The Mature Neighbor Who Signed My VHS Tapes in Her Kitchen

The first time I really saw Nora wasn’t in the condominium hallway or greeting people with that stern face of a perfect wife. It was from my bedroom window, with an old pair of binoculars propped against the frame and my arm still aching from a bicycle accident that had left me stuck at home for weeks.

From there I could see half the residential complex: the times people came and went, the identical gardens, the routine marriages, the lights going out at the same hour. It was such a boring routine that I ended up watching out of sheer prurience. And of all the houses, the one that drew me most was Nora’s.

Nora had the kind of body that couldn’t be hidden, not even by long skirts, thick sweaters, or low heels. Tall, blonde, big tits, a firm ass, a tight waist. She always seemed uncomfortable inside her own clothes, as if every modest garment were a punishment.

Her husband, Elías, was one of those dry men who spoke as if he were giving orders even when he was asking questions. Their son, Bruno, was a surly little brat who looked at me as if I’d been born to annoy him. They came and went on schedules that were almost religious. So did she. But there was something about the way she remained alone that didn’t fit the image of an obedient wife.

I saw her cross the patio in a hurry several afternoons, looking around before going inside. I saw her watering her roses many nights, as if making use of five minutes of fresh air. And one Saturday morning I saw her take off a white robe beside the pool in the backyard.

I stood motionless with the binoculars pressed to my face.

She was wearing a salmon-colored bikini far too small to conceal anything. Her tits stood out, round and high. The bottom barely covered her ass, and when she bent down to adjust it, spreading her legs and slipping her fingers between her buttocks to free the fabric, I felt my cock harden as if someone had grabbed it in their hand.

It wasn’t just her body. It was the calmness with which she did it. As if she knew perfectly well that someone might be watching her and didn’t mind. As if she even liked it.

That day I masturbated thinking about her twice. The first time with the image of her ass beside the pool. The second, already at night, imagining what lay beneath all those boring clothes, how a woman like that would moan once she stopped pretending to be decent.

A few days later I went downtown to buy some tapes for an old VHS player I’d found in the storage room. The shop seemed frozen in another century. Dust, faded posters, a gray-haired owner who barely looked up. While browsing through old movies, I found a section of local porn. I laughed at first. Then I stopped laughing.

I recognized her by her eyes.

Not by the ridiculous stage name on the cover. Not by the makeup. Not even by her hair, which was darker and longer back then. It was those light eyes, that jaw, the way she lifted her chin. It was Nora. Younger, but unmistakably Nora. On one cover she wore black latex and a brutally deep neckline. On another, a short skirt and the face of a perverted saint.

I bought both tapes along with three others to make it look casual. It didn’t help. I made the whole trip home with my erection straining against my pants, imagining my neighbor—the one with the perfect garden and carefully tended roses—spreading her legs in front of a camera.

That night I digitized the tapes and watched them all on my phone, lying on my back with headphones on. There was no doubt. It was her. In one scene she sucked a cock with animal-like devotion, slobbering all the way to the base, swallowing as if she loved it. In another she let herself be fucked against a wall, her skirt raised and her mouth open with pleasure. In another she came while they fingered her, then laughed afterward, as if the orgasm had left her drugged.

I jerked off watching her until I came all over my abdomen.

The next day I saw her go out to water the plants as if nothing had happened. Buttoned-up sweater, long skirt, tight bun. The contrast made it worse. I could no longer look at her as a neighbor. Now I saw her as a woman who had been filmed swallowing cum and spreading her legs hungrily. And she had no idea that I knew.

Or so I thought.

***

I went to her house on Saturday at noon with the two cases inside my backpack. I rang the bell, and when she opened the door, freshly made up, her hair pinned back and a little lipstick on, she froze when she saw me.

—Hi, neighbor.

—Hi... is something wrong?

She spoke softly, as if she didn’t want anyone on the street to hear her.

—I wanted to ask you a favor.

I saw fear pass across her face before she hid it. She ushered me in quickly. The living room smelled of cleaner and perfume. She closed the door and folded her arms.

—What favor?

I took the two tapes out of my backpack and placed them on the table.

