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Morning Coffee On The Balcony


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I wrote this over Christmas but I didn’t think I’d be able to post it because my computer is misbehaving. Luckily, it works to some extent, so… Merry Christmas, my dears. This is me going back to my basic fetish storytelling; female, allergy, original. :lol:


It’s early June and the sun just manages to creep around the corner and paint my balcony with a bright, sharp light around nine am. The lawn is still covered in dew, like tiny diamonds on a plate of emerald. The world is disarmingly beautiful this time of day and this time of year, and I sit down on the balcony with a cup of coffee and the morning paper. I glance at the headlines and see nothing out of the ordinary; the same old conflicts and the same old pointless hatred and desperation and accusations thrown from left to right and the other way around. Now and then someone who pleads others to stop fighting over who’s right and just be kind - only to have both sides throwing mud on him or her instead. It’s a beautiful world, but humanity is a depressingly unkind bunch. No, that’s not right. Not unkind. Suspicious. We’re so convinced everyone is out to fool us, we fight hard to be the one who fools first. And so it goes on and on. Like wasps we’re out to sting first, just in case. Bad news all around, that’s what we get in our papers.

I put the paper down without opening it. I don’t want such a perfect morning ruined. Instead I sip my coffee and lean back against the wall that has not yet taken in enough of the sunshine to be warm. I close my eyes and take a deep breath through my nose. The air is humid but still cool, and what must be thousands of scents rival each other for my attention. Raw earth, grass, flowers. A content, relaxed sigh escape me and I feel a smile sneak onto my face. Right here, in my little corner of the universe, all is well and good. A bumblebee buzzes by, busy doing a bumblebee’s business, which usually seems to be buzzing about and marvel about everything around it. Sometimes I think we’d be much better off if we were more like bumblebees than wasps. The little creature disappears into the big flower tree at the end of the lawn. I have no idea what it is, but the flowers are very purple and when they’re in full bloom - which they will be in less than a week if the weather stays this fair - their scent is so sweet it’s nearly sickening. So far though, it’s still pleasant and mixes well with the rest of the early summer’s scents.

My newest neighbour comes out on her balcony. She has only lived here for a couple of months or so, and I have only seen her from a distance. She put blinds up on both sides of her balcony, and our time schedules never seem to match to the point where we’d actually meet, at least to nod a curtsey hello to each other. She’s pretty but not too pretty. Her beauty has just enough personal integrity to escape the mainstream kind of beauty that I have always considered a little… boring.

I’m of course most familiar with her voice; these walls are paper-thin and she has a loud and clear voice. Not at all unpleasant to listen to, but it carries. I have no idea what she does for a living but I would bet a lot of money she needs to be heard; a lecturer perhaps, or a laywer or a politician. Perhaps a saleswoman of some kind.

I briefly consider shouting a “good morning” through the blinds, but that would indicate we have an obligation to interact, and God knows I could do without human interaction on this fine Sunday morning. So I merely take another sip of my coffee and glance over at the tree again. I wonder if Mister Bumblebee had a nice breakfast out of those syrup-y smelling flowers.

My neighbour sniffs a couple of times and clears her throat. My ears perk up. Those sniffs sounded somewhat itchy. Like Miss Neighbour’s nose doesn’t quite agree with everything in the air. Some people would argue that you cannot possibly tell if a sniff is itchy or not, but trust me, I can.

She sniffs again, and this time there’s an added wetness to the sound. Yes, this is itchy sniffling, definitely. Her nose is beginning to run, which only proves that her nose is irritated for one reason or the other. Hopefully irritated enough to…


Ah, here we go. I grin and nod to myself. I believe someone is about to have some allergic issues. The sneeze is followed by a squishy, annoyed sound that can only be nose-rubbing. A most itchy and runny nose, by the sound of it. And it doesn’t help either, because she sniffs, sniffs, takes a deep, quivering breath and sneezes again.

“Eh-ikGSSCH! IktSSCH! Heh-igtSSCHuh!”

Oh dear. The poor thing must have sprayed all over herself with that sneeze. And yet she doesn’t sound like her nose is nowhere near satisfied with the continuous eruptions. She sniffles again, a liquid and yet congested sound, and that alone sets her off.


Wow. That last one sounded quite painful, and as if to confirm it, she whimpers a little. The door to her apartment opens - damnit, don’t tell me she’s giving up and going inside - but she returns soon enough, blowing her nose furiously.

“Hehmpgh! HeempTSCh! Heh-mpGTSCHhuh!” Sniff, sniff… “HE-ERRSSCHHO!”

This could be the worst - or best, depending on how you saw it - allergy attack I’ve heard in years. Each sneeze is a desperate sound of agony, and in between she sniffs, moans, blows her nose and gasps with several false starts. I can only imagine how red her nostrils must be, how horribly the insides of her poor nose must itch… I bet her entire sinuses feel like she’s just been snorting white pepper.

