Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 (c) Copyright Henrik Larsen 2001





   Comments are very welcome.  You can reach me either through assd or by
e-mail at henlar@hotmail.com.



   This story contains elements of explicit sexual nature.

   If, for some reason, you feel offended by erotic stories, then I don't
know why you have opened this one.  Maybe to be offended, so you can
complain about how awful it is that somebody writes stuff like this.  If
that's the case, my advice is to seek professional help.  You need it.  If
you are not allowed to read stories like this, I will not be held
responsible, if you choose to continue.  But don't worry; it's all fantasy.

   A great thanks to Old Rotorhead and Cagey.  I'm very grateful for their
patient work, correcting and editing my stories, and their constant
encouragement.

   Reposting or any other use of this story is strictly prohibited without
the express, written permission of the author.



   The Neighbour's daughter.  Chapter 10.

   The first three weeks, while Sophie was on vacation with her parents,
weren't that bad.  I missed her, of course I did, but it was nothing like
the feeling I had when she returned.  Knowing that she was so near, just on
the other side of the wall, made it almost unbearable to be without her.  I
spent hours trying to figure out a way for us to see each other.  I
considered offering my assistance in helping her with her homework, but she
was bright and didn't really need help.  I even considered sending a couple
of theatre-tickets to her parents, anonymously of course, to get them out
of the house, but there were too many stories around about people doing
that, and then robbing the victims house or flat while they were away. 
Sophie's parents would never buy it.

   Every idea I came up with had a major flaw and would never work, so I
gave up.  Instead, I began to think about why Sophie's parents acted the
way they did, and kept Sophie away from the rest of the world, generally
treating her like she was a small child.

   My first thought was that her parents were members of some religious
sect.  Back in the sixth grade, we had a boy in my class whose parents were
Jehovah's Witnesses.  He wasn't allowed to have any contact with other
children and he dressed weirdly.  He didn't say much and in the beginning
he was bullied a lot, because he was different.  It wasn't until our
teacher told us why he was different that it stopped.  I think we all felt
ashamed and I remember that I felt really sorry for him.  It didn't change
much, though.  He was still isolated and very quiet.  He apparently
accepted his fate, but he never appeared to be happy.  I can't recall him
laughing or smiling.

   Sophie had never talked about anything religious.  I asked Mrs Larsen
and she was sure that they only visited a church in connection with
baptism, marriage or death.  Somehow, it didn't seem likely that religion
would be the cause of their strange behaviour.  But then what?  What else
could make people act that way?

   It could be something in her parent's upbringing which they just passed
on.  That was a plausible explanation, even though every other part of
their life was fairly normal.  Both her parents dressed normally.  They had
a car and a TV; everything a normal family would have.  Could it be that
they were in touch with everything else in modern life, except how to bring
up a child?  I couldn't come up with a better explanation, but I still
wasn't sure it was the right one.

   On top of all my thoughts and worries about Sophie and our relationship,
came Mrs Larsen's situation.  She wasn't doing any better and although she
was still mentally healthy - no signs of senility and only marginal
troubles with her memory - she was physically very weak now, and it was
difficult for her to move around in her flat.  Her eyesight was
deteriorating as well and she could no longer watch TV.  It had never been
that important for Mrs Larsen, she preferred reading or listening to the
radio, but the fact that she couldn't watch the few things she liked to
watch on TV reminded her of her age and condition.

   She had a lady to do the cleaning a couple of times a week, but nothing
else.  I didn't really know if it was because she turned down any other
offers from the council or because they didn't offer her anything.  I
didn't mind doing her shopping and cooking; I had to shop anyway - still no
freezer - and it was better to eat with her than eat alone.  She did say
that she could hire somebody to do the shopping and cooking, but I always
told her I didn't mind.  She also offered me money, but I turned that down
as well.  I knew that she had a fair pension from her late husband, but I
didn't think it could be very much.  Besides, she always insisted on paying
for the food and wine, so I ate a lot of free meals.

   She should have used the walker or a wheelchair, but her home wasn't
designed for it.  There were small rugs everywhere, which needed to be
removed and the doorsteps would have to go, too.  The worst thing was that
the doors were too narrow for a wheelchair to be able to get in and out. 
All in all, it would have been best for her to move, preferably to a place
where she could be looked after.  The only problem was that she refused to
move.  She wanted to die where she was born and "With a little luck, it
will happen soon." Those were her words and she meant it.  It was a
difficult to understand for a young man like me, but I accepted it.

   The weeks passed and I saw Sophie on the stairs once or twice a week. 
We said hello, politely, but generally we acted as if we hardly knew each
other.  Sophie was good at keeping up appearances, almost too good.  I
began to suspect that she didn't miss me very much.  After all, she had
Nina.  I was jealous, I guess.  Deep down inside, I knew she had to act as
if we were just neighbours, but I was hoping for some sign that she missed
me as much as I missed her.

