Neighbor Girl
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Neighbor Girl
Chapter 1
They must have been roses. Viewed from the outside, the curtains were light,either white or beige, with darker spots in no apparent pattern. He could rememberwhen they, his neighbors, had first put up the curtains. What had he been,twelve? The absolute time or age did not matter; he remembered it was the summerhe and Jessica had spent nearly all their time at the little lake near town,the summer when it rained so much. Of course they could not be expected totake swim suits all the time, could they? Besides, such things were a big hassle.They had fallen asleep one afternoon and been late for dinner, and their parentshad come looking only to find them lying together naked on a towel. The curtainshad gone up shortly after. Had it been the next day?
Jonah had not put two and two together then but he could see now how theevents must have been related. Their parents had never condemned them, nevermade them feel as if they had done anything dirty, but there still grew betweenJonah and Jessica some kind of invisible resistance, a force that kept themapart. Perhaps it was a result of the fact that, even though they had actuallydone nothing untoward and their time together had always been quite innocent,each of them had harbored thoughts of taking their relationship farther, toa place neither had ever been before. Their parents had enforced no changein their friendship, but the change had happened nonetheless. Perhaps, hadJonah been inclined to look, he would have seen it coming.
But now all he could see was her curtains, and all he had left were theirmemories.
They had not been together much, especially since high school had startedtwo years ago. Of course there were the dances and parties where they madesmall talk, and the hellos in the hallway, but that sort of thing just wasn'tas satisfying as really being close to her had once been. This year thingswere going to change, Jonah decided. If nothing else, he had an excuse to spenda little time with her now, and no one had an excuse to keep him away; shewould be a varsity cheerleader and he would be a varsity linebacker. Upperclassmencould no longer claim "dibs."
Jonah took a few moments of well-earned rest before dinner, lying motionlesson his bed, watching a bird through the window, letting his body relax entirely,something that wasn't easy after a long practice. He and Jessica used to climbin that tree. That had been her hideout, his lookout, either a secret lairfor the criminal or the headquarters of the police. Cops and Robbers had beena favorite game of theirs and she had never liked being the cop. "The goodguys should win," she explained, "and I run slower than you."
That tree had been her prison one day as well, when he hung her there byher wrists. What had driven him to do such insane things as a child? Jessica'ssmile and the power of suggestion, probably. It had been mostly her idea, herfault. She never played along very well. She was too easy to catch and didnot put much effort into escaping, so they came up with ways to encourage her.
"If you get loose, I'll ask my mom to make some kool-aid and let us havesome cookies," he remembered suggesting on that day.
"No!" she had shouted immediately. "No, you have to at least find out whereI hid the loot first. Question me."
"How do I do that?"
First by tickling her in all her worst tickly places. That didn't work. Shethen suggested that he spank her.
It was all her idea. And he had never been more afraid than when he gaveher ten good, hard swats with the palm of his hand. It wasn't the first time(after all, "birthday swats" were a tradition) but it was the first time hehad done it . . . like that. He would never have been able to explain himselfat the time.
That didn't work either.
She had finally asked him to do what his mother did, and he had the willowswitch in hand when his mother informed them that dinner was on the table andasked if Jessica wanted to eat. They accepted, though it was only after anargument that Jonah's mother managed to get Jessica to let Jonah remove herhandcuffs; Jessica did not think it was a good idea to let a prisoner freelike that, but Mrs. Mitchell did not think she should eat like a dog at thetable.
Even then Jonah somehow had the instinct to know that he should not be caughtwith the switch, the one he cast to the ground before his mother saw them,and Jessica knew enough that she tugged the bit of rope that would releaseher from the tree before Mrs. Mitchell rounded the corner. Even then they hadknown better than to get caught, even though nothing seemed immediately wrongwith what they were doing.
Perhaps that was why the curtain was closed now.
He only realized that he had dozed off when he awoke to the sound of a ringingphone. He had one in his room that he never used, and by the time he dug downto the phone through a pile of clothes, the ringing had stopped and he leftthe phone in its cradle.
"Jonah, it's for you," his mother called from downstairs.
"Ok," he shouted back, picking up the phone. "I've got it," he said intothe receiver. "Hello?"
His mother hung up before he heard anything else and then the caller said, "Wakeup, sleepyhead."
She hung up immediately but Jonah already knew who had called, because hewas certain that had been Jessica's voice. He looked across the distance betweentheir houses, past the bird in their tree, and his eyes fell upon her secondfloor window, a little down and to the right of his. The curtains were open.
"Jonah, are you ready to eat?"
