The Trans Neighbor Who Pushed Me Toward My Mother

Diego was lying on his back in bed, silently masturbating with his eyes closed. Only three hours had passed since the end-of-term party, and the image of Camila kneeling in the pub bathroom, sucking his cock with a brazenness he had never seen before still burned in his head. His trans neighbor, the one across the hall, the one who had been watching him from her window for months as if she had all the time in the world.

He was stroking up and down the shaft, remembering those full lips closing around the glans, when he heard footsteps in the hallway. He barely had time to cover himself with the sheet.

—Diego? —his mother called before pushing the door open.

Marisol crossed the room without turning on the light and sat on the edge of the bed. She was wearing a thin gauze nightdress he had seen her in before, but tonight, with only the hallway lamp providing any light, she seemed like he was seeing her for the first time. The fabric was sheer over her breasts, the areolas darkening two spots on the nightgown, the nipples standing hard beneath the cotton.

—Tell me, honey. How was the party?

—Good —he answered, forcing his voice to sound natural.

—Just good? —she insisted, playing with a lock of his hair.

—Good, Mom. Really.

The erection was still rigid under the sheet, lifting the fabric into a bulge anyone would have noticed at a glance. Diego focused on not moving a millimeter while Marisol smiled at him with that usual tenderness, oblivious to the state her son was in. He couldn’t stop looking at her nipples.

What Camila said can’t be true. My mother isn’t like that.

That afternoon, before sucking him off in the pub bathroom, his neighbor had laughed and told him she had seen Marisol coming into the building in the middle of the night more than once, always with different men. That she looked like a very needy woman. That one day she was going to throw herself at someone, and why not her own son. He had laughed without laughing, determined to forget it as soon as he left the bathroom. But now, with his mother so close and the nightdress hiding nothing, her words came back on a loop.

Without fully thinking, his free hand brushed Marisol’s hip. She didn’t pull away. Diego slid it a little farther, pretending it was an unconscious gesture, and found the firm, tight curve of her ass. He squeezed it very lightly, expecting a scolding that never came.

—You should go out with girls more, Diego. You’re old enough now —she murmured, and the boy thought he felt her shift a millimeter to give his hand more room.

—Yes, Mom.

His cock gave a jolt beneath the sheet. Marisol dropped her gaze for a second—just a blink—and looked away to the window at once, pretending she hadn’t seen anything. But she had startled. Now she stroked his hair with a different rhythm, faster.

—I’m going now, I have to be in early tomorrow —she said suddenly.

She kissed him on the cheek, stood up, and hurried out toward the bathroom. Diego heard the tap turn on, heard the water running for too long, then heard a long sigh. He smiled in the dark. Maybe Camila wasn’t so wrong after all.

***

The sound of a shutter in the courtyard woke him from bed. He peered out carefully and saw Camila in her room, right across from him. She had turned on the desk lamp and was unbuttoning her blouse in front of the mirror, slowly, knowing perfectly well that he would be watching. She slid it off her arms, let it fall to the floor, and stood in front of the glass with her tits out, kneading them with both hands.

Her tits weren’t like any ordinary woman’s. They were round, full, with small dark areolas. The hormone treatments had given her everything she had asked for. And below, hidden under the skirt, she kept what he had unknowingly sucked that afternoon.

She raised her eyes, found him in the window opposite, and made the unmistakable gesture with her hand.

—Tomorrow at five —she said softly, exaggerating the movement of her lips so he could read them—. If you don’t come, I’ll talk to your mother.

—No —Diego muttered, though she couldn’t hear him.

Camila understood anyway that he was hesitating. Her face hardened and she shaped the words that frightened him most with her lips: “I’ll tell her about the bathroom.” Then she dropped the blind with a snap and left him in the dark.

Diego didn’t sleep. He spent the whole night turning over, looking for an excuse not to show up the next day, with no success. He was on vacation, his mother left for work at eight and came back at four-thirty. There was no way to hide.

***

Marisol got home from work at her usual time. Diego was on the couch pretending to watch television when she crossed the living room. She was wearing a dark blue dress that clung to every inch of her body. Until then, he had never paid attention to his mother’s figure; now, after the night before and what Camila had put into his head, he couldn’t look at anything else.

The neckline showed a cleavage he would swear he had never seen before. Wide hips, a flat stomach, a perky ass swaying as she walked. Diego looked away when she turned and hurried to his room before his erection could show.

—Diego! —she called from the bathroom a few minutes later—. Can you grab me a towel from the closet?

He took one and went in with his eyes nearly shut, holding the bulge in his pants with his free hand. Marisol was under the shower, with the curtain pulled halfway across. He handed her the towel without looking.

—Silly boy —she laughed—. Open your eyes or you’ll bump into something.

He opened them on reflex. The curtain still covered almost all of her body, but when she turned around to leave, the mirror on the door gave him the full image back: white breasts with large areolas, her stomach, a triangle of brown hair descending toward her sex. Marisol couldn’t see him. Diego stepped out very slowly, not missing a detail, and closed the door, making sure the click was as quiet as possible.

He reached his room with his cock bouncing against the zipper. He was about to start masturbating thinking of his mother when the doorbell rang. He got himself under control as best he could and went downstairs.

—Hi, neighbor —Camila said from the landing, speaking loudly so Marisol could hear from the hall—. I need a hand with a lamp. Do you have a minute?

Marisol appeared at once, smiling with that neighborhood friendliness she reserved for the neighbors. The two women greeted each other with two kisses. Diego saw his mother’s gaze drop to Camila’s cleavage, brief but shameless, before returning to her face.

