Girl Down the Hall

I barely knew anything about her. She had never even told me her name. Actually, she never said more than one sentence to me.

We both lived in a dump of an apartment building. It was a relatively small, two-story building, and only half the apartments were occupied.

The rent was surprisingly low. Probably the only reason the landlord was able to keep the place paid for was because he never actually fixed anything. It was sort of an unspoken agreement, which is to say that we verbally agreed to it, and then agreed to never speak of it, but it somehow seemed to work out for everyone involved.

The place was shit, and if you wanted something fixed, you took care of it yourself, including the blown lightbulbs in the hallways. The result was that people took better care of their apartments, to the extent to which one can take care of shit, so they would be less likely to have to pay to have something fixed. In return, the landlord stayed the hell out of everyone's business.

"Just don't bring the cops in," he'd said, undoubtedly more for the fact that his management practices where quite illegal.

One unexpected positive side-effected was that the only people who lived there were people who pretty much wanted to be left alone, which is not to say they were unfriendly. You just usually didn't see them.

The building was so shit that even the poorest junkies wanted better, and could afford it. It was a quiet, unexpectedly safe place to live, in spite of appearances.

I lived on the second floor, one door from the end. The girl lived in the end apartment that opened up to the length of the hallway, which seemed a bit ironic, given her nature. For anyone in the hallway, her door was the most easily seen, yet she was easily the shyest person in the building.

She topped off at about 5'. Her hair was a mix of dirty blonde and light blonde, and it hung almost completely straight down to her waist. She was thin. She didn't look malnourished, exactly. She just looked... frail, I suppose. She always wore a gray sweater... jacket thing with no buttons.

I don't know what the names for most women's clothes are. The sleeves were long enough that only her fingers showed. As best I could tell, she usually wore some kind of dress that went just past her knees. I think they were usually a small flower print. I was always too far away to tell for sure, but the mix gave most of her dresses a sort of yellow brown appearance. She was always barefoot, which I kinda liked.

She certainly wasn't my type, but she was unusually attractive for that type.

I don't know how old she was, but she seemed to live alone, so I figured she was an adult. She looked about 20 or so. I'd never seen her outside of her apartment, not entirely, anyway, and I've never seen anyone go into her apartment. She's either earning money online, or is wealthy and still chooses to live in this dump, for some reason. That's my best guess, anyway.

Many times, when I get back from work, I'll be unlocking my door, and I'll glance over to see that she'd poked her head out, but she'd always quickly withdraw and close the door at first eye contact.

Once, I caught her off guard. She didn't know I was there. She was exiting her apartment, but before she got all the way out, she looked up and saw me. She averted her eyes, nervously turned back and shut the door. It was kinda cute, but part of me worried about her just a little bit.

There was one occasion, however, where things went quite differently.

I had gotten back from the grocery store, with arms full of plastic bags. I clumsily unlocked the door and rushed in trying to avoid dropping everything. I hurried to the kitchen to set everything down, and I heard the door shut.

The floor was not level, but the door would swing open if you let go of it. It did not swing closed. I cautiously peeked around the corner, and that girl was standing in my apartment, about three feet from the door.

She was staring at me, visibly nervous. I froze a moment, confused. I didn't know if something was wrong and she's come in for help, or what. She didn't move or speak. She didn't look afraid, exactly. She didn't seem to be in danger.

"Um... Hello," I said in a quiet, careful tone. She did nothing.

Just as I started walking slowly toward her, she averted her eyes, turning her head slightly to her right. Her eyes darted randomly across my living room, clearly of no genuine interest to her.

About three feet from her, I paused when she suddenly drew in a breath and grew even more visibly nervous. She even momentarily closed her eyes, in some failing attempt to collect herself.

Her arms were stiff straight at her sides, and her fingers fidgeted. Her feet remained in place, however. She was rooted to that spot.

"Can I help you," I asked.

Her lips parted slightly, wanting to speak, but she had not yet found the courage.

I decided to move closer and maybe offer a comforting hand on her shoulder. As I moved, she sucked in another breath and closed her eyes for a few seconds. When she opened them, her eyes darted less franticly, but still looked just a little off to the side.

