The Neighbor’s Birthday Ended Differently

We live on the fourth floor of a seven-story building in a residential neighborhood that over the years has become something quiet and predictable. On the third floor live Don Aurelio and Don Marcos: two retirees in their mid-sixties, always well put together, always with a kind word in the elevator. We’ve known each other for four years. They’re the kind of men who hold the door open without expecting anything in return and ask about your family because they genuinely care about the answer.

My name is Valeria. Thirty-two years old. My husband Rodrigo says I’m better than the day we met, and he proves it quite often, fucking me against the hallway wall when he gets home from work with his cock already hard before he even says hello. I’m aware of what I’ve got: wide hips, a slim waist, firm tits that hold themselves up, big nipples that harden at the slightest thing, and a shaved cunt that Rodrigo spends hours licking when he gets in the mood. When I go downstairs to get the mail in a tight T-shirt and summer shorts, there are men who stop dead in the middle of whatever they’re doing.

Don Aurelio and Don Marcos have never overstepped. But they look. I’ve caught them enough times to know it for certain: the glance that drops away quickly when you turn around, the second too long of silence when you say goodbye in the stairwell, the bulge that sometimes shows in their trousers when they think I don’t notice.

***

What started as brief chats by the mailbox turned, over time, into improvised breakfasts. Some mornings I’d come downstairs with freshly made coffee, or they’d come up with bread from the neighborhood bakery, and we’d spend an hour talking about anything at all: the news, the seventh-floor neighbors who argued too loudly, memories of when they were young. Rodrigo was present at some of those gatherings. In others, he wasn’t.

When he wasn’t there, the atmosphere changed in a way that was hard to name but easy to feel. The looks lasted a second longer. Don Marcos would pass me the sugar and his fingers would linger on mine. Don Aurelio would lean forward to hear me better and his gaze would drop, without the slightest attempt to hide it, to the neckline of my blouse, and I could feel his jaw tighten when my nipples showed through the fabric.

I didn’t do anything to stop it. More than once I touched myself in the shower thinking about the two of them, imagining what it would be like to have them both on top of me at once, one fucking me from the front and the other from behind, and I’d come fast and hard against my fingers.

I knew exactly what I was doing.

***

Rodrigo had to leave for fifteen days for work. A crisis at a branch in the north of the country, someone had to go handle it, and that someone was him. I said goodbye to him at the door with a long kiss, feeling his chest against my palms, thinking that fifteen days were too many.

The first few days I managed on my own, with my fingers and the vibrator I keep in the nightstand drawer. By the sixth day I was bored. By the ninth, I was bored in a way that had little to do with free time: I’d wake up with my cunt wet, my mind drifting toward places it shouldn’t visit, a physical restlessness I recognized even though I preferred not to name it. I needed a real cock, hot and hard, not plastic. I told myself several times it was just a matter of waiting. I believed it for a while.

On the eleventh day, at midday, the doorbell rang.

Don Aurelio and Don Marcos stood there with a bottle of red wine and smiles that were no longer pretending to be innocent. Don Aurelio carried the bottle like a bouquet of flowers, with that calm formality men have when they know how to wait.

—Today is Marcos’s birthday —he said, looking at me in a way that was no longer pretending to be casual—. It would be a shame to celebrate it alone.

I didn’t take even three seconds to decide.

—Come up —I said—. I have glasses.

***

While they came upstairs, I changed clothes. The house dress fell to the floor and I put on a thin cotton dress, sleeveless, fitted at the hips and moving when I moved. I didn’t put on a bra. I thought about it for two seconds. Decided not to. I also took off my panties and tossed them in the hamper: I wanted to be ready, without layers, without excuses.

We sat in the living room. Don Marcos opened the wine. I put on soft music, something that would fill the silences without dominating them. The afternoon had that horizontal end-of-day light that makes everything more intimate than it is, blurring edges and softening angles.

Don Aurelio looked me up and down when I sat in front of them, crossing and uncrossing my legs just enough for his gaze to slip between my thighs.

—You look very good this afternoon, Valeria —he said, with the same naturalness he might use to comment on the weather.

—It’s your friend’s birthday —I replied—. I should rise to the occasion.

We talked for a good while. The wine helped. Don Aurelio spoke shamelessly about his younger years: the women back then, the long nights, the mistakes he wouldn’t change for anything. Don Marcos listened and added details with a precision that said a great deal about the two of them. I listened to them and felt the afternoon thicken around the three of us, the air between us denser than before, charged with something none of us put into words because there was no need.

