This is a true account recording of an event I experienced as a girl during my student years in Newcastle England.
At Uni first year, like most foreign students live in Halls, but unfortunate for myself, as a late starter was boarded in a flat, the upper attic, in a house across the river in Danmark street, Gateshead.
Being a Scandinavian girl with all the typical traits associated to females of that origin, I did stand out somewhat, in a very grey looking place, habituated by equally grey looking older generation type people.
Of course this leads me to my landlord and his wife, who took an instant dislike to me, probably due to the amount of saliva dribbling from her husbands mouth, as he gave me the up-and-down look.
The top attic was cold, with two large bay windows and no curtains in the main room, which measured 3m x 3m, off the small kitchen, adjoining the smaller bedroom which housed a double bed, above which was a skylight, a wardroad and dresser and another locked door into the next adjoining house, probably for fire purposes.
I felt the dampness and dinginess from the moment I walked through the door and immediately requested a replacement into Halls the next day at Uni.
They both seemed to reside in the kitchen on the ground floor level, I guess that was where most of the heat was generated and I could hear him shouting all the time due to his wifes apparent deafness.
One of the most humiliating experiences was requesting a bath, something in Sweden is a daily function, but here was something people did once a week or longer. Hot water came at a cost so bathing was limited, but as I soon found out, cost was not an option when I requested one, as he warmed around me, it was so obvious I was a great opertunity for him to get close to a real Swedish girl.
At the top of the stairs leading up to my flat, the door had a large frosted plate glass, looking into the kitchen, there was no landing, just open the door and your on the first step down.
Like most women when first moving into new accomodation, you peer around, looking into drawers, cupboards and so on, I even pulled a chair over under the skylght and opened it up, stood tall, head and shoulders out, looking down a slate roof which dropped away at an alarming rate. Left and right of me, some 4 meters distant, were other skylights, from other bedrooms and I wondered who lived in those places.
Once my curiousity was satiated, I started to feel connected and set about making as homely as was possible.
Outside down the first flight of stairs, the landing took a sharp turn right, then right again and down to the bathroom, which soon became apparent to me as each time I decended the stairs my landlord suddenly appeared a few flights further down looking up and asking if all was right with me.
At the turn right there was a single bulb that illuminated the area, 60W dim and dull and my suggestion for somthing brighter was never fullfilled.
I mention all these things as they all had a purpose in life, not for me but for him.
Sitting one Saturday with a fresh brew of coffee in my small kitchen, looking at the frosted glass I suddenly realised that with the landing light out, I could see nothing on the other side, so with a little experimentation, I worked out that standing on as close as the third stair, you could safely peer in, distorted as it may be, and not be seen, of course the light had to be out on the landing.
That set my pulse racing, more for being a sex object than the thought of him using me, that was repugnant.
No I was a girl that enjoyed giving pleasure, always was, and would stand naked in front of a full mirror, masturbating while thinging of men looking at me and doing it.
Was this just my fertile mind, being bored and a tad horny? Either way I set about actually experimenting with this idea and deviously realised everything could be manipulated into justifying my need for some spice, after all I was convinced in my mind he wanted me and I was a habitual masturbator, a once a day girl with wandering fingers. If this was all in my head and he was inncocent, then I was guilty of starting something for my own perverse use.
Tall, slim, leggy, youthful and innocent, all aphrodisiacs to older men and all in one package, in an overly hormoned and in heat female, God my mind was made up, I was up for it, I must have started ovulating that Saturday morning, I was in Heat with a capital 'H' and my probing long finger down the front of my panties confirmed the secretion now gushing, for want of a better adverb, my pussy needed attention.
Getting down to the business in hand, had to wait, I needed something more, I needed a build-up, so off came my clothes and just admiring my nudity in the mirror was estatic. My breast are naturely small but my nipples were so hard I could have hung my coat on one. I marvelled at what you guys call your six pack, my tummy was hard and flat all the way down to my pubic bone with its sparcity of pubic hair. Shave it off, I thought, but I dont have a razor. I will go down and asked to borrow his, Wow I thought shave my cunt with his razor, well I could not come out with it like that, but the inuendo of doing it would send him through the roof I bet.
Housecoat on, door noisily opened, I started decending the stairs and on cue he appeared, looking up at my form, from the bottom of the stairs, 'Everthing all right? He inquired, 'Actually can you help me? I responded. 'Can I borrow a razor please, I need to shave' I giggled. His eyes lit up as he realized I meant between my legs, I wanted to shave my pussy and I was telling him this, openly and challengingly. He stood transfixed, not really knowing how to reply to this sexually strong Swedish girl. I suppose they do this more openly in Sweden he must have thought, along with saunas and porn and all that stuff.
He went and retreived his razor and gave me a new blade, showed me how to insert it and warned me not to nick my sensitive skin. 'Dont worry,' I said, 'I will be careful, no girl like to cut her pussy' I laughed, I said it, it was out and he just stood more transfixed than before and I turned and walked triamphantly back up the stairs. I walked into my apartment but left the door ajar, this time there was no need to close it, and with one step inside the housecoat slipped from my shoulders and I stood naked just inches from his upward peering eyes.
Of course I knew I was out of eyesight from him, but being in that position was as close as I could get and the feeling coursing through my body was nothing short of estactic.
Standing by the sink I ran the water until it warmed up. I knew the sound it made told him the door was open and looking to my left I could see the stairway down and he could see me if he chose to come up.
I was past caring, I was being driven by the feedback from my actions. He was told what I was doing, I was naked and my door was open. I lathered-up and ran the razor down my pubic bone and marveled at the smoothness each stroke left. Bending each leg by raising onto my tip-toe and turning outward I shaved down the side of my pubes, turning my body to front the opening, I looked up and there he was, mouth open, cock in hand, jacking furiously at the foot of the first flight. I stopped, walked to the door, opened it fully and raised my right leg onto the railing and slowly gyrated my hips in a fucking motion, which I was sure from his lower viewing position, he could see the full length of my vagina and my asshole, pulsating in unison to each stroke he administered.
The noise he made as he ejaculated was deafening and thankfully his deaf wife was blissfully unaware of the sexual pantomine being enacted between two people with 50 years age difference.
He stood exausted with cum dripping from his cock. I drank this vision in, turned closed my door and lock it with a loud click, walked into my bedroom and gave myself one of the best orgasms that year.
I had made a commitment that Saturday and obviously life had changed for ever. I lived there for the remainder of the first year and things happened between us, which I am sure you want to know, however should I tell it will have to be another time