The buzzer slices the night. Nine-thirty. Heart slams chest. It’s her. Anne-Sophie. I buzz her up. Footsteps echo in the hallway. Creak of old stairs. Neighbors asleep, lights off under doors. I peek through peephole. Leather jacket, helmet under arm. Biker chick vibe. Door cracks open. Cool air rushes in. Her eyes lock mine. Hungry. ‘Had trouble finding the place,’ she whispers. Streetlight filters through hallway window, shadows her face. I step aside. She crosses threshold. Door clicks shut. Soft. Too loud? Parquet groans under boots. We freeze. Listen. Silence. Her scent hits me. Leather, sweat. ‘Pyjamas suit you,’ she murmurs. Hand brushes mine. Spark. I lead her in. Couch. Close. Breath quickens.
Tension snaps. She shrugs off jacket. Zipper rasps. Tee-shirt clings. ‘Nyctalope,’ it reads. Laugh bubbles low. We talk. Whispers only. Walls thin here. Old building. Mr. Duval next door snores loud sometimes. Her hand on knee. Slides up. Heat builds. ‘Bedroom?’ I breathe. She nods. Stand. Floor creaks. We stifle gasps. Hallway dark. Door ajar to bedroom. Moonlight slits through blinds. Street hum faint. Neighbors’ windows black. She’s first to strip. Tee flies. Bra gone. Small tits, nipples hard. Pants drop. Thong peels off slow. Pussy shaved, glistening. My turn. Pyjamas whisper off. Naked. Skin prickles. Embrace. Lips crash. Tongues duel. Wet. Urgent.
The Contact
Bed dips. Springs squeak. Fuck. Too loud? We hush. Her mouth on neck. Bites soft. Hands roam. Fingers pinch nipples. Twist. I moan into pillow. Muffled. Her down. Licks tits. Sucks hard. Trail to belly. Spreads legs. Breath hot on clit. Tongue flicks. Circles. Dives in. Slurps my juices. Crude. Wet smacks. I buck. Grip sheets. Fingers her hair. Push deeper. She groans. Vibrates pussy. Two fingers plunge. Curl. Hit spot. Gush. Her turn. Straddle face. Pussy grinds. Taste her. Salty. Musky. Grind back. Scissors. Clits rub. Slippery. Fast. Bedframe taps wall. Thud. Stop. Listen. Nothing. Harder. Sweat slicks. Whimpers choked. ‘Quiet,’ she hisses. Fingers ass. Probe. Dirty. Deep. I return. Fist her hole gentle. She quakes. Climax builds. Bodies slap soft. Muffled cries. Explosion. Waves crash. Cum squirts. Soak sheets. Collapse. Panting. Hearts thunder.
Bathroom flush. She yells over water, ‘Sunday? Meet Marc, my husband.’ Gut drops. Married. Ringless. Laughs it off. ‘Open-minded.’ I nod. Numb. Thrill fades. She dresses. Quick. Kiss lingering. Door. Hallway again. Steps out. Stairs creak down. I linger. Hear neighbor’s door below. Old lady coughs. Close call. Lock clicks. Back inside. Bed wrecked. Smell of sex hangs. Heart still races. Secret locked tight. Neighbors none the wiser. Tomorrow, clinic. Act normal. But walls remember.