I slide my shorts and briefs off, my erection standing at attention. I rub her mound a few times, but she’s already soaking wet and ready to go. I slide inside her, slowly, knowing she’s probably sore from the day before. Sure enough, Susie lets out a long and low moan as I fill her. I gently tug at her hair, wrapping it around my wrist, and stroke her a little harder.
“Oh, Brady,” she calls out. “Brady!”
I shudder, hearing my name on her lips. Slowly, I push into her again, filling her with every inch of my hardness before pulling back out. I do this for a few moments, driving both of our bodies crazy with the anticipation of orgasm. Her pussy grips me with every stroke, driving me insane with pleasure. I bite my lip, trying my hardest not to explode early.
I put my face in her hair, and the smell of vanilla fills my senses. I start pumping her harder and harder. Her moans turn to pleasure-filled yelps. I hear the sound of our bodies smacking together, driving me closer and closer to a climax. We are both breathing heavily and beads of sweat start forming on my forehead. I keep slamming into her over and over until we both peak at the same time. Her body closes in around me, contracting and squeezing my erection as I fill her with my warm seed.
I collapse on top of her, still sheathed inside her sweet wetness. Neither of us says anything as we just lie there, living in the moment. I kiss her back and shoulders, sending shivers down her spine. Finally, I stand and slide out of her and she rolls over and looks up at me with those enticing brown eyes again.
“How did I get so lucky, Neighbor?”
I chuckle.
“Kid, I’m definitely the lucky one. I love you, Susie from Next Door.” I bend over and kiss her gently.
She kisses me back, and then whispers against my lips, “I love you even more, my soldier.”
And with that, our destiny is sealed.
Epilogue
Susie
* * *
Two years later.
“Baby, what do you want for dinner?” Brady asks me from the kitchen while I sit in our living room.
“Um, how about some spaghetti? And your homemade garlic bread!” I suggest. He smiles and walks over to me before pressing a kiss to my lips.
“Fantastic suggestion. I’ll run to the store and pick up what we need. Text me if you need anything while I’m out!” he says.
“Okay I will. Be safe,” I tell him. With another kiss, he grabs the keys off the hook and heads out the door.
I turn back to my laptop, trying to find the motivation to finish this paper that is due next week. I’m near the end of my second year of junior college and have one last paper for my English Lit class. Ironically, it’s an analysis of Cyrano de Bergerac. Brady smiled wickedly when I told him about our final assignment, and suggested that I write something about our love story.
Although slightly out of scope, I decided to incorporate a few themes from our relationship while answering the required discussion questions. School is amazing, and I’ve been doing really well. I’ve already been accepted as a junior transfer at Duckworth University, a small college not too far away. It’s perfect, because our new house is only a fifteen minute drive from campus.
After all, I couldn’t stay in Remford. After my mom found out about us, we tried to all have a sit down with my parents to explain that we were in love and in a real relationship. But they just weren’t buying it. They felt like Brady took advantage of me and was a “sicko” that liked little girls. No matter how hard we tried to explain it to them, Jim and Jackie wouldn’t budge.
I moved all my stuff out and into Brady’s house the very day, but living next door to my parents was too weird. I dreaded going outside and seeing them, and it was as if everyone in the neighborhood knew of our forbidden love. We were treated as pariahs. Even Ankle Weights Joe had the audacity to turn up his nose at us while he ran around the neighborhood in those ridiculous short shorts.
It became unbearable, so we decided to move and start over, and it was the right decision. We’re so happy in our little home together, and sometimes, I work in the yard planting begonias. Brady has quite the green thumb too, and he’s working on a few fruit trees so that we’ll have our own fruit next summer.
I finish typing the last few paragraphs of my essay and submit it right when Brady walks back in the door. He has a handful of groceries that he sets on the counter. I go and sit at the island, watching him work magic in the kitchen. He does most of the cooking because he’s the better chef, while I do the bulk of the cleaning. It’s a perfect set-up.