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POUNDING THE SEXY NEIGHBOR

Jesse Flynn

Copyright 2018 by Jesse Flynn

AE PUBLICATIONS

    Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of these authors.

DISCLAIMER: These stories are intended for a mature audience only! Contains explicit, graphic sex and language, including rough and aggressive sex, dirty talk, anal sex, alpha males, bdsm, femdom, and more. Not intended for individuals under the age of 18 or those with a weak constitution. All characters are over 18 years old.

 

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

POUNDING THE SEXY NEIGHBOR

ALSO BY JESSE FLYNN


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POUNDING THE SEXY NEIGHBOR

 

It was almost 8PM on February 14th when there was a knock on Henry Smith’s door. He was on his couch, eating pizza and watching BOOGIE NIGHTS, just as he had every year for the last five years on Valentine’s Day.

He wasn’t expecting anyone; Henry rarely had visitors and they never came over unannounced. He just wasn’t that kind of kind guy and neither were any of his friends.

He wondered who it was. A neighbor, maybe, looking to borrow some eggs? Or someone with the wrong condo? Either way he wasn’t real interested in answering the door. He’d rather just stay here on the couch and pretend like he wasn’t home.

Then the knocking started again, more insistently this time, like the person on the other side of the door knew he was home. After another moment of hesitation Henry decided to be civil and see who was there. He paused the movie, climbed up off the couch and headed over to the door.

He opened it without bothering to look through the peephole, and standing there, much to his surprise (which he was careful to keep off his face) was Jenny Stevenson. She was dressed in a sleeveless white tee shirt that covered her legs nearly down to her knees. But not even the loose-fitting clothes could mask her rocking body; she could make painter’s overalls look good. And the lack of a bra didn’t hurt her cause either. Her long black hair was mussed and she was wearing very little makeup, both of which suited her just fine.

“Hey there,” she said.

“What’s up?” Henry said, playing it cool despite the butterflies in his stomach. They hadn’t done more than briefly exchange pleasantries since their crazy New Year’s Eve and he’d convinced himself that it had been just a one-night stand, never to be repeated again. Now he wasn’t so sure. But he didn’t want to jump to any conclusions and he certainly didn’t allow his hopes to get too high.

“Not much,” Jenny replied. “I was just hanging out by myself tonight and figured you would be too, you know, based on your aversion to holidays.”

“Well, you guessed right.”

“So . . . are you going to invite me in?”

“Sure,” he said. “Come on in.”

Henry held the door open and Jenny walked past him. He watched her as he closed the door, slightly saddened to see that her ass was covered up by the T-shirt. At least her shapely legs were a nice consolation prize. She sat down on the lounge chair and folded her legs beneath her, revealing nothing but panties beneath her T-shirt.

“You want something to drink?” he asked. “A beer? Some wine?”

“No thanks,” she said. “I want to see how things go when we’re sober.”

Before Henry had a chance to contemplate the meaning of this, Jenny had moved on.

 “Boogie Nights, huh?” she said, glancing towards the television. “Are you a P.T. Anderson fan?”

“Yeah.”

“Me too. You ever see There Will Be Blood?”

“Only ten times,” Henry said as he sat down on the couch across from her. “It’s one of my 2 favorite movies of all-time.”

“And the other one?”

“No Country For Old Men.”

“Ahh, the Coen Brothers. Good stuff, good stuff. I had no idea you had such good taste in movies. I should have known, though. You have good taste in everything.”

Henry laughed softly. “Like you’d know.”

“I know you have good taste in music,” Jenny said.

“How do you know that?”

“You were listening to The Mars Volta on New Year’s Eve.”

“You remember that?”

She tilted her head and flashed him a little smirk. “I remember everything about that night.”

“Everything?”

“Everything,” she said, raising her eyebrows a couple of times.

Henry wasn’t sure what to make of this but he supposed it was a good thing. After all, if she had remembered everything and was coming back for more, that certainly couldn’t be bad.

“But, back to your tastes,” she said. “We’ve got movies and music out the way—two of the most important ones, the way I see it—but it doesn’t stop there. I can see you have good taste in pizza. Round Table is my favorite. You have good taste in beer. Blue Moon on New Years. And wine too; I can see Silver Oak in your kitchen. And you certainly have good taste in women.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Henry said, laughing softly. “I’ve had some pretty shitty relationships in the past.”

“I’m not talking about your past relationships. I’m talking about your present one.”

“With who?”

“Who do you think?” Jenny said.

“You?”


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