The Insatiable Neighbor Pt 01

She can not get enough

With every piece of furniture that we heaved out of the van, with every box and every bag that we lugged into my new home, with every drop of sweat, my anger at Klara grew. I had actually thought that I had already gotten over it, but when I stood in front of the chaos, in front of this demolition of my life, thrown together and without any order, it all came up again.

I would have loved to have doused all the junk with gasoline and set it on fire and then jumped into the conflagration with a big hello to escape this disaster. Actually it was only Charly, my friend from youth days and constant companion by all my valleys of tears to owe that I did not convert the idea and yes, the circumstance that no gasoline was in the house.

Karla had been my great love. I had courted her for years, had watched her give her favors to others on a daily basis, and had not given up. We were colleagues, both accountants in a large corporate headquarters, working table to table, and only when she had more or less gone through all those who roughly fit in age and wore pants, did she take pity on me.

It was a freezing cold winter day when she was desperately trying to start her sleek red Golf after work and I was just pulling into the parking lot.

"What's the matter, won't it start?"

"No, see!"

"Well, leave it then, I'll take you home. Tomorrow morning you can call ADAC and have them look at it. Turn everything off and come!"

She looked at me doubtfully for a moment, but then I apparently seemed like the least of her evils, and she swung her black stockinged, toned, and plump calves out the door.

My old Peugeot greeted us with a cheerful hum and I chauffeured her to her front door.

The divorce from her first husband had given her a nice home of her own. That was about five years ago. The marriage hadn't lasted long and the company rumor was that she had pretty much ripped him off, a well-to-do pediatrician. Although she had cheated on him, her lawyer, with the help of a sympathetic judge, turned the whole thing around so that her husband had to move out and she got the house, along with a substantial, one-time settlement. They had pleaded emotional cruelty and withdrawal of love on his part and made it look as if she had no choice but to seek emotional and sexual support elsewhere.

When we stopped in front of the neat little house, she looked at me from the side and something flashed briefly in her dark brown eyes that looked something like pity, perhaps coupled with curiosity. Anyway, she asked, "Would you like to come in for another cup of tea? If you want, I have some Bolognese in the fridge, I'll cook us some pasta?"

Of course I didn't say no and followed her into the house with a feeling of joyful excitement.

She led me into a comfortable eat-in kitchen and asked, "Maybe you'd prefer beer?" to which I happily replied in the affirmative. She placed the bottle and glass in front of me, retrieved a pot from the ice chest and placed it on the stove. Then she handed me a wooden cooking spoon, "There, stir every few minutes so nothing burns, I'll just put on something comfortable quickly."

I watched her as she left the kitchen with swaying hips, looked with pleasure at the thick buttocks that stretched under the fabric of the knee-length skirt and thought about how this magnificent ass would probably look naked. She was blessed with feminine attributes in the first place. Also her tits were phenomenal, at least one could guess that under the always a little too tight sweaters, T-shirts or blouses and some who had already had the pleasure, also did not keep behind the mountain with their experiences. So the rumor circulated that she had enormously thick and long nipples and allegedly a clit that looked like a small cock.

With these lewd thoughts I got a hard-on and almost forgot to stir. Thank God she came back after a few minutes and saved the Bolognese, but not me from further, almost unbearably horny head cinema. She had forced her massive legs into black leggings and wore a top, sleeveless and skin-tight. But what knocked the bottom out of the barrel - there was no bra to be seen far and wide. Her bust rippled so seductively under the thin fabric with every step that I would have loved to fall over her.

"If you want to freshen up - second floor, second door on the left!"

"Yes, please" - I urgently needed a load of cold water and hurried upstairs. But the fact that there I was immersed in the fragrant world of an exciting woman who hadn't found it necessary to put away her underwear, which had been hung up to dry, had me spinning right back into high gear. You didn't have to be a fetishist to get horny at the sight of tiny panties and voluminous lace bras. No idea if she did that on purpose or just forgot about it, but in any case I couldn't cool down at the sight. Also not in view of the many vials, tubes and jars and the almost transparent negligee that hung on the door.

Quickly I washed my hands and made that I came back before I put in another one of those horny thongs.

