The Mature Woman on the Fifth Floor Who Drove Me Crazy

The smoke from the grill rose straight up into a leaden Sunday sky. Andrés was stirring the coals with a branch while I opened the second beer, and both of us had that good-for-nothing laziness that comes with afternoons when there’s no rush for anything. He was the one who noticed I was smiling to myself, staring at the fire.

—And what’s with that idiot grin? —he said—. Something happened to you.

I took a long drink before answering. I’d spent the whole week wanting to tell someone.

—I fucked the woman from the fifth floor —I said at last—. That blonde, Bianca, the one with the unbelievable body. And it was the best fuck of my life, I swear on what’s holiest.

—The one who climbs the stairs and the whole building turns to look at her ass?

—That’s the one. The one who makes you turn your head when she goes to the gym. We’d been playing our little game for weeks, man. We’d cross paths in the garage and I’d give her a “good morning” with half a smile, and she’d give me a look that kept my cock hard for the rest of the day. Or we’d “by coincidence” end up in the elevator and she’d lean in a little more than necessary, rubbing that huge ass of hers against me like it was nothing.

—Those coincidences are never coincidences —Andrés laughed.

—Tell me about it. One day I ran into her coming out of the gym, sweaty, with those leggings that look painted on and had her cunt outlined from the front, and I blurted out, “Fuck, Bianca, you look better every day.” She looked at me over her shoulder, slowly, and said, “Then help me look even better.” And she kept walking, swinging that ass the way she knew how. I almost froze right there, hard as a rock, with a boner that barely fit in my pants.

—What a beast.

—A beast in her forties with more brains than twenty girls put together. That’s the thing: she wasn’t some lost little girl, she knew perfectly well what she was doing and what cock she wanted. And that made me even crazier.

Andrés lowered the grill lid and sat down in the plastic chair across from me, like a kid waiting for the end of a story.

—All right, don’t leave me hanging. What did you do?

—I held out for three days. Three days of jerking off thinking about her. In the end I called her and said it straight: “What are you doing this afternoon?” She said, “Nothing special.” “Then meet me downstairs, I’ll buy you a coffee.” Twenty minutes later we were sitting on the terrace of the café on the corner, with two beers and a fake conversation, because neither of us was there to talk.

—I can imagine.

—At one point I put my hand on her knee under the table and slid it slowly up her thigh. She didn’t pull away. On the contrary: she spread her legs a little and let me get to her crotch. I rubbed her cunt through her skirt and felt how hot she was, and she stuck those eyes into me like she was saying, “Go on then, if you dare.” I leaned into her ear and told her, “Let’s go somewhere I can shove my cock into you without this fucking table in the way.” She smiled, bit her lip, and said, “Then pay and let’s go.” I paid in one swipe and we left.

—To your place, with your wife around?

—Hell no, no fucking way. There’s a small hotel on the old road, discreet, one of those places nobody from the neighborhood goes to. In the car we barely spoke. Her hand was down in my pants, pulling my cock out and stroking it slowly while I drove and prayed we wouldn’t slam into a lamppost.

—You’re a public danger.

—I am —I laughed—. We went into the room and it was like we’d been waiting months for that moment. I closed the door and she turned, leaned against the wall, and looked at me. I told her, “Since the first time I saw you in the garage, I haven’t thought about anything except fucking you.” And she, unhurried, started unbuttoning her blouse, button by button, staring at me the whole time. Under it she wore a black lace bra that was barely containing a pair of huge tits spilling out at the top. She took it off herself and shoved them in front of me, two big, firm tits, the nipples pink and already hard as rocks.

Andrés let out a low whistle and took a drink of his beer.

—Keep going, keep going, you bastard.

—I stepped closer and grabbed them with both hands, squeezed them hard, and took one nipple into my mouth. I licked it properly, tugging it with my teeth, and she threw her head back and let out the first moan. I yanked her skirt down and found lace panties underneath, soaked through in the front. I ran a finger over the fabric and folded it aside to slide a finger straight into her cunt. She was wet, dripping. “I’ve been like this all week because of you,” she whispered in my ear.

—Fuck, man, shut up already, I’m getting horny.

—We undressed while kissing, she pulled my cock out of my pants and her hand went straight to grabbing it. She squeezed it, looked at it, and said, “What a cock you’ve got, bastard.” She dropped to her knees right there against the wall and took the whole thing into her mouth without warning. Andrés, man, this woman sucks cock like nobody else. She took me deep, pulled me out dripping with spit, rubbed me across her face, licked my balls one by one while still working my cock with her hand. I grabbed her head and she let me, looking up at me from below with those good-slut eyes.

—What a fucking bitch.

—I had to tell her to stop because I was going to cum in her mouth in two minutes. I lifted her up, took her to the bed, and laid her down. She leaned back and looked up at me with a calm that turned me on more than any scream. I moved in to fuck her, and when I went straight for the kill she stopped me with a hand on my chest and said, “Slowly. Eat me out properly first. I want to cum in your mouth before anything else.” A woman who knows how to ask for what she wants, Andrés. That’s priceless.

—And you ate her out?

—Like God intended. I settled between her legs and took my time. I started on the inside of her thighs, kissing and biting gently, slowly working my way up, making her wait. I spread her legs wide and found that pink cunt, completely shaved, gleaming from how wet it was. I ran my tongue from bottom to top, very slowly, tasting her all over, and she let out a muffled “fuck” that got me even harder.

