A very shy widow moves in next door and provokes Will's wicked curiosity
[This is only my second story here at Literotica. I have posted it in BDSM, but it could also have been posted in Fetish, Mature, or Romance. Obviously, it has a range of themes. Everyone in this story is well over 18.]
Chapter 1
It was just past midnight as Will lay in bed drifting off to sleep, that he heard noises from the apartment next door. The walls were not very well-insulated, and he had long since become used to hearing neighbors' loud conversations, TVs, music, and sexual behavior.
His apartment shared an airshaft with the apartment next door, as well as the apartments above both of them. Their bedroom windows, along with their bathroom and toilet windows all opened out onto the same shaft, receiving fresh air and sunlight. He knew that the apartment next door mirrored the layout of his, thus the night noises were coming from the neighboring bedroom.
The head of his bed butted against the shared wall and the room's dimensions were such that it was virtually certain that this was the setup next door as well. Will was always covertly pleased and aroused to hear the sounds of neighboring sexual mischief, and this was no exception.
It had started with a series of low groans underlying a sequence of loud swats or spanks, followed by louder and louder cries and squeals, until an outburst of expletives was crowned by a scream of ecstasy and a receding trail of whimpers and sighs.
"Whew!" Will thought to himself. "Someone is really going to town!" His own cock was rigid and dripping pre-cum and he knew he'd not get to sleep tonight without giving himself a good wank. "It must be that new neighbor next door. But how can that be?" He had met her briefly when she first moved-in the other day and he couldn't wrap his mind around the idea that a buttoned-up lady like that could be the source of the wanton sounds he had just heard.
* * *
Recently widowed Margaret Higgins was still getting used to her new apartment in the big city. It was so much smaller than the home she had shared with her dear late husband out in the suburbs, and she had met so few of her new neighbors in the compact apartment house she had moved into. It was very disorienting.
Margaret was, by nature, painfully shy and consequently retreated into a persona of almost rigid dignity and propriety. She dressed very properly in an old fashioned and formal manner, barricaded behind a plethora of undergarments: seamed stockings, garters, girdle, silk knickers, brassiere, slip, the works. Her bust and derriere were both quite generous, an attractive plus that was only amplified by all the layers piled on top of such fleshy gifts. Her face was still quite pretty with delicate features, marred only by her chronic 'deer in the headlights' expression.
And yet, beneath it all, Margaret was a slave to a whole raft of perverse cravings and desires. Her shyness and propriety were accomplices in her need for humiliation. Her dignity was a fragile screen masking her deep need for debasement. And the constant shame and guilt she felt over her helpless cravings pushed her relentlessly toward self-abuse and a hunger for punishment and pain.
She knew she was a "piece of work", but for years it hadn't mattered because her dear husband Paul had skillfully looked after her needs and "played her like a violin". He had both adored her and understood her desires -- even better than she had herself -- and had orchestrated little scenes of sublime mortification and embarrassment, followed by intricate stimulation and arousal, before her final submission to an ecstatic obliteration of her shame and guilt in a frenzy of orgasmic annihilation.
But Paul had prematurely died of a sudden heart attack, and Margaret was cast adrift, hardly destitute -- his investments and life insurance had seen to that -- but without his loving presence as guardian and anchor. In an effort to cut her expenses and stockpile her equity, she had sold their suburban home for a sizable sum, invested the proceeds in income property that avoided capital gains penalties, and found a more manageable home in her present apartment. She really shouldn't worry, but she was plagued with an anxious need to find a new emotional anchor who could also fulfill her relentless sexual needs.
Her thoughts turned to Will, the nice older man in the apartment next to hers. She had met him briefly while she was moving in and had been taken with his strong gaze and welcoming grin. True to form, she had been bashful to a fault, finding it hard to look him in the eyes, and squirming as he surveyed her carefully enwrapped body. She had felt that his gaze was penetrating beneath all her carefully placed layers and wondered if he might be the one. He had a devilish smile, and she couldn't keep herself from fantasizing him teasing out her need for humiliation and submission, and satisfying her shameful longings.
