Time flees: An expression that refers to the fleeting nature of life.
1. Valium.
Yogurts need an expiration date because, without those four numbers written on the lid, we would instantly suspect their good condition and dismiss adding them to our shopping cart. No, we would never buy them and wouldn't do so for a very simple reason, because our health concerns us.
However, let's be clear, that expiration date does not indicate the day that yogurt spoils if not a date from which it starts losing its natural properties. Who hasn't eaten a yogurt that had been waiting three weeks in the fridge? Well, one day comes the time for a snack, you give it a chance and finish off that inconvenient problem.
The same happens with Valium. Valium is an anxiolytic medication, a muscle relaxant with sedative effects. Due to these properties, we use it to treat anxiety, epilepsy, insomnia, and also to alleviate the agony of dying people, those who no longer worry about their health.
2. Campello, 2003.
Belen was and still is beautiful, a captivating woman with a feline gaze, frizzy brunette hair, and pale skin like wax. A natural executive by vocation, she maintained a fibrous body thanks to exhausting aerobic classes, which are now called Zumba but it's the same thing.
Certainly, nature had been generous to her. Some women would say she had a few extra pounds, but I don't think any man would share such an insidious judgment. Belen flaunted her curves with abandon. She knew and boasted without complexes about her generous breasts and large butt. In fact, Belen's backside was a magnet for the gaze of bachelors and married men who crossed her path. If dressed she was beautiful, naked she was imposing.
It was precisely at the gym where we met, and since it didn't take long to figure out that she was a widow, I deduced that the interest was mutual. her husband. He didn't say how many, but the way we screwed that same night left it clear to me that Belén had overcome her husband's death. Apparently, they had diagnosed him with a very advanced malignant tumor. When a second expert confirmed the death sentence, the poor man wrote a farewell letter and jumped off a bridge.
Anyway, it was evident that Belén was quite older than me, maybe that's why she never told me her age. She had two daughters, Lorena ten years old and María eight years old, both from her only and failed marriage. The elder one was the typical perfect daughter who never bothers anyone. Lorena lived obsessed with outstanding achievements and besides studying, she took German classes and trained daily with the provincial rhythmic gymnastics team. María, on the other hand, was for her mother the perpetual reminder of why she didn't want a serious relationship with me. According to her, her little daughter was just as messy and unpredictable as I was.
The truth is that Belén and I were very happy. The flame of passion always burned strongly between us. I always knew that for her, I was just a whim, a fling to brag about to her friends and especially to her younger sister with whom she got along quite badly. I thought that someday Belén would get tired of me, find someone else, and our thing would be over. But it didn't happen either way; instead, the succession of conflicts and discussions convinced us that our thing was no longer worth it. We were together for more than three years.
Our relationship revolved around sports, both in and out of bed. Besides going to the gym, we loved going out on the city's green belt, Belén almost always with roller skates and me running after her. We enjoyed any outdoor activity, went for a brisk walk, rode bikes, and sometimes did hiking in the mountains.
As for sex, something happened with Belén that It had never happened to me before with any woman. I always knew when to approach and when not to, when she would appreciate being rewarded with a kiss behind the ear and when she wanted to be punished with a good whipping. Belén had made her way in life through tenacity and effort. She was a woman with character, also in bed, she didn't hesitate to plant her wet sex on my mouth or tremble at seeing me apply lubricant.
Belén was a strict woman who rightfully held a responsible position in a well-known national company. Showing character was essential in her daily life. At first, she showed subtlety with me, using all her dialectics and persuasion to get what she wanted. I let myself be led, I've always liked women with spirit. Unfortunately, as the months went by, that game of domination rooted in her genes began to emerge.
Belén liked giving orders, imposing herself, deciding how things should be done. Slowly but surely, we entered a spiral of rewards and punishments that brought out masochism in our sexual relations. It was when toys and other paraphernalia became part of the nighttime menu.
