Preview

I’d been living alone in my sixth-floor apartment ever since my husband died in that tragic accident a few years ago. The building was old, with a shared courtyard where neighbors sometimes crossed paths, but I usually kept my distance.

That day it was pouring rain, one of those downpours that turns the streets into rivers. As I entered the courtyard, I saw a tall man, his skin as dark as ebony, soaked to the bone, waiting in front of the elevator door. He was incredibly handsome: defined muscles beneath his tight-fitting t-shirt, an angular face, and a shy smile that instantly disarmed me.

I approached him and asked, “Where are you going?”

He replied, with a soft, foreign accent, “Well, ma’am, we’ve rented apartment number 7, but I’m waiting for the landlord to bring me the keys.”

The rain wouldn’t stop, and I felt a pang of pity ... or perhaps something more.

“Since it’s raining so much and we’re going to be neighbors—I live on the sixth floor—you can wait at my place if you’d like.”

“Oh, thank you so much,” he said, his eyes sparkling.

We went up in silence, but the elevator seemed smaller than usual with him there. When we got to my apartment, I gave him a large towel to dry off.

“You’re drenched,” I said, and I took an old T-shirt and jeans of my late husband’s from the closet. “Put these on while your clothes dry; I don’t want you to catch a cold.”

He hesitated for a moment, but agreed and went to the bathroom. When he came out, oh my God! The T-shirt fit him perfectly, showing off his broad chest and perfect abs. The jeans ... there was that impressive bulge I’d noticed earlier, now even more obvious. I couldn’t help but stare as he dried his torso with the towel.

He noticed, because he gave a lopsided smile and said, “Thanks for everything, really.”

I mumbled something to cover my tracks: “Have you sorted out the cleaning?”

He told me no, that five friends had rented the apartment—all young, strong, hardworking immigrants like him—and that they hadn’t had time to get settled yet.

“You’re speaking in the plural ... five guys living together?”

“Yeah, we’re like brothers,” he replied, laughing. I felt a heat rise through my body, an excitement I hadn’t felt in years.

“Well, if you want, I can help you with the cleaning until you find a service. First, I’d give you a deep clean ... and then it would just be maintenance.”

My words came out with a double meaning I couldn’t control. He looked at me intently, with those deep eyes, and took a step closer.

“That would be great ... and what would that ‘deep clean’ include?”

I don’t know what possessed me, but I reached out and touched his chest, feeling his warm, firm skin. “Anything you need,” I murmured.

He dropped the towel, and his large hand covered mine, guiding it down to that bulge that was now throbbing beneath his jeans. “Then let’s get started,” he said huskily.

I kissed him urgently, devouring his full lips. His hands lifted me as if I weighed nothing, carried me to the sofa, and undressed me hastily. His cock was enormous, thick and veiny, black as night, hard as steel. I knelt before him, sucking it eagerly, savoring every inch as he groaned in his language, gripping my hair. “Damn, you’re so hot,” he growled. He fucked me right there, deep and wild, making me scream with pleasure after so long without a man. His thrusts were powerful, filling me completely, making me come again and again. Finally, he came inside me, hot and abundant, marking me as his. But that wasn’t the end.

The next day, when his four friends arrived with the keys, I told them about my “cleaning offer.”

They smiled knowingly, aware of what had happened with their friend. “We gladly accept,” they said in unison.

From then on, my “service” became something much more ... intense. The five of them, taking turns or sometimes together, used me as their personal whore. Deep cleaning: me naked, on my knees, sucking their enormous cocks one after the other while they fucked me from every angle. Weekly maintenance: orgies in their apartment or mine, sweaty bodies, dark skin against my white, moans echoing through the building. I never felt alone again.

My new neighbors “cleansed” my soul ... and my body, whenever they wanted. And I, delighted to be their hot secret.