   Jealousy is an awful thing, because it just grows inside you and the
more you try to push it aside and tell yourself that you are imagining
things, the more you find that seems to confirm your worst fears.  Little
details, nothing that would normally bother you, but suddenly they grow
into something close to the ultimate proof of infidelity.  It's horrible.
I've never considered myself a jealous type, but for a couple of weeks, it
was eating me up.

   Then I meet Nina in the supermarket one day.  When I saw her, I was in
no mood to talk to her, being convinced that she had "stolen" Sophie from
me, but my good upbringing forced me to do the polite thing; to stop to
talk.  It was a wise decision.

   "Hello, Nina.  How're things going?" I asked.

   I may have sounded less than enthusiastic, but I tried my best.

   "OK," Nina answered.  "Sophie misses you terribly."

   She didn't sound as if everything was all right.

   "She has you, hasn't she?"

   "Sure," Nina shrugged, "but I'm not you and . . .  We can be together
and all, but it's not the same.  She misses you."

   I felt relieved.  I also felt very sorry for Sophie.  It wasn't until
later that I realised why Nina was down.  I guess we all had lost
something, but I'm not sure any of us were able to see clearly enough to
acknowledge more than our own losses.

   "Tell her I miss her very much, too.  I hope that we'll get a chance to
be together soon."

   "So do I.  She really needs cheering up," Nina said.

   - - -

   Talking to Nina put a lid on my jealousy, but it didn't make me any
happier.  I knew that Sophie was feeling as low as I was, but it was hardly
any consolation.  I lay at night and wondered what would happen if I
knocked on the wall.  Would Sophie know it was me?  Could we signal each
other like isolated prisoners?  I seriously considered drilling a hole in
the wall.  I didn't, because I remembered Sophie's room as very clean and
even if I would be able to stay clear of her drawer and wardrobe, the dust
would be spotted immediately.  Another great idea down the drain.

   Life dragged on for a month after Sophie had returned, before anything
happened.  It was so obvious and it had been staring me in the face all the
time.  I could have kicked myself that Saturday morning, when I finally
realised that we would have been able to meet all the time.

   I was up a little late that day and I'd just got out of the shower, when
I heard Sophie's front door open and her parents talking.  I looked out
through the door spy to catch a glimpse of Sophie and I was lucky: she
walked past my door just as I looked, and I saw she was carrying a heavy,
open bag, full of books.  Library books!  I rushed to the bedroom to put on
some clothes, skipped breakfast and hurried down to the library.

   It took a while to locate Sophie.  The library had been expanded a few
years back.  It consisted of two buildings, the old and the new.  The new
building contained the children's section, reading room and a multimedia
section.  The rest was still in the old building.  I found Sophie in the
old building, kneeling between two tall shelves.  She didn't notice me
until knelt down next to her.

   "Eric!"

   It sounded so loud in the silence of the library and scared her a
little.

   "Eric," she repeated, this time whispering.  "What are you . . .  How
did you . . .Oh, I've missed you so much."

   She threw her arms around my neck and hugged me really tight.  We were
still kneeling and I could feel my balance slip.  It's incredible how many
terrible thoughts that are able to pass through your head in a fraction of
a second.  As we fell towards the shelves, I imagined how they would fall
like dominoes.  It didn't happen, of course.  Sophie seemed completely
oblivious to our position and squeezed me tightly for a long time.

   When she finally let go and looked at me, there were tears in her eyes.
She tried to speak but nothing came out.  We got up, only to embrace each
other again.  I didn't know what to say, or perhaps I was afraid that my
voice would fail me, too.  It took a couple of minutes, before we were
ready to talk.

   "You don't know how much I've missed you," I finally said.

   "Not as much as I have missed you," Sophie said, laughing through her
tears.

   We didn't have time to argue about it.  An elderly man passed our row
and looked disapprovingly at us.  We held back for a few seconds after he
had passed, before we started laughing as quietly as possible.

   It was so wonderful to talk again.  We almost forgot the time and place
and it was sheer luck the Sophie took a look at her watch just in time for
her to get out in front of the library, before her parents came to pick her
up.  We hastily agreed to meet in the library next Saturday.

   Just talking was fine, and I realised that being close and talking was
what I'd missed the most.  It wasn't until Sunday that I began thinking
about a way to meet with Sophie in a place where we could be more intimate,
but it still wasn't an urgent need for me.

   The following Saturdays, I went to the library early and waited for
Sophie to arrive.  In trying to work out a way for us to meet privately, I
reasoned that we would normally have an hour and a half before Sophie's
parents picked her up again.  Walking back to my place took around twenty
minutes, twenty more to get back.  We would have to leave at least ten
minutes slack to be sure to make it in time and Sophie would need some time
to get books at the library.  With a little luck, we would have half an
hour and there was still the risk that Sophie's parents would go home first
and unload some of the things they had bought, seeing us on the way.  It
was simply not worth running the risk.

   We stayed in the most deserted part of the old building and we were able
to kiss and touch a little, but always at the risk of being disturbed.  In
the beginning we were very cautious, only kissing and discretely touching
each other through out clothes, but after a couple of weeks, we became more
daring.

