The Pornstar Next Door

Summer in the suburbs is a special kind of hell. It’s all burned lawns, the chemical stink of pools and some neighbor’s weed whacker screaming at sunrise. For me, it was worse: both parents worked full time, leaving me to orbit the house like a low-grade asteroid, gym-tan-jerk repeat, nothing to do but scroll and stroke. College was waiting in the fall, and I was waiting for the fall. In the meantime, my only constants were the gym, doom scrolling and Ava Velvet.

Don’t judge me, but if you typed Ava Velvet blowjob compilation into PornSearch, I could probably recite the time stamps from memory. She was the undisputed queen: curvy, confident, busty and thirty-nine and stacked like a Sunday sundae. She always looked like she’d just rolled out of bed, mascara smudged, hair loose in these perfect, thick waves, tank tops stretched tight over D-cups, and lips painted the red of a warning sign. She didn’t just suck dick; she performed it, letting her eyes flutter back like it was a religious experience, showing off spit ropes, humming around the shaft until the guy came too soon, which only made her giggle.

I watched her every morning. Sometimes twice before breakfast. I loved the little things: the way she’d laugh and talk to the camera like she knew you, how she’d taunt her fans with, “Is this how you want it, baby?” And then go deeper, all the way to the base, like she was proving a point. Ava Velvet was like a personal trainer for my cock.

So when the moving truck showed up next door, I was jerking off in my room, headphones on and sweat sticking my balls to my thighs. Mom was gone for a ten-hour shift at the hospital. Dad was on a business trip, which meant I could spank it loud enough to rattle the headboard if I wanted. The video was an old favorite, Ava on her knees in front of some generic pornstar guy, tongue out, rolling the head of his cock on her lips before taking it down with a slurp. She moaned, wet and needy. My hand sped up.

That’s when the doorbell rang.

I yanked up my gym shorts, wiped myself off on the inside, and crept down the stairs, hoping it was a package and not some Jehovah’s Witness.

Through the frosted glass, I could see a silhouette: a woman, taller than my mom, hourglass in profile and brown hair loose. I almost opened the door, but stopped cold. The shape was familiar, but that was impossible, right? I mean, what are the odds?

I peered through the side window, not believing it until she turned and smiled right at me. I recognized that mouth instantly: plump, pillowy and painted red. The eyes behind her sunglasses were emerald green, big and hungry. The kind of face you could recognize even if it was half-hidden behind a twelve-inch cock.

It was her. Ava Velvet … my new neighbor?

She waved. I unlocked the door and tried to play it cool. “Hey, can I help you?”

She looked me up and down, one eyebrow raised, smirk already in place. She was wearing yoga shorts, tight, black, the seam disappearing between her cheeks, camel toe visible and a neon pink tank that barely hid a blue bra. “Hi, honey. Sorry to barge in. I think a package for me got delivered here?” Her voice sounded the same as in the videos, sultry but playful, like she was always a half-sentence away from making you hard.

I faked a casual yawn, even though I was still half-chubbed. “Uh, let me check.” I couldn’t remember anything being delivered, but my parents might have accidentally brought in a package. Indeed, there was a box in the foyer. “Oh yeah, sorry about that.”

“It happens, we all make mistakes,” she said with a wink.

I handed it over, but she didn’t take it right away. “Cute shirt,” she said, eyes flicking to the dark spot where pre-cum had bled through my shorts. “You live here?”

I nodded. “Yeah, just me and my parents.”

She looked amused by that. “I’m Ava, just moved in next door. I’m sure we’ll see a lot of each other.” She took the box and let her fingers graze my arm, then winked and walked away with an extra swing in her hips, like she knew I was watching, which I was.

I closed the door and tried to breathe. My hands were shaking. My idol, the literal goddess of my wettest dreams, had moved in next door.

For the rest of the day, I didn’t do shit. I kept peeking through the blinds, waiting for another sighting, but her house was quiet. I didn’t even see her car. At night, I tried to go back to my usual routine, but when I pulled up her page, all I could think about was that wink and the smell of her perfume, musky and sweet, and the way she’d looked right at my crotch. I jerked off three times, and every time, I imagined her moaning through my window.

*****

The next morning, I saw movement in her upstairs window. It was the spare bedroom, the one facing my own. There was a tripod set up near the glass, and a ring light, just like the ones she used in her solo videos. I nearly came in my shorts just looking at it.

She appeared wearing a white silk robe, hair loose and wild. She leaned into the camera, adjusted something and then dropped the robe. Underneath: black lingerie, the kind with see-through lace and garter straps. She pulled out a big pink dildo, posed and then spread her legs and started sliding it between her thighs. I couldn’t see everything, but I could see enough.

