I know you’re there. Every night I hear the floorboard creak as you step up to my door. You like to press your ear to the wood and listen for a moan or a sigh. I wonder, do you fear that you might be caught, or do you secretly long for it? What if one of our other neighbours found you there? What if I opened my door?
Tonight is different. Tonight I am entertaining. Tonight I have forgotten to latch the door. As you press yourself against it, it falls open, just a sliver of light from my room leaking onto the landing. Does your heart miss a beat? I hear the door click, and so does he.
“What was that?”
“This is an old house,” I say, “there are a lot of ghosts.” I laugh. “It settles noisily sometimes.” I smile for you, and lower my mouth to lick the underside of his cock, base to tip, making him gasp.