—In my day —said Don Aurelio, after a silence—, the women who came on to me never regretted it. That I can tell you.

—Everyone says that —I replied, smiling.

—Not everyone is right —he said, never taking his eyes off me.

Don Marcos set his glass on the table. He looked straight at me, without detours or preamble.

—The best birthday present you could give me —he said— would be to dance for us. Just that.

The silence lasted exactly as long as it took me to stand up.

***

I turned the music up a little. I positioned myself in the center of the living room and started moving. Hips first, in slow, wide circles. Then my back, arching it until I felt the dress tighten against my ass. I turned around, placed my palms on the wall, and stuck my ass out toward them, lowering myself by bending my knees until I was almost on the floor and then rising slowly again, letting the dress ride up to my waist so they could see that I wasn’t wearing anything underneath. I heard them both hold their breath at the same time.

—Fuck —murmured Don Marcos.

—The dress —he said afterward, his voice rough.

I turned back toward them. They were both staring at me with a fixed intensity that left no room for ambiguity. Don Aurelio had a considerable erection pressing against his dress trousers; he wasn’t even trying to hide it. I slid my thumbs under the straps, drew the dress down over my hips, and let it fall. I stood in front of them completely naked, nipples peaked and cunt shining with how wet I already was.

Don Aurelio rested his elbows on his knees.

—Come here.

I went to Don Marcos first. I put my hands on his shoulders and sat astride his lap slowly, controlling every centimeter of the descent. I felt his reaction immediately: his cock hard as a rod through the fabric, the pressure concentrated exactly against my soaked cunt. I moved forward and back, rubbing myself on him, leaving a wet stain on his beige trousers, feeling him swell even more under my weight. He put his hands on my hips without squeezing, without guiding me, just holding me, though his fingers were trembling.

—Happy birthday, Don Marcos —I whispered, very close to his face, biting his lower lip—. Can you feel how wet I am? It’s all yours.

He let out a rough, low sound I felt in my chest. I took one of his hands and brought it between my legs. I pushed two of his fingers into my cunt and heard them slip inside.

—Jesus Christ —he whispered—. You’re drenched.

—I’ve been like this for days —I told him in his ear—. Thinking about the two of you.

I went to Don Aurelio. I sat the same way on his lap. His reaction was different: more restrained in expression but more intense in the body, a tension running up his arms even though he kept them still on his thighs. I leaned into his ear, rubbing my cunt over the huge bulge lifting his trousers.

—How long have you been waiting for this? —I asked him.

—Too long —he replied, voice very low—. Four years imagining you naked, Valeria. Four years jacking off thinking of you after every coffee.

—Well, here I am —I said, and bit his earlobe.

***

Don Marcos stood up, took my hand, and led me to the sofa. He sat down, pulled me toward him, and kissed me, shoving his tongue deep inside me with a hunger that didn’t fit his usual manners. Firm lips, sure lips, someone with no urgency or clumsiness, but with every intention. Don Aurelio came up behind me, moved my hair off my neck, and worked his mouth along it while his hands sank into my tits from behind, pinching my nipples between thumb and forefinger until I moaned into Don Marcos’s mouth.

Don Marcos brought my hand down to his crotch. I opened his fly without breaking the kiss, pulled out his cock —thick, veined, surprisingly big for a man his age— and started stroking him slowly, pinching his foreskin, feeling him fill even more with every movement of my hand.

I ended up kneeling on the sofa between the two of them, their bodies hemming me in, and something about that position took my breath away completely. Within seconds they were both naked too: Don Aurelio behind me with a long cock curving upward, Don Marcos in front with his straight and throbbing in my hand. That contrast —me soaked and them with their cocks out, ready— lit me up in a way I hadn’t expected.

They laid me on the sofa. Don Marcos knelt between my legs and spread them without ceremony. He started on the insides of my thighs, moving upward slowly, not revealing where he was going even though it was obvious. When he got where he meant to go, he did it with his mouth and fingers at the same time: two thick fingers going in and out of my cunt at a steady rhythm while his tongue licked my clit in tight circles, methodical, precise, learning what made me close my eyes and what made me open them. He sucked my lips, went back up to lick my clit, dipped down to tongue me as deep as he could, and came back up again. I grabbed his white hair with both hands, pressing his face against me, rolling my hips against his mouth with no control at all.

