The Old Neighbor Who Celebrated My Infidelities

Aitor had stepped out for a moment while Sonia got ready in the other room. He had something pending at Amparo’s apartment and very little time. The old woman opened the door on the third ring, and he rushed in like a gust of wind all the way to the living room. She closed the door and followed him at the slowest pace, shuffling her slippers down the hallway.

—Look at this —he said, holding his phone right up in her face with his arm outstretched.

Amparo calmly studied what the boy was trying to show her. After a few endless seconds, she looked away from the screen and fixed her eyes on him.

—You’d have to be stupid to think that at my age I can read that ant-sized print without my glasses.

Aitor swallowed a curse and swept the living room with his eyes. It didn’t take him long to spot the glasses on the side table, and he handed them over.

—Here —he urged—. Now read it.

She took the glasses and the phone and sat down on the sofa with a slowness that drove the young man crazy. With the glasses halfway down her nose and the phone held in both hands, she read slowly, moving her lips and sliding her finger to the end of the text. She frowned and read it a second time, as if she still couldn’t quite believe it.

—The message is from my girlfriend —he explained, fed up with waiting for a reaction.

Amparo nodded, as if she had already reached that conclusion on her own, and began to draw a wicked smile. She removed the glasses, put them back in their case, and returned the phone to him.

—Your girlfriend… does she hate you?

—No. She loves me madly. She adores me! —he corrected, somewhat embarrassed.

The woman raised an eyebrow, suspicious, and leaned back on the sofa. She wasn’t buying that for a second.

—Yeah, right, damn it. What you just read is our little game. Some dares we set each other to keep the spark alive.

—To torture each other —she clarified.

—Yes… no. Well… —he rubbed his forehead with two fingers—. That’s the idea. We like winding each other up, and now it’s my turn to follow through.

—Let me get this straight. Your girlfriend, the one who loves you madly, asks you to film yourself jerking off with the panties of your “old neighbor”?

—With my neighbor the “swimsuit model,” actually —he corrected.

Amparo burst out laughing at how ridiculous it all sounded. Then she rested her arms on the back of the sofa, like a queen on her throne. She had just received the most titillating news in years of her life: her young neighbor, that breathtaking boy, was going to wank himself with one of her panties. She bit her lower lip, savoring the fantasy, imagining the kid’s hard cock pounding between the fabric of her underwear.

—Don’t get any ideas, Doña Eustaquia —he said, guessing what she was thinking—. I’m not touching your old-lady rags with tongs. I brought my own from home.

From his pocket he pulled out a pair of white lace panties. The last ones he had left from Sonia, his father’s girlfriend. His neighbor clicked her tongue, annoyed, but didn’t lose that mischievous smile.

—This is what we’re going to do —he explained—. You stand over there, talking about your little war stories, like you’re busy. I film in secret, so it looks like a stolen video. Then I pretend I’m going to the bathroom, go into your room, take these panties from wherever you keep your things, and jerk off locked inside. I send the video to my girlfriend and that’s it.

Amparo listened with an interest she made no effort to hide, nodding at every step of the plan. When he finished, she pointed toward the bedroom. What that kid had going with his girlfriend was absurd nonsense, but she was having a blast taking part in it.

—Second drawer of the nightstand on the left.

That was all Aitor needed to hear. He turned around and headed down the hallway to the old woman’s room. A sweet fruit scent filled his nose; that, along with the yellowing photographs on the wall, completed the room’s retro feel.

On the nightstand rested portraits of her late husband and of her holding a child in her arms. Underneath he found the drawer. He opened it and inside found a heap of lingerie. He compared the garment he was carrying with the ones he was seeing.

Passes muster. They could pass for hers.

He set the panties down carefully, as if afraid of contaminating them, and closed the piece of furniture. Before leaving, he thought about snooping through the rest of the drawers, but the possibility of coming across some toy of the old woman’s made him give it up.

***

—You took a long time —Amparo said when he returned to the living room.

—What did you expect? I rummaged through your things as fast as I could.

She raised an eyebrow, unsure whether to believe him, but the look he gave her nearly singed her eyebrows off.

—Come on, stand there like you’re doing something useful —she ordered.

The woman, already getting up, went over to a display cabinet and opened the glass door. Inside were some fine crystal glasses, and she made a show of cleaning them. Aitor raised the phone and started recording.

—What about the army? —she said with her back turned, pretending to carry on a half-finished conversation—. The one my late husband did in Ceuta, no contest.

—I’m going to the bathroom for a second, Amparo —he announced at an exaggerated volume.

Arm raised, trying not to let the image shake, he made his way through the house and slipped back into the old woman’s room.

—Corporal Otero —came her voice from the background—. What a piece of work he was.

Aitor opened the drawer and ran his hand over the lingerie, pretending to choose.

—These ones —he whispered into the microphone.

Then he went into the bathroom and locked himself in. Once again, a pleasant jasmine scent brought him an odd calm, like a happy memory. He set the phone on the toilet tank and positioned himself in front of it, naked from the waist down. His cock hung heavy between his legs, the glans already peeking from under the foreskin; just thinking about the game with Noelia was enough to start swelling his balls.

