The hallway light flickered dim. Nantes apartment block, thin walls. I’d just moved in, 22, broke student. Footsteps creak on old parquet. Door opens. Him—Armand, 55, silver hair, sharp eyes. ‘Neighbor, drink?’ His voice low, inviting. I nod. Cross threshold. Heart quickens. Neighbors asleep, maybe listening.
Inside, walls lined black-and-white nudes. Muscled bodies, cocks half-hard, lovers tangled. He hands albums. Pages turn. Shafts swell, cum-glistened. My dick twitches. ‘Pose for me,’ he whispers. Camera clicks. First shot. I bolt back to my studio. Door slams soft. Parquet groans underfoot. Jerk off furious, imagining it.
The Contact
Envelope under door next day. My photo. ‘When you want.’ Days haunt. Sunday knock. Coffee with friend. Hallway empty, but echoes carry. Enter. Hubert, 20s, boxer-clad on sofa. Cock tents fabric. Poses lewd. Drops briefs. Smooth, cut dick springs free, rock-hard. Sits by him. Hand on shoulder. He strokes. Kisses cheek. Kneels, jerks inches from me. Grits teeth, stifles groan. Cum arcs, splats my jeans. Flash pops. 200 francs. I flee, cum-stain spreading. Stairwell dark, neighbor’s door cracks light—hold breath.
Envelope again. Gay mag, my pic staring at his spurting cock. 50 francs bookmark. ‘Nude pays more.’ Friday night. Hallway shadows. His door ajar, whisky scent. Accept. Glass heavy. Hand on thigh. Slips under shirt. Pinches nipples hard. Gasp escapes—too loud? He kneels, strips me. Cock throbs. Fingers my hole. Camera whirs. I stroke, spread cheeks. He jerks, unloads on belly. Hot ropes. I cum too. 200 francs sticky in hand. Creep home, floorboards protest.
The Indiscretion
Next session. Luc there, Armand’s age. Strip fast. Kneel at Luc’s feet. Unzip. Tongue gland. Suck deep. Fingers gel my ass. Stretch me. Armand shoots. Luc mounts. I impale backward—silent thrust. Switch. Both fuck me raw. Moans muffled in pillows. Parquet creaks under knees. Lights flicker from street through blinds—seen? Armand cums inside. Prostate milked, I shoot hands-free. Luc paints face. Tongue it clean. They grin. ‘True slut.’ Paid again. Heart pounds.
Stairs down. Footstep behind—freeze. Old lady passes, nods. Secret safe. Back in studio, door locked. Replay creaks, flashes, cum-taste. Jerk again. Neighbors oblivious. Thrill pulses.