The color drained from her face.

For two seconds she said nothing. She only stared at the covers as if they were ghosts emerging from a closet that had been locked for decades. Then she ran her fingertip over one of the cases, with a strange mixture of shame and nostalgia.

—Where did you find them?

—In a shop downtown.

—Right.

—I watched them last night.

That hit her. She swallowed. Her tits rose and fell beneath the sweater.

—You shouldn’t have.

—Maybe not. But I did.

—And what do you want?

I’d gone there intending to ask for an autograph, nothing more. That was my plan. To have something of hers, to see her nervous, to know myself the owner of a secret. But when I had her in front of me, flushed, tense, and breathing shallowly, I didn’t want just an autograph.

—I want you to sign them for me, I said.

She looked at me in surprise. Almost offended. Then, to my confusion, she let out a small, bitter laugh.

—I thought you were going to blackmail me.

—No.

—No?

—There’s no need.

We stood looking at each other. Something happened in that silence. Something thick. Then her husband’s voice sounded from upstairs, calling to ask her something or other about lunch. Nora started, snatched up the cases, and whispered:

—Leave. Now.

I left. But I wasn’t satisfied anymore. I came out worse.

That afternoon I accompanied her and her family to a ceremony for their son, because her husband had asked me for a favor with the car. I agreed only so I could stay close to her. During the ceremony, I ended up sitting beside her in the back row. At one point everyone stood up and she ended up in front of me, recording with her phone. Her ass was at exactly the height of my hand.

I touched it.

At first barely, over her skirt. Then I really squeezed. A full, firm, warm buttock. She trembled but didn’t move away. She kept recording while I secretly kneaded her ass, feeling her legs tense. I gave her a pinch before she sat down and watched her cheeks burn without daring to look at me.

From that moment on, I knew I was going back for her.

***

The night came cold and silent. From my window I saw her go out into the front garden with a watering can in her hand. She wore the same heels as that afternoon, a long skirt, and a thick sweater. She watered the roses, bending only slightly, tending them with a delicacy that gave me an absurd hard-on. That woman could be a saint with plants and a slut with a cock in her mouth. I had seen both sides.

I took the two tapes and went outside.

I approached her along the path. When she saw me with the cases in my hand, she stiffened.

—Don’t make a scene, I told her.

She looked toward the house, then toward the street.

—Go around. Come in through the kitchen. Wait for me there.

I didn’t argue. I crossed along the side to the backyard, passed beside the dark pool, and reached the kitchen door. She opened it a few seconds later and let me in without turning on all the lights.

—Did anyone see you?

—No.

—Good.

She went upstairs with a plate in her hand. I heard her sweet, false voice taking her husband a sandwich. She came back a little while later and switched off the kitchen’s main light. Only the gray light from outside entered through the window.

We were alone. With her husband upstairs.

That detail made my cock hard enough to hurt.

Nora leaned against the counter and pointed at the tapes.

—Give them to me. I’ll sign them and you’ll leave.

I didn’t move.

—Did you enjoy them? she asked suddenly, in a low voice.

The question surprised me more than anything else.

—Yes.

—Which scene?

I looked at her. She was looking at me differently too. No longer like a frightened neighbor. Like an aroused woman ashamed of being aroused.

—The one against the wall, I said. When they lift your skirt and fuck you from behind.

She closed her eyes for a second.

—I remember that one.

—So do I.

She moistened her lips. A trembling sigh escaped her.

—You shouldn’t be here.

—But I am.

—My husband is upstairs.

—I know.

That made her gasp. I noticed it in her chest. I noticed it in the way she pressed her thighs together.

I took two steps. She didn’t retreat. I slipped my hand around her waist and pulled her sweater upward. Nora let out a short moan of surprise and instinctively raised her arms. I took advantage and pulled it off her in one motion. Beneath it she wore an enormous, ugly beige bra, incapable of hiding the weight of those tits.

—No... slowly...

I silenced her by lowering the straps and undoing it from behind. Her tits fell free, round and firm, with large nipples that hardened almost instantly from the cold and her excitement. I took one in my whole hand. It felt deliciously heavy.

