Toma — without leaving home
Among the girls, no one particularly caught my eye either — either "plain Janes" or such "swans" that you simply can't get a word in edgewise…
So, I had already entered the building and started climbing the stairs to my second floor. In my bag with a collage of photos of a ship's wheel, a spyglass, as well as a chronometer and barometer (I like such old-fashioned things) were clinking a few cans of "Gösser," some sliced sausage, a piece of cheese, bunches of greens, and some other small items. Tomorrow was Saturday and I planned to "wet my whistle" in the evening.
A woman's voice coming from the third-floor landing made me startle and stop in the middle of the flight of stairs. The woman who spoke to me had appeared there completely unexpectedly and utterly silently.
-"Hello, young man!"
Her voice was melodious but with a slight huskiness. Attractive, looking about 30-32 — there are women (and men) whose age is hard to determine. Naturally, I instantly regained my composure and, smiling politely, replied:
-"Hello!" — and looked at her expectantly. What did this unfamiliar (but seemingly attractive) woman want from me?
-"I'm your neighbor, I live on the third floor, in a three-room apartment… Let's get acquainted — I understand you've settled here for a long time. My name is Tamara Petrovna…" — and she stared at me expectantly, not forgetting, however, to smile as well.
-"My name is Alexey, and you're right, I'll be here for at least five years, until I finish the institute," — I began explaining to her for some reason — after all, no one had asked me about that!
-"Very nice to meet you, Alyosha! And welcome to our friendly building!"
A strange phrase — like from an old movie… But with that, smiling again at each other in farewell, we parted ways, thank God. I turned towards my apartment, and she click-clacked her heels down — towards the building exit.
Only after entering home and tossing the bag onto the kitchen table did I start thinking: "And why wasn't she using the elevator? And how did she manage to approach so silently on the stairs — with such heels? Was she waiting on the landing? Nah, nonsense, why would she need me… I'm not even twenty-one, and she's over thirty…" Just then, a beer can rolled out of the bag and the "mystery of Tamara Petrovna" ceased to occupy me.
With the last stroke of the clock, the doorbell came to life. I stared in surprise at the corridor door — who could it be? I hadn't made any acquaintances at the institute, in this building, or even in the whole big city that I would want to invite over.
Cops? The housing office? I don't think I've caused any trouble anywhere and I don't have any utility debts… And besides, today is Saturday, a day off, you know… Unless it's some "Jehovah's Witnesses" wanting to recruit me into their sect. Well, I'll show them…
Carefully, almost on tiptoe, I crept up to the peephole, looked out, and was stunned — standing on the landing with a slight half-smile on her lightly painted lips was Tamara Petrovna! After thinking for about ten seconds about what to do, I checked myself in the hallway mirror — dressed in home clothes, but decently, washed, combed… Alright, I'll open it — she is a neighbor after all…
-"Hello, Alyosha!"
-"Hello, Tamara Petrovna!"
-"Oh, Alyosha, sorry to bother you, but I need your help… The door on my kitchen cabinet is crooked, you know — it's so inconvenient… Could you adjust it?" She smiled somehow "brightly" (how do they do that?) and turned towards the stairs, obviously not doubting for a minute that I would follow her… "Wow!" — was the only thought that flashed through my head. And I went after her — it would be awkward to offend the neighbor — we just met!
The question of why among all 36 apartments in our building there weren't any other "specialists" in repairing kitchen cabinets somehow didn't occur to me then… While climbing to the third floor, I glanced at her feet for some reason — the woman was in house slippers with some pom-poms and therefore moved completely silently on perfectly "legitimate grounds"…
In Toma's kitchen (I decided to call her that to myself), she led me to the cabinet with the crooked door. But when I looked inside, I saw that the adjusting hinge was simply neatly unscrewed from the base and folded to the side — no wonder there was a misalignment! A Phillips screwdriver and the removed screw were lying calmly right under the cabinet, on the kitchen table. I almost swore out loud — is she mocking me, she unscrewed it herself! But wisely kept it to myself. It's not hard for me to screw the door back on, and what Aunt Toma really wants from me, I might find out after the work is done…
When the hinge was "seated" back in place, I checked how straight the door was and, putting the screwdriver aside, turned around to say: "Accept the work, mistress!" and make a quick exit. I don't like awkward and unclear situations!
