HOT HORNY STUDS (My Neighbors Nasty
Habits, Part 3)
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10:17 AM 7 March 2010
From: Client #5252
Dear Dagny,
You'll recall at our last session, I was puzzled as to what was going on with my new neighbors. Did they have my cottage bugged? Were they dangerous?
Should I relax and enjoy the variety they've brought to the neighborhood, or should I fear for my life?
Since we talked last, I've looked and can't find any hidden microphones or cameras. The skiers must have receivers in their vehicle that pick up reception from the speakers connected to my sound equipment.
Two years ago during a temporary detour, I could hear truck drivers talking on their CB's, as clearly as is if they were in the same room. This has to be a similar situation.
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12:00 Noon
I went up to the studio and checked, sure enough, the mixer was hot. It had been on for a long time, as was my microphone. It was where I had left it, on the floor near an open register, right in line with where the skiers parked.
I was relieved to have an answer, but found myself unwilling to flip off the switch.
Everything about this situation brings out the performer in me. Instead of putting a stop to it, I find myself wanting to put on a show for the boys. Is this simply a far-out fantasy or what?
The question is, would I even want to meet them? And if so, could I have a big wild orgasm knowing I had an audience? Would being watched cause me to be inhibited? I'm not sure.
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6:40 PM
7 March 2010
Well, Dagny I'm back. What a day! Guess what? While waiting in line at the grocery store I saw my neighbor's big black SUV pull into the pick-up area.
I knew it belonged to them, when I saw the "Live Free, Or Die" license plate and the ski rack on top of the roof. What was new, was a sign in the rear window that said:
HOT AND HORNY GUYS ARE WAITING FOR
YOU TO CALL RIGHT NOW! 1-900-HOT-STUD.
Standing in line with me at the check-out was a 'Church Lady' look a-like--straight out of Saturday Night Live. She turned to me and said,
"Those skiers, they come up here from down state to do nothing but pollute 'God's Country'. You'd think they'd leave their filth back in the big city where it belongs."
I smiled and reassured her that she was safe, that most likely it was a practical joke, a dare between ski instructors.
Once in the parking lot, I called the number. Sure enough it was a real number. When I heard the guys sexy voice, my legs went weak and the space between them ached. I quickly hung up, but I didn't want to.
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Once I returned to the cottage I sat down and tried to figure it all out.
Were these skiers part time sex phone operators or what? From what I'd seen of them in the driveway, they sure fit the description of "Hot and Horny Guys" but there was no way of knowing. Did they have a 900 number set up in the cottage next door or were they operating, if at all, from some distance city?
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When I was sure they weren't home,
I put together a big wicker food basket and placed it on their porch. Above it, I hung a pretty ribboned gift card on the front door with a note that said,
"Welcome to the neighborhood. Contact me if I can ever be of help. You can find me on line at Velvet 9 Erotic Fantasies. Leave a message for me with 'Babe'." I will get back to you a.s.a.p." (I hope you didn't mind me using your pen name. Figured this way was safer and you'd email me if any of them contacted you, looking for me.)
I look at it this way. Whether anything comes from it or not, my new neighbors are bound to feel properly welcomed. What's not to like about a gift basket filled with chocolates, bread, wine, cheese, playing cards, and venison sausage?
Even if they don't contact me, I will have at least saved face. Like, how they going to know for certain which of their bayside neighbors left it for them? And if they do find me? Well, It's not like I left rotten eggs at their door, it was a nice gift.
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4:30 AM
I reached under the bed and hauled out "Old Faithful" while I listened again to the hot 900 sales pitch. I never did actually put the phone call through, just kept re-dialing the number. I loved hearing guy after guy tell me he wanted me 'real bad'. As I listened, and massaged my clit, one mini-orgasm after another brought me closer to the really big one.
Legs spread far apart, vibrator buzzing, and phone to my ear, it was sweet to hear a man who understood the power of the spoken word.
You could say they are only doing it for the money, but if and when, I decide to pay for an extended call, that'd be okay with me. It would be a bargain compared to what I usually get for my money. Better yet, there'd be no emotional ties.
I finally turned "old faithful" on high and went at it imagining the last guy on the phone was telling me everything I
like to hear.
Soon I was moaning and groaning, not caring if anyone heard me or not, calling out to the entire world,
"Oh, how I love to fuck, I love to fuck, yes, yes, oh my god yes. Fuck, me, fuck me, never stop, keep it going Baby, keep it going!"
It didn't take long. I was more than ready. Soon, I exploded and was at peace.
Suddenly, I heard the familiar sound of my neighbor's car door sliding. Shortly thereafter my cell rang.
What in hell do I do now! Did he get my number from the 900 calls for Hot Studs? Was it my neighbor?
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To be continued: My Neighbor's Naughty Habits 4.
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