My Tenant and the Balcony That Looked onto Her Bed

Before anything else, let me introduce myself: everyone calls me Darío, though in truth it’s just a nickname I’ve carried since my teens. I’m not an especially attractive man; I stand out in some things and fall short in others. I like to think I’m handy, without being one of those people who hand out compliments at every step. I’ve always had female friends, some closer than others, and I’ve never found it hard to get along with women. I don’t fall out with many people.

A few years ago, when my parents retired and moved to the village, to the old family house, they gave me the city apartment. My brothers lived far away and had already received their help getting established, so it seemed fair: I worked here and still didn’t have a stable job. With three bedrooms all to myself, I decided to rent out two of them to bring in extra income and be a bit more comfortable.

In time I grew tired of that arrangement. With what I’d saved, I found myself a smaller flat and put my parents’ place up for full rental. Fewer people coming and going, fewer strangers, and above all, more freedom for my hobbies without having the landlord sleeping in the room next door. I ended up focusing the rental on students, with short-term contracts that lasted as long as their course did.

As for me, I moved into a small duplex penthouse. With the rental income and my occasional jobs I wasn’t in hardship, and I could afford the mortgage. But the best thing about living alone was absolute freedom. I’d grown used to a fairly open approach to sex and relationships, and it was a privilege I enjoyed enormously. Fucking when I wanted, with whoever I wanted, without having to explain myself to anyone.

The flat had two medium-sized bedrooms, each with its own bathroom, and a kitchen joined to a living room. The second bedroom was upstairs, with a balcony overlooking the city. And here’s the detail that changed everything: from that balcony, through a large window, you could see the bed in the downstairs room. I lived peacefully, did as I pleased, and was answerable to no one. That was my routine until it stopped being so.

One Wednesday, when I was leaving work, I got a message from Marta, my longest-standing tenant, who occupied the largest room in the flat I still had rented out. She asked me to call her. It didn’t sound urgent or like a problem with the house, so I took it calmly and decided I’d phone her when I got home.

“Hi, Marta, how’s everything? Tell me, what did you want to talk to me about?” I asked as I put my keys down by the entrance.

“Hi, everything’s fine. I wanted to know if you know anyone renting out a room or a small flat. A girl from my hometown is coming to the city to do a course. She had everything arranged, but the people from the flat where she was going to stay have backed out. She starts in a few days and now she’s got nothing.”

“Well, I honestly have no idea. I can ask around, but right now nothing comes to mind. How long would it be for?”

“I think three months, maybe a bit more, I’m not sure. I thought maybe for the first few days she could stay in my room, like my sister does when she comes. That would give her time to find something.”

“Sure, as always. I don’t mind her staying with you for a few days. But long term we’d have to see what your flatmates think, in case one of them gets it into their head that they’ve got free rein to bring people over.”

I didn’t have much room to help, but I still asked a couple of people I knew. Nobody had a room available at such short notice. And then I remembered the downstairs bedroom in the penthouse, the one I barely used except when one of my brothers came to visit, which happened very rarely. I wasn’t thrilled at the idea of losing privacy, but I hadn’t had a fuck in a while and it didn’t seem likely that was going to change any time soon.

On Sunday afternoon I called Marta.

“Hi, Darío, how are you?” she answered.

“Look, I don’t know whether your friend has found anything. I’ve asked around and nobody has anything free. But I’ve been thinking I’ve got the downstairs room empty. If she wants it, I’ll let it go for four hundred and fifty or five hundred. She’d have her own bathroom and a couple of shelves in the fridge. The only problem is that I live far from the center, I don’t know where the course is, but it might be a long commute for her.”

“Well, I know she still hasn’t signed anything. If she doesn’t find something, she says she’ll put the course off. But with your option, maybe she’ll take it.”

“When does she arrive? She can stay with you for a few days, come see the room, and decide.”

“Okay, I’ll tell her. She comes this Wednesday. We could stop by on Friday afternoon and she can see it. Oh, and don’t worry: she’s my sister’s friend from way back, she’s not going to give you any trouble.”