—Like that, keep going like that —I begged—. Don’t stop, fuck, don’t stop.

I came sooner than I should have. I shouted without meaning to, arching off the sofa, clamping my thighs around his head as I came on his tongue in convulsions that shook me all over. I didn’t care. Don Aurelio, sitting beside me, stroked my tits and slipped his fingers into my mouth so I could suck them while I came apart under his friend.

Don Aurelio had taken off his shirt and trousers while I stared at the ceiling without seeing anything, still gasping. I sat up, found his cock with my hands, and took it in both. What he had between his legs was long, hot, and completely hard, the head already beaded with pre-cum. I brought it to my mouth and started slowly: first my tongue tracing the rim of the glans, sucking the fluid, then the head sliding all the way in, then deeper, until I felt it hit the back of my throat and had to pull away for a moment to catch my breath. I heard his breathing change over me with every movement.

—That’s it, pretty girl —he murmured, putting a hand on the back of my neck without pushing, just guiding—. Suck me like that.

I took him all the way in again, letting my mouth fill until it brought tears to my eyes, going up and down while my hand kept time with what my mouth couldn’t reach, sucking his balls between licks when I came up for air. Don Marcos, meanwhile, had put me on my knees and was licking my cunt from behind, fingers going in and out while his tongue worked into my ass, preparing me without saying it.

—Sit here —Don Aurelio told me, his voice very rough, pointing to his lap—. Ride me.

I positioned myself on top of him facing Don Marcos, who was just finishing kneeling on the other side of the sofa with his cock in his hand. I felt Don Aurelio’s pressure at my entrance, the tip just opening me, his hand guiding itself firmly inward, and I took him little by little, stretching to fit him, with a long moan I couldn’t hold back when he reached the end and I felt his balls slap against my ass. It was exactly what I had been needing for days without wanting to admit it: the full sensation of being completely occupied, a hard cock throbbing inside me, filling me to the brim.

—You’re so damn tight —he panted against my neck—. What a sweet cunt you have.

Don Aurelio began moving with a slow, deep rhythm, lifting me and lowering me by the hips, driving up from below every time I came down. I braced my hands on his shoulders and rode him, up and down, finding the angle that made me rub where I needed it on every drop. My tits bounced against his face and he took advantage of it to suck on them again and again, biting my nipples carefully, tugging on them with his lips.

Don Marcos came up standing in front of me, brushed my hair out of my face, and guided his cock to my mouth. I opened without thinking. I took him all the way down my throat, tasting him still mixed with my own juices, and started sucking at the same rhythm Don Aurelio was fucking me from below. The three of us found a common rhythm without anyone proposing it, as if we’d been doing this for a long time: every thrust from Don Aurelio underneath drove Don Marcos’s cock deeper into my mouth, and vice versa. I was trapped between two cocks, impaled and filled at both ends, and I had never felt anything so intense.

Don Marcos warned me when he was about to come, gripping my hair harder.

—I’m coming, Valeria, I’m coming in your mouth.

I took him all the way, without letting go. I felt the hot spurts slap my palate, one, two, three, thick and abundant, filling my mouth. I swallowed it all without looking away from his eyes, sucking him to the last drop while he trembled with a hand braced on my shoulder so he wouldn’t fall.

—My God —he muttered—. My God, woman.

***

The switches between them happened naturally, without instructions. Don Aurelio pulled out of me with his cock shining with my juices, turned me around, and positioned me on my knees on the sofa, ass up toward him. He entered my cunt from behind again with deeper strokes than before, his hands spread on my hips to keep the angle, his balls bumping against my clit with every thrust. I folded forward, arms resting on the backrest, and let myself be carried by the rhythm he set, harder and harder, more brutal each time, until the sofa started creaking with every blow.

—Harder —I asked him, biting my lip—. Fuck me harder, Don Aurelio.

He obeyed. He slapped my right cheek so hard I cried out, then again, and again, while he drove into me to the hilt with every thrust. I could feel my own fluids sliding down the insides of my thighs, each impact of his making a wet, filthy sound that filled the whole living room.

After several minutes Don Aurelio stopped. I felt his hands part my ass with both thumbs and return, this time a little higher, the tip of his cock pressing against my still-tight asshole, stroking me calmly, wetting it with my own juices dripping down from my cunt. He asked with the gesture, without words. I drew a breath.

—Slowly —I said.

