My Mom’s Moans and the Gringo from the Apartment Next Door
All of this happened a couple of years ago, at the beginning of 2024, when my mom started seeing Connor, a gringo who lived right next to our small rental apartment. Within a few weeks he first became her boyfriend, then our roommate, and above all, the cause of all my mom’s moans at night. To put it in context, she and I had come to the United States at the end of the previous year, after crossing several countries, so you can probably already guess where we came from.
My dad abandoned us before I was born, so when we decided to migrate, the first place that came to mind was the United States. We had some family here, and besides, my mom spoke English, which gave her the chance to find work faster. And that’s exactly what happened. She’s the classic Latina milf: extremely long black hair, almost down to her waist, five foot six, an hourglass figure, a huge ass, and medium-sized tits. From the moment we set foot in the country, she drove the gringos crazy, and they offered her jobs everywhere, but she chose one as a waitress and another washing dishes so she could be home a few hours a day.
A few weeks after starting work, we moved from a relative’s apartment into our own, in a building where almost all the neighbors were white. That’s where we met Connor on day one. He was thirty-one, lived alone, and was just under six foot three. He was very built, a mix of the gym and his work as a carpenter, and although he wasn’t stunningly handsome, his blend of American and Italian gave him a particular appeal. From the moment he saw my mom, he was interested in her, and almost without wasting any time he started flirting with her until she agreed to go out with him.
At that time my mom was about to turn forty, so at first she was cautious and evasive whenever we ran into Connor on the stairs or in the hallway. But as the days went by, she loosened up, until seeing him became a topic of conversation. That’s how the weeks went by, and she started going out with him on Fridays or some Saturdays for dinner, then inviting him over, and even letting him take us to visit a nearby city. I can’t say Connor was stupid or rude, because at the time I didn’t speak any English and I never really got to talk to him, but with my mom he was attentive and gentlemanly, to the point of opening the car door for her so she could get in.
As the days went by, Connor’s visits became more and more frequent, until my mom told me he had asked her to be his girlfriend and she had said yes. The relationship was short, from March to June, and from boyfriend he almost became a husband, because they decided we’d live together to split the expenses. They didn’t ask me anything, but I didn’t think it was a bad idea; I even helped move his things in the day he moved.
***
From the very first night Connor slept in the apartment, I started hearing moans. At nineteen years old I knew perfectly well what they were and what they were doing, but even so it was a very abrupt shock. I had never heard a sound like that in my life, and especially not from my mom. I played dumb and tried to sleep as usual, but the noises kept going for quite a while. They weren’t words or phrases, just short little whimpers mixed with the bed hitting the wall and, now and then, a sharp smack of skin against skin.
From there our lives changed completely, and I think I experienced the biggest change, because I was the one who spent the most time at home. One of the first things was that, when I got back, several times I’d find Connor shirtless, still wearing his work pants, walking around the apartment. With his build and his muscles, seeing him like that was imposing, even if for him it was the most normal thing in the world. He even welcomed my mom shirtless, and they looked like two lovebirds making out. He didn’t have every muscle sharply defined, but his back was broad and solid, as were his arms and chest; his stomach, though flat, didn’t show much, but the line from his waist down to his groin was clearly defined.
Once I was already getting used to seeing him without a shirt, I started running into him coming out of his room to the kitchen and back again in boxer shorts. That felt strange to me, because even though we were both men, at that point we didn’t even have the kind of trust to talk when we were alone, but apparently there was enough trust for me to see him half-naked. After a few days I understood that he simply didn’t care: he didn’t care that the apartment had once been ours or that I was his girlfriend’s son, and he kept walking around like that for the entire time he stayed.
I always knew I was heterosexual, but I can’t deny that the first few times I saw him walk by half-naked, my eyes went straight to his crotch. In boxer briefs he seemed small, though months later I’d discover there was nothing small about him. Besides, Connor had big, muscular legs and a round, perky ass that almost looked feminine.
