Sparks Ignite in the Neighbor's Bed

Hana stood in the middle of her sunlit kitchen, bare feet cool against the tile, staring at the empty space where Victor’s coffee maker used to sit. Forty-two years old, recently divorced, and the silence of the house still felt like a physical weight. She tugged the thin tank top down over her full breasts, the soft cotton doing little to hide the hard points of her nipples in the morning chill. Her yoga pants clung to the generous curve of her ass and the soft swell of her pale thighs. Real-estate listings sat untouched on the counter. She needed to move on. She needed something.

The doorbell rang sharp and sudden.

She padded over and pulled the door open. Andre filled the frame—twenty-four, Black, built like the personal trainer he was. Six-two of dense muscle under a tight gray T-shirt that stretched across his chest and shoulders. Dark skin gleamed with a light sheen of sweat from his morning run. Sweatpants hung low on his narrow hips. His eyes dropped immediately, slow and open, taking in the way her tits pushed against the thin fabric, the way her hips flared.

“Hey, Hana.” His voice was deep, rough. “Sorry to bother you. My drill’s dead and I’m hanging shelves. Mind if I borrow yours?”

She stepped aside, pulse already kicking harder. “Come in. It’s in the garage. I barely use the damn thing.”

He moved past her, close enough that she caught the clean scent of his skin mixed with faint cologne. The door clicked shut. In the kitchen he leaned against the island, arms folded, biceps flexing. Hana opened a drawer just to give her hands something to do, then turned and caught him staring again—openly, hungrily—at the thick outline of her pussy lips pressed against the yoga pants.

“You’ve been looking at me like that for weeks,” she said, voice low. No point pretending.

Andre didn’t smile. He just straightened, the air between them suddenly electric. “Yeah. I have. Every time you water those plants in that little skirt, or when you bend over to get the mail. You’re fucking stacked, Hana. That pale skin, those tits, that ass. I jerk off thinking about stretching that married—sorry. Divorced—MILF pussy.”

Heat flooded her cheeks and raced straight down between her legs. She felt herself get wet instantly, a slick warmth soaking into the crotch of her pants. “Jesus. You’re twenty-four.”

“And you’re forty-two and look like you need to get fucked hard.” He took one step closer. “I see the way you watch me when I’m out lifting. You want this dark dick. Don’t bullshit me.”

Hana’s breath caught. Her best friend Rosa would lose her mind if she knew—Rosa who still brought over wine and talked about “taking time” and “finding someone age-appropriate.” Rosa who had no idea Hana lay awake at night imagining Andre’s heavy body pinning her down, his thick cock splitting her open.

“I do,” she whispered. The admission felt filthy and perfect. “I crave it. Your body. That powerful fucking body. I want to feel how hard you can slam into me.”

Andre’s nostrils flared. He closed the last distance, towering over her. One big hand landed on the counter beside her hip, boxing her in. The other rose and cupped her breast through the tank top, thumb dragging slow across the nipple until it stiffened fully. Hana arched into the touch with a soft sound.

“These are real,” he muttered, almost to himself. “Heavy. Soft. I’ve wanted my mouth on them since the day you moved in.” He squeezed harder, then slid his hand down her stomach and cupped her mound through the yoga pants. His fingers pressed firmly, finding the damp heat. “Fuck. You’re soaked already.”

“Andre—”

“Tell me again. Out loud. What you want.”

She looked up into his dark eyes, heart hammering. “I want your cock. I want you to stretch my pussy until I can’t walk straight. I want that young, hard body wrecking me in the middle of the day while the whole neighborhood thinks I’m just the lonely divorced lady next door.”

His cock was already tenting the front of his sweatpants, thick and obvious. He ground it once against her hip so she could feel the size of him. “Rosa ever come over unannounced?”

“Sometimes. She has a key.”

“Then we lock the doors.” He leaned down, mouth brushing her ear. “I’m not leaving until I’ve been inside you. You good with that?”

“Yes.” The word came out raw. “God, yes.”

Andre’s hand slipped under the waistband of her pants, thick fingers sliding over bare, shaved skin and straight into the slick folds of her cunt. Two fingers pushed into her without warning, stretching her open. Hana gasped and clutched his forearm, feeling the dense muscle flex as he curled those fingers and rubbed firm against her front wall.

“Tight,” he growled. “Gonna feel so fucking good wrapped around my dick.” He pumped slowly, wet sounds filling the quiet kitchen. “You been touching yourself thinking about me?”