# # #
During the two weeks of two-a-day practices that preceded the beginning ofschool for all football players, excess energy was hard to come by. Jonah normallyfinished his dinner, fell into his bed, and was asleep immediately. But somethingabout this night was not normal. The curtains were still open and the lightwas on.
Jonah turned on the light on his desk, on the other side of the room; itcast only shadows onto his bed where he lay, staring into Jessica's room whereall her lights were on. Her bed was covered in pillows and teddy bears, a smallspot cleared off on one side, probably where she slept. Her dresser held afew books, some makeup, and what looked to be a curling iron or something,a long bit of white with an electric cord sticking out the back, plugged intothe wall beside the dresser.
The door opened and Jessica entered the room. She took a deep breath andstretched, then began to remove her long-sleeve blue blouse. Jonah's breathcaught in his throat when she turned her back on him, leaving him to wonderwhat she had on underneath. The question was answered a moment later when sherevealed a black sports bra, the blouse falling to the floor behind her. Herskirt followed it, leaving only a black thong to cover her womanhood. It didn'tdo so well at covering her ass. She turned toward him and he held his breath,waiting for her to notice his presence, thinking suddenly that she just mightbe able to see him.
If she did, she did not show it. She stretched once again, raising her armstogether, fingers entwined, behind her back, over her head. She could not havebetter exhibited her bust on purpose. What was she doing? She tied back herhair and lay down on something sitting beside the dresser. Was it a weightbench? Yes it was, complete with a rack for a weight bar. He was getting towatch her work out!
The sight was a sensual experience for Jonah as she flew through her setswith the bar and with dumbbells, stopping only to set the incline on her benchso that she could do crunches, and she did them quite well. She wasn't theonly one feeling the heat when she was done and stood before the mirror sweating,her breasts rising and falling with her rhythm as he gazed on her profile.She raised her arms slowly, holding them straight out from her sides, and madea bow. Did she know he was there after all?
No, it was the beginning of a dance routine. Filled with spins and kicksand leaps and clapping, it must have been a routine the cheerleaders were preparingfor a pep rally, though he had doubts as to whether or not some of the edgiermoves would be welcome in school and felt the cheerleaders' sponsor would probablyhave them tone things down a bit. The combination of the tight bra and hertight chest made for minimal bounce, but he did see what quite enough: herbody was a work of art and any movement she made was poetry. Oh yes, she wasbeautiful.
Panting when she finished, at last out of breath, Jessica rolled her shouldersand took a seat on the bench, reaching for the white thing on the dresser.It was not a curling iron, but rather some sort of massage device, it seemed,and it looked like she was using it to work out some soreness. She gave herright shoulder special attention as well as a spot in her back, not to mentionher abdominal muscles; she had driven them especially hard, and Jonah had tosay that they looked exceptional for it. But then the massager slipped a littlelower. One too many high kicks? Her head fell back, her mouth open. Jonah hadbeen hard already, but now his member stood at full attention. Was it possible?Could Jessica be masturbating?
Jonah was certain that was exactly what she was doing. First Jonah's mouthhit the floor, then Jessica's panties followed suit as she continued to buzzher pussy for all she was worth, her free hand alternating between rubbingher sex and her bust. Jonah was thankful for the incline on the bench, becauseit meant he could see everything, from her pumping hips to her heaving titsto her flushed face, even when she lay back. It seemed like hours went by,but it could not have been long before Jessica stripped off her workout braand began kneading her breast flesh in earnest.
Jonah watched in awe as she began pinching and pulling at her nipples, deliveringexactly the sort of rough treatment he'd always been warned against by anysource of sexual advice. First her left, then her right, and then her leftagain. She went back and forth, pinching and twisting, her mouth opening andclosing, gritting her teeth. He could imagine her breath hissing out at thepain she was adding to the other exquisite sensations she was feeling. He didnot have to imagine her body pulsing with lustful heat; he could see it plainas day written all over her face.
Soon Jessica was not the only one stroking herself. She opened a drawer onher dresser and produced a small bottle filled with clear liquid, which shepoured over her entire front side, rubbing it into her skin with both hands.It must have been oil, but it was certainly not necessary from a visual standpoint,as she was already covered in her own natural oil and lubricant. Jonah almostwished he had some of his own, a little something to improve the feeling hewas enjoying just then, but he did not think long about it. A new sight throughthe window distracted his thoughts: a change had come over Jessica.
She stiffened on the bench, her entire face clenched, eyes squeezed tightshut against some irresistible sensation. Her chest rose fell faster than everbefore as she panted for air, unable to contain even a small lungful for morethan an instant. She lay there, motionless, for only a few seconds, but inthose few seconds Jonah experienced an eternity, his hand moving faster allthe while. It felt so good it hurt!
