The Mature Neighbor Who Opened the Door for Me That Morning

My name is Marcos, and the story I’m about to tell happened just after I turned twenty. Back then I was pretty obsessed with sex, the kind of guy who thought about it all the time, especially after trying it once and wanting more. My family and I had moved to a neighborhood on the outskirts of Valencia about a year earlier, a cluster of old, cheap apartment blocks where everyone knew one another and almost nothing remained secret.

I wasn’t exactly handsome. Average, really: neither very tall nor very strong. But I had a way with words, I was good with girls, and genetics had been generous to me in one particular part of my anatomy. I had a sizable bulge even in loose jeans, and in the changing room at the neighborhood gym I’d already earned a reputation as the kid with the biggest dick in the group. That reputation had spread through the neighborhood the way these things do, from window to window, and more than one neighbor had heard that the new kid in block eight was “well equipped.”

The buildings stood so close together that from my window I could see the dining room of the neighbors across from us perfectly. Six meters, no more. In the apartment next door lived a married couple who had come from a village in La Mancha a few months before we did. Her name was Pilar, and she was around forty. He, Bernardo, was considerably older, short and weathered, one of those men who seemed to carry the whole weight of the world on his back. He worked construction, left before dawn and came home at night, and spent his weekends at the bar on the corner playing cards.

Pilar was something else. They had no children, and she had a body that didn’t fit with the gray life she led beside that man. She was somewhat taller than me, dark-haired, with shiny black hair that fell to her waist when she wore it loose. Big dark eyes, full lips made for sucking cocks, a narrow waist and wide hips ending in a round ass that moved beneath her skirt with every step. Her tits, big and heavy, stood out hard against her clothes when she went down to buy bread without a bra. She was the kind of woman who stayed engraved in your mind, the kind you came thinking about every night.

From the moment they arrived, she and my mother became very good friends. Pilar came over for coffee almost every day, and she always found a way to tease me. She called me “Marquitos,” knowing perfectly well that it drove me crazy, and I didn’t dare answer back in front of my mother. Sometimes, under the pretext of a joke, she would pass too close, brush my arm with one of her tits, or whisper in my ear that I was “a treasure someone ought to discover someday.” On the nights she did that, I couldn’t sleep: I’d lock myself in my room, pull out my cock and jerk off two or three times in a row, imagining her naked in my bed, legs spread, begging me to fuck her. I’d finish with my belly full of semen and my teeth sunk into the pillow so I wouldn’t wake my parents.

***

Things changed one day during Holy Week. We were having breakfast when my mother asked me to stop by Pilar’s place after I finished. She had bought a new stereo and didn’t know how to get it working, and there was also a bedroom lamp that kept flickering.

I told her I couldn’t, that I’d arranged to play soccer with my friends. My mother gave me the look that allowed no argument and threatened to take away my holiday spending money. Grumbling, I grabbed the toolbox and crossed the landing.

I stopped being annoyed the moment Pilar opened the door. She was wearing an extremely thin nightgown with a short robe tied around her waist, freshly out of bed, disheveled and gorgeous. Her stiff, dark, large nipples showed through the fabric, and her bare legs were exposed almost to the hips. I stood there staring at her with my mouth open, taking her in from head to toe, and felt my cock beginning to swell inside my pants. She burst out laughing.

“What’s wrong, kid? Never seen a woman in house clothes before?”

“My mother,” I replied, finding my voice again. “But my mother doesn’t dress like that, and she isn’t as hot as you. I’ve never seen anyone more beautiful in my life.”

“Oh, stop flattering me. I’ve just got up; I must look awful.”

“If this is what looking awful means, I don’t even want to imagine you dressed up. If I were a few years older, your husband would have reason to worry.”

She let out a laugh, but she kept looking at me differently. Her eyes were shining, and a smile hovered uncertainly at the corner of her mouth. Her gaze dropped briefly to the bulge already visible in my jeans, then rose to meet my eyes again, without pretending she hadn’t seen it.

She let me into the dining room, where she had the stereo. The problem was stupidly simple, a matter of reading the manual, but the only thing that mattered to me then was staying there as long as possible.

“Listen, if the stereo’s complicated, leave it,” she said, leaning against the doorframe and folding her arms beneath her tits, pushing them upward. “I care more about the bedroom lamp.”

“If you call me Marquitos again, I’m leaving and you can find someone else.”

“My apologies, Mr. Marcos,” she said sarcastically.

“No apologies necessary. I’m not a kid anymore.”

“I’d already noticed that,” she replied, and this time her gaze drifted slowly down to my crotch and stayed there just long enough for me to notice. “Come on, let’s see the damn lamp.”

