Gina 'In Heat
GINA 'IN HEAT'
OLDER NEIGHBOR HEARS LUSTY YOUNG GINA,
FANTASIZING ABOUT HIM.
BASED ON A POST BY LILY
ANN [https://www.literotica.com/authors/lily_ann/works/stories]. LISTEN TO THE ►PODCAST [https://archive.org/download/spring-erotic-stories/GinaInHeat.mp3] AT STEAMY
STORIES [https://feeds.feedburner.com/steamy-stories].
[https://archive.org/download/spring-erotic-stories/GinaInHeat2.jpg]
I slammed the door behind me as I walked in the
house, getting home from work. My boyfriend, Jason, had called me
while I was driving to tell me that he wasn't coming over tonight. I
was incredibly angry at him; my parents hardly ever left me home
alone, and I had been looking forward to having him over for most of
the weekend. I had planned everything out, and had spent most of the
day thinking about taking him into the hot tub, where we would fool
around, ending the night with a long session of sex in my room. I had
been wet most of the day just thinking about it. But apparently,
Jason thought it was more important to go on a road trip,
volunteering with the semi-pro hockey team, than to take advantage of
a weekend with my parents gone.
I'm fed up. When can I count on a college boy to be a
man? I'm ready for a man. A real man, with real manly priorities.
Specifically; to know when his devoted woman needs a good fucking!
All week I have been anticipating this weekend. I waxed my cunt. I
got all my lingerie selections laid out for rounds one through 8 of
the weekend marathon with Jason.
I had 6ndirectors-cut versions of soft porn, for
living room fucking. A fresh change of lingerie for each shagging
session. I even had 3 cosplay outfits for fantasy celebrity fucking.
I had the massage table set up in the den, with oils and towels. I
fantasized about him all morning. I had to change pantyliner 3 times
by the time I left work.
By 2pm this afternoon he was a veritable sex god, in
my lust-driven fantasies. Then he fucking bailed on me for a road
trip with his buddies.
He and I had been dating since our junior year of
high school, and he was the only guy I had ever slept with. Lately, I
had begun to think that whatever had attracted me to him in the first
place was completely gone, as I was getting more and more frustrated
with him. I didn't ask much; it wasn't like I got jealous whenever he
was with his friends or anything like that. But I did expect him to
spend some time with me, and the fact that he would rather chase a
hockey team than sleep with me, didn't have anything to do with me
being possessive or jealous; it was insulting. I don't understand how
he'd rather go on some sausage-fest hockey trip rather than have sex
with his girlfriend.
Shortly after I had kicked my shoes at the hall
closet, nearly hitting the cat, and dropped my bags in the living
room, the doorbell rang. I jumped, thinking that perhaps Jason had
changed his mind, and ran to the door, grinning as I opened it.
Mr. Davidson, one of my neighbors, was standing on
the front step with a few envelopes in his hand. The smile on my face
faded slightly. "Hi Mr. D," I said as pleasantly as I
could.
"Hi, Gina," he said. He looked at me
knowingly. "Expecting someone else?"
I blushed and shook my head. "No, not really."
Mr. Davidson owned the house next door. We're at the
end of the cul-de-sac. A steep hilly forest is directly behind our
fence line, so His house number is 84 08. Ours is 84 09. Mom and Dad
bought this lot because it's the largest and provides privacy. The
Davidson house is the only other lot that can even see our back yard
pool, over the privacy fence. We occasionally let some neighbors use
our pool.
He laughed. "I assume your parents told you I
would be checking in on you, but I don't expect you to be by yourself
all weekend. Don't worry, I won't tell." He winked.
I sighed. "No, Mr. D. I'm sadly not expecting
anyone."
He frowned. "What about that boyfriend of yours,
Jerry or whatever his name was?"
"Jason," I said. "He went on a road
trip with the hockey team."
"I'm sorry," said Mr. Davidson. "Well,
I just wanted to drop off these letters. The mailman put them in my
box again, by accident. Otherwise I'll just call or text you, okay?"
I nodded, embarrassed. Mr. Davidson must have thought
I was pathetic; I had the house to myself the whole weekend, and I
couldn't get my boyfriend to come over. I took the letters from him
and smiled at Mr. Davidson as he turned and walked away. He was a
really nice guy, and more than once I had found myself staring at
him, wondering what he'd be like in bed. He was 13 years older than I
was; younger than my dad, I think, by maybe 8 years, but he didn't
look it.
