The backstage hallway smelled of makeup and sweat. Parquet creaked under my bare feet as I padded back from the toilet, still raw from Cléo’s wax strips. Studio lights dimmed, girls gone. Only the hum of amps from the grillaged nook. Robert emerged from the shadows, his white beard silver in the sliver of courtyard light filtering through the slats. ‘Mimosa,’ he whispered, voice gravelly. Eyes locked, apology lingering from earlier. His hand brushed my arm, electric. Beyond the door, backyard loomed—neighbors’ windows dark, but porch lights glowed. One wrong noise, and the whole block wakes. Heart hammered. Fuck the taxi. I nodded, stepped over the threshold into the cramped music room. Door clicked shut behind us.
Piano keys cool against my back as he pinned me. Mouth crashed, tongue invading, tasting coffee and regret. ‘Sorry again, petiote,’ he murmured into my neck, hands yanking my T-shirt up. Nipples hardened in the chill air. ‘But you’re so fucking gorgeous.’ Fingers hooked my Petit Bateau panties, slid them down. Freshly bald pussy exposed, smooth and pink, rougeurs faded under powder. He groaned low, thumb circling my clit. ‘Perfect now.’ I stifled a whimper—Mrs. Petrov next door hates noise after 10 PM. His belt buckle clinked softly, zipper rasped. Thick cock sprang free, veiny, head slick. Precum beaded. ‘Shh,’ he breathed, lifting my leg over a flight case. Tip nudged my slit, wet already from the day’s tension.
The Contact
He thrust in, brutal, stretching my tight 18yo cunt. No condom, just raw heat. I bit my lip bloody to muffle the gasp. Parquet groaned under our shifting weight. His hips snapped, balls slapping my ass—thwack, thwack—echoing too loud in the nook. ‘Quiet, princess,’ he grunted, hand over my mouth. I nodded, eyes wide at the grill door. Shadows danced from a neighbor’s flashlight? Courtyard gravel crunched faintly outside. Fear twisted pleasure, pussy clenching his shaft. He fucked harder, gray hairs damp, beard tickling my tits. ‘Love this hairy girl turned smooth slut.’ Fingers dug into my thigh, pounding deep, hitting that spot. Sweat dripped, mixing with my juices trickling down. Orgasm built, silent scream trapped. I came shaking, walls milking him. He buried deep, hot spurts flooding me—cum leaking out as he softened.
Panting, he pulled free, strings of seed connecting us. Quick wipe with his shirt tail. Dressed in frenzy, jeans sticking to thighs. ‘Go now, my muse.’ Kissed my forehead like the poem. I slipped out, hallway empty, heart thundering. Backyard cool, stars above sleeping houses. Street silent. Climbed the apartment stairs two at a time, wood sighing. Door 3B cracked—old Mr. Lambert, ‘Evening, missy.’ ‘Night,’ I choked, forcing smile. Cum squelched in my panties. Locked my door, collapsed. Pussy throbbed, secret safe. Neighbors dreamed on, oblivious to the mimosa-scented sin next door.