And the same was true for Jessica in the other room. Her eyes and mouth flewopen in the throes of her agonizing ecstasy and she jerked on the bench, herback arching back as far as it could and giving Jonah a great view of her pussyand tits, her head falling backward out of view. Jonah felt his release comingand did not fight, letting his seed spurt across the wooden floor. He couldclean up later; just then all he cared about was the horny, lovely nymph inthe window.
She lay motionless, limp, fulfilled, and Jonah watched the sweat drip downher body, the juice running out of her pussy. He imagined he could even hearher slow, ragged breathing. He could hear his own. And he could scarce believewhat had just taken place. What a perfect moment! But like all such things,this, too, had to come to an end. Jessica, at last, rose from the bench andpulled her sweat-darkened hair free of its ponytail, then stepped through thedoor on the back side of her room, the one Jonah knew would take her to theupstairs bathroom.
He looked at the clock. It was getting late and he had to rise early forpractice tomorrow, so he had to get to sleep. But first he took a quick showerin a vain attempt to force thoughts of Jessica from his mind. Why were thecurtains open? Had she deliberately put on a show? What would she have doneif she had known he was watching? For a moment he imagined a sight where thetwo of them, staring quite deliberately at one another, climaxed together ina shared sexual experience. No, he had to go to sleep. Fantasies like thatwere best saved for another day.
But why were the curtains open?
# # #
He could recall this day from years ago, but he did not see things exactlyas he remembered them.
"Jonah?" Jessica called to him. Where was she at? He remembered that he hadleft her tied beneath the tree.
There she was, just as he had left her then, except that the rope he usedon her wrists was much shorter to make up for her added height. She was standingon tiptoe to take some of her weight off her wrists and shoulders and he watchedas her legs struggled to support her. She must have been there for a whilealready, the muscles of her calf bearing mute testimony to the long minutesshe had awaited him as they shook with the strain.
It was hot outside and there was no breeze between the houses, so sweat haddampened the collar of her gray t-shirt and darkened the slopes of fabric thatcovered the region between her breasts. Her breathing was less than relaxedas she at last gave in and let her weight fall on her arms once again. "I'llnever tell you," she teased, almost as if to reassure him. But her voice lackedthe confidence it had displayed before.
"I think you'll change your mind," said Jonah, feeling far more confidencenow than he had back then.
"Why don't you make me?" Her voice was anxious, but her smile bright andpure.
"I think I will."
Jessica stood on tiptoe again as Jonah began to run his fingertips over allof her most ticklish places, like the back of her neck, her armpits, the backsof her knees, her belly, the soles of her feet. He used a blade of grass togreater effect as he attacked her once again, pulling her shirt up out of theway this time to reach the soft skin of her abdomen.
"Actually, I think I should just take this thing off," he said as if talkingto himself.
"You can't do that!" said Jessica, trying very hard and with only marginalsuccess not to shout.
"Why can't I?"
Blood rushed to her face. "I'm . . ." she hesitated. ". . . I'm not wearingany underwear."
"Hmm. Well," Jonah said with a grin, "that's not much of a reason. I thoughtyou were going to say something about your big older brother who would kickmy ass."
"I don't have an older brother!"
His grin spread wider. "I know."
"No!"
"If you don't want everyone to see what you've got, why don't you just tellme what I want to hear?"
He could see the frustration in her eyes as she struggled with her options,weighing the pain of surrender against the pain of defiance . . . .
# # #
Jonah had never been more distracted by anything ever before in his life.He barely remembered the dream he'd been having just moments before his alarmclock had gone off that morning but he knew it must have been hot: he'd beenfeeling it all day long. There had even been a rather ticklish moment in thelocker room while dressing out when she came once again unbidden to his mindand certain lifting sensations came unbidden to his loins.
And now the cheerleaders were going through their routine at the stadiumwhile the varsity and junior varsity football teams met one another in theintersquad scrimmage. With each passing minute it was harder to keep his eyesoff her, the hard nipples underneath her tight white shirt, the long legs shekept spreading and tossing into the air, the wild eyes that seemed to haunthim everywhere he turned.
What was that, the snap count? His attention returned to the field only tosee the quarterback dropping back for a pass and to find his gap, the one throughwhich he was supposed to blitz, being closed by one of the linemen. His feettore at the grass and he barely perceived the impact, the sound of the helmets,the incredible surge of power through his arm as he flung the lineman out ofthe way and then broke down in front of his target.
