Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Disclaimer: For ADULTS only.  You know who you are.  If you have to guess,
then

   you're not.  Stop reading now, or it'll stunt your growth.

   (f mast, sex toys, voyeurism)

   The Girl Next Door-Chapter 2.

   I ended up leaving work early.  Staying up all night jerking off tends
to wear you out a bit, so I faked sick, and left work before noon.  My
clients probably wouldn't like it, but right then I didn't much care.  I
was exhausted, and still couldn't get the images from the night before out
of my mind.

   On the train home I found myself doodling on a notepad I keep with me,
lost in my exhaustion.only to look down and find I was drawing clothespins,
the curve of her ass.all sorts of things I didn't want to have to explain
to people walking by.  I was quite happy when I arrived home and flopped
face first onto the couch.

   I didn't feel like moving at all, but eventually, I managed to get up,
strip off my clothes and crawl into bed.  Thankfully I was able to finally
put my neighbor out of my mind and I collapsed into a dreamless sleep.

   I woke up a few hours later, mainly because the sun was shining through
my window directly onto my face.  I groaned and moved out of the way, but
it was too late.  I couldn't get back to sleep.  Regretfully, I decided to
crawl out of bed and try to become human again.  I was just finishing
brushing my teeth when I heard strong bass music pounding from the balcony.


   At first, I was pretty good.  I calmly finished brushing my teeth,
combed the worst bedhead out of my hair, and threw on another set of
workout clothes, this time sweats and an old beer shirt.  I thought about
whether I was feeling good enough to head downstairs for a workout or not.
I decided that I should probably eat first, so I went to the kitchen to
make some pasta or something.

   Unfortunately, you can see the balcony from my kitchen.  Any sense of
self control I had left me as soon as I noticed this little fact.  I put
down the old pot I was filling with water, and nonchalantly moved a little
further to my right, so I could get a better view.  Actually, it was an
incredible view.

   My neighbor was stretching her hamstrings.  I'm sure you know the pose,
but I'll describe it for you anyway.  Imagine the most beautiful woman you
have ever seen, one you watched commit seriously depraved acts on herself
the night before.  Now, imagine her facing away from you, with her legs
perfectly straight, as she is bending to the ground, touching her toes, ass
proudly displayed.  Now, imagine a leotard made from white and blue
material so thin, it was virtually not there.  Add in the sun shining
brightly, making the white part of the outfit almost invisible.  I don't
think I remembered to breathe for quite some time.

   She was in no hurry to move.  Slowly, carefully she stretched each
muscle group in turn, allowing me to see each and every angle.  Had she
looked in my direction, she would have seen me, but she was too caught up
in her stretches to notice.  I was rooted to the spot.

   Eventually, she finished, and she began to move to the music.  It wasn't
dance, and it wasn't aerobics exactly, but somewhere in between.  I had
never seen anything like it, but it was extremely athletic and fast paced.
She whirled, twirled, even jumped in the air several times.  I realized she
was an expert as whatever form of exercise this was.  I became so
interested in watching what she was doing, I actually pulled a chair over
and sat down, mesmerized by what I was seeing.

   Several minutes passed and she was still going strong.  I already knew
this girl could sweat from the night before, and today was no different. 
Her long hair was starting to mat down with perspiration, sometimes
sticking to her face as she moved through her routine.  I could see the
sweat starting to run down her neck, causing her cleavage to glisten in the
bright sunlight.  Eventually, the CD stopped playing, and she was left
heaving in gulps of air.  God, she looked amazing.  I thought she was
finished, I sure would have been.  But after a few moments, she popped the
CD out, and put another in.

   The music changed from an up tempo, beat driven dance mix to a quiet,
reflective, slow paced groove with Indian influences.  She began to pose in
what had to be yoga.  I wasn't very familiar with it, but people around the
office had taken classes, marveling about how tough it was, but how good it
made you feel.  Each of the poses she did looked extremely difficult,
requiring balance, strength and endurance.  My neighbor made it look easy,
but after a few more minutes, I noticed her leotard was starting to get
soaked through with her perspiration.  I could actually see the dark
circles of her nipples through the flimsy, wet fabric.  I guessed that it
must be starting to chafe.

   Apparently, she noticed too.  She broke her routine, and without a
second glance, pulled the leotard off, and reached for a towel.  I strained
my neck to look around the corner, and watched her carefully dry off some
of the sweat from her torso.  She was looking down at herself quite
intently, and eventually I saw why: the purple bruises from the night
before.  Her chocolate colored nipples hid most of the damage, but the
marks were definitely there.  Happy to be set free, they started to harden
once they were let out of their lycra prison.  I guessed they must still be
quite tender, and my dick hardened at the sight.

