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From: "Henrik Larsen" <henlar@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} The Neighbour's daughter. Ch. 10 (mf rom) by Henrik Larsen
Date: Sun, 18 Nov 2001 18:10:03 -0500
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(c) Copyright Henrik Larsen 2001



Comments are very welcome. You can reach me either through assd or by e-mail 
at henlar@hotmail.com.


This story contains elements of explicit sexual nature.

If, for some reason, you feel offended by erotic stories, then I don't know 
why you have opened this one. Maybe to be offended, so you can complain 
about how awful it is that somebody writes stuff like this. If that's the 
case, my advice is to seek professional help. You need it. If you are not 
allowed to read stories like this, I will not be held responsible, if you 
choose to continue. But don't worry; it's all fantasy.

A great thanks to Old Rotorhead and Cagey. I'm very grateful for their 
patient work, correcting and editing my stories, and their constant 
encouragement.

Reposting or any other use of this story is strictly prohibited without the 
express, written permission of the author.


The Neighbour's daughter. Chapter 10.

The first three weeks, while Sophie was on vacation with her parents, 
weren't that bad. I missed her, of course I did, but it was nothing like the 
feeling I had when she returned. Knowing that she was so near, just on the 
other side of the wall, made it almost unbearable to be without her. I spent 
hours trying to figure out a way for us to see each other. I considered 
offering my assistance in helping her with her homework, but she was bright 
and didn't really need help. I even considered sending a couple of 
theatre-tickets to her parents, anonymously of course, to get them out of 
the house, but there were too many stories around about people doing that, 
and then robbing the victims house or flat while they were away. Sophie's 
parents would never buy it.

Every idea I came up with had a major flaw and would never work, so I gave 
up. Instead, I began to think about why Sophie's parents acted the way they 
did, and kept Sophie away from the rest of the world, generally treating her 
like she was a small child.

My first thought was that her parents were members of some religious sect. 
Back in the sixth grade, we had a boy in my class whose parents were 
Jehovah's Witnesses. He wasn't allowed to have any contact with other 
children and he dressed weirdly. He didn't say much and in the beginning he 
was bullied a lot, because he was different. It wasn't until our teacher 
told us why he was different that it stopped. I think we all felt ashamed 
and I remember that I felt really sorry for him. It didn't change much, 
though. He was still isolated and very quiet. He apparently accepted his 
fate, but he never appeared to be happy. I can't recall him laughing or 
smiling.

Sophie had never talked about anything religious. I asked Mrs Larsen and she 
was sure that they only visited a church in connection with baptism, 
marriage or death. Somehow, it didn't seem likely that religion would be the 
cause of their strange behaviour. But then what? What else could make people 
act that way?

It could be something in her parent's upbringing which they just passed on. 
That was a plausible explanation, even though every other part of their life 
was fairly normal. Both her parents dressed normally. They had a car and a 
TV; everything a normal family would have. Could it be that they were in 
touch with everything else in modern life, except how to bring up a child? I 
couldn't come up with a better explanation, but I still wasn't sure it was 
the right one.

On top of all my thoughts and worries about Sophie and our relationship, 
came Mrs Larsen's situation. She wasn't doing any better and although she 
was still mentally healthy - no signs of senility and only marginal troubles 
with her memory - she was physically very weak now, and it was difficult for 
her to move around in her flat. Her eyesight was deteriorating as well and 
she could no longer watch TV. It had never been that important for Mrs 
Larsen, she preferred reading or listening to the radio, but the fact that 
she couldn't watch the few things she liked to watch on TV reminded her of 
her age and condition.

She had a lady to do the cleaning a couple of times a week, but nothing 
else. I didn't really know if it was because she turned down any other 
offers from the council or because they didn't offer her anything. I didn't 
mind doing her shopping and cooking; I had to shop anyway - still no freezer 
- and it was better to eat with her than eat alone. She did say that she 
could hire somebody to do the shopping and cooking, but I always told her I 
didn't mind. She also offered me money, but I turned that down as well. I 
knew that she had a fair pension from her late husband, but I didn't think 
it could be very much. Besides, she always insisted on paying for the food 
and wine, so I ate a lot of free meals.

She should have used the walker or a wheelchair, but her home wasn't 
designed for it. There were small rugs everywhere, which needed to be 
removed and the doorsteps would have to go, too. The worst thing was that 
the doors were too narrow for a wheelchair to be able to get in and out. All 
in all, it would have been best for her to move, preferably to a place where 
she could be looked after. The only problem was that she refused to move. 
She wanted to die where she was born and "With a little luck, it will happen 
soon." Those were her words and she meant it. It was a difficult to 
understand for a young man like me, but I accepted it.

The weeks passed and I saw Sophie on the stairs once or twice a week. We 
said hello, politely, but generally we acted as if we hardly knew each 
other. Sophie was good at keeping up appearances, almost too good. I began 
to suspect that she didn't miss me very much. After all, she had Nina. I was 
jealous, I guess. Deep down inside, I knew she had to act as if we were just 
neighbours, but I was hoping for some sign that she missed me as much as I 
missed her.

