The days after that sink repair blurred into a haze of secret longing. Mr. Callaghan, though I still thought of him as the forbidden neighbor—had awakened something insatiable in me. My quiet apartment felt emptier, my smutty fantasies sharper, always circling back to his tongue, his hands worshipping my body without crossing my lines. No face kisses, no fucking—just endless devotion that left me trembling and soaked. I touched myself at night, replaying his growls, the way he'd devoured me until I came undone. But it wasn't enough. I craved more.
A knock shattered the quiet one evening, just as I'd stepped out of the shower. Steam still clung to my skin, the vanilla body wash lingering in a sweet, heady scent that made me feel soft and exposed. I'd slipped into my favorite baby doll — sheer navy blue fabric that skimmed my thick thighs and barely contained my heavy breasts, the lace edges teasing my nipples. No panties, no bra; why bother when alone? My dark hair hung damp down my back, and I padded barefoot to the door, heart thudding with a shy curiosity.
Peeking through the peephole, I saw him, his broad frame filling the hallway, that slight bald spot catching the light. My pulse raced. I cracked the door, voice a whisper. "Hi?"
"Mia," he said, my name rolling off his tongue like a caress. His eyes dipped, taking in the thin straps of my nightie, the way it clung to my curves. "Got a problem with my phone. Won't charge right. Mind if I borrow yours to call the carrier? Mine's dead."
I nodded too quickly, cheeks heating as I stepped aside. "Sure... come in." My words barely carried, but he smiled—that knowing, hungry curve—and entered, his presence filling the small living room. The couch sat invitingly against the wall, and he dropped onto it without hesitation, legs spread wide in his jeans and polo shirt.
I hovered, twisting my fingers, then perched on the edge beside him, thighs pressed together under the short hem. The vanilla scent wafted between us, and I caught him inhaling deeply, his gaze lingering on my bare legs.
Before I could reach for my phone on the coffee table, his arm snaked around my waist, yanking me effortlessly onto his lap. I gasped, straddling his thick thigh, my bare pussy brushing the rough denim. His hands settled on my ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh through the thin fabric, kneading as he pulled me closer.
"uncle~" I started, but he shushed me with a low chuckle, one hand sliding up my back while the other squeezed my cheek, spreading me slightly.
"Just talking, sweetheart," he murmured, voice gravelly. "Tell me about your day while I figure this out." But his fingers dipped lower, tracing the crease where my ass met thigh, then slipping under the hem. He paused, realizing the emptiness. "Fuck, nothing under here? This little nightie's all you've got covering that juicy ass?"
Heat flooded my face, a deep blush burning from my neck to my ears. I ducked my head, silent, but my body arched into his touch, pussy clenching at the slutty words. He laughed softly, rubbing circles over my bare skin now, thumb grazing my puckered hole teasingly.
"Knew you were a naughty one under that shy shell," he continued, free hand roaming up to cup my breast through the lace. His palm engulfed it, thumb flicking the hardening nipple. "These tits... goddamn, Mia, they're begging for it."
I bit my lip, a soft whimper escaping as he pinched, rolling the peak until it ached. My hips shifted involuntarily, grinding my slick folds against his thigh. Wetness seeped out, soaking through his jeans in a dark patch. He noticed immediately, groaning low.
"Already dripping for me? Look at that—your hot little pussy's marking my pants like a claim. Such a wet slut, getting soaked just from a rub. Bet you think about my mouth all day, don't you?"
His words ignited me, shame twisting into filthy thrill. I nodded faintly, breaths coming short. He tugged me up then, standing me between his spread legs, eyes devouring me from my flushed face down to my toes. Rough hands gathered the baby doll's hem, pulling it up slowly, inch by inch, exposing my thick thighs, then the smooth mound of my pussy, glistening with arousal.
"Spread a bit," he commanded softly, and I did, thighs parting just enough. His gaze locked there, hungry. "Jesus, look at this pretty cunt. All bare and shiny, lips puffy for attention."
Before I could hide, he yanked the frock over my head, leaving me stark naked in the lamplight. My heavy breasts bounced free, nipples tight peaks; my belly soft, thighs quivering. I stood frozen, arms half-raised to cover, but he caught my wrists, holding them down.
