Lady Show Off Next Door

I've always been hung up on the female posterior. As a young man I'd delight in those moments in department stores, subway stations, or anywhere that had an attractive woman ascending a staircase or escalator, when I could get a nice view of a good pair of buttocks encased in slacks, jeans, or better yet: a skirt.

I wasn't rude about it, mind you. Admiring is more the term I'd use, not drooling. Still, as I moved past the loss of my virginity and on toward acquiring girlfriends and then a wife, my biggest turn-on remained viewing the well-formed backsides of women. There's just something that takes my breath away when a lover turns to reveal her skirt or panties or slacks slipping down over her smooth, rounded cheeks. To me it's the perfect combination of artistic beauty and raw, steamy sex.

An Italian-American woman who lived across the hall from me when I had my first apartment comes to mind, for the great favors she did. Aside from taking pity on my poor dietary habits and inviting me over for a home cooked meal several times, this 30-something divorcee loved to have long conversations about cinema with me, once she learned that I was majoring in the subject at college.

I loved her smile and her friendly manners, her food and her classy chassis. Oh, and her earthy smell. She was more like a sexy aunt than a next-door neighbor.

How it came about that she became an unforgettable person to me is the night we were watching her little black-and-white Sony TV on the kitchen table. It was late on a weeknight, she was in her bathrobe, I had just gulped down about a quart of capellini with clam sauce and two or three glasses of chianti. We were discussing the movie that was being shown on the PBS station, the Italian film "Bitter Rice". Mostly, we were complaining about the poor dubbing.

Now, if you've ever seen this socio-political classic with a love story plot, you'll know that Silvana Mangano is a major reason for any ass man to take notice. She had maybe the best caboose ever seen in a 1950's movie house.

I made an allusion to that very fact while we watched, a remark that amused my neighbor (whom I'll call Sophia, for the purpose of this story) immensely.

"So, exactly how many women's rear ends have you admired, Stephen?", she grinned. "Being all of, what, 20 years old?"

"Seems like thousands", I boldly fired back, feeling the wine kicking in. We'd never talked about man-woman stuff, but I'd had so many talks with this worldly woman that by now I never worried that I might say something wrong. We were, as I say, on friendly terms.

"Thousands, you say. Marone, is sex all you boys ever think about?" The twinkle in her eye and mischievous smile made me blush and laugh sheepishly at the same time. I almost told her about sneaking peeks at her own frame more than a few times as she walked up the two flights of stairs in our building, but thought better of it.

"Everyone needs a hobby", I said.

We fell quiet for a few minutes and watched the movie. Sophia opened a second bottle of wine and gave us both some. Maybe I was imagining things, but it seemed like she stood more closely to me as she poured than she had earlier. I remember her neck looked a bit flushed as she bent.

At a particular point in the film Mangano's derriere was framed a little obviously by the cinematographer. The movie always has had its detractors for its exploitation element, but to me that's a plus. I gave out with a low whistle, which broke us both up, and from that point on we pretty much lost interest in trying to follow the flick, falling instead naturally into conversation while we finished up the salad.

The subject got around to our experience with lovers, Sophia describing how she was popular as a teenager and then her two marriages. Never one to be morose, she dismissed the divorces as inevitable, chalking them up to her own stubbornness in what she wanted from men.

"A man's gotta have a career, a feeling for some work that he wants to do for his life, don't you think?", she asked. "That was the problem with both of them -- they didn't know what they wanted. Restless men. We grew apart because I lost respect for their drifting. Ah, what am I complaining for, there'll be somebody for me yet. You think I have a chance?"

"Why not?", I replied truthfully. "You're a great talker and a great looker."

"Thanks", she said with a charming look of appreciation. "How about you? Marriage? Adventure? What kind of woman for you? I mean, when you graduate."

I filled Sophia in briefly about my short but somewhat satisfactory love life and my hopes, ending with my belief that I'd find the right girl and have a couple of kids and a house. "Nothing radical for me, I guess. Just a nice woman who can put up with me."

"But", she said slyly, "she's must have a shapely ass, right?"

"That, too", I agreed with a smile. "I guess it's just my weakness."

Sophia took a long sip of the wine and studied me thoughtfully for a moment. "One of my husbands was like you. All the time asking me to show off for him, like that."

I felt my mouth grow dry at the momentary mental picture she had thrust into my head. "Like....what?", I said dumbly.

She arched an eyebrow? "Like you enjoy, of course. What else could I mean."