“Every night,” she admitted, hips rocking onto his hand. “I put my vibrator on my clit and imagine it’s you forcing me open.”

He added a third finger. The stretch burned sweet. Hana’s head fell back against the cabinet. Andre’s mouth found her throat, teeth scraping, then sucking hard enough to leave a mark. His free hand yanked her tank top up, freeing her heavy breasts. He bent and took one stiff nipple into his mouth, sucking deep while his fingers fucked her steady and deep.

Hana’s hands shoved under his T-shirt, palms sliding over hot, smooth skin and the hard ridges of his abs. She pushed the shirt up; he broke away long enough to strip it off. His chest was broad, dark nipples tight, shoulders thick with muscle that flexed as he went back to her tits. She dragged her nails down his back and felt him shudder.

“Pants off,” he ordered against her skin.

She shoved the yoga pants and panties down together. They tangled at her ankles. Andre spun her, bent her forward over the island so her breasts flattened against the cool granite, ass presented. He dropped to his knees behind her. Big hands spread her cheeks. Then his tongue—hot, flat, filthy—dragged from her dripping cunt up over her asshole and back down. He licked her like he was starving, long strokes, then pointed tongue spearing into her hole.

Hana moaned loud, bare feet sliding apart for more. “Fuck—Andre—your mouth—”

He ate her messily, noisily, until her thighs shook. Then he stood, shoved his sweatpants down. His cock sprang free—long, thick, dark, the head already glistening. He fisted it once, smearing precome, and rubbed the fat head up and down her slit, coating himself in her wetness.

“Last chance,” he said, voice rough. “You want this?”

“Put it in me. Please. Stretch me.”

He pushed forward. The broad head forced her open, slow and relentless. Hana cried out at the burn, the perfect thick invasion. Inch after inch he fed into her until his hips met her ass and she was completely full, stuffed fuller than she had been in years. Andre held still, breathing hard, hands gripping her waist hard enough to bruise.

“Jesus Christ, Hana. Your pussy’s gripping me like it doesn’t want to let go.”

She pushed back, needing friction. “Move. Fuck me.”

He pulled almost all the way out and slammed home. The wet slap of skin on skin cracked through the kitchen. He set a hard, deep rhythm immediately, fucking her like he’d been holding back for weeks—because he had. Every thrust dragged over her g-spot. Her tits swayed and bounced against the counter. Andre reached around, found her clit, and rubbed tight circles while he pounded her.

“Look at this pale ass taking my black cock,” he rasped. “Rosa would lose her fucking mind if she walked in and saw her proper friend getting railed by the neighbor.”

The dirty thought only made Hana wetter. She clenched around him. “Don’t stop. Harder.”

He gave it to her harder. The island creaked. Sweat slicked both their bodies. Andre hooked an arm under her, hauled her upright so her back was flush to his chest, cock still buried deep, and kept thrusting up into her. One hand mauled her breast; the other stayed on her clit. His mouth was at her ear.

“Gonna come inside this pussy the second you let me. You on birth control?”

“Yes—fuck—yes, fill me—”

He growled and fucked her through the first orgasm that crashed over her. Hana’s cunt locked down, pulsing hard around his thickness. Her knees nearly gave out. Andre held her up and kept going, chasing his own, the wet filthy sounds of their bodies louder than anything else in the house.

Then the sound of a key in the front door lock cut through everything.

Both of them froze.

Rosa’s cheerful voice floated in from the entryway. “Hana? I brought lattes and that listing you wanted! Hope you’re decent—”

Andre’s cock was still buried to the hilt inside Hana’s fluttering, freshly fucked cunt. Her pants were around her ankles. His T-shirt was on the floor. The kitchen island was smeared with her juices. Neither of them could move without making noise. The footsteps were already coming down the short hall toward the kitchen.

Hana’s eyes met Andre’s over her shoulder, wide with panic and leftover lust. His hand tightened on her hip. He didn’t pull out.

Andre’s cock was still buried to the hilt inside Hana’s fluttering, freshly fucked cunt. Her pants were around her ankles. His T-shirt was on the floor. The kitchen island was smeared with her juices. Neither of them could move without making noise. The footsteps were already coming down the short hall toward the kitchen.

Hana’s eyes met Andre’s over her shoulder, wide with panic and leftover lust. His hand tightened on her hip. He didn’t pull out.

