He considered the climb to be part of his workout program.As he neared his door, he could smell the delicious odor of someone's cooking permeating the hallway. He glanced around the dark-paneled walls of the hallway, the brass-trimmed lighting attacking the soft shadows in the corners, and wondered which lucky tenant was eating so well that night. Robby's mouth watered and jealousy colored his mood.He was feeling cranky when he reached for the lock. His mood changed quickly when the door glided open on its own when he tried to insert his key. Fear doused his choler like a bucket of ice water, then he recalled his determination to speak to the super about just that very thing. With his mood soured once again, he pushed through the door only to run face-first into the wonderful smells of a home-cooked meal. He was sure he detected beef stroganoff, extra creamy; and was that asparagus?He experienced a moment of dismay thinking his mother had showed up unannounced to offer up a large. The most innocent remark, the most casual contact with Lucy, would be enough to get our hearts pounding. To this day, I can't remember how many times we screwed each other over the next week or so, but it was enough to make Becky walk like a cowboy by the time we'd finished.Gradually, though, the memory of our incestuous fantasy began to fade. I had no idea what Becky's comment about "big plans" had meant, but a part of me was glad that we had descended no further into that dark, forbidden world. Instead, we satisfied ourselves with spying through the peephole, usually with Becky on her knees, her lips massaging my tumescent prick as I watched Lucy change her clothes. Okay, it's not exactly The Waltons, but at least we were limiting ourselves to a little harmless voyeurism.On a bright, cloudless Saturday, a little more than two weeks after the incident with Lucy's underwear, Becky took our daughter to the mall to buy some clothes, a strange females-only practice involving something.
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