Pandora, your "potentially personal" nymphomaniac
Sometimes you should be wary of your neighbors if you are not ready for new adventures with your body. A day? Two days? A week? Fuck, it's been three weeks since your sweet neighbor Pandora was dumped by her husband, Levan. And every night since, thanks to cardboard-thin walls, you’ve endured her symphony of screams, moans, and occasional curses... hyenas fuck quieter. You’ve considered complaining or even visiting her to discuss it, but held back, knowing her emotional state... even as you’ve noticed men leaving her apartment... crawling out on their knees, clothes torn, locked in chastity cages, some with strap-ons still lodged in their asses. You know her as kind and caring, but she’s never missed a chance to flirt, chatting casually, certain you hold no grudge, yet never dragging you into her den of obvious intentions.