But there was no end to the agony. When I entered, she was standing by the stove, turned her back to me and I could take my time to look at that magnificent ass that almost burst the leggings at the hips.

I don't know what it was, but in any case I took heart, stepped behind her and placed my hands gently on her wide, fleshy hips. As I did so, I leaned forward and whispered in her ear, "And what if we let the spaghetti wait a little longer?"

She pulled her head back until her cheek rubbed against mine, "What would you suggest instead?"

I sighed, "The thing I've wanted for years, only you don't seem to have noticed!"

"And what is that?"

I now let one hand slide over her butt, caressing the massive cheeks while I felt my way up to the tits with the other, "I want to make love to you, I want to be with you at all Karla, always!"

She escaped me, turned around and said with a smile, "Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"Well, you were always out with others!"

"Oh that - I always have an open ear for real men. Come on," she took me by the hand, "come with me!"

Fucking her was a dream - her body was pure temptation. Despite her forty years, everything was still super in shot. Sure, the tits had changed over time from balloons to bells, but with the large courts and really immensely long nipples they were a dream. Her ass was a delight and especially her fetish. She loved to be kissed, caressed and, yes, fucked there too. She was the first woman in my life that I was allowed to fuck in the ass and we celebrated this almost weekly for a few years. She always made a terrible fuss about pain and such, but that was part of the ritual, because as soon as I had penetrated her rosette, she went off like Schmidt's cat.

The rumors about her clit were also true. I had never seen a similar instrument - a good inch long and so sensitive that she came almost instantly when you sucked on it.

Karla was simply a sex bomb - she could come at any time of the day or night and she wanted to. It was wonderful and we had a perfect time. Actually six years, three months and nine days, because then George came into our lives. In other words, he became a new employee, was 10 years younger than us and with his arrival she went completely crazy. She adored him, she romanced him, completely unabashedly in front of my eyes, and it wasn't two months before I caught her in the coffee kitchen. She had laid over the countertop and he fucked her from behind, let the thighs bang against her ass and laughed stupidly when I tore open the door. That passed him by pretty quickly, though, because 10 seconds later he was lying on the floor with a black eye and a raised, wet cock that was glistening with Karla's pussy juice.

Yes, and that was my undoing. They both testified against me, accused me of the worst brutalities and finally forced me to make a deal. Divorce, no claim to the jointly acquired property and goodbye. If I hadn't agreed to that, I probably would have had a criminal record for assault. I couldn't afford that, I needed a new job, because I didn't want to work together with this cock-hungry bitch anymore.

Therefore, Charly and I sweated our souls out of the body, on this hot July day and then sat exhausted on the stairs of the already somewhat worn semi-detached house. The purchase had gone over so quickly that I didn't even know who lived in the other half. I had only been there once, met with the owner, looked at everything, found it acceptable and bought it. He was in a hurry to sell, he wanted to emigrate and urgently needed the money. That's why he was willing to negotiate and I managed to put up enough money so that we could do the deal.

The entrances were next to each other, there was a parking space in front of each one and the garden behind the house was divided by a low living fence. There was an ugly screen of yellow corrugated Plexiglas on the shared porch, and I planned to talk to the neighbors about solving that somehow differently at the first opportunity. At the moment, however, I was just exhausted and had an overwhelming desire for a beer.

Just as I was about to suggest to Charly that we go shopping, the door next to us opened and a woman appeared, holding a tray.

On it were two cans of beer, two glasses, and a giant plate of piled-up sandwiches.

"Hello, you two, I'm Herta, your neighbor. I thought a refreshment would be good for you".

I jumped up, "Oh, that's nice. Hello, Gerhard my name, Gerhard Pertl, I'm moving in here!"

She bent down, placed the tray next to Charly on the landing and held out her hand to me. Slender fingers encircled mine, painted dark blue, long, tapered nails, a butterfly tattooed on the back of her hand.

We smiled at each other and I saw a joyful glow in her green eyes that perfectly matched the long, flowing red curls that fell far over her shoulders. She might be around forty, was tall and willowy, flat chested, with a narrow waist but nice round hips. You couldn't say she was pretty. For that, her nose would have had to be shorter, her mouth less wide and her bust a bit more pronounced, but she did not seem unattractive and very likeable. Quite naturally, she sat down with us after I had introduced Charly to her.

