Page 1 of Shared By My Neighbors

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Tanya

Smoothing lotion into my décolletage, I inhale heady notes of fragrance. The scent is a mixture of gardenia and sandalwood, reminiscent of faraway lands and seductive ladies. My skin feels soft and silky, and staring at my reflection, I fluff my hair out with satisfaction. The blonde strands wave beautifully over my shoulders, and I smile while giving a little shimmy of my hips.

After all, I’m clad in nothing but the thinnest gossamer robe. It’s made of a filmy silver fabric that I imagine Salome must have worn when she performed theDance of the Seven Veils. Instead of concealing my curves, the fabric hints at the lushness beneath: my big breasts that sway gently, and my narrow waist and wide hips. The dark vee between my legs is also visible, and I giggle again. There will be time for that later.

Carefully, I place a diamanté crown on my head, making sure the crystals sparkle just so. Then I put on matching sparkly sandals, and fluff out my hair once again. The girl in the mirror looks innocent yet seductive, with wide blue eyes and ivory curves. She smiles a secret smile, and then blows a kiss at me.Game time.

I turn and make my way out of my bedroom, and to the front door of my apartment. Slowly, I open the front door and peer outside. It’s late, so there’s no sound, and besides, I have a floor-through apartment. That means that I have no neighbors except for the three men who live below me, and it’s Saturday night. Carl, Chris and James are gorgeous guys in their 30’s. I’m sure they’re out partying with pretty girls and lots of alcohol.

I frown for a moment. The fact is that my three neighbors are super-handsome. I don’t know how it worked out this way because according toSex and the City, the men in NYC are users, losers, and douches. They’re emotionally unavailable as they work 80 hours a week trying to become the next Master of the Universe.

But somehow, I got lucky. I moved into this building a couple years back, and it’s a small, but friendly coop. Sure, it’s a walk-up, but there are worse things in New York City. Even crazier, over the years, the existing tenants moved out, and three handsome men moved into the three apartments on the lower floors.

There’s Carl, the founder of a bikeshare start-up on the ground floor. I don’t envy him because his windows are at street level, so people walking by can literally look into his apartment. I don’t think he minds though. I’ve realized that a lot of guys don’t care if people see them naked. In fact, Carl’s got an insanely ripped bod as an avid biker himself, so he probablywantspeople to see his broad shoulders and bulging six pack.

Then on the second floor is James Stand, who works as an attorney at a law firm in Midtown. I’m not sure what exactly he does, to be honest, but I don’t care either, because seeing that guy in a suit always makes my knees go weak. He’s the literal definition of tall, dark, and handsome, and when he’s got a blazer on, well… *chef’s kiss*. Let’s just say I wouldn’t mind losing my shirt to him.

Meanwhile, directly below me is Chris Foley, a handsome chef with tousled brown hair and a mischievous smile. He too manages to work out like a fiend despite the long hours required of restaurant work, and I’ll sometimes see him lifting weights early mornings in our communal garden. It’s insane. I know that chefs have to wrestle with cast iron pots and pans that weigh a ton, but this guy looks like he could lift a horse with those bulging biceps and powerful chest. My mouth literally went dry when I saw him hoist a barrel over one shoulder last week. He was so brawny and handsome that my thighs clenched together as my insides went moist with need.

But of course, Chris, James, and Carl have ladies pouring out of their ears. I’ve seen all three of my neighbors squire about pretty young things on the reg, but none of the girls ever seems to stick. I’ll even hear moans and grunts when I pass by their apartments in the stairwell, but again, I haven’t seen the same woman show her face twice. That’s how handsome and popular these men are. They have so much mojo that they’re able to get fresh pussy every week. Every night, even. And what guy wouldn’t want that? I’d do it too, if I were them.

Nonetheless, I have my secrets as well, and my secret ritual is one of them. With another mischievous smile, I slip out my front door and scamper to the stairwell that leads to the roof. With light steps, I ascend the stairs and then burst out onto the roof and into the night sky.

Oof, it’s a little chilly, but it’s okay. Itis3 a.m. after all. For a moment, I just stand there, savoring the sights and sounds of the city. New York is everything that I’ve always dreamed of, and I feel lucky to be here. I live in West Chelsea, which is being gentrified at light speed. However, my particular neighborhood is untouched for the time being, so around me is a sea of buildings just like my own. They’re former tenements that are capped at about six stories, so we don’t have any of the ultra-tall skyscrapers popping up all over town. This gives us privacy on the rooftop, and ensures that the streets aren’tthatclogged. It also means that I have a perfect view of the Freedom Tower south of us, as well as a small glimpse of the water to the west, and even a sliver of the Empire State building to the north. What could be better?

