I Discovered My Mature Neighbor’s Nighttime Secret

I was still studying humanities at university and living with my parents in a comfortable house on the outskirts of Santa Lucía, a quiet residential area with distant views of the sea. I had just turned twenty-two and lived such a monotonous life that I don’t even remember what I had for dinner that weeknight.

What I do remember is procrastinating in front of the computer after dinner, watching some porn before going to bed early. An ordinary night, just like so many others. Until a noise at three in the morning yanked me out of bed.

It was coming from my neighbors’ backyard. I thought maybe the raccoon that sometimes rummaged through the trash had come back. I strained my ears and heard nothing else, so I went to the window out of curiosity. If someone was trying to break in, I’d have to call the police.

But there was no thief. What I saw was an exuberant female figure, masked, working on the back door of the house next door. Luckily, when I took out the trash I had forgotten to turn off the patio lamp, and its light let me see every detail of what was happening on the other side of the fence.

I think she noticed my presence, some sixth sense maybe, because she lifted her head and looked straight at my window. I had just enough time to hide, but in that split second when the patio light hit her face I had no doubt at all. The woman trying to get into my neighbors’ house was none other than Centella, the city’s most seasoned crimefighter.

My first thought was that my neighbors must be dangerous criminals. I dismissed it right away. Centella wasn’t forcing the lock: she was rummaging around her belt as if looking for something. Her keys.

Stunned, I crouched down and pulled out my phone. I couldn’t risk her seeing me again, so instead of sticking my head out I stuck out the camera and started recording everything, until I heard the back door open and close. Then I stopped recording and played it back to understand what I had just seen.

It was barely five seconds, but my phone was an expensive model with an excellent camera, a splurge my father had paid for. Everything had been captured perfectly. I played it again, this time in slow motion, getting more blown away with every pass.

It was Centella, without a doubt. Her green-and-silver uniform, her mask, her cape in the same color scheme. But she wasn’t the triumphant, powerful Centella who appeared on television and social media. The one who had just gone into my neighbors’ house looked different.

Her uniform was torn and stained. As she opened the door, a rip in the fabric left one of her huge tits exposed without a hint of shame, the dark nipple stiff and pointing into the cold dawn air. At the back, another tear showed half her ass, a tanned, firm ass that moved with every step. A boot split open, one glove missing. She was holding the broken belt in her hand, in two halves, and maybe that was why she was having trouble finding the key. The cape was in tatters. She looked exhausted and battered, as if that night she had gone up against a nut that was too hard to crack.

I wondered what kind of mutant could have done that to her. As far as I knew, that woman had been active for almost fifteen years and almost everyone considered her invincible. No one knew the source of her powers, how she flew, or how she could lift a truck with her bare hands. Maybe the news would offer some clue the next day.

It was obvious Centella hadn’t come in to conduct a raid. She had come in to rest and lick her wounds. And only two people lived in that house: Gonzalo, an attractive businessman well known in the city, about forty-eight years old, and his voluptuous wife Carla, forty-two. The couple had moved in less than a year earlier, newly married.

The number of times I’d jerked off watching Carla sunbathe by her pool in one of her tiny bikinis. Carla, with her black hair, bronzed body, her curves, her huge tits, that round ass outlined beneath the wet fabric. The number of times I had envied Gonzalo for marrying a woman like that, and the number of times I had dreamed of sneaking into their house while she was showering and fucking her against the tiles.

Gonzalo left for work very early and spent almost the whole day out. Carla, according to her, worked from home, so she stayed in. Though what I mostly saw was her sunbathing, strolling around, not doing anything especially productive. Now, knowing her secret, I understood better why she got up late and spent the day shut inside. That “remote work” could only be the painstaking research that went into Centella’s night raids.

Everything fit. The husband came home late and exhausted, went to bed early, and slept deeply. While he slept, Carla secretly put on the uniform and went out to fight crime, returning at dawn. She got up late and did her research while relaxing at home or by the pool. It didn’t seem possible to me that Gonzalo knew about his wife’s double life. I wondered how she managed to hide the bruises from that night.