At about a foot away, her face dropped a bit. I lifted my hand to put it on her shoulder, but I froze it mid air when she inhaled more sharply, turned her head sideways, and shut her eyes.

I lowered my hand and waited. When she realized I was not going to do anything, she turned her head toward me, and stared, circumstantially, at my shirt.

Her eyes opened and closed almost randomly, in several small attempts to find the courage to speak.

Both her body and lips shook, so much that if I didn't know better, I might think she was freezing cold.

"I- I-," she attempted to speak. She took a breath and briefly closed her eyes.

"I wa- wan-," she managed in a quiet voice. Quite honestly, I couldn't tell if it was because of her nervousness or if she was simply a stutterer. I'd never heard her speak before.

She closed her eyes and lifted her head level, slightly off to the right.

"I wa- want you t- ... to do th- thi- ings to me."

That was pretty much the last thing I expected to come out of her mouth. I even replayed it in my head to make sure I didn't misunderstand it. I definitely had to verify that.

"You want me to do things to you?"

Her mouth moved, in an attempt to speak, but there was only erratic breathing, so she just barely nodded her head once instead.

Exactly what did she mean by that? Did she want me to hurt her in some way? I had no interest in hurting anyone, even if it was for their own idea of pleasure. Did she have some plan to frame me for abuse, or something? That seemed unlikely.

What things did she have in mind? I mean, she said that she wanted me to do things TO her; not WITH her. I'm guessing she didn't come here to play board games.

Did she mean sexual things? Admittedly, the idea did appeal to me, on some level, but it was still weird and... a little suspicious.

I decided to give a small test to the situation. I went to gently brush her hair over her left ear, and when my finger touched her temple, she gasped and practically spasmed for half a second, but did not move away.

Her head twitched left at my touch as I ran the tip of my middle finger down her cheek.

Her mouth opened as I touched the back of her jawbone. As I traced it forward, she lifted her head a little and tilted it left in a welcoming manner.

My finger reached her chin, and then went away from her, causing a small inhale in reaction to the unexpected, somewhat disappointing end.

Was she just desperate for human contact? Was she so alone and locked away, that she just stopped caring about... what? Acceptable behavior?

I started to feel a little pity for her. Why did she choose me, if that's what it was? Convenience? My door was closest to hers. Of all the tenants on that floor, I was probably in the hallway more often than anyone else.

All the times she peeked out to see me, was it that she was attracted to me, or simply that she was scoping me out?

She slowly lifted her shaking hands and held the front edges of her gray sweater for few seconds, before slowly peeling it off her shoulders. She moved with a surprising grace for someone trembling so much. Halfway down her arms, she released it and let it fall to the floor behind her.

She was baring her neck to me. It was narrow and pale and her jugular was distinct. For a moment, I was reminded of countless vampire movies, but I had no fangs for her. I lightly touched the vein, but could still very clearly feel how much her heart was pounding.

I ran my finger down her neck, and momentarily, her breathing increased through her mouth. Her chest heaved up and down, as if it could not decide if it wanted to offer me her modest bosom or keep it from me. I reached the exposed end of her collar bone, pausing just a moment before continuing over the material that covered the rest.

I was conflicted. I had no desire to take advantage of this girl, or anyone, for that matter, but she came here willingly. Taken at face value, her request was quite clear, and rather disturbingly short on restrictions.

It would be a lie to say that I haven't had at least a few fantasies about a woman letting me completely have my way with her, but I've never even entertained the thought of trying to make it happen. Dating and relationships were too much of a hassle, and I definitely wasn't paying money for it.

But here is this girl. This delicate, unglamorous, beautiful creature, both so afraid and courageous. I started to become aroused. My finger continued to her shoulder.

I wanted to simultaneously comfort her lovingly and bend her over the back of my sofa.

I leaned to look into her eyes, but she jerked her head slightly and closed them. Did she not want me to look into them... or did she not want to look into mine? I suppose it didn't matter too much. I was going to respect her wishes, either way.

