edited by Tristan Da Cunha
I've just signed the papers on my new house! I loathed the idea of leaving my beloved Seattle for California, but it was comforting that I'd be sharing the same city with you. You don't know of my relocation--I didn't want to let on until the papers were signed and the job offer was solidified.
Being an architect, you would adore the layout of my new home. It's bright and warm, with high ceilings and plenty of wood throughout. My main requirement: lots of windows, and there are LOTS of windows. I still have one reservation--not being able to meet the neighbors. In the past I've had some negative experiences with nosey neighbors, but the Realtor let me know they were a fairly private professional couple with no children.
When I'm finally all moved in, I decide to email you and let you in on the news. As I'm about to hit the send button, you pop online and Instant Message me with a "what's new?" Heh, what's new indeed! I tell you about my new job and how I had to relocate to a new city. "Guess where I live now," I say.
The curser blinks interminably as I wait for your response. "I'm in the Bay Area now," I blurt out, without waiting for a reply. I tell you how excited I am about my new life in a new place, even though I'll miss Seattle a lot. I let you know how nice it is to have a true friend like you in a city full of strangers.
In the midst of describing my new house, you cut me off. "What city?" you interject, as if you can't quite believe what you've seen. I repeat the name of the city--no answer. While I'm waiting for a response, I casually look out the window and catch a glimpse of my next door neighbor sitting at his computer wearing only a T-shirt and pajama pants. Though the rest of the room is in shadow, a well-toned body and thick hair is illuminated like a spotlight by the glare from his computer screen. He doesn't see me because my office is dimly lit and he is not facing the window.
I look down at the screen and see you've typed a question: "You know that is the same city I live in. We're in the same city now?" I reply that I wasn't aware that we were going to be in such close proximity to each other. Realizing how alarmed you must be, I reassure you that I will be respectful and mindful of your space, being that you are married. Besides, I know I will be more than occupied trying to learn the ropes at my new job and far too busy to meet you, though I imagine how it would play out if we did. Glancing back at my neighbor, I notice he appears visibly agitated.
I continue typing, trying to say anything that would quell your fears. I've lived in smaller towns and not bumped into any of my friends accidentally, even at the lone grocery store. So by this reasoning, living in a much larger city would certainly be less problematic. You finally calm back down enough to become your old playful self.
We begin to chat in our normal fashion, writer to muse, and things quickly heat up. You type salacious requests to me, and I begin pinching my nipples a little as I type back reciprocal fantasies. The sexual energy between us rises, and I can feel my clit begin to swell and throb beneath my cotton panties. I lean forward in my chair, squeezing my legs a little tighter to increase the sensation. It feels incredible!
I peek over at my neighbor, hoping he hasn't noticed my silhouette. Difficult to tell from this angle, but he looked like he was getting aroused by something on his computer screen. Straining my eyes to get a better look, I could swear that he was touching himself! I could tell he wasn't looking at any pornographic images, but appeared to be typing to someone, oblivious to my voyeuristic gaze.
While I try to pay attention to you, I'm finding it increasingly difficult to look away from my hot, muscular neighbor. What you are typing to me and the vision of my neighbor touching himself through his silky pajama pants is really beginning to make me wet. I'm glad all I have on over my panties is a flimsy little silk robe. I release the tie on my robe and pinch my nipples harder, rolling them between my thumb and forefinger, until they are completely standing at attention.
You type for me to hold on for a minute, you have to get up and lock the door. Oddly, the minute you typed that, my neighbor got up and walked over to do that very thing. This surely has to be some freak coincidence. I shrug it off and continue our sexual wordplay.
Often when we have these exchanges, you ask me to do certain things for you and vice versa. It's my turn. I love to trace my fingers, mouth and breasts all over a bare muscular chest, and with this in mind I ask you to take off your shirt. Again at the same time, my neighbor removes his shirt! I feel my pulse elevate but I'm not sure if it's from the thought of you, or my bare-chested neighbor.
I manage to gather my composure and then type my next request. A man stroking his cock for me gets me so wet, hot, and horny--it's nearly unbearable. I ask you to stroke it for me. You ask me to hold on for a moment while you get some lube. My neighbor abruptly rises and exits the room, then returns with a small tube.
OH MY GOD...YOU ARE MY NEIGHBOR!