And I had it all recorded. While I watched it for the fifth time, I couldn’t help slipping my hand inside my pajama pants, gripping my hard cock while I looked again at that torn uniform, that exposed tit, imagining her subdued and humiliated by some ugly, powerful mutant, legs spread while a huge cock shoved into her all the way, like in so many defeated superheroine videos that circulate online. I stroked myself slowly, the head already dripping, imagining her open mouth, her tongue out, a jet of cum landing on her silver mask.

I still couldn’t believe it: my neighbor was a superheroine. And not some mediocre one like Spark, or a pair of social-media sluts like the duo of Solar Warrior and Astral Star. No, my neighbor was the famous, mature, veteran Centella. And while I wanked myself senseless, an idea began to take shape in my head.

***

The next day I lied to my parents. When they left for work, I told them university classes had been canceled. It was a lie, of course, but I needed to stay home alone to do what I had spent all night planning, working up the nerve for.

Because after all, I wasn’t going to blackmail just any neighbor I’d caught cheating on her husband with the gardener. I was going to blackmail none other than the powerful and famous Centella.

As soon as my parents left, I checked that Gonzalo’s car wasn’t there either. Perfect. From what I knew of his schedule, he wouldn’t be back until late in the afternoon. Carla would be alone all day. So, with a knot in my throat and my cock already semi-hard inside my pants, I went out the front door and rang my neighbors’ bell.

Carla took a while to answer and I was very nervous. You have to understand: I was only a twenty-two-year-old kid, an average guy, mediocre in my studies and mediocre in life, and she was Centella. But I managed to gather enough nerve not to back down and stood there in front of the door.

“Adrián,” she said, peeking out. “What brings you here? Aren’t you going to university today?”

She was dazzling. She wore a pink robe, and I would have bet anything she had nothing on underneath. Her black hair fell in waves over her shoulders. I let my gaze drift to her tanned thighs and bare feet, and made out the outline of her nipples pushing against the thin fabric of the robe. There was no sign of the bruises from the night before, probably thanks to some regenerative ability that helped her hide the truth from her husband.

I tried to speak, to say something, but my throat locked up. I don’t know how long I stood there like an idiot.

“Do you want something? Are you okay?” she asked, noticing how agitated I looked.

If I opened my mouth I wouldn’t be able to say anything coherent, so instead of talking I pulled out my phone and shoved the video in her face. Those scant five seconds were enough to completely change her expression, and that gave back some of the nerve I was starting to lose.

“How…?” she stammered.

“I have copies,” I cut in, pretending to be calmer than I felt.

“Gonzalo doesn’t know anything about this,” she said.

Bingo, I told myself. That gave me power. She shouldn’t have said that; she should have stayed calm and pretended her husband knew. She was making this too easy for me, and euphoria began to swell inside me.

“I know,” I said firmly. “And he doesn’t need to find out.”

Carla let out a relieved sigh.

“What do you want? You were spying on me last night, weren’t you?”

She wasn’t stupid. After all, she was still Centella. Even if the shock of the video had overwhelmed her, she wasn’t naive enough to believe I had shown up at her door without wanting something in return.

“I have money,” she said when I stayed silent. “I know your parents don’t give you much to go out with your friends. If you want, I could give you…”

“I don’t want money,” I cut her off.

I saw her expression change. She wasn’t stupid, maybe just a little naive in thinking a guy my age would value money more than “the other thing.” But not so naive that she couldn’t guess what I was going to ask for. She lowered her gaze for a moment, and I noticed it stop at the bulge already pushing against my jeans.

“Come in,” she said. “Out here we’re drawing too much attention.”

***

The inside was exactly as I had imagined. The house was quite a bit bigger than mine: a striking living-dining room, a modern kitchen, a spacious entryway with a staircase leading upstairs.

“You do realize that if you spread that, I’ll deny everything, right? It’s not clear that it’s me. You can’t even tell it’s my patio. I could just deny it and…”

“Yes, you could,” I cut in. “But there would always be someone willing to check whether it’s true. And in your long career you must have made a few enemies who’d like to see you dead, am I wrong?”

Carla shook her head.