“Oh God, please just make it stop,” she moans before exploding with another fierce, overpowering hayfever fit. It’s so violent it must be forcing her to double over at the waist. Still her nose doesn’t seem to be anywhere near finished. On the contrary; it seems the more she sneezes, the worse the urge gets.

I silently raise my cup in a toast towards the flourishing tree, that without a doubt is the culprit.


No, I can’t take this anymore. I have to push my luck a little.

“Bless you!” I shout. “Allergies?”

She falls utterly silent and I hope I didn’t scare her off. Or that I gave her nose stage fright. But it turns out I don’t have to worry; once an allergic nose gets started, there is nothing that can stop it except for antihistamines or, well, winter.

“Th-thank you,” she replies, and she sounds mortified, but she begins to sneeze all over again anyway. I bet she’d rub her rebellious nose right off her face if she could, but all she can to is allow it to have its way. A fit of half-stifled, messy and no doubt utterly unsatisfying sneezes bursts from her before she blows her nose - hard - into what must be a handful of tissues. There is no way a single sheet can take so much without crumbling to pieces. “Yes, it’s terrible.”

There is no way those words can betray the congestion this much, but they still do.

“I can tell,” I remark, my voice somewhere between light and concerned. I sincerely hope she won’t be able to detect just how much I enjoy listening to this performance, but given her predicament, I doubt she’d notice many things outside of her own misery at the moment. “What are you allergic to?” I ask.

She chuckles and it comes out as a congested half-cough.

“I have no idea whatsoever! But I’ve nehhh-heh-ESSCCH! Never sneezed this… iiiSSCHHuggh! EISSCCHHuh! EeyISSCCH! This much in my life!”

She blows her nose again, and then she pulls the blinds aside and I’m treated with a visual of this gloriously allergic woman up close. Her eyes, which are the same colour of a winter sky right before a storm, are rimmed with red, swollen with tears that keep welling up in them and trickle down her flushed cheeks. Her full lips are parted, likely because by now she’s so stuffed up she cannot possibly breathe through her nose.

As for her nose… it’s slender and elegant, and it must be tormented beyond words. It’s not just her nostrils that are red; her entire nose is a bright, glowing red, and although she keeps sniffling and wiping at it, watery moisture keeps glittering just underneath those perfectly sculptured nostrils.

“Oh,” I say. In fact, there is nothing else I could say, I’m speechless. Her eyelids flutter and close, which leads to even more tears falling down her cheeks. Those beautiful nostrils tremble and widen, and as she tilts her head a little back, she raises the soaked tissue she clutches in one hand, and puts it over both nose and mouth. Her head bobs forward with a harsh, stuffy fit.


When she manages to open her eyes again, she looks embarrassed, and she keeps the tissue pressed against her leaking nose.

“I apologise. I’m such a mess today.”

“No need to apologise. It’s not like you can help it.”

“I’m Stephanie. And again, I‘m really sorry about this.”

“I’m Alexandra. And again, no need to be.”

I smile - well, I try to smile, but I’m pretty sure it’s a stupid grin rather than a smile. If Stephanie notices, she doesn’t mention it, but her nose is still torturing her and she has to attend to it rather than interpreting my facial expressions.

“Nice to meet you. I think I have to go inside before I sneeze my head off altogether,” she says and I can tell that she’s already struggling with the next sneeze. Almost wrestling with it, in fact.

“Alright,” I laugh. “You take care.”

“I w-w… huhESCCHH! AH-ikgTSCCHuh! I will.”

And she goes back inside, her own coffee forgotten on the small table, next to the Sunday paper. It’s folded so that I only read one headline clearly.

“Pollen count expected to rise.”

And to think I thought the newspapers only came with bad news.

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I love these original stories you write Chanel - you somehow manage to tap into the perfect fantasy scenario for sneeze fetishists and take us along for the ride with you biggrin.png Having a neighbor who sneezes like that would be unbelievably amazing!

Edited by NoV
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This was such a fun little read - and like the others said, how awesome would it be if this actually happened!? Thanks for sharing this - I enjoyed it immensely! ^_^

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Your original stories are some of my favorite on the forum -- you capture that tickly, allergic misery so perfectly... they're like a fantasy written down every time. Thanks for sharing! :)

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*low whistle* I read this the other day but I was clearly too overwhelmed to reply then! Lovely work, Chanel!

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I loved what you did at the end of the story there with the newspaper bit LOL. I love your stories.

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This was quite an entertaining read! It kinda sounded like an observation in the beginning, like ones I've had from my own personal experiences, mixed with a few I've only dreamt having :)

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This is a very engaging story... I really like the neighbor dynamic... You don't see that very often.

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