“If you vouch for her, that’s enough for me. I’ll see you Friday around seven, if that works for you. You remember the address, right?”

“Yes, we’ll be there. Bye.”

***

The week went by quietly. On Thursday I aired out the room, changed the sheets, and checked that the bathroom was working properly. On Friday, a little after seven, the two girls rang the intercom.

“Hi, girls, come in. How’s everything?” I said, opening the door.

“Hi, Darío. Fine, and you? Look, this is Noelia, my friend. Sorry we’re late, I got tangled up with the metro line.”

“No problem. Hi, Noelia, nice to meet you. Would you like something to drink? I’ll show you the room and you can tell me.”

“Thanks, a glass of water would be great,” Noelia replied with a shy smile.

I put her at about twenty-three, a master’s student, that age when you’re fully an adult but still keep a certain freshness. She had small, firm tits that showed beneath her T-shirt, a round, perky ass stuffed into tight jeans, and full lips that I kept looking at longer than I should have. I showed them the living room, the kitchen, the dining area. Marta said the flat was bigger than it looked from the outside. Noelia nodded, taking everything in with curiosity.

“Here’s the room that would be yours,” I said. “There’s space for a desk to study, you’ve got a good wardrobe, and the bathroom would be just for you.”

“It’s really nice, and for that price you should think about it,” Marta insisted, “even if it is a bit far from the academy.”

“Yeah, I like it. Though I don’t know… can I take some photos? To send them to my mother and ask her opinion,” Noelia asked.

“Of course, no problem.”

I left the room and Marta came after me.

“She seems like a good girl,” I said quietly.

“She is. She’s twenty-three, though she always looks younger. She’s very responsible, she won’t give you any trouble.”

Noelia came out about ten minutes later, after talking to her mother.

“I think I’ll take it. It’s far, but it’s an hour’s journey and the price makes up for it.”

“Marta vouches for you, so I’ll let it go for four fifty. You pay when you move in and again the following month. I won’t do a long contract, so if you find something better closer by, you can leave without any hassle.”

“Perfect. I could bring my things tomorrow. I start on Monday and I’d rather get used to the routine from the beginning.”

***

On Saturday afternoon Noelia and Marta came back loaded with boxes. While she was settling in, we went over schedules and a couple of basic rules about the kitchen, washing machine, and fridge. Marta left and Noelia went on putting her things away. On Sunday we chatted for a while and I pointed out where to shop, have a drink, or go running if she felt like it.

The first two weeks passed with almost boring calm. We barely crossed paths: a while in the afternoons, the occasional quick dinner. I got up early and left for work soon after; when I came back, she was usually studying in the living room and I preferred not to bother her. All very proper, all very by the book. But that was about to change.

I have a habit of going out onto the balcony to get some air before bed. It relaxes me, helps me switch off and fall asleep. And that was how, without looking for it, I discovered the other side of my tenant. As I’ve already said, from the balcony you can see the bed in the downstairs room. That night it was lit only by the screen of a laptop, with some clothes scattered over the duvet. Noelia came in, let herself drop onto the mattress, and, almost before I realized it, I saw that she was completely naked.

Fuck me, look at the errand girl. That was what I thought as I hesitated between keeping on looking and looking away as quickly as possible.

I didn’t look away. Not a chance. From the angle of the balcony I could see her all at once: the small tits topped by two dark, hard nipples, the flat stomach, and that triangle of trimmed hair between her thighs that opened whenever she changed position. She picked up her phone and started taking photos, biting her lip, running her free hand over her body. She pinched her nipples until they stood rigid, licked her fingers and smeared them with spit, then slowly slid her hand down her stomach until she planted her open palm on her cunt. She suddenly spread her legs, bent one knee, and snapped another photo from above, showing herself with her pussy open to the camera. You could clearly see how glossy her lips were from how wet she was.

Meanwhile, my pajama bottoms were starting to tighten uncomfortably. My cock was hard as a rock, pressing against the fabric. I didn’t know whether she was taking the photos for fun or to send them to some boyfriend back in her village, and I honestly didn’t give a fuck: all I wanted was to keep watching.

