The Mature Neighbor Who Waited for Me with the House Empty
I go back to those summers whenever I think about what I really like. I had just turned nineteen and returned to my parents’ coastal village as soon as the university closed its doors. I had some experience, not much, just enough to know that women my age didn’t interest me very much, and that the ones who kept me awake were different—calmer, more self-assured.
The first one had been introduced to me by Renata, a Brazilian woman who spent her summers at her sister’s house, two villages away. She was a few years older than me and had a way of looking at you that left no room for doubt. With her I learned how to really fuck: how to lick a pussy until a woman begged you, how to hold back your cum when she started squeezing your cock with her cunt, how to talk dirty into her ear while you pounded her against the wall. That lesson left its mark on me. Everything that came afterward only confirmed it.
My mother earned a little money by bagging garments for a sewing workshop in the village. She worked in the converted garage at home with two or three neighbors, and between stitches they told each other half their lives. One afternoon I overheard something that stayed with me.
“I can’t take it anymore, I swear,” Beatriz was saying, lowering her voice. “Andrés has been out at sea for five months. He comes home for twenty days, leaves again, and I’m climbing the walls.”
“Be patient, dear,” my mother replied. “He’s a good man.”
“Good and far away,” she answered, and they both laughed.
Beatriz lived right behind our orchard, in a two-story house they had built on a plot her mother had given her. She must have been around thirty-eight. Tall, with a narrow waist and pronounced hips, and a pair of large, firm tits that showed beneath any T-shirt and drove anyone crazy. Her husband was an offshore fisherman and spent more time at sea than on land. They had a young son who slept almost every night at his grandparents’ house.
That very night I prepared a hiding place at the back of the property from which I could see her kitchen and, at an angle, her bedroom. I spent a good while spying on her as she made dinner in a thin robe that revealed the straps of her bra and the weight of her tits every time she bent down to open the oven. My cock went hard without my even touching it. This can’t end well, I thought as I pulled it out and slowly jerked off, imagining her robe opening and her offering herself to me. And even so, I didn’t leave until I came all over the dirt.
***
One morning my mother dropped the sentence that changed everything.
“This afternoon you’re going to Beatriz’s house. They’re delivering her appliances, and she wants to move the furniture so she can paint. The boy can’t help her, so you’re going.”
“Okay, Mom,” I said, trying not to let anything show.
“At four. And behave yourself.”
I arrived on time. The door was ajar, so I went in. Beatriz came out to greet me wearing jeans and an old T-shirt, and even so I had trouble hiding my reaction. We began moving the furniture aside and covering it with plastic sheets. Every time she bent over, her shirt opened and I could see the tops of her tits and the edge of her white bra pressing against her nipple, and I lost track of what I was doing. I got hard and had to spend a long while keeping the furniture in front of me so the bulge wouldn’t show.
The heat was oppressive. When we finished, she pointed toward the downstairs bathroom.
“Take a shower, you’re covered in dust. I’ll heat up some dinner.”
I stepped under the water. The shower door was transparent and only half fogged over. A few minutes later, the door opened.
“Sorry, I can’t hold it,” she said, and simply sat down on the toilet on the other side of the glass.
I don’t know what came over me, but I turned off the tap and soaped myself slowly, knowing my silhouette showed against the shower door. My cock began to harden as I ran my hand over my crotch, and she didn’t look away. She didn’t pretend she wasn’t watching, either. I saw her legs part slightly beneath her skirt as she pissed, and how she took longer than necessary to stand up.
“You’re coming out a man,” she said softly, almost to herself, before rising. “I’ll bring you another towel.”
She left and came back immediately with the towel, and this time she spent an extra second looking me up and down. I was still wet, my hands behind my back and my half-erect cock hanging in front of me, uncovered, and I noticed her eyes drift toward the bulge and a sigh escape her. She said nothing. She left the towel on the sink and walked away. That night I had dinner with her, chatting as if nothing had happened, but we both knew something had broken.
***
The following afternoons repeated themselves. We painted one room, then another. I showed up around seven-thirty, we put on a coat of paint, and then sat down to dinner. Every day the trust between us grew. Every day she wore something a little tighter, a little thinner—a pair of shorts that outlined her ass or a shirt with no bra beneath it that revealed her hard nipples—and I pretended not to notice while my gaze kept wandering and my cock swelled inside my pants.
On the third night my parents had dinner out and wouldn’t be back until late. Beatriz knew it. When I arrived, she had changed her jeans for a fitted black dress, her hair was loose, and her lips were painted. She prepared a cheese board, asparagus, and scrambled mushrooms. We ate slowly, talking about everything and nothing.
