My Nymphomaniac Neighbor Girl
Brandi lived in the apartment upstairs with her parents.
I was a fan of Brandi’s. I’d see her parents leave the house for the weekend, and inevitably, within an hour, a young guy would arrive and stay for a few hours. I’d hear the bed squeaking in the room above mine. It was that way all weekend. I’ve counted as many as six different guys visiting Brandi during a single weekend when her parents were gone.
Sometimes, after the bed stopped making noise, I saw Brandi walk one of the young men to his car. He’d drive off, and she’d see me and wave. “Hi, Mr. Kensey,” she’d say, flashing a beautiful smile. I’d wave back, and as I heard her walk up the stairs to the second floor, I silently wished I was twenty years younger as
I’d get so horny listening to Brandi and seeing her. After such an episode, I sat on the sofa with a beer, watched porn on my phone, and imagined Brandi naked. I thought about the young guy that had just fucked Brandi.
Lost in my thoughts, I was about to rub one out when I heard the front door chime. It was Brandi. She stood in the doorway wearing a T-shirt, no bra, and tight jean shorts that showed more than just hints of her puffy vagina.
“Hello, Mr. Kensey. Sorry to bother you. Do you have a hammer I could borrow?” she asked.