I breathe deep and smile, closing my eyes. The night air is sweet because we have a couple of planters on the roof, and as a result, I keep an herb garden. The scent of oregano, as well as rosemary and thyme, tempts my senses, and when I re-open my eyes again, the full moon beams down at me, its glow balmy and peaceful. A gentle breeze ruffles my hair and I close my eyes again, lifting my arms to the Heavens. This is the perfect night for a moonlight ritual, and it’s time to get started.

Humming to myself, I begin to croon a tuneless song. The melody comes from somewhere deep inside, and there are no words, really. Instead, I let my innermost self take over, and merely emote. I think about the Heavens above; the mortal world before me; and the fiery hellscape that awaits those with cruel intentions. I sing of angels, of mystical birds, of the coming apocalypse, and the benevolent nature deities that can be found all around us. Perhaps they’re masked by a concrete jungle at the moment, but they’re there. After all, these buildings are built on granite from Mother Earth, and the water that surrounds Manhattan comes from Father Ocean. Everything that we have comes from these mystical sources, and I sing my appreciation, swaying to the melody.

Meanwhile, a canopy undulates above me, glittering with stars, and I’m filled with overwhelming joy. Mother Earth and Father Ocean can hear me. So can Brother Sky and Sister Wind. In fact, I can feel the thrum of multiple spirit deities, vibrating with energy. The lemon tree in a planter nearby beckons, as does my tiny garden. Vegetables bursting from the soil shift in their beds, and with light feet, I dance over to the large wooden planter where they’re kept.

My eyes open as I gaze down at a collection of veggies. Earlier today, I pulled some out of the earth, and multiple shapes glimmer from within the wicker basket. There’s the shiny skin of a red pepper, as well as the ghostly gleam of a parsnip. Carrots are scattered about, their orange skins still encrusted with dirt, but that’s not what I’m looking for. Instead, the deep green of a cuke catches my eye, and my fingers slip over its massive form. I lift it in the air and my pupils dilate with appreciation. The cucumber in my hand is about ten inches long, and as thick as my wrist. Even better, the skin is smooth and slick, with just a few protrusions that make my mouth water.

“Mother Earth, Father Ocean, I call you!” is my hum. “Your daughter worships you!”

Only the gentle whistle of the breeze graces my ears, and I nod with appreciation. Yes. Mother Earth and Father Ocean copulated eons ago in order to form the human species, and they understand the joining of life forces. I honor them with this ritual, and with trembling fingers, I slip the robe off over my shoulders, letting the filmy fabric drop to the floor. My generous curves are milk-white in the moonlight, and I raise the cuke high above me, aiming it to the moon.

“Mother Earth, Father Ocean, I call on you to bless this ritual!” I whisper. “Now, here, at this moment! I, Tanya Smead, worship and honor your presence!”

My blonde curls are lifted slightly, and I feel a gentle breeze of benediction over my curves. This is perfect. Mother and Father hear me, and closing my eyes, I lift the cuke to my mouth to taste its green skin. Mmm. It’s slippery and smooth, and I lave it with my tongue, lubricating its thick form. Then I smooth the vegetable down my body, leaving a trail of saliva, before pointing it at my swollen pussy.

“Yes,” I cry out. “I worship you!”

With that, I slip the creature into my swollen cunt. “Umph!” a surprised grunt escapes my lips. I’m horny and turned on, but the sheer size of the vegetable surprises me nonetheless. I grit my teeth and inhale deeply through my nose, closing my eyes once more. Then, I force the vegetable in further, working it into my swollen folds. “Oooooh,” a low moan escapes my lips. “Fuck.”

After all, this thing is as thick as my wrist. I picked a big one because moonlight rituals are sacred, and deserve the best the human world can offer. But I had no idea that this monster would bethischallenging. I push the cucumber in further, twisting and squirming, and literally pant with effort as my pussy gets fucked. My labia look like thin rubber bands straining around the massive girth of the veggie, and I cry out with pleasure as I’m stretched to the utmost degree. Ooooh, this feels amazing!

“Mother!” I cry. “Father! I worship you!”

But the cuke won’t go any further. The massive green giant is only about halfway buried in my cunt, and despite some more straining and stretching, I can’t force it in any further. What should I do?

Then, inspiration strikes. Sometimes, I get really turned on when I have something in my ass, and the carrots look just about the right size. With a trembling hand, I seize one of the orange vegetables and hold it up to the moonlight. It shimmers a bit, and my asshole clenches involuntarily with need. Yes, this will do the trick.

Quickly, I spit on the carrot, lubing it up with my saliva and then direct the pointed tip at my rear end. I stir it around my anal hole, teasing myself for a bit, before beginning the insertion. A groan rips from my chest as my eyes fall closed. Most girls would do the opposite. Having something in both holes means less space, not more. But in my case, I’ve found that the heightened stimulation loosens me up, and I’m actually able to take more if I get something in both my pussy and ass.

“Ohhhh,” I moan melodiously. “Goodness.”

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