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I Helped My Hot New Neighbor Move His Boxes In
He thanked me with his thick, hot tongue.
His body glistened with sweat. His wife’s beater was soaked from his exertion, and all I kept thinking was that, for the love of god, just take this pussy already. Nothing could excite me more than watching a robust and toned man commanding me, enticing me to play along and let him be in charge.
But those sparkling eyes. Those little jewels of baby blue, coddled with nebulous softness, are a deadly vision, that darling disability — how can you resist the beauty expelling the beast?
Before I could reconsider my actions, my legs had betrayed me, and I was already walking towards him to offer him my hand.
I approached him, touching his hand as he opened the box labeled ‘kitchen.’ We were exhausted, having lugged that stuff up three flights of stairs to his new apartment, and my boy was hot.
He looked at me with a dimpled smile as I slipped his hand into mine.
“I was going to thank you — I’ve been struggling to get all this shit in here by myself.” He wiped his forehead with the palm of his hand.
“Not at all.” I squeezed his hand, “And being neighbors with a stud like you has its benefits.”