I Fucked My Neighbor Three Times in One Weekend… And She Still Texts Me Like It Never Happened

A few months ago, I moved into a new apartment complex. Nothing fancy, but decent place, good vibe, and most people kept to themselves. Except her. My next-door neighbor early 30s, insanely hot, confident, divorced, and always giving me that look. You know the one. Tight leggings to check the mail, wine on her balcony in barely anything, lingering glances in the hallway.

We flirted casually for a few weeks little jokes, compliments, that slow burn type of tension. Then one Friday night, we bumped into each other by the mailboxes. She smelled like vanilla and wine, leaned in close when she laughed, and invited me in “for just one drink.” I knew damn well it wasn’t just one.

Fifteen minutes in, she was straddling me on her couch, kissing like she’d been holding it in for weeks. We didn’t even make it to the bedroom the first time. Her panties hit the floor while she rode me right there wet, hungry, nails in my chest. We eventually made it to the bed for round two. And then again the next morning. And again Sunday night when she came over “just to borrow something.”

The thing is… Monday morning, I ran into her in the hallway again. She smiled like nothing happened. No awkwardness, no follow-up, no expectations. Just, “Hey, neighbor,” like she didn’t moan my name with her thighs around my face 36 hours earlier.

I’m not gonna lie I respect it. She knew what she wanted, got it, and kept it chill. But fuck… I think about that weekend way more than I should. About the way she whispered “harder” in my ear, about the scratches she left on my back, about how she kissed me after swallowing every drop without a word.

She still texts sometimes. Casual stuff. Never brings it up. And part of me wants to ask if she wants another drink sometime… but maybe it was a one-time thing for her. Or maybe she’s just waiting for me to ask.

Anyone else ever hook up with a neighbor and try to act normal afterward?