A Steamy Evening - 1



       Returning home on this hot, humid Friday afternoon in July, I reach the top of the stairs leading up to the deck behind my apartment.  I glance up toward my kitchen door. 

       “Hmmm.  What’s that?   A note?”  I wonder. 

       Setting the grocery bag down, I remove the small, folded slip of paper from the door frame, open it slowly and read:   “Brad,  I’d love to have you join me this evening – if you don’t already have a hot date lined up.    Are you interested in some pizza and beer?  :)   Drop by when you return.  J   xoxox” 

       My heart begins to throb.  I still recall last Sunday’s erotic encounter with my two neighbors, Robyn and Julie, as if those events occurred just moments ago.  “How could I ever forget those incredible two hours right here with them?    I feel flattered to learn that Julie is eager to spend the evening with me.” 

       “Robyn and Julie must have returned from their trip to visit their friend’s farm,”  I decided.  “I wonder what delights await me this evening?” 

       I hurriedly deposit the bag of groceries on my kitchen table, storing items that need to be kept cool in the fridge, and head for the stairwell leading up to the third floor.  Halfway up the stairs, I pause.   “Wait.   Actually, I should probably take a shower.   I feel pretty sweaty after being out in this heat for the last two hours. . . .   And shave again too, just in case.” 

      I return to my apartment and hastily shower and shave.  I slip on a fresh t-shirt and a pair of outer shorts, and head back upstairs. 

       “Hello,”  I call out, knocking on their back door.  No answer.  “Helloooo,”  I shout a bit louder.  Again, no answer.   I peer in through the window, but see no one.   Their back door is unlocked, so I decide to enter the kitchen.  “Wow!  It’s like an oven up here in this third floor loft.”   A large ceiling fan whirs quietly above my head, while  two large window fans hum noisily in other rooms – working in vain.   “Where could they be?”  After pausing a few seconds, it suddenly dawns on me.  “Oh, I’ll bet they’re out for their daily run.  That’s it, I’m sure. . . .  But in this heat???” 

       I slip Julie’s short note into my pocket and begin heading down the stairs toward my apartment.  As I reach the deck, I hear soft, slow footsteps climbing up the lower flight of stairs.  Seconds later, Julie appears in her finest jogging clothes (a cut off t-shirt - sans bra - exercise shorts and running shoes).  As she struggles up the last step, her eyes lift up to engage mine.  A gentle, welcoming smile fills her face.  She walks slowly toward me, almost staggering from exhaustion, still breathing heavily.  Her sweaty face is a bright, tomato red.  Her shirt, soaked through and through, reveals the contours of her small but lovely breasts. 

      “Hi!” she whispers, too tired to speak with a full voice. 

       “Hi!  Are you OK?”   I reply. 

      “I’ll be alright.  This heat really makes it hard to run.  It’s like there’s no air to breath at all.  Once I get in the shower and get something to drink, I’ll be fine.” 

       “Didn’t you bring along enough to drink while on your run? 

       “I brought this along,” Julie answered, lifting up an empty plastic soda bottle.  “But it didn’t last long at all.” 

       “When did you and Robyn get back?” 

       “I returned about 4:00.  Actually, Robyn’s not back yet.  She decided to stay up north a bit longer with Kaitlyn and Les.  She’ll be back on Monday.” 

       “I got it now.  So that’s why only you signed the note.” 


       Taking the last step toward me, she places her right hand on my shoulder and leans forward, letting her weary head rest heavily on my chest.  “Oh Brad, I’m sooooo tired.” 

      Rubbing her back with one hand and combing her dark, wet hair with my other hand, I press her head firmly onto my chest.  “Here, let me get you something cool to drink.  Would you like to stop in my place before going back to that oven of yours?” 

      Chuckling, she replies,  “Oh thanks, but I’ll be OK.  I just need to get into the shower right away.” 