Rosa’s cheerful voice floated closer. “Hana? You home? The lattes are still hot—”

Andre yanked free with a wet sound that made Hana bite her lip hard enough to taste copper. Thick cum and her own slick immediately painted the insides of her thighs. He shoved his cock back into his sweatpants, the fat outline still obvious, and scooped his T-shirt off the floor in one fluid motion. Hana yanked her yoga pants up, the soaked crotch clinging to her shaved pussy like a filthy second skin. Her tank top was still rucked above her tits. She yanked it down just as Rosa’s shadow hit the doorway.

Andre vanished into the half-open pantry like smoke, door nearly closed, breathing hard in the dark among the cans and flour.

Rosa stepped into the kitchen, two cardboard cups in hand, keys dangling from one finger. Thirty-eight, sharp bob, bright eyes that missed nothing. She stopped dead. “Jesus, you look wrecked. Face flushed, hair a mess—were you working out?”

Hana’s pulse hammered in her clit. She could still feel the stretch, the ghost of Andre’s thick black cock splitting her open. Cum leaked down her thigh inside the pants. “Yeah. Yoga. Just finished. You scared the shit out of me.”

Rosa set the cups on the island—right on the wet smear Hana hadn’t wiped—and wrinkled her nose. “Smells like… sex in here. Or am I losing it?”

“Lotion,” Hana lied too fast. “New body oil. Coconut.” She grabbed a dish towel and casually dragged it over the granite, heart slamming. “What’s the listing?”

Rosa pulled a folder from under her arm, but her gaze kept snagging on Hana’s stiff nipples, the faint red mark Andre’s mouth had left on her throat. “The one on Maple. Three-bed. You sure you’re okay? You’re shaking.”

“Fine. Caffeine withdrawal.” Hana took a latte just to occupy her hands. The first sip burned. Behind the pantry slats she knew Andre was watching, cock still hard, listening to every word. The thought made fresh wetness flood her. “Leave it on the counter. I’ll look later. I was about to shower.”

Rosa lingered, sipping her own drink, chatty about the open house next weekend, about how Hana needed to “get back out there” with someone age-appropriate. Every second stretched like wire. Hana’s empty cunt clenched around nothing, still open from the brutal pounding, dripping down her leg. She crossed her ankles tighter.

Finally Rosa checked her phone. “Shit, showing in twenty. Lock up behind me. And text me tonight—we’re finishing that bottle.”

The front door clicked. The deadbolt turned. Silence crashed back.

Hana barely had time to exhale before the pantry door swung open. Andre stepped out, shirt still off, sweatpants tented obscenely, dark skin gleaming. He crossed the kitchen in two strides, hauled her against his hard chest by the waist, and crushed his mouth to hers. The kiss was all teeth and tongue and leftover adrenaline. She tasted herself on him from earlier. His thick cock ground against her soft belly through the fabric.

“Almost got us both fucked,” he growled against her lips. “Your friend walks in on that tight white pussy stuffed full of my dick and the whole neighborhood knows.”

Hana’s hands slid up the dense muscle of his back, nails digging in. “I almost came again just from the fear. I’m still dripping down my legs.”

He pulled back just enough to look at her, eyes black with hunger. “You’ve been watching me lift out back for weeks. Shirt off, sweat running down my chest. Tell me what it does to you.”

The teasing edge in his voice cracked something open. Heat flooded her face and her cunt at the same time. “I get soaked. Every single time. I stand at the kitchen window with my hand in my pants rubbing my clit while you do those pull-ups. Your arms, that V at your hips—I come thinking about you forcing that big cock into me until I can’t close my legs.”

Andre’s answering groan vibrated through her tits. He yanked her harder against the solid wall of his chest, one hand fisting her ass, the other sliding up to squeeze a heavy breast. “I’m gonna stretch that tight white pussy until it takes every inch without complaining. Gonna pin you to the mattress and fuck you so deep you feel me in your stomach. Then I’m gonna pull out just to watch it gape and drip before I shove back in. You want that?”

“Yes.” The word tore out of her raw and immediate. “Fuck yes. Consent one hundred percent. Take me upstairs right now and do exactly that.”

They stumbled out of the kitchen tangled together, hungry kisses never breaking. Hana’s bare feet slapped the hardwood; Andre’s hands were everywhere—under her tank yanking it over her head so her full tits bounced free, down the back of her pants cupping bare cheeks and spreading them. She shoved at his sweatpants until his cock sprang out heavy and dark, the fat head already shining with precome and her earlier juices. She wrapped both hands around it as they hit the stairs, stroking the thick vein-ridged length, feeling it pulse.

