Dark hallway. Evening shadows cling to the walls. Arms full of grocery bags, kraft paper crinkling. I fumble the building door. Stairs echo faintly under my heels. Mailbox clicks open. Mail slips into my mouth. Then—a firm hand on my shoulder. Gasp muffled. Bags thud down. ‘Shhh,’ whispers a man’s voice, low and commanding. Don’t turn. Heart hammers. Concierge door just feet away. I could scream. Run. But I freeze. Voice close, breath hot on my neck. ‘Emma. No fear. Just a game.’ Unknown tone. Familiar edge? ‘I’m here to fuck you.’ Shock hits. Slap him? No. Listen. ‘You know me. You’ll let me. Paul’s away. You’re wet for it, slut.’ Paul? His trick? Early return? Code to enter—only he has it. Doubt flickers. Play along. Silence my answer. He presses against my back. Hard cock through pants. Not Paul’s cologne. Musky. New? Too late now. Hand slips into blouse. Button pops. Bra shoved aside. Fingers claim my tit. Rough pinch. Other hand hikes skirt. Tights yanked down with thong. Wet already. He knows. Fingers probe my slit. Dip in shallow. ‘Soaked, whore.’ Thong balled, stuffed in my mouth. Taste my arousal. Hands pinned to mailboxes. Bags spill. Carrots roll obscenely. Blouse gapes. Tits out. Fingers invade. Two now. Thrusting deep. I squirm back. Moan muffled. ‘Knew you’d beg with your cunt.’ Parquet creaks under shifting weight. Light seeps under concierge door. Any sound—gone.
Fingers brutal now. Pussy stretched. I buck. He pulls out. Forces them past thong. Suck my juices. Salty. Eyes shut. Tits mauled. Slap—sting on flesh. Nipples twisted. Pain sparks heat. ‘Lied. Here to rape this hole.’ Zipper rasps. Hot cock slaps my ass. Thick. Veiny. ‘Feel my dick, bitch?’ Mmmph. Yes. Pinch. Slap on cheek. Fire blooms. I arch. More. Hands rain down. Ass glows red. Skin sings. ‘Save this for later. You’ll get it.’ Cock nudges thighs. Rams in. No mercy. Fills me raw. So long since full. Wet squelch. Slams deep. Out almost. Grips tits. Twists. ‘Filthy slut!’ Grunts echo soft. I hump back. Mmmph with each thrust. Pounding builds. Orgasm nears. He yanks out. Cum sprays hot on ass. Groan low. Drips down crack. To hole. ‘Spread cheeks.’ Hands obey. Flash—camera. ‘Souvenir.’ Door bangs. Gone. Street swallows him. No chase. Naked ass exposed.
The Contact
Gather mess. Tights, thong soaked—shoved in bags. Mail scattered. Veggies lewd. Skirt down. Blouse buttoned crooked. Stairs creak under rush. Heart thuds. Footsteps? No one. Door slams home. Safe. Undress. Cum crusts skin. Shower hisses. Hot jet between legs. Still throbbing. Full pressure on clit. Fingers part lips. Pulse builds. Legs shake. Climax crashes. Grip wall. Gasp free now. Waves subside. Paul tomorrow. Say nothing. His game? He’ll spill. Not? Secret mine. Hysteria hums. Crave him vanilla. Eyes locked. Missionary tame. But this fire—neighbors blind. Risk lingers. Parquet groans in memory. Light under doors. All asleep. My dirt.