It was with such considerations in mind that she had gone to bed that night and surrendered to a much needed bout of masturbation. Without Paul, she was resigned to a pantomime of teasing and fulfillment, arousing in its way, but hardly a match for her husband's time-honored rituals of loving humiliation. She had certainly achieved a sublime climax, but the next morning had felt a bit glum.
It was with some surprise that she had heard a knock on her apartment door that afternoon and went to look through the little peep hole and saw Will standing outside. He smiled at her through the tiny lens and greeted her with warm eyes as she opened her door.
* * *
"Hello, Margaret, I guess it's up to me to be your welcoming committee for our apartment complex. Most residents here can't be bothered and live their own private lives, shut off from the rest of us. It's a shame, but that's life in the big city!" She couldn't resist letting him in, his gregarious manner was such a tonic for her shyness. She yearned for him to power past her hesitations and overwhelm her defenses.
"I'd like to invite you over for a nice afternoon tea. It's the least I can do. Are you willing? Yes? Then I'll expect you at four." Will quelled her worries with an enticing, yet somehow soothing smile, and set the stage for a mutual encounter of smoldering desire.
* * *
Unbeknownst to Margaret -- or to Will, for that matter -- Will was almost certainly the answer to her anxious needs. Now retired after a successful career in sales, he spent much of his spare time writing erotic stories for the popular online site Littersmutica. He had even forged friendships with a select few of the site's other authors and readers, a tiny circle of connoisseurs of the exotique and bizarre. They privately shared stories and intimacies with each other that were likely to challenge the limits of Littersmutica's sometimes quirky editorial policies.
Will was especially tuned into fantasies of dominance and submission, particularly those involving humiliation, embarrassment, and debasement. Exactly why this was so was not entirely clear to him. But his ongoing efforts toward self-knowledge and self-acceptance pushed him to forge ahead and capture his fantasies as honestly as possible. It was especially gratifying when these products of his imagination seemed to arouse or excite his prurient intimates. It was no doubt all quite perverse and depraved, but it was a comfort to an old man who still had the soul of a young buck.
In anticipation of Margaret's impending visit, Will printed out a copy of one of his most delicious stories. This would be a test of whether his instincts had been correct. Recalling once again her late night noises, he was confident that he would not fail. It was as if he was carefully tuning an old-fashioned shortwave transmitter to the exact frequency where she could receive his signal.
He tried to contain his excitement as he set about readying his apartment for Margaret's visit.
* * *
For her part, Margaret made a special effort to make sure she was nicely attired in her idiosyncratic style. All the usual extensive undergarments were in place, while a lovely sleeveless knee-length black dress peppered with white polka dots and a little black open-faced short-sleeved half-jacket made a valiant effort to cover her ample bosom. A quick glance in the mirror confirmed that her carefully coiffed auburn hair was in place, her makeup was neatly applied, and her dark red lipstick was flawless. If Will was going to undress her with his eyes, which seemed to be his way, she was determined to give him his money's worth.
At four o'clock, almost to the second, Margaret stood at Will's door and knocked timidly. Tap, tap, tap. She was as nervous as a girl before her first date. For the longest time, it seemed like there was no response, and she had her arm raised to knock again when the door suddenly opened and there was Will, with his warm smile and mischievous eyes.
"Margaret! So good to see you. Do come in and make yourself at home." He waved her in and locked the door in a gesture of privacy -- or was it entrapment?
"Well, just look at you!" He took in every inch of her, as he slowly looked her up and down and walked in a circle around her. "Lovely, just lovely. I have to say, my dear, that you have a sense of style that is too rarely seen these days."
He, himself, was dressed in a crisply starched white dress shirt and carefully ironed black slacks with matching spit-polished black shoes. Will smiled and gestured for her to come with him to the kitchen.
