I can wait

Alison doesn't show up for breakfast again the next morning, but I am more confident than ever that it is just a matter of time 'till I get what I want. Sure enough, the smell of fresh-baked bread works to draw her into my kitchen when she gets back from classes that afternoon and stays in the kitchen for a few minutes to eat a slice. Neither of us makes any mention of the fact that she didn't come down to sit with me the previous night. It is tempting to tease her about it, or even put pressure on her more directly, but her shy smile when she slowly realizes that I am not going to push her is worth the extra wait time. She doesn't come down to sit with me that night either, but she eats her Special K with me again the next morning before leaving for school.

The next few days pass by quickly with only a few notable changes from our normal routine. Dick comes over Tuesday evening, and after some tense moments with raised voices and a slammed door I hear his loud footsteps on the steps outside and the screech of tires as his old Nissan leaves the driveway. He clearly wasn't happy with whatever it was that Alison had to tell him; I find myself smiling a little as I watch TV and it has nothing to do with the news.

Wednesday night Alison still doesn't come downstairs after dinner, but as I sip my tea and nibble on banana bread I hear muffled sounds coming from upstairs. It takes me a few minutes for me to realize what I'm listening to. I guess Dick isn't the only one who is frustrated by not getting any action the night before because what I'm listening to, while not as loud as Dick's enthusiastic banging, is clearly the rhythmic rocking of Alison's bed and her soft needy moans.

Climbing the steps is a complete violation of my relationship as a landlord. To be clear, I crossed that line over a week ago, but I find myself sitting in the dark just outside Alison's bedroom door listening to the growing desperation of my lovely tenant as she tries to find some sexual relief. I don't remember consciously deciding to try the door, but when it opens a few inches I see a truly lovely sight. Alison is writhing on her bed bathed in moonlight with one hand inside her panties and her legs slowly opening and closing as she gasps and moans.

I am instantly erect watching the lovely coed's frantic masturbation. It doesn't take long to realize that, while she is clearly turned on by her efforts, she seems unable to reach the climax that she so clearly needs. With the door cracked open I can now begin to make out what she is saying and as I decode the words I know I have to take action.