Hallway shadows swallow me. Midnight. Parquet groans soft under socks. Her door—Hélène’s, the French girl next door—cracks open an inch. Light spills yellow. Forgot to latch after trash run? Heart thuds. Peek. She’s there, brunette hair tousled, phone glow on her face. Little nose wrinkles. Lips purse thoughtful. She swipes gallery. I glimpse flashes: her nudes, ass up, cock in her, cum on chin. Dirty bitch. My cock twitches in sweats. Risky—elevator dings distant. Neighbors sleep. But I lean closer. Doorframe cold on cheek. She smiles wicked at screen. Sexting someone. Spanish whispers: ‘Tu polla, Ramon…’ Fuck. She’s heating up.
She sits on bed. Strings, heels scattered floor. Lamp haze. Fingers fly: invites him over. No go. She pouts. Hand dips panties. I stroke slow through fabric. Precum wets. Floor creaks—freeze. Silence. She types furious: ‘Necesito sex.’ Ramon relents. Tango app. She downloads, shaky. Invites all contacts. Dumb slut. Phone propped on bed robes. Full view now—her kneeling, blowing kiss. Décolleté deep. She mutes sound. Strips bra. Tits perk small, nipples hard. String slips slow. Ass cheeks split bare. Pussy shaved smooth, lips glistening. She caresses slit. Whispers: ‘Hmmm… Que polla.’ My fist pumps harder. Muffled moans leak through door. Walls thin—anyone hears? Adrenaline spikes.
The Contact
She grabs dildo from drawer. Thick veiny. Sucks deep, spit trails. Legs spread wide. Fingers circle clit first—wet squelch faint. Slides toy in. Inch by inch. Hips buck. ‘Oh, Ramon! Mira como disfruta…’ Eyes roll. Faster thrusts. Bed creaks rhythmic. Sweat beads skin. Tits jiggle. She licks nipple, lost. My balls tighten. Stroke matches her pace. Hall light flickers—footsteps? No. Just pulse roaring ears. She spasms. Guttural moans muffled by pillow bite. Dildo buried, pussy clenches visible. Juices drip sheets. Climax hits—body arches. I unload silent in hand. Hot ropes on floor. Wipe quick on sock.
She slumps, legs splayed. Eyes flutter open. Panic dawns—screen chaos. Grabs phone. Flings it. Crash. ‘Oh merde!’ Door slams my view. I backpedal silent. Heart hammers chest. Parquet betrays squeak. Her door flies—light floods hall. I duck into mine. Key rattles frantic. Peephole: her silhouette flees stairs, phone clutched. Crosses old lady downstairs—awkward nod. Secret mine. Cock still throbs. Replay burns mind. Neighborhood sleeps. Our dirt stays hushed.