August nights in the empty city. Streets dead quiet. I slip into the old apartment building’s hallway, vagabond style. No one’s around. Everyone’s on vacation. Perfect for us night crawlers. Moonlight filters through the grimy window, casting shadows on peeling wallpaper. My bare feet pad soft on the cold tiles. Heart thumps low. Looking for a corner to crash.
Door creaks open down the hall. I freeze. Footsteps. Heavy, bare too. He steps out. Tall fucker, shirtless, sweatpants low. Green eyes pierce the dark like Jean-Loup’s ghost. Muscled chest, rugby build maybe. My brother’s type. He lights a smoke, leans on the balcony rail. Sees me. Stares. No words. Just that look. Hungry. Dangerous.
The Contact
I step closer. Parquet groans under me. He flicks the cig, nods to his door. Half-open. Invitation. Fuck it. Risk everything. I cross the threshold. Inside, stale air, unmade bed, clothes strewn. Door clicks shut soft. His hand grabs my neck. Pulls me in. Lips crash. Rough. Beards scrape. Tastes like beer and smoke. Cock hardens instant against my thigh. His too. Massive. Like the song says.
Hands yank my shirt. Off. Pants drop. Naked quick. Hallway light slits under the door. Yellow glow dances. Voices murmur faint from neighbors’ TVs. We freeze. Listen. Safe. He shoves me to the wall. Kneels. Grips my thick cock. ‘Dudule’s big dick,’ he whispers, grinning. Sings low: ‘C’est la grosse bite à Dudule…’ Knows the tune? Doesn’t matter. Mouth engulfs me. Wet heat. Slurps muffled. I bite my fist. Groan stifled.
The Indiscretion
I pull him up. Spin him. Face to wall. Pants to ankles. Ass cheeks spread. Hairy crack. Hole winks. Spit on fingers. Probe. He bucks quiet. ‘Fuck me,’ hisses. I line up. Push. Tight ring yields. Inch by inch. Balls deep. Parquet cracks loud under our shift. We halt. Breath ragged. Light under door steady. No footsteps. Good.
Thrust slow. Deep. His ass clenches. Sweat drips. Skin slaps soft, wet. I cover his mouth. He moans into palm. Muffled grunts. My balls smack his. Pace builds. Frenzy hushed. Cock throbs. His hand jerks himself. Cum spurts first on wall. Hot ropes. Triggers me. Flood his guts. Pulse after pulse. Pull out slow. Cum leaks down his thigh. Sticky mess.
We pant. Wipe quick with his shirt. He grins. ‘Come back tomorrow, Dudule.’ I nod. Slip out door. Hallway empty. Heart hammers chest. Stairs creak under me. Old lady shuffles up, robe loose. Eyes me odd. Smells sex? Passes without word. Door slams floors above. Neighborhood sleeps. Secret locked tight. Grin splits my face. Vagabond life. Pure thrill.