Of course he never saw the defensive tackle who had broken through from theother side and was trying desperately *not* to hit their all-important quarterback,the one player who was off limits in practice. He did he see the too-eageryoung fullback who apparently didn't realize that the play was over, but eventhough he was prepared for the fullback . . .
. . . The next thing he knew was that he was lying on the ground and thathis arm hurt. Bad.
# # #
He lay on his bed after football once again, staring at the curtains, theside of the house, the tree between them. That little old tree was much smallernow than in his dream. Jessica would never actually fit under it in real life;she had grown too much since their younger days. Not that it mattered. He hadno idea what had happened yesterday, but he was certain it would never happenagain. Their shared experience was a thing that would be best if soon forgottenand never revisited. Besides that, what would he do this time? His partnerin crime was constrained by a cast and sling and he had never been able toget much satisfaction from his off hand. What would he do, ask Jessica forhelp?
And at that thought he wondered if she might have seen him the previous night.How could she have missed him when he could see her so clearly? The thoughtmade his heart beat faster in fear: what might she do? That had to be why thecurtains were closed. He suddenly wondered at what the consequences might be.But then again, he reassured himself, could she possibly have been paying attentionto him with her concentration fixed so firmly on her own pleasure?
But then his mind wandered back to his original question: why had the curtainsbeen open to begin with?
He didn't want to think about it anymore. He wanted dinner to be ready sothat he could eat and go to bed. After a long day like this, his only hopewas to look forward to tomorrow. Tomorrow was Saturday, after all; why shouldn'tthings be better then? And why hadn't his mother called yet? He rose from hisbed and plodded downstairs to see if he could just make a sandwich and getthings over with for the night.
It looked like peanut butter was out of the question since it required twohands. He took the ham from the refrigerator and placed it and the bread onthe table while he went to ask his mother if there was any mustard left inthe house.
"Jonah, is that you?" she asked, her back turned on him while she concentratedon his little brother's math homework.
"Yeah," said Jonah, and he asked about the mustard.
"No, honey, I think I used the last of it the other night," she answered,tapping a few numbers into her calculator.
He shrugged and started back toward the kitchen.
"Wait a minute, honey," she said before he was quite gone. "Jessica calledagain today. She said she was sorry to hear about your arm and she was wonderingif you'd let her sign the cast or help carry your books, that sort of thing.She said she had a lot of homework, but that it would be all right if you cameby this evening after dinner."
Feelings of anticipation and dread rose in his stomach. What did she reallywant to see him about? But he said, "All right. Well, I'll head over in a minute,then."
"So soon?" his mother asked, glancing up at the clock on the wall. "Oh! Iforgot about dinner! You'd better call Jessica and tell her that you'll belate."
"You're cooking something after all?"
"Of course. Just tell her that you'll be over at nine o'clock and not eight."
# # #
He rung Durhams' doorbell and stood outside for a moment before Mrs. Durhamanswered, swinging open the door with a smile. "Oh, Jonah, how do you feel?"
"I'm all right, Mrs. Durham," said Jonah, entering as she beckoned him inside.
"I'm so glad you called," said Mrs. Durham. "Jessica seemed quite worriedabout you. But she's been up in her room studying for a good two or three hoursnow so there's a good chance she's fallen asleep. Why don't you just go wakeher up?"
There must have been a thousand things running through his mind as he mountedthose stairs, things ranging from wondering how he smelled to thinking aboutwhat he would say, pondering whether or not to mention last night, trying toguess what she might do when she saw him. Not one of them had anything to dowith his cast or her signing it or her carrying his books for him or anythingof the sort.
All innocence was washed away in that moment and it seemed there was no purething left in the world that he could not defile by simply looking at it. Likethe light switch at the top of the stairs. Why did he feel so guilty just now,all of a sudden? Why hadn't he had the same feelings yesterday? And why shouldn'tshe be at least partially to blame? After all, it was she who had led him intothis in the first place; what kind of slut masturbated before an open windowwhile knowing her horny neighbor would be looking on? That bitch! It was allher fault to begin with.
And exactly that thought was on his mind when he knocked on the door andgot no answer, and when he opened the door and saw nothing because the lightswere off, and when he turned on the lights . . .
. . . And there she was.
Jessica was lying naked on the weight bench and facing the door, which hequickly shut while his eyes tried to drink in as much of the sight before himas he could. Each of her hands was handcuffed to one of the sturdy posts, weldedto the frame of the bench, that were intended to support a weight bar, leavingher smoothly muscled arms entirely immobile, though not strained. Her wonderfullegs were bound to the weight bar by a pair of cable ties at each end, pullingher apart at the middle and leaving the insides of her shapely thighs exposed,not to mention everything in between them. The bar was loaded with a hundredpounds of weights and itself weighed in at 50 pounds, so there was nothingmuch she could do to hide her nudity even had she so desired. Buried in hersex was the massager to which Jonah had been introduced the previous day, andhe could see it was turned on at the highest setting. And she had no idea whatwas going on.