I sat down at my desk, palming my cock through my gym shorts, afraid to even move the blinds. I felt like a pervert, but couldn’t stop. She bounced on the toy, moaning loud enough that I almost heard it through the window. She kept glancing at my house, at my window, and every time, I ducked, even though I was sure she couldn’t see me.

This became my new summer routine. Every morning, I’d watch her set up, strip, fuck herself silly and then disappear for a shower. Sometimes she’d sunbathe in the backyard, topless, legs open and reading a book like it was nothing. I’d time my jerk sessions to hers, syncing up with her rhythm, trying to cum at the exact moment she did.

One afternoon, I caught her looking right at me. She was lying on her bed, camera pointed down, toy buzzing between her legs. Her lips were parted, eyes glassy, and then, dead center, she locked eyes with my window. She didn’t stop. She started going faster, grinding against her palm, her moans getting louder. I panicked and tried to back away, but I was already too close.

She laughed. Then, eyes locked, she mouthed, “come here.” And blew a kiss.

I nearly exploded.

For the rest of the day, I couldn’t get her out of my head. Every time I walked past my window, I half-expected to see her waiting, maybe beckoning me over with a finger.

But she didn’t, well at least not yet.

Instead, the next morning, I woke up to the sound of my phone buzzing: a direct message from a burner account.

Hey, neighbor. Like what you see?

My hands were sweating, but I typed back, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.

Another buzz. Don’t be shy. I film for an audience, after all.

I stared at the screen, feeling every inch the idiot and every inch hard. What do you want me to do?

She sent back a video, a slow pan of her in red lace, spreading her pussy with two fingers, the ring light making her look almost angelic. Stroke for me, now.

My eyes widened. What a hot ass woman. I didn’t even hesitate. I unzipped and started jerking, eyes glued to my phone. She sent more: little clips, each dirtier than the last, ending with a selfie of her licking her lips, a single line of cum trailing down her chin. The last message, Bet you’d taste even better.

I came so hard I nearly blacked out.

*****

The next morning, her window was open. She was there, filming, but this time, she waved. I waved back, my cock already swelling. She crooked her finger, beckoning me. I thought I was dreaming, but no, she did crook her finger at me.

Summer break was starting to get interesting.

If you want the truth, I’d planned it out a hundred times in my head. The walk across the driveway, the knock, maybe a neighbor peeking out from behind a curtain, but when it actually happened, it was nothing like the fantasy.

First, I changed shirts three times, then ditched the shirt altogether because I’d read that girls liked a little muscle. Second, I almost chickened out, but her window lit up blue with the ring light, and my dick made the decision for me.

It was barely 10am when I left the house, gym shorts tenting in front. The air was sticky and hot, and I could smell her tangy, musky perfume from the steps. I rang the bell, and the door clicked open. She stood there in a white silk robe, hair damp and wavy, face scrubbed clean except for glossy, plump, red lips and a thick stripe of black mascara.

“Hey,” she said, and I almost died. “Come in. Hope you’re not shy.” She leaned in, the robe slipping open at the chest, showing the slope of one breast, freckled and perfect.

I tried to swallow, but my mouth was dry. “Uh, hi.”

She grinned and pulled me in by the wrist. “You don’t have to be nervous, babe. I’m the same woman you’ve been watching on your laptop.” She shut the door with her heel and padded ahead of me on bare feet, ass bouncing just a little with each step.

“You wanted me to come, right?”

“Yes, dear,” she said with a wink.

The house was half-unpacked, boxes in the hall, a big ring light set up in the living room, tripods and a fancy DSLR. She led me to the kitchen, where two teacups steamed on the counter, and motioned for me to sit.

“Want to tell me how long you’ve been my fan?” she asked, folding herself onto the counter, knees apart, robe riding high on her thighs and handing me a cup of tea.

I felt my face get hot. “Um, couple days, I guess.”

She smiled wider, sipping her tea with a little pinky flick. “Liar. I checked the logs last night. Your screen name’s all over my DMs since last year. That’s you, right? ‘SquatGod69’?”

I wanted to die. “Yeah, that’s … uh, me.”

She giggled. “Thought so. You were always so polite. Nice change from the weirdos.” She tapped her lips, then her chin. “So, are you here for tea or…?”

I took a **** gulp of my cup. It was somehow exactly how she’d taste: rich, creamy and sweet.

“I … honestly, I can’t believe this is real,” I said. “Are you, like, punking me?”