Don Marcos, who had recovered sooner than I expected, handed me a little bottle of body oil from the coffee table. Don Aurelio put a good amount on his cock and more between my cheeks, spreading it with his thumb, slipping one finger into me first, then two, opening me slowly. I trembled all over with my head against the backrest, anxious and terrified in equal measure.

He entered centimeter by centimeter, with a patience I hadn’t expected from him. I felt the head forcing me open, and then yielding, and then the rest slid in more easily, until I felt his hips pressed against my ass and his hot breath on my back. The pain was real but brief, and what came after was something else: more intense, fuller, as if every nerve ending had woken up at once in places that hadn’t existed before. I moaned long against the back of the sofa, mouth open and drooling a little without being able to help it.

—What an ass, Valeria —he panted behind me—. What a tight ass, fuck.

Don Marcos stood in front of me and stroked my back with his open palm, looking at me, his cock already hard again and brushing my face.

—All right? —he asked softly.

—Yes —I answered, and I wasn’t lying—. Put it in my mouth again.

Don Aurelio started moving again, pulling almost all the way out and burying himself again, with slow, controlled thrusts at first that grew faster as my ass gave in and accepted him better. Don Marcos took my chin gently and guided his cock back into my mouth. The three of us moving, the sofa creaking under us, the living room filled with a sound that was only ours: skin slapping against skin, muffled moans, the heavy breathing of all three of us.

And even that wasn’t enough. Don Marcos withdrew for a moment, oiled his fingers too, and started rubbing my clit while Don Aurelio kept fucking my ass. The combination was too much: the cock filling me from behind with each thrust, Don Marcos’s skilled fingers circling the exact point of my clit, his eyes fixed on mine.

I reached my second orgasm in the middle of that movement, without warning, clinging to the backrest with white knuckles and my back arched, screaming something I didn’t even understand myself. My cunt contracted around the emptiness and my ass clenched around Don Aurelio’s cock, and I heard him let out a rough curse as he felt it.

—You’re squeezing me all over —he groaned—. Fuck, fuck, like that, come again.

Don Aurelio came after that. I felt it: a deep growl, the rhythm turning erratic and then stopping, his hands pinning my hips against his, and the heat that filled me inside, thick spurts emptying into my ass while he trembled against my back. He stayed inside for several seconds, breathing heavily against my nape, before slowly pulling out. I felt the semen start to slide between my cheeks as soon as he withdrew.

Don Marcos came last. He had been stroking himself calmly while watching, waiting his turn. He warned me in advance, gripping my chin with two fingers.

—Open your mouth, pretty girl.

I took him in my mouth and on my face too, two long spurts landing on my lips, my cheek, my chin, and I licked what I could reach with my tongue while he finished emptying himself. When he was done, he bent down and kissed me, tasting himself without the slightest shame.

***

We stayed still for several minutes, the three of us sprawled on the sofa, sweating, skin sticking to skin. The music kept playing. The afternoon had gone dark without anyone noticing.

Don Aurelio brought the wineglasses that had been left on the table. He handed me mine without saying a word. The wine was lukewarm but I didn’t care. I drank it slowly, feeling my body weigh pleasantly on itself, like after an effort that had been worth it, Don Aurelio’s semen still running down the inside of my thighs and Don Marcos’s taste still on my tongue.

—I don’t know what to call this —I said, after a long silence.

—Birthday —said Don Marcos, and the three of us laughed.

It was a clean laugh, without awkwardness. The laugh of people who had done something without regretting it.

I dressed slowly. The dress was still on the floor where I’d let it fall and I put it on calmly, unhurried, not even bothering to clean myself first: I wanted to keep feeling them inside me a little longer. Don Aurelio helped me set the straps in place at the back without my asking, and took advantage of it to give me one last kiss on the nape of my neck. That small gesture felt more intimate than anything else that afternoon.

At the door I turned back to the two of them.

—Rodrigo gets back in four days —I said.

Don Aurelio nodded slowly.

—We know.

—Good —I said, and left.

I went up alone in the elevator, with the sensation of having my body fully present in itself: conscious of every muscle, every spot that still burned, the semen still slipping between my legs and staining the inside of my dress. I got under the shower and let the hot water run for a long time without moving, watching everything slide down my thighs and into the drain, touching my swollen cunt and aching ass with the tips of my fingers, almost affectionately.

Four days, I thought.

It wasn’t much time. But it was enough to keep going.