Raw Fuck in the Trash Room: My Drunk Night with the Neighbor

It’s 11 PM. I’ve hammered half a bottle of 16-year-old whisky, 45% proof. Head spinning. No more sounds from next door for a week. Those fuckers Beledni and Irina finally back. Their old BMW smoked up the street earlier. My pussy throbs thinking of his massive cock I’ve spied pounding her through thin walls. Trash night. Elevator’s busted again. Fuck it. I stumble out in my mid-thigh night tee, panties clinging damp, sneakers on. Door slams half-shut behind me.

Four floors down. Legs wobble like jelly. Alcohol fire in veins. Stairs reek of piss. Make it to the lobby alive. Garbage room stinks like death—rotting food, shit, vomit. Gag hits hard. Dump my bag, bolt out, door creaking shut. Voices echo near entrance. Freeze in shadows.

The Approach: Tension Builds in the Dark

Caroline, chubby brunette from third floor, pinned against wall. Her BF—scrawny dealer prick, five years older—knee jammed between her thick thighs. Chemise yanked open, fat tits spilling over bra cups. He gropes rough, tongue slobbering her neck. ‘C’mon, your tits are fucking huge. Let me.’ She whines, ‘No, not here. Parents waiting.’ Half-hearted pushes. His hand snakes under skirt. Knee grinds her crotch. She sighs, eyes fluttering shut.

Blood boils. Can’t watch this shit. Stagger out, slur words. ‘You okay, Caroline?’ He spins, eyes murder. ‘Who the fuck are you, fat slut?’ Caroline bolts up stairs, buttons flying. Alone now. He snarls, ‘Ruined my pussy grab, bitch. Gonna slap your ass.’ Tremble. Can’t move. Fingers my tee, eyes on my braless tits. ‘Nice rack though.’ Lunges close. Smack cracks my cheek. World spins, slam wall. Stars burst.

He rears for more. Sudden grip—Beledni materializes from dark. Towering, sweaty from trash run. Twists dealer’s arm. Growls low. Punk flees stairs. I’m sobbing, cheek burning, propped on wall. Beledni dumps his bag, saunters over. Sweat stench hits—musky, male, intoxicating. Inches away. Eyes lock on my heaving tits, nipples hard through thin cotton. No words. Hand shoots out, cups one heavy breast. Thumb circles nipple. I arch, gasp.

The Explosion: Wild Release Against the Wall

His knee nudges thighs apart. Compliant. Press hard against soaked panties. Clit screams. Hand slides under tee, kneads flesh. Pulls tit free, sucks deep. Teeth graze. ‘Hmmm…’ Rip. Panties tear, dangle one ankle. Fingers crush mound, hoist me. Two plunge pussy—wet, pulsing. Thumb mashes clit. Suck harder on tit. Body quakes. Waves build. Fingers curl, hit spot. Legs buckle.

‘Fuuuck…’ Muffled moan. Cum crashes silent, gushing. Walls clench digits. He smirks, withdraws slick hand. Zips up unseen bulge. Pats cheek—gentle now. ‘Good girl.’ Vanishes stairs. Panting, sein out, panty trailing. Stagger up four floors. Their door ajar—music blasts, TV roars. Irina’s stare burns. Ignore. Mirror shock: panty snagged foot. Snatch, crash couch. Blackout.

Dawn. Aspirator hell from Irina. Head pounds like hammer. Coffee, aspro. Lift tee—purple hickey crowns tit. Real. Juiced by Beledni in trash stink. Frustrated—half memory, full bliss. Cheek throbs from slap. What now? His eyes tomorrow? Pussy aches replay. Fingers tempt, but fade. Need real cock next time. Anonyme rules: chase thrill, no regrets.