From the Attic, Without Them Knowing

Ricardo had arrived at the summer house intending to rest. Nothing more. That year, he was dragging along months of accumulated work, and the family house in the mountains was the only place where he managed to sleep more than five hours straight.

The attic had been his favorite corner since childhood. Sloping roof, the smell of old wood, a small window that looked directly onto the neighbors’ lot. He went up there to read, to do nothing in particular. It was a space the rest of the family completely ignored, which made it perfect.

That morning, the heat woke him before nine. There was no air conditioning in the attic, only the bladed fan that hummed without much conviction. He got up, leaned toward the window to see how the day was breaking, and then he saw her.

She was sitting at the edge of the pool.

She wore a tight black one-piece swimsuit that clung to her body as if she had been born wearing it. She was of average height, with short hair that barely brushed her cheeks, and the kind of figure Ricardo took a couple of seconds to stop staring at. Not because she was extraordinary in any particular way, but because there was something in her posture, in the way she let her feet dangle in the water and gazed at the horizon without hurry, that made him stand still.

Who are these neighbors?

The house next door had been empty for the past two seasons. Someone must have rented it for the summer. Ricardo hadn’t paid attention when his mother mentioned it the week before.

The woman slowly splashed her feet, drawing little waves across the still surface. The water was that artificial blue of painted-plastic pools, luminous beneath the August sun. She didn’t seem to be in a hurry. She was simply there, letting the morning warm her.

Ricardo went to get coffee. When he came back, she was still in the same spot.

He sat down on the attic floor, leaned his back against the wall, and drank slowly, watching over the edge of the window. He hadn’t meant to spy. Or perhaps he had, but at that moment he wasn’t questioning it too much.

Then he arrived.

***

He was a man of about forty, dark-haired, bare-chested, with a towel wrapped around his waist. He approached from the house’s glass door, barefoot on the terracotta tiles that must already have been scorching at that hour. He said nothing. He sat beside her at the edge of the pool, so close that their shoulders touched.

She turned her head and smiled.

It was a smile Ricardo couldn’t have described exactly, but understood immediately. It wasn’t a greeting between two acquaintances. It was something older, more conspiratorial. It was the smile of a woman who knows that in a minute she’s going to have a cock in her mouth and wants it.

The man ran his hand through her hair. A slow, almost absentminded gesture, like someone caressing without thinking. She tilted her head toward that side for a moment, closing her eyes.

Ricardo stopped breathing.

The man’s hand moved down her neck, continued over her shoulder, and reached the edge of the swimsuit. Without any brusqueness, with a calm that was almost more erotic than any quick movement, he slipped his fingers inside the cup of her bra and pulled it down with one short, firm tug.

Her tit came out into the open. Round, white against the more tanned skin of her cleavage and shoulders, with a dark, thick nipple already hard before he touched it. Ricardo saw it tremble faintly when the hot air brushed it, and thought he saw her swallow too.

Look away, Ricardo told himself. Right now.

He didn’t.

The man lowered his head and caught the nipple between his lips. He didn’t pounce on her. He sucked it slowly, drawing it out and taking it back into his mouth with deliberate patience, tugging it with his teeth until he stretched it, then releasing it wet and glistening in the sun. Afterward he licked it in circles with the tip of his tongue, then sucked it deeply again, taking half her tit into his mouth. The woman arched her back and grabbed the nape of his neck to pull him closer.

“Suck it like that,” Ricardo heard her say, or thought he heard her say. “No hurry, darling. No hurry.”

The man carefully bit her nipple and she let out a short moan, deeper than Ricardo would have expected from such a small mouth. The guy’s other hand moved down her belly, slipped beneath the swimsuit, and disappeared between her legs. She opened her thighs without thinking, making room for him, and Ricardo saw the man’s arm begin moving in a slow back-and-forth, his wrist buried deep inside the black fabric.

“You’re already soaking wet,” the man said, pulling his mouth away from her tit for a second. “Whore.”

“Shut up and keep going,” she replied, with a smile that lodged Ricardo’s heart in his throat.

Or perhaps he imagined it. He was no longer entirely sure of the difference.