I walked around her left side and stood behind her. I held her arms and placed an experimental kiss on her neck. A sudden intake of breath. Another kiss a bit lower. No reaction beyond what her body had been doing the entire time.

I kissed that exposed end of her collar bone, and I heard her swallow.

I released her arms and placed my hands on her sides. I could have just moved them around from there, but I did not want to pin her arms down. I wanted them free. I wanted to find out what she would do.

I slowly slid my hands around her ribs and up toward her breasts. As my hands approached the undersides, her breathing increased again, and her elbows moved outward.

Soon, I was holding her breasts in my hands, and it was like trying to keep hold of anything to keep from falling into a churning ocean. Her chest rose and fell so rapidly that I feared she might hyperventilate.

I squeezed her breasts, and she let slip a high moan that brought me to a full, raging erection. Oh, god. I closed my own eyes, slid my right hand down past her naval and pressed her against my very hard bulge. I rolled my hips and ground myself into the upper slope of her buttocks. I felt pre-cum releasing into my underwear.

For an instant, I think I felt her hand touch the back of my head, but it left too quickly to be sure.

I used my fingers to incrementally pull up the thin material of her short dress. Her breathing, that had returned to her current normal, was on a steady climb along with it.

There was another moan as my hand pressed against the bare flesh of her abdomen. My thumb search for her naval, brushing over it, feeling the slight dip.

I pushed further down and over her panties. She let out a whine that bordered on being a squeak.

On the curve inward, the material became moist, and then decidedly wet. I was surprised by just how wet they were. For a second, I wondered if she might have urinated, but the wetness was much more slippery.

A different mound in each hand: I massaged them both.

A different hard nub with each mound: I brushed my fingertips over both.

Moans and whines: she made both.

I could smell her thick scent even from that far away. It was a delicious smell, and I moved my fingers faster to encourage more.

Her legs kept feeling like they were trying to buckle, but she kept catching herself, perhaps helped by my holding her. Between her sounds, and scent, and her movement, I was lost in a trance of sensation that escalated to her convulsing in orgasm.

I kissed her neck and held her firmly to me, making sure she did not fall.

After she regained her footing, I brought my wet fingers up to her lips. Her head moved slightly side to side a few times, in mild resistance, but she quickly stopped, and after a pause, she hesitantly parted her lips to accept my fingers.

I spread her juices over her lips and tongue, but she did not close her mouth. She did not suck my fingers clean. She simply... allowed me.

I removed my fingers and positioned myself at her left side, moving my left hand to her right breast. My right hand lifted the back of her dress and squeezed a small, tight buttock. It had an astonishing fullness, in spite of her size and frame.

I slipped my fingers down the back of her panties, along and into her crevice. She shuddered as my middle finger found her surprisingly open anus. I expected it to be tighter than my pants, but I was able to slide my finger right in, and she moaned as I crossed the threshold.

After a few shallow pumps, I removed my finger and began pushing her panties down. I released her breast and lowered myself as well.

Back around behind her, and on my knees, I lifted the back of her dress to see her ass for myself. It was a thing of beauty. One might expect a girl of her frame to not have much of one, but those masses of flesh were so very satisfying to grip... and to spread apart.

I took a moment to push one of her feet aside, allowing me a better view and access to her gaping hole. She certainly must have prepped herself for this.

I closed my eyes and buried my face between those cheeks, taking a deep breath. She smelled clean.

My tongue shot into her and her whole body twitched. She moaned and whined almost continuously as my tongue explored every surface it could reach.

I moved my right hand to her pussy, finding it completely smooth and so extraordinarily wet that I had to stop and see it for myself.

A drop fell from her onto the carpet.

I turned around, sat down and eased myself backward between her legs, putting her pussy right in front of my mouth.

I ran my middle finger along her slit, coating it in her juice. With one hand around back of her, I pulled a buttcheek aside, and then inserted my wet finger deep into the awaiting hole.

She gasped and had to steady herself. I worked my finger in and out slowly, watching her pussy. I picked up speed, she began moaning, and there it was.

