love thy neighbour

when they say love thy neighbour, i guess it wasn’t in the literal physical sense. but what does one do when the newly wed wife next door seems to be a tad more friendlier than she should be? she’s a small packaged mish mash of infectious laughter and dimpled sunshine smile. and, bless her perfectly formed body, a daily eye candy of smooth, fair legs in girl shorts and bikini tops under baby singlets. one word: yum. it doesn’t my help fluttering heart that she could be considered pretty, in my books, as well.

i guess she’s a flirty type, pre-marriage, and she’s still getting used to being newly wed and all. i’ve bumped into her, not literary, a few times while reaching home late. drunk her and drunk me, chatting in whispers over the chest high fencing, while her husband lies asleep at home. apparently, her hubby isn’t the party animal type, being a tech geek and she still has many more years of partying left in her from what i see. it isn’t me to say this but i really thank god for this fence that stands in our way as we stand here face to face, barely inches away from each other.

and so a few nights back, i chatted her up again as we both reached home late, at the same time, again. there she was, dressed to the nines, in a cleavage baring black deep v top, chunky belt and black shorts. abso-effin-lutely yummy. we ended our conversation and i watch her sashayed, slightly tipsy to her doorstep. she flashed me a curious grin, cocked her head and waved before she closed the door behind her. sighs. in the words of my fellow perv ‘brothers’: i know i’ll be going to hell for this but i would tap that if given the chance. no second guessing. no hesitation. hell yeah.

-starsailor: fidelity-

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