It's just the neighbor

You're reassured, it's just Mr Solomon, the bachelor 40-years old neighbor. A long-time single, womanizer, he's brought more than one girl or Pleasureboy into his house along the years to clutch at his dark skin and scream his name. He's seen you in worse clothing than that since you graduated, your almost permanent nudism doesn't seem to bother him and he's actually a rather funny, educated, well-mannered, and overall charming bloke. He's waving gently and pointing at a bottle of wine he brought: "Hey there! I though I would invite myself for a little impromptu aperitif, what do you say?". He's all smiles and you naturally let him in. He kisses you gently on both cheek and can't refrain from commenting "My dear you are more dashing by the day. The gentlemen will soon be chasing you all around if you keep on like that!". You giggle at his jokes and ask him to make himself comfortable as you go fetch something to cover yourself, leaving the room with a lustful sway of your hips. You've always liked to tease Mr Solomon.

Your bedroom is a mess as usual but you manage to find a red silk kimono to cover yourself. It hugs your silhouette perfectly and shows just enough skin to make you look both decent and sexy. You love looking your best when he's here. As you return to the room he has made himself at home indeed, put on some music and poured two generous glasses of wine for each of you. You pick up yours with a giggle and start teasing the poor man again: "So, Mr Solomon, you couldn't get your eyes away from my hips for more than a day? I noticed you didn't take any pictures of me this morning." The man chuckles: "I can't refrain from thinking you are doing your morning workout just in the view from my window on purpose, my dear. But I may be mistaken and perhaps you just happen to be on your hands and knees practicing I don't know which sort of meditation just as I wake up every day." Both of you giggle as the flirting that goes between you continues for a while. You've always known Mr Solomon was only looking forward to an occasion to bed you and be your first, and you've always kind of felt it would be natural for him to be, but you want to be reaped at the proper time.

You get closer to him as the wine disappears and your flirt goes on, and he casually puts a hand on your shoulder, rubbing it gently through the slippery silk. He does smell good, manly, and his proximity is slightly intoxicating. You want him to plunge his hands in your hair, to make you arch your back, and whimper... Without knowing if it is the wine or him, you're entirely at his mercy, ready to melt of desire on a single word, when he tells you "Actually my dear I was thinking to invite you on a dinner-party tonight, maybe in my house? It would be the occasion for you to wear these dresses and nanomods I know you've had delivered..."