   I was wondering why I found those marks on her nipples so arousing.  I
had never been into pain.  I had even kicked a girl out of my bed because
she asked me to spank her.  So why were these marks different?

   I didn't have time to wonder very long because at that moment, her eyes
snapped forward and bored directly into mine.  All my thoughts of arousal
left me at that moment to be replaced by only one word racing through my
mind again and again.

   Busted.

   Two more words came after that.

   Oh Shit.

   At this point you'd probably be thinking that most normal people would
flush with embarrassment and flee the scene immediately.  I know that's
what I would do, or so I thought.  Did I?  Nope.  Apparently too much blood
had flowed to the wrong head.

   Did she?  You'd think she would, wouldn't you?  But the answer is no. 
She looked directly at me with the same cool, detached gaze she had when
she had caught me checking out her ass the day before.  Then she continued
wiping herself off in her slow, deliberate manner.  She seemed totally
unconcerned to be naked in front of a strange man.

   All I could do was watch as the towel traced itself down each arm,
across her torso, down each leg.  Finally she moved to her totally shaven
mound.  The towel did seem to spend quite a bit of time there, and when she
moved it away, I noticed her clit seemed a little larger.  Maybe it was
just my imagination, but I was hooked anyway.

   At this point, I would love to tell you I boldly stepped out on the
balcony, stripped naked and did vile, nasty things to her right there. 
However, I'd be lying my ass off.  It was all I could do not to pass out as
I watched, all my attention centred on that sweaty fucking towel.  Before I
realized it, she had finished.  She quickly gathered up her leotard, hit
stop on the CD player, and retreated inside her own apartment.

   Finally, I regained control of myself.  Well, sort of.  I could move,
breathe and sort of think.  However, I wasn't going to be going anywhere
for a while since I had a huge hard-on tenting out my loose workout shorts.
Seriously, I felt like a walking sundial, and it took almost twenty minutes
for it to go away.  I considered jerking off to relieve the pressure, then
I thought about all the good it did me the night before, and I realized it
probably wouldn't help.  Instead I paced around my apartment trying not to
knock over any furniture and thought about the most unattractive woman I
could remember.  For some reason, my grade eight English teacher kept
coming to mind, making me cringe.

   Eventually, my erection went down, and I decided to head to the gym
before my neighbor decided to call the police on me for peeping.  I ran
down the stairs rather than use the elevator.  I had a little nervous
energy to burn off.

   I stayed down in the gym far later than I needed to.  I decided to spend
extra time on the treadmill after my weight session, so I was gasping for
air by the time I was finished.  I skipped the hot tub, and decided to
quietly return to my apartment.  I was hoping to sneak in unnoticed.

   I kept it quiet, and didn't see any signs of my neighbor.  I even stuck
my head out on the balcony, but her door was closed and locked, the
curtains drawn.  I figured she had probably left for the evening, and I was
finally able to relax a bit.  I remembered being hungry before all the
craziness had started, and now it was early evening.  I was starving.

   I decided on something a little more substantial than a bowl of pasta,
and set about digging through the fridge.  After a little hunting I had the
makings of a nice omelet.  I set to work, humming to myself, happy not to
have been arrested for being a pervert.  It's amazing how focussing on a
simple task like making yourself dinner can take your mind off how crazy
your life seems to have become.

   I rushed the omelet a bit, but it came out okay, and I dug in with
gusto. After the meal, I was feeling much better, much more like myself.  I
started to think about all that had been happening over the last
twenty-four hours and asked myself some tough questions.  If it sounds a
little schizophrenic, it's because it kind of was, actually.  My conscience
was forcing me to face myself, especially parts I was trying to avoid.  I
pictured my conscience as that Simon guy from the reality tv show asking me
questions in his annoying high pitched British voice.

   "You've been with women before, so why was your neighbor able to get
under your skin so quickly?" I could see his smarmy face curled up in a
mocking grin.

   "Easy," I thought.  "Not many women are as stunning, and completely
uninhibited.  I had been with a few girls who were open minded, but nothing
compared to what I had seen last night.  This girl seemed to have a whole
other level of arousal I had never seen before."

   "Okay, fine.  Why did watching her put clothespins on her nipples excite
you so much?" he asked bluntly.

   "Duh," I thought to myself.  I remembered the strength of her orgasm,
the flood of juices that came gushing out of her, and how spent she was
afterward.  "I was excited by her excitement," was the answer.  Hey, I'm
actually getting the hang of this, I thought.