He unfolded the panties in front of the camera and brought them to his nose, inhaling with his eyes closed. He slid his tongue between the lace, licked the lining over the ass as if he might still taste the woman who had worn them, and moaned softly so the phone would catch it.

—Is this what you wanted? —he said to the lens—. Well, here you go, so you can see I love you more than my own life. Look how the old bitch’s pussy smells, slut, look how hard it gets me.

He smelled them again, kissed them, sucked on them. He ran the lace over his lips, his chin, his neck, while with the other hand he grabbed his dick and started jerking off bare, very slowly, up and down, feeling the blood pumping through the veins in his shaft. His cock was rock hard in seconds, pointing at the ceiling, thick, with the purple tip showing every time he pulled the skin back.

Then he wrapped the garment around his member and began to rub, encasing his dick in the damp lace of his own saliva. The rough feel of the fabric against the glans tore a gasp from him. He clenched his fist around the panties and around his cock, and started pumping hard, jerking off in front of the camera so Noelia could see everything.

—I’m doing this for you, Noelia. I’m jerking off with the panties of a woman much older than me. —His forehead was furrowed and his face tight with effort—. Look how my cock gets, bitch, look how it’s dripping. And I’m going to think about her when I come, about how I’d fuck her, just like you wanted.

He spat on his hand, smeared the shaft well, and wrapped it again in the panties. The phone image caught the hard cock moving inside the white lace, the glans appearing and disappearing, the swollen veins in the shaft, the tense balls slapping against his wrist. He began pumping faster, angrier with every stroke, clenching his teeth.

—I’d fuck her all damn night, Noelia. I’d open her cunt with my tongue, suck her sagging old-lady tits, shove my cock all the way in. —He was panting, his left hand braced against the bathroom wall and his right hand moving nonstop—. I’d fuck her ass, you hear me? I’d open it with two fingers first and then I’d shove the whole cock in, and I’d come inside her, and I’d watch my load drip between her ass cheeks.

The lace chafed, the spit dried and he spit again into his palm. He grabbed his balls with the other hand, squeezed them, stretched the skin of his scrotum to last longer. His face twisted in grimaces of pleasure that the phone camera captured mercilessly.

—Fuck, Noelia, fuck, this feels so good, what you’re making me do. I’m thinking about how the old woman rides me, how she sits on top of me and makes her tits bounce while my cock sinks all the way into her cunt. Can you picture it, slut? Can you picture your boyfriend jerking off with the stinking panties of some old lady in the building?

He pulled away for a moment, yanked the panties up over the glans, rubbed them over the tip, drooling pre-cum onto the lace. The fabric was getting stained, soaked, with a thick transparent bead threading from the meatus to the inside of the garment. Aitor growled at the sight, licked his palm, and grabbed his dick again with the panties wrapped around it.

—Almost there, almost there… My balls are about to burst, Noelia. I’m going to soak the old woman through. I’m going to leave the panties a filthy mess so she puts them on later and feels my spunk stuck to her cunt.

He sped up, his hand a blur, his thighs tight, his ass clenched, thrusting his hips against his own fist. Quite a while later, amid obscenities and gasps, his orgasm climbed up his cock in a long, painful spasm and he started shooting thick ropes of semen over the lace. The first spattered all the way to his chest; the second, third, and fourth soaked the panty until it was dripping. Aitor milked his cock from the base, squeezing out every last drop, letting the final pearls fall directly onto the white fabric. He ended with the garment ruined, dripping spunk from the lace edges. He showed it to the camera so his girlfriend could see it well, turning it slowly, displaying every stain, every sticky gift.

And… send.

***

—Already? —Amparo said, surprised to see him come in—. That was fast.

She was back on the sofa, glasses halfway down her nose and the newspaper open.

—Because I’m in a hurry. And because I came motivated: I just spent time with my dad’s hot girlfriend. —He winked—. We almost made up.

—And that means…

—The score goes back to zero.

—That’s good —she smiled—. You can’t always start over in cases like yours. Now you have to wait for the right moment.

—Yeah, the thing is I’ve got another plan now.

Amparo closed the newspaper and slowly turned toward him, almost salivating. Aitor was already waiting for the reaction with a wolfish smile.

—Noelia’s mother —he blurted out.

—Your girlfriend’s mother? —she asked, dumbfounded.

He nodded, eyes lowered.

—Seriously, kid —she said, unable to believe it—, you never stop surprising me.

The compliment puffed out the young man’s chest.

—Her stepfather must be impotent, or something like that —he explained—. Anyway… —he moved closer and sat beside her— the thing is she’s going to freak out… he offered me his wife. —He straightened his back—. His wife! —The grin from ear to ear was pure bliss—. I’m going to fuck that bitch right in his face.

His neighbor’s expression froze, as if what she had just heard was not to her liking.

—You’re going to rub it in your father-in-law’s face? —Neutral tone.

—You can bet on it. Damn, just thinking about it gets me hard.

—That… isn’t right. —Wrinkled brow, serious look.

