Sinful Semester(Dripping College Desires)

Dripping For My Neighbor#2

Sylvia’s Pov(Dripping for my neighbour)

I lay there on my back, staring at the ceiling while Marcus pumped into me with those short, clumsy thrusts. Two minutes tops. He grunted like a pig, his sweaty belly slapping against me, then spilled inside me with one final shaky push. Done. He didn’t even look at me.

“Morning,” I said flatly.

He just grunted again, pulled out, and rolled off the bed. I felt dirty the second his d**k left me. Like I needed a shower just from him touching me. He waddled to the bathroom without a word.

I waited until I heard the shower running, then got up fast. My body was still aching, still needy, but not because of him. God, I was so pretty, long brown hair, smooth skin, tight curves, and here I was married to this ugly man who couldn’t even make me c*m. He kept trying to get me pregnant too, like that was going to happen. No way was I bringing an ugly kid into this world. God wouldn’t do that to me.

I took a quick shower, scrubbing hard like I could wash his touch off. When I came out, I was already dressed for the day…simple jeans and a cute top.

Marcus came out drying his hair. “Enjoy your day,” he said, actually sounding nice for once. His mood swings were exhausting, but today he seemed happy.

“Thanks,” I replied. “You too.”

He left for work, reminding me again that I wasn’t allowed to get a job. Too many young guys out there who might “steal” me. Controlling asshole.

I was alone in the house again, bored out of my mind, when the doorbell rang.

*Did Marcus forget something?*

I hurried downstairs and opened the door.

Holy f**k.

It was him. The hot neighbor from last night. Up close he looked even better — tall, broad shoulders, dark hair, and his shirt was unbuttoned just enough at the top to show the start of those ripped abs. He was holding a plate of cookies.

“Hey,” he said with an easy smile. “I’m your new neighbor. Just wanted to come say hi and drop these off. Name’s Sam.”

I stood there like an i***t, mouth dry. My eyes kept dropping to his chest. *What the f**k is wrong with you, Sylvia? You just met him and you’re already drooling.*

“Uh… hi. I’m Sylvia. Welcome to the neighborhood.”

He grinned. “Nice to meet you, Sylvia. Mind if I come in for a minute? I’d love to know a bit about the area.”

I don’t know why I said it, but the words just came out. “Yeah, sure. Come in.”

We stepped inside. I offered him tea or coffee, but he waved it off politely and started asking questions about the neighborhood. I told him it was quiet, that I didn’t go out much, that I wasn’t really the social type. He listened, nodding, those dark eyes on me the whole time.

“You live here alone?” he asked casually.

I thought about the girl I saw him with the other night. “No… I’m married. But my husband is at work most days.”

Sam leaned back on the couch, looking relaxed. “Got it. Well, I live alone for now, but I’ll have a lot of visitors. I’m a photographer, mostly celebrities and fashion stuff.”

His eyes moved over me slowly. “You know… you’re really pretty. You’ve got the perfect body for a shoot. Interested?”

I felt my cheeks heat up. “I’m married, Sam.”

He smirked a little. “Married or just married?”

“What does that even mean?” I asked, laughing nervously.

“Never mind,” he said, shrugging. “Being married doesn’t mean you can’t take a few pictures. You seem bored stuck in this house all day.”

He was right. My friends were all at work during the day. I barely talked to anyone until night time. The idea sounded exciting. Dangerous, but exciting.

“f**k it,” I thought. “Okay. Let me change real quick.”

I ran upstairs, heart racing. I picked a simple but flattering sundress that hugged my curves, put on a little makeup, and sprayed my favorite perfume. When I came back down, Sam’s eyes lit up.

“Damn,” he muttered under his breath.

We walked over to his place. Boxes were still everywhere.

“Sorry about the mess,” he said. “Still unpacking.”

“Unpacking is tiring,” I replied, smiling. “Want some help arranging stuff for your shoots?”

He looked at me for a long second, then nodded. “Yeah… actually, I need you to be more explicit for the camera. Think you can handle that?”

Something in his voice made my stomach flip. I don’t know what came over me, but I nodded.

We cleared a space. Sam set up his camera and lights. I stood there feeling nervous and turned on at the same time.

“Take the dress off,” he said quietly.

Stupid girl, someone says take off your clothes and you did???

Well yeah. I thought to myself, we only live once.

My hands shook, but I did it. I pulled the dress over my head and dropped it. Then my bra. Then my panties. I was completely naked in front of this stranger.

Sam’s eyes darkened as he started snapping photos. “f**k, Sylvia… you look incredible.”

I posed for him, hands on my t**s, arching my back, spreading my legs a little. The camera clicked faster. I was getting wet just from the way he looked at me.

Suddenly he lowered the camera.

“What?” I asked, breathing hard.

“I know this is unprofessional as hell,” he said, voice rough, “but I can’t f*****g control myself anymore.”

Just like that? Yes.

He stepped closer. My heart pounded. I was so turned on I could barely think.

“Can I?” he asked.

I nodded.

Sam bent down and took one of my hard n*****s into his mouth, sucking it hard. I gasped, my back arching. His tongue flicked fast while his hand squeezed the other tit roughly. Then he switched, sucking and biting the second one until I was moaning loud.

He lifted me like I weighed nothing and carried me to the couch. In seconds he had his clothes off. His c**k was thick, long, and rock hard — way bigger than Marcus’s.

Sam spread my legs wide and rubbed the fat head of his d**k up and down my soaked slit.

“You’re dripping,” he growled.

Then he pushed inside me in one hard thrust.

“Oh my God!” I cried out. The stretch was insane. He filled me completely.

He didn’t go slow. He started f*****g me hard, deep strokes that made the couch shake. Every thrust hit that perfect spot inside me.

“Harder,” I begged, nails digging into his back. “f**k me harder, Sam!”

He grinned and slammed into me faster, hips snapping brutally. The wet slapping sounds were loud and nasty. He grabbed my t**s, squeezing them while he pounded me.

“You like it rough, don’t you?” he grunted.

“Yes—f**k—yes!” I screamed.

He flipped me over, pulled my ass up, and drove back in from behind. His balls slapped against my c**t with every thrust. One hand reached around and rubbed my swollen c**t fast and rough.

I had never been f****d like this. Not even close. My whole body was shaking. The pressure built so fast I couldn’t hold it.

“I’m gonna c*m—” I gasped.

“c*m on my c**k,” he ordered, thrusting even harder.

I exploded. My p***y clenched tight around him, gushing wet as the orgasm crashed through me. I screamed, legs trembling, vision going blurry.

Sam didn’t stop. He kept railing me through it, f*****g me even deeper, chasing his own release.

“f**k, Sylvia… your p***y is so tight,” he groaned.

He pulled out suddenly, flipped me onto my back again, and shoved his c**k back inside. This time he pinned my legs wide open and f****d me with short, brutal strokes, grinding against my c**t.

I came again, harder this time, squirting a little around his thick c**k. My moans turned into sobs of pleasure.

Sam finally groaned loud and buried himself deep, filling me with hot spurts of c*m. He kept thrusting through his orgasm, milking every drop inside me.

We stayed like that for a moment, both of us breathing heavy, bodies slick with sweat.

Best s*x ever. I hate my husband.