      “I’ll be right back with some cold lemonade.  OK.  Just wait here now.” 

       Moments later, I bring out a tall glass of lemonade, and find Julie sitting on the stairs.  She eagerly takes the glass and gulps it down quickly.  “Oh, that’s a lifesaver,” she exclaims, her lips puckering from the drink’s tartness.  “Thanks so much again.” 

      She lifts her arms upward in a prolonged, busty stretch, pulls herself back onto her feet, hands me her empty glass, and begins climbing up toward her apartment.  As she reaches the landing, she suddenly stops and swivels around.  Putting on her familiar, naughty grin, she asks,  “Why don’t you join me for a shower?” 

       Blushing beet red at being taken totally by surprise, I stammer:    “I ...  I, uh.  Well, I just got out of the shower, actually.” 

      “Well, so just stand under the water and relax with me,”  she retorted, with a tone of mild disappointment.  “I can see you’re hot and sweaty already.  Come on, Brad.  It’ll be fun,” she pleaded. 

       Realizing my mistake, I reply,  “OK, I’ll be right up,  Are we ordering Pizza?” 

       “Oh, yeah.  I forgot about that,”  Julie responds. 

       “I’ll get my wallet and be up in a sec.” 

      By the time I reach Julie’s kitchen, I could already hear the soft, whooshing sound of water flowing from her shower. 

      “Hi,”  I shout, announcing my arrival, as I enter the bathroom.  “I’m here.” 

      “Hey, I forgot to get out the towels.  Could you get a couple large towels out of the cupboard?” 


       I quickly disrobe, tossing my clothes onto the window ledge.  Pulling my shorts off, I feel the beginnings of a fresh sexual arousal.  The pace of my heartbeat increases, and I notice the first waves of excitement building in my groin.  Pulling the shower curtain aside, I step in to join Julie, and am treated to the exquisite sight of her nude body standing beneath the broad, refreshing spray.   Eyes closed, she stands with legs spread slightly apart, shoulders and head arching backwards, breasts thrust forward.  The inviting torrent of water splashes across her face, flowing in numerous thin streamlets down her chest and abdomen, funneling into one larger stream over her mound and ultimately down the length of her legs.   Though she remains silent, her statuesque pose invites me to begin lathering her with soap. 

       Retrieving a bar of soap, I work up a rich lather with my hands.  Crouching before her, I begin a long, slow body massage, gradually working my way upwards, washing each leg in turn with slippery hands in long, sensuous strokes, gliding from thighs to ankles and back.  Julie remains motionless, statue-like, letting the warm water cascade down her body. 

      I want to continue with her pelvic area, but decide to save that for last.   Rising to my feet and refreshing the lather on my hands, I work my way slowly up her abdomen to her chest in light, circular strokes.  Her nipples, already firm, stand at attention, waiting receptively for my caresses.  “Oh, yes,”  the statue whispers with a sigh, as I brush her nipples, and then stroke them with my frictionless fingertips.   My soapy hands massage her firm breasts in circular motions and she begins inhaling deeply, purring softly.  Julie can bear to stand motionless, statue-like no longer.  Flexing her right leg, she thrusts it forward letting it take position against my thigh.  As my hands begin to explore her neck and shoulders, she suddenly brings her head forward.  Grasping my head in her hands, she pulls me quickly toward her,  joining our lips together.  Closing my eyes, I wrap my arms about her and massage her upper back and shoulders.  Soon, her tongue thrusts effortlessly through my parted lips, deep into my mouth, circling about, probing the surface of my tongue, and tracing a sensuous path around my inner cheeks. 