—Fuck...

I brought the other to my mouth. I sucked her nipple, bit it gently, licked it in circles. She covered her mouth with both hands so she wouldn’t moan loudly. Her whole body shuddered. Her hips moved on their own against the edge of the counter.

—You like it, I whispered without letting go of her tit.

She nodded desperately, unable to speak.

I sucked both of them. One first, then the other. I alternated bites and suction while kneading them with my hands. I felt the warm skin, the hardened nipple, her moans breaking behind the fingers she pressed against her mouth.

—How long... she murmured. Fuck...

I spun her around and pressed her against the wall beside the door. I raised her skirt to her waist. She wore beige panties, just as sad as the bra, but they were already wet in the middle. I pulled them down to her thighs in one tug and spread her legs with my knee.

She had a big, firm, beautiful ass. I gave one cheek a sharp slap.

Her moan went straight through my chest.

I slipped my hand between her legs. She was soaked. Not wet: soaked. My fingers slid easily between the lips of her pussy.

—So the respectable lady gets wet quickly.

—Shut up, she whispered hoarsely. Shut up and do it.

That finished breaking everything apart.

I lowered my pants and pulled out my cock. I brushed the tip against her entrance once, and she pushed her ass backward, anxiously seeking it.

—Put it in me. Now.

I penetrated her with one thrust.

Nora lost her breath. She opened her mouth, her forehead pressed against the wall, and let out a muffled moan so intense that she had to bite her forearm to keep from giving herself away. I felt her narrow, hot body swallowing me inch by inch until I was buried deep. I had to grit my teeth myself to keep from coming, she squeezed so well.

I started slowly. Just to savor her. I pulled almost all the way out and went back in, sinking into that wet cunt that welcomed me with a slick smack. Every time I drove all the way in, she shook her ass and her tits swung freely.

—Harder, she demanded at once. Don’t treat me like you’re going to break me.

I obeyed.

I grabbed her hips and started fucking her hard. The sound of the kitchen changed: breathing, the slap of pelvises, the wetness opening between her legs. Smack, smack, smack. She writhed, squeezing me with every thrust, pushing her ass back to take me deeper.

—Fuck, yes... like that... like that... don’t stop...

I slipped one hand beneath her skirt and squeezed one tit while the other held her waist. I fucked her against the wall furiously, enjoying the risk, the darkness, her husband upstairs. She was losing control more with every second.

—You remembered this, didn’t you? I said in her ear. Being taken like this.

—Yes... yes, fuck... I remembered...

—Did you miss it?

—So much.

After that confession, I showed her no mercy. I drove into her harder. Her buttocks bounced against my pubic bone. My cock slid out shining and went back in dripping. I felt her opening for me, loosening even more, moaning with less and less restraint.

Then her husband’s voice came from upstairs.

—Nora!

She went rigid, with me inside her.

—What? she answered shakily.

—What are you doing downstairs?

I pulled out just slightly without stopping the rubbing, and pinched her clitoris between two fingers. She nearly collapsed.

—Tidying the kitchen... I’m coming up...

—Don’t take long.

We heard silence. We waited. She turned her head slightly and looked at me with eyes completely different from those she’d had that afternoon. They burned.

—Don’t stop, she ordered.

I put two fingers in her mouth for her to bite and thrust into her again. This time harder. Faster. With no intention whatsoever of being gentle. Nora sucked my fingers while I fucked her, slobbering on them, her ass pushed back and her legs growing weaker by the second. The kitchen filled with her broken moans and the slap of our bodies.

I slipped my other hand between her legs and began rubbing her clitoris in time with my thrusts.

Her reaction was instant.

Her knees trembled. Her back arched. She tried to pull away from the excess pleasure, but I held her firmly by the waist.

—No, no, no... wait... not like that... I’m going to...

—You’re going to come.

—Yes... fuck... yes...

I kept going. Faster with my fingers. Deeper with my cock. She began convulsing before she came, as if the orgasm were dismantling her from the inside. Suddenly she released my fingers from her mouth and stifled a scream against her own arm.

She came completely.