—What are you talking about? He’s a stupid gorilla. And besides, it was his idea: he’s looking for a man to satisfy his wife.

Amparo moved her jaw from side to side, thinking.

—And she agrees?

—No way. She doesn’t want to mess around with anyone, especially not her daughter’s boyfriend. Or maybe she’s frigid, hell if I know. But I don’t care, she’s definitely going to go for it. You just have to know how to pull the strings.

The old woman’s face still wore the same wary grimace. Her features had darkened and her lips formed a straight line of disapproval.

—Drop it. It isn’t worth getting yourself into that swamp.

The warning was serious, and the young man didn’t like either the tone or the pessimism. It wasn’t the reaction he had expected, and he answered in the same register.

—What are you talking about? You enjoy this as much as I do.

—Only when nobody gets hurt. And your plan leaves no one standing. —She pointed at him—. Look, kid, one thing is playing around without the cuckold finding out, and a very different thing is pissing on his pride and turning it into a public humiliation in front of the woman he loves.

—Wh-what? And you’re telling me that, you who cheated on your husband with your boss, the bastard?

—I found pleasure in silence and in my husband’s sweet ignorance, because he never suffered because of me. What you’re after is to wound, humiliate, feed on his shame and bring him down as much as you can.

—But it was his idea, damn it!

—Because he loves her so much he’s willing to give up his pride —she raised her voice—. He’s already lost his mind with grief and doesn’t know what he’s getting into. Stay away from that woman.

—Not a chance.

Amparo was boiling with rage. She was breathing hard, and in her eyes shone the anger of someone arguing with an idiot convinced he’s right.

—You’re going to ruin that man and turn her into a miserable woman. —She shook her head, saddened—. Not to mention your girlfriend. You’ll lose her, and she’ll never be able to look her mother in the face again.

—Leave Noelia alone. She doesn’t need to know ANYTHING.

—She’ll find out. She’s his mother, and things like that always end up coming to light. —She drew breath, trying to be more diplomatic—. You’re going to destroy a marriage and your own relationship. Back off, boy. This isn’t like what you had going with your stepmother. This woman isn’t going to give in.

—Back off? Me? I’m Aitor, AITOR, and there hasn’t been a single woman who’s gotten under my skin and resisted me yet.

—You’re going to screw it up, and this time there won’t be a second chance.

—Shut up, you old hag! You don’t know me.

—You’re wrong, boy. I know you better than you know yourself. And I’m telling you it won’t end well. Leave it.

—Why?

—Because I know what I’m talking about. Her stepfather will change his mind when the time comes to take the leap. Her mother will feel dirty for having agreed to betray her husband. And her daughter… —she paused to breathe— her daughter will stop speaking to both of them. —She stood up, looming over him—. But most of all, because you’re just a foolish kid who confuses manipulation with understanding, and fucking with mattering.

—And you’re a bitter, lonely old woman dying of envy because you can’t get what I have!

The woman was left with the words in her mouth, surprised by what he had said and, above all, by the tone. The conversation had completely spun out of control.

—Look at my girlfriend, my family, my buddies! All the women I’ve slept with —he was almost shouting—. Even my father-in-law, who’s an ogre, offers me his wife. He offers her to me! —He got to his feet, emphasizing the height difference—. And you… you… what do you have?

He started pacing around the room, breathing hard. Amparo watched him, fearing he might turn violent, but showing not the slightest sign of fear.

—Look at yourself: living off memories. That’s all you have left, miserable echoes of yourself. —He turned toward her and pointed a finger at her—. Yes, that’s your problem: you live in the past, in the time when you were somebody. I realized it the first time I walked into your room. There are no photos of friends, or parties, or trips. Only portraits of you, of what you were, of what you’ll never be again. —He was truly furious—. In the whole house there isn’t a single image of anyone who isn’t you when you were young. And what do you really have left? Nothing. A sad old woman chasing herself around the walls. No family, no friends.

—And you? Do you even have friends? —she spat—. No. Only buddies. —Her lip trembled—. “BUD-DIES.” That’s what the useful fools of a little brat with the ego of a strategist and the brain of a pawn are called. Bit players who only exist to drink in your company.

—Like the company your son keeps you? The one who avoids you and hasn’t spoken to his own mother in years. —He moved in until they were face to face—. What happened? Did you catch him climbing into another man’s bed while his husband cried in a corner?

Amparo’s eyes glistened. They would have cried if they hadn’t forgotten long ago how to do it.

They stood in silence, staring at each other, letting the seconds pass. The echo of what had been said was still ringing strongly. Perhaps both of them were starting to regret it, or perhaps they were only preparing the next assault.

—Get out of my house.

Aitor clenched his jaw until the muscles along both sides of his face stood out. He took a while to speak, letting the seconds fall before moving his lips.

—Fine. —He straightened and took two steps toward the door. Before disappearing, he turned back to her—. Do yourself a favor and call him. Tell him you want to see him laugh again like in that photo in your room that you miss so much and keep so close. —He was about to leave, but stopped again—. Or better yet: tell him you own your own body, that you can sleep with whoever the hell you want, and that if anyone doesn’t like it, they know where the door is.