My Neighbor Desired Me Without Knowing My Secret

It was nighttime, but the constant murmur of the waves had something hypnotic about it that helped me breathe. From my window I could see the beach barely lit by the streetlamps along the promenade, a line of yellow light cut out against the darkness of the water. And directly across from me, on the other side of the narrow street, was the building where he lived: my neighbor from the third floor.

We had met in a chat a couple of months earlier. Nothing formal, nothing that had a name yet. Just messages that started late and ended even later, words that grew heavier with every night, a curiosity that kept growing without either of us wanting to stop it. His name was Adrián, or at least that was what he had told me. I had told him almost everything about myself. Almost.

There was one part I preferred to leave between the lines, a truth that could be sensed in my backlit photos but that I had never put into words. I wanted him to discover it himself, that night, with his eyes.

I had spent the whole week imagining that night. At the office, between reports and calls, my mind escaped across the street, to that illuminated window I saw every morning when I closed the curtains. Adrián had no idea that the neighbor across from him was the same person he talked to until three in the morning. That minimal distance, barely a few yards of asphalt between the two buildings, made everything feel even more dizzying.

I got ready slowly, like someone putting together a ritual. Every gesture had its own time. I slipped into the black lace bodysuit I loved feeling against my skin, a garment that didn’t cover so much as suggest. The stockings climbed snugly up my legs, caressing me with their delicate texture. I put on the long, soft brown wavy wig, and the heels that gave me a different kind of confidence, a way of setting my feet on the floor as if the floor belonged to me.

Over it all, a long, tight-fitting dress fell over my body like a sigh. I looked at myself in the mirror longer than necessary. I felt that familiar tingling: nerves, desire, and an urgent need to surrender to whatever came, whatever it might be.

I wrote to him from the bed, my pulse a little quickened:

—I’m ready. Door ajar. If you dare.

It took him less than two minutes. I heard the entrance door downstairs, then his footsteps coming up the stairs with a haste he was trying to disguise. My heart was pounding hard, but it wasn’t fear. It was pure anticipation, the kind that dries out your mouth and sets the rest of you on fire.

The door opened slowly.

And there he was. Tall, with an intense gaze and that crooked smile I already knew from his photos but that carried so much more weight in person. He stayed in the doorway for a moment, taking in the dimness of the living room, the low lights, my silhouette waiting for him beside the table.

At first he said nothing. He simply looked me up and down, slowly, as if undressing every inch of me with his eyes before touching anything.

I took a step toward him and let the dress slide from my shoulders. It fell to the floor with a whisper of fabric. I stood before him wearing only the lace, the stockings, and the heels, holding his gaze. The bodysuit pressed against my crotch, and beneath the black fabric, the bulge of my hard, tense cock was clearly outlined, stiff from hours of thinking about that moment.

His gaze lowered slowly, stopping at every curve, at the lace that promised more than it concealed, at that unmistakable outline drawn between my thighs. I watched him swallow. I watched his jaw tighten. And above all, I saw the swelling beginning to form in his pants, which he made no attempt to hide.

—So… it was you —he said at last, his voice deep, almost hoarse.

—It’s me —I answered softly—. Does it scare you?

He slowly shook his head and ran his tongue over his lip. He smiled.

—It turns me on like crazy, fuck.

I said nothing more. With a provocative smile, I turned my back on him and walked toward the picture window overlooking the sea. The curtains swayed slightly in the breeze, and I knew exactly what he could see: my figure outlined against the faint streetlight, my body wrapped in lingerie, the fall of the bodysuit between my stockings, and the discreet gleam of my heels on the parquet floor. And my ass, barely covered by the strip of lace thong, moving in rhythm with my hips.

I heard him coming closer. His slow footsteps. His breathing, already faster.

When I felt his hand on my waist, I closed my eyes. His touch was firm but careful, as though he were measuring how far he dared to go. He turned me gently, and his lips brushed mine for barely a second before moving down my neck. His other hand went straight to my crotch and squeezed me through the lace, feeling the hard bulge I had hidden there.

—Fuck, look how hard you are —he murmured against my ear—. Hard as a rock.