   We had found a shielded spot where they had put in a couple of extra
shelves, creating something best described as a labyrinth.  We would be
able to hear if anyone was coming, but in the worst case only a few seconds
in advance.  Still, it was better than an open row and we could do a little
more.

   The fourth Saturday, we both wore loose clothing.  Once we were inside
the labyrinth, we embraced and our hands began to explore each other while
we talked, but after a few minutes we could no longer concentrate on even
the simplest conversation.  After fifteen minutes, we realised that it was
a very bad idea, but it was already too late to stop.  We got more and more
worked up and after half an hour, we were almost ready to rip our clothes
off and make love on the floor.

   I was standing behind Sophie with one hand under her shirt.  Her bra had
been pushed up and I caressed her breasts and nipples.  My other hand was
inside her skirt and panties.  Sophie was breathing hard and her pussy was
sopping wet.  She had one hand behind her, reaching down into my loose
trousers and jocks, slowly caressing my cock.

   Sophie tried to spread her legs more, to give me better access, but the
result was that her panties tightened and made it difficult for me to move
my hands and fingers.

   "Sophie, take off your panties," I whispered into her ear.

   She didn't hesitate, but eagerly bent down and took them off.  Sophie
was beyond herself with excitement and forgot all about me and my cock,
which was actually a relief for me at that point, because I was worried
that I'd make a big, wet spot in my trousers.  That fear distracted me to a
point where I no longer could enjoy Sophie's reactions to my touches.

   Sophie began to whimper louder and I had to hush her.  The spot we had
chosen was secluded but only protected against prying eyes; it wasn't
soundproof.  It was hard for her to keep quiet and when I hushed her the
third time, she took her panties, which had been holding in her hand, and
stuffed them into her mouth.

   I'm sure Sophie would have given us away if she hadn't gagged herself.
The muffled whimpers and cries were loud enough even with the gag.  It was
risky but there was no turning back.  Sophie was getting very close to
coming and I was so much into it that I simply didn't want to stop.  I
don't know if I'd have heard anyone approaching us.  I was just so caught
up in Sophie's excitement, caressing her tits and pussy.

   She came like fireworks: A big explosion that cascaded into several
smaller explosions.  I know that an orgasm only last perhaps twenty
seconds, but we were in a completely silent library, and it felt like it
lasted for several minutes.  I was sure everybody could hear what was going
on.  Sophie's body trembled and jerked in my arms and she bit down hard
into her panties, trying to be as silent as possible.  Finally, she
collapsed and leaned back against me, very relaxed and completely confident
that I could hold her up.  Her legs were like jelly and I had to hold her
weight for at least a minute, before she began to regain some of her
strength.

   Apparently nobody heard us.  We stood and listened in the silence for a
minute, but we were alone.

   "Oh God, Eric.  That was so wonderful," Sophie whispered.  "I really
want to feel you inside me."

   "So would I, but it's too risky and I haven't got any condoms," I
whispered back.

   Sophie was working her warm, smooth hands into my jocks again and smiled
up at me.

   "I want you to make you come, too," she said.

   "You better not.  I don't want to go home with a big wet spot."

   "Hmmm, there's a way," Sophie said.

   She smiled wickedly and pulled her hands out and began to open my fly. I
was torn between my urge to feel her warm, wet mouth around my cock and the
fear of being caught with my cock out.  It would be pretty hard to get it
back in, once it was out.  Two voices hollered in my head, but the voice
that told me I needed release, won.  I didn't have it in me to stop Sophie.


   Her warm hands snaked in through my open fly and coaxed my cock out.  It
wasn't easy and again I thought about how difficult it would be to hide it
away quickly, but I still didn't have the strength to stop her.  When her
lips pushed down, pushing the foreskin away from the head, I forgot
everything around me.  It had been over two months since I'd felt anything
but my own hands and I was in heaven.

   Sophie didn't tease me.  She worked fast and was determined to make me
come as quickly as possible.  At least it felt that way.  It felt
wonderful. I put my hands on her head, primarily to steady myself.  I was
very, very aroused already and it only took her a couple of minutes to
bring me way over the top.  As a sheer reflex, I pressed her head against
my crotch as I came.  She had her hand wrapped around my shaft, so I didn't
choke her; I just came and came and came.  If I had pumped as much cum into
her mouth as it felt like I did, she would have drowned, but she swallowed
it all without any problems.

   We had taken a great risk, doing what we did in a public library.  With
the pressure gone, I saw things more clearly.  I was just about to say that
this would have to be the only time we did it in the library, when Sophie
broke the silence.

   "This was so great.  We can do this every Saturday."

   She looked so happy and I didn't want to disappoint her.  After all,
maybe it was just me, worrying too much.  And it had been wonderful.





   To be continued.



   You can find more stories written by me at:
/~henlar/ ftp://ftp.asstr.org/pub/Authors/henlar