Saturday.

Tommy entered the laundry room carrying a basket of clean clothes. They were the clothes he cleaned yesterday and left in the basket for this moment. The room was empty of people, with one running dryer. He closed the laundry room door and then locked it.

Sixteen minutes. That was the time left on the dryer. Tommy quickly opened the dryer and sorted through the contents. Tommy checked a pair of panties, then another, and another. None of them had tags telling him the size. He changed tactics. He found a skirt with a tag inside to give him the waist size. If none of the bras had a tag telling him the size, he would have to steal one of them. He needed to know Miss B.’s size.

...

Sunday morning.

Tommy wore nothing but a bathrobe, clean and fresh from having showered. He knocked on the door of the apartment across the hall from him.

“Good morning, Miss B., Wow, you look lovely.” She was about twice his age, a spinster. She was not what many would call a beautiful woman, for some reason, he was extremely attracted to her.

“Thank you, Tommy.”

“I was planning to make some pancakes, but unfortunately, my mixing bowl cracked. You wouldn’t have one I could borrow, would you?”

“Sure, let me go get it for you.”

As she disappeared into the kitchen, he called out to her, “You’re welcome to join me if you’ve not eaten yet.” He adjusted the belt of his robe. He had been practicing this maneuver for days.

“I had some toast already, thank you. Here.”

Tommy reached for the bowl and took it in both hands. As he did so, his robe opened up, exposing his manhood.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said as if it was an accident. He made no effort to fix the robe. He stood there staring at Ms. B’s nicely painted toes, the bowl occupying both hands.

“Let me help you, Tommy.” Ms. B said. She blushed slightly, smirked, and took in an eyeful before she closed his robe for him and pulled the belt snugly. “You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of there, Tommy.”

It felt wonderful to have her tighten the robe as if it was her hugging him. “I apologize that happened, Ms. B.; I’ll return your bowl this afternoon. I promise to be fully clothed.”

Tommy did not make pancakes. He never really planned to. He only would have if Miss B. had agreed to have breakfast with him. The bowl was an excuse to see her. He had his own perfectly good mixing bowl he could have used.

...

That afternoon.

He took the bowl back but also gave her a gift. “A beautiful woman like you deserves many gifts, with Valentine's Day coming up,” he said.

“It is sweet of you,” she said. It looked like a box of chocolate. The young man either had a boyish crush on her or was a flirt who flattered all women like this. She did enjoy the attention and compliments he always gave her.

After supper, she opened the gift, planning to have a few chocolates for dessert. It wasn’t chocolates. It was a book, a romance novel. It proved to be full of many erotic scenes, which she devoured in 48 hours. She even had to masturbate several times after getting quite aroused. Reading the book and seeing Tommy exposed awoke something in her and made her think.

...

A week later.

Tommy was getting ready for bed when Miss B. knocked on his door. She was in a see-through negligee and holding the book.

“I’ve come to read you a bedtime story,” she said, showing him the book. Miss B. tucked him into bed, read about twenty pages to him, and then gave him a goodnight kiss. She then snuck across the hall to her apartment.

This became their routine; every night, Miss B. read a bit of the erotica to him. He would often be visibly aroused under the covers, but neither of them acted on it. Miss B., too, became extremely aroused reading the book, having Tommy watch her near-naked body hungrily. It was a titillating arrangement, and neither wanted to risk ruining it. They both needed to masturbate the moment they were alone, fantasizing about the other.

When the book's final words were read, Miss B. kissed him goodnight, not knowing if it was over. That is when Tommy gave her another present. It looked like another book. She smiled, glad they would continue, and gave him another kiss before she left.

A note on the gift said, 'Hope this makes you feel as sexy and beautiful as you are to me.'

It was not another story, but a matching set of panties and a bra. Lavender in color. They were very lacy and did make her feel sexy when she tried them on. The lace seductively covered and exposed her most intimate assets.

The next night, she put on the bra and panties. She didn’t know if she would read to Tommy. Make love to him, or he would fuck her brains out. She was willing and ready for any or all. She was wet with desire as she modeled the gift for Tommy.

“Would you sit on the bed and let me brush your hair?” Tommy asked, feeling a bit silly making the request. As she did so, and he gently brushed her light brown hair, he asked her to tell him another story, “A true story about her.”

Miss B. thought for a moment and then began.

“My first roommate and I, in college, would brush each other's hair. Neither of us was pretty or popular with boys. One night, Brenda asked if she could kiss me. We had been talking about boys, dreaming about them. She said she wanted to practice kissing so we could be phenomenal kissers for those future boyfriends. I was hesitant but eventually thought, why not? The first kiss was very nice, and we slowly kissed more, becoming impassioned.”

Miss B. stood up, removed the bra and panties, and lay nude in the bed.

“Brenda then took the hairbrush and began to brush my pussy, and I became very aroused by this intimate petting.”

She gestured for Tommy to do as Brenda had done. He was only too eager to oblige. With each gentle touch, Miss B. gasped softly, her body responding eagerly to the sensations, encouraging Tommy to continue. Her pussy was natural, amply hairy, and was perfect for a thorough brushing.

“Then she entered me with the hairbrush handle and began to make love to me with her kisses and the hairbrush.” She grabbed Tommy’s erection and gave it a few tugs. “You don’t have to use the hairbrush. Let's make new erotic stories together."

With his cock in her hand, Tommy lost his load, ejaculating in her hand and all over her soft belly. The anticipation, the bedtime stories, had built his arousal to a threshold he could not hold back from any longer. “I’m sorry, Miss B., let me get something to clean you off.”

After toweling her off, the vision of her naked and displayed on the bed had him sporting fresh wood. Her inviting soft body welcomed him on top of her and inside her. Tommy enjoyed the gush of warmth he felt on his cock as it entered into her.

Miss B. bit her lip, holding back the flood of pleasure she was experiencing. Her fingers dug into Tommy, clawing his shoulders, back, and ass. His hot breath on her neck weakened her self-control, sending her hips into auto-fuck mode. Her pussy yielded to Tommy's rigid shaft until she shook out an orgasm with an, "Ahh ah ah ahh, don't stop." Wanting him to keep fucking her to yet another wave of ecstasy.

Tommy drank in Miss B.'s pleasure like an aphrodisiac; it fueled and made him hornier for her bodily pleasures. He became a man possessed and obsessed with taking her to that next orgasm. He could not and would not quit until she trembled uncontrollably and gripped him tightly, holding onto him as if her life depended on it. Then, and only then, would he surrender to his pleasure. Tommy's cock quivered and spewed as she did so.

"I think it might be okay for you to switch from calling me Miss B. and start calling me by my first name."

"Ok, Bea, if that's what you want," answered Tommy.