“Besides, you might fool people, but Gonzalo would recognize the patio of his own house. You’d have to explain it to him. And he’d definitely recognize that ass and those tits. For someone who knows so much about numbers, putting two and two together wouldn’t be that hard.”

“What do you want?” she insisted. “If you don’t ask too much, I’m willing to indulge you as long as you delete that damn video and we forget the whole thing.”

Perfect, I thought. That was exactly the attitude I was after.

“I don’t want to hurt you or ruin your life,” I told her to calm her down. “I just want to have a little fun. You know, who in my place wouldn’t take advantage of the situation?”

She nodded, taking it in. She was in a bind and she knew it. She couldn’t beat me up, because I hadn’t done anything to her physically; if she hit me, I could report her and she’d end up in prison. Violence wasn’t an option for her.

“To start with, take off the robe. Let it drop to the floor,” I told her.

Shocked, I watched Carla slide the robe off her shoulders until it fell at her feet. Just as I had guessed, she had nothing underneath and showed herself to me exactly as she’d come into the world. Big round tits, dark hard nipples like stones, a flat stomach without a trace of fat, an athletic, well-kept body. The curve of her hips, her legs, her bronzed skin, and her pussy covered by a trimmed patch of black hair that left the plump lips visible beneath. My mouth watered. My cock gave a jolt inside my pants.

“Happy?” she said, as if that would be enough.

“Put on the uniform,” I replied. “I want to see you as Centella. I admire you a lot and I’ve never had the chance to get a close look at you.”

“No,” she snapped back.

“You’d rather let me see you naked, as you came into the world, than in a uniform you put on every night and that cops and thugs see?” I exclaimed.

I seemed to hit the nail on the head, because she muttered under her breath, but in the end she said, “Wait here,” while pressing a button that lowered the living room blinds and sent her up the stairs.

I imagined she had some hiding place where she kept the uniform and gear. The house was big; it shouldn’t be hard to hide a false-bottom closet or a hidden room. I was tempted to go after her, but I didn’t want to tempt fate. I preferred for her to see that I respected her rules while she followed mine.

I was still pacing restlessly around the living room, my cock already tugging against my pants, when I heard the unmistakable sound of boots coming down the stairs. I turned, and there she was, Centella in all her splendor.

Green knee-high boots, silver gloves reaching her elbows, a swimsuit-like uniform that left her shoulders and thighs bare, green with silver stars stamped across the chest. The silver mask with green stars, the cape down to her waist in the same pattern. She looked stunning. Beneath the thin fabric of the uniform, her stiff nipples and the exact shape of her furry pussy were visible.

The only things missing from the outfit were the tactical belt and a pendant she usually wore around her neck, some kind of figurine, maybe the source of her power. In press photos she always showed it off, but now she didn’t have it on. Even better for me, I thought. Without it, she was just a woman in front of me. A strong, athletic woman, able to beat me senseless in the blink of an eye, but a woman all the same, not some goddess with superpowers. A hot, mature female I was going to fuck until I was spent.

As if reading my mind, Centella turned around, making the cape sway. From behind, the uniform covered her whole ass like a proper swimsuit, outlining the slit and the two tight half-moons. Too bad, I thought; I would have liked her to be bolder and show off her ass shamelessly. But I couldn’t complain about what was in front of me.

“Happy?” she said when I didn’t speak.

“Turn around and face away,” I ordered, and she obeyed, which only reminded me how hard I was. My cock was throbbing inside my pants, and a fat drop of pre-cum was staining my underwear.

I went behind her and, with complete shamelessness, put my hands on those irresistible glutes. That ass of a forty-two-year-old woman who put so much effort into keeping herself in shape, far firmer and sexier than that of many girls my age. Hard to the touch, round, not a hint of cellulite. She let me grope her without complaint, not even when I shoved the uniform fabric between her cheeks, leaving it exposed as if it were a thong. I dug my fingers into the flesh, squeezed hard, pried her cheeks apart to see the pink little asshole peeking between them. A rough moan escaped me at the sight.

“That looks much better on you,” I told her while unfastening her cape. “You should think about trimming the back of the uniform. The public would appreciate it.”

Without protesting, she let me take the cape off her.

“What are you doing?” she said when I grabbed her wrists and brought them together behind her back.

