your neighbor who lives next door in the same shitty apartment with the too thin walls and cramped rooms, whose bed is on the other side of your bedroom wall, who learns your schedule not because he wants to but because he’s forced to—when you get out of the shower, when you climb into bed, when you pleasure yourself—who grits his teeth when he hears your hushed gasps and low pants, slipping a hand under the band of his boxers, rubbing the swollen tip with the palm of his hand, and pumps his leaking cock into his fist, covering his mouth with the back of his other hand, his pace quickening, matching your airy breaths. he cums immediately into his hand, hearing a sweet singular moan that spills past your lips, breathing low and heavy, wanting to hear you just one more time…