I Never Confessed to My Husband About the Neighbor

We rented a bungalow for fifteen days in a coastal town in Alicante: my husband Daniel, our three-year-old son Mateo, and me. It was a single-story house with a small lawned garden, just enough space that we didn’t have to stay cooped up indoors except to cook and sleep. Above all, we chose it for the boy, who needed room to run around and burn off all the energy a child that age carries through a long journey.

On the first night we had dinner outdoors to recover from the drive. That was when we met the neighbors in the adjoining bungalow. It was barely more than a greeting over the fence, but I was struck by how mismatched the couple looked. She was extraordinarily tall for a woman, thin as a reed, with very short hair dyed apple green that seemed to glow beneath the porch light. He was nearly six and a half feet tall and built like a rugby player. Both had very dark skin. Later we learned they had come from South Africa to spend the summer.

The next morning we heard a little girl babbling in their garden. She was their four-year-old daughter, and that was all it took. The two children immediately sought each other out through the wire fence separating the two plots, with the stubborn determination children have when they take a liking to one another. We parents ended up getting swept along by their closeness, as always happens.

“If you like, they can play here this afternoon,” she offered me in measured English. “We have an inflatable pool.”

“I appreciate it,” I replied. “Mateo won’t want to get out of the water.”

And he didn’t. We began spending the hours together, in one house or the other, while the children splashed around and left the adults in peace, chatting with a cold beer in hand. His name was Thabo. Hers was Naila.

***

The first time something shifted inside me was one silly afternoon, seemingly insignificant. I took Mateo to their garden, and Naila told me the girl was with her father out back. When I went outside, Thabo was lying facedown in a hammock, asleep, wearing nothing but a tiny swimsuit that barely covered anything. I put Mateo in the pool and, when I turned around, I couldn’t help looking. The way the fabric stretched against his body left my mouth dry. The bulge of his cock showed even with him lying facedown, trapped between his thigh and the wet fabric, thick and long to a degree that seemed obscene for a man at rest. I went back inside almost breathless and told Naila I’d come to collect the boy in an hour.

I shouldn’t have noticed. But by then it was too late.

From that day on, I started looking at him differently. It was enough to see him appear with his torso in the sun, his dark skin always gleaming, for my pulse to quicken and my cunt to grow wet inside my bikini bottoms. And the worst part was the way he looked at me: unhurried, undisguised, like someone who knew how to wait. His gaze lingered on my tits when I came out of the water with my swimsuit clinging to me, then dropped to my crotch with a boldness that made me squeeze my thighs together beneath the table.

We saw each other almost every day. We went down to the beach together, shared meals, and took turns watching the children. That constant contact was wrecking my nerves. More than once I had to lock myself in the bathroom for a couple of minutes, pull down my panties, and push two fingers deep inside myself while biting my lip to keep from moaning, just to calm the heat before going back out with an innocent expression. I came quickly and silently, thinking about his cock outlined beneath his swimsuit, then returned to the garden with my cheeks flushed, pretending I’d gone to cool off.

***

One evening, in the middle of the after-dinner drinks, a glass broke against the edge of the table and Naila cut her foot on a shard. It wasn’t serious, but she was bleeding enough to frighten us. We decided to go to the hospital so they could take a look at it. Daniel offered to drive them, since his Spanish was much better than either South African’s English and he could act as an intermediary with the staff.

In the end, we arranged it in the most logical way: Daniel would accompany Naila to the hospital, while Thabo and I stayed with the two children. At that hour, it was most likely just a staple and then back home.

We put the little ones to bed in the same room, together, and went back out into the garden. Two half-finished glasses of cava remained on the table.

“It would be a shame to let it get warm,” he said, offering me mine.

We sat on the double hammock, shoulder to shoulder, and started talking about silly things: the differences between living in Africa and Europe, the weather, the winters he couldn’t stand. His deep voice vibrated beside me, and I could feel the heat of his arm just a few inches from mine.

I couldn’t say how it happened. Suddenly his arm was around my shoulders, and the tips of his fingers were barely brushing the side of my breast through the fabric. I looked at him. He leaned in and kissed me slowly, with a tenderness that didn’t fit his size. And it was me, not him, who parted my lips and sought out his tongue.