“What do you think?” I replied, holding her hands with one hand and sliding the cape between them with the other. “Do I really need to explain it?”

Centella let out a growl of protest while I tied her hands with her own cape. It was probably a clumsy knot she could undo with no effort, but leaving her tied up made me burn with euphoria inside. I felt powerful, dominant, superior to her. I stepped back a couple of paces to savor the image.

Centella, the powerful superheroine, with the uniform wedged in her ass crack, her cheeks bare and her hands tied behind her back with her own cape. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I was so euphoric it didn’t even occur to me to take a picture.

“On your knees,” I told her.

I nearly lost my mind when Carla, hands tied, crouched down onto her knees and turned to look at me. Or rather, to look at the hard bulge deforming my pants. She knew perfectly well what I was about to ask for and seemed to accept it. She must have thought a five-minute blowjob was a reasonable price to pay for getting the problem off her back.

She knew that even if she took my phone and deleted the video, even if she smashed my computer, I could always shout her secret from the rooftops. Very few people would believe me, but the risk would not be zero. And if her husband didn’t know, she’d have to explain herself and wouldn’t be able to sneak out of bed anymore. She couldn’t send me to the hospital or threaten to kill me: she was a crimefighter, one of the good guys. So she didn’t have many options. And she probably thought that, at twenty-two, I would be so lucky to get that blowjob that I’d be eternally grateful and leave her alone.

Naive woman. How wrong she was.

I yanked my pants and underwear down in one go and my cock sprang free, harder than ever, stiff, with the glans swollen and purple, glistening with pre-cum. She let out a gasp when she saw it so close to her face. Gonzalo’s was probably thicker and longer than mine, I thought. But the one that was going to fuck her now was mine, her twenty-two-year-old neighbor’s. The one from a brat she was going to have to suck as if he were her master.

“Stick out that tongue,” I ordered, surprising myself with how firm my voice sounded.

And Centella, the veteran crimefighter, stuck out her obedient pink tongue. I dragged the glans over it, leaving a shiny trail of pre-cum on the tip of her tongue. She shuddered. I rubbed my cock along her cheek, along her silver mask, smearing my spit over the green stars on the mask.

Seeing her so willing, with her mouth slightly open inviting me to finish already, I couldn’t resist. I slapped her face a couple of times with my hard cock, one sharp blow on each cheek, and she closed her eyes, enduring the humiliation without flinching. The stiff cock left a red mark when it struck. I wondered if some criminal had ever humiliated her like that, and I remembered the night before, her uniform in tatters, half-naked, wondering if whoever had left her like that had also shoved it in her mouth, cum sprayed on her face and left her abandoned in some alley, semen dripping over her mask.

With that thought, I slid the glans between her lips. I nearly came just from the contact of her warm, wet mouth closing around the tip. I couldn’t believe it: my mature, smoking-hot neighbor was sucking me off. The number of times I had fantasized about this while watching her sunbathe in that tiny bikini. And not only that: I had the city’s most seasoned superheroine kneeling before me, hands tied behind her back, blowing me like some common whore.

She knew what she was doing. Her tongue coiled around the glans, circling the crown while she sucked with hollowed cheeks. She drew me out slowly to the tip, left a wet kiss on the head, then swallowed me again, this time a little deeper, until the tip touched the roof of her mouth. The things she must do to that idiot Gonzalo in bed. No one had ever sucked me off like this, and I was blown away by how good every millimeter of my cock felt wrapped in her warm mouth.

I grabbed her black hair with both hands, threading my fingers through the strands, and pressed her face against my groin without the slightest gentleness. She tried to adjust, but I thrust forward all at once, spearing her face onto me until she took me whole and I felt her take me deep into the back of her throat. Carla gagged, tears filled her eyes, and a line of spit started running down her chin. But I didn’t pull away. On the contrary: I started fucking her mouth at a steady rhythm, drawing myself out to the glans and shoving back in to the balls, hearing the wet, filthy sound her throat made every time I penetrated it.

“Look at the veteran bitch Centella sucking me off like a slut,” I said, unable to stop myself. “If the criminals who trembled at the sound of your name knew you’re here on your knees, tied up, swallowing the cock of a twenty-two-year-old brat.”

