The hallway reeked of polished wood and distant garlic from someone’s dinner. Midnight sharp. Paris apartment block, thin walls. Neighbors snoring behind doors. My short-term rental for work, floor three. Julien’s place right next door. The online erotic scribe I’d jerked off to. Didn’t know till he picked me up across the street.
Car fiasco still burned. Parking lot below, dark corner. His rough grab under my skirt. My slap cracked loud. Fled up the stairs, coffee in the brasserie. Texts flew. Apologies. Mine too. Heart thumped now, heels muffled on creaky parquet.
The Contact
His door. Light sliced under, golden sliver. Muffled TV hum—some porn flick? Fist hovered. Knock? No. Push. Ajar. ‘Come in,’ whisper rough. Eyes locked. Hungry. Remorseful. Pushed past. Door snicked shut. His scent hit—musk, cologne. Like his stories.
‘Forgive me?’ Hand on my waist. I nodded. Lips crashed. Soft first. Then teeth. Tongue invaded. Back hit wall. Plaster cool. His cock pressed hard through pants. Mine soaked lingerie. The kind he described. Minimal pubes. Ready.
Hand slid up thigh. Skirt hiked. Garters snapped. Finger traced lace. ‘Like Magali?’ I breathed. He growled. ‘You’ll lâche.’ Door rattled faint. Neighbor stir?
His apartment dim. Blinds cracked, streetlamp glow striped floor. Couch shadows. Pulled me in. Doorway fuck? No. Bedroom. Parquet groaned under steps. Bed loomed. Springs whispered test.
Shirt ripped open. Buttons pinged soft. Bra yanked. Nipples peaked cold air. Sucked hard. Bite. Gasp choked. ‘Shhh.’ Finger to lips. Pussy throbbed. Skirt off. Panties shredded. Naked now. Him too. Cock sprang. Thick. Veined. Precum bead.
Pushed down. Back arched wood floor. Cold shock. Legs spread. His head dove. Tongue lashed clit. Slurps wet. Muffled. Fingers plunged. Two. Curl. Gush. ‘Quiet, fuck.’ Moan bitten lip. Walls paper-thin. Old lady next moans? No. Imagination?
The Indiscretion
‘Ride me.’ Flipped. Straddled. Cock nudged slit. Sank slow. Filled. Stretched. Inch grind. Hips bucked. Slaps skin soft. Wet smacks. Bed creak? No, floor. Parquet cracked protest. Rhythm built. Faster. Balls slapped ass. Grunts huffed ear.
Window blinds rattled faint breeze. Courtyard below. Lights off. Quartier slept. But footsteps? Hall echo. Freeze. Cock pulsed inside. Hold breath. Passed. Resume. Harder. Nails dug back. ‘Cum,’ hissed. Clit grind. Explode. Walls clenched. He thrust deep. Hot spurts. Filled. Overflow.
Collapsed. Sweat slick. Breaths ragged. Whispered praises. ‘Better than stories.’ Kiss bruised.
Minutes. Reality bit. Pulled apart. Cum trailed thigh. Dressed hasty. Mirror glance—hair wild, lips swollen. ‘Go first.’ He peeked hall. Clear.
Door cracked. Slipped out. Heart hammered chest. Parquet cold feet. My door ten steps. Key fumbling. Click. Halfway—elevator ding. Old man shuffled out. Eyes down. ‘Bonsoir,’ mumble. Nod. Pulse roared ears. Did he smell sex? Hear?
Inside. Locked. Back slid door. Knees buckled. Grin split. Secret mine. His walls hummed faint. Still hard? Quartier oblivious. Transgressed. Alive.