Jealousy is an awful thing, because it just grows inside you and the more 
you try to push it aside and tell yourself that you are imagining things, 
the more you find that seems to confirm your worst fears. Little details, 
nothing that would normally bother you, but suddenly they grow into 
something close to the ultimate proof of infidelity. It's horrible. I've 
never considered myself a jealous type, but for a couple of weeks, it was 
eating me up.

Then I meet Nina in the supermarket one day. When I saw her, I was in no 
mood to talk to her, being convinced that she had "stolen" Sophie from me, 
but my good upbringing forced me to do the polite thing; to stop to talk. It 
was a wise decision.

"Hello, Nina. How're things going?" I asked.

I may have sounded less than enthusiastic, but I tried my best.

"OK," Nina answered. "Sophie misses you terribly."

She didn't sound as if everything was all right.

"She has you, hasn't she?"

"Sure," Nina shrugged, "but I'm not you and . . . We can be together and 
all, but it's not the same. She misses you."

I felt relieved. I also felt very sorry for Sophie. It wasn't until later 
that I realised why Nina was down. I guess we all had lost something, but 
I'm not sure any of us were able to see clearly enough to acknowledge more 
than our own losses.

"Tell her I miss her very much, too. I hope that we'll get a chance to be 
together soon."

"So do I. She really needs cheering up," Nina said.

- - -

Talking to Nina put a lid on my jealousy, but it didn't make me any happier. 
I knew that Sophie was feeling as low as I was, but it was hardly any 
consolation. I lay at night and wondered what would happen if I knocked on 
the wall. Would Sophie know it was me? Could we signal each other like 
isolated prisoners? I seriously considered drilling a hole in the wall. I 
didn't, because I remembered Sophie's room as very clean and even if I would 
be able to stay clear of her drawer and wardrobe, the dust would be spotted 
immediately. Another great idea down the drain.

Life dragged on for a month after Sophie had returned, before anything 
happened. It was so obvious and it had been staring me in the face all the 
time. I could have kicked myself that Saturday morning, when I finally 
realised that we would have been able to meet all the time.

I was up a little late that day and I'd just got out of the shower, when I 
heard Sophie's front door open and her parents talking. I looked out through 
the door spy to catch a glimpse of Sophie and I was lucky: she walked past 
my door just as I looked, and I saw she was carrying a heavy, open bag, full 
of books. Library books! I rushed to the bedroom to put on some clothes, 
skipped breakfast and hurried down to the library.

It took a while to locate Sophie. The library had been expanded a few years 
back. It consisted of two buildings, the old and the new. The new building 
contained the children's section, reading room and a multimedia section. The 
rest was still in the old building. I found Sophie in the old building, 
kneeling between two tall shelves. She didn't notice me until knelt down 
next to her.

"Eric!"

It sounded so loud in the silence of the library and scared her a little.

"Eric," she repeated, this time whispering. "What are you . . . How did you 
. . .Oh, I've missed you so much."

She threw her arms around my neck and hugged me really tight. We were still 
kneeling and I could feel my balance slip. It's incredible how many terrible 
thoughts that are able to pass through your head in a fraction of a second. 
As we fell towards the shelves, I imagined how they would fall like 
dominoes. It didn't happen, of course. Sophie seemed completely oblivious to 
our position and squeezed me tightly for a long time.

When she finally let go and looked at me, there were tears in her eyes. She 
tried to speak but nothing came out. We got up, only to embrace each other 
again. I didn't know what to say, or perhaps I was afraid that my voice 
would fail me, too. It took a couple of minutes, before we were ready to 
talk.

"You don't know how much I've missed you," I finally said.

"Not as much as I have missed you," Sophie said, laughing through her tears.

We didn't have time to argue about it. An elderly man passed our row and 
looked disapprovingly at us. We held back for a few seconds after he had 
passed, before we started laughing as quietly as possible.

It was so wonderful to talk again. We almost forgot the time and place and 
it was sheer luck the Sophie took a look at her watch just in time for her 
to get out in front of the library, before her parents came to pick her up. 
We hastily agreed to meet in the library next Saturday.

Just talking was fine, and I realised that being close and talking was what 
I'd missed the most. It wasn't until Sunday that I began thinking about a 
way to meet with Sophie in a place where we could be more intimate, but it 
still wasn't an urgent need for me.

The following Saturdays, I went to the library early and waited for Sophie 
to arrive. In trying to work out a way for us to meet privately, I reasoned 
that we would normally have an hour and a half before Sophie's parents 
picked her up again. Walking back to my place took around twenty minutes, 
twenty more to get back. We would have to leave at least ten minutes slack 
to be sure to make it in time and Sophie would need some time to get books 
at the library. With a little luck, we would have half an hour and there was 
still the risk that Sophie's parents would go home first and unload some of 
the things they had bought, seeing us on the way. It was simply not worth 
running the risk.