“And a girlfriend?” she asked, pouring me more wine.
“No. Women my age don’t do anything for me,” I replied, looking her in the eyes. “I like women with more life experience.”
She smiled slowly.
“Really? And have you had any luck with someone… more experienced?”
“A few,” I said. “And I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”
She set her glass on the table. The silence grew thick.
“Would you like to watch something in the living room?” she asked.
I followed her. I sat on the sofa and she settled beside me, resting her head on my shoulder as if it were the most natural thing in the world. I shifted slightly, and her head slid down onto my chest. I ran my hand through her hair and stroked it. She sighed. She took a blanket from the back of the sofa and covered her legs.
I lowered my face and kissed her hair. She remained very still. Then, slowly, she looked up, and we stared at each other from a few inches away without saying a word. Words were unnecessary. She was a married woman who had patiently moved every piece into place to arrive at exactly that moment. When her mouth sought mine, there was no turning back.
The kiss was long and deep, tasting of wine and tongue from the very first second. Her arms went around my neck and she pressed herself against me, rubbing her tits against my chest.
“I love the way you kiss,” she murmured, barely pulling away, biting my lower lip before releasing it.
I didn’t answer. I sought her mouth again and slipped my hand down her cleavage until I found a hard nipple, which I pinched slowly. She moaned into my mouth. One of her hands moved down to my crotch, and I felt her pause for a moment when she realized how hard I was beneath my jeans.
“Fuck, what a package,” she whispered.
Curious, almost astonished, she undid my pants, and I helped her free the cock I had been holding back all night. It sprang out, hard and throbbing, against her hand. Beatriz closed her fingers around it and weighed it, measuring me with her open palm.
“God…” she said, biting her lip. “And it’s thick, too.”
Without removing the blanket, she lowered herself, moved the cloth aside, and brought her mouth closer. I leaned against the armrest to give her a better angle. First came her tongue, slow, traveling over me from my balls to the tip, pausing to lick my frenulum while her hand turned slowly at the base. She took my balls into her mouth one at a time, sucking them hungrily, and looked up at me with dark, shining eyes. Then she opened her mouth and took me in all the way, unhurried, down to the back of her throat, pressing her lips against the root as she swallowed. I could feel my cock disappearing inside her and coming back out dripping with spit.
“That’s it, push my head,” she said, pulling off for a second. “It turns me on when you put it in until I gag.”
I buried my fingers in her hair and pushed firmly. She didn’t complain. On the contrary. She let me fuck her mouth, her eyes moist and her throat open, threads of saliva running down her chin and dripping between her tits. The blowjob went on and on, and whenever I felt I was about to come, she slowed down and pulled me out, spat on me, rubbed me across her face, and put me back in.
After a while she sat up, kissed me again, passing her own taste into my mouth, and climbed on top without taking off her dress completely. She pulled it up to her waist, held onto my shoulder, and guided the head of my cock to her pussy. She was soaked. She coated the tip thoroughly, sliding it over the lips of her cunt and across her clit, then let her weight drop.
“You’re so fucking hard,” she gasped, lowering herself to the bottom. “You fill me completely.”
She wasn’t wearing anything underneath. I grabbed her hips and helped her set the rhythm. She began slowly, moving in circles, splashing every time she rose and fell, then sped up, her moans growing louder as her back arched. She slipped the dress off her shoulders and pulled her tits free, those same tits that had kept me awake since I’d watched her from the orchard—round and heavy, with dark, erect nipples. She offered them to my mouth, and I sucked them hungrily, tugging at a nipple with my teeth while she rode my cock.
“That’s it, that’s it… suck them,” she repeated, squeezing me with her thighs. “Don’t stop. Fuck me, sweetheart, fuck me—I haven’t been fucked like this in months.”
She collapsed onto me, pressing her mouth to my ear without stopping the movement of her ass.
“This is unbelievable,” she whispered. “It’s been centuries since a cock reached this deep inside me.”
The sofa creaked with every thrust. I grabbed her ass with both hands and began thrusting up from underneath, driving into her all the way with each stroke, listening to her scream whenever I touched something that drove her wild. I held back, gritting my teeth and thinking of anything that would keep me from coming too soon, because I knew everything that might happen afterward depended on it. Beatriz gripped the back of the sofa, leaned backward, and sped up in search of her release, rubbing her clit against my pubic bone each time she came down.