Halfway up he spun her, pressed her back to the wall, and shoved two fingers straight into her still-slick cunt. “Still open from earlier. Still so fucking wet for this young black dick.” He curled them hard against her front wall until her knees buckled. “Bedroom. Now.”

They crashed through her bedroom door. Clothes hit the floor in frantic piles—her yoga pants kicked away soaked, his sweats tangled around one ankle. Naked, they fell onto the unmade queen bed in a tangle of pale and dark limbs. Andre’s muscular body covered hers completely, the weight of him pinning her deliciously. His mouth attacked her throat, her collarbone, then lower, sucking a stiff pink nipple deep while his free hand shoved her thighs wide.

Hana arched, fingers twisting in the short curls on his head. “Don’t tease. I need it again. Need you stretching me.”

He rose over her, knees spreading her wider, and rubbed that broad cockhead up and down her dripping slit. “Look at this pretty pink hole. Gonna ruin it for anything smaller.” With clear, enthusiastic consent already ringing in both their ears, he pushed. The thick head forced her open again, the burn sweeter the second time, her cunt swallowing him inch by brutal inch until his hips slammed flush to hers and she was stuffed past full.

“Fuck—Andre—”

He didn’t give her time to adjust. He hooked her knees over his elbows, folded her nearly in half, and started pounding—long, deep, filthy strokes that made the headboard slam the wall. Every thrust dragged over her g-spot; every withdrawal left her clenching at emptiness before he buried himself again. The wet slap of his heavy balls against her ass filled the room. Sweat sheened his dark chest and dripped onto her bouncing tits.

“This what you imagined while you watched me?” he rasped, voice wrecked. “Your married—divorced—MILF pussy getting split on the neighbor’s cock in the middle of the day?”

“Yes—harder—don’t stop—” Hana’s nails raked down his flexing back. She could feel every ridge, every pulse, the way her stretched walls fluttered around the invasion. Another orgasm built fast, coiling low and vicious. “Gonna come on it—fill me when I do—”

Andre dropped lower, chest to breasts, mouth at her ear, hips never slowing. “Come all over this dick so I can feel it milk me. Then I’m flipping you and going again until you can’t walk to that open house.”

Her climax ripped through her without warning—cunt locking down in hard rhythmic pulses, juices squirting around his driving shaft. She cried out loud enough the neighbors might hear. Andre fucked her straight through it, chasing his own, the bedframe groaning under the assault.

He was still buried deep, still hard, still moving, when her phone lit up on the nightstand with Rosa’s name and a text preview that made Hana’s blood freeze even as pleasure kept sparking:

“Forgot my keys at your place. Turning around. Be there in five. Don’t make me use the spare again 😘”

Andre’s hips never stopped. Even as the phone screen glowed with Rosa’s warning, he drove deep into Hana’s clenched cunt, the wet slap of his heavy balls against her ass drowning out the soft buzz of the incoming text. Hana’s eyes flicked to the nightstand, panic spiking through the pleasure, but the thick black cock stretching her open made coherent thought impossible. Five minutes. That was all they had before her best friend walked back through the door with the spare key.

“Andre—Rosa—” she gasped, nails digging into his flexing shoulders.

He glanced at the phone, growled low, and pulled free with a filthy wet sound. Cum and her slick coated his shaft. Without a word he scooped her up under the thighs, lifted her bodily as if she weighed nothing, and dropped her higher on the bed so her head hit the pillows. “Then we make every second count.” He shoved her knees wide, settled between them on his stomach, and buried his face in her dripping pussy.

His thick tongue dragged long and slow from her asshole up through the swollen folds, collecting every drop of their mixed juices before spearing deep into her hole. Hana cried out, back arching off the mattress. Andre licked her like a man starving—broad flat strokes that flattened her clit, then pointed thrusts that fucked into her cunt, then slow, deliberate swirls that circled the sensitive bud until her thighs trembled around his head. He sucked her clit between his lips and flicked it hard with the tip of his tongue while two thick fingers slid back inside her, curling against the spot that made her see stars.

“Fuck—your mouth—Andre, I’m—” The orgasm slammed into her without buildup. Her cunt spasmed hard around his fingers, clear slick gushing against his chin as she came with a broken moan, hips bucking helplessly against his face. He kept licking through it, greedy, drinking her down, tongue never stopping until her cries turned to whimpers and her legs went slack.

