Unleashed: Neighbour Needs Help
Copyright© 2026 by TMax
Chapter 8: Neighbors Sometimes Surprise You
Coming of Age Sex Story: Chapter 8: Neighbors Sometimes Surprise You - Part of the Unleashed Series. Zer causes her older neighbor to have an accident, so with guilt in her heart, she vows to help her neighbor. In the process, her neighbor helps her learn new things and grow from a naive, innocent little girl into a confident young woman. Slow serial. Thirty-Six Chapters. Some chapters contain incest scenes with father, mother, and sister, Polly. Of note: this story has hardcore sex scenes, but also character development.
Caution: This Coming of Age Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/ft Fa/ft Consensual Lesbian BiSexual Heterosexual Incest Mother Sister Father Light Bond Group Sex Orgy First Masturbation Oral Sex Sex Toys Big Breasts Teacher/Student Slow
“Zerzerka, can you help me send some emails? I haven’t updated my friends for the past week.” Mrs. Reynolds asked as soon as I finished my cleaning.
“Yes, where’s your computer?” I placed the pork sandwich I had made her on the glass coffee table in front of her. We hadn’t talked about the other night, but my breath stuttered when I glanced at her cleavage and her fully lipped smile. Today, she wore a simple navy sundress, with no bra or panties, something that she could easily get on without my help. She didn’t wear any makeup, nor had she brushed her hair, and yet, she still appeared elegant with a sexual aura around her.
I wore a tight shirt, also with no bra, to better show off my large-for-my-frame breasts. My nipples tented the fabric and caused my vagina to soak my panties. I had no idea why she entranced me so much, but I woke up this morning damp from a dream about her. I wanted to wear my short black skirt, but didn’t dare wear something revealing while I cleaned. She would have seen my panties as I bent over and moved around the house. Randy had purchased it for me, and I have never worn it, but I wanted to wear it for her. Instead, I wore too-tight jeans, which I cursed each time I had to bend my legs.
“In the top drawer beside my bed,” Mrs. Reynolds said and flipped the channel on the TV to the start of our favorite silly soap opera.
I checked my makeup in the massive bedroom mirror and wiped away a bit of mascara from my cheek. I liked how the black eyeshadow and mascara made my eyes appear larger and more pronounced. Some of my dark red lipstick had rubbed off, and now my lips appeared softer, less kissable. At least the little bit of foundation still covered my pimples that I had developed on my right temple.
The top drawer beside her bed contained a massive pink dildo and a long, thin white vibrator. The dildo looked real, with veins along the shaft, but it felt like plastic. The white vibrator still worked when I tested it. Both made me groan, and I almost slipped the vibrator in my pocket to sneak home and use it, but stupid me had worn the too-tight jeans.
I found the laptop in the second drawer down and rushed back to Mrs. Reynolds, who acknowledged me with a soft grunt as she watched the soap opera. The young girl had just walked in on her father and her best friend together in her bedroom. Her friend, a black girl who didn’t look eighteen yet, sat up in the bed, with only her white lace bra and lace panties on. You could see the outline of her areola through the bra. The muscular father had the silk blanket over his hips, and an obvious erection pushed against the fabric.
“Got it. What happened?” I asked as I sat down beside Mrs. Reynolds, such that our knees touched, and opened the thin, light laptop.
“The father slept with the daughter’s best friend, but in real life, the black actress was giving the male actor a blow job when the camera flipped from the daughter’s reaction to the pair in the bed. If you look closely, you can see a wet spot above his penis and a drop of drool on the corner of her mouth,” Mrs. Reynolds said. Her chest and cleavage had turned red.
“What’s your password? Never mind,” I said as I opened the laptop and realized she hadn’t set a password. The computer desktop only had three icons on it: an email program, a camera program, and a file folder labeled ‘Videos_Pictures’.
“You really should have a password on your computer,” I said as I double-clicked the email program.
“Why? It’s just me,” Mrs. Reynolds said, and her shoulders trembled. She glanced at a photo of her family, then back at the fight between the daughter and her friend on the TV.
“Wow, you have lots of emails,” I said. We spent the next hour answering emails and updating people on her recent string of bad luck. I hadn’t realized how many people she knew, nor how many cared about her.
After the emails, I helped her eat her sandwich, then helped her back to her bed for a mid-afternoon nap. The doctors recommended that she get lots of sleep.