His Naked Neighbor

His Naked Neighbor

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There’s no accident about the fact that Sheila likes to walk around entirely nude — especially when she has a captivated audience.

The first time I caught sight of my next-door neighbor naked, I was sure there had been some mistake. That’s how startling I found the situation. Was I dreaming? I’d fantasized about a scenario like this, but I had never found myself in a situation even remotely as sexy.

I was walking through the backyard of the six-plex to the laundry room, and I happened to spy a movement to my left. I turned and saw her. Sheila was standing on her small balcony, talking on a phone, and she was entirely — that is to say, completely and utterly — naked. She was faced away from me at first, but then she turned in my direction and did the most amazing, unexpected thing. She waved. I paused, flushed, shook my head, and then hurried to the laundry room. Damn. I had always thought Sheila was a hot little number, with her red hair and freckled skin, but I hadn’t known until that moment exactly how sizzling she was.

As I loaded my laundry, I replayed the way she’d looked. Her long cinnamon-colored hair had been up on top of her head, and I’d discovered that the freckles I’d always admired on the bridge of her nose and her cheekbones were all over her body. Then, of course, there was the fact that she was a natural redhead. She’d had enough of a triangle-shaped bush for me to see that the curly pubes matched her gorgeous, thick mane.

The industrial washer was on. In went my jeans. In went my socks. I continued to daydream about Sheila, about her pert breasts, about the tattoo of a hummingbird I’d never seen before. When would I have? The tattoo was fluttering right at her hipline, which was normally hidden under street clothes. Now, I had a voluptuous vision to immortalize in my mind.

When I closed the lid on the laundry, I realized I hadn’t added the soap. My thoughts had been so captivated by my naked neighbor that I’d put in the clothes without thinking of the suds! I rectified the situation, and I realized my heart was thudding as fast as the rotor on the washing machine. Catching Sheila naked had done more than simply given me a hard-on — which was definitely a fact. I found I wanted to see more of her, or at least to see her closer, to talk to her, maybe to actually be naked with her.

The truth of the matter is that I was undone.

I tried to come up with clever conversational gambits, in case she was still out there chatting on the phone. “Come here often” was out — as we both lived in the same building. “I’ll show you mine now that you’ve shown me yours… ” struck me as comical.

By the time I returned to my apartment, Sheila had gone back into her own pad. The curtains were down, and there was no sight of my nubile goddess. I berated myself for not seizing the opportunity when it had been presented to me. That wouldn’t happen again.

I jerked off that night to the image of my naughty neighbor standing there in the sunshine, basking in the warm afternoon light. My fantasies were incredibly detailed. I imagined joining her on the balcony, taking off my own clothes, fucking her against the iron railing and then coming all over her stripped-bare body. I fantasized that she would tell me she’d stood there naked just for me, wanting me to catch her.

I wondered how she felt about me knowing what she looked like, but ultimately I chalked up the whole situation to an accident — maybe she’d forgotten to put clothes on. Whatever the reason, the situation had worked in my favor.

The next time I saw Sheila naked was the following morning. I was walking from the garage to my apartment. Again, a flurry of movement caught my eye. That flurry was Sheila, and Sheila was nude.

This couldn’t have been unplanned because she was at her car, next to mine, and she was bent over and rummaging around the backseat, obviously in search of something. I stood there, mouth open, admiring her comely hindquarters. How could I help myself? This beautiful vixen was only feet away from me, and her ass — her sublime, curvaceous, gold-freckled ass — was practically close enough for me to kiss.

I very much did want to see the tattoo up-close. But that would have meant going on my knees in the car park and getting face-to-snatch with Sheila.

I had no idea what I ought to do. How did a gentleman behave in a situation like this? Aside from spotting Sheila on her balcony the previous afternoon — I’d never accidentally come across a naked woman before. I never went to nude beaches. I didn’t habit nudist colonies. Should I go back to my apartment, wait a few minutes, and then return? That was my first thought. But immediately a second voice chimed up in my head: Why should I do that? I had as much right to be in the car park as she did. This was the time I left for work every day. My schedule was as regular as clockwork. That made me pause. Sheila had to have known I was doing my laundry when she took her alfresco phone call. I always did my laundry at the same time on Sunday afternoons. She had to know I would be heading to my car at this moment. I left precisely at 7:45 every weekday.

I cleared my throat.

Sheila backed out of her car and looked at me, smiling. She did not try to cover her body. She did not cross her arms over her captivating breasts. She did not turn sideways to attempt to hide her private parts. If anything, she seemed to be inviting me to stare more. So I did.

“Hiya, Keith,” she said. “I was looking for a dress I wanted to wear today. I thought I had picked it up with the rest of my dry-cleaning, but I guess I didn’t.”

“So you went outside naked?” The concept baffled me.

“Well, it didn’t make a lot of sense to get dressed twice, you know?”

I didn’t have an answer for that. I would never have gone outside in my altogether. If I wanted something in my car, I would have put on clothes and then gone and gotten the item. Even if there was a fire in my house and I’d been in the shower, I would have grabbed a robe before fleeing the flames. However, I did not want to argue with Sheila’s lovely logic, because her wicked way of thinking had resulted in the fact that this bodacious beauty was naked yet again.

Sheila smiled at me. I smiled back at her. She cocked a hip in my direction. I mentally slapped myself. This girl wants you, that voice in my head chided me. Why are you not flirting with her? Why are you not talking to her?”

“I like your tattoo,” I said after a lengthy pause in which I fucked her six ways to Sunday … in my mind.

“Oh, so do I,” Sheila gushed, and she took a step closer to me. “Do you want to see it up close, Keith? The artist’s a friend of mine, and she’s really talented. I’m planning on adding a rose above and maybe a vine around my lower leg.”

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