I usually saw him jogging in the mornings on my way
to work, or when college was in session, school. He was in pretty
good shape, not built like some of the guys my age are, but pretty
trim. He had broad shoulders, and dark brown hair that was already
slightly graying mostly around the temples, but sprinkled throughout.
A couple years ago, he had been a professor at the college I was
going to now. But last year, before I started, he decided to change
professions and started working as a researcher for some big company
that let him make his own hours, so long as he came up with results.
I was a bit disappointed; I had been looking forward to taking Mr.
Davidson's class for a long time.
I closed the door after he had stepped off the porch,
though I didn't bother locking it behind me. Whatever I thought about
Mr. Davidson was really just fantasy; I knew he thought I was still
just a kid, even though I was already done my first year of college.
I couldn't really blame him for that.
I was fairly short, and pretty small. I hated how
boyish my body looked, sometimes. My face has that 'Kathy Ireland'
look which people associate with being a kid. My Scandinavian genes
gave me impeccably smooth skin and I completely skipped the acne
phase of puberty. My tits weren't that small, but they were so firm
and high on my chest, that unless I wore an extreme push up bra, I
had no cleavage at all. My hips were fairly undefined, and I really
wished I had bigger curves. To keep myself from feeling like a boy, I
let my blonde hair grow long, but that just made me look younger. No
one ever believed that I was 20. When I was in school, people always
thought I had skipped a grade, when in actuality, I started school a
year late, and was a year older than most of my graduating class. I
just looked young.
I doubted that Mr. Davidson found me attractive at
all. Plus, his cougar wife; 3 years older than him; had left him just
a couple months before, for a guy who was only a few years older than
me. Being with someone my age probably wasn't one of his top
priorities right now.
But still, I couldn't help myself from imagining Mr.
Davidson coming over and just taking me. There was something
intriguing about being with an older man, especially one who looked
like Mr. Davidson. I loved the idea that he could show me so much,
just the idea that he was older. I wondered if he would treat me like
an equal, or like I was some young kid. I had to admit, I would love
if Mr. Davidson would treat me kind of like a kid; telling me what to
do, teasing me; I sighed as I walked down the hall, flipping through
the letters he had handed me. I must be insane, I thought. I put the
letters on the kitchen counter and leaned against it, thinking. I had
an image in my head of Mr. Davidson lifting up my skirt and licking
my pussy, my fingers tangled in his salt-and-pepper hair as he
tongue-fucked me. The thought made me bite my lip. My pussy was wet,
and had been fairly slick most of the day as I had thought about
Jason, but I was too mad at him now. Mr. Davidson, on the other hand.
I let one of my hands slide up my stomach and start
to rub my tit through my shirt. I only had a thin bra on underneath
my blouse, and I could feel my big brown nipple poking through. I
pinched it through the fabric and cried out softly. Most of the time,
I didn't always need to wear a bra; my tits weren't all that large,
but mostly they were firm enough that you couldn't really tell in
certain shirts - but I still felt wrong going to work without one on.
Especially since My nipples are very prominent when I get aroused or
feel chilled.
Still, they were sensitive, and even through the
fabric, touching them was making me even wetter. I kept rubbing my
nipple through my blouse as I lifted my skirt slightly, using a
single finger to rub against my damp panties. They were so wet that I
could feel the juices soaking through onto my finger, and I let
myself touch my clit through the wet fabric for a few moments before
I took my hand out of my skirt.
I couldn't do this in the kitchen, I thought, and I
quickly made my way to my room, which was downstairs. I left the
lights in the den off, the light coming through the windows enough to
see, and left the door to my room open so it was lit dimly. I started
to unbutton my shirt, wanting to get my bra off so I could rub my
tits properly. I glanced in the mirror as I did so, and laughed at
myself, shaking my head. I usually didn't have to masturbate;
whenever I wanted anything, Jason was more than willing to give me
what I needed. If he wasn't watching hockey, of course. And when I
did touch myself, it was usually at night, in bed, before I fell
asleep. I don't think I had ever done this before; purposely gone
downstairs and stripped to masturbate. The thought was kind of
exciting.