Most of the times I saw him like that were on days when he got home early from work and stayed with me, because my mom finished late. Everything changed when, from one day to the next — I don’t know whether at his request or on her own initiative — she stopped working her last hours. She started getting home two hours before Connor and welcomed him with freshly made food, tight hugs, and lots of kisses.
***
Honestly, it didn’t bother me that they kissed in front of me, but the kisses kept getting more intense. On some occasions I had to interrupt them, because otherwise it looked like they were about to throw themselves on the floor and fuck right there with me nearby. Since they were spending more time together, they got into the habit of hopping in the shower as soon as he got home from work. Some days the shower was long, others short, and there was no doubt they weren’t only washing up. Every time, it became routine to see them come out of the bathroom and head for the bedroom: my mom wrapped in a towel and Connor with another one tied around his waist.
One afternoon, after they’d been in the bathroom for a while, Connor came out almost running toward his room in nothing but boxer briefs, but unlike other times he was hard. The fabric outlined every detail of his cock pointing forward: it didn’t look huge, but it did look very thick, with the head completely outlined and even a wet spot in the cloth. When he went back into the bathroom with something in his hand — maybe a condom, I don’t know — I noticed a tiny pair of my mom’s panties hanging off the back of his boxers. Seeing it gave me a filthy thrill I can’t deny, and when he shut himself back in, I moved a little closer to where the sound of water and laughter could be heard clearly. It took me longer to walk over there than to hear what they were doing.
By then I no longer found it strange to hear a moan coming from the bathroom. During almost every night, the bed banging against the wall, my mom’s whimpers, and Connor’s gasps when he finished were part of a routine I was more than used to. For a lot of people it would have been traumatic or arousing to hear the same thing every day, but I took it as a kind of training for my future. I was amazed by that guy’s daily stamina, the way I could hear him fucking for a good while, and I started admiring him for it.
Is it his cock, the positions, or a mix of both?, I wondered every time. I always ended up thinking that when I had a woman, I had to make her moan with that same intensity so she would treat me the way my mom treated Connor.
***
With every month that passed, the relationship went through problems. He was getting paid less, he’d make jealous scenes for my mom, they’d argue, and at night they’d make up with intense sex, only to fight again the next day. They’d go days without speaking, it looked like they couldn’t stand each other. Once, after a big argument, Connor didn’t come home to sleep because he went to his parents’ place. My mom was furious, but by morning she’d calmed down: he showed up with a bouquet of roses. That day they went out for the first time in months, came back very late — maybe after stopping by a motel — and the reconciliation lasted until dawn. I heard the moans and the bed creaking, and it comforted me a little to know they weren’t angry anymore.
After that streak they started going out every two weeks, alone or with friends, and the relationship became calm, though hotter. Several times I caught Connor kissing my mom from behind while he groped her tits over her blouse, or with his hands under it, squeezing them while they laughed and whispered things to each other. When they noticed I was there, they’d pull away immediately, but not even all my deliberate interruptions could put a damper on their instincts.
The most surreal scene was one early morning when I walked into the bathroom thinking no one was there. As soon as I opened the door, Connor was standing there pissing, completely naked, holding his cock, which even flaccid still looked thick and fully circumcised. When he saw me, he tried to cover himself, washed his hands in a hurry, and left apologizing while covering up as best he could.
But the image I never forgot was another one. One morning, as I came out of my room, I passed by theirs and saw my mom lying face down, completely naked and asleep, and Connor standing there with his cock hard while looking at his phone. He was so focused on the screen that he didn’t even see me, but I did see what had intrigued me so much. It wasn’t huge — I’d say it was about the same size as mine — but it looked much thicker and more veiny, and with his athletic body it made a perfect combination. That day I finally met the cause of all the moans of the past year and understood, once and for all, that size doesn’t matter when you know how to use it well.
Some time later, for work reasons, Connor moved to another state. He wanted to take us with him, but my mom decided we should stay: our family was here, our home was here, and so was her job. The nights went back to being silent, and I admit that more than once, lying in my bed, I found myself missing that pounding against the wall that had marked the rhythm of the house for an entire year.