She moaned around my cock, and that moan vibrated all around it. I pushed harder, choking her against me, feeling her throat slowly open, giving in. I let go of one hand from her hair and grabbed her chin, forcing her face up to look at me while I kept fucking her mouth. The silver mask, her hair disheveled between my fingers, her mouth stretched around the shaft of my cock, her eyes red from holding it in, saliva dripping from her chin and onto the silver stars on the uniform’s chest. It was the most obscene image I had ever seen in my life.

I wondered if she knew that from my bedroom window you could see the inside of her living room. I liked to think she did, that she walked around on purpose to turn me on. That made me even hotter. I shoved her head to the hilt once more, feeling the tip buried in her throat, and held her there for several seconds while she choked, tears streaming and makeup running beneath the mask.

When I let her go, she took a gulp of air and looked at me with shining eyes. A thick line of spit still connected her mouth to the tip of my cock.

“Keep going,” I snapped. “And now suck my balls too.”

Without protesting, Carla leaned forward and stuck out her tongue. She began licking my balls languidly, moving up the shaft from the base, sucking each testicle with a soft suction that made my legs tremble. I held her by the hair while she worked me with her mouth, alternating between sucking my balls and returning to my cock, taking air when she could, choking when I pushed too hard.

I felt like I was going to explode. I grabbed her hair again with both hands and fucked her mouth at a brutal pace, hammering into her mercilessly, hearing the pornographic slapping of her throat and her muffled retching.

“I’m gonna cum, bitch,” I growled. “I’m gonna cum in your superheroine mouth.”

And that’s exactly what I did. As I reached the most intense orgasm of my life, I emptied my entire load into that mature, bronzed woman’s mouth, hot, thick spurts hitting her tongue and throat. I felt her mouth fill up, felt it start to overflow, saw a thick rope of semen dribble from the corner of her mouth and run down her chin to the silver stars on the uniform.

Carla didn’t complain. She pulled her face away, and with her hands still tied behind her back, without the slightest motion to free herself, spat out a thick white mouthful onto the floor. Bad luck: most of it landed on her own uniform, staining those silver stars that inspired so much respect in criminals, and another jet slid down between her tits, slipping under the fabric and soaking it from the inside. With those huge tits in the way, she couldn’t aim at the floor properly. Her mouth was left shiny, smeared, with a white thread still hanging from her lower lip and stretching to her chin.

“Swallow what’s left,” I ordered.

She looked at me with hatred, but obeyed. I watched the white bulge in her mouth disappear with a filthy swallow and her throat bob. She opened her mouth to show me it was empty. I licked my lips.

***

Maybe she thought that would satisfy me, but nothing could have been further from the truth. I was young and had full vigor. Seeing her with my semen staining the uniform, her mouth still shining, her hands still tied, and that ass bare made me hard again almost immediately. I had her in my hands and I wasn’t going to waste the opportunity.

I grabbed her by the hair and forced her to her feet. I was tempted to drag her upstairs and fuck her in her own bed, the bed where she did it with Gonzalo. It would have been a hard humiliation for her husband, the smug bastard. But I wouldn’t last that long; I was about to blow again. I needed it now.

So instead of taking her to the stairs, I slammed her against the sofa, a large black leather sofa that probably cost more than my mother’s car. Centella protested when she ended up facedown, her tits crushed against the leather, but she made no move to resist. She simply let me do it.

The veteran superheroine looked pretty pathetic, with her face against the sofa, her legs spread, her ass up, and her hands tied with her own cape. I nearly came just from that image. I yanked her legs apart, grabbing each thigh and forcing them open as wide as they’d go until the fabric of the uniform pulled tight at her groin, outlining every fold of her pussy.

Hungrily, I pushed the uniform aside and exposed her pussy. The plump lips, swollen and pink, framed by the trimmed black hair, and a shining slit of moisture dripping from her. I ran two fingers over it and was surprised to find it soaked. I pulled them out slick and gleaming and held them in front of her face so she could see.

“Look how wet you are, Centella,” I told her, rubbing my fingers over her lips. “Suck them, slut.”

