Third Floor Apartment

Since I did a stint in the Peace Corps I was twenty one when I started college, not the normal age of 18 or 19. I wasn't thrilled about living in a dorm with unworldly eighteen year olds. I had enough money saved from the Peace Corps (since I didn't have much opportunity to spend it) and since my parents had saved most of the money for my college education in a 501(c), so I got an apartment in lieu of a dorm room. I lived on the third floor, "Suite 304" it was called although the term "Suite" always seemed to be pretentious to me, and certainly wasn't descriptive of my digs.

I didn't really socialize with my apartment neighbors much including because I was serious about studying electrical engineering and graduating in three years so that I didn't have to get student loans. I did say "Hi" to everyone I encountered, and if I could help with little issues -- like collecting someone's mail when they were on vacation, or feeding a cat for a few days, or helping carry some furniture in or out of the building -- I always did.

One married couple, a few doors down from me on the third floor, was John and Priscilla Williams. My perception was that they were probably in their early thirties, although I never specifically inquired. John was a normal looking dude -- a little flashier than I liked -- and Priscilla was fairly normal looking too, although with a more exotic look than John had. The first ten or twelve times that I saw Priscilla it appeared that she might have a nice body, but it was always covered up by clothes that looked frumpy or baggy to me.

While John and Priscilla actually weren't "friends" of mine I knew their names and had had short conversations with both, and each, of them on several occasions. They also knew my name, Storm Daniels (I hate my real first name so I've used "Storm" since about fourth grade and at some point will have my given name legally changed to Storm), and that I was an engineering student at the local university.

The only thing that I wasn't enjoying about life at that time is that I wasn't regularly getting laid. I had no problem getting laid while in the Peace Corps but since the engineering buildings at my university were remote from the rest of the campus, and since there were few to no even decent looking women in any of my classes, and since I had an extra course because I intended to graduate in three years instead of four, I was a little up tight.

I use my undesirable lack of female companionship for excusing what happened next.

**********

I came home from a late lab one Tuesday, about 6:45 p. m., to see Priscilla Williams pacing back and forth in front of our apartment building, swearing, with steam figuratively coming out of her ears. I approached her directly and asked "Is there a problem, Priscilla?"

"You mean besides my asshole, inconsiderate, lout of a husband?" she snarled in reply.

In an attempt to inject some levity I said "Tell me what you really think, Priscilla."

She looked stern for a second and then laughed "Sorry to unload on you Storm."

"No problem," I smiled back. Just then there was a clap of thunder and Priscilla almost jumped out of her shoes in response to it.

"It looks like it's about to rain, Priscilla; why don't you either go back to your apartment or come to mine long enough to blow off some steam; our building lobby doesn't have any place to sit."

"I'm not going back to John yet, I'm so pissed," she snarled again; "mind if I hole up in your place for a while; I won't be any bother."

"Sure, come on," I said.

I normally take the stairs but apparently Priscilla prefers the one slow, small elevator and bee-lined for it, so I rode up to the third floor with her. In the small confines of the elevator I smelled alcohol on her breath; it didn't surprise me given how wide-eyed she was.

When we got into my apartment -- it was the first time that Priscilla had actually entered it -- she said "Nice digs," but I thought that she was only being polite since my flat is sparsely furnished.

"Thanks," I said. "Say, I'm really hungry and I was planning on just making some spaghetti or linguine; want some?"

After a pause Priscilla replied "I am hungry; I didn't have lunch today; do you mind?"

Priscilla helped me get out the few ingredients for a linguine dinner; I gave her a glass of wine while she watched me prepare the meal, including heating the store-bought pasta sauce, boiling the water, and cutting-up some Italian bread. After I refilled her wine glass dinner was almost ready. We sat at my small kitchen table and had a lively discussion while we ate -- although I did notice her slurring some words -- as she poured herself a third glass of wine.

Priscilla complimented me on my culinary abilities -- I thought that kind of laughable given how simple the meal was -- and appeared very grateful for me to have included her. She did put away as much pasta and bread as I did.