       “Mmmmm,” I take a deep breath.  I know that the moment has arrived to continue with what I put off earlier.   Pressing one hand against the hollow of her back, I pull her closer toward me.  The head of my rigid cock, brushes her abdomen, announcing his presence.  Closer and closer still, our bodies join in passionate contact.   As my cock is pressed flat against her body,   she begins swaying her hips from side to side, letting it be teased between our soft bellies.  I then move my other hand from her hip, slide it between her legs, and begin massaging the folds of her warm, wet lips.  I explore her entire flower, letting my fingers glide ever-so-gently along its swollen petals and stroking her erect clitoris.  Letting two fingers tease her vaginal orifice, I enter it only slightly at first, twisting and swirling, before thrusting deeper into her.   Her increasingly louder sighs and irregular breathing signal her approaching ecstasy.  Beginning to rock back and forth, she thrusts her hips even harder against me, signaling her need for even deeper penetration.  The pace of Julie’s breathing continues to quicken and becomes more and more strained.   She begins gasping for breath, exhaling and inhaling directly into my mouth, teasing the breath from my lungs.  I reach up with my other hand to the shower head, tilting it outward slightly, directing the flow of water so that it now cascades over both of us.  Her body trembles as her orgasm builds.  Soon, her need for oxygen exceeds what I can supply from my lungs, and she finally lifts her lips from mine, gasping deeply for air.  Sighing loudly, she digs her nails into my back, clutches me firmly, and buries her head against my cheek to ride out the raging storm within. We stand in total embrace beneath the warm, pleasurable spray for several minutes until Julie begins to come down from her high. 

       “Whew,”  she sighs, as she steps back, looking lovingly into my eyes with her piercing, hazel-colored eyes.  “Oh, god, that was beautiful.”  She grasped my head with her hands again, pulling my face unto her’s, blanketing my face with kisses. 

      “Where’s the soap?”  Julie asks softly, with her best nasty grin.  I reach over to the soap dish, pick up the soap, and hand it to her, smiling in anticipation.  She works up a rich lather with her hands under the spray, and without speaking reaches for my groin.   Looking intently, deep into my eyes once more, she begins fondling my balls and stroking my throbbing cock.   Instantly, I feel my hot load rising through the shaft, and I explode, shooting thick ribbons of cum onto her abdomen, arms and hand.  While cumming, I hold in my breath and struggle to remain as silent as possible, so as not to let her know what is happening.  I don’t wish to have her apply torturous squeezes on me this time, as she did last Sunday.  Soon enough, however, she realizes that I’ve climaxed, for her hand collects my thick cum as it passes over the tip of my organ.  I recoil slightly from her stroking hands to lessen the growing sensitivity of my cock head. 

       Julie’s eyes open wide in surprise.  Mouth ajar, she exclaims,  “No!  You didn’t cum already, did you?”  Looking down at my cock, she breaks into a hearty laugh.  “No way!  I hadn’t even begun to give you pleasure!” 

       Her contagious laughter ignites mine.  Blushing deeply, I nod in affirmation. 

       “I can’t believe it,”  she cries, furrowing her eye brows.  Are you on Viagra, or what?” 

      “No, no, I swear I’m not taking anything,” chuckling.   “I’m not that old.  Really!” 

       “I was hoping to have a lot of fun with you, and give you the best, awful wanking you’ve ever had.” 

       Sensing for the first time that she was mildly displeased, I reply,  “I’m sorry, Jule.  I just couldn’t hold it back.  It all been too stimulating.  There’s nothing that gets me off quicker than soapy hands – nothing.” 

       “Hmmm,”  she moaned, shaking her head again in disapproval.  “Well, that’s alright.  Here, come under the spray and wash off.  We should probably turn the shower off now.” 

       Stepping out of the shower, we each pick up a towel and begin drying the other off. 

       “I got an idea,”  she says, breaking the somewhat awkward silence.  “I need to shave my legs now.  Why don’t you get dressed and order the pizza.  By the time it arrives, I should be done in here.  I’m famished and can’t wait to eat any longer.” 

       “Sounds like a plan,” I agree. 

Continues with “A Steamy Evening - 2”  See also, “Neighborly Delight,”  which precedes this story.

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