Muscular Neighbor

The sounds from next door had me squeezing my thighs together.

Every night, our newlywed neighbors kept the entire building awake with their passionate escapades. I'd tried teasing my husband into joining in, but he'd rushed through it, paranoid they might hear us too.

Eventually, I couldn't help but fantasize about the muscular guy next door…

"Oh, baby, faster..."

The second Daniel and I walked into our apartment after work, those breathy moans hit us like a wave. The rhythmic squeak of their bedsprings sent heat flooding straight to my cheeks.

Ever since we'd moved into this cheap, paper-thin complex, those two had been going at it like rabbits.

I glanced at Daniel—his forehead was already glistening with sweat. My thighs pressed together on instinct.

Three years of marriage (plus over a year of dating before that) had dulled the spark between us, leaving behind nothing but bills, exhaustion, and the crushing weight of our mortgage. We'd downgraded to this cramped urban village unit just to stay afloat.

After one awkward, half-hearted attempt, we'd given up entirely.

But our neighbors? They had no such shame. Night after night, they went at it like they were starring in their own private porno.

Still young and easily embarrassed, we tiptoed right back out, opting to wait it out on the street.

The summer air clung thick and humid, the sidewalks nearly empty. Fanning myself with the hem of my shirt, I couldn't shake the wife's desperate cries from my mind. Frustration prickled under my skin—it had been almost two weeks since Daniel and I had last touched each other.

Nearly an hour later, silence finally settled. We crept back inside.

But the faint, musky scent still lingering in the air left us both restless.

A night or two was manageable. But this? This was torture.

Somehow, Daniel must've said something, because they quieted down for a while.

Then, one midnight, I woke to muffled gasps and the unmistakable sound of skin slapping skin.

Wait… were they—?

I turned to find Daniel wide awake beside me.

Before I could speak, his mouth crashed into mine, his body rolling over me. My hand flailed against his stomach—only to find him already hard and straining against his boxers.

Panicked, I mouthed "Not here" between his feverish kisses.

But the relentless sounds next door had lit a fire in him. Between his roaming hands, those sinful moans through the wall, and the heat pooling low in my belly, resistance was useless.

Then his fingers slid inside me, stroking with ruthless precision.

"Mm!"