The second her climax faded he rose up on his knees. Hana scrambled off the bed and dropped to the floor between his spread thighs, pale hands already reaching for the massive black cock that jutted up against his abs, glistening with her cream. She wrapped both fists around the thick base and opened wide, taking the fat head onto her tongue. Saliva flooded her mouth immediately. She sank down, lips stretching obscenely around the dark shaft, choking herself on him until her nose pressed into the tight curls at his root. Spit ran in messy strings down her chin and onto her heavy tits as she bobbed faster, gagging wetly every time the broad head punched the back of her throat.

“That’s it—worship that dick,” Andre rasped, one big hand fisting her hair, guiding her but never forcing. “Look at you, forty-two-year-old MILF choking on young black cock like you’ve been waiting years for it.” Hana moaned around him, the vibration making his hips jerk. She pulled off just long enough to lick sloppy stripes up the underside, tongue swirling the flared ridge, then deep-throated him again until tears pricked her eyes and her throat convulsed. Precome and spit coated her face. She kept going—messy, eager, desperate—until he hauled her up by the arms.

He spun her, bent her face-down over the edge of the mattress, and kicked her knees apart. The broad head of his cock found her soaked entrance and slammed home in one brutal thrust that punched the air from her lungs. Hana screamed into the sheets. Andre gripped her hips hard enough to bruise and started fucking her doggy-style with deep, powerful strokes that made her ass ripple and her tits swing beneath her.

“Harder,” she moaned, pushing back to meet every slam. “Fuck me harder—ruin this pussy—”

He gave it to her. The bedframe slammed the wall in a relentless rhythm. His dark hands spread her pale cheeks so he could watch his thick black cock disappear into her pink hole over and over, stretching her wide, her cream frothing white around the shaft. Sweat dripped from his chest onto her back. Every thrust bottomed out against her cervix; every withdrawal left her empty and aching before he buried himself again. Hana’s moans turned filthy and continuous—“Yes, yes, fuck your white neighbor harder, fill me, stretch me”—until her second orgasm ripped through her, cunt locking down and milking him in hard pulses while he kept pounding without mercy.

Andre pulled free, flipped her onto her back like she weighed nothing, and climbed between her thighs. He hooked her knees over his shoulders, pinned her legs back until she was nearly folded in half, and drove back into her dripping cunt in one smooth, ruthless stroke. Missionary like this left her completely open, completely at his mercy. He braced on powerful arms and pounded her relentlessly, hips pistoning, the wet filthy sound of skin on skin filling the bedroom. His heavy balls slapped her ass. His dark chest rubbed against her bouncing pale tits. Hana’s hands scrambled for purchase on his sweat-slick back, nails raking down the dense muscle as another climax coiled tight and vicious in her belly.

“Look at this,” he growled against her mouth, fucking her through the mattress. “Forty-two-year-old divorced MILF taking every inch of her twenty-four-year-old neighbor’s black dick in the middle of the day. Your tight white pussy was made for this.” He shifted angle, grinding deep against her clit on every thrust, and Hana shattered. Her scream tore free as her cunt convulsed wildly around him, squirting fresh slick that soaked the sheets beneath them. Andre never slowed. He pinned her harder, lost in the raw interracial lust, slamming into her spasming hole like he wanted to crawl inside her skin, both of them drowning in the heat and the stretch and the forbidden daytime filth of it.

The front door lock clicked downstairs.

Rosa’s voice floated up the stairwell, bright and unsuspecting. “Hana? Keys were right where I left them in the car after all—but I brought the good wine this time. You upstairs?”

Andre’s hips never stopped. Even as Rosa’s cheerful call floated up the stairs, he drove that thick black cock deep into Hana’s clenched cunt, the wet slap of his heavy balls against her ass drowning out the soft pad of footsteps already moving through the downstairs hall. Hana’s eyes flew wide, panic spiking through the raw pleasure, but the stretch of him forcing her open made coherent thought nearly impossible. She was still folded nearly in half, knees hooked over his shoulders, pale thighs trembling as he pinned her to the mattress and fucked her like the clock had already run out.