I let out a broken moan as he explored me with a mixture of restrained hunger and something resembling adoration. The lace tightened beneath his fingers. The stockings creaked faintly each time his hand slid along my thigh. With two fingers he moved the thong fabric aside and pulled my cock into the open. The tip was gleaming, soaked with precum, and he didn’t hesitate: he wrapped his whole hand around my cock and began to jerk me off slowly, firmly, looking into my eyes.

—You’re gorgeous like this —he murmured—. In heels, in lace, with this hard cock for me. You have no idea how much I’ve fantasized about this moment.

My legs trembled. I found his fly and pulled it down. I reached inside and drew his cock out: thick, hot, pulsing in my palm. We stayed that way for a second, each of us holding the other’s cock, looking at each other, breathing hard, our foreheads almost touching.

—Suck me —I asked, without breaking eye contact.

—You first, slut —he replied with a half-smile—. I want to see you on your knees.

I went down without hesitation. The carpet softened the impact, and I ended up kneeling in front of him, the wig falling over my shoulders and my mouth at exactly the right height. I pulled his pants down to his thighs, pushed aside his boxers, and there it was, thick and taut, the vein standing out beneath the skin. I ran my tongue from his balls to the tip, very slowly, and drew a long moan from him.

—Fuck, just like that, keep going —he groaned, placing a hand on the back of my head.

I opened my mouth wide and took him all the way in, until I felt him hit the back of my throat. My eyes watered, but I didn’t pull away. I began sucking him rhythmically, moving up and down, licking the head each time I reached the top, swallowing around his cock when I took him all the way down. He held my hair with both hands and began fucking my mouth, thrusting slowly at first, then harder. I moaned with my mouth full, drooling, letting strands of saliva fall over his balls.

—You suck it so well, bitch… like that… swallow it all —he panted between thrusts.

I pulled my cock from his mouth for a moment to breathe and licked his balls, one first, then the other, taking them carefully into my mouth while I stroked his cock with my hand. He let out an animal growl and forced me to rise again. I sucked him once more, deep and eagerly, until I felt his whole body tense and he pulled me away by the hair.

—Stop, stop… not yet. Stand up. Against the wall.

I leaned against the wall beside the picture window while his hands moved downward unhurriedly. The sea continued breathing outside, oblivious to everything, and I already felt completely his.

I spread my legs slightly. I could feel the lace clinging to my skin, his warm breath traveling over my bare back. With one hand he held me by the hip; with the other he moved the edge of the bodysuit aside, exposing my ass. He spit on his fingers and ran them over my asshole, massaging me in circles, pushing one finger inside first, then two, slowly opening me.

—You’re so tight… I’m going to wreck this ass —he whispered.

—Yes… do it… fuck me already —I answered in a hoarse voice.

He withdrew his fingers, and I felt his thick head press against my entrance. He pushed just slightly, rubbing without fully advancing, playing with the boundary. He made me wait deliberately while he kissed my neck and gripped my waist with firm fingers.

—Do you want it? Ask me for it.

—Put it in, please… put all of it in me.

Then, with one measured movement, he pressed me a little harder against the wall and moved forward. I felt him opening me slowly, firmly, each millimeter forcing me to yield, to surrender a little more to him. His cock entered me, breaking me open, stretching me, until his balls struck my buttocks. I had to grip the window frame to keep my knees from buckling.

—Fuck… what an ass you have… —he growled against my nape, pausing for a moment to let me breathe.

I moaned, unable and unwilling to stop myself. The pleasure was intense, threaded through with exactly the right sting to remind me what was happening, how deeply he was taking me. My cock, trapped between my belly and the wall, dripped precum onto the parquet. And still I wanted all of him.

His movements began slowly and deeply, setting a patient rhythm. Each one pushed me against the wall, against his chest, against the feeling of belonging entirely to him. He pulled almost all the way out and then sank back in to the hilt, drawing a moan from me with every thrust. He held me gently by the hair, pulling me back just slightly, while he buried himself with a force that made my knees bend.

—That’s it, take me… harder —I begged him.

He sped up. The sound of his hips striking my ass filled the living room, mingling with the wet slap of saliva and our ragged breathing. He reached around me and grabbed my cock. He began jerking me off at the same rhythm he fucked me, synchronized: every thrust a pull, every pull a thrust. I no longer knew whether I was moaning because of what I felt inside or because of what I felt in his fist.

