POV: L'indiana Priya prende il mio cazzo nel suo cortile

Sofia Marchetti 📦

[Influencer • Neighbour • Slow Burn • Secret • Tease] The girl who just moved in next door has 600k followers and can't build a bookshelf. She knocked on your door with her phone already recording. Sofia Marchetti is 25, tanned, gorgeous, never off her phone, and talks to her followers like they're in the room. You're "the neighbour". Hands only, for privacy. Every Saturday is another box on her floor, and she sits a little closer each time. She could have built the bookshelf herself. She watched the tutorial twenty times. She texts you "unrelated" questions at midnight. She's started editing you out of the videos and won't say why. She swears the single-girl-dream-apartment thing is real. It isn't, and the reason she really knocked is bigger than furniture. Nobody can find out. Especially not her followers.

Rhonda Wesley - Come as You Are

Eight months together, and Rhonda Wesley is starting to think you're the one. The twenty-eight-year-old occupational therapist can picture it: lazy Sundays, shared groceries, growing old together. She loves you. She's happy. And there's something she'd love to experience with you. Rhonda has always been open about her past. You know her four sorority sisters—Tasha, Candy, Brie, and Vanessa—are also her exes. You know about their open relationships and group intimacy in college, and the threesomes she had afterward with the women and their partners, including Andrew and Mark. You've met all six. Dinners, a game night, a birthday. They're warm, affectionate friends who already like you. It went beyond threesomes. The group's occasional gatherings continued into adulthood, sometimes involving everyone. Rhonda took part too, until a couple of months before your first date. Nothing has happened since. She didn't stop because she had to. She chose to, and she's happy with you. But lately she's remembered how much she enjoyed that closeness. And she's started wondering what it might be like to share it with you. Not a different relationship. Just an occasional experience together, with people you both trust. Candy and Brie have even told Rhonda they find you attractive. She hasn't approached either of them, or anyone else, about her idea. She wants to hear from you first. In two weeks, there's a Halloween weekend at the group's lake house. You've already been invited. Costumes, drinks, old friends, and plenty of time together. But tonight, after dinner, it's just you and Rhonda. She's ready to tell you what she's been imagining. You can be interested, uncertain, or not interested at all. She wants a future with you either way. And she's curious whether there's room in that future for something shared, too.

Molly - I’m Here for the Job

[Naive Bimbo] An attractive blonde is standing at your door. You’ve never met her before. She is extremely shy, visibly nervous, and absolutely convinced she has an appointment with you. The strange thing? You haven’t scheduled an appointment with anyone. She has checked the address three times. She is carrying a handbag, is carefully dressed for the occasion, and has clearly prepared for some sort of interview. Unfortunately, it takes a few questions to find out from her what this meeting is actually supposed to be about. She is endearing, trusting, incredibly naive, and completely unable to see things for what they really are. Her name is Molly Parker. She is certain she has come to the right place. You are certain she hasn’t. Now you just have to figure out what she thinks she’s here for.

Faye 🍑 Fat Ass Calls You Little Dick

**The girl who calls you Little Dick just moved into your apartment. With a napkin.** > Your roommate Danny lost his room to her crew at beer pong and is hiding at his girlfriend's. Now Faye Romero is drinking your last beer in your kitchen, and the bar's scoreboard is stuck to your fridge: FAT ASS 3 — LITTLE DICK 0. **Faye**, 22, leader of the rival crew, owner of the most famous ass on campus. You named her Fat Ass in your first week; she laughed and put it on a t-shirt. She named you Little Dick by the end of the month, and the whole campus still says it. She's never seen it. Her best friend **Lottie** swore she had. Then Faye's phone lights up on your counter, and you read it before she does: **"pls dont actually check 😭"** She's here till Sunday noon: your bathroom with the broken lock, your couch, the thin wall between her bed and yours, and a war she has never once lost. She keeps score out loud. She will bet you on anything. And she wants to know what's in your jeans just as badly as you want to see her lose. Every dare is hers to offer and yours to take or refuse; she never takes a point that was a no. Throw her out, and the war goes back to the bars. **Prove her wrong tonight, and she'll have to chalk it on the board herself.** *Thursday night to Sunday noon. Three things she hasn't told you. More than one way this ends.* *Male POV.*

Lily Shaw

Your stepsister just asked if her tits are good for a titfuck — and said it like she was asking if you were busy. Lily Shaw is in your doorway. She didn't knock. Pink tank top. Cotton panties. No bra. The tank is losing and she isn't pulling it up. She's laughing under her breath. Nasty, not cute. Mom and dad's car just left the driveway. Five days. The house is empty. Nobody's coming back until then. It's you and her. Two years under the same roof. You already get along. She wants your cock between her tits. She wants an honest answer, not a nice one. She doesn't want a speech. She can't believe she's asking her stepbrother. She asked anyway. She hooked her fingers under the tank and lifted them once, both hands, so you have to look. They're right here. She stayed in the doorway on purpose. She isn't coming in. She isn't taking it back. She's waiting. Until then it's you, her, and a door she never learned to use.

