Testing the Waters

You wake up from a deep, hazy sleep. The kind you don’t want to pull yourself from. It’s a quiet night. The air is chilly and there’s nothing you’d rather do than curl up deeper into your blanket. But there’s a hot palm caressing up your ass. It’s refusing to stop its movement.

He’s home early, you think, your sleepy mind not as annoyed about it as if you were awake. Especially since you’d gotten into that argument right before he left for the bar. I thought he’d be out again till dawn.

His hands push against your lower back, pressing your stomach deeper into the mattress. You resist the movement only slightly. You’re so exhausted, but mildly curious. He’s never indulged any of your wildest fantasies, no matter how often you ask. You’ve only come close to it when he’s drunk. And tonight he’s definitely drunk.

A hand squeezes your hip. Another cups your ass cheek, lifting the heft, squeezing it with appreciation. The kind he rarely pays you. You arch into the movement ever so slightly. You’re still so tired, and you want to see him work for it.

His hand slides across your ass, down between your thighs. He spreads them roughly. His calloused palm raises goosebumps against your skin.

Since when does he have callouses?

The thought slips from your mind, because that is definitely the sound of his belt buckle hitting the floor. Your heart begins to hammer in your chest.

Holy shit. He’s really going to do it!

You try to hold as still as you can.

The mattress dips beneath his weight, and you can feel his thighs caging you in now. And then the hot press of thick fingers between your folds, lining up his cock- the breathless, quiet laugh is far too rich, far too deep to be his.

Your eyes snap open, but it’s too late. A cock much larger than the one you’re accustomed to slides between your folds. You attempt to turn to face him but a hand reaches through the blankets and roughly grabs your face, pressing it into the mattress. His other hand presses his cock through your centre, spreading you almost painfully wide as he sinks his length inside you.

You let out a surprised hiss but it’s muffled beneath his hand. A hand you now recognize.

“Shh,” he says.

It’s not your boyfriend coming home late from the bar at all. It’s your asshole neighbour. The one who lives in the flat beneath yours. Who smokes cigarettes on his balcony and shouts at his TV on the weekends. And holy fuck, his cock is huge.

“Easy now,” he murmurs. His voice is breathless and eager.

He gives an experimental thrust, grunting when you spasm against him. You can’t help it. He’s thick and pulsing hot, filling you in ways you haven’t felt in a long time. Delayed, you remember to fight, your hands catching in the blankets as you attempt to rip his hands off your mouth.

His movements don’t pause. The fucker is still thrusting into you as he pins your hands to the mattress. Lying on your stomach you can’t see him in the dark, but you catch the silhouette of his shoulders. He’s got broad muscular shoulders. A mechanics build, with big arms from hauling pieces of junk around the mechanics shop downtown.

You’ve seen him working there. You recall how he’d sit outside on the hottest days in July. The shop door hauled open, an icy beer dripping condensation in his hand. Always smoking those disgusting cigarettes. His thick moustache and five o’clock shadow, grease covering his overalls. You hate how handsome he always looks. Why does he have to be such a dick?

“Fuck- you feel incredible.” He laughs like he can hardly believe it. His thrusts are stuttered, barely more than jerks of his hips. “Won’t you hold still? Be a good girl now.”

You let out a string of curses behind the palm plastered to your mouth. It smells a little like iron and nicotine, and you hate it even more.

He chuckles, “Oh, don’t pretend to be mad. I know alllll about your secrets.” He thrusts in all the way, grinding his hips against yours, and you spasm around his cock. He’s hitting your clit on every thrust, making sure to massage you tighter and tighter with every movement. Now that he’s got a good grip on your hands, a proper bit of control over the situation, he begins to thrust with earnest.

The sounds of wet slapping fill the air. Humiliating.

Why am I so wet?

He’s pounding into you now, grinding and thrusting harder. You can’t help but squeeze his length. He’s so big. Thick and hard and his cock is hot, like a furnace inside you, massaging deeper than you thought possible. Fuck he’s right against your g-spot.

“That’s it baby girl. Good. You can’t hide your movements from me. I can see your hips twitch. Go on. Move for me.”

You hiss something that might’ve been a protest, but it’s garbled and full of a lot less venom than a few minutes ago. It’s harder to concentrate on your anger. Not with the way he’s filling you.

