The hallway light buzzes faintly. Dim yellow glow filters under doors. It’s late, past midnight. Everyone asleep. I step out for my evening walk, short skirt hugging thighs. Thigh-highs grip my skin, black lace tops hidden but teasing. No panties tonight. Air whispers up my bare pussy as I lock the door.
Footsteps echo softly. Him. The neighbor across the hall. Mid-forties, broad shoulders, eyes that linger. He pauses, keys in hand. ‘Evening,’ he murmurs, voice low. His gaze drops to my legs. Sheer black sheen catches the light. ‘Stockings or pantyhose?’ he asks, direct, like Ghislain years ago.
The Contact
Heart skips. I smile, coy. ‘Come check.’ Door clicks open behind me. I pull him in. Threshold crossed. Parquet creaks under our weight. His hand slides up my thigh, rough fingers probing. Finds the lace band. ‘Fuck, stockings,’ he breathes. Hot breath on my neck. Curtains sway, streetlight slits through blinds.
Inside now. Door shuts with a muffled thud. His mouth crashes mine. Hands yank skirt up. Fingers trace bare skin above the tops. Pussy already slick, dripping. He groans, low. ‘No panties? Slutty neighbor.’ I nod, whispering, ‘Shh, walls thin.’ Bed creaks as I push him down. Straddle him quick.
Fear spikes delicious. Neighbors could hear. Old Mrs. next door sleeps light. His cock hard, thick. I grind down, wet lips parting over head. Sink slow. Inch by inch. Muffled gasp escapes me. His hands grip my ass, thumbs brushing lace. Thrust up, quiet slap of skin. Parquet groans faintly under bed legs.
The Indiscretion
Pace builds. Sweat beads. My tits bounce free from blouse. He sucks nipple hard, teeth grazing. I bite lip bloody to stay silent. Pussy clenches, juices soaking his balls. ‘Gonna cum,’ he hisses. I ride harder, thighs burning against his hips. Lace bands roll slightly, friction electric. Light under door—someone stirs?
Orgasm hits like fire. I shudder, silent scream in throat. He pumps deep, hot spurts fill me. Cum leaks down thigh, staining stocking top. We freeze, panting whispers. Heart hammers. Listen. Nothing. Just distant snore through wall.
He pulls out slow, slick pop. I stand, skirt falls. Cum trickles inner thigh. Quick kiss, feral. ‘Secret,’ I whisper. He nods, slips out. Door clicks shut. Hallway empty. I wait, breath ragged. Creep back to my door. Footsteps downstairs—someone up? Freeze. Pass by.
Inside again. Lock turns soft. Lean against door, pulse thundering. Pussy throbs, full of him. Mirror shows flushed face, smeared lipstick. Stockings wrecked, cum-glazed. Wipe thigh with finger, taste salty. Secret safe. Neighborhood sleeps on. But I crave next time. That look, that check. Any man now. Verify me. Fuck the age.