"And when is the rest of the team coming?" she asked bluntly.

I shook my head: "There's no rest. I'm alone, a divorce victim, so to speak!"

She laughed, "Well, that makes two of us. I live alone too, kicked my husband out, he drank and gambled. The old song, unemployed and feeling sorry for himself, well, that's how life plays out. I've been alone for five years and honestly, I enjoy it! So don't worry, every pot finds its lid. I'm sure she's waiting for you somewhere too!"

With that, she stood up, "Well then, if you need anything, just ring the bell," and after a pause, "You can ring the bell if you don't need anything, just like that! But we'll see each other in the garden anyway, I'm a sun worshipper!"

Charly wiggled his narrow head, which looked so delicate on the thin neck that one was always afraid that he would fall to the ground at any moment: "My dear swan, you have to be careful!"

I looked at him from the side, "What do you mean?"

"Well, praying mantis do eat their males after they're done screwing!"

Laughing, I patted him on the shoulder, "Hey, I don't think she's alone. You heard what she said, every pot and all that. I'm sure she's got plenty of lids!"

"Yeah, I think so too, she's hot as a rat!"

"Oh come on, she's very nice. Come on, drink up, we still have a few boxes left!"

I put the tray in my messy kitchen and then followed Charly to the car.

*******

Two hours later he was gone, I sat on a vacated chair, gnawed on the last of my sandwiches, which had already dried out, and looked with a touch of despair at the mountain of boxes, the haphazardly standing furniture, and the hopeless mess. I would have liked to scream, but since one doesn't do that at thirty-eight years of age and as a civilized Central European, I grabbed the empty tray, washed it off in a makeshift manner, dried it with a tablecloth that lay on top in a laundry box, and rang my neighbor's front doorbell.

When nothing moved, I remembered that she had said yes, she wanted to go into the garden. The sun was already setting, but I tried my luck and stepped out onto the porch. Sure enough, covered with a large bath towel, she was lying on a lounger she had placed in the middle of the small lawn in search of the last rays of sunshine, reading a book.

"Hello, I'm returning the tray!"

"Oh, it could have waited. Wait a minute!"

She rose, gathered the shawl at the front of her chest, wrapped it tightly around her body, knotted it, and came to the hedge. Obviously she wasn't wearing a top - so I guess it really was true about the sun worshipper. That could become cheerful, if the good Herta lounged there naked in our garden. I was finally quite starved, had not had sex for months and was slowly ready for new adventures. In the time before and immediately after the divorce with the image of fucking Karla before my eyes, I had lost my appetite. But that had been over for a few weeks now and my spirits were slowly beginning to stir again. The only concession she had made to me - I was allowed to stay in the house until I found something new. She moved in with the unspeakable Georg during this time. I was moving as fast as I could anyway, but it had taken me two months to find the house. With work it was more difficult, there I had nothing yet.

I handed Herta the tray and she said, "If you're hungry, I've got goulash on the stove, you're welcome to come!"

"Thank you, but I don't want to intrude, surely you're expecting...?"

Shaking her head, she reassured me, "Nah, I'm solo at the moment, my last life stage partner decided that four months of life stage was enough!" She smiled a little painfully and I commented, "Well, if I don't eat anyone's goulash, I'll gladly accept. I'll just wash my hands."

"Take your time, I still have to get dressed. I hope you don't mind, but I like to bathe topless in the sun.

I stupidly couldn't help blushing, "No, of course not, in the...!", "On the contrary" I wanted to say, stifling myself, but she had understood anyway and laughed, "Don't get your hopes up too high, there's not much to see. I guess I forgot to yell 'here' at the titty distribution!"

Liberated, I laughed out, glad she was so easy-going. "Alright then, I'll take a quick shower, say in half an hour?"

She nodded, turned and walked away, still saying, "Fine, I'm glad and don't worry, I have plenty of beer in the basement!"

"Okay, but next time it's my turn!"

"Which you can count on!" - she said this with a friendly threatening undertone, but the true meaning of this statement remained hidden from me.