Belén imposed her will on everyone and that made her feel exultant. Her orders were inexorable and I obeyed without disputing them. Then, in intimacy Belén apologized for being so mean to me and tried to make up for her arrogance and acridity. At that point, my ex would take the whip out of the closet and hand it to me with pleading eyes. She wanted me to punish her and I would see her clenching her teeth with each flagellation. Belén held her breath as she heard the whip whistling through the air and shuddered anticipating the leather lash on her rear skin. It was hard to tell if Belén's face reflected pain or pleasure, fear or relief, disappointment or satisfaction.
On other occasions, especially when she ignored me in front of her colleagues, instead of... My cock was the one that left her ass resentful. I always sodomized her the way she had taught me to, with patience and no hesitation. I loved seeing her gasping and screaming scandalously when she reached orgasm, as tears streamed down her face outside and my semen inside.
That was our game for only the last year of our relationship. Soon we both realized that her inflexible character was incompatible with my relaxed attitude towards life and especially with my free spirit.
Despite having broken up as a couple, we remained on good terms and continued to give each other all the love and desire we had inside us for some time. In fact, even after she started dating a recently divorced man, her boss, we maintained a certain friendship. We would occasionally chat on WhatsApp, where I'd recommend books or send funny memes that made her laugh, and she'd wish me a Merry Christmas.
However, although we only spoke by phone on our birthdays, both of us knew that if it was really necessary, we could count on each other. That's why when Lorena showed up at my house that afternoon, the first thing I did was call her mother to tell her.
It was a Friday, and I remember it well because I had to cancel plans with my friend Pepe to go cycling the next day.
You're not like my mother, those were her words. The living situation between mother and daughter had become unbearable in recent months. Apparently, they were now at odds and constantly arguing. This situation had pushed Lorena to leave home and show up at my doorstep with her colorful suitcase. Her hypothetical plan was to emancipate herself by moving into my house.
Over the phone, Belén told me that Lorena had turned into a hermetic, intransigent teenager, gritona. The girl's defects accumulated as she grew up. According to my ex, they hardly spoke and when they did it was at the top of their lungs. Belén went on to explain her daughter's history. She had been called from school several times because she missed classes. Lorena would come and go as she pleased, didn't respond to messages, in fact, her only contact with her mother was if she needed money or was about to run out of data.
With that premeditated confession, my ex was preparing the ground for the surprise he had in store for me. Belén ended up asking me to let her daughter stay over at my house. The mother of the child was convinced that the next day her daughter would have calmed down and things would return to normal, or so I was led to believe.
― You can stay tonight ―I announced to Lorena without hiding a single ounce of resignation― There's salad and smoked salmon toast for dinner.
― I'm vegetarian ―she hastened to say.
I looked at her incredulously before responding.
― Well, you're in luck, I don't always have salad.
As I was preparing dinner, I told Belén's daughter where things were so she could set the table. Lorena was 17 years old and in her first year of high school, having repeated a grade. She was still at the institute, but that year was going very badly for her, as she herself recognized. The only subjects she liked were mathematics and physics. For all other subjects, she only went on rainy days.
Her appearance had changed a lot. There was no longer any trace of the uniformed schoolgirl I remembered. Now Lorena looked more like a neighborhood tramp. I counted four piercings: one in her left ear, another in her upper lip that seemed like a mole, a small diamond in her nose and the last one on her tongue. You must be very crazy to get a piercing on your tongue, I thought.
During dinner, I tried to make her see the importance of getting back into her studies. I knew that Lorena was still on time to take the course, or at least not have to repeat it, she was a smart girl. Besides, they now give many facilities to pass. However, she dug in that her mother had forced her to enroll in Bachillerato when what she wanted was to do a laboratory assistant module. She didn't intend to go to university and so it didn't matter whether she passed or failed. She had taken the decision to wait until she turned 18 and then get a Professional Training module. Lorena wasn't very sensible, but at least she had things clear.
