alone with the neighbor

**Wednesday**

23:17

I open the door with trembling hands. Mr. Jackson is standing in the living room, hurriedly putting on his jacket. He gives me a nervous “Good night, son,” his voice hoarse, and practically runs out.

Laura is already fully dressed: long cotton pajamas, robe buttoned up to her neck. She throws her arms around me in the entryway like she’s been waiting hours for that hug.

“Honey… I was so nervous,” she whispers against my chest. “We just watched a movie about missionaries in Africa and talked about Italian food and traveling… nothing else. But being in my bra and panties in front of him… oh God, I was shaking the whole time.

I told him you didn’t know I was staying that undressed, and he said it would be ‘our little secret.’ It felt… exciting to tell him that, you know? I thought you’d like imagining another man thinking we have a secret behind your back…”

She laughs nervously and covers her face. Then she drops to her knees in the living room and prays an extra-long prayer asking forgiveness “just in case it was vanity.” I just stare at the carpet, jealousy burning me up inside while my cock is hard as stone.

**Thursday**

23:28

Same thing again: I open the door and Jackson is already at the entrance, jacket in hand, face flushed, stammering “See you tomorrow, God willing,” and nearly tripping as he leaves.

Laura greets me fully clothed again, but this time her eyes are shining and her cheeks are glowing.

“He was… sad today. He talked a lot about his wife. He said I reminded him of her when she was young… especially,” she lowers her voice, “because of my breasts. He kept staring at them. I felt kind of sorry for him.”

She goes quiet for a second, fidgeting with her robe belt. Then, almost in a whisper:

“Would it be really wrong… if tomorrow I let him see a little more? Just a little. I don’t know why I even asked. I’m sorry, honey, I shouldn’t even think it…”

Her voice cracks: she doesn’t want to, but curiosity and pity are winning. Stomach in knots, I stroke her cheek and say exactly what I know the blackmailer will want to hear later:

“It wouldn’t be wrong, baby. He’ll never marry you, never have you. Showing him just a little more is… almost Christian charity. And it turns me on knowing another man gets to see what only I will ever truly own.”

She bites her lip, nods very slowly, and that night she prays even longer on her knees, voice trembling.

**Friday**

In the morning, before I leave for work, Laura hugs me in the kitchen and whispers in my ear:

“Honey… I’m already a little turned on just thinking about tonight. I don’t know what’s wrong with me…”

She lets out an embarrassed little giggle and runs off to the shower.

23:41

I get home and Mr. Jackson is already gone.

Laura is waiting for me in the living room… in nothing but her bra and panties. The set is white, almost see-through lace. Her nipples are rock-hard under the fabric. There’s a big, obvious dark wet spot right in the center of her panties. She’s soaked, but the panties are still properly in place—no one pulled them down. Pure arousal.

She looks at me with doe eyes, half-covering herself with her arms.

“I let him see a little more… just a little,” she says softly. “He got really nervous and left before you got here. Nothing else happened, I promise.”

She doesn’t ask if I want details. She doesn’t give me any more. She just comes over, hugs me, and rests her head on my chest. I can feel her trembling.

I breathe in the scent of her hair, stare at the soaked patch on her panties, and feel like I’m going insane from jealousy and desire at the same time.

From that day on, Laura and Mr. Jackson share “a secret.”

He thinks I don’t know anything.

She thinks she’s just doing charity and a harmless little game that turns me on.

And me… I’m waiting for the recordings the blackmailer promised me, heart in my throat and cock painfully hard every time I think about what they still haven’t shown me.