I felt her pulse around my cock, squeezing me in waves. Her pussy soaked her thighs. Her legs buckled so badly that I had to hold her up. She panted as if she’d run a marathon, her hair disheveled, her face sticky with sweat.

I didn’t pull out. I loved feeling her freshly fucked, soft, open, still trembling.

I made her turn around. She ended up sitting on the floor, her skirt rolled up around her waist and her tits bare. I grabbed her jaw.

—Open it.

She opened her mouth without arguing.

I pushed my cock all the way down her throat.

Her eyes crossed immediately. She coughed once, her lips filled with saliva, and then she began sucking as if she remembered perfectly how to do it. And she did remember. Fuck, did she remember.

She sucked me hungrily, swallowing half my shaft, using her tongue underneath, closing her wet lips around the tip and going down again until her nose brushed my pubic bone. Every time I pulled out, a string of spit hung between us.

—You suck so well, Nora.

She moaned around my cock and kept going. I grabbed her hair. I set the rhythm. She let me fuck her throat without a single protest; on the contrary, she adjusted herself, breathed through her nose, and sought me when I pulled away.

We heard footsteps upstairs. A door. The toilet. Her husband had gone to the bathroom.

I almost laughed.

She didn’t even notice. She was focused on sucking. Her eyes were watery, her face red, her chin shining with spit. I slid in and out of her mouth with a wet, obscene sound that brought me to the edge in a matter of seconds.

—Take it out and look at me.

She did. She was left panting, her tongue barely protruding.

I grabbed her half-undone bun and jerked off in front of her face a couple of times.

—I’m going to shoot it all over you.

She smiled.

Not a shy smile. A vicious smile.

—Do it.

I came all over her face.

The first jet struck her cheek and eye. The second hit her lips. Then I splattered her nose, forehead, and chin. I kept going until I was empty, grunting as I watched her close her eyes and take my load without turning away, almost proudly.

When I finished, she ran two fingers through the cum running toward her mouth and sucked them slowly.

—You’re still just as filthy as you were in the tapes, I told her, still breathing hard.

—No, she replied, looking at me from the floor. Worse.

***

We remained silent for a few seconds. I was leaning against the counter, my cock still sensitive. She sat on the floor, fucked out, disheveled, with semen on her face and her skirt raised. I could have stood there watching her for an hour.

But she was the first to return to reality.

She struggled to her feet, straightened her clothes as best she could, and picked up the VHS cases. I handed her a pen. She smiled again, still aroused, and signed them with the tapes resting on the counter. Her hand trembled slightly.

—So you can’t say I didn’t keep my word, she murmured.

She signed one and then the other. Then she handed them back to me.

I read the first dedication and laughed under my breath. I couldn’t help looking at the second one brazenly. She blushed but didn’t look away.

—Now leave.

—Is that all?

—For today, yes.

I moved closer and gave her a brief, dirty kiss that tasted of saliva and my own cum. She returned it for barely a second before pulling away.

—If you come in like that again, I’ll kill you.

—But I can come back.

She hesitated. I heard her swallow.

—If you come back, do it when I’m alone.

—And when are you alone?

—Don’t be an idiot.

I smiled. I grabbed the tapes and left the way I’d come in, crossing the patio beside the pool. Before reaching the side passage, I looked back one more time. She was still in the kitchen, motionless, one hand resting on the counter and the other on her chest, as if trying to control her breathing.

I couldn’t control mine either.

I went into my house still smelling my fingers. I went upstairs and opened the cases. On one she had written: “For my admirer, who knows how to use his hands.” On the other: “For the neighbor who fucked me the way he should have.”

I got hard again instantly.

I lay down on the bed with the two tapes beside me, thinking about her body against the wall, the way she’d asked me to go harder, the cum running down her face. Downstairs I could hear footsteps and dishes. Normal life continued in the condominium.

But now I knew something none of the other neighbors knew.

The exemplary wife in the house across the way was still alive beneath the long skirt, the thick sweater, and the carefully tended roses. And now I knew exactly how she moaned when a cock was shoved all the way inside her.

And the best part was that she knew, too, that I had no intention of stopping there.