As I saw that studies were a dead end, I asked if she was still going horseback riding. Luckily, she said yes and we started talking in a more relaxed tone. Years ago, when I was living in her house, I used to take care of taking her to her uncle's farm in a nearby town. Her uncle Benito, a great enthusiast of the equestrian world, had given her an Arabian horse. It was a magnificent animal that, despite being discarded from a racing horse breeder, was the best horse in the world for that spoiled girl.
After dinner, Lorena sat on the kitchen table while I washed the dishes. I looked at her eyes for a moment, but she didn't notice that I thought it wasn't suitable to put her butt where we ate. I let it be, although I had managed to calm her down, and the balance in adolescence is always unstable.
Lorena asked me why I didn't use the dishwasher and I told her that since I lived alone and didn't always eat at home, it took too long to fill it and wasn't worth it. Maybe now it would be, I lamented.
― Do you have a girlfriend? ―she wanted to know.
I was surprised by the indiscretion of her question, but then I looked at her and remembered she was no longer ten years old if not seventeen.
― Only friends ―I answered briefly.
Lorena smiled perceptively. ―Follamigas? ―That doesn't concern you, I replied without even looking at her. Lorena had said she didn't like reading and that had surprised me. Everyone refers to an interest in reading, although they may not have read a single paragraph in years. So, to change the subject, I started talking about the novel I was reading at the time, The Rites of Water by Eva Gª Sainz de Urturi. There was luck, my ex's daughter stopped her interrogation to listen attentively to the summary I began to give her. Lorena picked up a banana. I had only eaten a little salad for dinner, so she must have been hungry. In fact, she took the largest banana from the fruit bowl. I would have offered her something else if she had deigned to ask, but she didn't. I explained that the novel started with a stormy relationship between two young people during a summer camp. My ex's daughter didn't miss a detail, identifying with the bewildering and resolute adolescent who eclipses the beginning of the novel. A girl trapped in a love triangle alongside two boys who had been like one flesh until then. The protagonists' dilemma was in practice a fight body to body between friendship and desire. Although I'm ashamed to say it, I have to admit that while I was unraveling the story, I glanced at Lorena's cleavage out of the corner of my eye. At that moment, the girl was leaning forward and, since she wasn't wearing a bra, the weight of her breasts made the opening of her cleavage give way. The sudden discovery of her small pair of nipples added to the suggestive way Lorena took the banana to her mouth. I tried to focus on drying the dishes, but I lost track of what I was saying. My ex's daughter looked at me, wanting to know if the girl's whim would make the two boys end up fighting for good. ―And...? She said with expectation. ―Finish eating, I said, but my eyes went where they shouldn't have. Unfortunately, that insignificant gesture didn't go unnoticed by Lorena who suddenly understood the reason for my silence, burst out laughing.
I didn't find it funny that lady was laughing at me, so I threw the towel over the counter and stood there looking at her in silence.
Lorena couldn't control her laughter and this generated an uncomfortable situation which the girl tried to end with a loud cough.
I thought she would say something, but instead Lorena simply straightened up, grabbed her blouse by the shoulders and pulled it down. It was worse than the disease, as I myself showed, her gesture made evident the firmness of her nipples. This time we both burst out laughing.
Once that surreal situation had passed, I continued reading the novel until where I had read. With an idea to keep chatting, I got a couple of refreshments and some snacks. Lorena's previous history wasn't my concern but, obviously, I was interested in the girl's plans.
...and why do you want to make that laboratory assistant module? I asked.
To earn a living, she asserted, pretending maturity.
I'm glad... but where do you plan on earning a living? At Repsol, at the university, in a cellar...?
In the police she replied.
It had been a long time since someone of the opposite sex had left me absorbed twice in a row. It was completely incredible, the thief wanted to be a cop... I looked her up and down with perplexity: shorts, leggings, a shirt with my belly button exposed and a horse's tail hairstyle. With that appearance, Lorena would only get into a police station by being handcuffed behind her back.