She opened her mouth and licked her own juices from my fingers, obedient. That woman was getting turned on by being assaulted in her own house. I couldn’t believe it: she was liking this. I wondered if being a superheroine was some kind of fetish for her, if she fantasized about being dominated by some villain while Gonzalo fucked her, if at night, after her raids, she came home wet and needy.

I went back to the rear and shoved two fingers into her pussy all at once, knuckles deep. She let out a muffled moan against the sofa leather. I finger-fucked her for a while, feeling her clench around me, hearing the wet, filthy sound her horny cunt made every time I pulled my fingers out and pushed them back in. I found her clit with my thumb and rubbed it in circles while I kept plunging my fingers all the way in. Carla started moving her hips, pushing back, asking for more.

“Look at you, the great Centella begging for more,” I said. “The great crimefighter shaking her ass like a bitch.”

“Shut up and fuck me already, asshole,” she muttered into the sofa, surprising me.

I couldn’t have said what excited her more: being blackmailed and assaulted by her young perverted neighbor, or being dominated while dressed as Centella. But I wasn’t there to think too much; my throbbing cock was thinking for me. I pulled my fingers out, grabbed her hips, and, pushing the uniform aside, drove into her balls-deep in one thrust.

And did it slide in. Carla’s cunt was so wet and hot that my cock sank to the hilt with no resistance whatsoever, and I felt the inner walls close around me, milking me. At forty-two, Carla had plenty of experience, and her body accepted me with no trouble. I heard her moan as I hammered into her, fucking her the way I had seen in those videos, brutal, merciless, slamming her against the sofa with every thrust.

The sound of us fucking was pornographic: the wet slapping of her soaked pussy, the dull thud of my hips hitting her ass, her broken moans against the leather, my rough grunts above her. I grabbed her hair like it was the reins of a horse, forcing her head up, while my other hand slid along her waist and roughly groped that ass that got me so hard. Squeezing, grabbing, spanking, leaving the red imprint of my hand on her bronzed skin, scratching it and leaving red furrows. And all she did was moan with pleasure, pushing back to take it deeper. She was enjoying it as much as I was, and the more turned on she seemed, the more I wanted to treat her rougher.

“Take it, take it, bitch,” I growled, pounding harder and harder. “Take your neighbor’s cock, you fucking superheroine.”

“Yes, yes, keep going, don’t stop, give it all to me,” she panted, with no dignity left, just a mature woman desperate to be fucked.

I let go of her hair and slid my hand up her shoulders, slipping it under the uniform until I found her tits. I squeezed them like ripe fruit, pinched her hard nipples until she let out a howl, feeling their warm softness fill my hand. I tore a little more of the uniform fabric to get her whole tit out, and I grabbed it brutally, sinking my fingers into the firm flesh while I kept fucking her from behind. And she kept moaning nonstop. Wasn’t her husband giving her what she needed? I began to suspect her sex life with Gonzalo was downright boring.

I couldn’t imagine a monotonous life with a woman like that. If I were Gonzalo, I’d have slammed her the second I walked through the door: in the entryway, in the kitchen, on the sofa like now, on the stairs, in the bath. In every corner of that huge house, making her moans echo off the walls like they did now.

Maybe Gonzalo, with all the demands of work, came home so exhausted he only had enough strength for a quick, bland fuck. That wasn’t the image I had of him, but seeing his wife moan while I took her by force, I couldn’t help imagining how starved Carla was for hard sex.

I yanked her out and flipped her onto her back on the sofa. With her hands still tied underneath her, arching her back, her huge tits bounced with every movement. I spread her legs as wide as I could, put them over my shoulders, and drove my cock back into her pussy, this time looking at her face, watching Centella, the great crimefighter in her silver mask, make a slutty heat-struck face while I split her in two. I fucked her pussy while looking her in the eyes, feeling how she clenched each time I buried myself to the hilt.

“Look at me, bitch,” I said, giving her a light slap on the cheek. “Look at me while I fuck you. Don’t forget who’s splitting your cunt open.”

She opened her eyes, green under the silver mask, and looked at me with a mixture of hatred and pleasure that almost made me finish right there. I took advantage of the position to lower my hand and rub her clit with my thumb while I kept pounding her nonstop. Her cunt got even wetter, running down her thighs and staining the black leather sofa.

