Rain drips from the hallway ceiling. Piss stench clings to the walls. Ninth floor, decrepit building over Rue du Repos. Cemetery lane. I knock on Olga’s door. Ballon’s mine—kid’s new one, fell on her balcony. Door cracks open. She sways, vodka breath hits like a slap. Shirt half-unbuttoned, tits sagging heavy. ‘Come in,’ she slurs. Eyes glassy, horny. Michel pukes in the john. I peek past her. Balcony’s lit faint by ‘La Chance’ neon flickering green-red across the street. Thunder rumbles low.
She grabs my arm. Skin sticky, sweat and booze. ‘Forget the ball. Fuck me.’ Parquet creaks under her bare feet. I hesitate. Street below dark, Estelle paces three steps left-right under sex-shop awning. Paulo sprawls by pub bins, passed out. Risk thrills my gut. Neighborhood sleeps. Violate it here. Door still ajar. Light filters under from stairwell. I step in. Threshold crossed. Her hand slides to my crotch. Hard already.
The Contact
Hallway shadows swallow us. She pulls me to the living room mess. Bottles, puke stains, chips crushed. Open slider to balcony. There—Alain. Fat fucker humps the balloon. Grunting soft. His cock slaps rubber, pre-cum slick. Misses hole again. We watch, breath held. She presses against me. Ass grinding back. ‘Like that?’ Whispers hoarse. My hands on her hips. Leather skirt hikes up. No panties. Wet slit brushes my jeans.
Thunder cracks. Covers her gasp as I yank pants down. Cock springs free. She bends over table edge, facing balcony. Alain jerks faster, oblivious. Neon buzzes, casts sickly glow on her pale ass. I spit on palm, rub head. Push in raw. Tight, sloppy from booze sweat. She bites lip. ‘Shh,’ I hiss. Parquet groans under thrust. Slow at first. Build. Slap-slap muffled by storm. Her tits swing, knock bottle. Rolls quiet. Fear spikes—neighbors hear? Estelle glance up? Paulo stir?
The Indiscretion
I grip her waist fat. Pound harder. Balls smack thighs. She claws table, nails scrape wood. Moan escapes—’Fuck!’ Thunder booms, saves us. Balcony rail creaks. Alain spurts now, ropes on balloon. White globs drip. He staggers. I rail her deeper. Her walls clench. ‘Gonna cum,’ she whimpers. I pull hair, arch her back. Window glass cool on her cheek. Silhouette for street? Risk burns cock hotter. Final thrusts brutal. Flood her. Hot spurts mix her juice. Drip down legs.
Pull out. Cum strings to floor. She slumps, panting. Alain grabs balloon—slips? Nah, not yet. I zip up. Heart hammers ribs. Balcony door slides whisper-shut. Wipe sweat. She grins sloppy. ‘Secret.’ Nod. Slip out door. Hallway empty. Creak down stairs—one flight, pause. Footsteps? No. Heart thuds echo. Cross Janitor? Nothing. Ground floor, Estelle under awning, oblivious. Street puddles reflect neon. Back home. Door clicks soft. Lie still. Adrenaline buzz. Neighborhood sleeps. Our dirt locked tight.