If Saturday mornings are meant for one thing, then that thing is having a long, overdue lie in. If it's meant for two things, that might include playing with the morning wood. Mine had pitched a tent in my bed sheet, firm as ever and solid enough to push through the tightest barrier.
Then I heard the sound of music playing faintly and wondered where it was coming from. It only took a couple of seconds in my still sleepy head to realise it was coming from next door, odd, since they'd moved out months ago never to be heard from again while their house went unoccupied.
The binmen's lorry clacking around hoisting up bins and pouring their contents inside grabbed my attention next. They were about a street away judging from their heavy noise, and I'd not put my bin out!
I flung the sheets off as I jumped out of bed, racing down the stairs, erection swinging around wildly, I made a mental note that the next woman I fucked I was going to try to do that to her face, it looked like it could be fun. I grabbed some clothes on, pushed my feet into my trainers, noted the letter box had some mail curled up inside it and left the house. I quickly checked that the neighbours' bins hadn't been emptied yet, then grabbed mine and headed back inside.
I didn't even bother to look at the two letters' addresses and just mindlessly opened them up. An overdue gas bill of all things. From a company I'd never heard of. Figuring it was some scam I was about to chuck it when I noticed the name and address wasn't mine. Right house number, wrong street, wrong town, wrong person! The street name was party right, but I didn't live on a Boulevard, and I'd never even heard of the town or the person.
I tore it up and binned it, whoever it was would be hearing from them again no doubt. But then there was the issue of the other letter, had that been for me? A quick look at the envelope's address said no. It was meant for next door, the postman had just messed up twice. Their music still playing away, I wondered just how long had they been gone now. And had they come back just for this letter? It was rather thick, it clearly held more than just one sheet.
Curiosity got the better of me and I pulled out the contents. They were a series of good old-fashioned photographs, just like you used to get from the chemists. But they were also. how can I put this? Artistic photographs. A young lady I sort of recognised in her birthday suit, but covered in all the best places in body paint in a variety of poses that would challenge a yoga teacher or possibly even a contortionist. Some was just regular paint, others glowed thanks to the lights and some were clearly lit by one of those CSI black light things.
There was nothing pornographic here, just nudity with the more interesting parts covered by her hands, or arms, or even her legs. Some of the paint jobs covered her entirely, others she'd had paint dripped or splashed over her, some designs made me think of zebras' stripes, if they had multi colours in their patterns. Some paint jobs were just covering her otherwise exposed nipples with different coloured hand prints, possibly her own given those shots started off with her clearly painted hands covering her own assets. 'Hand bras make the breast bras' I joked to myself. She even had a hand-printed bikini body covering either side.
There were even a couple of shots without paints that left nothing to the imagination at all. She was clearly shaved bare and it suited her quite nicely and owned the perkiest nipples that could take your eyes out if you got that close! I looked at her face again, and then the name on the envelope. Handwritten by someone not used to physically writing. The address was correctly bar the house number, but given how they'd mangled the numbers this could have gotten posted in almost any of the houses here. The name though, Ms Ash Green. It clicked into place. This WAS my next-door neighbour.
Well, that was quite the way to start a Saturday. My ragingly hard cock agreed as it tried to force its way out of my sweatpants. Ah, the perils of no underwear.
The question now was what to do with this? The music playing next door meant someone was actually home for once, and by rights this was hers. But what to do? Keep them? Own up to the mistake and pop around? Maybe get slapped for my troubles? Jerk off to them? Why had they printed them out to send them to her? This was a mystery I figured was never going to be answered since their letter made no mention of their name, just a couple of badly scrawled lines asking her to enjoy herself.
Decisions, decisions.
I eventually decided some good old-fashioned deceit was in order. I had some envelopes, and I had plenty of pens, I could just fake the handwriting and post them through her letterbox. I left the letter and photos on my dining table, with the fresh envelope, and went off for a shower, ignoring my cocks signals that it needed some serious TLC. Afterwards, I did some research online, I'd never known my neighbour's full name before, but now I did I could find her splashed around on social media quite easily. She was pretty much everywhere, Instagram with pictures that barely stayed inside their regulations, Twitter had the same sets but nothing like the paint pics, and both had links to AllMyLinks, and of course that led me down the OnlyFans route...
I could hear my bank manager moan, an odd sensation given I've never met my bank manager and have no idea what their name is, let alone their gender. But I could picture the famous phrase 'You Stupid Boy' echoing around the bank as I subscribed to my neighbour's account. And got treated to much the same sort of photograph I'd found on her social media. Some of them were shot in front of a professional-looking backdrop, with the clear benefit of professional lighting rigs, others were clearly shot in a house, again with the light rigs, but had her draped over the furniture. Something about these house shots rang a bell inside my head, but I wasn't sure why.
Bikini shots, lingerie, suggestive nudity, implied masturbation, hands inside her bra, or down her stockings and even plunged inside her panties, and very suggestive looks as she held up bananas or cucumbers. And those were just the free preview shots to tempt you to pay... nearly three figures for seven or eight pictures?
I looked at the envelope again and noticed something else that had bugged me a bit. No stamp. Then went and looked at the other wrong address letter I'd torn up and did a search online for it. That person's name got a few hits as a photographer, and his address was closer to mine than I'd have ever known. I'd certainly never heard of that town but it was about a mile away. The Google map even showed he lived in a similar-looking housing estate to me, I could have driven through there and made the mistake of thinking I was near mine.
I played detective some more, running both his and her names through the web. They were friends on all their social media, and his own website featured her in several erotic photoshoots. I was starting to feel like I'd been set up. More 'specific' search terms with her name didn't bring up anything naughty, not naughtier than she'd already done, and there were a host of 'pic sharing sites' whose forums were foaming at the mouth about trying to get her stuff for free. With rather detailed things they wanted to do to her with fifty of their closest 'friends'.
"Okay," I said out loud, pushing my keyboard away from me. "That's enough internet for today," and went out for a walk in the nearest park where I wanted to breathe in deep lungfuls of air, and sit down on the grass and run my hands through it - Maybe after taking a cold shower and scrubbing myself beforehand.
I'd barely had any chance to leave my house when I heard next door's front door open up and glanced at my neighbour standing in her doorway. She had that just-out-of-the-shower look, wet hair swept back, skin all shiny in the sunlight, and somehow managed to make the puffy white dressing gown she wore look incredibly sexy. She waived and I nodded back.
"Not seen you for a while, all good?" I called out.
"Oh I've been off touring," she smiled. "But I'm home now."
Seeing her in the flesh right now, sans makeup, she did indeed look a natural beauty, her OnlyFans stuff had her plastered with makeup, which had complimented her rather well but had seemingly made her look younger than she really was.
"Touring?"
"Yeah, with my ex," she gave an awkward smile that almost hid a conflict of emotions.
"I'm sorry to hear that, you doing okay?"
"Oh, I've been better, just need some time and space."
"Well, time heals all wounds, give it some and you'll feel better."
"Thanks, erm, say, have you got any coffee and sugar I can borrow? I've not had a chance to shop yet."
"Actually, I've got some coffee left over, bit low on supplies myself. Need to go shopping. I can give you the jar I have now if you like."