Chapter 1

This stretch of time suited Henry perfectly.

Stuck at home with little to do, Elena’s thoughts had nowhere to go except the things that filled her days. And so the image of her neighbor’s thick cock kept drifting through her mind from morning to night.

She was still a woman. Facing a man’s sex so often was bound to stir something. Especially when it was that long and heavy. Trying not to think about it was almost impossible. And when she did think about it, bolder, even shameless ideas sometimes followed, the kind that made her scold herself in private.

Elena was in the kitchen cooking dinner. She wore a T-shirt and soft shorts. The shorts were not extreme, but they still showed the clean line of her thighs and the full, round shape of her ass.

Henry walked in completely naked, his cock already standing out hard in front of him. Lately he had taken to moving around her apartment like this. The first few times, she told him to put something on. He refused, saying it was more convenient. With the restrictions still in place, no one else was coming over. In the end, she simply looked the other way.

He came up right beside her. His cock brushed against her thigh, warm and solid.

Elena glanced back with a faint frown.

“Really? Again?”

Henry only smiled. She said nothing more. One hand reached out, closed around the spoiled little guy, and began to stroke him lightly while the other kept stirring the pan.

Cooking often needed both hands. After a short while, she stopped.

“Go sit down for a bit. I’m almost finished.”

Henry made a show of disappointment as he moved away, but not before dragging his cock along her thigh a couple more times.

When the food was finally ready, he was still waiting on the chair. Elena sat beside him and flicked the head of his cock with one finger.

“I made the little guy wait.”

Henry shifted closer at once, pressing his leg against hers. Both of them were in shorts, so the smooth heat of her thigh came through clearly. She did not pull away. Her hand closed around him again and began a slow, steady stroke. After only a short time, she stopped and flexed her fingers.

“Maybe after we eat. My hand is tired.”

She had just finished stir-frying a full pan of vegetables and had cleaned half the apartment before that.