The hallway smells of pine and cinnamon. Christmas Eve. Door 4B ajar. Twinkling lights spill out—sapin loaded with guirlandes, boules brillantes, étoile scintillante. Faint music: danses, rires, chants. Souvenirs toasted with champagne. Bûche half-eaten on the table. Paquets cadeaux under the tree. Jouets scattered.
TV drones low. Incendies raging. Raz de marée swallows coasts. Tornades rip farms. Ouragans batter homes. Inondations flood streets. Sécheresses crack earth. Insectes swarm. Oiseaux drop dead. Poissons float belly-up. Mammifères starve. Chaleur, humidité, effet de serre. Fêtons Noël!
The Hallway Spark
She stands there. Neighbor from 4A. Curvy, flushed from bubbly. Eyes lock. My cock twitches. ‘Come in,’ she whispers. Hand grabs mine. Threshold crossed. Door clicks shut. Too loud? Neighbors sleep.
Her lips crash mine. Tongue wet, champagne-sweet. Hands yank my shirt. Floor creaks under us. Parquet groans. Shh. She drops to knees. Zipper down. Cock springs free. Hard, veiny. She sucks. Sloppy, quiet. Gags soft. Saliva drips. TV mutters: bombes, mitraillettes, tanks, drones. Roquettes whistle. Missiles boom. Ligne de front bleeds. Transmissions crackle. Recrutement desperate. Déserions flee. Veuves weep. Orphelins cry. Blessés moan. Amputés crawl. Morts pile. Chut, c’est Noël!
Muffled Thrusts and Escape
I pull her up. Rip skirt. Panties aside. Pussy shaved, slick. Fingers plunge. She’s soaked. ‘Fuck me,’ she breathes. Against wall. Legs wrap waist. Cock slides in. Tight. Hot. Grip like vice. Thrust slow. Deep. Parquet cracks louder. Muffled gasp. Her nails dig back. Sweat beads. Lights filter under door—neighbors might see shadows.
Faster now. Balls slap soft. Wet squelch. Bite lip. Don’t scream. Her tits bounce. Nipples hard peaks. Suck one. She arches. ‘Harder,’ whisper-hiss. Risk it. Pound. Door rattles faint. Block sleeps. Music covers groans. TV wars rage on. Our little rebellion. Cum builds. Her walls pulse. Clench. She cums first. Shudder. Bite my shoulder. Mute cry. I explode. Fill her. Hot spurts. Drip down thigh.
Collapse. Breathe ragged. Floor sticky. Wipe quick. Kiss sloppy. ‘Go,’ she says. Heart hammers. Slip out. Door shuts soft. Hallway cold. Lights dim. Footsteps echo? No. Stairs creak under me. Cross old Mrs. from 3C. ‘Merry Christmas,’ mumble. Smile tight. She nods, clueless. Secret locked. Cock still throbs. Pussy taste lingers. Back home. Lock clicks. Alone. Replay every thrust. Block dreams sugarplums. We fucked through apocalypse whispers. Chut.