Kelliirotica | Lock Down Loving

It was day 32 of the lock down and Cheryl was horny.

She’d put a bit of weight on, so walking meant that her leggings were starting to rub where once they went unnoticed. She decided to unburden herself by rolling them down to her knees but her mobility wasn’t what it was a month ago so she groaned slightly as she tried to heave herself free from the 94% cotton /Lycra™ blend.

After examining her warmest parts, she realised she needed a simple occlusive. A petroleum based product would be fine, due to its hypoallergenic properties. I know a lot of people beef about them and go on and on about it (Abi) but honestly, tell me anything else on the market that comes close! Go on... No. Didn’t think so.

Anyway,

She didn’t need a moisturiser, no sir. She had plenty of moisture thank you very much. Sir.

She took a fat dollop of Vaseline™ (or generic brand) and proceeded to warm it in her palms. As she looked up, she saw two familiar eyes watching her. The man from the house opposite. He’d gone unnoticed until the lockdown, but now she considered him almost a friend.

“Hello, Stan” She’d called him Stan because the first time she noticed him watching her, she was listening to that Eminem song. She’d been trying to work off some of her pent up physical energy. In the outside world she had a very physically demanding job, she was one of those people who uses those big drills that dig up paths. The ones that make your tits go mental when you’re using them. You don’t even need to use CGI or anything, as long as your phone can film in slow/mo which most of them can now anyway thanks to espionage (see in a different story if I remember. If I don’t, remind me. I’ll do it later) Yeah, so she had been doing lunges in her pants and when she looked up. She saw him. She pulled out the AirPods™ (or generic brand) and just went like this (Emoji of that one that’s drooling).

He was really good looking. Like if Peter Dinklidge™ was normal sized.

“Are you here for our daily routine?” She said to him but knowing he can’t hear her because he’s in the house opposite but upstairs and to the left a bit.

The hands removing the jogging bottoms that had become his prison said … well they said nothing. They’re hands, but if extremities had a little personality of their own, independent of the main user of the limbs, they would be nodding like mad.

She started to put the warm grease on her inner thighs. She locked eyes with “Stan” and so began the routine.

If this was a movie, they’d probably do it so it looked like they were looking at each other, but when you move the camera back you can tell they’re miles apart and it’s a bit of a surprise. Yeah?

So they’re face to face in your head, but in real life they’re metres apart. Simply separated by two panes of glass, and Covid–19™.

It was like that pop video from the noughties where everyone was doing exercises like the film from the 80s, but fatter and slower.

They grapevined for literally 3 minutes. Cheryl was so glad she had used a good quality lubricant otherwise her inner thighs would be red raw. They then went on to box step, then double box step with a clap, onto double grapevine twist, semi pocket box step, forward and back steps, diamond step, cross diamond, lunges. Her body was on fire and glistening with sweat. It trickled down her back. She removed the Winnie The Pooh T shirt exposing her Road Runner tattoo on her shoulder. She glanced at Stan who was mashing his semi erect penis against the glass.

Cheryl smiled. She slowly removed the grey cotton bra without breaking eye contact with Stan. As the cool air hit her nips the went massive and you could hang a wet Parker on them. She pushed her massive tits against the window and simulated a kiss against the pane. Stan followed suit. They both squashed against the glass, kissing and smearing it with grease, sweat and lick.

Cheryl put her hand down her Thundercats knickers and found that bit that women like the best and went at it like a thing possessed. I mean really just went daft on it. As she reached a crescendo of pleasure, she gasped and looked at Stan. Stan’s window was covered in jizz and he’d gone.

The End.

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©2020 by Kelli! Taylor. Dictated to a nerdy little lad who fancies her but frankly is probably gay so who cares.