I Went Fishing at the River and Ended Up Spying on My Neighbors

It was Saturday morning, and Matías had already been looking forward to that day for a week. He, Damián, and Facundo had agreed to go fishing at the river, at that quiet stretch twenty minutes from the neighborhood by bicycle, where the trees came together over the water and the dense vegetation provided shade during the hottest hours. They loaded up their fishing rods, hooks, and a bag of cold drinks, and set off pedaling before the city had fully woken up.

The place was exactly what Matías needed: quiet, green, with the constant murmur of water over the stones. The three of them set up their lines and cast their first hooks without much expectation. They weren’t really there to fish. They were there to be somewhere else, far from everything.

While they waited, the conversation drifted toward neighborhood gossip, as it always did. And neighborhood gossip sooner or later led to Don Vicente and Valeria.

Don Vicente was a sixty-five-year-old retired man, widowed for a decade. He lived alone in a large corner house that had once been full of people. He was quiet, a man of strict routines: every morning he walked to the corner store at the same slow pace, tended his garden with almost religious devotion, and never missed Sunday Mass. At first glance, a model neighbor. But in the neighborhood, first impressions never lasted long. Rumor had it that since being widowed, Don Vicente had had discreet encounters with more than one woman. A lady from the block behind swore she had seen him leaving a cheap hotel one rainy afternoon, adjusting his fly. Nobody had any proof, but everyone had an opinion about whether the old man could still get it up.

Valeria was another story. Thirty-three, recently divorced, she had arrived in the neighborhood eight months earlier with two suitcases and a smile that didn’t ask anyone’s permission. She was tall, moved with confidence, and had big tits and a round ass that filled out any clothes beautifully. On Sundays, people saw her crossing the street toward Don Vicente’s house with a bag of pastries under her arm. “She’s alone, and so is he,” some women said. “Sure, and what she gives him is a blowjob,” others replied with a smile that needed no further explanation.

Matías, twenty-two and already partway through an engineering degree, knew them both. He greeted them from a distance, the way you greet neighbors. But for some time he had been looking at them differently—or rather, he had been looking at them and wondering. It was something that happened to him often: he would see two people and wonder how they fucked, what expression she would make when he stuck it in her, what sounds she would make in the places he couldn’t see.

That impulse had a fairly precise date of origin. He was nineteen when he went to a college classmate’s birthday party and, looking for the bathroom in an unfamiliar house, found a half-open door at the end of a hallway. He should have kept walking. Instead, he stopped. Through the gap between the door and the frame, he saw a couple: a man he didn’t recognize and a girl from another class, on the bed, him fucking her from behind, grabbing her hair while he buried his cock all the way inside her. Her tits hung down and she moaned with her mouth open every time he slammed into her. They didn’t hear his footsteps. They had no idea anyone was watching them. Matías stood frozen in that hallway longer than he could ever have justified, his cock hard inside his pants and his heart in his throat. When he finally walked away, his hands were trembling slightly and there was a damp stain in his underwear.

That image stayed with him for weeks. From then on, he knew there was something in him that enjoyed distance, being present without anyone knowing. He wasn’t interested in taking part. He was interested in watching.

***

After an hour in which they barely caught a couple of small catfish that they threw back into the water, Matías announced that he was going to try his luck a little farther upstream, where the river made a bend and the water looked stiller. Damián and Facundo didn’t even look up from their rods.

He walked about two hundred meters along the bank, pushing branches aside and stepping carefully over the damp mud. The river shimmered between the trees. Everything was still.

Then he heard something.

It wasn’t the wind in the leaves or the sound of the water. It was a voice, low and broken. A woman’s hoarse moan mingling with the murmur of the river, something he might have mistaken for anything else if he hadn’t known exactly what it was. Matías stopped. His heart began beating faster, and his cock started swelling in his pants even before he saw anything.

He moved forward, crouching through the vegetation and stepping as slowly as possible, until he found a spot between two bushes from which he could see a small clearing beside the bank. A blanket was spread out over the grass. And on the blanket were the two of them.

Valeria was lying on her back, completely naked, her arms above her head and her legs spread wide. Her heavy, white tits sagged to either side, her hard nipples pointing toward the sky. Between her thighs, her shaved pussy glistened wetly, the lips already swollen and parted. Don Vicente was kneeling between her legs, his shirt open and his pants pulled down to his knees. His cock was out, thick and hard despite his sixty-five years, pointing forward like a rod. He was running his tongue slowly along her neck, moving down toward her tits. When he reached her nipples, he sucked them one by one, nursing hard and making her release a short moan each time.