   Simon started to get testy.  "Alright, then.  If she's so damn exciting,
why aren't you over there trying to seduce her right now?"

   Hmmm.  Had me there.  It took a while, and I didn't want to admit it,
but in the end I had to.  "She's a little intimidating."

   Simon raised his eyebrow.  "Intimidating?  Really?  You find her
intimidating?"

   I sighed in exasperation.  "Yes, I find her a little intimidating.  I
mean, not a lot of people have her kind of sex drive.  I'm not sure I have
that kind of sex drive.  I'd hate to be."

   "What?  Left behind?  Found wanting?  Not sufficient to satisfy her?" My
conscience, which I pictured as Simon, was merciless.  That's why I kept it
locked up most of the time.

   "Yes, dammit.  All those things," I thought to myself.

   "Ah, I see.  Don't you pride yourself on your, ahem, prowess?"

   My own conscience was mocking me.  Fuck.  "Yes," I answered, "I do."
Truthfully, in my 32 years I had done pretty well with the ladies.  I had
never found anyone I liked enough to marry, but why buy the cow, you know?
I thought about some of the women I had been with over the last few years.
There were actually a fair number.  All of them were nice in one way or
another, but for some reason the relationships never went anywhere.  I
finally answered, "The sex was good.  In fact, in many cases, it was
great."

   "Something you take the credit for, yes?" my conscience asked with an
evil grin.

   "Well, I was there, and I did take part, you know." I responded dryly.

   "So it was all you.  Of course it was," he laughed, sarcasm dripping
from every word.

   "No!  But you know, if the girls are telling you how terrific it was
after, and it felt good to you." I trailed off.  I was getting more and
more defensive with my own conscience.  What the hell was I doing?

   I could hear Simon chuckling to himself.  Finally he said, "The reason
you find her intimidating is that for once, you are not the one in control.
She only knows about you watching her dry herself off, but she doesn't know
about the night before.  She also doesn't know how obsessed you've become,
so she's got you by the balls and she doesn't even know it.  What frightens
you is that she doesn't need you, or maybe even want you, but you want her.
Badly.  You're afraid you'll be inadequate, not up for the job, as they
say, and you're probably right.  But you're too much of a baby to try and
find out."

   The smug tone annoyed me, but I couldn't argue.  How do you fight with
your own conscience anyway?  I was forced to admit the truth for what it
was.  But that didn't mean I had to like it.  Or accept it.

   Before I could change my mind, I opened up my door to the balcony.  I
strode out onto the concrete surface, and noticed that there was indeed a
light on at my neighbor's place.  With my conscience disbelieving, I
knocked on the frame of her door.

   Nothing.

   Shit.  Well, that's that, I surmised, with Simon laughing uproariously
at my feeble attempt to prove him wrong.  I headed back into my apartment,
turned on sports, and cranked the volume loud enough that I couldn't listen
to Simon even if I wanted to.  It worked surprisingly well.

   By the end of the game, it was getting late, and I knew that I should be
hitting the sheets.  I was going to have to go to work early to take care
of what had been piling up today.  I switched the television off and the
silence was deafening.  The moon was out clearly tonight and it was bright,
almost full.  I'm sure I had ulterior motives, but I told myself I would
take in a breath of fresh air (how fresh can it be in the heart of the
city?).  I strolled out to the balcony and took in a deep breath, letting
it out slowly.  I leaned over the edge and looked down onto the city
streets.  At night, it's beautiful.  All the dirt and grime are hidden and
the lights glow with a radiance that moves me.  I turned to head back into
my apartment and to bed.

   And stopped dead as I realized my neighbor had returned home.  And her
door was open once again.

   I had to look.  She had drawn the curtains, but I could still peer
around the edges.  No one at the computer.  I was disappointed, but was
about to leave when I heard some motion coming from down the hall of her
apartment.  I stepped to the side of the doorway so I wouldn't be noticed,
and I could hear Simon chuckling inside my head.

   I took a deep breath, and pushed back the curtain.  She was standing
there looking amazing in a black bra and crotchless panties, sheer black
stockings held up by garters.  Red lipstick and red nail polish finished
off the ensemble.  My eyes flew wide, and she stopped dead in her tracks,
staring at me.

   Words failed me.  I couldn't think of a thing to say.

   After a moment, she relaxed and unbelievably, motioned me inside.  I
stepped through cautiously, not really knowing what to say or do next.

