Y’all, I was such a naughty neighbor back when I lived in that rusted-out two-story heap of an apartment complex. Now, I ain’t exactly a tiny thing, and that old balcony of mine used to shake like a leaf every time I stepped out there with a cigarette in my hand. I’d just lean back, let my fat ass settle into the railing, and lose myself in the smoke.
One afternoon, I accidentally nudged my overflowing ashtray right off the edge. It landed smack-dab on the head of the maintenance man, poor Jim, who was fixing the AC unit right underneath me. He looked like he’d been dusted in grey flour. I didn’t even blink; I just took another drag.
Jim had finally had enough. He stormed up those creaky stairs and practically kicked my door open.
“What in the blue blazes is wrong with you, woman!” Jim screamed, his face redder than a slapped cheek. “I am sick to death of you raining ash on me like it’s a winter storm!”
I was just in the middle of peeling my shirt off because the humidity was thick enough to chew. I stopped, draped the fabric over my shoulder, and looked at him with a little smirk. I knew I was being a naughty neighbor, but I sure did love the view.
“Now, Jim, don’t you get your knickers in a twist,” I purred.
He started to yell again, but his voice just trailed off into a wheeze. He stopped dead in the doorway, his eyes locking onto my big tits. I hadn’t put a bra on, and they were swinging free, heavy and pale. I decided to have some fun. I started moving slow, sliding my pants down over my hips, letting my fat rolls spill over the waistband like rising dough.
“God almighty,” he gasped, his gaze glued to the way my skin shook.
I gave him a little shimmy, watching his eyes widen. Jim didn’t even try to leave. He reached down and ripped his zipper open, pulling out a cock that looked like it was about to burst. I leaned back against the wall, touching my body and playing with my boobs; and watched him start to stroke himself.
The sound of him jerking off was like music to my ears. He was breathing like a freight train, his eyes glazed over as he watched my tits jiggle. He started pumping faster, his hand making a squelching noise with the pre-cum coating his shaft. He groaned, a deep, guttural sound, and suddenly his back arched. A thick rope of white cum shot out, splashing across his own belly and a bit of the floor. He stood there shaking, panting hard, completely spent.
I just giggled and slowly pulled different clothes on. I felt like a real naughty neighbor, playing with him like a cat with a mouse.
“You look like you’re in a daze, honey,” I said, patting his cheek.
“I… I can’t…” he stammered.
“Go on now, Jim. You need to go clean up. You’re still covered in ashes,” I laughed, shutting the door on him.
I reckon that was the last time he complained about my smoking habits. Being a naughty neighbor sure has its perks.