From the Attic, Without Them Knowing

Ricardo had arrived at the summer house intending to rest. Nothing more. That year he’d been carrying 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 he was a child. Slanted ceiling, the smell of old wood, a small window that looked directly onto the neighbors’ plot. 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 fan with its spinning blades, humming with little conviction. He got up, leaned out the window to see how the day was breaking, and then he saw her.

She was sitting on the edge of the pool.

She wore a black one-piece swimsuit, tight, clinging to her body as if she’d been born with it on. She was of average height, with short hair brushing her cheeks, and the kind of figure Ricardo took a couple of seconds to stop staring at. Not because it 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 stared unhurriedly at the horizon, that made him go still.

Who are these neighbors?

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

The woman was dangling her feet slowly, drawing little waves across the still surface. The water was that artificial blue plastic pools have, bright under the August sun. She didn’t seem to be in any hurry. She was just there, letting the morning warm her.

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

He sat on the attic floor, leaned his back against the wall, and drank slowly, looking over the window ledge. It wasn’t his intention to spy. Or maybe it was, but at that moment he didn’t question 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 came over 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 on the edge of the pool, so close 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 complicit. It was the smile of a woman who knows that in a minute she’s going to have a cock in her mouth and she wants it.

The man ran a hand through her hair. A slow, almost absent-minded gesture, like someone caressing without thinking. She tilted her head that way for an instant, closing her eyes.

Ricardo stopped breathing.

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

The breast came out into the air. Round, pale against the tanner tone of her cleavage and shoulders, with a dark, thick nipple already hard before he even touched it. Ricardo saw it tremble slightly as the hot air brushed it, and he thought he saw her swallow, too.

Look away, Ricardo told himself. Right now.

He didn’t.

The man bent his head and caught the nipple between his lips. He didn’t lunge at her. He sucked it slowly, drawing it in and out of his mouth with deliberate patience, tugging it with his teeth until it stretched, then releasing it wet and glossy under the sun. Then he licked it in circles with the tip of his tongue, and sucked it deep again, taking half the breast into his mouth. The woman arched her back and grabbed the nape of his neck to press him closer.

—Suck me like that —Ricardo heard her say, or thought he heard her say—. Slowly, baby. Slowly.

The man bit her nipple carefully and she let out a short moan, deeper than Ricardo would have expected from such a small mouth. The other hand moved down over her stomach, 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 start to move in a slow rocking motion, his wrist buried deep in the black fabric.

—You’re soaked already —the man said, lifting his mouth from her breast for a second—. Dirty girl.

—Shut up and keep going —she replied, with a smile that made Ricardo’s heart climb into his throat.

Or maybe he imagined it. He wasn’t very sure of the difference anymore.

The August sun fell mercilessly over the plot. The light was so intense the scene had something unreal about it, as if seen through a filter that sharpened every detail. The woman’s short hair gleamed. The man’s back shone with sweat. Ricardo, without noticing, had already squeezed his cock over his shorts.

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

***

The cunt was bared, the dark, abundant hair barely trimmed, the lips swollen and shining with wetness. And then, with the same calm she’d had since the beginning, she let a thin stream of urine spill between her thighs.

A fine arc, golden under the sunlight, which fell into the pool water drawing a small parabola.

Ricardo opened his mouth.

It wasn’t something he’d ever seen before in circumstances like those. Not in person, at least. And yet something in him didn’t look away. Something in him watched the amber arc with an attention that was neither exactly revulsion nor the neutral curiosity of someone watching without getting involved.

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

She laughed.

It was a soft, slightly hoarse laugh that broke the morning silence like a stone dropped in water. She looked at him while he lifted his hand again and watched her, and then she took his wrist and guided those fingers toward her own sex.

He didn’t need any more instructions.

He slid in two fingers at once, sinking them to the knuckles with the same deliberate slowness with which he had done everything. She held her breath for an instant. Then she exhaled slowly, leaning back with her hands on the pool edge, one breast in the sun and her legs spread wide, completely exposed on that plot that should have felt too visible for any of what was happening.

The man’s fingers started fucking her in earnest. Ricardo could see the wet back-and-forth, the way they came out gleaming and sank back in to the hilt, pulling a little splash from her cunt that joined the water’s. The man’s thumb settled over her clit and began to circle in tight little motions, never stopping the pumping with the other two fingers.

—Put them all the way in —she panted—. Open me up, bastard. Make it show.

A third finger went in. The woman let out a groan and spread her knees wider. Ricardo saw her cunt opening around the man’s hand, pink and wet, with a thick thread of arousal hanging from the lower lip.

But she didn’t seem to care if they were seen.

