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Us gher ke bajju wale Saare gher 2 maale ke the aur us ka gher sirf ground floor ka. Mera room 2nd floor pe tha aur sirf mere room ki window se Un ke gher ki roof nazer atti thi. Us gher ke ground floor ke Sare room locked the tu woo loog ziada time roof top wale room me gozaarte the. Roof pe bathroom aik corner pe tha.Wese tu me windows nahi kholta tha liken aik din mosam bohat acha tha tu me ne window kholi aur dekha ke aik larki roof pe palang pe ulti leti hoi he. Us ne white kameez aur black pajama pehna hoa tha. Kameez kafi patli thi us ka black bra saaf dikh raha tha. Us ki ass kafi bari thi. Phir me parde ke piche se dekhta raha. 15min baad wo bed se uthi…. Wo bohat khoobsurat tu nahi liken dekhne me achi thi. Kameez patli hone ke karan abb samne se bhi sab dikh raha tha us ke boobs bhi bare the. Woo phir wahan walking kerti phir thori exercise phir nahati aur phir andhera hone se pehle gher lock ker ke chalejati. Us din ke baad me roze us ko chupke chupke dekha kerta tha. Us. —– After the amazing turns of the last night with my next-door neighbor Cathy, I slept in. Flat out spent, amazed and exhausted. But I awoke to a knock on the front door… a gentle knock at first, and then louder when I didn’t answer it. Damn. I rolled to look at the click by my bed: 10:13am. Shit. I should be up… who is at the door? I blinked myself awake, pulled on a bathrobe and staggered my way to the door… the knock at the door repeating, and growing louder all the time. And then I pulled the door open to find… Cathy. A warm morning, she was in another summer dress, this one a bit tighter than the one from yesterday. Pure white, and nearly sheer, the sunlight from behind her made it seem almost transparent. The fabric was pulled tight against the swell of her pregnant form, and I could clearly see the outline of her bra under the sheer fabric. Ah… Cathy. ‘Good Morning Jim,’ she said as she pushed her way past me, walking into my apartment. And as I turned to look, right behind.
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” I head off to the kitchen with Ty feeling good about this project. All seem willing to pitch in with only token protests. Now, if all will go smoothly and we can convince our extra helpers to come back tomorrow with the lure of food, it should be pretty simple. I hope. Don’t want to jinx it though. It is, after all, too good to be true. As I walk into the kitchen I reevaluate my use of the word simple. There is nothing simple about whipping this kitchen into shape. Despite the dishes fiasco yesterday, it looks like all the dishes are already dirty. The dishwasher is overflowing with dirty cups and a few beer bottles that I am sure Jay thinks he needs to keep. The tile floor is dark gray, but since it were white last time I mopped, I am assuming that the floor is layered with dirt along with grease from the deep fryer in the corner. It and the microwave are the most popular forms of cooking in this house, and are both coated in slime and old food particles. The grease in the fryer.

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