Mandy Strays - a request from a reader
(c) 2022 by Sir Render
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A Literotica reader suggested the basis for this story and provided feedback during writing. Thank you!
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Chapter 1
The sounds of aggressive fucking were evident through the thin wall separating Bart and Mandy's bedroom from the bedroom of the attached duplex apartment. The neighbor was having sex with his girl of the week for the second time that night and from the sound of it they were both enjoying the hell out of it. Their headboard knocked against the wall in time with the guy's thrusts, the girl moaned loudly, calling out to God, Jesus and Holy Hell on a loop every few seconds, and their burly neighbor just kept repeating, "Oh yeah, oh fuck yeah!"
Mandy could scarcely believe the stamina that guy had. Every few nights he had a different slut over and they would go at it two or sometimes three times in a night. Sometimes the girl stayed the night and they would screw again first thing in the morning.
Mandy's boyfriend Bart was not so impressed. Reaching up, he pounded the palm of his hand against the wall and shouted, "Go to sleep!"
Mandy loved Bart, she did, but their sex life was... let's just say it was not what she thought it was going to be. When they met a few years earlier in high school, he seemed like a bad boy; a skinny white gangsta with piercings and tattoos and a lot of bravado, especially when making crude passes at all the pretty girls. Yet when he first approached Mandy for a date, he was curiously shy and stumbling; as if he didn't know how to talk to a girl. At the time she took it as a compliment that the loudmouthed, ink stained rebel was humbled by speaking to her.
As time went on, and especially after they moved in together after graduation, she came to realize that Bart's shyness was legit. His big ego and big talk was just that, talk. He had little in the way of actual experience with women, having probably pissed off more girls during school than ones who actually took him up on his offers to make out, and his sole ambition in life was to become a rap star. But that, too, was just talk. She honestly didn't see that he had any talent, it had just become the cool thing to do when Candy Coated Chocolate Candy made it big, and Bart would do just about anything to fit in. The small-time gigs he was getting (using his rapper name of Bar-T) were more often than not done for free and could not cover their rent, so she was chipping in for almost two-thirds of it.
Things had become so bad financially that she left her job as a waitress, where she lived mainly on small tips, and quit community college in order to take a job as a masseuse at a seedy hole-in-the-wall where the predominantly male customers gave better tips for taking her top down during a massage.
In this she was very well qualified. Not only was she tall for a woman, standing five feet seven inches--or up to five feet eleven in her favorite heels--with a voluptuous hourglass figure, shoulder length light brown hair with straight bangs above her radiant blue eyes which could grab attention from across a room, but she also had a gorgeous smile with full, luscious lips and her firm, young breasts filled a D cup. To get the bigger tips at the massage parlor, she usually started a session wearing a smaller C or B cup bra or bikini top so that her tits would overflow it and appear even bigger. Other times she wore a tank top with no bra and just let her tits jiggle freely beneath the thin, white cotton.
She did not let Bart know that she worked topless, he only knew she was a massage therapist and nothing more. If he found out, he would surely be mad. She wasn't so thrilled about it either, but it was a job which paid better than waiting tables. He was content to have her give him the occasional back rub at home, never coming into her workplace.
Her boyfriend Bart, by contrast, was a short and skinny guy, also five feet seven inches tall, with rusty red hair and dull gray eyes which were frequently hidden behind dark sunglasses whenever he went out. He had three earrings in one ear and one in the other and he had tattoos on the sides and back of his neck, tattoos on both arms, and a single tattoo--a stylized "MANDY"--on his chest above his heart which had just recently been completed.
Bart enjoyed having sex with Mandy, but it was clearly not on his top three to-do list for their relationship. They rarely made love more than once or twice a week. When they did, he was an adequate love maker, bringing her to the occasional orgasm, but it was rather bland groping and breast sucking before having missionary sex and going to sleep. Once--only once--they had sex in the shower, and on a single instance two years ago now they'd had sex in his car. That was the extent of Bart's sexual imagination. Mandy had only has sex with one other guy before him, so she was no expert on the subject, but she could at least think of other ways and places to have sex, but he wouldn't go for it.
So more often that not, Mandy would lie in bed at night listening to their neighbor screwing some random girl's brains out and would rub herself to an orgasm, imagining that it was her getting pounded and plowed. Those girls always made such a ruckus and usually climaxed multiple times--aside from the multiple times per night that they got given the rod--that Mandy fantasized about what it would be like to be one of them. After a few months working as a topless masseuse, she stopped into another shop there in the bad part of town and bought herself a couple of dildos and a massage vibrator. Now anytime Bart was not in the bedroom with her while the neighbor was having sex, Mandy would dildo herself for several minutes before lifting her knees and spreading her legs, then planting the head of that vibrator against her clitoris and bringing herself to quiet, gut-clenching orgasms.
Their neighbor's name was Drew and he was a living dream to a girl like Mandy. He stood at least six feet four inches tall and was built like a tank with rippling chest, back, arm and thigh muscles and an incredible well defined six pack abdomen. He resembled Schwarzenegger in that old Hercules movie except much taller. His dark brown hair was closely cropped, face and body nicely tanned by the sun, and his brown eyes were warm and inviting. He was always clean-shaven and could often be seen on his little back patio working out shirtless. Mandy would sometimes watch him through a slight part in the drapes; the way his sweat ran down his hairless, powerful pecs turned her on and sometimes she would soon find herself alone again in bed with that vibrator planted against her pussy.