Another drop began to form on the lower edge of her slightly parted lips. She was a well-spring. I repositioned myself enough to take her into my mouth, and pounded her asshole with my finger.

She let out a series of long cries as my mouth and tongue moved vigorously on and inside of her. I was able to slowly, but literally, drink from her, and she tasted wonderfully sweet.

It may have been two minutes straight before I removed myself from her and cleaned up what remained. There was undoubtedly more to come, but I'd satisfied my thirst.

I scooted between her legs again and stood up behind her. I found the fine zipper at the top back of her dress, and then I slowly pulled it down, revealing bare back and shoulder blades as gravity parted the material.

I touched those precious shoulder blades as I gave careful consideration to whether I wanted to watch from behind or in front, as her dress fell to the floor.

Would it be the graceful sensuality of the spine, the lower back, the slope of the buttocks?

Would it be the primal appeal of the breasts and pussy?

I pushed the material as far off her shoulders as I could without the dress falling, taking care that her trembling did not disrobe her prematurely.

She had faced forward while I was behind her, but she turned her head to the right again as I walked around to her front.

She had stared me directly in the eye, when I first saw her here, but ever since I made that first move toward her, she has refused to look at me.

I wanted to try something. Something childish. Something mildly sadistic. Something that would be extremely satisfying, if it worked.

I snapped my fingers as loudly as I could. Startled, her body jerked. Her dress fell to the floor. I refrained from smiling, but it was, indeed, very satisfying.

And there were those beautiful breasts. Not large, but still full. Her light tan nipples were erect and very inviting. I wanted to feel them between my lips. I wanted to lick them. I wondered what sound she would make if I gently bit them. What if I bit them... less than gently?

I approached her, veering to her right. She inhaled suddenly and looked upward in her unexplained fear of eye contact, then rested her gaze on the opposite side.

I watched her mouth move open and closed with her breathing. Her lips never quite closing except when she swallowed nervously. I touched her lower back with my left hand, and her lips separated quickly for a moment.

I lightly traced up her spine, and her eyelids fluttered.

Palm flat against her back, I leaned over and kissed her right nipple. A sudden breath. It was hard against my lips.

I licked upward from the bottom. I circled the sides. I sucked it, and a portion of her breast, into my mouth, held it tightly, and then released.

I took the tip gently between my teeth. I tightened ever so little. Tightly enough to pull. I heard her inhale sharply. A little tighter. She breathed faster and deeper.

The hard bud felt quite substantial between my teeth. I resisted the urge to just start chewing it. A little tighter, and then she let out a tiny cry of pain. I immediately released.

I placed my right hand over her breast and just held it. I leaned in to her ear and said softly, almost apologetically, "I will not hurt you again."

I slid my hand down to her stomach, rubbed a few times, and then down further to her, once again, dripping pussy. How could she continue to be this wet? I dipped a finger inside, and she gasped. Plunging in repeatedly, her moans increased. Her legs became unsteady, once again.

No. Not while she's standing. I don't want to torture her. Or had I been doing that the whole time?

I pulled my finger out and used my hand on her back to guide her out of her fallen clothes, and to the back of my sofa. That hand then slid softly up to, and around, the back of her neck, clutching it lightly.

I paused, in case she needed a moment to figure out what I was about to do, but I had no interest in forcing her. I opened my grip on her neck, and gently pressed forward, slowly.

Her breathing increased, but she made no resistance. To my surprise, she didn't put her hands on the back of the sofa to support herself. She held them a little away from her body, arms bent slightly, and her fingers fidgeted a little, as if not knowing what to do.

I removed my hand, stood on her left side, and inserted my right middle finger once again, immediately pumping it in and out. She moaned . I inserted a second finger. She whined in pleasure.

Soon her hips were bobbing up and down. The way her knees bent, I was not sure if they would collapse beneath or not. Still, she made no effort to put her hands on anything. Only her feet and the sofa against her ribs held her up.

I moved my hand faster, and her high sounds increased in intensity. Something cross between a squeak and a scream was stifled as her body tensed and closed tightly around my fingers.