I got my blouse off and dropped it on the floor, my
bra soon following it. I started to rub both my tits, sighing as I
pinched both my nipples. I let myself enjoy it for a few moments,
before I decided I needed more. I unzipped my skirt and slid out of
it, wiggling my hips so it fell to the floor. I looked in the mirror
again. My nipples were hard, the prominent brown stiff nubs sticking
out from my pale tits. I slid my hands down my stomach and hips, my
skin tingling with anticipation as I touched my skin. I still had my
panties on. They weren't exactly sexy; just plain white cotton,
though they were bikini cut and had a little pink rose embroidered in
the center. Even in the dim lighting, I could see the wet spot
between my legs. I stared in the mirror, watching as I slid a hand
into my panties, rubbing my neatly shaven mound, and gasping as I
started to slide a finger along my slit. I couldn't believe how wet I
was for a moment, until I thought again about Mr. Davidson licking my
cunt.
The thought excited me even more and I circled my
finger around my clit before sliding the tip of it into my tight,
dripping wet hole. I sighed softly, pulling it out and circling my
clit again before repeating the action. After a few more repetitions,
I couldn't take it anymore.
I pulled my hand out of my panties, giggling as I
chucked them right out the door of my room. I sat on my bed, swinging
my legs up onto the covers as I arranged the pillows so I was propped
up just slightly. I started to touch my tits again, and this time let
one hand continue to fondle myself as I rubbed a finger along my
slit. It was covered in juices by the time I slide it inside me, and
I sighed as I moved it slowly. I closed my eyes, imagining that the
hand on my tit was Mr. Davidson's, and that he was whispering in my
ear that I had to be a good little girl if I wanted more. I kept
moving my finger slowly, just enjoying the feel of my tight walls as
I touched myself.
I imagined that Mr. Davidson dipped his head down
between my legs and was licking at my clit while he fingered me
slowly, and I used my thumb to press down on it lightly. The action
made me moan unintentionally, and I gasped at the sudden sound. I
laughed again, remembering that I didn't really have to be quiet; no
one was home.
I kept pinching my nipple as I worked my pussy with
my other hand. I started to move my finger a little bit faster,
before deciding it wasn't enough. I took it out, rubbing two fingers
along my slit, collecting my juices on both of them before I slide
them back in my pussy. I moaned, this time intentionally, moving my
fingers slowly again. I tweaked my nipple as I gently rubbed my clit
again. "Fuck," I whispered, tilting my head back.
I was imagining Mr. Davidson licking my tingling
nipples as he fingered me, his strong hands on my knees and spreading
my legs, when there was a loud bang from above me. I glared at the
cieling. The stupid cat had probably knocked over his scratching post
again, and I was more than annoyed that he had interrupted me. I
rolled my eyes, shutting them again as I continued to finger my cunt.
The image in my mind now was of Mr. Davidson, and
somehow between my last fantasy and this one, he had lost his
clothing. He was lying over top of me, and I could see his cock. I
didn't imagine it to be any larger than average; I was a really small
girl, and big cocks kind of made me nervous. Jason had once shown me
a picture of a girl not much bigger than me with a cock that must
have been thicker than my wrist inside her. I think something like
that would just rip me in half, and to tell the truth, they kind of
scared me. An average cock like Jason's was more than enough. It took
all weekend for me to recover from the first time Jason ripped my
hymen open.
I rubbed my hand along my pussy, moaning much louder
than was necessary as I imagined Mr. Davidson rubbing his cock along
me, asking me if a little girl like me could handle him. I pushed my
fingers back inside my cunt, raising my hips just slightly as I
pretended they were his cock. I curled my fingers a bit, rubbing them
against my g-spot as I started moving them quicker. I was gasping
now, still fondling my tit as I imagined Mr. Davidson thrusting into
me.
I bit my lip, shuddering as I felt the onset of my
orgasm coming on. In my mind, Mr. Davidson was holding my legs over
his shoulders, pushing his cock deep inside me with every thrust.
"Fuck, Mr. D," I whispered, squeezing my
eyes shut as tight as they would go. I was close, and I moved my
fingers as fast as they could, my other hand abandoning my tit so it
could pay full attention to my clit. "Oh Mr. D, fuck, fuck,
fuck. Fuck me, Mr. D;"
I don't even know exactly what I was whispering, all
I know is that in my mind, Mr. Davidson was thrusting hard into me. I
was writhing under my own fingers, imagining everything I could about
his cock, when I heard the floor creak outside my room.