***

In the bedroom I quickly discovered that one of the wires connecting to the ceiling was loose. The power had to be cut at the landing, but she refused to go out in her nightgown in case a neighbor saw her, so I went instead. When I came back, I climbed onto a three-step ladder and lowered the lamp, which weighed a ton. I reconnected the wire, insulated it with tape and prepared to hang it up again.

That was when the real problem began. To hook it on, I had to stand on tiptoe, and the ladder wobbled as if it were made of rubber. Then she volunteered.

“You hold the ladder for me. I’m taller. I’ll hook it up.”

“Can you manage? It’s pretty heavy.”

“I can handle anything they throw at me,” she said, winking.

She climbed up with the lamp in her hand. I held the ladder from below, and when I looked up I nearly lost it. Her nightgown had ridden up to her waist, and the shameless woman was wearing nothing underneath. There it was, a handspan from my face: her shaved pussy, with thick, slightly shiny lips, and her round white ass opening every time she stretched her arms upward. I could see everything: her clitoris peeking between the folds, her swollen slit, even the wet sheen beginning to run down the inside of her thigh. My heart raced and my cock gave a hard jerk inside my pants that almost made me gasp. I looked away abruptly, red to the tips of my ears, but raised my eyes again at once, unable to stop staring at that open pussy above me while she carried on with what she was doing, stretching her arms toward the ceiling as if nothing were happening.

This can’t be happening to me, I thought, feeling my whole body tense and my cock thudding against my zipper.

When she climbed down, she didn’t need to look twice to realize the state she had left me in. The bulge in my pants was impossible to hide: my entire cock showed along the side, thick and hard, pointing toward my waist.

“Well, well,” she said, pointing at the obvious bulge in my pants, and licked her upper lip. “Looks like you saw something interesting up there.”

“You tell me,” I muttered, not knowing where to put myself.

“Is all that because of me? I never thought a woman who could be your mother would get a young boy so worked up. And is it really all yours, or have you got a sock stuffed in there?”

“You’re not my mother. And you’re not old at all. Plenty of twenty-year-old girls would kill to look like you. And I’m not wearing anything stuffed in there: it’s all mine.”

“You’re a direct one, aren’t you? Seems the reputation you have around the neighborhood is true.”

“What reputation?”

“That you’ve got a cock no woman could fit in her hand,” she finally said, laughing with her mouth open when she saw the look on my face. “The neighbors talk a lot, sweetheart. And sometimes I listen.”

She stood there looking at me with a mischievous smile. Then she turned toward the door and, as she did, rubbed her ass against my bulge for a second, as if by accident.

“Go get something from the fridge while I take a quick shower. That’s what I was going to do when you arrived. Then I’ll give you your tip. And don’t even think about looking through the keyhole; you’re a cheeky one.”

***

I wasn’t stupid, and I understood the message perfectly. As soon as I heard her go into the bathroom, I calmly approached the half-open door and, with every intention, spoke loudly.

“If you need me to soap your back, just say so.”

I waited. Just as I was turning away, thinking I’d been too clever for my own good, the door opened. Pilar had taken off her robe and was wearing only the nightgown, which, with the bathroom light behind her, made absolutely everything transparent: her dark, erect nipples pointing at me, the black shadow of her pussy, her navel, every curve. She grabbed my hand and pulled me inside.

“Did you mean that? Are you sure you want to come in?”

“If it weren’t for the possibility of your husband showing up and catching us, I wouldn’t think twice.”

“Bernardo won’t be home until noon,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “It seems to me that you’re the one backing out.”

She gave a low laugh, turned around and, without closing the door, pulled the nightgown over her head. She stood naked in front of me, her big, firm tits barely sagging, her dark nipples hard as rocks, her flat belly, her shaved pussy, and that huge, round ass I’d seen ten minutes earlier. She walked naked toward the shower at the back. The enclosure was glass, and I could see her whole body under the water, her hair plastered to her back, her hands soaping her tits. I didn’t think twice: within five seconds I had stripped and was inside with her, my cock pointing at her navel, so hard it hurt.

When she saw me, she brought a hand to her mouth and let out a gasp.

“Good God, sweetheart. Is that what you were hiding? I’ve never seen one like that in my life.”

She looked me in the eyes as she reached out and grabbed my cock at the base. Her fingers closed around it, but she still had a long way to go before making a fist. She began stroking me slowly, up and down, measuring it, pulling back the foreskin to expose the head, which was already wet and shiny. Her other hand moved down to my balls, weighing them and squeezing gently.

“Fuck, it’s thicker than my wrist,” she murmured, more to herself than to me. “How the hell are you going to fit this inside me?”

“By putting it in,” I said hoarsely.

