EVE
Owning a coffee shop
meant early mornings. I was used to it. Used to waking up in the dark and going
to bed when some finished their dinner. The past two days, the second my alarm
blared, I was up, wide awake and eager.
Eager like a beaver.
Or my beaver was eager.
Why?
My very attractive,
very bare neighbor.
Bare, as in bare ass.
And bare front.
The naked guy in the
house behind mine was a new morning addition. I’d never seen him before,
dressed or undressed. Or maybe the person who lived there before didn’t get up
this early. Or walked around without clothes–and no blinds–with the light on.
Or maybe it was the
leaves on the trees that usually blocked the view into that backyard which were
now gone for the winter. Or that…
Who cared? I didn’t.
All I knew was that
Michelangelo’s David had nothing on this guy. He was hung. And ripped. And made
me horny at five in the morning.
No one was horny at that time of day.
Jumping from bed, I
kept my lights off and padded over to my bedroom window, slid the curtain back
and–
YES!
Mr. Big Dick was up!
The man himself, I meant. And his Big Dick. Yes, it was impressive enough to be
capitalized.
He was on the phone,
like he had been the previous times. The first morning, I opened my curtain and
saw him. Blinked. Rubbed my eyes because… what!? A naked man?
Then I ogled. Drooled
some, too.
He was there
yesterday, too. Same thing. I kept the lights off so he didn’t know I watched.
Me and my libido
hoped he’d be back at it again this morning. And he was.
Female fist pump!
I watched as he
strolled from the hallway to the kitchen sink to the coffee maker back to the
hallway, then into the bedroom as he talked on the phone. God bless the
remodelers installing large windows on the back side of that house.
The guy was a pacer
when he took a call.
And amazingly naked.
Like toddlers who never liked to get dressed. But he was no toddler. Gah!
Did I mention he was
also blond… everywhere. What was it about the drapes and curtains matching? They
matched. Oh, they totally matched. Plus, a beard. Yum.
It was November.
Wasn’t he cold? It was hovering around freezing and it definitely didn’t
reflect in the junk hanging between his sturdy thighs. Guys–at least this
one–definitely woke up with morning wood.
I sighed, rubbed my
thighs together and wished there weren't two backyards between us. But I
couldn’t knock on the door and tell him I was a Peeping Tom and that I wanted
to check out the merchandise up close. I couldn’t drop by at five a.m. for some
sugar and tell him to keep standing by the back door so I could see his eye
color from my bedroom window. Although my eyesight wasn’t that good.
No. If this scenario
was reversed and he watched me, he’d be arrested. But there were no curtains on
those windows. Or he didn’t close the blinds. He was asking to be ogled and I owed it to women to do that ogling. Hell,
that body deserved it.
This guy was my
morning wake up secret. My fantasy where I imagined he knew exactly what to do
with a woman. He wouldn’t be gentle. Hell, no. Mr. Big Dick would be bold. A
little dominant. Alpha… yeah, he’d go all Alpha on me and ensure I didn’t walk
right for a couple days. Oh, he’d fuck me not just once, but twice–or maybe
three times–because he had the stamina to go again and again.
What did my friends
always say? Dick was better than caffeine any day. Since I owned a coffee shop
and had a shitty ex, I usually didn’t agree. But now? Salivating over my
mystery neighbor?
I was Team Morning
Dick.
All. The. Way.