   She moved her computer chair over to me and said in a smoky voice, "You
can sit there.  But don't move at all, okay?"

   I nodded dumbly, and sat down.  She glanced at a clock on the wall and
raced back down the hall, returning seconds later with a thick white
blanket and a small duffel bag.  She spread the white blanket on the floor
about four feet away from where I was sitting.  Only then did I notice the
series of small black cameras that had been positioned to capture whatever
was happening on the blanket from four or five angles.

   She returned down the hall and came out bearing a couple of lights, the
kind photographers use, putting them around the blanket strategically. 
After fiddling with them for a minute, she seemed satisfied.

   She had set her bag down off the blanket, and typed in a few things to
her computer.  After several keystrokes, a few clicks of the mouse, and an
adjustment to the angle of the monitor, she moved the keyboard (which was
wireless) down to the blanket.  She lay herself down and assumed a
provocative pose, propped up on one elbow with her legs crossed
seductively.

   She looked at me again.  "Now, I'm about to start the webcast, so no
talking or noise, okay?  Nothing."

   I nodded, not sure what else to do.  Even Simon had shut up by now.

   She tapped a few more commands, and I noticed one of the webcams started
to whirr, making a very soft noise.  A few more taps, and the rest were all
whirring around as well, recording this goddess from every angle.  Once
again I was mesmerized by her confident sexuality.  Her outfit didn't hurt,
either.

   She seemed to be waiting for something.  After a moment, whatever she
was looking for must have happened as she said, "Let's get started." She
reached into her duffel bag, and brought out a small, metallic blue penis
shaped dildo, and looked into one of the cameras, licking her lips in
anticipation.

   The head of the dildo gently caressed her forehead, down her nose, and
into her waiting lips.  Beautiful, full red lips that kissed it tenderly on
the tip, then opened to gently take the latex head inside.  Her cheeks were
pulled inward as she applied tender suction to the blue tool, and my
erection was roaring to life.

   She arched her back, showing her incredible body off to great effect
before finally releasing the dildo from her mouth.  Gently, she let it
continue it's downward path, now coated with her saliva, and shining
brightly under the lights.  The dildo wound its way between her breasts,
now starting to heave with excitement, and gently circled her navel.  Her
eyes closed in anticipation and she smiled a small, evil grin.

   Over the garter belt, the dildo traced it's path until it finally
stopped, nestled gently in the crevice between her legs.  My eyes were
glued to the dildo, and I could almost feel it's pain being so close
without being able to achieve it's purpose.  Her legs were still crossed
seductively, but now they began to open, revealing her shaven jewel. 
Clearly, she was enjoying herself as her lips spread in anticipation.

   First, she circled the emerging head of her clit with the tip of the
dildo, coating it with her juices.  She started to moan as she pleasured
herself, and I wondered if I would be able to keep my promise of staying in
the chair.  The animalistic urge to jump on her and take her every way
possible was surging through my body, and it took a real effort of self
control not to give in.

   Her labia were wide open now, and the dildo was coated in juices.  Sure
enough, in a strong single motion, she pushed the tip inside, moaning at
the sensation as she did so.  The dildo wasn't large, so given her level of
arousal, it didn't take much to swallow the thing up to it's base.  She
pulled it out quickly and began fucking herself hard with the little tool,
rubbing her clit with her lacquered fingernails at the same time.

   I was so absorbed by what was happening, it didn't even occur to me to
jerk off.  My erection was about to burst through my pants, but I didn't
care.

   Her juices were flowing freely now, and her moans were becoming
rhythmic, guttural noises as she took herself to the height of her first
orgasm.  Before long, she cried out, and a squirt of fluid shot across the
room, landing on my leg.  I felt it's searing heat, and gathered a droplet
on my finger, savoring it's feeling.  More ran out of her steaming cunt and
soaked the white blanket, but she was far from caring.  She pumped her hips
in time with the convulsions her orgasm brought her, extending her
pleasure. Eventually, however, she came down to earth once more.  A sheen
of perspiration covered her body, and her chest heaved with the exertion.

   She pulled the dildo from her dripping cunt, and unclasped her bra,
releasing the pressure on her aching breasts.  She held the bra in place
for a moment, playing coquettishly to the cameras before tossing it behind
her head with a flourish, displaying her fabulous tits, bruise marks and
all.

   Slowly she cupped one and pushed the erect nipple up towards her fully
extended tongue.  She flicked it back and forth until it stood stiffly at
attention.  After several seconds, she released it and began on her other
breast, playing to the camera all the while.  When it too had achieved the
proper form she released it and leaned back on her elbows, showing them off
proudly.