“It feels good, doesn’t it? I’ve thought about doing this plenty of times.” He leans over you, the scent of nicotine heavy on his breath. “I thought about it when I saw you in the laundry room last. Always hogging the fucking dryers. I wanted to bend you over that double loader and show you how big this cock really is. But I’m a gentleman.” He chuckles at that.

He’s still pounding away. It’s getting harder to think. Your body is tightening around him, sucking him deeper, accepting his almost inhuman size and girth.

“I thought you liked that little prick. The way you leave the balcony doors open when you fuck. Makin’ God awful noises all hours. Don’t you have any respect for your neighbours? It’s like you wanted me to hear.” He slams his hips against yours for effect, and you whimper against his palm. “I thought he must be showin’ you a hell of a time. Even a little weasel like that. Then I noticed a pattern. Every time that bastard leaves for work, there’s a loud buzzing coming from this room.”

He lets go of your hands so he can shuffle through the blankets, until he finds it. The vibrator you forgot to hide before you fell asleep. He expertly finds the power button. A familiar buzzing fills the room. He snorts. “You left the balcony doors open last time you used it. This thing has to be what? Ten inches? Aint no way his cock is satisfying you.”

He laughs again. You want to shout at him, to ask how the fuck he knows anything about your boyfriend’s cock, but you can’t. Not with his hand covering your mouth. You attempt to wrench in his grip again. When you twist your hips, it only makes your clit grind against him harder. He slams his hips into yours firmly. He lets go of your mouth so he can grip your hips with both hands and pull your bodies as close as possible. He pounds into you with relentless force. Now that you’re in his grip he has no plans of stopping. A strangled moan escapes your lips.

“That’s it. See? When you a fuck a woman right she doesn’t need to scream at all.” A calloused hand moves down your back. “Look at you. Beautiful.”

Your eyes widen at his words. He must have lost his mind. There’s no way this man- who utterly hates you- could think you’re beautiful. It must be part of his game.

“Fuck- Fuck you!” You attempt to spit. You try to shove your hands against the mattress and sit up, but he’s faster, stronger. He shoves you down easily. Clicks his tongue.

“I should fuck that piss poor attitude right out of you,” he grunts. His right hand covers your mouth, so he doesn’t have to hear your reply.

He presses his left hand against your back, arching your spine upwards, encouraging your hips to open up further. He fills you completely. His cock pulses against your most sensitive parts, like he knows exactly where you need it most.

He begins thrusting again. You have to bite your tongue to keep from crying out. Why does it feel so good? You fist the blankets. You squeeze them tightly. It takes an effort to focus on the painful grip instead of where he’s spearing you. He’s splitting you open, sending hot pulses of pleasure through your clit and up through your entire body.

It’s always been a competition with him. Your neighbourly spats range from who can make the most noise, who can steal the favoured parking stall out-front first, who can make the most complaints to the landlord to get the other evicted. There’s always been an odd, simmering tension between you. You’re both competitive, and he’s an absolute dick, always willing to stoop a little lower. This competition is different than the rest though. This is one that he cannot win.

His pace increases. There’s no distraction that could take your mind off his cock. The sound of thrusting grows louder. Your core is practically dripping wet. You try to keep your hips stiff, but it’s impossible not to arch back into him when he grabs you like that. He gives your ass cheek another squeeze, this time grabbing it hard enough to leave a bruise.

Thwack! His hand comes down on your ass so hard your entire body jolts. You let out a stifled squeal of surprise behind his palm. He massages the offended spot. It must be bright red even in the moonlight. The burning sensation makes each thrust more sensitive. All your muscles are tight now, on edge, waiting for another surprise movement.

He only squeezes your now-bruised cheek. His hand travels over your ass as he explores your body. He pinches your hips and reaches forward to squeeze your breasts too. You try to push his hand away, but it’s hard when he’s got you in such a compromising position. Especially when he rolls your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. You try to hide your moan; suddenly thankful his other hand is covering your mouth.

“Thats it,” he murmurs. His voice has lost some of its anger, the husky pleasure edging his tone. “Keep pressing into me. Go on. You feel so good baby girl. Let me hear. Do you even notice? Those little noises you’re making. You love this cock, don’t you? Fuck you feel so good. So tight. You keep squeezing me like this and I might come.”

It takes a moment for the words to register. To realize what exactly he means.