By Abigail
I heard the elevator reach my floor. That meant my favorite show was about to begin next door, saving me from horrible reality TV. Wednesday night. My neighbor’s husband starts his work week on Wednesday night. I met the couple in the elevator soon after I moved in. She’s a fashion designer. He’s an ER doctor. He does three twelve-hour shifts then he’s off till the following Wednesday. She doesn’t like to be alone. So the stranger shows up. I figure he’s a Sergei or Jacques. That’s the name I’d call out. He’s so handsome. Dark. Thick black hair, smooth face.
He exits the elevator and walks straight to her door. After a brief pause he turns the doorknob and disappears into her apartment. I watch the empty hallway for a few more seconds through my peephole hoping he would reemerge, change his mind. No such luck. Music starts to play. Sounds like Jamiroquai. I wonder who makes the musical selection for their trysts. I would’ve chosen some Oasis; “Fucking in the Bushes,” how appropriate.
I went into the kitchen and decided to put dinner on. I sliced the chicken breast thinly after cutting off the fat. I coated the first piece of chicken in egg and milk. The mixture had the consistency of semen. I put my nose to the bowl and inhaled. The scent was similar – that heavy protein smell. I’ll swallow semen but would never consider tasting what was in that bowl. The first piece of chicken got a generous coating of breadcrumbs and I put it down to rest.
I could hear her moans. She was calling his name this time. Couldn’t quite make it out over Jamiroquai going goo-goo over his cosmic girl. Sounded like a three-syllable name. So he wasn’t a Jacques or Sergei. But he and Jesus were doing a number on her. I envisioned he had her bent over the arm of the couch. Or they were both on their knees, her on all fours. That was one of my favorite positions. I was getting moist between my legs. Chicken goes in egg and milk. Chicken goes in bread crumbs. Chicken placed onto the plate with the rest of the breast pieces awaiting the hot oil. The monotony of my work allowed my mind to wander. Was he holding her by the hair? Did he grab her hips and pull her back into him? I coated my frying pan with about an inch of oil and turned the heat up. Oil dripped down the side of the bottle as I replaced the cap. I wiped it off with my finger and used it to massage my clit.
The chicken breasts were a golden brown. Two shades lighter than my own. I got splashed with hot oil 
that popped. I wiped the oil off of my arm. It hadn’t stayed on my skin long enough to leave a mark. I took the chicken breast out the pan and blotted them with paper towels. My neighbors were probably using paper towels to clean up his come. At first, the paper towel was rough against her inner thigh. As he would fold it over to uncover a clean section, the sharp edges were dampened by his sweaty palms. I covered the bottom of my baking pan with pasta sauce and then put the chicken breasts down.
I loved the way my body sunk into my couch, right between the cushions. The perfect cradle for my ass. I could lie in the couch watching television and my nipples would get hard. It fascinated me how much glistening, slippery liquid seeped out of me after I’d come. I never get up right away after an orgasm.
The back of the couch was just the right height to put my leg up on. My other leg hung off the couch, my foot on the floor. My clit was now swollen under my fingers. My neighbor probably has a big one as well. I’ve seen her commit just one fashion faux pas: she was coming back from a run and had major camel toe. The seam of her spandex shorts disappeared between her meaty labia. She works out without underwear like I do. I love the smooth curve of my ass under my spandex shorts. And there’s always the chance I’ll climb my way to an orgasm while on the Stairmaster. I said hello to her that morning as I always do, but couldn’t help stare at her crotch. It spoke to me.
I could feel my juices trickling out of me and down to my ass. I should’ve put a towel underneath. The louder she moaned, the wetter I became. I’ve tried on several occasions to come at the same time as she does. I can do it when I’m watching my favorite porno. The one where the coquettish “young” woman takes it up the ass like a pro. The actor’s money shot coincided with my climax. I could hear my neighbor nearing the finish line. Her animated purrs became intense, growls almost. I was nowhere close, but I kept the rhythmic massage going on my clit until there was silence coming from next door. The droning of didgeridoo entered the air. The stranger would be leaving soon, so I had to be ready. I threw on my cut-offs and a tank top. I tied up the garbage in my kitchen and waited by the door.
About two minutes passed when I heard her door open. I counted to five then opened my apartment door. He looked my way then back at the elevator. I held the garbage bag at arm’s length as I walked past him to the garbage chute.
“Gotta throw out this chicken skin.”
“So you’re the one cooking what smells so good,” he said, following me with his eyes. I smiled. In reflex I held my breath as I opened the chute and dumped the bag.
“You just moved into the building?” I said, feigning ignorance that I prayed he’d see right through.
“No, I’m just here visiting a friend.”
“Oh,” I said, “I like visitors.” My eyes gleamed in response to his. “Did you have a nightcap already?’