But the prepared words got stuck in my throat — Tamara Petrovna was standing right behind my back and… she moved her hand slightly and her terry robe seemed to accidentally open a bit… Underneath, the "auntie" wasn't wearing anything! Toma grabbed my hand with her soft, warm palm and pulled me towards her…
How we ended up in the bedroom, I recall with difficulty. The robe flew to the floor and the naked woman wrapped her arms around my neck, and her hot and still quite firm "melons" pressed tightly against my broad chest…
-"Alyoshenka, kiss 'Aunt Toma'! I want it so much!" — her request, uttered in a passionate whisper, was promptly fulfilled!
Six months of abstinence and young hormones played their fateful role… I knew how to kiss (and everything else too). There was a "sweetheart" before the army, she didn't wait, the bitch (and thank God, as I think now)… And in our army unit, there were women too; I'm not exactly a "Casanova," but I'm not ugly either. And the needs of a young body had to be satisfied somehow!
Our long "French kiss" hadn't even ended yet, and Toma was already falling onto her back on the previously (!) unmade bed, pulling me with her. My T-shirt and sweatpants instantly left my young, excited body and flew to the floor… A few seconds later, the rigidly standing member slipped deep inside the hot, wet, and tight female cave…
Toma responded sensitively to my every movement, literally writhing beneath me! Her slippery tunnel, dripping with "moisture of passion," made a faint squelching sound… Of course, on the "first round" I didn't last even three minutes — after such a break in sexual practice! I tried in vain to hold back, but my overexcited "buddy" in a few powerful thrusts poured out inside the "hospitable" slit. Holding the tender, hot body in my embrace for a few more seconds, I propped myself up on my elbow and looked questioningly at Toma — you never know, after all, we did all this without a "rubber"!
The woman was lying on her back trying to catch her breath — I'm not exactly a "featherweight"… Her eyes were half-closed, and her eyelashes seemed to be fluttering slightly. Finally, Toma opened her eyes, smiled that "bright" smile again, and, noticing the question in my eyes, said in a half-whisper:
-"Everything's fine, Alyosha! Take a tissue from under the neighboring pillow, wipe yourself and give me one…"
And after a couple of seconds of silence, she uttered with a light, cooing huskiness:
-"We're going to do it all again now, right, my boy?.."
The "boy" silently nodded and reached his hand under the pillow — for the tissue. Of course, we "did it again"… And "did it again" once more… I had already gotten somewhat accustomed to my intimacy-craving partner, and my member slid easily into the hot, moisture-dripping slit with an already distinctly audible squelching. A violent orgasm happened for Toma only on the third "take." She tightly wrapped her arms around my shoulders, pressed me forcefully against her not-so-small breasts, then let out a kind of hoarse, half-cat-like "meow" and was seized by a convulsive fit of pleasure…
I repeat, I'm not a "Casanova." I have some experience, yes, but in my opinion, it's quite modest. And, to be honest, before coming to the big city, women interested me mainly as a source of pleasure, predominantly for myself. And what would happen to the partner in the end — that's how it goes…
I've heard and read that some females sometimes fake orgasms to flatter their partner's ego. Yes, maybe that happens to some (after several years of not very happy marriage, for example). But the convulsive contractions of Toma's vagina and the hot streams spurting from it onto my "erection" didn't resemble a fake at all. Try tensing muscles in not the most convenient place at a rate of twice a second! Even a trained slit wouldn't last long, I think, and Tamara Petrovna "raged" beneath me for no less than two minutes…
Having caught her breath and wrapped in a terry towel, Toma finally went to the bathroom. She had thought of and prepared everything in advance, it flashed through my mind like lightning. Strangely, I didn't feel any indignation about her such calculating cunning…
When I also visited the bathroom and Toma and I stretched out on the wide bed — to dry off, she suddenly kissed me on the shoulder and cooed:
-"Did you like 'loving' Aunt Toma, Alyosha?"
-"You bet! But let's drop the 'aunt' and use 'you' [informal], now that we're like this, Tomochka…"
I gave her a peck on the corner of her lips (she had washed off the lipstick) and lightly squeezed her breast. Toma returned an equally affectionate peck and stroked my head:
-"Rest, my boy, you worked hard!"