She slid off the counter, coming close, putting both hands on my chest and looking up at me. “Does this feel like a prank?” She pressed her body against mine, and I realized she was completely naked under the robe. Warmth, skin and the tickle of her hair under my chin. She smelled like sex even before anything happened.

“No.”

“Let’s go upstairs then,” she whispered, nipping my earlobe just enough to make me gasp. She took my hand and led me up, still holding her cup in the other, like we were about to have a totally normal breakfast date.

Her studio was a spare bedroom, already painted pink and mirrors on every wall. The big queen bed was unmade, white sheets tangled. She closed the door, set down her cup, and let the robe slip. I stared. In person, she was even more ****: breasts huge but natural, heavy with just the right amount of bounce, peachy nipples thick as my thumb, the curve of her waist swooping to a soft belly, hips round and flaring. Her pubic hair was trimmed in a neat little triangle. She caught my gaze and arched her back, showing off.

“Not shy anymore, are you?” she teased me. Then she came over, grabbed the hem of my shorts and yanked them down in one pull. My cock slapped up, embarrassing in how ready it was.

“God, you’re cute,” she said. “Hard before I even touched you.” She circled me, hands on her hips, looking me up and down like I was a menu item. “Show me how you stroke it, like when you watch me.”

I tried to protest, but she just waited, eyebrow cocked, daring me. I started slowly, hand around the base, pumping the way I always did. She knelt in front of me, eyes locked on my cock, and grinned.

“Good boy. Keep going.” She crawled closer, breasts swaying, and when her mouth got level with the tip, she blew a soft, cold breath over it. I moaned.

Taking over, she licked the head slowly, tongue swirling, then pulled back and watched a thread of spit connect us. “I always wondered what my biggest fan tasted like.”

She wrapped her lips around the tip, eyes flicking up to mine, and sucked, just once, all tongue and plush lips, so gentle it almost hurt. Then she started in earnest, bobbing slowly, letting my cock slide over her tongue. Her makeup smudged more with each pass, just like in her videos. I looked down, and she was staring right back up, pupils blown wide, like she was daring me to blink.

She kept both hands on my thighs, nails dragging lightly, and hummed as she sucked my cock. The vibration went all the way up my spine. When she pulled off, the whole shaft was wet and glistening, spit pooling at the base.

“You gonna cum for me?” she asked, voice low. “Or you wanna see how deep I can go first?”

My mouth was useless. “Both?”

She laughed, then opened wide and sank down, deeper than anyone ever had. Her nose pressed into my pelvis, her throat fluttered, and she held there, swallowing around me. I felt the whole world narrow to that moment, her lips, her heat and her eyes locked on mine, daring me to lose it.

She pulled off with a gasp, eyes watering and spit everywhere. “Gimme it. On my tits? Or in my mouth? I know what you like, baby.”

“In your mouth,” I whispered, not even recognizing my own voice.

She winked. “Knew it.” Then she stroked me fast, the way she did on camera, twisting her hand as she sucked the tip, tongue flicking over the slit. She moaned, the sound vibrating through my whole body. I felt it hit, a rush so big I almost blacked out. I closed my eyes, and I could hear the obscene slurping and sucking sounds and the tingling, sweet sensation that was about to spill over to one of the most intense climaxes I’d ever experienced. I opened my eyes and saw how she’d swallowed my entire cock, her throat constricting as she lightly gagged. She pulled back a little, showing off my cock covered in her warm saliva and smudged lipstick. Then she plunged me back down her throat, and I lost it. I came so hard my knees buckled. I held onto her head as I kept shooting my cum down her throat.

She swallowed every drop, pulling back and holding the tip on her tongue before licking her lips clean. “Not bad for a first date, huh?”

I collapsed on the bed. “Geez, that was intense.”

She curled up beside me, head on my shoulder, stroking my chest. “You’re not gonna tell the whole internet, are you?” she asked, lips brushing my ear.

“Who’d believe me?” I said, still dizzy.

She laughed. “Exactly. My little secret.” She flicked my nipple.

“I can’t believe you did this for me.”

“I love taking care of my fans.”

I couldn’t even think. I just nodded, yes to everything.

She kissed me, soft and sweet. “You’re adorable,” she said. “And you taste amazing. Door’s always open … Wait, what’s your name?”

We both chuckled. “My name’s Dylan.”

“My door’s always open to you, Dylan … Now, excuse me, I have work to do. But we’ll find time later, don’t worry, and try not to jerk off too much. I love a big load.”

*****

I stumbled home after, shorts sticky and mind blown. All I could think about was the feeling of her mouth, the look in her eyes, the promise of next time.

Summer break? Best summer of my life.

To be continued.

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