The door to the apartment next to mine was open but no key had been inserted on the outside. Nor, at first glance, did the lock appear to have been tampered with. So it was probably just an oversight. I listened intently for a moment and raised my brows when I heard muffled sounds coming from further inside. A break-in, nevertheless? Looking around, I found the second floor of our apartment building to be deserted.
I set down my shopping bags and slowly leaned inward against the door to venture a look – to be greeted by an equally deserted wood-paneled floor, clothes lying all over the place, much like in my own place. The bedroom to my left did not harbor any unwelcome attacker, and neither did the empty kitchen to my right. Ahead of me, a nicely furnished living room opened onto a balcony with a palm tree that had not seen any water since the invention of the watering can.
Puzzled, I turned my head to the only room left in the apartment: the bathroom. Although at five-forty p.m. we were not that far into dusk, I could make out a beam of light from under the bathroom door. The muffled sounds originated from inside. Closer to their source, I could discern them for the soft moans they actually were.
Hesitantly yet curious, I approached the door. Lowering myself to my knees, I caught onto the doorframe just in time to prevent me from crashing down loudly onto the panels. When I glanced through the keyhole, my heart skipped a beat or two. There was my neighbor – a brunette and of 44 years old – sitting on the rim of her bathtub, legs spread-eagled, and a razor in hand. From her inner thighs up to her navel she was covered in shaving cream. That next moment, she lowered the razor towards her lower torso and started gently stroking herself, removing the first batch of hair covering the mound of her vagina. As the shaving continued, so did the soft groans, and her lips parted as if to say, "This feels sooo good."
That was the same notion I seemed to be having, as my cone pushed against my boxers' waistband from the inside of my jeans. Carefully avoiding making too much noise as I was opening my zipper, I released my manhood into the free. Or should I say boyhood? After all, I stated my age as 26 on most official papers, having a college education and then some, yet being still a little wet behind the ears with regards to nature's finest creation. So what to do next?
As I was putting these thoughts away, my 18-year older neighbor lathered up for her second go over. She was using an old-fashioned shaving brush and as the bristles tickled her skin, she giggled. When everything looked as white as if a snowgun had exploded onto her lower belly, she moved the blade to cut away the remaining stubbles of her pubic hair. As a blissful observer, I reached down and began to gently stroke my penis. Slowly but surely she had covered her every angle, and took a washcloth to wipe away the superfluous bits of shaving cream. Looking down at herself, she had a content smile on her face. Putting the shaving brush and the razor away on the edge of the sink, she turned around and hopped into the tub. At that, her beautifully orange-shaped breasts bopped up and down and I could hear myself heavily drawing in the air.
I looked down at myself. My penis now stood at full attention, hard and erect, with bits of precum sparkling up top as I slowly intensified my stroking. Here I was, kneeling in my neighbor's apartment, looking through the keyhole to the bathroom, just having witnessed this woman shaving her pussy in front of my eyes unknowingly.
While she was warming up the water, she knelt down to pick up something from the tub's floor: a can of shaving cream that had apparently fallen off the rim. Putting it aside, the curls of her hair fell down her shoulders, with its tips reaching just far enough to come to rest above her breasts. She grabbed a bubble bath bottle, releasing a good ounce into the water, with bubbles soon popping up everywhere in the tub. Then she lowered herself down, and, lying at full length, now only her face protruded from the foam. The next instant, her hands moved up and carefully cupped the boobs hidden under the layers of glistening foam. She seemed to be squeezing them and moving the fingers around her nipples, for little by little the foam slid away, exposing in full view what I only knew hidden under expensive and fashionable blouses.
Catherine was her name, if I remembered correctly. I did not know what she was doing for a living, but guessing by her style and demeanor when we occasionally met on our building's floor, I would say she was a lawyer. The law firm type, not the corporate one. Yet as far as I was able to discern, having lived door-to-door for almost six months, she was single, never having received much male or female visits during all the time she and I were sharing a common wall.
