The following night, the rhythmic thumping and passionate moans from next door started up again, and I found myself unable to ignore the invitation Jenny had so boldly extended. I pulled out the pair of panties she had given me, the scent of her arousal still lingering on the fabric. It was a scent that was now etched into my memory, a tantalizing reminder of the fiery passion that had been offered. With trembling hands, I brought the damp material to my nose and inhaled deeply, the smell of her desire filling my nostrils and sending a fresh wave of heat to my core.
I could feel the blood rushing to my groin as I listened to their unabated love-making, their cries of pleasure a symphony that seemed to crescendo with every passing minute. The thumping grew faster, more insistent, and I knew she was close again, her body arching and shaking with the force of her climax. I gripped the panties tightly, the softness of the material a stark contrast to the hardness in my hand. I stroked myself in time with their passion, the scent of her on my fingertips as I traced the outline of my cock, feeling the fabric glide against my skin.
Her screams grew louder, and I knew she was close. I took a deep breath and brought the panties to my face, inhaling her scent deeply. It was intoxicating, a heady mix of desire and sweat that sent me over the edge. I came with a groan, the warmth spilling over my hand and onto the couch cushion beneath me. I leaned back, panting heavily, the fabric still clutched in my fist. The sounds from next door grew softer, and eventually, the silence washed over me once more.
It was a few minutes later when the buzz of my phone shattered the quiet. I glanced down at the screen, my heart racing. It was a message from Jenny: "I came three times tonight. And you?"
The audacity of her text was almost overwhelming. Yet, I couldn't deny the thrill that shot through me as I read her words. I took a deep breath, the scent of her panties still lingering in the air, and typed out a reply with shaking fingers. "Once," I confessed, feeling a strange mix of pride and embarrassment.
Jenny's response was almost immediate. "Once? That's it?" she teased. "I'll have to work harder next time to get you going, old man."
Her words lingered in the air as the door to her apartment slammed shut, and the sound of her friend's footsteps echoed down the hallway. The sudden silence was almost deafening; the only evidence of their existence the faint smell of sex that clung to the fabric of her discarded panties. I couldn't believe what had just transpired, but the sticky mess in my hand was a tangible reminder of the moment we'd shared.
The next few days passed without incident, a welcome reprieve from the tumultuous storm of emotions that had taken up residence in my apartment. The walls remained silent; the only sounds the mundane hum of the fridge and the occasional siren wailing in the distance. I found myself eagerly awaiting the return of the sweet symphony of passion that had become the soundtrack to my nights, but it remained elusive, as if the universe had decided to play a cruel joke on my newfound sense of excitement.
Then, one evening, the knock came. It was gentle but firm, a polite request rather than an urgent demand. I opened the door to find Jenny standing there, her red hair cascading over her shoulders in a way that framed her flushed face. She was wearing a sheer nighty that barely concealed the curves of her body, and she looked at me with a hunger in her eyes that was unmistakable.
"Hi, George," she whispered, her voice thick with need. "My boyfriend's out of town on business, and I'm feeling...lonely."
The implication was clear, and my heart raced at the thought of what might come next. She stepped inside, and the door clicked shut behind her, leaving us in the dimly lit sanctity of my apartment. The air grew thick with tension as she made her way to the couch, her hips swaying gently with each step.
As Jenny reclined, her foot drawn up on the edge of the couch, she began to hike up her nighty with deliberate slowness. The fabric slid over her skin like a lover's caress, revealing the soft, pale flesh of her inner thigh. She parted her legs slightly, and I caught a glimpse of the fiery red hair that matched the fiery spirit I knew she possessed. The anticipation was almost too much to bear as she continued to inch the fabric higher.
When she was fully exposed, she was utterly bare and wet, and I could not keep my eyes from her. Her pussy glistened in the soft light of the room, and I found myself transfixed by the sight. The scent of her arousal filled my nostrils, a heady aphrodisiac that sent a jolt of pure lust coursing through my veins. My cock swelled in my pants, straining against the fabric as if it had a will of its own, begging to be released and to explore the warm, wet cavern before me.
