Blind Texting (Final Part)

[Da****]

The hallway had gone quiet, which was worse.


I recognized the weight in that last creak, Marcus from 4B, broad-shouldered and deliberate, home from night shift and in no hurry to move on. I let the silence do its work. She couldn't know if he'd left or pressed his ear to the door. Her hand had gone still over the wet black lace at my command, but her hips kept rolling into her own palm like they'd forgotten how to stop.


"Stop," I said again, just to watch her fight it.


She made a sound, half whimper, half protest. Her fingers twitched. Her thighs squeezed around her hand.


"Ask me."


She shook her head. Then her whole body shuddered.


"Ask me properly, and I'll take them off for you."


"Please," she whispered, then louder: "Please…off….need…I need…I need.” I love when they struggle to verbalize.


I stepped in behind her and hooked my fingers into the waistband of her panties. She was so wet the lace clung to her, ***ling away with a soft, slick sound. I dragged them down her shaking legs and tapped her ankle. She stepped out.


"Spread your legs."


She obeyed. I pressed one palm between her shoulder blades and bent her forward. Then I slid two fingers through her from behind, parting her, and she gasped like she'd been electrocuted.


You're soaked, I thought. I didn't say it; I let my fingers say it for me. I pushed into her slowly, to the knuckles, and curled forward. Her knees buckled. I caught her hip with my free hand and held her steady.


"Don't stop making noise. Let whoever is out there hear exactly what I'm doing to you."


She moaned low and broken. I worked my fingers in a steady, punishing rhythm, palm grinding against her clit on every stroke. With my other hand, I pulled her bra cup down and pinched her nipple, hard. She bucked back into my hand.


Her cunt clenched around my fingers. I fucked her faster, listening to the wet, obscene sounds of her body opening for me. Her legs shook. Her moans turned high and frantic.


"Cum for me. Now."


She came with a raw, sobbing cry, body convulsing around my fingers. I kept moving through it, slower, drawing out every last spasm until she sagged forward. Then I pulled out.


"Good girl..."

I unbelted my pants, freed my cock, and…Her knees sank under her own weight. I dragged her hips back and notched myself at her entrance.

"Hold still."


She whimpered and obeyed. I pushed into her in one long, wet thrust. She was still fluttering from the orgasm, impossibly tight and hot. I set a hard rhythm, fingers digging into the soft flesh of her hips, each snap driving a broken little sound out of her.


I leaned over her back, pressing my chest to her spine, and spoke in her ear through my panted moans "You were made…to be fucked like this…blind and deaf to everything but me….You have no idea if someone else is in the room right now do you? ….watching my cock split you open... Maybe he's standing behind us. Maybe I'll make you beg for him while he watches…."


She clenched around me. I pulled her hair just enough to arch her neck, and she let out a desperate, hungry moan, not ***, but need.


I drove harder. The sound of skin against skin filled the room. I was close, heat gathering at the base of my spine. I pulled out and turned her roughly.


"On your knees. Face up."


She sank to the floor, her hands limp at her sides. I guided her chin up with two fingers. Her lips were parted, her blindfold still perfectly dark across her eyes. I stroked myself inches from her mouth.

"Open your mouth."

She did, tongue out. I came hard, thick ropes across her lips, her cheek, over the blindfold itself, one stripe landing on her waiting tongue. She trembled but stayed in place. I milked the last of it onto her chin.

For a long moment, the only sound was her ragged breathing and the low hum from the headphones.

"Good girl," I said softly.

I went to the bathroom and ran warm water over a cloth. When I returned, she hadn't moved. I knelt and cleaned her face in slow, gentle strokes—first her lips, then her cheek, then the delicate edge of the blindfold. Her chin. My movements were careful, unhurried. She leaned into it like a cat.


"Good girl," I said again. "You did so well."

I helped her to her feet and walked her to the bed. She floated, unseeing, still lost in that soft, boneless place. I eased her onto the sheets and pulled the duvet over her. Her body gave one last little shudder.

I kissed her forehead, just above the silk. "Sleep. You were perfect."

She made a small, blissed sound and curled onto her side. I stood there, watching her breathe, watching her lips stay parted, watching her drift.


The candle in the other room had burned down to a shiver of flame.


The floorboards in the hallway creaked once. Heavy. Deliberate. As if someone had been waiting out there the whole time…waiting to come home…

I left her sleeping in that room, walked to the kitchen counter and placed the spare key on the counter

I looked around the place with a sweet primal satisfaction…time for me to go home and enjoy my own bed…who knows who she would wake to in the morning to use her again.


End