And smiling slyly, she added:
-"But I hope that's not all for today…"
What can be said about "Aunt Toma"? In build, she's neither thin nor fat, but as they say, "big-boned." However, this doesn't spoil her at all — her waist is in place, and her hips are wide but of quite normal volume. Height about 175 cm, I'm 5 cm taller, quite convenient both for walking arm in arm and for "standing" and "reclining" together in different positions…
The breasts of my (already!)) Tamara Petrovna are a bit larger than a C cup (she adjusts her bras herself). If you look closely, when Toma is not aroused and just standing, you can see a barely noticeable sagging of the ripe melons. The nipples on them are medium-sized with bright pink areolas, and they harden strongly when aroused.
Toma also has a barely noticeable soft belly, but it doesn't spoil her at all either. Her face is rather pretty, fresh, with large, bright blue eyes that go well with her dark auburn hair with a copper tint. But the main highlight of Tomochka is her smile. Once, when I was still a schoolboy, I saw a reproduction of a Leonardo painting cut out from the "Ogonyok" magazine. It was the smiling "Mona Lisa." The same kind of mysterious half-smile can often be seen on Tamara Petrovna's sugary lips. Well, she also knows how to purse her elegant lips in displeasure; however, this happens very rarely.
Yes, to my surprise, after about a month of our daily inter-floor "visits" to each other, Toma gave up on secrecy and, by a strong-willed decision, settled me in her "three-room apartment." The whole building already knows "who, when, and with whom" anyway.
I rented out my "one-room apartment" to a young childless couple, they seem like decent people, and the money for our joint living won't be superfluous — it's not like I'm some gigolo or something…
After a month of living together, Toma and I gradually got used to each other, learned what each likes and dislikes, after all, we live "not by sex alone," we're normal people.
Although it's precisely in the area of sexual relations that Toma often surprises me. To begin with, she practically never refuses me sex. When we're home and alone, all I have to do is put my hand on a firm breast (no signs of sagging anymore), or stroke an equally firm buttock, and the lady obediently follows me to the nearest "landing spot."
None of the eternal female "I have a headache," "I'm tired," "let's do it tomorrow," etc., are in her vocabulary at all. Lesha wants Toma — he gets her. Well, and she gets him accordingly: I've already studied the "geography" of her body enough to reliably bring my unfailing partner to ecstasy… To my timid inquiries about the reasons for such her "sex-obedience," the lady usually "turns on the Mona Lisa" and I know it's useless to ask further.
Now, sucking my hmm… "buddy" Tamara doesn't like, says her tongue and lips get tired quickly. But, at the same time, she's completely not against me "using" her mouth, taking all the movement part of the act upon myself. In short, as vulgar people of both sexes say, I "waffle" Tomochka's mouth at any time convenient for me. I don't even need to ask for permission — take out the "buddy," bring it to the partner's face, and the elegant lips obediently open. Only one condition — not to shove the member all the way in: "You might damage the tonsils…". Toma also swallows the sperm without any objections. Some kind of mysterious woman, damn…
Yes, by the way, Tamara Petrovna works from home. She is quite well-known in certain circles as a fashion designer — she used to work as a cutter of women's clothing at the opera theater. And "opera" costumes, as everyone knows, are something else. So, dressing the female part of our city's "establishment" stylishly and fashionably is not too difficult for her. Clients visit Toma in the morning (not too early) and until about four in the afternoon — strictly by appointment! In her work, T. P. is a pedant and a fanatic. However, she mostly cuts and sews in my absence. After the institute, I go to the volleyball section, we train quite seriously, so I come home closer to five in the evening, when Toma is already preparing dinner.
In the mornings, Toma and I have breakfast… mixed with sex. Before, during, after — however it works out. She doesn't wear underwear for breakfast — a sexy robe (she sewed it herself!) on her bare body and that's it. The hem of the robe barely covers the upper third of her thigh, so if the lady bends over, a delightful view opens up…
If Toma is still preparing breakfast by the time I come out of the bathroom, then I press her belly against the edge of the table, lift the robe's hem to the needed height, and enter the hospitable slit of my beauty without haste, slowly advancing into the hot opening. She, of course, drops her culinary exercises and coquettishly gasps. And I begin to forcefully pound the gradually moistening slippery female tunnel…
Quite often, we throw ourselves into each other's arms when we are already (or still) sitting at the breakfast table. After several deep kisses, I pull the robe off her and seat my obedient partner on a specially adjusted high bar stool so that her butt slightly hangs off the edge of the seat. Toma leans her torso forward so that her butt and pussy are raised above the seat and become accessible for my visit, and I sharply drive my member into the yielding opening. The female gasping now takes on a more frightened character… However, after several strong movements,