He lifted me from the seat as if I weighed nothing and sat me astride him, facing him. We kissed again, deeper this time, our tongues tangled, and I began to feel the firm bulge of his cock pressing against my cunt, separated only by two thin layers of fabric. I moved my hips, slowly at first, seeking him, rubbing my clitoris against that brutal hardness, and he held me by the waist to follow my rhythm, thrusting upward so I could feel every inch.

“Fuck,” I whispered in his ear in Spanish, even though he couldn’t understand me. “You’re so fucking hard.”

He gave a hoarse laugh against my neck and bit my earlobe. When one of his hands slipped along the curve of my back, went beneath my dress, and grabbed my entire ass with a single palm, I lost my head completely.

I rose onto my knees on the hammock, my thighs spread on either side of his hips, and rubbed myself against his torso. The top of my dress fell away without my remembering taking it off, leaving my tits level with his mouth. He didn’t hesitate: he caught one nipple between his lips, sucked it hard, barely bit it, then moved to the other, leaving a trail of saliva down my cleavage. A cramp seized me between the legs when his mouth moved down to my chest and I felt his broad tongue licking the hollow between my breasts. At the same time, with his other hand, he loosened his swimsuit and pulled it down to mid-thigh.

I looked down and nearly choked. His cock sprang free, dark and swollen, its shiny glans already wet with fluid, so thick I doubted it would fit inside me. I gripped it with both hands, weighed it, then squeezed it to watch his face: he closed his eyes and threw his head back.

I moved slowly down his body, letting desire guide me more than reason, until I was kneeling on the grass between his legs. First I licked him from base to tip, very slowly, following the thick vein running along the underside. Then I took him entirely into my mouth—or at least as much as I could fit—and began sucking him hungrily, using both hands for what wouldn’t go in. He held my hair without forcing me, barely setting the rhythm, and I could hear his deep sighs escaping each time I swallowed him to the bottom and his glans struck the back of my throat.

“Get up,” he asked me in a broken voice. “Get on top of me now.”

I had never felt anything like it: that stretching, that sensation of being at the limit of what was possible. I climbed back on top of him, pushed my wet panties aside, and guided the tip of his cock to the entrance of my cunt. I lowered myself slowly, millimeter by millimeter, my mouth open in a silent moan. He spread me open inside in a way that hurt and at the same time made my whole body tremble. When I finally had him all the way inside me, I stayed still for a few seconds, sitting on him and feeling him pulse.

I began moving on him, up and down, lost in the urgency of having him. He held my hips and raised and lowered me as he pleased, impaling me on his cock, while I dug my nails into his shoulders to keep from screaming. The hammock creaked beneath us. I could feel my own juices running down my thighs and splashing over the base of his shaft each time I swallowed him to the hilt.

And then we heard a car engine braking in front of the house.

It could only be them.

We sprang apart. His cock slipped out of me with a wet sound, and for a moment I was left with my cunt open and pulsing in the air, suddenly empty. I rearranged my dress with clumsy fingers while he pulled up his swimsuit, trapping his hard cock awkwardly inside it, and by the time the car’s headlights swept across the garden, we were already sitting three feet apart, pretending to talk. It was Daniel and Naila, of course. A small staple had closed the cut; she only had to keep her foot dry for a couple of days.

We picked up the sleeping Mateo and carried him to our bungalow. On the way to the bedroom, Daniel came up behind me and reached for my breast. As hot as I was, with my cunt still dripping from another man, I thanked him silently: someone had to take care of the heat Thabo had lit and left unfinished. That night I fucked Daniel with a fury he couldn’t explain, biting his mouth and riding him until I came twice in a row, imagining the neighbor’s cock with every thrust.

***

I thought it would end there. That it had been a one-night slip and that shame would keep me in check for the rest of the vacation. I was wrong.

Two days later, Daniel had to go to the town bank because of a problem with his card. Naila stayed behind to watch the children in their garden, and Thabo offered to take me grocery shopping at the supermarket. As soon as the houses disappeared from view, instead of continuing straight ahead he turned onto a dirt track that ended at the top of a cliff, with the open sea spread out before us.

He took a blanket from the trunk and spread it over the dry grass. There were no words. He laid me down carefully, kissed my neck, tore my dress over my head, and left me in my panties beneath the sun. He moved down my body without hurry, sucking my tits one at a time, biting my nipples until they grew hard as stones, then continued downward, licking my belly, the insides of my thighs, everywhere except where I needed him. When he finally yanked my panties aside and buried his face between my legs, I arched my back sharply.