The girl was a bit lost, something completely normal at her age. Investigation police series have always caused a stir among the young, not a few of whom believe they see in that infallible police officer an alter ego who will one day become. What happens is that reality policing is quite different. Not all policemen are good-looking, neither the investigation of a crime is carried out in sixty minutes. Against what Lorena thought, it was more than recommended to have university studies to enter the scientific police. It wasn't that it was obligatory, but having those studies gave essential points to get that job. Besides studying a lot, a police officer has to fight with everyone, with her superiors, with judges and of course with delinquents and their damn lawyers. If that weren't enough, I've heard they have to spend hours and hours writing and completing reports in an office, but clear, you didn't know or sense it at seventeen.
With all, I wasn't going to be the one who would try to take away the idea of being a police officer from her. In reality, I liked listening to her ramble on with that passion and conviction about being an authority agent, carrying a gun and watching over others' well-being.
While feeling the youthfulness of her words, an idea occurred to me and when we were already saying goodbye, I asked her to tell me her phone number so I could send her something. Lorena didn't think for a second.
That night I went to bed with a certain unease. My sexual life had been trading low for a month. It had been at the beginning of April when Montse and I had gotten together for the last time.
Montse was the only partner with whom I had sex in a more or less regular way. She was a special woman, charismatic, and if she supervised the group of auxiliaries at the residence, it wasn't by chance.
I never dared to ask her age, but Montse must have been around fifty. Her son Luis, the only one she had, had already emancipated himself by then.
Despite her age, my partner maintained a felinelike agility. Some days she would go swimming and the rest would go for a walk, since those were the only sports that the large size of her breasts allowed her to do comfortably.
Nature had been generous with my veteran companion. Even with those loose uniforms, it was evident that Montse had too much meat on her bones both in front and back. Her tits were the joy of the residence and not just for the old men, but also for us. My companion even boasted that traffic guards would stop her, not to ask for her documentation, but to look at her cleavage.
Although she was still beautiful, the supervisor of the nursing assistants wore quite a bit of makeup. There were two things about her touch-ups that caught my attention. The first was how sharp the eyeliner line was that she applied herself, and the second was that cherry red lipstick that made her lips seem to scream: I need to be screwed.
I didn't know her husband personally, but I had seen him in a photo. The idea occurred to me on the first night we got together. Despite the inopportune timing of my proposal, Montse stopped what she was doing to take out her phone and select a photo of Carlos, her husband.
My companion picked up where she left off with such haste that she didn't notice my look of amazement. It was clear that Carlos must have been at least ten years older than the woman who was kneeling in front of me. His face wasn't just lined from age, but also reflected fatigue and apathy due to the passage of time.
I looked back at her, who seemed like a twenty-year-old with a hunger for life. Although Montse had eaten something before going down, she still had an appetite. She must have been around menopause, was a woman and married, so I knew what to do to satisfy her intense desire for sex.
'What a great mom your wife is!' I thought as I gazed at her husband's face. It was as if he could see how eagerly his wife was eating me out.
'Look at your husband!' I said to her then, holding the phone in front of her nose.
Montse looked at her husband's eyes and continued nodding vigorously. She wanted it, ' I knew it was going to make me come any moment and I didn't intend to stop.
His behavior was so obscene and disturbing that he couldn't contain himself for another second and, putting his hand under his pants, started masturbating with the same frenzy with which he was eating my cock.
Almost didn't have time to turn on the front camera of his phone. When Montse saw herself on the screen, she opened her eyes wide and turned away at the worst moment, just when a violent jet of semen hit her palate.
It all happened very quickly, it was only five seconds. Montse turned her head to the left and spat out the white fluid, but then another jet of semen pierced the right side of her face, from her temple to her ear. She tried to move away, but I pulled her back and put my member on her lips again.
I was already about to paint them white when she opened them slightly, letting the thick nectar enter her mouth. Adopting the concave shape of a spoon, Mont's tongue collected the rest of my orgasm. Impatient, Montse puckered her lips around my member and sucked it with all her might. It was spectacular, even her husband would have been proud of her.
Even with her mouth full of cock, my adventure partner redoubled the fury with which she was masturbating and ended up experiencing a fulminating orgasm. Her body entered a kind of nervous crisis, trembling and shaking with abrupt spasms. It was overwhelming to see how the volume of my member drowned out her moans.