“I’m coming… I’m coming, don’t stop, don’t stop,” she moaned, and her voice broke into a long tremor that shook her whole body and squeezed her pussy around my cock in waves. I felt her wetness soak my balls, drenching my pants and the sofa.
She stayed like that for a while, breathing against my neck, my cock still inside her. Then she kissed me slowly.
“No one knows about this,” she said, looking at me very seriously. “If you keep your word, we’ll do it a thousand times.”
“No one will ever know,” I promised her. “In fact, it never happened.”
She smiled.
“I love that answer. Come on, let’s go to bed. You still haven’t come, and I’m hungry.”
***
The bedroom was the marital bedroom. I don’t know whether she chose it on purpose; I didn’t ask. She let the dress fall to the floor and was left wearing only a pair of mid-heeled clogs, which she took off as well. She stood naked before me and slowly turned so I could see all of her: tits sagging in exactly the right way, a flat stomach, a high, round ass, and a shaved pussy already red and swollen from the fuck on the sofa.
She pushed me onto the bed and went for my cock again, but I turned her around and positioned her on top, and we ended up in a perfect sixty-nine. I spread her ass cheeks and opened her pussy with my thumbs, pausing for a second to watch it contract, glistening with her own juices. I ran my tongue all the way from her clit to her asshole and back, and she jumped and shoved my cock deep into her mouth to muffle the cry.
I ate her hungrily. I licked her lips one by one, pushed my tongue inside her and moved it as if I were fucking her, sucked her clit between my lips and gently bit it, while two fingers went in and out of her pussy and my thumb stroked her asshole. She couldn’t stop moaning with my cock inside her, and every moan vibrated along its length.
“The way you eat me, you son of a bitch…” she roared when she couldn’t take any more, pulling my cock from her mouth and rubbing herself against my face until she chained together a long orgasm that made her convulse, squeezing my thighs against her ears. I drank her whole, swallowing what dripped down my chin.
Later I learned that she loved having one orgasm after another, and that neither her husband nor anyone else had ever lasted long enough to make it happen. That night she understood that with me she could come three, four, five times in a row if she wanted, and that, more than anything else, was what hooked her.
When she relaxed, she turned and looked at me with a crooked smile, her mouth still shining with my spit.
“How do you like me?”
“On all fours,” I said. “With your ass held high.”
“Done. But promise me one thing: before you come, pull out. Don’t come inside me.”
She climbed off the bed and got down on all fours on the floor, which gave me more room to work. I knelt behind her, grabbed her hips, and ran my cock from top to bottom along the cleft of her pussy, coating it with her juices. The tip slipped in on its own. I pushed once, all the way to the bottom, and felt her ass collide with my stomach.
She gave a muffled cry, but immediately began pushing backward, seeking more.
“Fuck me hard. Don’t treat me like a girlfriend—fuck me like a whore,” she asked, looking over her shoulder.
I grabbed one cheek in each hand, spread them so I could watch myself enter and leave her, and fucked her at a brutal pace. The slapping filled the room. Her tits swung beneath her, hitting the floor with every thrust. I slapped her ass, leaving the red imprint of my hand. She moaned and asked for another. I gave her another. And another. And another, until her ass was bright red.
“Grab my hair,” she gasped.
I wrapped her ponytail around my fist and pulled backward. Her back arched, and I drew her head almost against my shoulder without stopping my thrusts. I spat into her open mouth, and she swallowed the saliva and asked for more. I said things in her ear that no one had ever said to her, and she answered with things I’m sure she had never said to her husband.
“Break my pussy,” she panted. “Break it. This is what I need. Never leave me.”
I changed the angle and thrust slowly, all the way in, and felt her contract around my cock again.
“Again, I’m coming again,” she shrieked, and let herself go with her face against the floor, biting her arm.
I held out as long as I could, my balls tight and my cock on the edge, and when there was no room left, I pulled out in time. I spread her cheeks and came in streams over her ass and back, a long, thick spurt that ran between her cheeks to the cleft of her pussy. I rubbed my cock over her buttocks, smearing it across her, and she rocked her hips with a moan, enjoying the way I marked her.
We kissed again, exhausted, both of us laughing like accomplices in something that had only just begun.
***
The next day was Saturday. Beatriz asked my mother to let me go over during the afternoon nap, using the excuse that she needed to prepare another room. I arrived and the door was open.
“Close it and lock it,” I heard from inside.
