F*cked By My Hot Neighbor Part 2

Long, deep thrusts that made her body jolt forward each time, her ass cheeks rippling from the impact? Or maybe she was flat on her back on his bed, legs draped over his broad shoulders, her knees bent wide as he drove into her slow and steady, those dark eyes locked on hers, watching every twitch and gasp as he f****d her open, inch by inch, until she was begging without words? I pictured his jaw clenching tight, veins standing out on his neck, that tattooed skin stretched over muscles that didn't waste a single motion. He was the type who stayed in total control, even when he was buried balls-deep inside a woman, taking her apart with precise, unyielding strokes. He'd watch her shatter under him, her body convulsing around his c**k, and he'd just keep that steady rhythm, drawing it out, savoring every broken moan like it was his to claim. A warm ache started low in my belly, spreading out in lazy waves that made my skin prickle. My n*****s hardened against the thin fabric of my tank top, and I shifted on the bed, trying to ignore how my p***y was already clenching, empty and needy. Look, I wasn't some wide-eyed virgin. I'd devoured erotica for years—the gritty, no-holds-barred stuff where the guy pins her down and f***s her raw, knowing every spot that makes her scream. I'd binge-watched porn late at night, learning the exact pitch of a woman's cries when a thick c**k hits just right, when hands spread her thighs and a tongue laps at her c**t until she's dripping and desperate. I knew the sounds of real pleasure, the kind that builds slow and explodes hard. And these sounds leaking through the wall? They were the real deal, raw and unmistakable. She let out another cry next door—high-pitched, ragged, like she was right on the edge and couldn't hold back anymore. The bed frame groaned in a steady rhythm, thump-thump-thump against the shared wall, vibrating right into my room. It made my toes curl into the sheets, my breath catching in my throat. I squeezed my thighs together, feeling the slick heat building between them, my p***y lips swollen and sensitive. God, I was already soaked, the dampness seeping through my underwear. My hand betrayed me, sliding down my stomach before I could talk myself out of it. I tugged the waistband of my panties aside and let my fingers brush over my bare p***y, gasping at how wet I was—slippery folds parting easily, my c**t throbbing under the lightest touch. My cheeks burned with shame, alone in the dark, but that only made the heat coil tighter in my core. I closed my eyes, surrendering to it. No more pretending this wasn't about him. I saw his inked hands clamping down on my hips, fingers digging into my flesh hard enough to bruise, holding me steady as he positioned his c**k at my entrance. That gravelly voice murmuring dirty promises right in my ear—'Gonna f**k you slow, make you feel every inch'—calm and commanding, no rush, just pure intent. I'd be trapped under his heavy body, all solid muscle pressing me into the mattress, unable to move as he pushed inside me, stretching my p***y wide with his thick shaft, his gaze burning into mine, tracking every flicker of vulnerability on my face. He'd go deliberate, pulling back almost all the way before sliding in again, deeper each time, letting me adjust to the fullness while my walls fluttered around him. No frantic pounding—just controlled thrusts that ground against my c**t, building the pressure until I was whimpering, exposed and raw. My fingers circled my c**t slowly, matching that imagined pace, and a soft, shaky breath escaped me. The touch sent sparks up my spine, my hips twitching involuntarily. Her moans next door pitched up, frantic now, mixed with wet slaps of skin on skin and his low grunts. I synced my movements to it without thinking, rubbing firmer, my back bowing off the bed as I clutched the sheets with my free hand, knuckles white. In my mind, his mouth trailed down my neck, teeth grazing my skin, then sucking hard on my collarbone, leaving red marks. Lower still, lips closing around one n****e, tongue flicking slow and teasing while his hand kneaded my breast. I'd confess it was my first time, voice trembling, and his eyes would darken—not with pity, but with a fierce, possessive hunger. Like I'd given him a gift he planned to unwrap carefully, then devour. He'd ease my legs apart wider, his c**k nudging my slick folds, and enter me inch by torturous inch, watching my face contort as he claimed my virginity, making me feel every stretch, every pulse, until pain melted into aching pleasure. I pressed one finger into my p***y, then two, feeling the tight heat grip me, and a quiet gasp tore from my throat. It wasn't enough—not like him—but I curled them inside, stroking that spot that made my thighs quake. Then it came through the wall: his groan, deep and guttural, ripped from somewhere primal. Not controlled this time—raw, like she'd squeezed around his c**k just right, pushing him to the brink. It was real, vulnerable, and it hit me like a punch. That sound undid me. My core clenched hard, the orgasm ripping through without warning, fiercer than I'd braced for. A loud moan burst out—hoarse, uncontrolled—as waves of bliss crashed over me, my p***y spasming around my fingers. I bucked against my hand, riding it out, slickness coating my palm, my body shuddering in helpless release until I was spent, legs trembling. I flopped back onto the pillow, panting, staring blankly at the ceiling as reality seeped in. Oh s**t. Panic iced my veins. Had he heard? That moan had echoed in my quiet room, and these walls... they let everything through. Silence from next door. Then whispers, too muffled to make out, followed by rustles—clothes being grabbed, bodies shifting. The door creaked open, shut with a click. Footsteps in the hall. Measured, not rushed. They paused right outside my door. My heart hammered, loud in my ears. I froze, staring at the door's shadow, convincing myself it was nothing, that sound didn't travel both ways, that he couldn't possibly— Three knocks. Even, deliberate. Steady as his thrusts in my fantasy. I held my breath. His voice filtered through, low and even, laced with something that twisted my gut in knots. 'I know you're awake.' A pause. And then, quieter, with an edge of amusement: "I heard you."