   There was a lot to be proud of, I thought abstractly, still battling my
urge to ravish her.

   A minute passed, where I sensed she was catching her breath as much as
anything, and she reached into her bag, pulling out another dildo, this one
huge compared to the last one.  Easily ten inches long and six inches in
circumference at the base, this fuckstick would make any man envious.  It
was black and smooth, and not modeled after a penis, but looking more like
a police baton than anything, although wider.  It even had a handle at the
end for a better grip.

   My breath caught as I realized what she was going to do with this
mammoth thing.  I couldn't believe it would fit in her hole, but that
didn't mean she wasn't going to try.  I don't think I blinked for the next
twenty minutes.

   She tried to suck the end of this dildo, but she couldn't fit the end in
her mouth.  It was too wide, so she contented herself with licking it
provocatively, coating it with saliva.  Her pussy, already aroused from her
previous tool was open and ready, but it still amazed me that she was going
to fuck this thing.

   She shifted her hips, flattening the angle of penetration to make it
easier.  I noticed her biting her lip as she put the huge tool at the
entrance to her core.  She couldn't even reach the handle, it was so long,
so she grabbed the shaft and pushed the tip slowly inside.

   One inch.  Her lips were pushed to their limit to accept this invader.
Her legs spread wide, and her breathing came in short, tight gasps.  She
pushed further.

   Two inches.  She had to stop here for a moment and breath deeply.  Her
clit was mashed against the smooth black surface as she took it in as far
as she could.  I could see her excitement start to take over after a
moment, and she pushed again.

   Three inches.  She cried out, pain and pleasure mixing inside of her
again.  I knew it was a powerful combination, and I guessed she was well on
her way.  She pulled the dildo out an inch, then back in pumping slowly. 
Her syrup was coating the tool, and I could see some run down the crack of
her ass.  Her clit was red and swollen, receiving continuous pressure as
she fucked herself with this monster.

   Four inches.  A deeper cry, and a quick spasm ran through her body,
causing her to shudder, and her breath to come in ragged gasps.  Her hand
reached for, and finally found, the handle at the end of the beast.  She
held it in a tight fist, and began to turn the cum slicked pole around in a
circle as she hammered it in and out.  With the extra leverage, she was
able to push harder.

   Six inches.  Her limit.  She rammed the tool into herself hard and with
increasing speed.  I watched the as her skin tone deepened from almond to a
darker brown, and finally, to a little pink as her orgasm began to take
over her body.  Her toes curled, her knuckles grew white as they gripped
the big black stick, and the syrup oozed out of her tortured hole.  Her
cries turned to a long scream, and her body stiffened, her back arched off
the blanket as this mother of all orgasms tore through her.  Several
seconds passed before the spasms released her from their control.

   She fell back to the blanket, slick with sweat and her own juices. 
Without her hands pushing it into herself, the dildo inched it's own way
out, until it fell away with an audible slurping noise.  Her eyes had
rolled back in her head, and now they were closed.  Her breathing was still
labored, but started to slow.

   After a couple of minutes, she licked her lips, the first sign of
awareness I had seen since her orgasm.  A few more seconds, and she
blinked, her eyes re-adjusting to the bright lights.  Her color returned to
normal, and she stretched slowly, sensually.

   Another minute, and she pulled her keyboard towards her.  She began
typing quite quickly, and it became clear there was another person on the
other end of the computer.  I started to leave, but she stopped me with a
raised finger.

   It took several minutes, but she finally finished typing to the other
person.  A few more keystrokes and the cameras shut themselves down, no
longer whirring or recording any action.  It seemed like forever, but
finally, her attention wasn't taken up by the computer, and she turned her
gaze in my direction.

   Rather than look me directly in the eye as she had earlier in the day,
this time she started at my feet and worked her way up, appraising
everything along the way.  I felt vaguely like a piece of meat, but it
wasn't in a bad way.  I did get a little nervous when her gaze settled on
my raging erection, especially after looking at the size of dildo she had
just pleasured herself with.  A small smile played at the edge of her lips
as her gaze made it's way up to my tattered beer shirt, then finally, my
eyes.

   She said simply, "You work out.  Good."

   I will remember what happened next for the rest of my life.



   NOTE TO READERS: Thanks to all who have provided feedback, especially KG
from Texas.  Your questions provided the framework for this chapter.  I
love any kind of input into my writing, it inspires me.  If you have any
comments or questions, please send them to me at feryk2001@yahoo.com. 
Chapter 3 is in development.  Thanks in advance.