Priscilla insisted on helping me clean up after dinner. That is when things went off the rails. In bringing her plate to the sink her fork fell off of it onto the floor, causing her in her less than completely sober condition to tilt her plate, resulting in the small amount of pasta sauce still on it to transfer to her T-shirt.

"Oh shit," she moaned, and then laughed, as she looked at the red stain right over her left nipple. She finished putting the fork and plate in the sink and then said "I need to get some hot water on this right away so that it doesn't stain" as she lifted her T-shirt over her head.

One problem was that she had no bra on, something I hadn't noticed before because her T-shirt was a thick one.

A second problem was that she has a really nice pair of what I estimated are C-cup tear-drop tits.

A third problem was -- in view of my long dry spell -- my cock involuntarily instantly saluted.

A fourth problem was that Priscilla stared at my crotch once my little friend made its presence known.

Priscilla -- holding out her T-shirt but still not having placed it under water -- said "Did I do that?" pointing to my crotch.

I don't know what came over me but I growled, then reached out and lightly pinched her nipples. When I realized what I had done I quickly pulled my hands away and said "I'm really sorry -- I don't know what came over me."

The word "me" had barely left my mouth when Priscilla dropped her shirt, quickly breached the distance between us, and threw her arms around my neck and feverishly kissed me on the lips as she smashed her prodigious tits into my chest.

As I moved my hands to the sides of her soft breasts I returned her kiss. The wine was evident on her breath but I made a quick determination that her alcohol consumption didn't put her past the point of consent. As I mauled her tits the only thought in my mind was "Fuck her!"

It wasn't long after we broke our kiss before I had carried her into my bedroom and had removed her slacks and panties. She was making the last moves to release my belt and jeans button and zipper.

I got a good look at Priscilla's body just before I climbed into bed with her. It was a really nice body -- probably a 9 on a 10 point scale; maybe even a 9.9 if I had a chance to study its intricacies. I immediately went after her hairless pussy with my mouth and fingers. I hadn't eaten pussy in more than six months and though hers wasn't exactly pristine it wasn't gross either. I was flattered when she had an intense orgasm within less than two minutes after my lips touched her prominent clit and two fingers were buried in her snatch.

While Priscilla was still in the throes of her orally-induced orgasm I mounted her and wasted no time in trying to entomb my cock in her pussy. Both for bad -- since I was so excited and anxious -- and good -- since it meant that she was really tight -- it took a while before my cock was completely buried. The penetration process was oh-so-awesome, however.

As I pistoned in-and-out she wrapped her thighs around my waist and I mauled her tits. As I was about to blow -- and she seemed almost ready for her second climax -- I got inspired. While I continued to fuck the best that I could I latched onto one of her exquisite nipples with my mouth and with my right middle finger rubbed her clit.

Priscilla's reaction was like the human equivalent of a nuclear bomb going off. Her pussy clamped like a vice on my cock, she screamed, convulsed, and bucked upwardly so hard that if I didn't outweigh her by more than fifty pounds she probably would have catapulted me off the bed. When I came it was with the power of a howitzer shell, causing her to scream and writhe.

We survived a good half-dozen aftershocks before I moved off of her and removed my wilting cock from her snatch. Priscilla mumbled "Holy fuck," a half dozen times, and then laid her head on my shoulder and within two minutes was snoring.

I felt great -- it was probably one of the top ten fucks of my life -- but as I lay there my stomach started growling. "Shit," I said to myself, "my stomach is stealing the blood from my cock to digest my big dinner." As my stomach grumbled some more I reluctantly got out of bed -- I really would have liked another round or two with Priscilla and her snug pussy and awesome tear drop tits -- and got dressed. I covered sleeping naked Priscilla with a sheet, closed the blinds on the main window in the bedroom, and stumbled out of the room, closing the door.

After rinsing off the dishes I put them in the dishwasher and since it was half-full before our meal, started it up. Then I rinsed the spot on Priscilla's blouse, got out a stain-stick and cleaned the spot completely. I put her T-shirt up on a hanger and hung the hanger on my living room light fixture. I put the rest of Priscilla's clothes under it.

