July 29, 1998. Midnight nears. Hallway reeks of stale piss and curry. Bulb buzzes faint yellow. I tiptoe past apartment 207. My sister Nouria’s door. Heels off. Bare feet silent on cold tiles.
Splash. Muffled hum. ‘Hmmm…’ Her voice. Low. Needy. Light leaks under door. Golden crack. Heart thumps. Whole cité sleeps. Kids dreaming. Old bags snoring. One creak, and I’m busted.
The Hallway Pull
Ear to wood. Water sloshes. Grunts. Ben’s deep rumble. Flesh slap. Wet. Rhythmic. Pussy aches. Bad sis. But fuck, the rush. Hand presses door. Gives a hair. Crack open? No lock? They forgot.
Peek in. Salon dark. Bathroom door ajar. Steam curls out. Tub glows under harsh bulb. Nouria’s caramel skin shines. Legs splayed wide over edge. Ben kneels. Head buried in her crotch. Tongue dives deep.
Slurp. Lick. She arches. Fingers claw his scalp. ‘Ben… oh fuck… lick my pussy…’ Voice husky. Bites lip hard. Water drips. Plink plink on tiles. My breath catches. Skirt hikes. Fingers slip inside panties. Soak. Clit throbs.
He laps her ass. Fingers plunge her slit. Cyprine drips. She writhes. ‘Don’t stop… taste me…’ Hips buck. Splashes louder. Floor creaks under my shift. Freeze. Nothing. Parquet groans soft. Neighbors above? Thin walls swallow secrets.
Forbidden Glimpse
Ben stands. Cock juts. Thick. Veined. Balls heavy. Grabs her hips. Rubs head on her lips. Slides in. One thrust. She gasps. ‘Yes… fuck me slow…’ Water overflows. Gurgle in drain. He pumps. Slow. Deep. Her tits bounce. Nipples peak hard.
I rub faster. Juices coat thighs. Imagine his tongue on me. Risk burns sweet. Door bangs? No. Just them. She climbs him. Legs wrap waist. Against wall. ‘Harder… but quiet…’ Slaps echo faint. Muffled cries. ‘Oh Ben… cum in me…’
Heat builds. My knees weak. Finger fucks self. Mirror their rhythm. Stores rattle outside. Moon full. Shadows dance. Sudden growl. Low. Animal. Door flies? Shadow hulks. Fangs gleam. Kleyner? The biter from Ben’s tale.
Nouria screams. ‘Who?!’ Ben spins. Shoves her back. Tub crash. Vampire lunges. Eyes blaze. Chaos. Fists. Thud. I bolt. Door slams my place. Heart hammers ribs. Lock clicks.
Couch. Panting. Fingers sticky. Cum drips. Secret burns. They fled? Sirens no. Cité dead quiet. Wipe hands. Lights out. Smile creeps. Tomorrow, ask Nouria casual. Lie smooth. Our dirty hush. Neighborhood blind. Frisson lingers. Crave more.