When she appeared, I was speechless. She wore a thin burgundy robe and, underneath, a black lingerie set with garters and stockings that barely contained anything: her bra left her nipples exposed, and her panties were such a thin thong that it disappeared between her buttocks and left her pussy almost bare. She had dressed up for me.
“Did I surprise you?” she asked, turning so I could see her ass framed by the garter belt.
“Very much,” was all I managed to say before she threw herself at me and tore off my pants.
That afternoon she was the one in control. She undressed me, pushed me onto the bed, and knelt between my legs. She sucked me again, but this time with no hurry at all, exploratory, pausing at my balls, licking the cleft of my ass with her tongue extended, looking me in the eyes as she ate me. She gave me the best blowjob I had ever received, with a freedom that shouted everything she couldn’t do with Andrés. She spat on the tip and rubbed it over her tits, ran my cock between her nipples and squeezed it with them, then took it back into her throat.
Then she climbed on top, sat on my face while gripping the headboard, and forced me to eat her pussy until she came again, suffocating me between her thighs, rubbing herself over my nose and mouth before we began in earnest.
We fucked for hours, changing positions and stopping only to catch our breath and drink water. I fucked her against the wall with her legs around my waist, on the bedroom table, with her on her back and her knees against her ears so I could drive into her womb, and on her side with one leg raised while I pinched her nipples. At one point she opened the wardrobe, turned the mirrored doors toward us, and took a thick, dark toy with a wide base from a drawer.
“Are you up for something more?” she asked, biting her lip. “You from behind… and me with this in front.”
She got on all fours in front of the mirror. I took the jar of cream from the bedside table that I had seen the previous night and coated my fingers. I prepared her patiently, first with my tongue, spreading her cheeks and slowly licking her asshole until she began pushing against my face. Then I inserted one finger, and then two, twisting them and opening her from inside while she settled the toy against her pussy and began moving it herself.
“Put it in me already, I can’t take it,” she begged.
I placed the tip against her ass, dripping wet, and pushed slowly. I felt the ring give way millimeter by millimeter, while she panted and asked me to take it slowly, until the head went all the way in and she released a long moan. I stayed still, letting her adjust, then continued entering until I reached the bottom. She felt incredibly tight, and from the other side I could feel the toy moving inside her, rubbing my cock through the wall of flesh.
“God, that feels so good, you’re filling me so completely,” she moaned, watching us in the mirror. “Don’t stop, just like that.”
I began moving very slowly, coordinating with the toy she was sliding in and out of her pussy. Every thrust made her scream, and she responded by pushing the toy faster, until the two rhythms came together and we fucked her completely, doubly, leaving no empty space inside her body. In the mirror I watched her bite her lip, her tits hanging and moving in rhythm, her face contorted with pleasure.
“Harder, harder, don’t be gentle with me,” she begged.
I grabbed her waist and pounded her eagerly. The slapping of the toy and the smack of my balls against her buttocks filled the room. I had her full everywhere, and pleasure spilled over her. At the climax she released a different, more intense shudder, and I felt a hot stream burst from her pussy around the toy, soaking the sheets and my thighs. She collapsed face-first, spent, moaning softly, my cock still buried in her ass.
I held out until the last second, pulled my cock from her ass, and she quickly turned, lay on her back with her mouth open and her tits facing me.
“Come in my mouth and on my tits,” she begged, grabbing my cock and jerking it herself.
I came in streams. The first spurt went into her mouth and ran from the corner to her chin. The second and third landed between her tits, and she gathered them with her fingers and brought them to her tongue without taking her eyes off me. She wiped my cock across her face, milked it for every last drop, and sucked it clean.
“That was the best thing in my life,” she said, embracing me, still shining with my cum. “We have to do this again. Whenever you want, whenever the boy isn’t here—you know where I live.”
“Thank you for trusting me,” I replied.
“Thank you, sweetheart. I’m going to take very good care of you. And I’m going to teach you things you’ve never seen in your life.”
***
That was how nearly thirteen years of being lovers began. I stayed discreet until the very end. When Andrés came home from his trips, I disappeared without a trace; when he went back to sea, the house behind the orchard opened its door to me again. Years later, when I was older, my mother asked me only once whether there was something between Beatriz and me. I told her no, that Beatriz was a good friend of hers and nothing more. Sometimes I think she suspected. She never pressed me.
Today, when I run into Beatriz at a village wedding, we simply smile at each other. Nothing more is needed. But whenever I see a mature, confident woman, with the calm that only comes with age, I return to that freshly painted house, to her tits bouncing against my face, to her ass squeezing my cock, and I understand why I’ve never been interested in anyone else.
