My name is Darren, and to put it nicely I'm pretty average. 5 foot 8 and 175 pounds, I keep my black hair cropped; not short but not long either. Most of my wardrobe is faded jeans and T-shirts for different rock bands with sneakers, because the factory where I work in the warehouse has a pretty casual dress code. I do date occasionally, but haven't had a steady girlfriend in more than a year.
After high school, I moved in to an apartment that was really just a spare room above a family's garage, but after a couple of years, I wanted the big city high rise apartment experience. So in the several months since I moved into the 16th floor apartment of this building, I've come to learn that there are certain unwritten rules of conduct, particularly when it comes to elevator etiquette: stand toward the back of the car so there's plenty of room for other passengers, don't hum or sing - especially if another passenger is on a phone call, and learn to clench your butt cheeks together when you're feeling gassy. And the really important rule: don't stare at the other passengers! No matter how young or old, thin or heavy, plain or grotesque, even ugly or sexy they are.
For example, that hot woman who always gets off the elevator at the 15th floor. She's really tall, around 6 foot 6 if I had to guess. And most of the time, she wears high heeled boots that make her almost 7 feet tall. She's got long deep red hair that is usually tied in a pony tail that almost reaches her luscious backside. Her figure is curvy, with wide hips and smooth muscular thighs that take my breath away, and her bustline is very generous. There have been plenty of times that we've ridden the elevator up or down, and I can feel my eyeballs straining to leap out of my head and into her cleavage.
I've never had the guts to utter even a single a word to her, partly because of the very obvious diamond wedding ring on her left hand, but mostly because I'm not clever enough to assemble an opening line worthy of this Amazon goddess. That's not to say I haven't heard others try to chat her up, usually with a weak ass hilarious question about basketball. Why do people assume that if someone is taller than average, they are supposed to play basketball? She usually gives them an angry and annoyed stare as they shrink back into a corner, or she'll offer to have them invite her husband to a game.
Most nights after work, I'll take the elevator to 16, wander down the hall to 1611, where I grab a brew from the fridge and figure out what I want to do for dinner. Boring... ordinary... predictable... And then there's last night, which was a mind blowing experience to the 99th degree.
I was a couple of sips into my beer when I heard a knock at my door. Confused, I walked to the door and put my eye to the peep hole. What I saw was.... cleavage! I couldn't see a face or body, but the cleavage looked pretty damned familiar. After opening the door, I was greeted by the mystery Amazon from the 15th floor. She wasn't smiling, in fact she looked pretty pissed off, so I was floored when she asked me if I wanted to fuck.
I invited her in and then asked "Could you repeat that?", after glancing both directions down the hallway to make sure I wasn't being punked.
"I asked if you want to fuck. Well do you or don't you?"
"Yeah I would love to, but aren't you married?"
"Technically, yeah, but that might not last much longer." That's when I noticed that she didn't have anything displayed on her ring finger.
"I don't want to be rude, but can I at least ask your name?"
She smiled a little. "Gillian"
"Hi Gillian, I'm Darren. What's the story? I'm not saying I don't want to fuck, I'm just kind of shocked."
"I just found my husband in bed with some blonde bimbo. I told him that from now on he could fuck anybody he wants to, and I threw my wedding ring at him. When I was walking out the door, I decided that I needed to get laid, and I knew you lived here because I accidentally got off the elevator on the wrong floor once. So when I thought that I needed to get laid, you were the first guy I thought of."
"Well, Gillian, I'm glad I was home tonight, cause I've always thought you were sexy as fuck."
"You're what? 21, 22 years old?"
"25 actually, but I'm also only 5'8, so that makes me seem younger."
"Shall we move to your bedroom? Go on and strip, I want to see what you've got to offer a real woman."
I stripped and turned to face Gillian, causing my seven inch semi-soft cock to bounce out of my briefs. She paused in the middle of sliding off her jacket. "Not bad for a little dude, and I've never seen an uncircumcised dick before. I'm going to like seeing what it looks like when it gets stiff. Hell, you're already much bigger than my hubby's teenie weinie."
Gillian quickly removed her blouse and bra, revealing the most gorgeous pair of tits I had ever seen in person or anywhere else. They were huge and sagged a bit because of their size, but I could only describe them as irresistible. Soft and spongy, they swayed and bounced as she moved. She stepped out of her skirt and panties, but left the boots and stockings on. That was fine by me, since the added height only emphasized her image as a sexy giantess.
She stood with her hands on her hips and ordered me onto my knees, then shifted her feet apart, drawing my eyes to her trimmed bush, and I discovered that her carpet did match her drapes after all. As I knelt, she took a few steps forward and stood over me. Her hands gripped both sides of my head and pulled my face into her crotch as I pulled the labia apart.
