It's a filthy habit. I knew I should quit. I'll stop tomorrow, I kept telling myself, once more contaminating my once fortress of a body, the long draw of nicotine too alluring to resist.

I wasn't a heavy smoker, but I had my routine. At night-time, 11:30 p.m., like clockwork, I'd quietly close my apartment door, descend the long flight of stairs, and step out into the night air.

The neighbourhood was quiet, the flats occupied mostly by young professionals or older folks who'd lived there for years and who spent their days walking around the park with a dog weirdly resembling their own appearance; I'd never understood the expression until then.

The area surrounding the front door to the building was pleasant and welcoming.

The flowerbeds and jet-washed paving separated the residence from the less well-cared-for blocks in the vicinity. Large round boulders sat around the circumference, their purpose aesthetic, but doubling up as a convenient seat for the resident smokers.

With the lateness of the hour came a notable hush, the silence in stark contrast to the bustling city a short journey away. Transport links and employment opportunities pushing the "gentrification" further and further afield.

For months, ever since moving in, I'd sat each night alone, just my thoughts for company, as I puffed away on my death sticks.

That changed the day I was followed out of the main door by a fellow smoker. I'd not seen her before, as was the case with almost all of my neighbours, everyone content to keep themselves to themselves.

I'd have guessed her to be slightly older than me, maybe 35 or 36, 5'5, with shoulder-length blonde hair and soft, endearing facial features.

She spoke with what I guessed was an American accent, her simple 'thanks' at my holding the door enough for me to recognise the southern US twang.

We sat apart, big city etiquette dictating the inappropriateness of conversing with a stranger. It's a rule hardwired into me, so I thought nothing of it.

As time went on, however, our passings became more frequent. It felt as though my unnamed neighbour appeared each time I stepped outside.

Comfortably settled at home each evening, I'd be wearing an old t-shirt, shorts, and flip-flops serving as slippers. I noticed early on that her attire was almost identical to mine, except she wore real, pink, fluffy slippers.

As time went by, I noticed how tightly her t-shirt hugged her slender body. Had that been the case before? I'd certainly never ogled, but I surely would have seen the solid bumps of her nipples poking against her top during the many occasions we found ourselves outside together.

It was months since our first encounter, and we had still barely exchanged a hello.

I was still deep in thought about her too-tight top when, too late, I realised I was staring.

I looked up from her chest to her face to find she was looking back at me.

Shit. I'd been caught red-handed glaring at her boobs.

Rather than shout or complain, I was surprised to see a smile play across her face before she glanced down at her own chest as if to ask, 'You like these, eh?'

I returned a look, meant as a smile, but in reality, something between an apology and a grimace, before I quickly diverted my gaze.

That was the end of our brief interaction, and a few days passed before we once again met on the big stones outside.

It was late, close to 1;00 a.m. I'd been out late with friends and had only just got home, changed, and made my way for a final nicotine intake before bed. I was surprised when, moments after I stepped outside, she came out behind me.

Remembering our previous encounter, I smiled and said hello, pleasantries which she casually returned.

I was beginning to wonder if our meetings were more than mere coincidence; she seemed to appear every time I was there. Feuling this thought further was the dressing gown wrapped around her; it looked like she'd thrown it on straight out of bed.

It was a warm summer evening, and the material looked silky and thin. Despite the warmth, I once again noticed her erect nipples as she sat down facing me, her head conspicuously turned away as though inviting me to steal a look.

As she sparked up her smoke, she dropped her lighter. I was still looking as she bent forward to pick it up, a movement which caused the front of her gown to move away from her chest, fully revealing her pert little breasts.

She straightened up and turned towards me, the devilish smile she'd given me last time adorning her face again tenfold. Her sultry gaze met my wide-eyed shock. I could feel my cock stiffening in my shorts, her piercing gaze so suggestive. I immediately thought of how visible my bulge must be when her eyes darted down to my groin. I instinctively looked down as well, and indeed my engorged knob was clearly outlined.

My initial embarrassment was short-lived; glancing back up, that devious, suggestive smile had somehow become even more so. What's more, her free hand was inside the front of her robe, circling her aroused nipple unashamedly.

My suspicions were well and truly confirmed; it was abundantly clear she was enjoying this little game.

My confidence rising, inhibitions ebbing away, I started to roll up the leg of my shorts. We were both openly staring at one another by now, and as I rolled far enough to expose the tip of my penis, she untied the silk rope protecting her modesty, exposing her breasts.

I edged my shorts up further till the right leg sat scrunched around my thigh, my rock-hard penis fully exposed.

The naughtiness of the situation had me unbearably turned on; the thrilling danger of our mutual exhibitionism, right outside our front door, all initiated by my horny neighbour whose name I didn't yet know.

I flicked my cigarette towards the drain, and she did the same with hers. I signalled with my eyes towards the front door of our building; I needed to fuck this brazen slut, and I was pretty sure she wanted it too.

She nodded her agreement, stood up, and nearly ran towards the entrance. I chased in behind her as she sprinted up the stairs.

She reached the first floor and through the door to the hallway before I caught her, grabbing hold of her shoulder and spinning her around. My flat being the first on the right as you enter the long, straight corridor, I pressed her against the wooden door, one hand beside her head, the other fumbling with the lock, as we stared intensely at each other.