It was hard to work on inductance, capacitance, and resonant frequency equations after my excellent fuck, but I had an assignment due the next day so I persevered. About 9:30 p. m. I finally completed my assignment, my food had finally digested, and my mind moved to the naked woman in my bed. I took a quick shower and then snuggled up to Priscilla, who was still getting some Z's.

Much to my joy, it wasn't more than two minutes of snuggling up to Priscilla in a spoon position when my cock turned into a piece of steel and sought out her moist pussy; and no more then another two minutes before she started mewing and pushing her pussy into my cock's head.

I slowly penetrated Priscilla; it seemed even more enjoyable than the first time, if possible. Once I was fully buried and Priscilla was at least in a twilight zone even if not fully awake I started slowly sawing-in-and-out while lightly massaging one of her tits. This time our orgasms didn't come quickly or with overpowering zeal; however they were extraordinarily pleasant, very long-lasting, and extremely draining. It wasn't long after I injected my last load into her pulsating pussy that I myself entered a twilight zone, and then fell into a deep sleep, my sword still buried in her scabbard at the time that I dozed off.

While at one point in the middle of the early morning I felt some disturbance, I didn't wake up until my alarm went off at about 6 a. m. I hit the "snooze" button and then looked around. Priscilla was gone -- damn I wanted to start the day off with a wake-up piece of prime ass -- however as I lay staring at the ceiling I had an inner joy. Two top ten fucks within a few hours; I did feel a little guilty for fucking another man's wife, but my contentment in getting laid for the first time in a long time overwhelmed all other feelings.

I was a happy fella as I went to my 9 a. m. Circuit Analysis Class that day, and nothing ruined my good mood. In fact my mood was enhanced when I got back my midterm grades in two courses; an A and a B+ (the B+ in a class I thought I was getting a C in).

*************

Before the next weekend I saw Priscilla and John together twice and engaged them in short pleasant conversations both times. Priscilla looked a little squirrely when we talked, but not enough to be noticed by John. The way I viewed Priscilla had changed dramatically, however. Knowing the treasures that were located behind her frumpy clothes caused my dick to twitch and a sense of well-being and pride to permeate my being.

Saturday morning while I was just finishing breakfast there was a knock on my door. I opened it to see a wide-eyed Priscilla standing there, dressed in her normally drab garb covering up her consummate body.

"Hi Priscilla," I smiled.

"Hi Storm," she replied, "can I come in to talk for a second -- if I'm not disturbing you?"

"Sure," I responded, moving out of the way for her to come in and closing the door after she did. "Have a seat," I smiled, pointing to my decent couch, about the only piece of furniture in my living room.

Priscilla looked nervous, holding her hands together on her lap, and blushing. "What's up?" I asked, hoping that she didn't see my eyes burning a hole in her T-shirt trying to reconstruct in my memory her awesome tear-drop tits.

"I'm really nervous..." she started out. "I have to just say it. I hope that you don't think that I'm a skank because I let you fuck me..." she blurted out.

Actually, I thought that we both were interested in fucking each other, but I wasn't about to disturb her train of thought.

"I'm not like that. I don't cheat on John; I hope that you realize that it can't happen again," she continued, sticking out her lower lip.

I think that I surprised her when I moved off the couch, got down on a knee, grabbed and kissed her hand, and with a smile said "If I don't live another day I can die happy, knowing that I had a sexual experience for the ages with a woman as sultry as a Greek Goddess. While of course I would love it to happen again if it doesn't I can still relive the memories. To answer your implied question, I don't think of you as a skank, but rather as a goddess in human disguise only to be worshipped from afar." Then I kissed her hand again and sat back on the couch.

Priscilla had the most unique look on her face that I have ever seen before in my life. I think that it was a combination of surprise, bewilderment, and I hoped lust. After a long pause she moaned more than said "Thanks for being so understanding."

"The secrets of our joy Tuesday night, and how spectacular your body is despite how ordinary it looks in your normal clothes, are safe with me," I smiled in reply.

