It was the dog’s fault.
That I was out until three in the morning was, perhaps, an issue, but I personally didn’t feel my odd hours should really factor into the equation. Wouldn’t any rational human being be bothered by the high pitched yelp of the Yorkie-gone-mad next door?
Was it really just me? I couldn’t be the only one considering playing my noise-ordinance card with the local authorities, could I?
Still, I didn’t. I rolled around in bed, made sure the windows were shut completely, turned on two fans, the air conditioner, and covered my head with pillows, but that dog’s little yap pierced through them all. Eventually, my lack of sleep started to affect my work.
Granted, bar tending wasn’t brain surgery, and while the clientele didn’t mind an occasional on-my-feet nod and subsequent heavy hand, Tilly, The Rusty Nail’s owner, was going to catch on to me eventually. I knew it was getting bad when the sound of the blender could start to lull me to sleep.
And the most objectionable thing was, the Yorkie was adorable. When I yanked the drapes, ready to open the doorwall and go out on to the balcony in a fit of temper, there it was-the little canine seemed sure that it was his duty to run the perimeter of their privacy fence, barking nonstop all the while-but it was so cute, I just couldn’t say anything.
In my limited experience of pets, I didn’t know what calling the authorities would do. Did they take away barking dogs? I couldn’t subject the animal to some ominous threat, no matter how much it yelped. The guilt of living with that wouldn’t afford me any sleep, either, I reasoned-like some twisted Wizard-of-Oz version of the Tell-Tale Heart, I knew that little Toto-face would haunt me. I couldn’t be the masculine version of the Wicked Witch of the West, as much as I wanted to when Barkapalooza began every morning at six.
Then, one day, there was no more barking… and I didn’t even realize it until I was singing in the shower some time around one in the afternoon, feeling blissfully rested and content. Frowning, I dried off and headed back to my darkened bedroom, wincing at the bright sunlight that poured into the room when I tugged the drapes back to look down into the neighbor’s yard.
I was actually worried about the little guy. Was he sick? Were the neighbors on vacation? I didn’t know much about my neighbors in the condo complex. The couple on the other side of me didn’t have pets-that much I knew. On the Yorkie side, since I’d only seen the one woman, so I assumed she and the Yorkie were it.
When I opened my drapes, there was the neighbor, stretched out bare-assed on a chaise lounge—and what an ass it was! Her flesh flowed past the boundaries of the chair, her bottom dimpled and her thighs thick. She had gorgeous hair-I’d always noticed that about her-thick, curly and blonde. The little Yorkie curled up nearby on the cement in the shade, panting in the heat but quiet as a mouse. I hadn’t recalled ever seeing my neighbor home on any afternoon, even on a weekend, since I’d moved in six months ago.
I was marveling at the quiet and making the heretofore unrecognized by me but blatantly obvious connection that my canine-nemesis wasn’t barking solely to annoy me,
but was clearly just lonely during the day, when my neighbor rolled over onto her back and all thought went out of my head entirely.
In spite of my regular attendance at bars, with all the drinking and cavorting that tended to occur, I hadn’t been near or even seen a nude woman in over a year. I couldn’t believe my body’s immediate response-the way my belly tightened and my cock jerked.
It wasn’t just the shock of it, although there was that, too. This was my neighbor, a woman I’d smiled and waved to in passing. I knew she drove a silver Taurus and wore what had to be at least size 24 suits to work and owned a yelping little dog-and now I knew she sunbathed nude. Startling new information, to be sure, and I wasn’t quite sure how to process it.
Now that she’d switched sides, she had to put on more oil, and her whole body glistened with it. Her slick hands began to move up over the swell of her belly to tweak large, pink nipples that topped the largest, most pendulous breasts I’d ever seen. She twiddled and played, pulled and tugged, cupped the heavy flesh in her hands and squeezed them together, the oiled up mass of flesh creating a cleft that I found myself wanting to bury my cock-or my face-between.
Her tongue reached out to her nipple, and I watched, fascinated, as she licked it.
Then she lifted her breast to her mouth and actually captured the nipple between her lips, sucking it. I found myself with my forehead pressed against the glass, straining to get a better view, admonishing myself the whole time and swearing I was going to close the drapes… in just a minute
The Yorkie looked up at her for a moment, and I wondered if my neighbor had made some noise-the thickness of the doorwall kept out most sounds, supersonic yelps notwithstanding-but then the dog went back to snoozing with its head on its paws and my neighbor continued to suck her nipple into her mouth. Make that-both nipples! Good God, she had them both pressed and angled together, licking them at once!
There was something really wrong with what I was doing and I knew it-I just couldn’t seem to stop. She clearly thought she was alone and unseen, her hand sneaking down the thick flesh of her belly, searching past the folds as she began her autoerotic foray, and I knew I should close the curtains and leave her to her pleasure.
It was just that her pleasure was quickly becoming mine. Watching her body shift, her belly ripple, those enormous tits sway and jostle, made me feel weak with lust. My cock was an iron bar as her searching fingers found the promised land and I saw the telltale darkness of her pubic hair. I found myself wanting to spread her wide, shove those gorgeous, fleshy thighs back and bury my face between them.
I was still wearing a towel, and I edged my hand under it, parting it like a curtain between my legs, seeking the stiff heat of my cock. I couldn’t help myself, watching her hand moving with ever increasing intensity between her own thighs. Her oiled hands made everything slick, and I could see her pussy glistening as she spread her knees and lifted her hips, seeking to press her fingers deeper.
The spread of her hips over the chair made me dizzy with lust and my hand shuttled up and down the length of my shaft, my breath coming so fast it was steaming up the glass and I had to move in order to maintain a good view of the sunbathing Venus that was my neighbor. I found myself wishing I could hear her, wondering what noises she made, how her wet flesh must sound when she sank her fingers into her juicy pussy.
Her other hand was rubbing over the mountain of her breast, rubbing her nipple under her palm. The other breast quivered with the motion of her hand between her legs, her whole body oiled to a fine sheen in the sun. I rubbed the slick, hot head of my cock against the cool glass, sliding my pre-cum in a vertical line, up and down, wishing it was her slit I was butting up against. What would it be like, to slip into the fat little purse that lay under that voluminous belly like a well-kept secret? Heaven… pure heaven!
My cock jerked in my hand as she pulled her legs back, holding one of her knees in her hands so her pussy was spread wide apart, a meaty, moist treasure just waiting to be discovered. Her fingers plundered that trove, her thumb searching for the pearl and finding it, rubbing, rubbing. Oh God, I couldn’t hold out anymore…
That’s when she began to tremble as if her chaise were sitting on a fault line. She became her own earthquake, the thrust of her hips quivering her flesh. I cried out, watching the tremors move through her like shockwaves, her eyes closed, her mouth open in a delicious “O” of pleasure. My cock erupted in my hand, its own geyser, spewing thick white cum onto the glass. Then I experienced my own after shocks, leaning my forehead against the window and closing my eyes in the final sweet agony of release.
And then I heard the dog. The little Yorkie was at it again! When I opened my eyes, I saw, to my horror, that the little yipper was yapping at me! And my busty neighbor, alerted to my presence, had covered herself with a towel and was beating a hasty retreat into the house.
With a repentant groan, I quickly grabbed my own towel, wiping the evidence from the window and shutting the curtain again, hoping that the day’s irony wasn’t going to end, instead of in my calling the police on a yapping Yorkie, in my neighbor calling the police about a peeping Tom!