Veronica's Erotica

Tasty Taboo & Raunchy Romance

The official website of Veronica Sloan, writer of dirty books. If you enjoy steamy stories, explicit affairs, and taboo tales, she's probably got something for you.

My Nasty Futanari Neighbor!

Here's a short but steamy futa tale about a horny girl and the futa who loves her. I'd like to continue this story in the future. In the meantime, you can enjoy learning how they met and how they can't keep their hands off each other! If you liked Deflowered by My Futa Doctor and Suddenly Futanari, you'll enjoy this naughty romance.

This erotic futa tale is 12,000 words and $2.99. From now until September, you can buy it on Smashwords for 25% off!

SUMMARY: Abby hates her punk neighbor. She hates her piercings and her tattoos and her short blue hair. She hates the way she walks and the freewheeling way she lives her life. Most of all, she hates the way she smiles at her in the halls. It's like Leticia knows what Abby's thinking, like she can feel what Abby feels every time she brings home a new girlfriend. Abby's certainly not jealous of the sexy, smirking, blue-haired weirdo... Abby wishes she could just ignore her nasty futa neighbor. Unfortunately, she's still the best lay Abby's ever had!

EXCERPT:

Sometimes she left her door open when I returned to my apartment--as a signal to my nervous libido that relief was on call. From inside I'd hear her awful punk music or the clang of pots and pans and know her stupid smirk was just out of sight. Usually I hurried up the stairs to my apartment. But then there were days when she didn't play games. She'd wait in the doorway leaning against the threshold like an imperious cat, arms crossed, eyes too big for her mouth, mouth too soft to ignore. Those were the days I ended up inside her apartment. Those were the days Leticia had her way with me.

I hated her. The kisses were soft at first but soon came the teeth. She'd bite my lip and make me moan to the ceiling, above which resided my own barren apartment. How many girls had I heard her seduce while trying to cook or sleep or read in peace? And so I wondered, not for the first time, was I angry because I was just like them or because I was just like her?

Maybe I was angry because she tried to make me feel special. This time, when she pulled me inside, she stuck her nose under my jaw and inhaled the perfume off my skin. "I missed you," she murmured, and licked the hollow of my throat. She didn't smell like me. She smelled like sweat and acrylic paint. She smelled like weed and the essential oils she used to cover it up. She smelled like raw lust and fabric softener. 

When her pale fingers slid up my belly, I told her to stop. She spun me around to face the wall. "Stop now?" she asked, and flattened me against it. Her greedy fingers pushed up my bra. "Stop now?" she teased, and grabbed my breasts. "Stop now?" she taunted, and bit my ear. 

"No," I whimpered. 

"Why are you here?"

I hated her. I hated that she asked me every time. 

Most of all, I hated giving in. It was weakness, plain and simple. I didn't understand what she was, or why she constantly did this to me, or why she insisted on teasing me, but nobody touched me like she did. Nobody wanted me with such overwhelming desire. I could feel it in the way she buried her nose in my hair, the way her fingers clawed possessively at my skin. "Not so hard," I whined. 

"Afraid your boyfriend will find out you've been diddled by your neighbor?"

I spun around, my eyes crackling like lightning. I tried to invoke thunder with my voice. "He's not my boyfriend!" I said. "And you're not going to--to 'diddle' me!"

She was on me in an instant, pushing me towards the open door--God, the door was still open--her little lips nibbling at my cheek. "No?" she whispered. "Didn't you come here to be fucked like the naughty kitten you are?"

"Don't call me kitten," I whined. 

"Grumpy kitten," she teased, and spun her fingertip round my bellybutton. "There's the door. You know your way out."

She was such a bitch. She left me standing in the open doorway, my bra tangled in my shirt, my hair already a mess. My mail was on the floor. I'd chosen to come inside, chosen this despicable sin, and still she made me choose again. "I'm leaving," I huffed.

She sat back on her bed and crossed her ridiculous stockings. Crooked bands of black and white spiraled down to her blue toenails. They poked through the ragged holes in the bottom. Frayed shorts of hideous burgundy. A black t-shirt for some band I'd never heard of, the collar loose enough to show the world she didn't care for bras. She wasn't busty but her nipples were obscenely noticeable. That blue hair, short but long on top, blue undercut above her ear. Stupid silver nose piercing. Stupid tattoos on her forearms. She didn't look like girls are supposed to look. She teased me for being pretty.  

No, she liked that I was pretty. I knew that. She liked the way I smelled and liked pulling my clothes off and making me wriggle on her bed like a stuck worm on her insidious hook. It was the hook I was after, not her. Leticia wasn't completely a woman, not under those awful shorts... "If you're leaving you should shut the door," she said. She spun her foot in the air. Rather than meet her eyes, I watched the blue toenails glint in the waning afternoon light.

"Just once I wish you'd let me hate myself without playing mind games," I grumbled. 

With that, Leticia slipped off her squeaky mattress. She swayed her hips as she crossed to me and gently pushed her palm into the door. It closed with a snap. She never took her eyes off me. "Maybe I want you to think a little more about why you're here," she said. "And why you keep showing up here."

"I don't want to think when I'm in here," I said. 

"Oh, kitten," she sighed. She curled her knuckle underneath my chin. "I know."

"Don't call me kitten," I snapped. 

She grabbed my hair and kissed me like they do in movies. Hated her. Loved her. Grabbed my hair so tight it burned my scalp. I moaned into her mouth and her tongue stole my breath away. "Just do it," I whispered.

She pushed me over her bed so roughly that the wind exploded from my lungs. She slapped my ass even harder, and slapped it again, and again. I shrieked like I'd been stung by bees and wheezed when she ripped my pants down. Another slap on my bare ass that rippled up my thigh and back. I felt her little lips on my buttocks, then her sharp teeth in my skin. I clawed her musty comforter as her acid tongue slithered into my crack. 

Once again, my smells were paramount. She'd smelled my skin and hair and now she wanted the sweaty shame between my thighs. Her nose plunged into my damp panties and inhaled the fetid musk of my arousal. Then her tongue, lapping like a dog. Her thumbs quickly peeled the cotton from my skin. 

I wished she'd locked the door when she closed it. Anyone could walk in and see me like this. My jeans were bound tight between my shins, my soiled panties tangled around my knees, and Letty's blue nails were embedded in my ass. I'm sure the whole building could hear me moan, something I rarely did when Jeff stayed the night. I was quiet with him. It was easier. Leticia pumped my volume up. Her tongue controlled the knob. Whenever I tried to wiggle out from under her grip she just held me down. She slobbered up my crack like a thirsty bitch and melted down the frustrations of my day.

"Are you ready?" she whispered into my slit.

She didn't need me to tell her. I tried to moan my assent, tried to lose myself in the moist bliss she'd licked between my legs, but she wouldn't let me escape my sin. She slapped my ass and asked me again, so I had to answer. "Yes!" I grunted.