“Lower,” she murmured without opening her eyes. “Eat my cunt, Vicente. Come on.”

The old man obeyed. He lowered his head, tracing her belly with his lips and tongue, putting his nose into her navel, then continuing downward and settling between her thighs. He spread the lips of her pussy with two fingers and looked at her for a second, like someone preparing to eat something he had been waiting days for. Then he buried his entire mouth in her. From the bushes, Matías watched the old man’s tongue move up and down over her clit, watched him suck it between his lips and let it go with a wet sound, watched him push two fingers into her hole and move them inside while he kept licking. Valeria arched her back and let out a long, high moan. Her hands searched for his hair and pressed his head against her cunt, pushing his face down and forcing him deeper.

“That’s it, you filthy old man,” she moaned. “Suck it all. Put your tongue in, put it in.”

The moans Matías had heard from a distance took shape now, clear and close, mingling with the sound of the water over the stones and the wet slurping of Don Vicente’s mouth working her pussy.

Matías wasn’t breathing.

He stood behind the bushes less than forty feet from them, still holding his fishing rod, his cock begging to come out. Valeria writhed slowly on the blanket, raising her hips toward Don Vicente’s mouth and grinding her cunt against his face. Her tits bounced with every upward thrust. The old man fucked her with his fingers faster and faster, pulling them out glistening with her juices and burying them again up to the knuckles.

“Don’t stop,” she said hoarsely. “That’s it, exactly like that. You’re going to make me come.”

Don Vicente worked without hurrying, with a concentration Matías would never have expected from him. He held Valeria’s hips firmly, his fingers digging into the soft flesh, while she gently pushed upward, finding the rhythm of his tongue. After a few minutes, Valeria released a long, deep moan, her thighs closing around the old man’s head, her entire body tense and vibrating. Matías watched her hips tremble, watched her pussy pulse against Don Vicente’s mouth as she came, and watched her relax on the blanket with a slow exhalation and a silly smile.

Matías silently leaned the fishing rod against the nearest bush. He lowered his hand and loosened his pants. He pulled out his cock, hard and throbbing, wet at the tip. It wasn’t a conscious decision; it was simply what he did.

Don Vicente sat up. He took off his shirt and then pulled down his pants until he was completely naked, his erect cock pointing at Valeria. From below, Valeria looked at him with a calm smile, licked her lips, and sat up a little. She took him by the hand and guided him toward her mouth. Matías watched her open her lips, kiss the tip first, run her tongue along the entire length, and then swallow it in one go, all the way to the root. The old man threw his head back and released a hoarse growl.

“God, Valeria,” he murmured. “What a mouth you have. What a slut’s mouth.”

She didn’t answer because she had his cock down her throat. She sucked him for a long time, both cheeks hollowed, making dirty sounds every time she pulled him out and took him back in. She licked his balls and sucked them one by one. Then she lay back down and spread her legs again.

“Come on, fuck me already. I can’t take it anymore.”

The old man settled between her thighs. He gripped his cock, ran the head over the lips of her pussy a couple of times, wetting it thoroughly, and then pushed slowly. From the bushes, Matías watched the cock enter bit by bit, watched Valeria’s cunt open to receive it, watched her close her eyes and arch her back when she felt it fully inside.

“Slowly at first,” she said.

Don Vicente nodded. He began moving slowly, at an unhurried pace that Valeria met by slightly raising her hips. The moans returned, different now, deeper and lower, accompanied by the wet slap of their bodies. The old man rested his forehead against her neck and breathed heavily, burying his entire cock inside her and pulling it almost all the way out before pushing it back in.

Matías began to masturbate slowly, squeezing gently as he watched. His eyes never left the scene. Valeria’s body beneath the light filtering through the trees, her tits bouncing with every thrust. The way her hands traveled over Don Vicente’s back, descended to the old man’s wrinkled ass, and pulled him toward her, forcing him to bury himself to the hilt. The wet sound of his cock entering and leaving the cunt that was already dripping.

The neighbor who always says hello to me in the street.

