The Neighbor’s Son

His names are is Mike Migosi.

He is the NS. Yaani, neighbor’s son. Not literally though…my girlfriend and I used to crush on hot guys in the neighborhood and we had a term for them. If he lived in the vicinity and he was hot as hell then he automatically qualified to be referred to as the neighbor’s son. The term has stuck with me to date, that’s why I always find myself referring to all my hot neighbors as NS. In my head that is. Only in my head. Speaking of girlfriends, Linda Ondimu, where on earth did you disappear to? What are the slim chances that you will ever come across this article? 5%… 0.5%…0.05%. Whatever the case woman, if you ever do, please hit me up ASAP, for old times’ sake.

Where was I? Aha, Mike Migosi. (Please forgive my tendency to wander away from the topic at hand, a habit you must have gotten used to by now I presume, but still…)

Mike is my neighbor. If you are wondering where the name Migosi is from, well it is a kisii name. Not a common name I must admit. Now, the thing about kisii men –and I know I am going to get a lot of flak for this, so here comes my helmet- majority of them aren’t that tall. I’m trying to be politically correct you see, but if I were to say it as it is, the truth is most kisii men are painfully short. There, you can stone me now!

But not my mike. This guy is about 6ft2’, has this deep voice that makes my most sensitive parts throb in desire every time I hear it, and eyes that drive me over the edge. Surely it must be a crime for a man to have such beautiful eyes. Such sexy eyes should be a preserve for the ladies. Because a man with such eyes will make you do things that no woman should ever do…things that you should maybe just dream about when alone in your room at night…flicking the errrr, you know what.

Mike’s eyes make my lips quiver. And his arms…..Lord I never saw such huge “veiny” hands. The thought of those hands on my body….I tremble every time that image crosses my mind. I swear upon the Lord that this guy can’t be good for my health. Or rather, the thoughts of this guy can’t be good for my health.

See, mike is my immediate neighbor.

And,

• Height
• deep voice
• handsome as hell
• huge hands
• eligible bachelor

Mike is the original NS.

Yesterday, my mike came to ask for a charger. His had a problem…I can’t say what the problem is because I wasn’t listening. I was staring shamelessly, licking at my lips because they were suddenly dry, something I definitely cannot say about my other lips. Do not ask me where my manners are. At this point, I have none.

Focus, I kept telling myself. Focus.

There is this rule I usually have; avoid misbehaving with your neighbors at all cost. It is not good. Mostly because it usually ends up in tears and pain. Plus you know what they say about familiarity and contempt. Those two….

“Do you want to come in?” I managed a whisper. Never let a man know you are heads over heels in love lust for him, is what. So I straightened up and tried to act cool. I am sure my attempts were failing miserably. But so what? I wasn’t giving a hoot at this point and neither should you.

He flashed me that smile and came in. of course he wanted to come in. Who wouldn’t? I might have forgotten to mention that my eyes match his in beauty and….err…the ability to betray one’s lust.

He came in and brushed my double D’s and I could swear that my heart stopped beating. Did he do that on purpose? Did he? What an extremely wicked man! He deserved to be punished….for Christ’s sake he should be punished!

I quickly looked away and bent to pick the charger from the socket, turned around to find him standing right behind me. Why oh why, was he doing this to me? I swallowed hard. This was going to be difficult. I wanted to reach out and touch his chest, open his shirt and reach out for the hair I was sure lay underneath. I wanted to touch his lips…link them with mine. How would his huge hands feel on my not so small waist? How would they feel on my face, on my boobs….on other parts that I am not so keen on admitting in this forum? Is he as big as his hands? Would he make me gasp in pain at first, then due to the never ending pleasure?

I wanted to know, I wanted to know the answer to these questions so badly.

But I knew I never would. Not because I did not want to, but because I knew where this was headed. I had already seen the end playing out in my head a thousand times. It was not a pleasant end. All the endings had me in tears and him smiling away in satisfaction. Another day, another conquest.

Because I knew how it would end before it begun, the desire and lust was overrode by that information.

I sadly handed him the charger on my hand and went to open the door for him to leave. I thought I saw disbelieve and disappointment on his face, but he was a master at this and the expressions left his face before they had even registered, leaving me to wonder if I had imagined them.

I closed the door quietly behind me and leaned on it to catch some air. It must be the dry spell, I whispered to myself. It isn’t doing me any good.