The August sun fell mercilessly over the lot. The light was so intense that the scene seemed unreal, as if viewed through a filter sharpening every detail. The woman’s short hair shone. Sweat gleamed on the man’s back. Without realizing it, Ricardo had already grabbed his cock through his shorts.

She opened her brown eyes, looked toward the water, and smiled again. Then, with a movement so natural that it took Ricardo a second to process what he was seeing, she pulled the bottom of her swimsuit aside.

***

Her cunt was exposed, dark and abundant hair only lightly trimmed, her lips swollen and glistening with moisture. And then, with the same calm she had shown from the beginning, she let a thread of urine flow between her thighs.

A thin arc, golden in the sunlight, that fell into the pool in a small parabola.

Ricardo opened his mouth.

It wasn’t something he had seen before in circumstances like those. Never in person, at least. And yet, something inside him didn’t look away. Something inside him watched the amber arc with an attention that was neither exactly revulsion nor the neutral curiosity of someone observing without becoming involved.

The man didn’t look away either. On the contrary. He leaned forward and placed his hand beneath the stream of urine, letting it fall onto his palm. Open, without hesitation. Then he brought his wet hand to the mouth of her own cunt and smeared her lips and clitoris with her own piss, spreading his two fingers into a V and rubbing it over her.

She laughed.

It was a soft, slightly husky laugh that broke the silence of the morning like a stone in water. She watched him as he raised his hand again and looked at it, then took him by the wrist and guided those fingers toward her own sex.

He needed no further instructions.

He pushed two fingers inside her at once, sinking them to the knuckles with the same deliberate slowness he had used for everything. She held her breath for a moment. Then she exhaled slowly, leaning back with her hands on the edge of the pool, her tit in the sun and her legs spread wide, completely exposed in that lot, which should have seemed far too visible for anything that was happening.

The man’s fingers began fucking her in earnest. Ricardo could see the wet back-and-forth, the way they came out glistening and sank back in to the very end, making her cunt splash softly in addition to the water. The guy’s thumb settled on her clitoris and began rubbing tight circles without stopping the pumping of his other two fingers.

“Put them all the way in,” she panted. “Spread me open, you bastard. Make it show.”

A third finger went in. The woman let out a whimper and spread her knees farther apart. Ricardo saw her cunt opening around the man’s hand, pink and wet, with a thick strand of discharge hanging from her lower lip.

But she didn’t seem to care about being seen.

Or perhaps she knew.

She doesn’t know, Ricardo told himself. She can’t know.

And yet, at some point between that thought and the next, the woman turned her head toward the attic. Not exactly toward the window. Toward the roof. Toward the general direction of the house next door.

And smiled.

***

Ricardo instinctively leaned backward, spilling the rest of his coffee onto his knee. The window’s edge hid him sufficiently. Or so he wanted to believe.

When he cautiously leaned out again, the scene had continued without pause.

She had a hand inside the man’s robe. She sought him without opening it all the way, slipping it directly beneath the fabric, and Ricardo only had to see the way her wrist moved to know exactly what she was doing. She was jerking him off, squeezing his cock in her fist, up and down, with a rhythm that was gathering speed.

A second later, with a short tug, she opened his robe all the way. His cock emerged, thick and hard, pointing skyward, the swollen, gleaming head exposed. Ricardo swallowed. The woman leaned to one side without taking her fingers out of the man’s cunt, bent down, and took him into her mouth in a single motion, halfway in.

“Fuck,” Ricardo murmured, unaware that he was speaking aloud.

She sucked him with her whole mouth, her cheeks hollowing, pulling him all the way out to spit a long string of saliva over him and then swallow him back down to the root. The guy’s other hand grabbed her short hair and began setting the pace, pushing her head downward. She answered with a guttural growl that Ricardo, this time, did hear from the window.

His cock came out glistening between her lips each time, then disappeared again between those lips Ricardo had seen smiling a little earlier. The man’s fingers hadn’t stopped moving inside the woman’s cunt, and now they pumped in the same rhythm with which she sucked him.

She pulled away suddenly, mouth open and chin covered in spit, panting.

