The New Neighbor and What Marina Discovered That Night

The bedroom wall vibrated with a rhythm that left no room for doubt. Dry, steady thuds, and above them a woman’s voice rising and falling like a distant siren. Daniel and Marina were lying in the dark, staring at the ceiling, both awake and both pretending not to be.

—I can’t take this anymore —murmured Marina, covering her head with the pillow—. We’ve been like this ever since he moved in. It’s like there’s an hourly hotel behind the headboard.

—It’s two in the morning —said Daniel, not moving.

—Exactly. I start work at seven. Can you go down there and say something? He’ll listen to you.

Daniel let out a slow breath. He knew there was no way out. He got up, tied his robe over his pajamas, and stepped barefoot into the landing, rubbing his eyes. The cold floor finished waking him up. He rang the doorbell across the hall twice and waited, with that uncomfortable feeling of someone who knows he’s about to become the building’s buzzkill.

The door opened almost immediately. The neighbor appeared in his underwear, his chest shining with sweat and a smile painted across his face. His name was Iván; he had moved in a little over a month ago, and in that time Daniel had only exchanged a couple of greetings with him in the elevator. Behind him, on a leather sofa, a very young girl was straightening her dress without much hurry, with a smear of semen still drying on her neckline and her thighs spread open as if she didn’t mind the neighbor seeing them.

—Any problem, neighbor? —asked Iván, leaning a shoulder against the frame.

—Look, sorry to bother you at this hour —said Daniel, swallowing—. I don’t want to make a fuss, but you can hear everything. My wife can’t sleep, and she gets up early tomorrow.

Iván gave a hearty laugh, without the slightest trace of embarrassment. —So that’s it? What do you want me to tell you, mate? It’s not my fault. Women like what they like, and when one of them starts screaming for it harder there’s no way to turn the volume down. —He shrugged—. Should I put a gag on her next time, or would you rather I shut her up with my cock? I’m saying it for your sake.

Daniel had no answer. The other man’s shamelessness left him standing in the doorway, mouth half-open. He muttered something like “good night” and went back to his flat feeling smaller than when he had left.

Marina was waiting for him seated on the bed, the lamp on. —Well? Did you talk to him?

—I talked to him —said Daniel, dropping down beside her—. He told me women scream because they want to, that it’s not his problem, and that I should put a gag on his.

Marina’s eyes opened wide. One part of her, the part that had to wake up in five hours, felt offended. But there was another part, quieter and deeper, that registered that answer and tucked it away somewhere. They didn’t mention the matter again that night. However, the image of the arrogant neighbor, his calm voice, that confidence bordering on insult, stuck to both of them like a smell that wouldn’t go away.

***

A week passed with silent walls and silence between them. It was Marina who, one afternoon, let the idea slip while setting the table.

—We should invite him to dinner —she said, without lifting her eyes from the plates—. To smooth things over. If we’re going to be neighbors, we should get along. I don’t want to be giving him the cold shoulder in the elevator for the rest of the year.

Daniel looked at her a moment longer than necessary. There was something in the way she had said it, too carefully thought out to be improvised. But he nodded. Anything, as long as they got back their quiet nights.

Iván accepted the invitation immediately, as if he had been expecting it. He arrived on Saturday right on time, with a bottle of wine that cost more than they spent in a month on dinners. He was well dressed, spoke even better, and during the first half hour he displayed a polished charm that didn’t quite hide something else underneath, something colder, more calculated. Marina laughed at his jokes a little more than she should have. Daniel noticed and poured himself another glass.

At dessert, with the wine already running through everyone’s veins, Iván set his glass on the table and looked at Marina over the candles.

—First of all, I want to apologize for the other night —he said—. I was rude to your husband. The thing is, the girls I bring home are kids. Pretty, yes, but empty. They only know how to spread their legs and ask me to come on their face. —He paused, without taking his eyes off her—. What I really like are real women. The ones who already know who they are, the ones who know how to suck a cock without pretending. Women with class. Like you, Marina.

