Fucked a drunk Passed out girl

My name is Alex, and I stay alone in one big apartment complex. You know, those kinds of places where people are always in hurry, music blaring from everywhere, but nobody really talks to each other properly. Everyone minds their own business, like in Mumbai or Delhi hostels, but this was in Bangalore, near the IT parks. I was doing my engineering, sharing nothing with anyone, just my small one-room flat on the third floor.

But there was one person who caught my eye from day one. Abigail, my next-door neighbor. She had been living there for almost a year now. She was a student too, studying commerce or something in some college nearby. Abigail was always so friendly, with that big smile that lit up the whole corridor. She had a bunch of friends who came over all the time, girls and boys laughing and chatting late into the night. I would hear their parties from my side of the wall, the thump of music making my heart race because I knew she was there, dancing or talking.

I had a massive crush on her. Her long black hair, those dark eyes that sparkled when she laughed, and her figure—oh man, she was curvy in all the right places. Full breasts that strained against her tight tops, a round ass that swayed when she walked to the lift. But I was too shy. Every time I saw her in the hallway, I could only manage a quick 'hi' or 'hello', my face turning red like a tomato. She would smile back, say something sweet like 'How are you, Alex?', but that was it. I never had the guts to ask her out or even chat more.

So, most days, I would make excuses to bump into her. Like, pretending to check the mailbox at the same time, or waiting for the lift just when she came out. But nothing ever happened. I would go back to my room, lock the door, and think about her while jerking off. Imagining her naked, her soft skin under my hands, her moans filling the room. It was pathetic, but that's how it was.

Then, one evening, luck smiled on me. Or so I thought. There was a delivery guy who came to my door by mistake. He had a big brown box, and when I opened, the label said 'Abigail Sharma, Flat 305'. That's her! My heart pounded. Perfect chance to talk to her alone, without her noisy friends around.

I waited. That night, her flat was rocking with a party. I could hear the bass from the speakers, girls giggling, boys shouting. Beer bottles clinking, someone singing off-key. It went on till late, around 1 AM, when things finally quieted down. The door to her flat opened and closed a few times as her friends left, their footsteps echoing in the empty corridor. Then silence. I figured she must be alone now, maybe tired from the party.

I grabbed the package, my hands sweating a bit. Took a deep breath, like before an exam, and walked to her door. The corridor light was flickering, casting shadows. I knocked softly at first. 'Abigail? It's Alex from next door. You have a delivery.' No answer. Just the hum of the AC from inside.

I knocked again, harder this time. 'Abigail? Package for you!' Still nothing. A weird feeling crept up my back, like something was wrong. I tried the door handle. It turned easily. The door wasn't locked! It creaked open a little. 'Hello? Abigail?' I pushed it wider, peeking in.

The lights were dim, only a small lamp in the corner glowing yellow. Soft music was still playing from her phone or speaker, some slow Bollywood song. The living room was messy—empty plates, beer cans scattered, confetti on the floor from the party. And then I saw her.

Abigail was on the floor, near the sofa. Collapsed, like she had fallen. Her eyes were closed, body limp. She was wearing a short red dress that had ridden up her thighs, showing her black panties. Her chest rose and fell slowly, breathing steady but deep. Passed out cold. Maybe too much alcohol, or whatever they were drinking at the party. My mind raced. Is she okay? Should I call someone?

But then, something dark clicked inside me. She was alone. Unconscious. The door was open. No one around. My crush, the girl I dreamed about every night, lying there helpless. My cock stirred in my pants instantly. I looked around—no one in the corridor. The complex was quiet at this hour. I stepped inside and closed the door behind me, locking it with a soft click. Heart hammering, I knelt beside her.

'Abigail?' I whispered, shaking her shoulder gently. No response. Her skin was warm, a bit sweaty from the party. I could smell her perfume mixed with alcohol. She was out like a light. I scooped her up in my arms— she was light, her head lolling against my chest. Her breasts pressed against me through the dress. I carried her to the bedroom, which was half-open. The bed was unmade, clothes thrown around.

I laid her down on the bed carefully, like she was sleeping. But she wasn't waking up. I stood there, breathing heavy, staring at her. Her dress had hiked up more, exposing her thighs and the edge of her panties. Her lips were parted, lipstick smudged a little. My dick was rock hard now, straining against my jeans. This was wrong, I knew. But the temptation was too much. She wouldn't know. It would be our secret. I would finally have her, the way I always wanted.

Trembling with excitement, I started undressing her. First, I unzipped the back of her dress. It was tight, hugging her curves. I peeled it down her shoulders, revealing her black lace bra. Her breasts were full, spilling over the cups. I pulled the dress lower, over her hips, and off her legs. She was in just her bra and panties now, her body pale in the dim light from the bedside lamp.

I unhooked the bra next. It came off easy, and her tits bounced free. Big, round, with dark brown nipples that were hard from the cool air. I stared, mouth dry. They were even better than I imagined. Soft and perky. I couldn't resist—I leaned down and sucked on one nipple, my tongue flicking it. She didn't move, just a soft sigh escaped her lips, but her eyes stayed closed.