The thought appeared and disappeared. In its place remained only the immediate, concrete image: two people fucking on a blanket, the old man on top of the young woman, his wrinkled, thick cock entering her shaved cunt again and again, neither of them suspecting that someone was standing forty feet away with his cock in his hand.

The pace began to quicken. Don Vicente lifted his torso, knelt more firmly on the blanket, grabbed Valeria’s thighs, and spread them wider, leaving her cunt completely exposed. From where he stood, Matías could clearly see the cock entering and leaving, glossy with her juices, the lips of her cunt clinging to it when the old man withdrew and swallowing it again when he pushed forward. Don Vicente began thrusting harder, his balls slapping against Valeria’s ass with every stroke. She dug her heels into the blanket and pushed upward, meeting him halfway with every movement.

“That’s it,” she repeated. “Don’t stop. Break me open, come on.”

“Fuck, you’re tight today,” the old man grunted. “You’re going to make me come right away.”

“Come inside me, old man. Come on, fill me up.”

Don Vicente lowered himself over her again, lifted one of her legs onto his shoulder, and began fucking her from the side with hard, deep thrusts. Valeria’s moans grew louder, almost short screams escaping every time his cock struck the bottom. The old man breathed through clenched teeth, his face red with effort and concentration, his ass contracting with every stroke. Matías sped up his hand without taking his eyes off them, following their rhythm. He felt heat building in his abdomen, his balls tightening, his breathing becoming harder and harder to control. His cock throbbed in his hand, wetting his fingers with the fluid spilling from its tip.

Valeria came first. She announced it with a series of short, broken moans, her body rigid and her fingers digging into Don Vicente’s shoulders. Matías watched her cunt contract around the old man’s cock, watched her legs tremble. The old man kept moving for a few more seconds, faster and faster, then buried his cock to the hilt and stopped with a muffled grunt. Matías knew he was coming inside her. He watched the old man’s ass contract in short spasms as Valeria squeezed him against her with both legs, whispering in his ear not to pull out yet.

Matías came almost at the same moment, biting his lip to keep from making a sound. Jets of semen burst out of him, the first long and the following ones shorter, falling onto the leaves and dirt at his feet. The orgasm hit him with an intensity that took him by surprise, and he had to brace one hand against the bush so he wouldn’t lose his balance, his cock still pulsing and his breathing ragged.

The two lovers lay still for a moment, catching their breath. Don Vicente pulled out slowly, and Matías watched a white thread slide down Valeria’s thigh. She laughed softly at something Matías couldn’t hear and ran a finger over her cunt, gathering the semen and bringing it to her mouth. Don Vicente whispered something in her ear. She nodded. They got up calmly, dressed without hurrying, gathered the blanket, and walked away along the bank in the opposite direction, arm in arm, as if they were simply two people who had gone out for a walk.

Matías stayed among the bushes until he lost sight of them. He pulled his clothes back over his still half-hard, sticky cock, retrieved his fishing rod, and walked slowly back toward where his friends were waiting.

***

The rest of the afternoon passed normally for Damián and Facundo. Conversation, a fish or two that came to nothing, the heat of the late hours. For Matías, it was a succession of moments existing alongside something else, a scene replaying in his head with ever-increasing detail.

That night, in his room, it took him a long time to fall asleep. He didn’t need to close his eyes to see the image: Valeria on the blanket with her legs spread, Don Vicente eating her cunt, then fucking her from the side until he came inside her. The sound of the river beneath their moans. The light filtering through the trees and dappling both their skin.

He pulled down his underwear and grabbed his cock. At first he masturbated slowly, going over every detail: the old man’s tongue between the lips of her cunt, the two fingers entering up to the knuckles, Valeria sucking him down to the throat, the wrinkled cock entering the shaved cunt. He came over his own belly, hot and abundant. Ten minutes later, he was hard again. He masturbated a second time, harder now, imagining that he was the one between Valeria’s thighs, that it was his cock making her moan like that, that it was inside him where she came. But the fantasy quickly returned to the reality of what he had seen: the distance, the bushes, being the only one who knew. And that was the version that made him come hardest. When he finally fell asleep, his hand still sticky, it was with the thought that he would return to the river.

***

He went back two days later, alone, using his fishing rod as an excuse. The stretch of river was empty when he arrived. He sat on the bank and waited for a while without much hope, listening to the water and the birds in the trees.