She confirmed it with the intense orgasm she hit while I was still inside her. Her whole body tensed, her back arched, her tits lifted, and she let out a long, sharp cry that echoed through the entire living room. Her pussy clenched around my cock in spasms, squeezing it, and I felt a hot stream soaking my groin. My sex life was almost nonexistent, aside from a couple of chaotic experiences where the girl hadn’t even finished, so being able to make a woman like Carla come was way beyond anything I could have imagined. I was the first one surprised to see her finish before me.

She screamed as if she wanted the whole neighborhood to hear her, and that was too much for me. I yanked out, dripping, and put her back on her knees on the sofa, facing away from me, ass in the air. I spread her cheeks with both hands and shoved my cock back into her soaked pussy, fucking her at a savage pace for a while longer, feeling my orgasm build in my balls.

I didn’t want to cum inside her, but I couldn’t help it: a powerful release, maybe even bigger than the first, ended up inside her. Each hot spurt shot to the hilt, feeling my cock throb against the walls of her cunt. I stayed buried inside, pressing her against me, emptying myself to the last drop. She didn’t protest, so I figured she must have been taking precautions for a long time. When I was completely drained, I pulled out in one jerk and slapped my cock against her ass, leaving a trail of spit and cum on her bronzed skin.

I spread her cheeks with both hands to see the white streak starting to leak from her open pussy, sliding between her red, swollen lips, and I ran the still-sensitive tip of my glans over her pink asshole, teasing her. She shuddered.

“Another day I’ll wreck your ass too,” I promised her, and I gave her a sharp slap on the left cheek that rang through the living room.

As I pulled my pants up I glanced sideways at Centella. The veteran superheroine was still in the same position I had left her: gleaming boots and her uniform in disarray, chest still stained with semen, face down on the sofa, legs splayed, ass up, fluids sliding down her thighs in two shining trails. A stain on the black leather that kept slowly spreading, a mix of my load and her own juices. She panted after the orgasm, hands still tied and making no move to free herself or shift into a more comfortable position. I had fucked her good.

I couldn’t stop thinking how unworthy that pose was for a superheroine like her. Didn’t she feel ashamed being like that, knowing I was looking at her, semen dripping down her inner thighs and her uniform torn and stained? This time I didn’t resist: when I buttoned up my pants, I took a couple of photos with my phone, framing her soaked ass, her open pussy dripping, and the sullied uniform. New material for the archive.

I had just lived through the greatest sexual experience of my life and I hadn’t even stripped her. There she still was, dressed in a uniform that now looked more like a stripper’s outfit than that of a respectable superheroine.

There were so many obscenities I still wanted to do to her, but I had no strength left. Two blowouts had left me exhausted. I looked at Carla, still lying in that humiliating pose, panting, semen slowly running down her thighs, and wondered what was going through her head.

She had probably gone along with everything to get rid of the problem. She knew I was a pervert, but not a sadist or a supervillain. I didn’t want to ruin her life, and she must have thought that a good blowjob and a good fuck were an acceptable price for my silence. She must have imagined that, with my youth and my inexperience, this would be like hitting the lottery for me, and that I’d be satisfied.

I had gone much farther than I ever imagined when I knocked on her door barely an hour earlier. I always thought that, at most, I’d get to see her naked and grope her a little. I had gotten far more than I expected, and she thought that settled the matter.

She didn’t even ask me to delete the video, maybe because she knew I’d never erase every copy. But she must have thought this bought my silence. After all, she was still Centella, and I shouldn’t tempt fate any further.

I walked up to her, still in that undignified position with the sofa stain spreading, and said goodbye with a kiss on the nape of her neck. She probably let out a relieved sigh when she heard me leave and close the door, thinking it was all over.

Was it ever over. What I had just lived through had been so intense that my head kept spinning with how I would dominate her again, how next time I would fuck her tight ass, how I would make her come with my cock in her mouth, how I would tie her to her own marital bed and fuck her for hours. She might be convinced it was finished. Naive woman. For me, it had only just begun.