"I know we can't do the full Monty," she said with a wink, "but I've always wondered how those lips of yours would feel down here." She traced a delicate circle around her clit with a shaky finger, and her hips bucked slightly at the touch. "How about a little taste, George?"
Her voice was a siren's call, and I found myself unable to resist. I stepped closer, knees trembling with excitement and nerves. She leaned back, her legs spread wider now, and the sight of her bare pussy was almost too much to handle. I hovered over her, feeling the heat radiating from her body, and lowered my mouth to her. The first touch of my tongue to her clit sent a jolt through both of us, and she gasped, her hand shooting out to grab the back of my head.
I tasted her, exploring her with slow, deliberate strokes, savoring every inch of her folds. She was sweet and salty, a flavor that I'd been craving without even realizing it. Her breathing grew ragged as I worked my tongue over her, and she began to rock her hips in time with my movements. It was a silent symphony of pleasure, a dance that we both knew well, but had never performed together.
Her fingers tightened in my hair, guiding me, urging me to go deeper, to taste her more fully. I obeyed, pushing aside the last of my hesitance and diving into her with an enthusiasm that surprised even me. She moaned, her body arching off the couch, and I felt a surge of pride that I could elicit such a reaction from this vibrant young woman.
"That's it, George," she murmured, her voice thick with lust. "Just like that."
Her moans grew louder, echoing those of the nights that had kept me company in my solitude. It was as if she knew the script, knew exactly what to say to push every button of desire within me. "You dirty old man," she breathed, her words a heady mix of challenge and invitation. "You've been dying to taste this young pussy, haven't you?"
Her voice grew rough with passion as she talked dirty to me, her words a stark contrast to the sweetness of the nurse's uniform she often wore. "You can lick it all you want, George," she said, her eyes half-closed in pleasure. "But you'll never fuck it. It's all his, you know." She paused, her breath catching. "All his to fill and claim, while you're just a sad little peeping tom getting off on the leftovers."
The words stung, but the fire in my groin only grew hotter. I could feel my cock pressing insistently against her thigh, a silent plea for more. Her hand found it, her grip firm and surprisingly strong. She stroked me through the fabric of my pajama bottoms, her movements matching the rhythm of my tongue on her clit. "Mm, you're so hard," she murmured. "I knew you'd love this."
And then, without warning, she pulled away her leg and tightened her legs around my head, trapping me in a prison of passion. Her movements grew erratic, hips bucking as she chased the orgasm that hovered just out of reach. I felt her getting closer, her muscles tensing, the sweetness of her arousal growing stronger with each passing second. It was as if she wanted to devour me, to pull every drop of desire from my body and leave me writhing in ecstasy.
Her hand left my cock, gripping the couch cushion as she used her legs to drive me in deeper. The fabric of her nighty was damp with her need, and I could feel the heat of her pussy against my face, a beacon calling me to bring her to the edge. And so, I obeyed, my tongue working her clit with a fervor that surprised even me, a man who had thought himself long past the point of such hunger.
Then, it happened. Jenny's body tensed, her legs tightened around my head like a vice, and she screamed. I could feel her orgasm rippling through her, a powerful wave that threatened to drown me in the sea of her desire. Her pussy spasmed around my tongue, and the warmth of her climax flooded my mouth as she bucked against me, her little feet pushing into my shoulders, almost lifting me off the floor.
As the wave subsided, she slumped back onto the couch, panting and smiling. "Mmm, George," she murmured, her voice dripping with satisfaction. "That was just what I needed."
Her hand reached out, her fingers ghosting over my cheek before sliding down to my neck. She tugged gently, a silent command that I obeyed without question. I stood, my knees still trembling, and pulled my pajama bottoms down. My cock sprang free, hard and pulsing with need.
Jenny's grin grew wider, a mischievous twinkle in her eye as she took in the sight of me. "Look at you," she said, her voice a playful purr. "So eager."
Her hand slid down my chest, her nails lightly raking over my skin before she reached my cock, which was still standing tall and proud. "But, you know," she began, her tone teasing, "my boyfriend's is way bigger."
I couldn't help but feel a twinge of inadequacy, despite the situation. "No offense," she quickly added, her smile widening as she took my length in her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "But you're cute."