“Put it in me,” she said, voice broken. “Here, you bastard. Now.”

She turned around on the pool’s edge, got down on all fours with her ass toward the man and Ricardo’s window, and pulled the swimsuit strap aside herself, exposing her cunt and asshole. The man didn’t lose a second. He positioned himself behind her, gripped his cock at the base, and aimed it at her entrance. He pushed it in slowly at first, sinking the head, and then, after one sharp thrust, drove it all the way inside.

The woman screamed, or made something like a muffled scream. Ricardo heard it rebound off the walls.

“Yes,” she moaned. “Fuck me like that. Break me.”

The man grabbed her hips and began thrusting into her. Ricardo watched the guy’s thighs slap against her ass, watched her flesh tremble with every blow, watched his cock emerge gleaming with fluid and sink back in to the balls. The sound of skin against skin arrived with a slight delay, like rhythmic applause beneath the attic fan’s hum.

The fan head kept turning above Ricardo. His own was turning faster.

The movements below grew slower. Not calmer, but more deliberate. As when something reaches its peak and there is no reason to hurry it. The man pulled all the way out until only the head was halfway outside, then shoved it all back in with one long thrust, watching his glistening cock enter and leave her cunt.

Then he pulled out completely. He rubbed it between her cheeks, wet as it was, and aimed it at her asshole. She let her head fall onto her arms.

“Yes,” she said. “There too. There too, you son of a bitch.”

The cock slowly forced its way in, with difficulty, until it sank all the way inside. Ricardo saw her ass close around the base, saw the man remain still for a second with his eyes half-closed, and saw him begin moving again, this time with shorter, more restrained thrusts, while he slipped two fingers into her cunt from below.

She let out a sound Ricardo didn’t quite hear but saw in the opening of her mouth, in the way she squeezed her eyes shut and slightly bent her elbows against the hot stone edge.

The man’s fingers kept moving inside her cunt while his cock continued fucking her ass. She slipped one hand between her legs and began rubbing her clitoris with two lightning-fast fingers, moaning loudly, no longer caring about the lot, the neighborhood, or the man in the attic watching her with his cock in his hand over his shorts.

“I’m coming,” Ricardo heard her say. “I’m coming, fuck, don’t stop.”

The woman’s whole body convulsed. She trembled first in her legs, then in her back, and finally went taut as a bow, mouth open and soundless. The man held her by the hips, giving two, three, four more thrusts, and Ricardo saw his cock swell and the guy come inside her ass, his face pressed against her short hair, biting her shoulder hard.

For a long, motionless instant, neither of them spoke.

The pool water reflected the sun in irregular flashes. A bird sang in the pine at the back of the lot. The bladed fan continued humming above Ricardo’s head.

Then, with an exhalation he almost thought he could feel from up there, she let her shoulders drop. The man slowly withdrew, carefully, and Ricardo saw a thick strand of semen slide from her ass down her thigh before falling onto the edge of the pool. She turned around on the spot, still on all fours, and without saying anything grabbed his wet cock and cleaned it with her mouth, licking it from head to base, swallowing what remained inside. They looked at each other.

She said something Ricardo couldn’t read on her lips. He answered with a brief smile and shook his hand in the pool water, washing it. Then he pulled the cup of her swimsuit back into place, adjusted the bottom strap between her buttocks, and gave her a short smack on the ass, with the same calm with which he had opened her up twenty minutes earlier.

They stood up.

They went into the house without looking at each other again, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

***

Ricardo remained on the attic floor for a while without moving. The empty cup in his hand. The sun was already climbing above the roof, turning the space beneath the wood into something like an oven.

He went downstairs to shower. He ate breakfast late. He spent the whole morning with the book open on the little terrace table without reading a single page.

That night, during dinner, he heard voices in the neighboring lot. Laughter, the sound of chairs scraping across the stone. A couple on their summer vacation.

He didn’t go look.

But the following morning, before nine, he went up to the attic with freshly made coffee and sat in the same corner as always, his back against the wall and his view just level with the bottom edge of the window.

The lot was empty.

The pool, still.

He waited.