The Neighbor Next Door - Cassandra Dee Page 0,1

losing my virginity before going to college, but it’s not that simple. Because I want to hold out for someone special. Someone who really gets my juices flowing hopefully. Vivian’s different because I was born right after she graduated high school, and I think she has some regrets having me so early. As a result, she wants me to do things a little differently, like live it up while I’m single.

But the thing is that my mom and I are just fundamentally different. It’s not like I’m not interested in sex. But so far, none of the acne-ridden boys in my high school have inspired me to lust. What I need is a man. Someone big and strong, with rippling muscles and a deep voice, someone who’d know what to do with my body, someone who’d take me. Someone who was seriously hung with a huge, thick cock. Someone like the men in the romance novels I like to read.

But who am I kidding? Those novels are fantasies. Men like that don’t exist. And even if they did, they’d never be interested in curvy, nerdy, Janie Martin.

Although there is that guy who just moved next door. I think his name is Trent - his mail was sticking out of his mailbox one time and I secretly stole a glance at the address. I bet he’s hung, all right. He’s very mysterious and I’ve only seen him a couple of times, but on those occasions I felt as if the lust I’d only experienced reading my romance novels had been manifested in the flesh. Vivian and I had been unloading some grocery bags from the car and there he was, working on his car in the driveway. His shirt was off, showing off an incredibly muscled upper body covered in tattoos. His black hair was combed back, glinting in the sunlight, one strand falling over his brow as he tinkered with the engine. Vivian had practically dropped the brown paper bags, tripping over herself to go and say hi. I’d died of course. This was my mom, after all.

But since that day, I haven't seen him since. Trent’s the hottest guy I’ve ever seen and if I'm honest with myself, I have to admit I’m incredibly turned on by him.

But back to the problem at hand.

“At least try it on for me,” wheedles Vivian, and I’m aware I haven’t been listening to a word she’s been saying. Not that she’s noticed.

“What would be the point, Mom?” I say, finishing off the second baking tray and placing it in the oven. The warm waft of sugariness of the first tray blasts me full in the face, making my mouth water. “The point would be for me to at least be able to see it on you! Just once! Even if you’re too ungrateful to actually wear it out,” she retorts. I roll my eyes.

“Fine,” I say, and untying my apron I stalk to my room, snatching the dress from Vivian’s hand.

Impatiently, I unzip my jeans and throw them on the floor and yank my T-shirt over my head. Standing in front of my full-length mirror, I stand looking at myself in underwear. Uck, I’m all folds and jiggles. I pull a face and hastily drag the black, silky material over my head and chest and down to my legs - where it ends, much to my disdain - high up on my thighs.

Great, I think. Thanks for nothing, Mom. But then I glance up at the mirror and I have to admit, the dress is flattering.

My arms may be soft but my shoulders are small and so is my waist, two facts that are highlighted by this particular cut. My huge tits aren’t crushed by the material, as is the case with most dresses I’ve tried, but are liberated by the incredibly low neckline and are pushed up and together. The material clings to my soft belly rolls and wide hips in a way that doesn’t make me look like beached whale, but rather a diva. And turning around to admire my large ass, I’m pleasantly surprised by the way the material ends just under by butt cheeks for a flattering fit.

Yes, the dress is slutty - but I find myself wondering what that guy Trent would say if he saw me in this. What would a man like that do? I can’t help it as a shiver runs through my frame … because I desperately want to find out.

2

Janie

“And?” comes Vivian’s

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