My fingernails dug into the cold plaster. The sea continued roaring outside, as if accompanying every thrust with its own rhythm.

—Look at you —he panted—. You love having your ass fucked, don’t you, slut?

—Yes… don’t stop… more… —I managed to say.

And he didn’t stop. He took me hungrily, with desire, with that strange blend of lust and tenderness that moves not only through your body but somewhere deeper, in a place with no name. And I, my makeup beginning to run with sweat, moaned and surrendered and enjoyed myself as I had rarely done in my life.

He pulled my cock out abruptly, spun me around, and lifted one of my legs, resting it on his hip. Without saying anything, he pushed his cock into me again and continued thrusting from the front, against the wall, now looking into my eyes. He licked my mouth, bit my lip, licked my neck while driving his cock all the way inside me.

—I want to see your face when you come —he murmured.

He masturbated me with his right hand while fucking me with his hips. I felt that familiar heat rising from my feet, tightening my belly, tensing my whole body. He squeezed me harder and sped up, thrusting furiously, and I exploded. My cum burst out in thick, hot streams against his hand, my own belly, and the wall. I screamed something that wasn’t a word, something animal. He kept fucking me throughout my orgasm, drawing it out, never stopping his work on my cock, which continued spitting until the last drop.

—Jesus… you came with me inside you… —he panted.

His thrusts grew faster, more urgent. Every time he sank into me, I felt his body tremble against mine. I wasn’t thinking anymore, only moaning, completely surrendered, feeling everything in me shudder with every movement of his hips.

Until he stopped abruptly. Panting. Holding me with both hands.

—Turn around. On your knees. I want to finish on your face.

I obeyed, my legs trembling. I slid down until I was kneeling in front of him, my body still vibrating inside, semen still trickling down my belly. He looked down at me with an intensity that ran along my spine, and I held his gaze, waiting, my mouth open and my tongue out.

I brought him slowly to my mouth, first running my tongue over him, cleaning off my own fluids, letting him slip between my lips while he breathed unevenly and held the back of my neck with one hand. I closed my lips around him and began moving rhythmically, up and down, feeling him grow more tense with every pass. I pulled his cock out and licked the tip, circling it with my tongue, looking up at him with my eyes wide open.

—God… like that… don’t stop —he murmured—. Take all of it, slut.

I swallowed him all the way again. His hips moved on their own, setting the rhythm of my lips. I looked up at him from below, mouth open and makeup smeared, completely surrendered to his pleasure and my own, because watching him lose control aroused me as much as any caress. I grabbed his balls with one hand and squeezed them gently, while with the other I stroked the base of his cock in time with my mouth.

—I’m coming… fuck… I’m coming —he growled.

A sudden tremor ran through his body. He pulled away from my mouth with a hoarse moan and began masturbating in front of my face. The first jet hit my forehead and ran down the bridge of my nose. The second landed on my cheek, hot and thick. The third filled my parted lips and tongue. I looked at him without closing my eyes, tasting and swallowing what fell into my mouth, letting the rest run over my chin and down to my tits beneath the lace.

—What a sight… —he murmured between pants, almost voiceless—. You can’t imagine.

I slowly licked my lips, smiling provocatively, gathering what remained on my cheek with one finger and bringing it to my mouth, while my body still trembled from the current that had yet to subside.

He watched me from above for a long moment, straightening his clothes without taking his eyes off me.

—You have no idea how incredible that was —he said, buttoning his pants—. See you soon.

And without adding anything else, he left. I heard the door close, then his footsteps descending the stairs, more slowly than when he had climbed them.

I stayed there, kneeling in the middle of the living room. The bodysuit disarranged, clinging to my sweaty skin. The stockings fallen to my thighs. My makeup had drawn shadows beneath my eyes and a blurred line toward the corner of my mouth. The remnants of his cum still warm on my face.

Outside, the sea continued breaking against the sand, indifferent, eternal. I stood slowly, my legs still weak, and walked to the picture window. The light in his apartment came on across the street. I imagined him looking this way, toward my silhouette outlined against the darkness, wondering the same thing I was wondering.

That night I felt more desired, more seen, and more myself than I had in a long time. I smiled in the half-light, with his taste still on my lips.

And I knew, as I drew the curtain, that “see you soon” had not been a goodbye.