She laughed and kissed me on the mouth, a slow, tongue-filled kiss, while she kept jerking me beneath the stream of hot water. I thrust my tongue deep into her mouth and grabbed one of her tits with my full hand. I squeezed it until she moaned, played with the nipple between my fingers and pinched it. She answered by gripping my cock harder, so hard she nearly made me jump.

She moved down my body, kissing my chest, my stomach, the line of hair descending from my navel, until she knelt beneath the water. For a moment she stared at my cock from below, it pointing at her face while the drops fell over it, and she smiled.

“Let’s see how this thing tastes,” she said, sticking out her tongue.

She began by slowly licking me from my balls to the head, one long, flat lick that made me clench my teeth. She repeated the journey three or four times, covering me in saliva, sucking my balls one at a time and taking them into her mouth. Then she grabbed me with both hands, lifted me and took me into her mouth in one motion. Her full lips stretched around the head, swallowed a third of my cock and stopped there, unable to take more. She closed her eyes, breathed deeply through her nose and began to suck.

At first she went slowly, one hand moving in rhythm with her mouth and the other holding my balls, caressing them. Her tongue circled the head every time she reached the top, and from time to time she pulled it all the way out to spit saliva before taking it back in, deeper each time. I had never felt anything like it and had to brace myself against the tiles so I wouldn’t fall. When I opened my eyes and looked at her, I saw her gazing up at me with my cock in her mouth and one hand between her own legs, touching herself. She was coming while she sucked me.

“Fuck, Pilar, you’re going to kill me,” I managed to say.

She answered by speeding up. She had no mercy now: her hand moved rapidly up and down, her mouth sucked hard with that filthy wet sound, and every so often she pulled me out completely to suck my balls again or lick my frenulum with the tip of her tongue. I grabbed her head with both hands, squeezed her wet hair between my fingers and began fucking her mouth slowly.

I didn’t last long. Within minutes I felt myself rising, my balls tightening against my body, and I knew there was no turning back.

“I’m coming, Pilar, I’m coming,” I told her quietly, both hands in her wet hair.

She sped up, pulled me out for a second to tell me, “Swallow all of this,” and took me back in as far as she could. When I came, it was as if the whole weight of that year of fantasies discharged at once. My first burst shot deep into her mouth, and she swallowed the next three or four one after another without releasing my cock, sucking every drop. When I began to come down, she pulled me out, looked up at me, and the last spurt splashed across her lips and chin, sending two thick drops of semen dangling there. She stuck out her tongue, ran a finger over her mouth and swallowed it all. Then she laughed, wiping her face with the back of her hand beneath the stream of water.

“How long had you been saving all that up, sweetheart?”

“Since you moved into the neighborhood,” I confessed without thinking. “Every night, thinking about you. Every night I jerked off thinking about your tits.”

Something changed in her face when she heard that. She turned off the tap, we got out of the shower and half-dried ourselves with the same towel, without stopping looking at each other. My cock, which had barely softened, was getting hard again.

“You boys at twenty,” she murmured, looking at it. “Come on, you’re not going to leave it unsatisfied.”

***

She led me by the hand to the bedroom and lay on her back on the bed, spreading her legs so I could position myself over her. I was in a hurry, carried away by the heat of being twenty, and she noticed.

“Easy, no rush,” she said, stroking my face. “Slowly. Good things are enjoyed slowly.”

She pushed me down by the shoulders, guiding me without saying anything. I understood immediately. I slid between her legs, lifted her hips with my hands and pressed my tongue to her pussy. She was soaked, so wet that the saliva from before and her juices mixed in my mouth. I spread her lips with my fingers and began eating her whole: I ran my tongue along her entire slit, from bottom to top, without hurry, savoring her. She let out a long moan and dug her heels into my back.

I focused on her clitoris, that swollen little button peeking out between the folds. I sucked it slowly at first, playing with the tip of my tongue, then caught it between my lips and began sucking it the way she had sucked my cock. I inserted two fingers, then three, searching inside with my fingertips for that spot, pressing upward while I continued sucking her clitoris. Pilar clutched the sheets, moaning without being able to hide it, her back arching off the mattress. I pushed my middle finger into her ass up to the knuckle, and her moan stopped abruptly.

“Yes, yes, like that, don’t stop,” she panted, covering her mouth with one hand. “I’m coming, sweetheart, I’m coming.”

She came with her mouth open and her legs closing around my head, squeezing my thighs against her ears. I felt the tremor run through her entire body, the spasms in her tongue, the way everything clenched around my fingers. I kept sucking her until she pushed me away, laughing, unable to take any more.

“Come here, come here,” she said, pulling me upward by the hair. “Fuck me now; I need you inside.”

