. Joni and I had very connected, sensual sex, but we rarely did the kind of raw fucking that Chris was asking for. Joni just watched and took it in, occasionally making wide-eyed and approving eye-contact with me as she ran her hands over both our bodies.
I was supporting myself on the arms of the chair and pulling almost all the way out then driving straight back down. On consecutive thrusts, pushed out in bursts of breath, Chris said these three devestating words: “Give. Me. More.”
I pushed her hands back over her hand and held them with one hand. I shoved three fingers into her mouth with the other. And then I fucked her for all I was worth, literally knocking the chair back with each downstroke. She ate it up. Joni leaned forward, moved my fingers from Chris’s mouth, and, for the first time, kissed her. The two women both responded to this new level of contact between them, and Chris freed her hands and wrapped her arms tightly around Joni as they kissed, grabbing and scratching at her back and clearly losing control.
With a single primal grunt and maybe too-forceful thud of her arms against Joni’s back, Chris came. She stayed stiff for seemingly minutes, then let out another grunt and went limp completely.
Joni extricated herself and began kissing me like I’d just returned from war. “That was amazing,” she kept saying. “Holy shit that was amazing.” Chris pulled Joni back down her and they shared a more tender kiss, a whispered laugh and a word or two. Then Chris said, “Ok, lie on your back on the floor.” Joni complied.
Chris sat up, I pulled out of her, and she peeled the condom off me. She positioned my cock with the head just above Joni’s mouth. Then she began what I can only describe as “milking”–using one hand then the other straight down the length of me, almost like she was willing the cum to release. It was amazing.
Joni began playing with my ass, and slipped her middle finger up between the crack. She pressed my cheeks aside with her other fingers and rested the tip of her middle finger right at my hole. Chris cupped my balls and began stroking me faster, aiming me right at Joni’s mouth.
Sure enough, I began to explode. Chris popped the head of my cock between Joni’s lips, then stroked the cum right out of me and into Joni’s mouth. Joni tried to squeeze even more out by pressing against my asshole. When they’d milked me almost dry, Chris took me out of Joni’s mouth and sucked the last little bit of cum out of the tip.
She kissed me. “I’m going to give you guys a minute,” she said, and headed off to the back of the house.
We got ourselves cleaned up, took a little more wine, and waited for her. When fifteen minutes went by, Joni went looking for her. She came back a moment later, looking a little stunned.
“I think you should see this,” she said, taking my hand and leading me back to the part of the house I’d never seen.
And there, in Chris’s cande-light bedroom, on Chris’s overstuffed bed, was Chris. Face planted in the comforter, ass in the air. Getting the second fucking-of-her-life of the night, this time from the guy I’d seen through the window that first night. The same guy we’d apparently all just put on a show for. He looked over at Joni and me and tapped Chris lightly on the shoulder. She looked up at us, opened her mouth as if to say something, then suddenyl grunted a single, intense grunt and stiffened, coming at that very moment. He leaned down and began talking into her ear, something we couldn’t hear, so we backed away, quietly gathered her stuff, and headed next door.
That began period of increasingly intimate and more daring experiences among us, starting with more and more explicit and intentional window-shows, and progressing to something perhaps none of us could have anticipated. But that’s for the next story.