I pulled my pants and briefs down to my ankles. My cock sprang free, stiff against my stomach, the tip already beaded with fluid. I decided that, since the show was free, I’d make the most of it. It was unlikely she could see me from that angle in the dark of my balcony, so I grabbed my cock with my hand and started stroking it slowly, not taking my eyes off her for a second.

Noelia opened the laptop fully, which I appreciated because the light increased and I could see her better. She typed something and, before long, a series of images began flashing on the screen. I couldn’t make them out, but from the way her face tightened and the way she licked her lips, there was no doubt in my mind it was good porn. She settled on her back, bent her knees, and spread her legs wide, unknowingly offering me a privileged view of her entire cunt. She brought two fingers to her mouth, sucked them slowly, then took them straight down to her clit. She began rubbing in circles, first slowly, then faster and faster, while her other hand moved to her tits and pinched her nipples hard.

Her mouth fell open in a look of contained pleasure. The fingers of her right hand slid a little lower and sank into her cunt. One, two fingers, in and out with a rhythm growing harsher by the second. She pulled them out shining with slick, brought them to her mouth and sucked them before driving them back inside. The bed must have been a mess; from where I stood you could hear a soft sloshing sound every time she shoved her fingers in up to the knuckles.

I jerked off to her rhythm, tightening my fist harder when she sped up, easing off when she lingered on her clit. I had to bite my lip not to groan, and I held my breath so the mist wouldn’t fog the window. My cock was throbbing and I could feel my balls clamping tight against my body, ready to explode.

Noelia lifted her hips off the mattress, arched her back, and dug her heels into the duvet. Now she was fucking herself with three fingers, pounding her cunt at a brutal pace, and with the thumb of the same hand she was slapping her clit. Her mouth opened all the way, her head fell back, and her whole body tightened. I could see her thighs straining, her tits bouncing with each jolt, and that dripping cunt sucking her fingers all the way in. She came violently, hardly making a sound, her mouth open in a silent scream that reached me on the balcony through sheer empathy.

It was impossible to hold on any longer. I clenched my teeth and gave my cock the last few strokes. I shot a long, thick burst that splattered the balcony rail; I felt the spurts come one after another, hot, while I kept my eyes nailed to her trembling body. Maybe it was because of how long it had been since I’d last fucked, maybe because of how obscene the situation was, but I came harder than I had in months.

She took a few moments to move. She stayed lying there with her legs open, one hand still resting on her soaked cunt, breathing hard. Then she ran her fingers over her mouth, sucked them slowly until they were clean, and closed the laptop with her feet. She covered herself with the duvet and seemed to fall asleep within seconds. I stayed on the balcony a little longer, my cock dripping the last of it and my pajamas half pulled up, while I got my breath back. I could hardly believe what I’d just done or what I’d just seen. I cleaned the railing as best I could with a bit of paper, closed the door carefully, and went to bed.

I found it hard to sleep. The image of my tenant kept coming back every time I closed my eyes: her fingers sunk into her cunt, her tits bouncing, the face of a wild, uncontrolled slut she’d made when she came. I got hard again, painfully hard, and I didn’t think twice. I spit into my hand and started working myself over right there, in bed, imagining it was me spreading her legs, me pushing into her to the hilt, me covering her mouth so her moans wouldn’t wake the neighbors. I came again, weaker, over my belly, and at last sleep beat me with my hand still stained.

I spent the next day with those images circling my head, although they no longer turned me on with the same force. When I got home and sat down to dinner with her, I could barely string a sentence together. My eyes kept wandering to her tits whenever she bent to pick something up, to her lips when she brought the fork to her mouth, to her ass when she stood up to fetch water. I couldn’t look at her the same way as two weeks earlier. She talked about her course, an exam, an annoying classmate, and I nodded without taking in half of it, my cock half hard under the table.

All I wanted was for her to retreat to her room so I could go back out onto the balcony. I wanted to repeat that moment, spy on her skin in the laptop’s light, watch her spread her legs again and finger herself, be once more the invisible witness to a pleasure she believed was hers alone. I knew I was crossing a line I shouldn’t cross. And I knew, too, that I had no intention of stepping back.