But after half an hour, he heard footsteps on the dry earth. He looked between the trees and saw them arrive: Valeria in front, a blanket under her arm; Don Vicente behind her, carrying a small bag. They settled in the same clearing as before, with the natural ease of people repeating something they already knew how to do.

This time Matías was better positioned. He had found a spot among the vegetation from which he could see the clearing unobstructed and without any risk of being discovered. His cock was already out before they began, squeezed in his hand as he waited. He stayed still while they settled in, controlling his breathing.

Valeria wasted no time. She knelt in front of Don Vicente while he was still standing, yanked his pants down to his ankles, and pulled out his already half-hard cock with both hands. She looked up at him for a moment, her eyes fixed on the old man’s, then lowered her head and swallowed him whole. Don Vicente grunted and rested a hand on her hair without forcing anything, letting her work. Valeria sucked with deliberate slowness, pulling him almost all the way out to lick the tip, then swallowing him again to the root while squeezing his balls with her other hand. From the bushes, Matías watched her lips shine with saliva, watched a thread run down her chin, watched the old man close his eyes and breathe with his mouth open.

“Put it all in, baby,” Don Vicente grunted. “That’s it, down your throat.”

Valeria obeyed. She shoved him in to the base and held him there, making muffled noises, until the old man let go of her hair. She pulled away with a short cough and a smile, her lips red and swollen, a thread of saliva connecting her mouth to the tip of his cock. She took him back into her mouth, then stood, turned around, and bent over the blanket, supported on her hands and knees, her round ass raised and her cunt already wet between her legs.

“Come on, put it in from behind. The way I like it.”

Don Vicente knelt behind her, gripped his cock, rubbed it a couple of times between the lips of her cunt, and then pushed. From his hiding place, Matías watched the cock plunge inside with one thrust, watched Valeria arch her back and moan loudly, watched the old man grab her hips with both hands and begin fucking her with hard strokes, his balls striking her clit with every thrust. Valeria’s tits swung beneath her torso, her hard nipples brushing the blanket. Her white ass reddened every time the old man’s hips slammed into it.

“Harder, old man,” she panted. “Harder, fuck me properly, don’t hold anything back.”

The old man’s moans sounded different in that position, deeper and more restrained, as if he were keeping them to himself. Between thrusts, he gave her ass a sharp slap that echoed through the clearing. Valeria lowered her head until her forehead rested on the blanket and answered by pushing backward, meeting him and asking for more.

Matías settled among the bushes and repeated the ritual from the other time, slowly at first and then speeding up, following the rhythm of what he was watching. There was something about that repetition that satisfied him in a particular way: not only the immediate pleasure, but the confirmation that the secret was still his. Nobody in the neighborhood knew what he knew. Nobody in the neighborhood had seen Valeria’s ass reddened by Don Vicente’s slaps, her cunt dripping over the old man’s thighs, his wrinkled cock entering and leaving all the way to the hilt.

This time the old man came first. He pulled out with a grunt at the last moment and unloaded across her back and ass, two, three, four white spurts that gleamed for Matías from his hiding place. Valeria stayed still and took them, breathing heavily, then turned around and slipped her fingers into her cunt while the old man ran the tip of his cock along her lips. She came with his fingers inside her, biting her free hand so she wouldn’t scream too loudly, the old man’s semen still running down her hip.

Matías came at the same time as her, silently, leaning against the trunk. He bit his lip so hard that he tasted iron in his mouth.

They finished as they had the first time, in silence, without suspecting they had a witness. Valeria wiped herself with the blanket, the old man handed her a cloth from his bag, and they left hand in hand among the trees.

Matías stayed still for a while after they left, his breathing still ragged and his cock still sticky in his hand, listening to their footsteps recede until the river was once again the only sound. Then he picked up his rod and left.

On the way back, he understood something he had known deep down all along: he wasn’t going to stop coming back. Not because he needed to see something different, but because what he had already seen lived inside him in a way he didn’t want to lose. The distance, the silence, being the only witness to something no one else would ever see. That was what he was after. Not participation, not contact. The silent possession of a scene that belonged to no one else.

He thought about Don Vicente and Valeria, about the way they walked away without looking back. They knew nothing about him. And he knew everything about them. He knew how she moaned when he ate her cunt. He knew how he grunted when he came. He knew the sound of the old man’s hand against her ass.

That, for some reason he didn’t bother analyzing too closely, was exactly enough.