. or at least part of me was.We keep a small bottle of massage oil on the headboard, within easy reach. I sleep on his left, but I'm right-handed, so ... little clumsily with my left hand, I retrieved the bottle, flipped the top and poured a healthy amount onto his head and shaft. Setting the bottle back, I used my left hand to spread the oil and slowly stroke him, simulating a tight pussy as best I could.In those early years, I hadn't quite gotten used to stroking him left-handed. It wasn't as. How could she have known? He never made noise while he masturbated to her. He’d never told anyone about his neighbor’s naughty sex noises. He couldn’t imagine any way in which she’d discovered his dirty little habit, but she had. He wasn’t sure what to do. Her door was six feet away from his; there was no way to avoid seeing her and moving out just to avoid her was ridiculous. He sat on the couch, the note still in his hand, and contemplated what to do, his mind unable to conjure a reasonable. More

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