The sound terrified me, and I pulled both my hands
away from me, though it was absolute torture to do so when I was so
close. "Tiger?" I said. I knew it wasn't the cat. The floor
only creaked when something about as heavy as a person stood on it;
it was how I knew when my dad was trying to listen in on my phone
conversations. I rolled off my bed quickly and grabbed a pair of
scissors off my desk, holding them out in front of me as I walked to
my bedroom door. I flicked on the light as I stepped out.
"Ah! Mr. Davidson!" I shrieked. He was
standing right beside my door, a shocked expression on his face, a
white envelope in his hand. "Jesus, what are you doing here?!"
I felt my face flush, and I was pretty sure the rest
of my body did, too. That was when I remembered the rest of my body
was naked, and I shrieked again, using my hands in a lame attempt to
cover myself. I was still holding the scissors, and I dropped them
onto the floor.
"I must have dropped one of the letters on my
way over," he said, looking away from me. "I was just going
to leave it on the counter with the others, but I heard you; um;
well, groan, and I thought you were hurt or sick, so I came down to;"
I took a few steps back towards my room, trying to
find a shirt, a skirt, anything to cover myself. I could see myself
in the mirror, my face beet-red, and the color trailing down my neck.
My clothes were on the other side of my room, so I grabbed the
blanket off my bed and covered myself with it.
"I; I was just; I didn't;" I stuttered as I
walked back into the family room. Mr. Davidson was still staring at
the floor, and holding the envelope. I reached out and took the
envelope from him, but when I did, something fell out of his hand and
to the floor. I looked down to see my panties on the ground in front
of me. "Why did you;"
"They were on the floor, I thought; It was kind
of dark, I didn't know they were your; uh; panties;" he said.
I buried my head in my hands, humiliated. "Look,
Gina, it's okay," he said. "Everyone does; that; and you
know, it's just;"
"I'm so embarrassed," I said. Holding up
the blanket, I tried to walk past Mr. Davidson so I could run into
the bathroom and just hide there until he left. However, the blanket
was dragging on the floor, and I had only taken a couple of steps
before I tripped.
Mr. Davidson instinctively reached out, catching me
before I fell on my face. The angle he caught me at, however, he had
to move his foot to balance himself, and it got caught on my blanket.
We both fell to the ground, Mr. Davidson's arm around my
blanket-covered waist to keep me from falling. I ended up squished
between him and the wall, his arm pinned beneath me.
I looked at him for a moment after we fell, trying to
figure out why, in God's name, this was happening to me. Mr. Davidson
tried to smile, though he was looking at me with a large amount of
pity. He couldn't move with his arm pinned under me, and I couldn't
get up without my blanket falling down. I was so upset that just
burst into tears.
"Hey, don't cry, honey," he said, his
expression changing a bit.
"You must think I'm pathetic," I sobbed,
turning my head away from him. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Davidson."
"What happened to Mr. D?" he teased. "And
what are you apologizing for? I'm incredibly flattered, Gina."
I sniffled and shook my head. My stomach hurt, I was
so embarrassed, and I turned my head away from him. "You think
I'm just a stupid little kid, and I should be trying to prove to you
that I'm not, instead of just crying like a baby." I didn't want
him to think of me as a stupid kid; my fantasy had definitely been a
lot sexier than that. I flushed horribly.
He adjusted the blanket around me slightly. "I
don't think you're a stupid little kid," he said. "I've
never thought that. I think you're a beautiful young lady, Gina."
I sniffled, looking at him. "You think I'm
pretty?" I whispered.
He laughed, hugging me slightly. "Of course I
do. I think you're adorable. And you shouldn't be embarrassed about
this, okay? I won't tell anyone."
I sighed, almost forgetting I was naked as I rested
my head against his shoulder. "Adorable," I said sadly.
"What's wrong with that?"
I shrugged. "People don't think of 'adorable'
people in the way I was just thinking about you, Mr. D."
He was quiet for a moment. "Gina," he said,
his voice very soft. "I can't tell you the things I think about
you. I'm 8 years from being the age of your father. I don't want to
be a dirty old man."
I turned my head a bit. "What do you mean?"
He shook his head. "We shouldn't talk about
this." He struggled a bit, trying to get up. "Look, I
promise I won't say anything to anyone, and we won't talk about this
again, okay?"
"Mr. D, what do you mean?" I asked,
standing up as he did. He started to walk to the stairs, and I
hoisted the bottom of the blanket up as high as I could so I could
hurry towards him. "Tell me!" I ordered, as I slipped
between him and the stairs.
