**The Delivery**

I was starving, but not for the pepperoni pizza I’d just ordered. Nandini—my next-door neighbor, the one with the tight yoga pants and the habit of bending over just a little too long in the hallway—had been driving me insane for weeks. Every time she walked past my door, her hips swaying, her tight little ass begging for attention, I had to remind myself not to stare. Tonight, though, was different.

When the doorbell rang, I wasn’t expecting her to answer it in nothing but a thin, barely-there tank top and tiny shorts. I heard her giggling from my living room, heard the low murmur of the delivery guy’s voice. Then silence. Too long of a silence.

Curiosity got the better of me. I cracked open my door just enough to see.

Nandini was leaning against the doorframe, her tits practically spilling out of her top as she handed the delivery guy—some scrawny college kid named Manik, according to his shirt—a wad of cash. Only, she wasn’t letting go.

“Forgot something,” she purred, her fingers brushing his wrist.

Manik froze, his eyes locked on her tits. I could see the instant his brain short-circuited.

Nandini smirked, then tugged him inside.

My dick was already hard by the time I heard the first moan.

—

I couldn’t help myself—I crept closer, pressing my ear against the thin wall between our apartments.

“Fuck, you’re wet,” Manik groaned.

“You like that?” Nandini’s voice was breathy, teasing.

“Yeah, fuck yeah—”

Then the sound of fabric ripping. A sharp gasp. A wet slap of skin on skin.

I palmed my cock through my jeans, straining against the denim. I should’ve walked away. I didn’t.

Through the crack in her blinds, I saw them.

Nandini was bent over her couch, shorts shoved down to her ankles, Manik’s hands gripping her hips as he slammed into her from behind. Her pussy was soaked, glistening around his cock as he fucked her hard, his balls slapping against her ass with every thrust.

“You like getting fucked by the pizza guy?” Manik growled, his fingers digging into her skin.

Nandini moaned, arching her back, pushing her round ass back against him. “God, yes—fuck me harder!”

He obliged, hammering into her like a man possessed. Nandini’s tits bounced with each brutal thrust, her nipples hard against the fabric of her tank top. Her fingers clawed at the couch cushions as she whimpered, her cunt clamping down around him.

“Shit, you’re tight,” Manik groaned, his breath ragged. “Gonna make me cum—”

Nandini reached back, fingers tangling in his hair, yanking his head down to her shoulder. “Do it,” she hissed. “Fill me up.”

That was all it took.

With a deep, guttural groan, Manik buried himself inside her, his hips jerking as he came. I could practically see his cock pulsing inside her, pumping her full. Nandini shuddered, her own orgasm crashing over her as she clenched around him, her moans loud enough to echo through the wall.

When he finally pulled out, cum dripped from her swollen pussy, streaking down her thighs. Nandini turned, smirking as she licked her fingers clean.

“Guess I should tip you extra,” she murmured, her eyes dark with satisfaction.

Manik—still panting, still hard—just grinned.

And I? I went back to my apartment, my dick aching, my own order forgotten.

Best pizza night ever.