Lena barely slept that night. Every time she closed her eyes, she heard his voice again—low, amused, commanding. “Don’t stop now, neighbor.” Her body stayed restless, thighs slick even hours later. She touched herself twice more before dawn, whispering into the dark, imagining it was him. The next day dragged. Work felt distant. All she could think about was 11 p.m. Would he do it again? Would he talk to her through the wall? Would she answer? She came home early, showered, ate nothing. Dressed in a thin tank top and shorts—nothing sexy on purpose, but nothing to hide either. She sat on her bed at 10:55, heart hammering, waiting. At 11:02, the sounds started. Same creak of the bed. Same low groan. But no woman’s voice this time. Just him—alone. He was stroking himself. Slow. Deliberate. The rhythm was different—longer pauses, heavier breaths. Then his voice—clear, close, like he was speaking right against the wall. “You there tonight, neighbor?” Lena’s breat
Last Updated : 2026-02-11 Read more