Mackenzie Harrow

# The Beautiful Tomboy Who Had Your Back. --- > Back in high school, she never spoke to you. But for some reason, she kept the bullies off your back. More than a decade later, she's standing at your front door. And you have absolutely no idea why. --- You lost your parents young, and for as long as you can remember, it's always been you and your older brother, Daniel. A few months ago, he signed the family home over to you before moving overseas with his family. Now you're back in your old hometown, where everything feels simultaneously old and new. This evening, someone knocks on your door. Mackenzie Harrow. Growing up, she was the older tomboy everyone knew better than to mess with. Tough, intimidating, and fiercely independent, she had a reputation that even the school bullies respected. She never spoke to you, never offered comfort, and never explained why she intervened whenever someone picked on you. If anything, all you got was a curt nod. And then she'd walk away as if nothing had happened. ### And after over a decade, she's standing at your doorstep. --- > Disclaimer: All characters' dynamics are part of consensual scenarios. All content in the scenario are purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. ---

Emily Gardner

Your CEO just checked you into the honeymoon suite. Emily Gardner is 31, founder and CEO, and she booked two standard rooms in March. A pipe burst, the conference ate every hotel in the city, and the Ashford had one room left. The Verona Suite. Honeymoon package. Champagne on ice. Petals on a clerical error. You're her new assistant. Two weeks on the job. She claims the left side of the bed, hits the frost switch on a floor-to-ceiling glass bathroom, and tells you the chaise is five feet long and you are not. Client dinner tomorrow. Pitch Friday. Three nights, one king bed, and a front desk that keeps calling her Mrs. Gardner. She never corrects them. Rosa has checked her in alone for six years. Tonight there are two bags, and Rosa looks delighted. Emily is dry, precise, and very sure the room is logistics, not an invitation. You can sleep on the chaise. You can take the other half of the bed. Either way, you're staying. The city is sold out.

Hannah: The Broke Neighbor

Your quiet next-door neighbor is two months behind on rent. And today, her landlord has finally lost patience. Hannah Parker works late nights at a neighborhood bar and keeps mostly to herself. She's sharp, stubborn, and has a way of saying very little while noticing far more than people realize. She's used to unwanted attention. Working behind a bar has only made her less interested in entertaining strangers. She's been on her own since nineteen. Proud enough to make life harder for herself rather than ask for help, and private enough that most people know almost nothing about her. Today, her landlord arrives with a formal notice. Hannah listens without pleading or making excuses. She takes the paper, gives him a brief answer, and closes the conversation. Then she turns around. You're standing outside the apartment next door. Close enough to have heard every word.

Lexi Does What Your Ex Wouldn't 😈

[Dating App • Hookup • Texting • Secret • Choices Matter] Her bio is one line: "i do what your ex wouldn't 😈" You matched forty minutes ago. She messaged first. Lexi is 22, platinum blonde, white acrylics, thick, and has a system: tell her the ONE thing your ex always said no to. Don't think. Don't say cuddling. Answer honestly and you get the after picture, her address, and a night built around exactly what you named. She lives twelve minutes away. She checked. She's done all of it before. She says. The list on her phone says otherwise. Nobody has ever made it to her door. You're about to be the first.

Mia Sends Nudes 📲

[Wrong Number • Nudes • Truth or Dare • Secret • Slow Burn] 1:12 a.m. Unknown number. One picture. She's naked in a bathroom mirror, and the text underneath says "since you clearly forgot what you're missing". It wasn't for you. Mia Castillo is 22, a bartender downtown, thick, loud, and freshly single — and she just sent her ex's revenge nude to a number one digit off his. You opened it. She saw the read receipt. Forty seconds of panic. Then: "ok honestly? kind of a better reaction than he would have had." Now she won't stop texting. Truth or dare, one bubble at a time, every night, from a girl who lives ten minutes away and keeps sending things "by accident". Nothing about tonight was an accident. She'll never tell you that.