He could see the blue rubber line running out of one of her ears, acrossher neck, and into the other ear: earplugs. They went quite well with the handkerchiefshe'd tied over her eyes in order to blind herself. Perhaps she had heard himknock or even enter, but she had no idea who he was. She did not know who wasdrinking in her exposed beauty, watching the sweat of her lust pour off herbody, staring at her bosom as it rose and fell at a harried pace, carried on,faster, harder, like the beat of her heart, on the pounding waves of her ravenoushunger, the horrific pleasure emanating from her pussy.
He played with the clothespins that gnawed at her nipples, horrible yellowplastic ones that he remembered as being hurtful to his fingers, and thoughthow they must have been pure agony for Jessica. And she could only wonder atwho her tormentor might be as she squirmed under his treatment, biting at herlip to keep silent when he twisted one clothespin all the way around and thenlet go. She should have gagged herself, he thought, and slipped his fingerinto her hole alongside the vibrator.
She whimpered.
Her whole body already shined, illumined by her sweat and by the hot desklight he now trained on her, but he decided she needed something more. He lookedin her desk drawer, took out the bottle he had seen her use before, and drizzledit liberally over her tanned flesh, letting the cool oil contrast with herhot skin as he blew over her body, intensifying the sensations. It wasn't untiljust before he began to massage the oil into her skin that he read the labeland realized that the oil was not simply a lubricant, but was also spiced somehow,that she would be far more than just the heat of the lamp in a moment. Of coursethat didn't stop him.
In fact, he paid special attention to her most sensitive areas. He triedto be sensual, caressing, and yet firm all at once, not easy things to accomplishgracefully with only one hand. And yet, judging only from the frayed gaspswith which she now caught her breath, he could only feel he must have beendoing something right. His eyes fell on the nipples he had left alone untilnow and he poured extra oil on top of them before removing his sling in directdisobedience of his doctor's orders: those had to come off all at once, hedecided. He removed her earplugs.
"Shhh," he warned, careful not to allow his voice to show through his command.
His fingers came to rest on the peaks of her chest and he waited a momentto allow everything to build, preparing to remove the clothespins and watchher attempt to contain her response.
"Wait!" a small voice interrupted, a whisper on the verge of breaking intoa sob. "I can't . . ." she protested, finding difficulty in speaking. "I'llcry. I can't keep quiet if you do that."
He released a sigh of disappointment. Was she backing down now, finally,for the first time?
But she had not finished. "There's a gag in the other drawer. Jam that inmy mouth and . . ." she hesitated, taking a deeper breath. "And then you cando it."
The drawer squeaked when he opened it and again when he closed it, and heheld the red gag to her lips for only an instant before her mouth opened andshe accepted it, moaning something that sounded like, "Thank you."
"Are you ready?" he asked, finally allowing her to hear him.
Her whole body tensed, her fine muscles jerking taut at the sound of hisvoice. Was this the moment she had been waiting for?
She nodded.
"You look like you need to cum."
She began to tremble.
"Do you think you can?"
She nodded.
"Even with all the pain?"
She nodded.
"Then do it."
And she did, as soon as the clothespins were off. Her arms pulled at thehandcuffs until he was afraid she would cut open her wrists, her every musclejerked and spasmed and her breast flesh twitched and bounced while her abdomenlurched, her legs kicking out and pulling the weight off the floor as her cuntseemed about to devour the vibrator. She shook her head, slinging her hairand her sweat in every direction, her face etched in what seemed a parody ofeither pain or pleasure at the sheer power of her feelings.
Jonah slowly, gently, pulled the vibrator from her hole and took the gagfrom her mouth, stroking her sweat-drenched cheek and rubbing a bit of droolinto her face. He bent to kiss her, like a prince awakening a sleeping beauty,and the feel and taste of her lingered on his lips as he withdrew. With onelast caress he swept the hair from before her eyes and loosened the blindfold,pulling it down around her neck.
"Thank you," she gasped when she could stop panting long enough, tears inher eyes.
"You're welcome," said Jonah, taking the key he spotted on the desk and usingit to free her hands. He saw a pair of nail clippers beside it and, satisfiedthat she could get herself free, turned out the light and turned to go.
"Wait!"
He turned to look at her once again.
She smiled, one of those peaceful, satisfied smiles, and said, "You looklike you need to cum."
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