“No, I haven’t actually.” He turned completely to me. I ran my eyes down the length of his body, studied his shoes, ogled his crotch, and then landed on his full lips.
The elevator dinged and the door opened. He followed me into my apartment. I was sure that my neighbor was watching us through her peephole.
Angelo was his name. He swirled his Jack on the rocks. The ice cubes clanged against the glass. I had examined his hands and fingers from a distance. They were well manicured and clean. I wondered if they still smelled like my neighbor. She was probably next door, not yet showered, with his deposit still leaking out of her.
“Will you visit me again?” I asked.
“If this visit is worth while.”
I sat in lotus position on the couch. My left lip peeked out from my cut-off shorts. He noticed it. My four-day shadow was apparent. Prickly to the touch. He sipped his drink and looked back down at my crotch.
“Should I have shaved?” I asked.
“No, its fine the way it is.”
“You don’t shave, do you?”
“I’m a man.”
Good answer. I wondered if the same thick hair that covered his head covered his body. I saw a few strands sticking out the top of his shirt. My neighbor had helped him get dressed. Made sure to leave the first three buttons open. Made my work easier. I leaned forward, and took a few of his hairs in my teeth and tugged. I could see his skin and follicles bulge up under my pull. He took in a deep breath through his teeth and he opened his legs for me. I put my elbow on the prominent bulge between his legs. I put a little more weight onto his crotch and he made that sound again.
“Mi piace molto,” he moaned. I adjusted my contact with his penis and grabbed it and his balls with my hand clawed. Like a vice, I took all of my fingers and squeezed. Lightly at first, then harder. If he didn’t slide his hips forward, I would’ve detached them from his body. Angelo stared at me wide-eyed and smiling. He opened his pants. His penis stood up like one of those inflatable dolls with sand at the bottom.
When I put his cock in my mouth I could smell and taste her. It was a sweet flavor, like she had a diet full of oranges and cherries. I sucked till her scent and flavor were gone.. I kept sucking till I could taste his pre-come. I wanted to taste all of him.
I took his balls into my mouth and juggled them with my tongue. Then I tasted his ass. He squirmed. I tugged on his cock like a cow’s teat. I took his drippings and my spit to lubricate my longest finger. I fucked him with my fuck-you finger. These animal sounds emanated from him. I knew when I moved from my spot, there would be a puddle.
My neighbor was mesmerized by what she heard. I was sure of it. She never knew Angelo could make sounds like that. She never knew that sounds alone could make her touch herself.
He slid off my finger and turned around to me. “Let me see you.”
I stood up for him. He didn’t say anything. I turned around for him. Still silence. He grabbed me by the waist and pulled me to my living-room floor.
“I want to see you.” He pushed me onto my back. His intention was clear. I had my hands around my ankles and my elbows on the back of my knees.
“Bella.” He feasted on me while he stroked his cock. When he entered me, his eyes were closed and the veins in his neck popped out from his exertion. My screams were answered by his. He muttered something in Italian and grabbed my hair low, by the scruff of my neck like I was a baby kitten. He held me there till I heard him come. I was filled with his warmth. When he pulled out he wiped the head of his cock clean and sucked his fingers.
“Would you eat milk and raw egg?” I asked. 
His face contorted in disgust.
I nodded, “Me neither.”
His arms and legs wrapped around me like an orangutan. I didn’t recall his limbs being so long.
The next morning we got ready for work. Without any words we relived the night before. “I’ll go get the elevator.” He let himself out my apartment.
I gathered the last of my things – my keys, chapstick, cell phone – and threw them in my bag. Then I took the same path he did out my apartment.
Angelo and my neighbor stood side by side at the elevator like two statues. They didn’t utter a word. When the elevator announced its arrival with a ding, she walked in first. He was second. I followed. She went to one side of the elevator and he stood on the opposite side. Neither of them pressed the button. So I stepped forward and pressed “one” and “door close.” I took my spot between them. We looked like the letter “M,” with me being the lowest part in the middle. I watched the lights come on, then go off in descending order. I swear I heard a collective sigh when we made it to the ground floor without anyone joining our party.
He exited the elevator first. We all exited the building. “I’ll talk to you later, love.” He gave me a kiss on the neck. I smiled.
“Have a good day.” He walked down the block with such a confident swagger; his shoulders and hips swaying just right. It reminded me why I loved to watch him so much. My neighbor took my hand and gave it a squeeze. We held hands till the last possible second as we headed in opposite directions. She winked at me.
“You taste delicious,” I told her.
Visit her at: http://www.myspace.com/iamwriter
Posted by Lisa
Passion Fruit is an online resource for Goddesses filled with sweet, juicy tidbits of information for joyful, sensual living, and some fun too!