Daniel felt his jaw tighten. Marina, on the other hand, felt the heat climb her neck to her cheeks and lowered her gaze to her glass. Beneath her dress, unable to help herself, she noticed her panties getting wet.

—The problem —Iván went on, speaking only to her, as if Daniel had turned invisible— is that women like that usually end up next to men who are too comfortable. Good husbands, quiet husbands, who come in two minutes and roll over to sleep. And inside, they slowly go out. Waiting for someone brave enough to fuck them the way they deserve.

The dining room air turned thick. Daniel put down his fork.

—I think that’s enough —he said, with less firmness than he intended.

—Enough? —Iván didn’t even look at him—. Do you think that’s enough for her? Tell me something, Marina. Are you the kind who puts on an apron to cook? The kind who pays attention to the details?

The question came so directly, so out of place and yet so precise, that Marina answered before thinking.

—Sometimes... yes.

—Put it on —said Iván. He didn’t ask. He said it like someone giving an instruction he knew would be obeyed—. I want to see it. And take off your panties before you come back. Leave them in the kitchen.

Daniel looked at his wife, expecting refusal, the slam of a hand on the table, the indignation he himself did not dare have. But Marina stood up slowly, almost in silence, and walked to the kitchen as if carried by a current. They heard the brush of fabric against skin, the faint rustle of panties falling to the floor. She came back wearing a light linen apron tied at the waist, and underneath, with her legs bare down to the hem of the dress she had pulled back down over herself. She had put it on with her eyes lowered, without looking at either of them.

Iván looked her over from head to toe and smiled with the satisfaction of someone who had guessed correctly.

—Look at you —he said softly—. There, you’re different. You don’t look like anyone’s wife. You look like someone who finally knows where she belongs. On her knees. Against the table. With a cock inside her.

He got up and walked around the table. He stood behind her and put his hands on her waist, over the fabric of the apron, unhurried, marking each movement so Daniel could see clearly. He lifted her dress from behind, rolled it up over her hip, and left Marina’s ass exposed beneath the apron tie. Daniel remained nailed to his chair, trapped between the shame burning his face and a murky fascination he didn’t dare name. He wanted to shout. No voice came out. Beneath his trousers, to his horror, he could feel his cock getting hard.

—Here —murmured Iván against Marina’s ear, one hand spreading her cheeks and the other sliding between her thighs—. This is where you should have been. You’re soaked, look at you. You’re dripping for your husband and for me, and you know it.

Iván’s fingers sank into Marina’s cunt to the knuckles. She jolted, braced both hands on the table, and let her head fall. He opened her with two fingers, parted her slowly, and pulled out his fingers shining and wet to suck them in front of Daniel.

—See how your wife tastes, neighbor? —he said, savoring them slowly—. Have you ever tasted her like this, when she’s dying to get fucked?

Marina let out a long, embarrassed moan, and spread her legs a little more without deciding to. Iván pushed his fingers into her again, this time three, and worked her carefully, digging inside until she began moving her hips against his hand, searching for more. With the other hand he undid her dress completely and let it fall to the floor, and there was Marina, in front of her husband, naked except for the apron, her tits hanging over the table and her ass pressed against the neighbor’s zipper.

—Suck me first —said Iván, turning her around with his hands on her shoulders—. I want your husband to see you getting on your knees.

Marina obeyed. She sank onto the parquet floor without taking her eyes off the ground, fumbled open his pants with clumsy fingers, and pulled out his cock, thick and already hard, with a vein running clearly from top to bottom. She held it for a second in her palm, as if measuring what was coming for her. Then she opened her mouth and took it all the way in, gagging. Iván grabbed her head with both hands and began fucking her mouth without mercy, setting the pace, forcing her to take him to the base.

—Look carefully, Daniel —said Iván without hurrying, his eyes fixed on the husband while the husband’s wife drooled over his cock—. Look how she sucks. Look what she needed and you never gave her. Notice how she’s crying and I’m not letting her go. She loves it.

