Midnight Entry
*********
The house was too quiet.
That’s what Erica noticed first. Not the beautiful finishes, not the polished floors or the high ceilings—it was the silence. Thick, heavy, unnatural. It clung to her skin as she wandered barefoot in her towel, wine in hand, lips glossy from a lazy post-move facial.
No neighbours, no traffic, no noise.
Just still air and creaking wood beneath her heels as she explored the back hallway she didn’t remember seeing in the listing.
It was the third night when the moaning began.
Soft at first—like a gasp. Erica sat up in bed, the sheets warm around her thighs, robe clinging damp to her skin. She strained her ears, cocking her head.
Nothing.
She padded barefoot down the hallway, hips swaying, bare ass peeking from beneath her robe. Her nipples were hard—maybe from the chill, maybe from the strange heat crawling across her skin.
She turned the corner. The wall was just that. A wall.
The next night, she heard it again. This time louder.
More than just moaning. Wet slapping. A grunt. A woman’s breathy cry, long and drawn-out, the kind that spilled from a cock-stuffed throat.
Her throat.
Erica’s thighs pressed together instinctively.
The hallway felt… different.
And there, where there had been nothing, was now a door.
Black wood. Ornate. Ancient. No knob—just a brass keyhole that shimmered like it remembered her.
Her fingers trembled as they touched it.
And at exactly midnight, it clicked.
The door swung inward an inch. Warm air rushed out—thick with sweat, spice, sex.
And sunlight?
Erica pushed the door open and stepped through.
It was her house.
But it wasn’t.
Brighter. Alive. Daylight flooded through windows that should’ve shown only stars. The air pulsed with energy, humid and heady with sex.
And the moans—
She followed them, hips tingling with every step, robe slipping lower with every heartbeat.
Then she saw them.
Men. Tall, black, muscular. Naked. Dozens.
Everywhere.
One on a couch, slowly stroking his cock. Another behind a mirror-world version of her, who was moaning on all fours, pussy glistening, ass up, tits bouncing as two more cocks pressed into her at once.
Mirror-Erica looked back at her and winked.
The real Erica gasped as the men turned toward her.
One approached, cock already swelling, a grin on his face that screamed ownership.
“Welcome home, slut,” he said, voice like thunder in her cunt.
Then he was on her.
The robe fell.
Hands gripped her thighs, lifted her onto the nearest table.
One thick cock slid between her lips before she could breathe—Mmmph!—while another slammed into her pussy, stretching her open with a raw, delicious ache that made her sob.
They didn’t stop.
Another cock shoved into her ass.
Her eyes rolled back.
She was full.
Mouth, pussy, ass—stuffed. Stretched. Fucked.
One hand on her throat. One slapping her tits. Cum splashing across her back as another man painted her skin.
She rode tongues and hands and cocks like they were oxygen.
No names. Just moans. Groans. Praise.
“Good girl.”
“Take it all.”
“Fuck, this bitch was made for it.”
They came in her holes. Filled her. Pulled out and fed her more. She sucked them clean, moaned for more, begged to be used again.
Time didn’t pass in that world. Only pleasure did.
She woke the next morning gasping.
Back in her bed. Sheets twisted, robe gone, lips swollen and wet.
Then she moved her thighs—and felt it.
Drip.
Warm.
Drip.
Soaked.
Cum leaked from her pussy in long, lazy trails. Her ass clenched—and pushed out more.
She whimpered.
It wasn’t a dream.
Her sheets were stained. Her body ruined. Her cunt still twitching.
She stumbled to the mirror, trembling.
Her throat bore finger-shaped bruises. Her tits? Bite marks. Her inner thighs? Painted.
She smiled. She had to go back.
*******
The next night, she brought Evie. Her sluttiest friend. Her partner in crime.
Evie didn’t believe her—until the door appeared again. Midnight. Brass keyhole glowing.
It swung open. Hot, golden light. Evie gasped.
“What the—Erica, is that—?”
“They’re real,” Erica whispered. “And they’re hungry.”
The men turned again. New cocks. Bigger. Veins like cords, tips already glistening.
Evie stepped forward—and was grabbed. Hands tore off her shirt. Lips crushed hers. Her skirt hit the floor. Her heels lifted.
The first cock pushed into her mouth.
Her muffled gasp became a moan as another slid into her slick, untouched pussy.
Erica dropped to her knees, smiling, swallowing thick inches, tears running down her cheeks from the sheer stretch of it. She moaned around it, hands on another shaft, stroking while her mouth was throat-deep in the first.
Evie was face down, hips up, already being pounded.
Her back arched, gasps turning to screams.
“Fuck, oh fuck—they’re so big, Erica—!”
“I know!” Erica cried, riding a man’s cock reverse, ass bouncing as another one slipped between her tits and came all over her face. “Just take it!”
All night, the two were used.
Pulled apart, made to kneel, bent over, filled again and again until they couldn’t walk, couldn’t think. Just holes. Just soaked little sluts in a golden, sex-warped mansion with no clocks, no rules.
Evie came so many times she lost count.
And when they woke up—
Their beds were soaked.
Their bodies wrecked.
Their real-world pussies dripping with fresh, warm cum.
Evie touched her lips. Cum there too. She groaned.
“We brought it back with us…”
“We are the door now,” Erica whispered, sliding her fingers through her folds and licking the taste off. “They marked us.”
And they had.
The next night? They went again. And again.
And every night after that.
No neighbours. No complaints. Just cock. Forever.
Welcome home, Erica.
********