I rang the bell on time, freshly washed and even dried. A miracle that I had actually found the box with the towels. She opened me with a beaming smile: "Come in, just finished".

She went ahead into the kitchen - everything identical in construction to mine - and I took the opportunity to inspect Herta's back view. The butt was quite rakish, you could easily tell in the short shorts. The legs were a little thin for my taste, very sinewy and muscular, looking almost like those of a long-distance runner. The baggy shirt gave no glimpses, except for the beginning of a tattoo just below the hairline, though I had no idea what the depiction was. It looked strange, in any case, and also only visible because she had her hair up. Different was the one on the left upper arm - that was a large, colorfully engraved ornament, somewhat reminiscent of Germanic runes. Beautiful was the slender, long neck, which seemed somehow sexy, probably due to the fair skin and the many freckles, which, by the way, also covered her cleavage. I could hardly take my eyes off of that as she sat across from me and let me see her really tiny tits every time she leaned over. Normally, this was not my thing at all, but I probably already had a state of emergency and maybe it was also her casual way. Anyway, it made me horny to see those tiny bells dangling in front of her chest. Yes, they seemed quite soft, looking more like two half-full pouches, but had horny, upward-pointing nipples that were probably a bit erect from the friction on the fabric.

She pretended not to notice how I stared into her cleavage and I then also pulled myself together and tried to find a topic of conversation. Then I remembered the porch partition, "Tell me, Herta, do you attach great importance to that yellow wall out there, between us?"

She grinned, "No, of course not, that was an idea of your previous owner, that square!"

I looked at her questioningly and she continued with a mischievous smile, "Oh, he caught me one evening, also in the summer, with a man on the porch, doing..., well, you know...., doing...., well, we were doing it and I thought Gunnar was already asleep. But he came out again and saw us. He went right back in, but I spotted him out of the corner of my eye. What should I have done, it was already done anyway and well, it was just nice, so I went on.

The next day when I got home from work, there it was. We never talked about it, but I accepted it, even though I had never done it on the porch since. Funny, isn't it!"

I had to take a quick swig of beer, because my mouth was kind of parched at her recounting.

"Yeah really! So for my sake, we can put that thing away. You can tell me if you ever don't want to be disturbed, on the patio."

"Well, we'll drink to that, and of course it's mutual!"

I waved off, "Oh, there's nothing in sight with me. I must first see that I find work, everything else comes later!"

She looked at me thoughtfully, smiled almost seductively and started to say something, but swallowed it down and when I looked at her encouragingly, she just said, "Sure, you have to do as you think."

I finished the beer and put the glass down, "Thanks for the invite, I'm going back to my chose now, I at least have to get the bed ready!"

There was that look again and I kind of felt like she was going to say, "Feel free to use mine!" but then I pushed the thought away, scolded myself a fool for even thinking such a thing and got up.

"Well then, good night!"

"If you want, I'll help you unpack and put things away tomorrow, I'm off for the week. Let me know when to come and I'll bring breakfast!"

"No," I raised my hands defensively, "I can't accept that. How do you come to do that?"

"Oh fiddle-dee-dee, what are neighbors for? That's all right. So, when?"

"Alright, if you insist, at nine, maybe?" When she nodded, I continued, "And thank you, that's sweet. It's certainly pleasant to me to have a female hand helping out. I'm not one for keeping clothes - and kitchen cupboards - in order!"

"Haha, that's really not a man's thing. You know, because I'm not one of those feminists, I'm a little old fashioned. Women just have different talents than men, but I'm not just talking about the kitchen and the household!"

"But?" - her mischievous smile teased me with this question.

"I'll explain that some other time, go on, get out!"

*******

Unsurprisingly, I was assailed at night by wild dreams in which Herta starred, rolling naked in the garden in front of me, legs spread. She flaunted an oversized cunt, dared me to impale her, laughed derisively when she saw my stiff cock, and rammed a huge black dildo into her pussy before my eyes, at least ten inches thick and half a meter long.

"Come again if you can keep up," she bawled vulgarly, fucking herself with the monstrosity until she came, screaming loudly and with a fountain of pussy milk spilling out of her cunt, turning everything around her into a glistening pool.