Totally unaware of my presence, this Catherine was now panting lightly as one of her hands still caressed the left of her so exquisitely shaped breasts, while the other hand found its way downwards to where her center of joy seemed to be begging for a little attention. As I was taking care of mine, so was she taking due care of hers. In unison, we seemed to be stroking, separated by all of a wooden door and a keyhole, when she turned aside to reach for something behind her.
It was the shaving cream bottle again. Was there something she felt she had missed shaving? She raised herself to stand up in the tub and as she was standing there, her pussy exposed point blank, there wasn't a spot left for further cutting. She scooted over to the seat of the toilet, not lifting the lid, and sat down on the edge. The can was still in her hand. It dawned on me. No, she wouldn't, would she?
She would. Spreading her legs, she ran her fingers along the rim of her labial lips, parting slowly what the hot water had turned into a purple red. Tearing off the cap of the can, she then applied a small heap of shaving cream onto the entrance to her vagina. Inserting first one finger, then a second, she pushed deeply inward, releasing gasp after pleasured gasp. The other hand sprayed even more shaving cream onto her mound to ease the stroking. With a wicked expression on her face, she pulled both fingers out again. By now, I was starting to feel a bit disoriented: My cock was throbbing and I was close to climax. She blew me the next instant as she lead the can of shaving cream to her pussy and slowly started pushing it inward.
As I knelt there in utter amazement, my cell phone rang.
* * *
In terror, I looked about. There was nowhere to run, with my pants down and jizz all over the place. The next moment the bathroom door flung open. Astonished as she almost fell over me, my neighbor looked down, a quizzical, then a wild expression on her face. Then she started screaming: "What the... what the hell are you doing in here? What the... the hell, what is this mess? Help!!!! Have you been watching me? Have you been spying on me? Have you... have you... talk to me, you little prick!" She became aware of her nudity all of a sudden and cupped her groin, to little effect. "No wait, I am going to call the police!"
I was at a loss for words, utterly speechless, as she was moving around me and sprinting to the telephone. "No, let me explain, let me explain it to you, please," I managed.
"You can explain yourself to the cops, young man. Asshole, more fittingly!" she gritted. – "Please, you have to understand, I was actually trying to help. I was coming home from shopping and..."
"Stop it! You shut up right now and..." The phone fell out of her hand, as she franctically tried to punch the right buttons. "Aw, crap, ..."
"Please, Miss... Miss Neighbor..."
"Mrs. Neighbor! I was married and am actually just waiting for the divorce papers any day now. Are all men just morons like you, and my ex? Little shithead!", she gasped.
"The door to your apartment was open, as I was coming back from shopping. I heard strange noises coming from inside and decided to check up, as I had thought it might be a break-in gone bad. My shopping bags are still outside, if you care to bother," I managed to scream in between.
She glanced at the still open door, where the two paper bags I had dropped earlier stood still in the wind on the sill.
"Easy, easy, young man. What are you saying? You didn't break-in yourself? You just came to check up on me, is that right? Well, the hell, it seems, yeah! The kind of checking up on people with your dick in your hand, watching other people in their bathrooms. How sick are you?"
"Mrs. Neighbor! I am not sick at all. Yes, I am sorry for taking advantage of a situation that presented itself as wholly other than I had anticipated when I did not encounter any armed robber forcing to rape you! Go ahead, call the police. If that's the thanks I get, then I just wish it had been a real robbery and I had not set foot in here!"
She blinked hard and put the phone down, kneeling down to pick up a t-shirt to hold in front of her to cover her nakedness. "Young fellow, you don't seem to be grasping the full seriousness of your circumstances. You entered private property uninvited, on grounds you will not be able to corroborate, then you peeked into the bathroom of one of the city's most notable lawyers, while I was..."
She seemed to be calming down a bit. "Oh, yes, while you were tenderly shaving your vagina, playing with your magnificent breasts, and inserting a shaving cream can up your pussy. I shall be glad to provide the full graphic details of your little afternoon adventure to the police officers on the case when I am interrogated."
She fell silent.
"Look, I really am sorry. I should never have stayed on after noting that everything seemed to be alright in here. If there were a way that I could make it up to you, I would but I guess you..."