“She’s inside,” Hana gasped, nails raking down the dense muscle of his back. “Andre—fuck—she’s coming up—”

He growled low against her mouth, never pulling free, and shifted the angle so every brutal thrust ground his pubic bone against her swollen clit. “Then come on this dick one more time while you still can. Milk me. Let that tight white pussy pull every drop out of me.” His dark hands locked under her hips, lifting her ass off the sheets so he could slam even deeper, the fat head punching against her cervix on every stroke. Sweat dripped from his chest onto her bouncing tits; the headboard cracked against the wall in a frantic rhythm that had to be audible downstairs.

Hana’s cunt fluttered wildly around him. She could still taste herself on his tongue from earlier, still feel the ghost of his fingers and his mouth and the first frantic kitchen fucking that had left her dripping. Now the bed reeked of sex—sharp, wet, unmistakable. Her full breasts slapped together with each thrust; her nipples were dark and stiff from his mouth. She locked her ankles behind his neck and shoved back to meet him, the burn of the stretch pure filth and need.

“Harder,” she whispered, voice cracked. “If she’s gonna catch us, make it worth it. Stretch me open. Ruin me for anyone else.”

Andre gave it to her. He dropped lower, chest crushing her tits, mouth at her ear, hips pistoning without mercy. The wet filthy sound of her cream frothing around his shaft filled the room. “Forty-two-year-old divorced MILF taking every inch of her twenty-four-year-old neighbor’s black cock in the middle of the day. Look at this pretty pink hole stretched wide around me. You’re gushing down my balls. Tell me how bad you want it.”

“I want it,” Hana moaned, eyes rolling. “I want you to flood me. I want that big load pumping so deep I taste it. Don’t pull out—don’t you fucking dare pull out—”

Rosa’s voice drifted closer, still bright, still unsuspecting, now halfway up the stairs. “Hana? You up here? The wine’s breathing downstairs. I grabbed that Malbec you like. Hope you’re decent—or not. I can wait if you’re in the shower!”

Andre’s cock throbbed hard inside her at the sound. He didn’t slow. If anything he fucked her deeper, rolling his hips so the thick vein-ridged shaft dragged over every sensitive ridge of her walls. Hana’s orgasm coiled vicious and low; she could feel it building like a storm, her cunt already starting to lock down in warning pulses. She clamped a hand over her own mouth to muffle the cry, but Andre peeled her fingers away and replaced them with his own, two thick digits sliding between her lips so she could suck them while he pounded her.

“Quiet,” he rasped, though the bedframe was already advertising everything. “Or don’t. Let her hear how good this young dick wrecks her best friend’s married—divorced—pussy.” He pulled almost all the way out until only the fat head stretched her entrance, then slammed home to the root in one savage thrust that punched a broken sound out of her throat. “Feel that? That’s me about to paint your insides white. You’re gonna walk funny for a week. Every time you sit down at that open house you’ll feel me leaking out of you.”

Hana’s heels dug into his shoulders. Her free hand scrambled for the sheets, fisting them white-knuckled as another climax ripped through her without warning. Her cunt spasmed hard, rhythmic, milking him in greedy waves; clear slick squirted around his driving shaft and soaked the already ruined bedding. She came with a choked sob around his fingers, walls fluttering and clutching, trying to suck him deeper even as her body shook apart.

Andre fucked her straight through it, chasing his own, the muscles in his ass and thighs flexing with every powerful stroke. Sweat sheened his dark skin; his jaw was tight, eyes nearly black with the need to finish. He hooked her knees higher, folding her tighter, and drove into her spasming hole like he wanted to live there.

“Gonna fill you,” he snarled against her lips, voice raw and wrecked. “Right fucking now. This tight white pussy is about to get the biggest load of my life. I’m gonna flood that married cunt until it’s dripping down your thighs and you can’t hide it. Beg me for it. Tell me you want every drop.”

“Do it,” Hana begged, the words tumbling out broken and filthy, panic and lust tangled so tight she couldn’t separate them. “Flood me—please—pump it all in me—fill your neighbor’s pussy with that thick black cum until I can’t take anymore. I want it leaking out of me when she walks in. Give it to me, Andre, fucking give it—”

His cock swelled even thicker inside her. His balls drew up tight against her ass. He planted one hand beside her head, the other gripping her hip hard enough to leave perfect fingerprints, and started the final, brutal rhythm—short, deep, punishing thrusts that bottomed out every time. “Here it comes. Take it. Take every fucking drop—”

Rosa’s footsteps hit the upstairs hallway. Her voice was right outside the bedroom door now, bright and close and inevitable. “Hana? You in the bedroom? I’m coming in—hope you don’t mind the spare key again—”

The doorknob turned.