Emboldened, I hooked my fingers into her panties and slid them down. Her pussy came into view—shaved clean, lips pink and slightly parted. A little wet, maybe from the party or sweat. I spread her legs wider, taking in the sight. Her ass cheeks were round and firm. I turned her over gently, pulling the panties off completely. Now she was fully naked, lying there like a doll for me to play with.

I stripped off my own clothes quickly. Shirt, jeans, underwear—all gone. My cock sprang out, thick and veiny, already leaking pre-cum. It was average size, but hard as steel. I climbed onto the bed, positioning myself between her legs. Her pussy looked inviting. I rubbed my cockhead against her slit, feeling the warmth. She was a bit dry, so I spat on my hand and stroked myself, then rubbed it on her.

Slowly, I pushed in. Her pussy was tight, resisting at first. I gripped her hips and thrust harder, inch by inch. Finally, the head popped inside. She was warm and snug around me. I groaned, sliding deeper. Her walls clenched involuntarily as I buried myself to the hilt. It felt amazing, better than any handjob or porn. I started fucking her pussy, slow at first to savor it.

In and out, my cock stretching her. The bed creaked softly. I leaned over her, sucking on her neck, leaving marks. Her tits jiggled with each thrust. I grabbed them, squeezing hard, pinching the nipples. She mumbled something incoherent, but didn't wake. Maybe she was dreaming. I picked up speed, pounding her harder. Slap slap slap—my balls hitting her ass. Her pussy got wetter, juices coating my shaft. I could feel her body responding, even if her mind was out.

I fucked her like that for ten minutes, sweat dripping down my back. The room smelled of sex now, mixed with her perfume. I was close, but I didn't want to cum yet. I wanted more. Pulling out, my cock slick with her wetness, I flipped her onto her stomach. Her ass was up, cheeks spread a little. I spread them wider, exposing her tight asshole.

It was puckered, virgin tight I bet. I spat on it, rubbing my finger around. Then, I pressed my cockhead against it. It was harder to enter. I pushed steady, feeling the resistance. She winced in her sleep, body tensing, but I kept going. Inch by inch, I forced my way in. Her ass gripped me like a vice, hot and tight. I gasped at the sensation. Finally, I was balls deep in her ass.

I started thrusting, slow and deep. It hurt her a bit, I could tell from her soft whimpers, but she stayed unconscious. I reached under and rubbed her pussy while fucking her ass, making it easier. Her cheeks jiggled with each slam. I spanked her ass lightly, watching it turn pink. 'Oh Abigail, your ass is mine,' I whispered, lost in the moment.

The tightness was intense. I fucked her ass faster, the friction building. Her hole stretched around me, accommodating my cock. I pulled her hair gently, arching her back. Sweat poured off us both. After a few minutes, I couldn't hold it. I slammed in deep and came, shooting hot cum inside her ass. Rope after rope, filling her up. I groaned loud, collapsing on her back.

Panting, I pulled out. Cum leaked from her ass, white and sticky. But I wasn't done. I wanted her mouth. I turned her over again, her face peaceful. I knelt beside her head, lifting it slightly. Her lips were soft. I rubbed my softening cock against them, smearing cum and her juices.

Then, I pushed in. Her mouth was warm, tongue limp. I slid deeper, feeling her teeth graze lightly. Careful not to wake her, I fucked her mouth slow. In and out, my cock hardening again from the wetness. Saliva pooled around her lips. I held her jaw open, thrusting to the back of her throat. She gagged a little unconsciously, but swallowed around me.

It was sloppy, amazing. Her cheeks hollowed as I moved. I face-fucked her gently, watching her tits rise and fall. The sight pushed me over. I came again, this time in her mouth. Cum flooded her tongue, some dribbling out. I held her head till I finished, then pulled out.

Now, reality hit. I had raped her—pussy, ass, mouth. Panic rose, but I had to clean up. I got off the bed, grabbed tissues from her table. Wiped her pussy and ass gently, cleaning the cum. Her mouth too, dabbing away the mess. I dressed her back—panties, bra, dress zipped up. Made sure she looked like she just passed out on the bed.

I put my clothes on, heart still racing. Tucked her under the blanket, like she was sleeping peacefully. The package—I left it on the kitchen table. Slipped out the door, locking it behind me. Back in my flat, I locked my door and collapsed on my bed. Everything went back to normal, or so it seemed.

Next morning, I saw her in the corridor. She looked tired, rubbing her head. 'Hi Alex,' she said with a weak smile. 'Oh, thanks for the package. I was so drunk last night, don't remember much.' I nodded, acting normal. 'No problem.' Inside, I was thrilled. She didn't know. Our secret.

Days passed. I watched her more closely. She seemed fine, going to college, having friends over. But sometimes, she walked a bit funny, like sore. I jerked off thinking about that night, replaying every thrust. Life in the complex continued—loud, busy, anonymous. But now, I had a piece of her forever.

One week later, another chance. She knocked on my door. 'Alex, can I borrow some sugar? Party tonight.' I smiled, handing it over. Our eyes met longer this time. Maybe she sensed something, or maybe not. But I knew—I would find another way.