Dim hallway light flickers. Late night. Everyone asleep. Except us. Door creaks open next door. Pauline fumbles keys. Skirt hiked, tits spilling from blouse. Our eyes lock. Sweat on her neck. ‘Hervé,’ she whispers. Voice husky. ‘Francis is at the bar. Drowning sorrows.’ I nod. Suit tight. Cock twitches. She glances back. Door ajar. ‘Come in. Quick beer.’ Heart slams. Footsteps echo soft. I cross threshold. Click. Locked in.
Her place reeks of fresh sheets, perfume. Kitchen light spills low. She grabs beers from fridge. Frothy pour. ‘Nineteen months he’s changed. No booze. Sport. Cooking. For me.’ Gulp. Burp escapes her. Giggle. ‘But I need a real man.’ Hand on my crotch. Squeeze. Hard. Lips crash. Tongue wet, beer bitter. Stumble to bedroom. Suit jacket off. Hung on door hook. Pants drop. Her fingers unzip. Cock springs. Not huge. But hard.
The Contact
Bed groans. She climbs top. Head-bêche. Perfect 69. Pussy drips on my face. Musky, soaked. Shaved smooth. I lap deep. Clit throbs. She moans muffled. ‘Fuck yes.’ Mouth engulfs cock. Sloppy suck. Gags soft. Saliva drips balls. Head bobs frantic. Bed creaks loud. Too loud. Neighbors sleep thin walls. Parquet cracks under knees. Light filters blinds. Streetlamp glow. Shadows dance. Fear spikes. Francis home soon? Pound her hole with tongue. She grinds. Juices flood chin.
The Indiscretion
Flip her. Legs spread wide. Cock slides in. Tight. Wet grip. Thrust hard. Slap skin. Muffled grunts. ‘Quieter,’ she hisses. But hips buck wild. Pussy clenches. Sweat slicks. Balls slap ass. Door rattles faint. Wind? Or steps? Heart races. Burp from beer rises. Ignore. Faster. Deeper. She bites pillow. Moans choked. ‘Cum inside. Risk it.’ Balls tighten. Explode. Hot spurts fill her. She quivers. Climax shakes. Gasp. Still.
Pull out. Cum leaks thigh. Quick wipe. Suit on. Zipper rasps. She whispers, ‘Go. Secret.’ Door cracks. Hallway empty. Pulse thunders ears. Stairs creak. Footsteps? Duck shadow. Slip to my door. Key turns silent. Inside. Breath heavy. Cock sticky. Thrill buzzes. Neighborhood sleeps. Our dirt safe. For now.