—Fuck, now that’s class.

—I shoved my tongue into her, then took it up to her clit and started licking it in circles, flat at first, then with the tip, sucking it between my lips like candy. I slid two fingers in slowly, all the way in, searching for that rough spot inside that makes them go weak at the knees, and started curling them toward me like I was calling her. She grabbed my hair, started grinding my face against her cunt, and kept repeating, “There, right there, don’t stop, don’t stop, keep licking me, I’m going to cum.” The bed creaked, the room smelled of wet pussy, and I could feel her thighs tightening on either side of my head and the fingers she had inside clenching around mine. I didn’t stop. She came with her legs squeezing my head, shaking all over, letting out a long moan that broke at the end and filled my mouth with juice. I stayed there a while, licking her softly, and she was laughing under her breath, her cunt pulsing against my tongue.

—That’s art. The rest is just fucking —said Andrés, and we toasted like two idiots.

—When she caught her breath she looked at me and said, “Now it’s your turn, but my way.” She made me lie down and climbed on top of me. She licked me from my feet to my neck, bit my nipples, dragged her tits across my face, and made me suck them again. Then she went down and ate my cock again, this time with even more filthy intent, spitting on the head and rubbing it with both hands while staring at me. She took my balls into her mouth one by one, ran them over her lips, and swallowed my cock whole again. She wasn’t in any hurry, and that was killing me. I was trying to hold on, but I’d spent weeks imagining exactly that.

—And did you hold out?

—Just barely. I asked her to stop because I didn’t want to cum that fast, and she laughed against my cock, pleased to have that power, and climbed on top of me. She gripped my cock with her hand, placed it at the entrance to her cunt, and lowered herself slowly, impaling herself all the way down in one go. Jesus, Andrés. I still have the scream she let out when she took me to the hilt etched in my head. She moved slowly, setting the pace herself, rising and falling on my cock with her hands braced on my chest, throwing her head back and letting her blond mane fall down her back. The lamp light on the nightstand outlined her silhouette and her tits bounced with every thrust, and I didn’t know where to look first. I held her hips and dug my fingers in, but she was the one in charge, the one deciding when to ride me faster and when to torture me by going slow, squeezing her cunt around my cock every time she rose. She looked at me with the face of a happy slut, biting her lip, and that was worth more than any position in the world.

—She’s got you hooked, I can tell.

—Wait, there’s more. At one point she leaned forward, shoved her tits in my face so I’d suck them, kissed me with tongue, and whispered, “Put me however you want, use me.” I turned her over, she got on all fours on the bed with her ass up high, and then I stopped thinking. I grabbed her hips, slammed my cock in with one shove, and started fucking her hard, driving into her to the hilt. The sound of my pelvis against her ass filled the room, her hanging tits swayed underneath her, and she kept asking for more. I slapped her ass and she let out, “Harder.” I slapped her again, sharper this time, and my handprint stayed on her cheek. “Like that, bastard, give it to me like that,” she begged, pushing her ass back against me so I’d drive it in balls-deep. I grabbed her hair, wound it around my fist, and pulled back while I kept pounding into her. A shameless woman who knows what she wants and doesn’t mess around.

—That’s the best thing about mature women —Andrés declared—. You don’t have to guess anything.

—Exactly. I got a finger wet in her own cunt and ran it over her asshole, and she looked back over her shoulder and said, “Put it in there too, that gets me off.” I slid it in slowly while I kept fucking her pussy, and she came again, squeezing everything around me, moaning like a madwoman into the pillow. We finished with her on her back, legs over my shoulders, me fucking her while we looked each other in the face, her tits bouncing with every thrust. I sucked one nipple while I drove into her hard and she dug her nails into my back. I held on until I couldn’t anymore and asked her where she wanted it. She smiled and said, “Outside, cum on my tits.” I pulled my cock out, jerked it twice over her, and shot a stream of hot cum that ran from her neck to her navel, coating her tits. She ran her fingers through the semen, brought them to her mouth and sucked them clean, licked her lips, and said, biting her lip, “You’re going to have to do that again.”

—And did you?

—Not yet, but she’s texted me three times this week. Yesterday she sent me a mirror selfie from the gym with a “thinking of you.” This woman is going to get me into trouble, Andrés, I know it. But it’s been years since I felt like this.

—And Marta? —he asked, lowering his voice.

The question hit me like a bucket of cold water. I stirred the beer inside the can without looking at him.

—Marta doesn’t suspect a thing —I said at last—. And that’s the problem, you know? I should feel guilty and I don’t. We haven’t fucked properly in years, we sleep back to back, we only talk about bills and the kids. And then this woman shows up and I feel alive again, with my cock hard like when I was twenty. I don’t know what the fuck to do with that.

Andrés looked at me for a long moment, serious for the first time all afternoon.

—Be careful —he told me—. The things that make you feel that alive are exactly the things that can burn everything down for you.

—I know.

—So are you going to stop?

I kept staring at the coals, which were already dying and turning gray around the edges. I didn’t answer right away. The truth is I didn’t have an answer, or I did and didn’t dare say it out loud.

—Flip the meat —I said at last—. It’s burning.

Andrés laughed, lifted the grill lid, and let the subject drop. But we both knew the answer. I wasn’t going to stop. That very night, when Marta fell asleep in front of the TV, I took out my phone in the kitchen and texted Bianca: “Tomorrow?” She took less than a minute to reply. “I thought you’d never ask.”