April 1st, 2012. 2 AM. My apartment hallway. Naked. Heart slamming ribs. Skin prickles in cool air. Pussy throbs, wet already. Door clicks shut behind me. One step. Two. Goosebumps explode. nipples rock-hard. I hesitate, fingers graze clit. No. Steps first. Palier branches like a Y—my pussy. Advance. Breath ragged. What if doors open? Risk ignites fire low in belly. Fingers slip inside, slick. Deeper into hall. Pulse roars. Intersection. Max exposure. Run? No—press against wall near stairs. Hand on tit, squeezing. Other dives between thighs. Two fingers plunge. Pussy clenches. Moan escapes. Cum hard, legs shake. Free. Alive.
Days blur. Points system fuels hunger. No panties at uni. Stall swap—naked dash. Jean stuffed in bag, coat only out. Bus ride: unbutton, pussy flashes seats. Boutique fitting: stripped bare for swimsuit, dash to counter nude. Old lady glares as ass flashes. Home walk: coat gaps, cunt bare to night air. Hall orgasm: legs spread, fingers frantic, cum waves crashing.
The Fever
April 3rd. Bus again. Valérie spots. Unbuttons my coat. “Slut.” Her eyes devour. Strips bra, then jeans, panties. Bald pussy gleams. Smooth. Irresistible. She strips me top—tits out, hands on pussy. Masturbate wild, eyes shut. Cum screaming her name. Passengers board—scramble into coats. Sprint home nude in hall. She kisses hard. Door open. Tits crush. Pubes grind her silk mound. Finger her depths. Tongue her clit.
The Blaze
Hallway floor. Her mouth devours my pussy. Tongue lashes clit. Fingers curl inside, hit spot. Heart thunders. Sweat slicks skin. I lap her bald slit—sweet nectar floods. She grinds face on me. Cum first, thighs clamp her head. Switch. My tongue spears her hole. Fingers pinch clit. She bucks, screams, juices squirt. Bedroom. All night. Tits as plates—lick jam from nipples. Pussies as cups—dip fingers, suck clean. No hands below waist. Ride faces. Scissor pussies—clits duel, slick friction burns. Cum together, bodies quake. Her hand in hair, my face buried mound. Fingers lodged deep overnight.
The Blaze
The Ashes
Dawn. She’s gone? Panic claws. Kitchen nude, humming. Dress on? No. She begs jam on tits. Tears. “Can’t.” She breaks. Kisses forehead. Leaves nude, ass sways. Words echo: “Take happiness, keep it for you.” Sobs rack me. Run after—too late. Rage strips dress. Elevator nude selfies. Send: “Gift for you.” Reply: “Always here.”
Skin still hums. Heart slows, but fire smolders. Changed. Alive in heat. More risks. More cum. Happiness mine—hot, selfish, raw.