"Don't you dare hide. Stand there and let uncle see you sweetie—every thick inch, every curve made for worshipping."
Fresh wetness trickled down my inner thigh, pussy throbbing under his stare. He leaned forward, lips brushing my hipbone, then trailing kisses downward—hot, open-mouthed presses along my mound, avoiding my face as always. "Sit back on my lap, naked like this. Good girl."
I obeyed, perching bare on his clothed thighs, skin prickling at the contrast. His mouth roamed freely now—sucking my collarbone, nipping the swell of my breast, tongue laving my nipple until I arched. Kisses peppered my ribs, my soft belly, hands stroking my sides, thumbs circling my hips.
"So fucking soft," he murmured against my skin. "Taste like vanilla sin. Gonna mark you up, sweetie—make you mine without a single thrust."
Gently, he eased me back onto the couch, the cushions dipping under my weight. My legs fell open, but he gripped my thick thighs, splitting them wider, knees hooked over his arms. Exposed completely, my pussy bloomed for him—lips parted, clit swollen, entrance clenching on nothing.
"Holy shit," he breathed, eyes dark. "This sloppy little hole, all pink and ready. Dripping like a faucet, begging for my tongue. You love showing off, don't you? Shy on the outside, but this cunt's a greedy whore."
His nasty praise made me squirm, arousal flooding out. Fingers traced my outer lips first, gentle strokes parting me, dipping into the slickness without penetrating. "Feel that? So wet, coating my fingers. Gonna rub this clit till you beg, then eat you raw."
He lowered his head, breath hot against my folds, then dragged his tongue flat from my ass to my clit in one long, slow lick. I moaned—loud, unrestrained—back arching off the couch. His mouth latched on, lips sucking my clit with wet pops, tongue flicking the sensitive nub while his fingers rubbed my entrance in circles, teasing the rim.
"Mmm, taste that sweet pussy juice," he growled between laps. "Moan louder, sweetie—let me hear how much you need this."
I did, cries spilling as he devoured me—tongue thrusting inside, fucking my hole shallowly, then swirling back to suck my clit hard. My hands fisted his hair, hips bucking up to chase the pressure. He pinned me down, eating relentlessly, nose bumping my clit as his tongue plunged deep.
Wetness gushed, soaking his chin, the couch. He pulled back briefly to spit on my pussy, rubbing it in with his thumb on my clit, then dove back, French kissing my folds like a lover—lips smacking, tongue curling inside.
"Gonna finger this tight cunt now," he rasped, sliding one thick digit in slow, knuckle-deep, curling to hit that spot while his mouth shifted upward. He sucked my breast into his wet mouth, teeth grazing the nipple as his finger pumped lazily.
"Fuck, these tits bounce so good while I finger-fuck you," he said around a mouthful, popping off to lick the underside. "suck 'em while your pussy squeezes my finger like a vice. Such a messy girl, creaming all over me."
The dual assault shattered me—his finger stroking my walls, mouth devouring my breast, free hand kneading the other. Pleasure coiled tight, and I came hard, walls fluttering around his digit, juices squirting onto his palm. He didn't stop, adding a second finger, scissoring gently while sucking harder, drawing out the orgasm until I sobbed with overstimulation.
As I trembled, he trailed kisses down again, latching onto my belly. His teeth grazed the soft flesh, sucking a deep hickey right above my mound—a purple bloom marking his territory. "There," he murmured, admiring it. "My little brand. You're a wreck, Mia—pussy wrecked, tits red from my mouth, all messy and spent."
He stood finally, wiping his mouth with tissue from the table, eyes raking over my sprawled, naked form—legs splayed, pussy glistening and puffy, hickeys dotting my skin. I lay boneless, breaths ragged, a puddle of my arousal beneath me.
"Clean yourself up, sweetie," he said with a wink, adjusting the bulge in his jeans. "But I'll be back soon—with some toys to really worship this body. No fucking, just more of this." He leaned down, pressing a final kiss to my thigh, then left, door clicking shut.
Alone, I touched the hickey on my tummy, a shy smile breaking through. Our secret burned brighter, filthier, and I couldn't wait for more.