Marina sucked him hungrily, her chin wet with saliva, coughing and swallowing again. She licked her lips and ran her tongue over his balls, one by one, while looking up at him with watery eyes. Daniel couldn’t move. His cock was straining hard against the fabric of his trousers and he hated his own body for giving him away.

—Get up —ordered Iván, tugging her hair—. To the edge of the table. Face down. And spread your legs wide, because I want your husband to see everything.

She rose trembling and bent over the table where, ten minutes earlier, the three of them had been eating dinner. She pressed her chest against the tablecloth, pushed the plates aside with her arm, and spread her legs. The apron was still tied at her waist, an absurd decoration that covered nothing. Iván positioned himself behind her, ran the tip of his cock over her cunt lips, up and down, soaking himself in what was running down her thighs.

—Ask me —he said—. In front of him. Tell your husband what you want.

—Put it in —whispered Marina against the wood.

—Louder.

—Put it in, please. Fuck me in front of him.

Iván entered her in one thrust, all the way in, and Marina let out a hoarse cry that muffled itself against the tablecloth. He began fucking her slowly, pulling his cock almost all the way out before sinking back in to the balls, each hit a dry slap against her naked ass. Marina clung to the edge of the table with white knuckles and answered by pushing her hips back, searching for him, moaning louder and louder now without caring that Daniel was two meters away watching her.

—Look at her, Daniel —repeated Iván, gripping her hips and driving deeper—. Look how she opens for me. Look how it runs down her legs. Have you ever fucked her like this? Did you even know she liked it?

Daniel saw his wife’s naked back arching, her tits bouncing against the tablecloth with every thrust, her fingers gripping the wood, the apron still tied at her waist like a mockery. He saw how she breathed with her mouth open, how she gave herself up, how one “yes” after another slipped out of her, dirtier and dirtier, more begged for every time, while the neighbor whispered in her ear, told her she was a slut, that she was his slut, told her to say it. And Marina repeated it. She repeated it to him and she repeated it to her husband, between moans, with her face flattened against the tablecloth and her ass raised. And the worst part of all was not the hate. The worst was recognizing that he wasn’t looking away, and that he was touching himself over his trousers without realizing it.

Iván pulled her up from her chest, straightened her against his body, grabbed her tits with both hands, and kept fucking her standing up, her back pressed to his torso, her head fallen over his shoulder. He bit her neck, pinched her nipples, whispered that he was about to come, and that she was going to come with him, and that she was going to look at her husband when it happened. Marina, with glassy eyes, turned her head toward Daniel and held his gaze for one endless instant. Then she exploded. She came with a long shiver that shook her whole body, mouth open, throat rough, clenching her cunt around the neighbor’s cock as if she didn’t want to let it go.

Iván held out for another minute, hammering her against the table, and when he finally groaned he drove his cock all the way in and came inside without asking anyone. Marina shuddered at the feel of the hot stream filling her, and moaned again, lower now, already spent. When he pulled his cock out, a thick rope of semen slid down her thigh, ran to her knee, and stained her calf, and she made no move at all to wipe it away.

Marina let herself be carried to the end, discovering in that public humiliation a form of pleasure she had never allowed herself to feel. The neighbor had taken her as if she belonged to him, had whispered in her ear who was in charge, while across the table her husband watched, mute and hard, the slow collapse of everything he thought was safe. When it was over, the dining room held only the broken sound of three breaths and the weight of something that could no longer be undone.

Iván stood up calmly, picked up his glass from the table, and took one last sip as if none of it had disturbed his night. He tucked his still-shining cock back into his trousers without bothering to clean himself. Marina was still bent over the table, catching her breath, with the neighbor’s semen sliding down her thighs, not daring to turn around. Daniel looked at the wrinkled tablecloth, the dark stain his wife had left on the wood, and understood, too late, that thin walls had been the least of his problems.

—Thanks for dinner —said Iván from the doorway, buttoning his shirt—. Next time I want her on all fours when she opens the door. And you, neighbor, sitting in your chair. We’ll have to do this again.

And from Marina’s silence, from the way she did not say no, from the way she was still lying on the table with her ass up and her legs open even after hearing the door close, Daniel knew they would do it again.