Confession: The Woman Next Door With the enchanting Tits

[Th****]

We’d never spoken. Not once.

She lived in the apartment next door — always quiet, always alone, and always braless under the thinnest tank tops I’ve ever seen. And god... those tits. 36I. That’s not a guess — I found out later, but we’ll get to that.

At first, it was innocent. A glance when I passed her door. A stolen look through the window when she watered her plants in just her sleep shorts and nothing else. But over time? It turned into obsession. I started timing my day around her. I knew what she looked like from the front, side, back — hell, I could draw those tits from memory with my eyes closed.

One night, I couldn’t help it. I was coming back late, and her door was cracked open — just slightly. I heard music. Soft moans. Flickering light from the TV. I paused, heartbeat pounding like a fucking drum.

And then she said it — "You gonna stand there like a creep, or are you gonna come in and see what these big fucking tits feel like?"

I swear, my cock twitched instantly. She stood there in lace panties, nothing else. Those 36Is were pure art — heavy, soft, bouncing slightly as she walked over and grabbed my hand, pulling me in like she'd been waiting too.

I didn’t ask questions. I didn’t need to.

My mouth was on her chest before the door even closed. She moaned like she’d been edged for weeks. I kissed, sucked, squeezed — buried my face in her like a man possessed. Her nipples were thick, aching, begging for attention. She kept whispering, "You love these tits, huh? You’ve been thinking about them every night, haven’t you?"

Yes. Every. Damn. Night.

And now I’m ruined. Because nothing — and I mean nothing — compares to the feeling of fucking a woman who knows exactly what her body does to you.

[Ch****]

That was 🔥🔥🔥