He licked my entire cunt, from top to bottom, broad and slow, then focused on my clitoris with quick flicks of his tongue that made my thighs tremble. He pushed two thick fingers inside me and curled them, searching for that spot at the front while he kept sucking above. I seized his shaved head with both hands and pressed him against me, rubbing my cunt over his mouth without the slightest shame, and came within minutes with a long moan, staring up at the clear midday sky, squeezing my legs around his ears.

When I finally let him go, his chin and half his face were soaked with me. He laughed, wiped himself with the back of his hand, and stood up to pull down his swimsuit. His cock sprang into the air again, hard, black, gleaming beneath the midday sun, and my mouth watered at the mere sight of it.

I knelt before him on the blanket and returned the favor without his asking. I gripped him at the base with one hand, cradled his heavy balls with the other, and swallowed his entire glans, drenching it in saliva. I sucked him slowly at first, lingering on the crown, running my tongue beneath the tip, then with greater hunger, moving my head back and forth as my hair fell across my face. He looked down at me, teeth clenched and neck veins standing out, and every so often he held my hair and pushed me a little deeper, until tears sprang to my eyes and I had to pull away, coughing. I spat on him, took him in my hand again, shook him against my lips, and swallowed him once more until he was hard as a rock and on the verge.

“Stand up,” he told me, pulling me to my feet by the arm.

He lifted me as though I weighed nothing, and I wrapped my legs around his hips while he held me against his chest. He penetrated me like that, suspended in the air, with one deep thrust that made me cry out into the wind. I dug my heels into his ass, and he began moving me, raising and lowering me with his strong hands on my hips, impaling me on his cock with all the power in his arms. Each downward stroke drove the breath from me. I kissed his mouth and neck at once, biting him, licking his sweat. I had never felt so light and so desired at the same time, so thoroughly fucked.

“Harder,” I begged in his ear. “Break me.”

And he obeyed. He pulled me out and pushed me in, out and in, and with every thrust I felt him reaching my deepest point. I came again before he finished, my face buried in his neck and my cunt squeezing his cock in spasms. He lasted a few more minutes like that, holding me in the air, then gently dropped me onto the blanket facedown, lifted my hips, and mounted me from behind on all fours at the cliff’s edge.

He grabbed my hair with one hand and my hip with the other and pounded into me without mercy. The sound of his hips striking my ass mingled with the noise of the waves breaking below. I felt his balls slap against my clitoris with every thrust, and that enormous cock opening me all the way to a depth Daniel had never reached. I screamed for him to come, to fill me, that I couldn’t take any more, and he let out a deep roar, buried himself to the root, and I felt the hot lashes of his orgasm shooting inside me, thick jets filling my cunt until they overflowed.

He stayed inside me for a few more seconds, still hard, giving me little thrusts to empty himself completely. When he finally pulled out, I felt his semen sliding between my thighs and dripping onto the blanket. He turned me onto my back again and kissed me slowly, his wet cock resting against my belly.

The thrill of doing it there, at the edge of the cliff, with the sea wind drying our skin, his cum escaping from my cunt and guilt buzzing faintly in the background, made everything more intense.

We collapsed onto the blanket, breathless, and lay there for a while, caressing each other in silence and recovering our breath beneath the sun. Then we packed up, did the shopping for real so the bags would justify the delay, and went home as if nothing had happened, my panties tucked into my purse because they were far too soaked to put back on.

***

I had never cheated on Daniel before, and I never did it again afterward. Not with Thabo or anyone else. The vacation ended, they returned to their country, we returned to ours, and we never heard from each other again.

I admit I haven’t regretted it even once. And not only because of what I experienced in those days, but because of the memory it left me: a vivid memory I return to more often than I would admit aloud, when I’m alone and need to disconnect from the world for a few minutes. I slip my hand inside my panties, close my eyes, and all I have to do is remember that dark cock entering me at the edge of the cliff to come in less than a minute.

There are confessions a woman never manages to make to the person who ought to hear them. This is mine, and I’m telling it here because it’s the only place where I can tell it in full, exactly as it happened, without my voice trembling.