"Oh". I just looked at her. She had a funny expression. I felt like I didn't need to speak anymore, or maybe I just couldn't. There in her small kitchen, in a third floor walk-up, I could sense one of the most aching erections I'd ever known forming in my briefs.

Sophia stood and started to automatically clear the table, but not in a hurried manner. She moved most of it to the sink, looking at me from time to time, still with that funny expression. She seemed to be considering something, tossing it around in her mind. The bad dubbing coming from the TV was the only conversation in the room.

When she would turn to the sink while clearing the table my eyes could not help but roam low, thinking about her showing off for that husband. From my years of making such mental judgments, I could tell Sophia had something to be proud of under that robe.

"No touching", was what she simply said at last, as she untied the robe and moved to shrug it off her shoulders and hang it on the door of her bedroom. The few steps she took doing so were graceful and quite erotic to my senses, the combination of my anticipation and her boldness hitting a high note for the evening. With barely a perceptible move she dropped her panties and left them on the floor.

Sophia moved back to the kitchen with the light from the hall ceiling framing her from behind and above. She looked beautiful to my eyes, in her cream-colored nightie. It fell to just above her knee. She was biting her lower lip as she turned away from me, standing about 4 feet from my chair.

Without too much flair she raised her nightie up over her hips. Like a jolt to my libido, her posterior was revealed to me like a gift. The twin globes were full but not plump, dimpled but not flabby. They sat at just the right point above the juncture of her thighs. Her spine hollowed just a bit at her waistline. The crease running between her soft but firm flesh was neither parted nor closed up tight. I don't know if I was breathing, but my cock could not have been harder.

"Is it still good?', she whispered in a kind of pathetic, needy tone, making me realize that she had no idea how perfect her ass would look to any man. I felt bad for her.

"I only wish I had a camera", I replied, or something like that. Whatever it was, the sincerity in my voice made Sophia visibly relax and smile over her shoulder at me. Without realizing it, I had turned my chair to face her and only now did I realize one hand was at the tight crotch of my blue jeans; it was the direction of her gaze that brought that to my attention. I reflexively pulled it away when I saw her watching, meeting her eyes sheepishly.

"It's okay, Stephen", she assured me when she saw my shame. I could hear the passion in her voice. "You don't mind me doing this, do you?"

"No, not at all." Mind? Was she kidding? Was this even happening?

"Should we go into the living room? You'll be more comfortable, I think."

I nodded stupidly and followed her into the relative brightness of the living room. But first I managed to have the presence of mind to turn off the TV. I could hear myself breathing.

Sophia motioned me to an easy chair as she turned a table lamp on. Her nightie had fallen back into place, but my eyes were burning through it, the image of her sexy bottom emblazoned in my mind. I perched on the edge of the couch, all nervous tics. My erection screamed for freedom.

"Oh, no", she admonished. "Sit back and be comfortable."

At this point of my life only one girlfriend had let me ogle her in this way, and that was just a few moments at a time, before she would get bored by my fascination and start up with more advanced foreplay. Now, here I was with a mature woman who wanted to show off for me, a skinny college geek who did little more than eat up her pasta a drink her wine.....and, she seemed to like that this was my kink.

I made a little mental prayer of thanks to that departed husband, the one who helped pave the way.

I did my best to get comfortable as Sophia turned and looked over her shoulder at me. "I'm sorry, but no touching", she reminded me, and I think she sounded regretful. Her slipper-clad feet were just in front of mine, she was so close.

This time she raised her nightie slowly, so that at first I saw only the warm skin of her parted thighs and just the beginning of her lower cheeks. She stopped there for several seconds, then raised the hem teasingly, bit by bit, until I could behold the crease between her buttocks, more open to my gaze than before.

Beneath it was the mound of her pussy, covered with hair. I could just make out the shape of her slit. As her nightie rose further up the full swell of her shapely rear end was there for my eyes, flanging prettily out before ranging in again to form her waist. Maybe I'm remembering it better than it was, but I honestly would stack her shape up to a woman ten years younger.

"Go ahead", Sophia said. At first I didn't know what she meant, but finally I tore my gaze away and looked up. She nodded in the direction of my bulging jeans. It dawned on me that she not only wouldn't mind my indulging in self-pleasure, she fully expected it. I lost no time in freeing my raging member and unceremoniously stroking it.

Sophia sighed in satisfaction and proceeded to bend slightly forward, while at the same time moving her legs further apart. This opened her up fully to my appreciative eyes, and I could already feel my balls tightening up against my body as her nether hole was revealed. A subtle yet unmistakable aroma of female arousal was wafted in my direction, as well.