I climbed up her body, sucking her tits along the way. I stopped at each nipple, nibbled them and sucked them like a child. She grabbed my cock, hard again and dripping, and guided it with her hand, rubbing the tip against her pussy and letting me feel how hot and wet she was before allowing me inside. I pushed slowly, very slowly, as she wanted, and felt her open around my cock, yielding little by little. The first inch. The second. She breathed deeply, holding onto my arms with her eyes closed.

“Fuck, it’s so thick, so thick,” she whispered. “Slowly, darling, slowly, you’re going to split me open.”

When I reached the bottom, I stayed still for a moment, braced on my elbows, my cock buried to the balls. I felt her squeezing me inside, pulsing around me. I kissed her on the mouth, a long kiss with tongue, as I began to move. At first, short strokes, coming halfway out and moving slowly so she could get used to me. She set the pace, whispering in my ear not to rush, to let her feel everything, that it had been years since anyone had fucked her like this.

Little by little, the rhythm got away from both of us. I grabbed one of her legs and lifted it onto my shoulder, and from there I began driving into her all the way, with long, slow thrusts. I could see her pussy opening around my cock, gleaming with her juices as I pulled out and went back in. She looked up at me, biting her lip, her tits bouncing with every thrust.

“Turn me over,” she panted. “I want it doggy-style.”

I pulled out, she got on all fours and stuck her ass out in front of my face. I looked at her swollen, red pussy, dilated, with her puckered asshole just above it. I grabbed her hips and thrust into her in one motion, all the way to the bottom. Pilar bit the pillow to keep from screaming and waking half the stairwell. I began fucking her hard, pounding her with my hips against her ass, watching all that flesh move with every thrust. I pushed a thumb into her ass while I fucked her, and she let out a muffled cry into the pillow.

“Harder, harder, yes, fuck, like that,” she moaned. “Break me, sweetheart, break me.”

I slapped one buttock, then another, then another, until the red imprint of my hand remained. I grabbed her hair and pulled it backward, arching her back so I could drive into her more deeply. Everything tightened around me, her pussy clenched like a fist around my cock, and I felt her come again, trembling all over, moaning words that could no longer be understood.

I laid her on her back again and spread her legs wide apart. She stretched her arms toward me, drew me toward her mouth and whispered:

“Come inside me, come inside me. I can take it today.”

I began fucking her deeply, faster and faster, hearing the wet sound of our bodies colliding. I sucked her tits, bit her neck and fucked her mouth with my tongue. When she could no longer hold back, a scream escaped her that I had to silence with a kiss, because it would have been heard from the street. I followed a couple of thrusts later: I felt everything rise from my balls, clenched my teeth and emptied the biggest orgasms of my life inside her. Jet after jet, five or six, without pulling out, while she held me with her legs crossed over my ass, keeping me from moving.

When I finally pulled out, a thread of semen mixed with her juices seeped from her pussy and ran down to the crack of her ass, soaking the sheet.

Later she confessed that it had been years since she had come like that, that she could barely remember the last time someone had treated her the way I had that morning. She lay stretched out on the bed, still breathing hard, legs spread, pussy swollen and hair tousled, wearing a loose smile that made me feel, for the first time in my life, that I had truly become a man.

We got back under the shower to wash away the sweat. I loved washing her, running my soapy hands over her tits and her ass, slipping my fingers between her legs to “clean her properly” while she laughed and bit my shoulder. She returned the favor by kneeling again and cleaning my cock with her mouth, sucking me until she had drawn out the last drop left inside me. She was the first woman’s body I had ever truly touched, without rushing, learning every inch, and she let me explore it with a patience I have never forgotten.

She was about to get me worked up again, my cock back in her mouth, when she happened to glance at the watch on her wrist. It was after one. Bernardo could appear at any moment. I dressed in a hurry, my heart still racing and my underwear stuck to me from how wet everything was down below, and before I left she grabbed me by the arm.

“If I find out you jerk off thinking about me again, I’ll kill you,” she said, half joking and half serious, gripping my cock through my pants. “That’s what you have me for, right here next door, whenever you need me. This piece of meat belongs to me now, understood?”

And did I ever take her at her word. During the following months, until life began pulling us apart, I crossed that landing more times than I could count, my cock already half-hard before I even touched the doorbell. My mother, who wasn’t stupid either, eventually suspected something, and one day she only told me to be very careful that Bernardo didn’t catch us.

But that one, the first morning, the one with the lamp and the shower and the bed left unmade in the half-light, was the one that truly changed everything. What came afterward, the second time, when we went considerably further than we had that day, when she tried taking me in her ass for the first time and we discovered she liked it more than taking me in front, is another story. And I promise it’s worth telling too.