We stayed in the most deserted part of the old building and we were able to 
kiss and touch a little, but always at the risk of being disturbed. In the 
beginning we were very cautious, only kissing and discretely touching each 
other through out clothes, but after a couple of weeks, we became more 
daring.

We had found a shielded spot where they had put in a couple of extra 
shelves, creating something best described as a labyrinth. We would be able 
to hear if anyone was coming, but in the worst case only a few seconds in 
advance. Still, it was better than an open row and we could do a little 
more.

The fourth Saturday, we both wore loose clothing. Once we were inside the 
labyrinth, we embraced and our hands began to explore each other while we 
talked, but after a few minutes we could no longer concentrate on even the 
simplest conversation. After fifteen minutes, we realised that it was a very 
bad idea, but it was already too late to stop. We got more and more worked 
up and after half an hour, we were almost ready to rip our clothes off and 
make love on the floor.

I was standing behind Sophie with one hand under her shirt. Her bra had been 
pushed up and I caressed her breasts and nipples. My other hand was inside 
her skirt and panties. Sophie was breathing hard and her pussy was sopping 
wet. She had one hand behind her, reaching down into my loose trousers and 
jocks, slowly caressing my cock.

Sophie tried to spread her legs more, to give me better access, but the 
result was that her panties tightened and made it difficult for me to move 
my hands and fingers.

"Sophie, take off your panties," I whispered into her ear.

She didn't hesitate, but eagerly bent down and took them off. Sophie was 
beyond herself with excitement and forgot all about me and my cock, which 
was actually a relief for me at that point, because I was worried that I'd 
make a big, wet spot in my trousers. That fear distracted me to a point 
where I no longer could enjoy Sophie's reactions to my touches.

Sophie began to whimper louder and I had to hush her. The spot we had chosen 
was secluded but only protected against prying eyes; it wasn't soundproof. 
It was hard for her to keep quiet and when I hushed her the third time, she 
took her panties, which had been holding in her hand, and stuffed them into 
her mouth.

I'm sure Sophie would have given us away if she hadn't gagged herself. The 
muffled whimpers and cries were loud enough even with the gag. It was risky 
but there was no turning back. Sophie was getting very close to coming and I 
was so much into it that I simply didn't want to stop. I don't know if I'd 
have heard anyone approaching us. I was just so caught up in Sophie's 
excitement, caressing her tits and pussy.

She came like fireworks: A big explosion that cascaded into several smaller 
explosions. I know that an orgasm only last perhaps twenty seconds, but we 
were in a completely silent library, and it felt like it lasted for several 
minutes. I was sure everybody could hear what was going on. Sophie's body 
trembled and jerked in my arms and she bit down hard into her panties, 
trying to be as silent as possible. Finally, she collapsed and leaned back 
against me, very relaxed and completely confident that I could hold her up. 
Her legs were like jelly and I had to hold her weight for at least a minute, 
before she began to regain some of her strength.

Apparently nobody heard us. We stood and listened in the silence for a 
minute, but we were alone.

"Oh God, Eric. That was so wonderful," Sophie whispered. "I really want to 
feel you inside me."

"So would I, but it's too risky and I haven't got any condoms," I whispered 
back.

Sophie was working her warm, smooth hands into my jocks again and smiled up 
at me.

"I want you to make you come, too," she said.

"You better not. I don't want to go home with a big wet spot."

"Hmmm, there's a way," Sophie said.

She smiled wickedly and pulled her hands out and began to open my fly. I was 
torn between my urge to feel her warm, wet mouth around my cock and the fear 
of being caught with my cock out. It would be pretty hard to get it back in, 
once it was out. Two voices hollered in my head, but the voice that told me 
I needed release, won. I didn't have it in me to stop Sophie.

Her warm hands snaked in through my open fly and coaxed my cock out. It 
wasn't easy and again I thought about how difficult it would be to hide it 
away quickly, but I still didn't have the strength to stop her. When her 
lips pushed down, pushing the foreskin away from the head, I forgot 
everything around me. It had been over two months since I'd felt anything 
but my own hands and I was in heaven.

Sophie didn't tease me. She worked fast and was determined to make me come 
as quickly as possible. At least it felt that way. It felt wonderful. I put 
my hands on her head, primarily to steady myself. I was very, very aroused 
already and it only took her a couple of minutes to bring me way over the 
top. As a sheer reflex, I pressed her head against my crotch as I came. She 
had her hand wrapped around my shaft, so I didn't choke her; I just came and 
came and came. If I had pumped as much cum into her mouth as it felt like I 
did, she would have drowned, but she swallowed it all without any problems.

We had taken a great risk, doing what we did in a public library. With the 
pressure gone, I saw things more clearly. I was just about to say that this 
would have to be the only time we did it in the library, when Sophie broke 
the silence.

"This was so great. We can do this every Saturday."

She looked so happy and I didn't want to disappoint her. After all, maybe it 
was just me, worrying too much. And it had been wonderful.



To be continued.


You can find more stories written by me at:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/henlar/www/
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/henlar





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