Sunday Quickie: Interrupted

It was a Thursday afternoon, sunny out, warm enough to be pleasant and cool enough to be autumn. I’d just gotten home from my Advanced Russian Lit class at the university. Quick bite of ramen soup and cherry soda while checking email, and then I was done for the day. Time to play.

My apartment in those days was small. The kind of place a giant sized hamster would feel cramped in, but tidy and clean and it was all my own. The single room had a queen sized bed, a floor lamp, and a small kitchenette. I had enough space to cram a desk for my laptop and another table to sit the TV on. No cable. I streamed and watched DVDs while sitting upright in bed. Suited me just fine.

Living alone had it perks. And the neighbors were quiet, most of them late night freaks themselves. Except Carla, the sweet brunette next door, who was in my lit class that semester.

I closed the blinds on my one window, took off my t-shirt and flopped into bed. I started up the movie, and while the opening ads for sex toys and 800 numbers that charged three bucks a minute were playing, I took off my shorts.

The opening scene of the porno began in an apartment, but a nice one with a view and shiny kitchen and leather sofas. In the movie, the man sat down to watch some TV, and got interrupted by his neighbor, a cute blond with perky boobs. I never understood what she wanted, since she only had two lines, but the sex was hot. And that scene always got me thinking about Carla. But the real neighbor had big, bouncy boobs, the kind that seem impossible to hold upright.

I had a boner, and slowly stroking it, with Carla’s sweet face in my mind’s eye. Already only a few minutes in, and I had a salty drop running down my shaft. This load was going to blow before I wanted it to.

And then there was a knock on my door. I fumbled for the remote control and yelled for the visitor to wait a minute. The porn stopped, I put my shorts back on and answered the door. I was a sweaty mess, panting, and had no shirt on. Whoever it was, would just have to deal with it.

I opened the door. It was Carla.

She had her breasts squashed up into a tight fitting and low-cut exercise tank top, and wore yoga pants and flip-flops. Her eyes went wide and her mouth dropped open when she saw me half-naked. I hadn’t intended to be so forthcoming, but it was too late now. I leaned against the doorframe and said hello.

“John,” she said. “Were you at lit class today? Good. May I borrow your notes? Pretty please?”

I’m sucker for a polite woman, especially when she had melons the size of literal melons. Maybe she was slacking off today, who am I to hold that against her? So I gave her notes. Then she hugged me, squeezing her breasts against my stomach, and promised to return in half an hour. She ran off back down the hall, with my notebook in hand.

That was the longest thirty minutes of my life, waiting for her. I dared not turn my porn movie back on, for fear I’d make a mess I couldn’t clean up in time before she returned. But I couldn’t do anything else. The brush with her boobs pressed against me, the expression of surprise on her face, the way she thanked me profusely for saving her fine ass. My boner wouldn’t die. I couldn’t sit, watch TV, eat, study, anything.

I thought about a quick fap in the bathroom. But if I kept my shirt off, maybe Carla might want to stay. Long shot, but I’d been dreaming of bedding her for a long damn time.

The knock came right on time. I opened the door, still half naked, and she was in the same clothes. I asked if she wanted to come in. To my surprise, she accepted. Now what? Not like I could give a grand tour of my one room apartment.

Carla handed me the notebook back. When I took it, something square and blue fell out. When I bent over to pick it up, I discovered it was a condom. I glanced up at Carla—or rather, at her massive breasts—and nothing else needed to be said.

I shut the door behind her and slammed her back against it. She tugged at my waistband, pulling me in closer. And then I kissed her. I was dangerously close to blowing my load in my shorts, with breasts against me and her arms wrapped around my shoulders. It was almost too much to resist.

Couldn’t resist one thing for long—I pulled at her tank top, almost tearing the fabric apart, and popped her breasts out over the top. The twins stuck out, held up by her bra and shirt and pointing right at me. I licked one, then the other. I could barely wrap my hand around one to squeeze. By the time Carla got my short unzipped and on the floor, it hardly mattered if I wanted to play her boobs. She was jerking my cock, wanting to play with me.

I shoved her to the bed, surprised at how rough and confident I was being. In a flash, the yoga pants were off, and to my dismay she wore no panties. I didn’t express my disappointment, instead I planted my face between her legs and ate out.

Right when she seemed ready to pop, I ripped open the condom package and slipped the rubber on. My fingers shook, but I had no problems.

I entered her, like in all my wildest late night dreams. I held up her legs, her ankles over my shoulders, and grinded my hips. Soft moans from her turned into screams for more. I gave it to her.

Hard. Fast enough to make her titties bounce and shake, up and down and sideways. Carla twisted her nipples. She begged for it. Her whimpers turned me into a sex hungry animal. I wanted to make those big breasts bounce all night. I didn’t even want to change positions. She had a nice ass, but damn. Carla was better than any porn star I’d ever watched, and I had an impressive library.

I had to look away. I couldn’t think of Paris, though.

My balls and shaft were so sore they hurt. I pulled out and whipped the condom off with a snap.

Three strokes later, I blew a thick, white load all over her tank top and breasts. A thick, creamy coating that never seemed to stop pouring out of me. I’d never come so hard for anybody, or even for myself.

After I was expended, I fell on top of her and we made out for a few minutes.

Carla pushed at my shoulders. “I should study,” she said.

“Why?” I said. “I want to study you.”

After some sweet pleading, she convinced me to let her go.

But not without a promise of more. We spent the rest of college banging the hell out of one another. Now Carla’s my wife. Times have changed, so have our bodies, but I still fuck her like that horny college kid I was once. And she still interrupts me when I’m working on something or watching a movie. I don’t mind one bit.


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Author: D. Anthony Brown

Indie writer and publisher. Among other jack-of-all-trade skills...

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