I Crossed the Hallway to Tease My Neighbor

My neighbor was the most ordinary man. Andrés lived right across from my door, on the same landing, and every morning I saw him leave with his backpack over his shoulder and his eyes lost in his phone. Nothing ever happened between us: a “good morning,” a nod, and each of us went about our business. But there are days when boredom and arousal mix in a strange way, and that hot afternoon I could think of nothing else but getting this urge off my chest.

I’d spent weeks imagining him. Not because he was spectacular, but quite the opposite: because of how normal he seemed, because of that face that looked like he’d never broken a plate. I was curious to know how he’d react if someone pushed him a little. And I very much wanted to be the one doing the pushing.

I’d seen him a couple of times washing his car in the parking lot, focused, his T-shirt clinging to him with sweat. Nothing flashy. But that same calm of his turned me on. I pictured myself showing up at his door and watching that calm crack little by little, sentence by sentence, until he no longer knew what to say. The mere idea lit me up every night.

That afternoon, before stepping out onto the landing, I stood in front of the mirror and made a decision. I took off my bra and left myself with only the thin blouse, the kind that with just the right light hides nothing. If he’s going to look, let him look, I thought. I fixed my hair, took a deep breath, and crossed the hallway.

I knocked on his door with some random excuse, something about the Wi‑Fi and a package that hadn’t arrived. He opened it in shorts and a T-shirt, surprised to see me there.

“Am I bothering you?” I asked, with my best face as if I’d done nothing at all.

“No, no, not at all,” he said, stepping aside to let me in. “Do you want to come in?”

Exactly what I’d expected. I went in as if nothing were happening, looking around with the curiosity of a guest. His place was tidy, simple, with a big sofa facing the TV. I sat down without being asked and crossed my legs. My arousal gave me away: I could feel my nipples showing under the fabric, and I knew that sooner or later he’d see them. I didn’t do anything to cover up.

While we talked about stupid little things, I caught him. A quick glance, barely a second, dropping to my chest and then back up to my eyes. Andrés turned red and kept talking as if nothing had happened. But I already had him. I felt that hot current rising through me, the one that told me the afternoon was going to go exactly the way I wanted.

“Is everything okay?” I asked, pretending innocence.

“Yes, yes, of course,” he replied, nervous.

“It’s just that I saw you looking at me.” I shrugged with a smile. “Don’t worry. I went out without a bra today, by accident. I don’t usually wear one, to be honest. It’s not like I have much to hold up anyway.”

He laughed under his breath, even more nervous, not knowing what to do with himself. And that nervousness of his only turned me on more. Nothing gets me hotter than a calm man slowly losing his composure.

“Since we’re being honest and you know it,” I said, leaning a little toward him, “do you want to see them? I wouldn’t want to leave you wondering what they’re like.”

Andrés swallowed. It took him a second to answer, as if he still couldn’t quite believe what was happening.

“Could I… touch one?” he asked, almost in a whisper.

That question melted me. Without thinking, the words came out on their own.

“Better suck it.”

I realized what I’d said and laughed, covering my mouth.

“Sorry, I’m getting really worked up. But yes, honestly, I’d like you to do that.”

“So I can see them?” he insisted, now with a different look, more determined.

There was nothing better than this: acting shy while dragging him exactly where I wanted him. I took hold of the hem of my blouse and slowly started lifting it, enjoying the way he held his breath.

“I hope you like them,” I said. “They’re natural.”

He stared at them for a moment, as if he didn’t know where to begin.

“Can I touch them and suck them?” he asked.

“Of course.”

“Has anyone sucked them before?”

“Yes,” I admitted, “but I was very drunk and it just happened.”

He furrowed his brow, as if thinking someone had taken advantage of me, and his concern was oddly sweet.

“No, it wasn’t like that,” I clarified. “I took them out and asked for it. I like it. I like it a lot.”

Andrés smiled, more relaxed.

“They’re beautiful,” he said.

Then he leaned in and ran his tongue over my breast. The first touch went through me. He did it slowly, almost respectfully, and when his tongue reached my nipple I was on the verge of getting soaked right there. I closed my eyes and let out my breath. His two-day stubble scraped my skin, and that contrast between the softness of his tongue and the rough graze made my flesh break out in goose bumps.