—What a beautiful mother you have, Diego —Camila said with a grin from ear to ear—. And so well-mannered.

—Thank you, how kind —Marisol replied—. If you want, come over for dinner with us when you’re done with the lamp. I’ve made extra.

—I’d love to.

They closed the door and went downstairs. Diego felt Camila’s gaze nailed to him. He knew perfectly well why she had made him come up.

***

As soon as they got into her apartment, Camila locked the door from the inside and shoved him against the hallway wall. She kissed him with absolute shamelessness, sliding her tongue into his mouth and biting his lower lip.

—You heard your mother —she whispered—. “Help your friend with whatever she needs.”

—I… I don’t want to —he tried.

—I, I, I —she mocked—. Shut your mouth, little faggot.

She unbuttoned his pants and pulled them down to mid-thigh. His cock sprang out, already hard. Camila knelt without breaking eye contact and started stroking it with her fingers, slowly, speaking to him with her gaze fixed on his eyes.

—Has your mother ever sucked your cock?

—No —Diego answered, as if the question itself were blasphemy.

—Well, she’s dying to. Didn’t you see how she looked at you just now in the doorway? That woman’s pussy has been burning for years.

—Don’t say that.

—You saw the way she looked at my cleavage. What if her taste isn’t what you think? What if what turns her on is what you’ve got between your legs, and not some old guy from work?

Diego closed his eyes. The image of Marisol under the shower had been burned into him. Her white tits, the pubic hair, the big nipples. Imagining them wrapping around his cock quickened his breathing.

Camila noticed. She ran her tongue over the glans, collected a bead of precum, and showed it to him before swallowing it.

—Tonight, when you go home, you have to check —she said—. When you’re alone, slide your hand under her nightdress. If she pulls away, she pulls away. But I’d bet you anything that bitch will spread her legs as soon as you touch her.

—Shut up —he begged without conviction.

—Tell me how you imagine her sucking you off.

—Like you did this afternoon.

—But better, little faggot. Better, because she’s your mother and she’s had years to learn. —She took his cock all the way into her mouth, down to the throat, and held it there for a few seconds—. When you cum in her mouth, remember me.

She sucked with such ferocity that Diego could barely last two minutes. He buried his hands in her hair and emptied himself to the last drop. Camila swallowed everything without letting go, licked the glans twice more, and straightened up with a shiny chin.

—And now it’s your turn.

—No.

—Yes. —She pushed him by the shoulders until he was on his knees—. You did it with me, you’re going to do it again. And you’re going to learn, because the better you do it, the better you’ll know what you have to ask your mother for.

Diego had Camila’s cock a hand’s breadth from his face. It was dark, longer than his, with a big wet glans. He smelled it without meaning to, and the scent made him dizzy. I don’t like cocks. I don’t like men. She isn’t a man. What is this?

Camila cupped his face and gently pushed him forward. The glans brushed his lips, leaving a line of wetness. Diego stuck out his tongue reflexively, caught the salty taste, and, not really knowing why, opened his mouth.

—That’s it, little bitch. Slowly, so you have time to taste it.

She pushed it in as far as he could take. He gagged and pulled back. Camila stroked the back of his neck with a patience that was surprising after the haste with which she had stripped his pants off.

—Again. And breathe through your nose.

Diego obeyed. While he sucked, she kept talking nonstop, whispering phrases that sank into his head.

—Imagine your mother doing this to you. Her little mouth on your cock. Her tongue going up and down. Imagine her looking up at you the way I’m looking at you now.

The boy closed his eyes and imagined Marisol kneeling on the floor in the entryway of her apartment, her breasts hanging out of her open nightdress, her mouth full of his cock. His dick twitched again inside Camila’s mouth.

—What are you going to tell her tonight when she comes in to say good night? —she asked, taking it out of her mouth for an instant.

—That…

—Say it, little faggot. Spit it out.

—That she sucks my cock. Like she does with the guys from work.

—That’s it. Again.

—That she sucks my cock, that she’s a whore, that she takes it in her mouth and swallows all my cum.

Camila moaned as if what he was saying affected her even more than the blowjob. She took his cock back into her mouth and started fucking it slowly, keeping the rhythm steady. Diego gave in. He could feel his own cock harder than ever, rubbing against the tile, and the image of his mother with her mouth open replaced Camila every couple of thrusts.

—I’m going to cum now —she warned, squeezing his hair—. You’re going to swallow every last drop, and tomorrow when you see your mother you’re going to remember what it tastes like.

Diego couldn’t pull away even if he had wanted to. He felt the first hot spurt against his palate, then another, then two more. He swallowed as best he could, choking, while Camila held his head with both hands. When she let him go, a thread of semen was running from his chin down to his neck.

***

He got up silently and went into the bathroom. He looked at himself in the mirror and saw himself. Wet lips, a stained neck, red eyes. His stomach churned. He vomited a little into the sink, turned on the tap, and soaped out his mouth three times in a row. You’re not going to call me again. You’re not going to touch me again. That was what he was going to tell her as soon as he stepped out.

But before he could open the bathroom door, the apartment doorbell rang. Diego froze. He heard Camila’s voice on the other side, cheerful and normal, letting his mother in.

—Hi, Marisol. Your son’s a champ. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t be done today.

—I’m so glad —his mother answered from the landing, delighted—. Come home, dinner’s ready.

Diego turned off the tap. He dried his face. He looked one last time in the mirror and discovered, with a shiver he couldn’t tell was fear or arousal, that his cock was hard again beneath his pants.