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STORY 26 - FUCKING MR. ANONYMOUS (II)
publish date:
2026-03-19 15:41:13
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DIRTY DREAMS STORY 62 - FUCKED OVER THE COAST LINE (III)
Two fingers push into me and curl and find the place that makes my knees stop cooperating, while his thumb keeps working from outside and his mouth fastens on the back of my neck hard enough to bruise. I’m being fingered over a railing in Positano with a restaurant full of strangers underneath me and the risk of it is pouring fuel on everything.“I’m going to cm,” I get out, hanging onto the railing, the sea glittering below me. “I’m going to cm over the entire –”“Then be loud about it. Let the coast hear.”I cm gripping a stranger’s railing on the twelfth floor with my body clenching around his fingers and my voice going out over the water. Below me a couple at one of the terrace tables lifts their heads, searching, scanning up along the face of the hotel, and I cm while they look and I never find out whether they see me, and the not-knowing turns out to be better than certainty in either direction.He pulls his hand back. Behind me I hear the rest of him going – the whisper of line
DIRTY DREAMS STORY 62 - FUCKED OVER THE COAST LINE (II)
The robe opens and I keep it on my shoulders and let it frame me – stomach, hips, breasts bare in the evening air with my nipples tightening from the breeze and the exposure in equal measure, the pale bands of a bikini tan earned over years of very careful beach afternoons. The angle of my hips against the railing hides the rest.I’m standing twelve floors above Italy with my robe open and a stranger’s eyes on me, and what I feel isn’t fear. It’s power, running up through my legs into my chest. Being looked at by someone who genuinely wants to look. Choosing to be seen instead of being caught.“Don’t stop.” His voice has dropped and roughened, carrying across the gap with the intimacy of something confessed. “Whatever you’re about to do, don’t stop.”My hand goes to my breast. I cup it and circle my thumb over the nipple, slow, the way I do it alone when I’m building something on purpose, and it tightens under my thumb and his face changes and the change in his face travels straight d
DIRTY DREAMS STORY 62 - FUCKED OVER THE COAST LINE (I)
The robe is hotel-issue white terry, thick as a towel, smelling faintly of industrial lavender, and I have been wearing it for nineteen minutes with no intention of putting on anything else. Seventeen hours of travel. A marriage that ended in April. A best friend who told me I needed a vacation instead of a therapist and then booked the room before I could build an argument against it.She was right, which is annoying, but the Amalfi Coast at sunset makes it hard to hold a grudge. The water runs turquoise into navy in a gradient that looks retouched, the sun bleeding orange across all of it, and Positano stacks itself up the cliff in pinks and ochres at angles no engineer would ever sign off on. My room sits on the twelfth floor with the balcony hanging out over the drop. Looking down turns my stomach over. Looking out does the opposite, opening something in my chest that’s been shut since spring, and I stand there with wet hair and bare feet on stone still warm from the day and take
DIRTY DREAMS STORY 61 - THE NEIGHBOR ON MY INSIDE (IV)
I cum again bent over his kitchen island with my wrists crossed behind me and my cheek on cold granite, and the kitchen throws the sound back at us doubled.We end up on the tile because the tile is where gravity was always sending us. He goes down first and pulls me over him and then rolls us, and the floor is freezing against my shoulder blades and I don’t care.“Your floor is filthy,” I inform him.“You’re cumming on it. Seems fine to me.”I pull his hair and he retaliates by biting the side of my neck, hard, and I know exactly what that’s going to look like in the elevator tomorrow and I let him do it anyway. My nails go down his back from his shoulders to his ass, and I feel the skin rise under my fingers, and he groans and fucks me harder into his own kitchen floor, and we are both going to be a mess in daylight.His bedroom is the last room we enter, and it’s the only one that matters.It shares my wall. That’s the wall. The headboard that’s been waking me since March is bolted
DIRTY DREAMS STORY 61 - THE NEIGHBOR ON MY INSIDE (III)
Two fingers push back in while his mouth stays on my clit, and the combination undoes me faster than I’d like – under two minutes, because six months of arguing in doorways was foreplay and the first honest contact detonates everything that’s been stacking up since March.I cum against his mouth with my thigh locked over his shoulder and my hand fisted in his hair, and I’m loud enough that the downstairs neighbor is definitely awake now, and I don’t care, because for the first time in half a year I am making noise in this building on purpose.He stands up with his mouth and chin shining, looking obscenely pleased with himself.“Couch,” I say, pushing him backward by the chest.He goes down onto the cushions and I climb over him, and the springs make their specific squeak – the one I know, the one I’ve laid in the dark listening to while other women made sounds I pretended not to hear.There’s still fabric between us. I settle down onto the ridge of him through the joggers and grind, a
DIRTY DREAMS STORY 61 - THE NEIGHBOR ON MY INSIDE (II)
I shove past him.His apartment is mine flipped, and it’s disorienting to walk into a mirror of your own life that smells like somebody else’s soap. The speakers are two towers flanking the couch, big enough that I can see the air moving in front of them. I go for the power button with the specific fury of a woman who has not slept properly since February.He catches my wrist before I reach it.Not hard. His hand closes around my forearm and stops it, and that’s all. I turn and he’s right there, closer than he’s ever been, close enough that I can smell the sweat and the beer and something underneath both that is just him, and my body reads the proximity and floods before my brain files an objection.“Don’t touch my equipment,” he says, low.“Then turn it off yourself.”“No.”“You are the worst neighbor in this building. You’re loud, you’re selfish, you have never once considered that other people live here, and I have wanted to strangle you since March –”“And you’re standing in my ap
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