“I could have you like this all afternoon,” I told him. “You’d make me wet all over.”

“Do you want me to…” he began, and didn’t finish.

“To fuck me? Yes. But on one condition: that in the end you come back here, sucking on my tits.”

“Deal,” he said, and this time he didn’t even hesitate.

***

His hands slid down to my ass and he squeezed me hard. I took my blouse off completely and started unbuttoning my pants. He stood up from the sofa, hesitated for a second, and blurted out:

“Do you want to… put it in yourself?”

“Yes,” I answered, and knelt in front of him.

I slowly pulled down his zipper and took his cock out. It was a good size, neither too big nor too small, just the way I like it. I took it in my hand and felt him tense up.

“Do you want me to suck it?” I asked, looking up at him from below.

“No one’s ever… done that to me,” he confessed.

“You’re going to love it,” I promised.

I took the tip in my mouth and started sucking slowly. I took his hand and put it on my head so he’d feel like he owned the moment. Then I took it out for an instant.

“Push a little, gently, don’t rush,” I told him.

I took him back into my mouth and he started moving carefully, setting a slow rhythm. That’s how you really enjoy it, without rushing. I spent several minutes tasting him, listening to his breath break apart.

“Do you like it?” I asked.

“It’s incredible,” he said, his voice cracking.

“Now that it’s well lubricated, I’m going to take it.”

We sat down on the sofa. I took off my thong, climbed on top of him, and lowered myself onto him slowly. I started moving with slow, deep rides while he watched me with his mouth slightly open. I held my tits, and every time he squeezed them I sped up, rocking my ass on him, looking for that spot that made me tremble.

“Do you want to feel it even better?” I whispered in his ear.

“Yes,” he said, breathless.

I stood up and got off the sofa.

“This will be better on the floor.”

I got down on all fours on the rug and motioned for him to come behind me.

“Put it in,” I told him, “but through here.”

He slid in slowly, carefully, and let out a rough groan.

“You’re amazing,” he murmured. “It’s not my first time, but with you it’s different. You really know what you’re doing.”

“I’ve done it many times,” I confessed between gasps, “but today I wanted it more than ever.”

I felt him tense up, grab my hips hard, and I knew he was close. A few seconds later he came with a long growl, collapsing for a moment onto my back.

***

When he caught his breath, I turned around and sat on the rug in front of him.

“Do you want to rest or move on to my tits?” I asked with a wicked smile.

“Could you… clean me up?” he said, still awkward about asking.

“With pleasure. I can eat you out again.”

I leaned in and took him back into my mouth, unhurried, cleaning him off, staying longer than necessary just because I liked it. He stroked my hair, sighing.

“I love how much you enjoy it,” he said, “but I don’t want to come that fast again.”

“Then it’s time for my tits,” I reminded him.

We went to his bed. I sat against the headboard and he settled over my legs, like a grown child, and started sucking them again, slowly, pampering them. I stroked his head, lost in how good it felt.

“Do you know something I’d like?” I told him softly. “I’d love to be able to breastfeed, for you to be able to really taste it.”

He looked up, surprised but not scared.

“That would be amazing,” he said, “though that’s not possible right now.”

“I know. It was just a fantasy.”

“But if you want,” he added with a shy smile, “I’ll help you figure out a way.”

I laughed and stroked his cheek.

“We won’t do it too often,” I told him. “But if you help me with that, I promise I’ll come give you your daily dose.”

It wasn’t the wildest sex of my life. There were no screams or anything brutal. But it was a hot moment and, at the same time, tender, hard to explain. Watching him there, giving himself over to it, sucking me with his eyes closed, filled me with something that wasn’t just desire.

After a while I sat up.

“I have to go now,” I said, looking for my clothes on the floor.

“Will you come back?” he asked, almost like a kid. “To give me tits again?”

“Yes, my love,” I told him, kissing his forehead. “I’ll come back. And if you help me, I’ll want to even more.”

I dressed slowly, still burning all over, and crossed the hallway back to my place. When I closed the door behind me, I leaned against it, completely happy and aching to do it again.