Her eyes got wide then she got up and without another word started to leave my apartment. At the door she turned toward me and said "Oh, I almost forgot. I told John I was coming to see you to ask for you to help him move some furniture around. Could you help?"

"Sure," I replied. "Right now?"

"Yes, if you don't mind, Storm."

I walked with her to her apartment, shook John's hand, and helped him move the main couch, the TV set and the piece of furniture that it was on (I don't know what it was called -- maybe a credenza?), a couple of lamps, and a couple of chairs. Priscilla looked on, only offering a few comments about exactly where she wanted stuff. When I said my goodbyes, with John's back turned, I winked at Priscilla; she turned beet red.

Fortunately for me, Priscilla's "talk" with me was only wishful thinking on her part. Every time that she got mad at John for some reason -- and they had more than their share of loud fights -- she would seek me out, making sure that I didn't have "company" before she asked if she could come in and "talk." Every time it was clear that she had had a few drinks before she knocked on my door, and she never refused the wine that I offered her -- and kept in supply just for such occasions.

Since our first two fucks were in the top ten of my life I expected the intensity and enjoyment level to go down a little as time progressed. However, after six fights with John over a 16 month period, and our subsequent sex sessions, my passion and satisfaction levels went up, not down. After those 16 months my sessions with Priscilla occupied nine of the ten top sexual experiences of my life (the only one of the top ten not with Priscilla was my first when Beatrice, a forty year old buxom femme fatale who was a friend of my mother's took my virginity the weekend after I turned 18; in my mind I started to believe that Priscilla looked like a younger version of Beatrice).

Since I was having so much fun and satisfaction with Priscilla I daydreamed about ways to precipitate fights between her and John -- but never actually tried any.

Humorously, after every sexual encounter with Priscilla a few days after it she would come to my apartment, embarrassed, and tell me that we could never be intimate again. Each time I pretended that I took her seriously and flattered her just like I had the first time, and agreed that we probably should stop but with the parting phrase "You're too spectacular a woman for me," which I hoped would cause her to come back.

I don't really think that guilt was the primary motivator, but during this 16 month period I happened to do a lot of good deeds for John -- for which he was very grateful -- including diagnosing an electrical problem with his car and writing out what he needed to tell the dealer to make sure that it was repaired under warranty.

************

At about the 16th month anniversary of my first session with Priscilla several unrelated things happened at about the same time that changed the dynamic.

The first thing that happened was that I had applied for and got a grant that not only paid for the rest of my schooling until I graduated but also money to live on while doing research at the same time that I was going to school. The research counted toward my graduation requirements but was less time consuming than the classes that it replaced so in addition to having a lot more disposable income I had more time.

The second thing that happened -- just a week after my grant came through -- was that John got a promotion (his previous job was low-level white collar but the new one was medium-level). The new job required him to be gone ten straight days for training.

The third thing that happened was that Priscilla won a contest where a makeover was the first prize. While she won it before John left for his training seminar she didn't use it until the day after.

It was obvious that Priscilla had made up an excuse to come over to my apartment because she wanted to show-off her makeover; she had made some oatmeal raisin cookies, my favorite, the Friday night after she had gotten her makeover. The makeover not only included a new hair style and makeup, and a whole body massage, but two new outfits -- ones that not only didn't hide her physical assets like her normal clothing did, but enhanced them.

When I answered her knock on my door I almost didn't recognize her. I think that I stood there like an idiot, with my mouth open and drool leaking out, and my eyes popping out of my skull. Priscilla loved my reaction. She finally snapped me out of it by pushing the plate of cookies in her hands at me and asking "Can I come in or do I bring my cookies back home and eat them myself."

I let her in. we had a conversation, most of which I don't remember, but I know that I complemented her new look at least a dozen times, including how she now looked ten years younger, before my willpower broke. As she sat on one of my kitchen chairs, with her long sleek legs crossed, her feet covered with four inch patent leather heels, and provocatively biting on a cookie and sipping a glass of wine, I abruptly stood up and pulled her out of her chair.

"You're the sexiest looking woman I've ever seen in my life," I growled as I planted a passionate kiss on her lips. She returned the kiss for a few seconds but then pushed me away.