Thirsty. Middle of the night. Rémi’s apartment. Dark hallway. Parquet creaks under my bare feet. Splash cold water in bathroom sink. Head clears.
Step out. Dim light filters under bedroom door. Flickers. Shadows dance. There she stands. Laetitia. Rémi’s T-shirt clings to her curves. Bare thighs gleam. No panties. Nipples poke fabric.
The Contact
“Rémi told me,” she whispers. Voice husky. Steps close. Heat hits me. “Rough night, huh? Still crave adventure?”
Eyes lock. Her blues pierce. Hand brushes my chest. Fingers trail down. I stiffen. Guilt flashes—Marion, Rémi. But cock twitches.
She presses in. Small body molds to mine. Tits squash soft against pecs. Lips part. Tongue darts. Kiss wet, urgent. Hands grip her ass. Firm cheeks flex.
Pull back. “Can’t do this to Rémi.”
Voice behind. “Who says?” Rémi. Naked. Grinning. Sweat-slick chest. “She’s game. Aren’t you, babe?”
She nods. Grinds hips. Decision made. Threshold crossed. Heart races. Neighbors sleep. Walls paper-thin.
Her arms snake my neck. Arches back. Fesses push toward Rémi. He steps up. Hands grip hips. Flex. Thrust. She gasps. Pussy takes his cock. Wet squelch. Barely audible.
Body jolts. Against me. Ondulations ripple. Parquet groans. We freeze. Listen. Silence. No doors open. No footsteps. Risk spikes thrill.
She paws me. Fingers pinch nipples. Tongue laps. Down. Boxers tent. She yanks down. Cock springs free. Hard. Veiny. Precum beads.
The Indiscretion
Strokes. Firm. Matches his pumps. Rhythm builds. Slaps skin muffled. Her moans—stifled. Bites lip. Eyes roll.
Rémi grunts low. Faster. Hips smack. She bends. Mouth engulfs me. Hot. Wet. Sucks deep. Tongue swirls head. Gags soft.
Floor creaks louder. Light spills brighter under door. Someone stir? No. Building sleeps. Quarter unaware.
He tenses. Groans choked. Fills her. Cum drips thighs. She quivers. Climbs. Sucks harder. Balls tighten. I erupt. Thick ropes down throat. She swallows. Milks dry.
Collapse. Panting. Sweaty heap on floor. She licks lips. Dips finger in used condom. Tastes Rémi’s load. Smirks.
“Maybe tomorrow, Seb. Less questions.”
Door clicks shut. Lock snaps. Bedroom seals.
Rémi claps shoulder. “Share couch, bro. She forgets fast. Enjoyed?”
Nod. Heart hammers. Adrenaline fades. Secret locked. Parquet still. No knocks. Neighbors dream on.
Lights out. Snores mix. Mine loud. His too. Mind races. Pussy image burns. Tits. Ass. Tat. Risk lingers. Dawn nears. Home? Or stay for more?