Framed so closely like this, her ass and pussy were impossible not to desire. I wanted my face and lips all over her nether parts, licking her cunt and rear, hoping to hear her moan. It was all I could do to stay seated. Her luscious parts filled my world.

Bending further over and bringing herself closer to my face, Sophia had to crane her neck around her body just to watch me. "Oh, that looks good", she muttered almost absently as she observed my steady fisting. "That looks good", she repeated.

I could really smell her now, and could see the pink mouth of her sex with its moist smile. Above it her ass hole stretched open a bit as she held that unnatural position.

When Sophia reached back with one hand to pull herself open further I lost control and shot jet upon jet of cum from the swollen head of my cock, several landing on her lower leg, but mostly spattering onto the wood floor between my feet and all over my hand. It was a needful, reckless outpouring than left me speechless and soundless, save for my gasping breath.

Sophia made small sounds of pleasure at the sight. I was happy she hadn't flinched at my jism landing on her leg. She waited until I was finished before raising up and letting her nightie fall back into place. With a brief affectionate brush of her hand across my cheek she was gone toward the bathroom, leaving me dazed and slowly shrinking in my own hand.

But not for long. A towel was unceremoniously tossed into my lap. There was plenty to clean up, no doubt about that. While I busied myself with barely coordinated movements (post-orgasm, I have the reflexes of a sloth), Sophia brought our wine glasses out and assumed a perch across from me. She had a bemused expression as she watched my clean up the mess, my dick still hanging out of my undone jeans.

"Thank you", she told me. "That made me feel good. Like old times."

"No, thank you", I sighed. "No one's ever done that for me before. You're very sexy."

She gave me a light peck on the cheek as I left. Just a friendly one. I had a difficult time getting to sleep that night until I gave up counting sheep and masturbated myself to another orgasm, her exhibition alive again in my mind.

Off and on until she moved out I would spend time in her apartment, sometimes just for a meal or some wine but usually to watch her show off while I wanked. This went on even though I had two more lovers during that period. I could not get enough of her body and her attitude. We'd start off talking about one subject or another and before we knew it she'd be naked from the waist down.

On about the fourth visit she allowed me to cum on her tush, after I asked her for about the umpteenth time. I can still see the streams of my semen splattering her soft bottom and running into the crease. She held herself open until I finished, and even let me rub my cock head around a bit in the lewd pool I'd made before she dashed off to the shower.

After that, her inhibitions about my "touching" her gave gradually away to my depositing sperm directly onto her rosebud as she lay face forward over a chair arm, then to her allowing me to slap her soft ass with my hard-on repeatedly as I jerked myself off (an event that made her repeat "oh, oh, oh" softly), to my using her crease to actually bring myself off, my cum shooting up her back almost to her neck.

All the while she never had an orgasm as I could notice, nor did she use her fingers on herself (other than to insert one into her ass hole on occasion, to get me off), at least while I was there. But her arousal aroma was impossible to miss, and I never saw her cunt when it wasn't moist. I guess she waited until she was alone.

It was funny, but we never discussed what we were doing other than simple phrases like "That's nice" and such. She barely complained one morning when, fully dressed for school except for the hard penis extending from my open fly, I knocked on her door and unceremoniously urged her to bend over the kitchen table, lift her dress and let me spurt cum onto her pretty ass. Sophia was already dressed for work and had to struggle to get her pantyhose out of the way, but there was no complaint. I must have been thirty seconds in and out of her apartment that morning after drenching her skin most copiously.

The only time Sophia had an urgent tone to her voice was the night she abruptly flipped over, just when I was about to paste her gorgeous buttocks with more baby batter, and all but ordered me to "Do it over my face!" That was a first for me. Having seen it in adult films of the day I didn't hesitate for a moment to straddle her prone form and let fly as she suggested, my warm fluids streaming over her pretty cheeks and chin and gathering on her lips. I couldn't help but brush my cock head all over her afterward, with my balls resting on her chin.

I cleaned her up carefully that night and she let me do so without moving, which was unusual since Sophia would only let me fuss so much before attending to herself in the bathroom. Her expression was calm and peculiar as I sluiced up the thick whiteness from her skin. Kind of spooky, actually, that look. And there I had been worrying I was the kinky one.

I don't expect to meet another Sophia in my life. I'll always wonder what she got out of my using her like that, but I'll never disrespect her for letting me do so. I hope she found happiness again in her life. She continues to bring it to mine whenever I think back.