My cheeks flushed with a mix of arousal and embarrassment as she directed me back to my knees. "Now, George," she said, her voice a sultry purr, "I noticed you've got a bit of a thing for my feet." She lifted one of her small, dainty feet, the arch high and her toes painted a vibrant shade of red that matched her hair. "I think you need to show them some love, don't you?"
Without waiting for a response, she placed her foot in my face, the sole mere inches from my mouth. I could feel the heat of her skin and smell the faint scent of her foot lotion, a scent that was uniquely hers. She began to stroke my cock with her other foot, her toes lightly caressing my shaft. Each touch sent a new shiver of pleasure through my body, a stark reminder that she was in control of my every sensation.
Jenny's foot was small and delicate, with the perfect balance of softness and firmness. Her toes curled slightly as she slid her foot over me, teasing and taunting with every stroke. The sensation was unlike anything I'd experienced before, and the knowledge that she knew of my secret fetish only added to the thrill.
"Lick them," she instructed, her voice a command that I could not refuse. "I know you want to."
The tip of my tongue darted out, tentatively touching the soft skin of her foot. It was warm and smooth, and she let out a satisfied sigh as I began to trace the contours of her sole with the flat of my tongue. Her toes curled and uncurled as I licked and kissed my way along the arch, her movements growing more insistent as I reached the tips.
"That's it," she cooed, her voice a sweet symphony of pleasure. "Just like that."
Her foot slid along my cock, the softness of her sole contrasting with the firmness of her toes. Each stroke was a masterpiece, a tease that had me on the brink of insanity. I could feel the precum leaking out, a testament to how much her dominance over me had turned me on. Jenny noticed and chuckled, a sound that was music to my ears.
"You're such a good boy, George," she said, her voice a mix of amusement and satisfaction. "But remember, I'm the one in charge here." She lifted her other leg, placing her foot on my shoulder for balance. "Now, lick," she ordered, and I obeyed, my tongue tracing the curve of her sole, the taste of her skin like a drug I couldn't get enough of.
Her foot on my shoulder was firm but gentle, guiding me as I worshiped her other foot. Each stroke of her toes now and then against my cock brought me closer to the edge, the anticipation building like a crescendo in a symphony. I could feel the muscles in my thighs tensing, the pressure building in my balls. It was exquisite torture, and I didn't know how much longer I could take it.
"You're doing so well, George," Jenny murmured, her voice a sweet symphony of approval, her other foot now firmly stroking my cock. "But remember, if you come, I'll expect you to clean up after yourself."
Her words sent a shiver of excitement down my spine, and I couldn't help but nod my understanding. The thought of being so intimately connected to her, of being allowed to indulge in my deepest, most private desires, was intoxicating. My tongue danced along her sole, tracing the delicate lines that crisscrossed her foot, each one telling a story of the long hours she spent in those sensible nurse's shoes.
As I licked and kissed, Jenny's other foot never ceased its rhythmic dance along my shaft. Her toes curled and uncurled in a mesmerizing pattern, the pressure building with every stroke. I could feel the heat rising within me, the tension coiling tighter and tighter like a spring about to snap. The sound of her voice, the smell of her sex, the taste of her skin—it was all too much to handle, and I knew I was close to the edge.
With a final, desperate lick of her foot, the dam burst. My body convulsed, and I came with a groan that was muffled by the flesh of her sole. The warmth of my release spurted out, a silent declaration of submission to her whims. Jenny's eyes gleamed with power, watching me intently as I struggled to maintain control.
"Well done, Mr. George," she praised, her voice a sultry whisper that seemed to fill the room. "Now, lick them clean for me, won't you?"
Her words were a command, and I obeyed without hesitation. My tongue slid along her foot, tracing the path my cum had taken. It was a strange mix of flavors—the saltiness of my release and the sweetness of her skin. Each swipe of my tongue brought a new sensation, a new connection between us that was as intimate as it was unexpected.
As I licked her foot clean, Jenny watched me with an expression that was a curious blend of amusement and hunger. She enjoyed the power she held over me, the way my body responded to her every whim. Her hand rested on my shoulder, her grip firm but not unkind, guiding me as I worked. It was clear she had done this before, knew exactly how to make a man crave her touch, her smell, her voice.