The door opened, and we fell through and over the threshold. Her apartment presumably had the same split-level duplex layout as mine, as she made straight for the stairs to the bedrooms. Instead, I held her back by the waist and roughly pulled her down the hall to the living room.

The space was open plan, with the kitchen at the far end and the living area immediately as you walk through the door. Still holding her waist, I pushed her over the back of the sofa situated right by the doorway; she fell over the back and came to rest, lying across its length. I followed her over the top, laying across her on my knees, my left hand again beside her head to maintain my balance.

She still had that smile. The more I saw it, the more irresistible it became. It was still there as she opened her mouth and said, "I'm not wearing any panties." She slipped the silk gown off her shoulder, letting it fall open. Up close, I could see each individual raised bump of her areola, encircling her small but fully erect nipples. Looking down past her perfectly flat stomach, her hand had made its way between her legs, running over her completely shaved pubic area, spreading wetness from between her lips over her clit.

Typically, this is the point I'd tease and seduce her into an insatiable state of arousal, replacing her hand with mine to probe her needy hole, moving down her body to flick her bulging clit with my tongue. Yet, I felt on this occasion, the foreplay had taken a slightly different form, starting back with the first time she noticed my overt look and responded with delight.

I wasted no time in peeling off my own clothes and stripping her so that we both lay naked.

The ogling continued for another minute; she stared longingly at my rock-hard penis, and I feasted my eyes on her dripping wet cunt.

As we looked up and our eyes locked, she spoke again, "What are you waiting for? Fuck me already."

It was definitely an American twang, the sexy, sultry accent, her words demanding my cock, enough to see it stiffen further, bobbing up and down involuntarily.

I unceremoniously parted her legs, her bald cunt visibly coated in a layer of her sexual secretions, and, without hesitation, I plunged between her lips.

The manic escalation of the intense experience left me on the verge of exploding straight away. My new friend seemed to be in the same situation, the slippery, spongy walls of her vagina immediately contracting, hugging my penis tightly, her instant wails of pleasure further indicating my neighbour was a complete slut.

As I dug my nails into her hips whilst pounding her with everything I had, she strummed her clit to add to her stimulation. All the while encouraging me, "Fuck me!", "Fuck me harder!", "make me cum!", "I love how your cock feels in my cunt!"

I'd never experienced sex with such a vocal woman before, and I couldn't quite believe how much it added to my arousal. I responded in grunts and groans of pleasure, brain capacity exclusively focused on holding back ejaculation, words unable to form.

Despite my firm grip and intense thrusting, it was undoubtedly her in control; without warning, she pushed up against me, knocking me back far enough for her to spin around and perch on her knees, her arse waving at me, inviting - or directing - me to pound her from behind. This girl knew what she wanted, and I was only too happy to oblige.

Still, as hot as it was with her directing proceedings, I felt a deep-rooted need to assert an element of my own dominance.

As I crouched behind her, rubbing more of her lubricating juices from her cunt, up and down the length of my shaft, I slipped just my head into her waiting hole. I probed a few times until she huffed in frustration at my continued denial. Rather than submit to her desire, I moved my knob up to her exposed anus.

Her gasp betrayed her surprise, and I revelled in my cunning, hitting her with a smile as deviant as her own as she turned to look back at me.

Had she expressed a genuine objection, I wouldn't, of course, have forced myself into her, yet she did not, which I guessed amounted to permission.

I took it as such and pressed more firmly against the tight, puckered hole. My cock was so slick from her sopping pussy that it quickly lubricated between her cheeks, allowing me to push through and into her backside.

She gasped as I pressed fully into her, where I rested for a moment to let her adjust to the sensation of her bum full of cock. I started slowly pushing in and out, her moans becoming more pleasure-filled with each thrust, until I was once more pounding her with gusto, and she screamed with ecstasy.

She soon started rubbing her clit between her legs, supplementing my destruction of her arse; she began to writhe and shake uncontrollably, becoming even louder as she hit the height of her orgasm.

It was enough to send me over the edge, and with a final pump, I unloaded jets of spunk deep into her arse.

Spent, satisfied, and still shocked, I collapsed backwards, my dick falling out of her anus, followed by a steady stream of cum dripping onto my couch. Worth it.

She fell backwards as well, reading and resting between my legs as we caught our breath and recovered.

I don't know how long we laid there for, but as I looked down at her naked body, my hands were drawn to her still-hard nipples. I gently caressed her breasts, rolling the sensitive nubs between my fingers to the sound of her soft purrs; my cock stirring once more beneath her.

Then she turned to face me and said, "That's enough for one day, big boy."

She wrapped her robe back around her body and slipped on her footwear. I followed her to my door, where she once again gave me that irrefutable smile, "Thanks, baby, that was incredible. I'll see ya outside again soon, I hope." I was speechless still but also smiling and nodded in agreement.

Just before she walked down the hall to home, she said, "I'm Sandy, by the way!"

"Nick" was my feeble reply, about the only word I'd spoken to her throughout.

"Bye, Nick!"

And with a wink and a little wave, she was gone.

Maybe I wouldn't quit smoking after all.