Or maybe she knew it.

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

And yet, somewhere 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 flinched back instinctively, spilling the rest of the coffee onto his knee. The window ledge hid him well enough. Or that’s what he wanted to believe.

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

She had her hand inside the man’s robe. She found him without fully opening it, slipping her hand directly under the fabric, and it was enough for Ricardo to see how her wrist moved to know exactly what she was doing. She was jerking off his cock, gripping it in her fist, up and down, at a rhythm that was picking up speed.

A second later, with a short yank, she pulled the robe open all the way. The cock came out into the air, thick, hard, pointing at the sky, with the glans swollen and shiny. Ricardo swallowed. The woman leaned to one side without taking her fingers out of the man’s cunt, crouched down, and took it into her mouth in one go, halfway down.

—Fuck —Ricardo muttered, not realizing he was speaking aloud.

She sucked it with her whole mouth, cheeks hollowed, pulling it out completely to spit a long thread of saliva over it and swallow it back to the base. The man’s other hand grabbed her short hair and started setting the rhythm, pushing her head down. She answered with a guttural sound Ricardo, this time, did hear from the window.

The cock came shining between her lips each time, and disappeared again between those lips Ricardo had seen smiling a while earlier. The man’s fingers had not stopped moving inside the woman’s cunt, and now he pumped at the same rhythm she was taking his dick.

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

—Fuck me —she said, voice broken—. Here, bastard. Now.

She turned around on the pool edge, got on all fours with her ass toward the man and toward Ricardo’s window, and used her own fingers to pull aside the swimsuit strap, leaving her cunt and asshole in view. The man didn’t waste a second. He positioned himself behind her, grabbed his cock by the base, and aimed at the entrance. He pushed in slowly at first, sinking in the glans, and then with one hard thrust drove it in all the way.

The woman screamed, or let out something like a stifled scream. Ricardo heard it bounce off the walls.

—Like that —she moaned—. Fuck me like that. Break me.

The man grabbed her by the hips and started thrusting into her. Ricardo could see the man’s thighs slapping against her ass, the flesh trembling with each удар, the cock coming out shiny with slick and sinking back in to the balls. The sound of skin against skin reached him with a slight delay, like rhythmic clapping under the buzzing of the attic fan.

The fan blade still spun above Ricardo’s head. His own head was spinning faster.

The movements below grew slower. Not calmer, but more deliberate. Like when something reaches its peak and there is no reason to rush it. The man pulled out all the way until the glans was half out, and shoved it back in with one long push, watching his shiny cock enter and leave her cunt.

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

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

The cock worked its way in slowly, with difficulty, until it sank in all the way. Ricardo saw her ass closing around the base, the man going still for a second with his eyes half-lidded, and then starting to move again, this time shorter, more contained, while he slipped two fingers up into her cunt from below.

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

The man’s fingers kept moving inside her cunt while his cock kept fucking her in the ass. She slipped one hand between her legs and started rubbing her clit with two lightning-fast fingers, moaning loudly, not caring anymore about the plot or the neighbors 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 body shook all over. She trembled first in her legs, then in her back, and finally held rigid like a bow, mouth open and silent. The man held her by the hips, giving two, three, four more thrusts, and Ricardo saw his cock swell and the man come inside her ass with his face pressed against her short hair, biting her shoulder hard.

For one long, still moment, neither of them spoke.

The pool water reflected the sun in broken flashes. Somewhere a bird sang in the pine at the back of the plot. The blade fan kept humming above Ricardo’s head.

Then, with an exhale he almost thought he could feel from up there, she let her shoulders drop. The man withdrew slowly, carefully, and Ricardo saw a thick thread of semen slide from her ass down her thigh and fall onto the pool edge. She turned in place, still on all fours, and without saying a word grabbed his wet cock and cleaned it with her mouth, licking it all the way from the glans to the base, swallowing what was left inside. They looked at each other.

She said something Ricardo couldn’t read on her lips. He answered with a short smile and shook his hand in the pool water, washing it. Then he pulled her top cup back into place, settled the strap of the bottoms between her buttocks, and gave her ass a quick slap, with the same calm with which he’d opened her 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 stayed on the attic floor for a while without moving. The empty cup in his hand. The sun 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 entire morning with the book open on the little terrace table, not reading a single page.

That night, during dinner, he heard voices in the neighboring plot. Laughter, the sound of chairs scraping over stone. A couple on their summer holiday.

He didn’t go to look.

But the next morning, before nine, he went up to the attic with freshly made coffee and sat in the same old corner, his back against the wall and his eyes level with the window ledge.

The plot was empty.

The pool, still.

He waited.