Once the climax had passed, Montse forgot all about me and started acting for the camera.
In the video, Carlos could see his wife enthusiastically sucking on the thick member of her lover. The lampreys on Mont's face would indicate that he had already come. Her mistress seemed determined to make the most of this exquisite delicacy. As if wanting to prove it, she didn't hesitate to open The mouth and teach the camera the lustful mixture of semen and saliva obtained from that stallion. It was such a quantity that in a moment of carelessness it spilled over the corner of the mouth. The veteran woman seemed to swallow the brew and then showed her mouth effectively empty. Smiling, she picked up with her fingers the sperm that had spilled and sucked them looking at her young rival. Montse had won again. With all, she knew how to be grateful and obliged with some tender sucks on the defeated and retreating penis.
—I'm sorry, I don't know what happened to me—
—I apologized abashedly.
—But if you've come like a donkey!—said Montse in amazement—If I had known it, I wouldn't have eaten yogurt!
CONTINUARA...
1. Valium.
Yogurts need an expiration date because, without those four numbers written on the lid, we would instantly suspect their good condition and dismiss adding them to our shopping cart. No, we would never buy them and wouldn't do so for a very simple reason, because our health concerns us.
However, let's be clear, that expiration date does not indicate the day that yogurt spoils if not a date from which it starts losing its natural properties. Who hasn't eaten a yogurt that had been waiting three weeks in the fridge? Well, one day comes the time for a snack, you give it a chance and finish off that inconvenient problem.
The same happens with Valium. Valium is an anxiolytic medication, a muscle relaxant with sedative effects. Due to these properties, we use it to treat anxiety, epilepsy, insomnia, and also to alleviate the agony of dying people, those who no longer worry about their health.
2. Campello, 2003.
Belen was and still is beautiful, a captivating woman with a feline gaze, frizzy brunette hair, and pale skin like wax. A natural executive by vocation, she maintained a fibrous body thanks to exhausting aerobic classes, which are now called Zumba but it's the same thing.
Certainly, nature had been generous to her. Some women would say she had a few extra pounds, but I don't think any man would share such an insidious judgment. Belen flaunted her curves with abandon. She knew and boasted without complexes about her generous breasts and large butt. In fact, Belen's backside was a magnet for the gaze of bachelors and married men who crossed her path. If dressed she was beautiful, naked she was imposing.
It was precisely at the gym where we met, and since it didn't take long to figure out that she was a widow, I deduced that the interest was mutual. her husband. He didn't say how many, but the way we screwed that same night left it clear to me that Belén had overcome her husband's death. Apparently, they had diagnosed him with a very advanced malignant tumor. When a second expert confirmed the death sentence, the poor man wrote a farewell letter and jumped off a bridge.
Anyway, it was evident that Belén was quite older than me, maybe that's why she never told me her age. She had two daughters, Lorena ten years old and María eight years old, both from her only and failed marriage. The elder one was the typical perfect daughter who never bothers anyone. Lorena lived obsessed with outstanding achievements and besides studying, she took German classes and trained daily with the provincial rhythmic gymnastics team. María, on the other hand, was for her mother the perpetual reminder of why she didn't want a serious relationship with me. According to her, her little daughter was just as messy and unpredictable as I was.
The truth is that Belén and I were very happy. The flame of passion always burned strongly between us. I always knew that for her, I was just a whim, a fling to brag about to her friends and especially to her younger sister with whom she got along quite badly. I thought that someday Belén would get tired of me, find someone else, and our thing would be over. But it didn't happen either way; instead, the succession of conflicts and discussions convinced us that our thing was no longer worth it. We were together for more than three years.
Our relationship revolved around sports, both in and out of bed. Besides going to the gym, we loved going out on the city's green belt, Belén almost always with roller skates and me running after her. We enjoyed any outdoor activity, went for a brisk walk, rode bikes, and sometimes did hiking in the mountains.
As for sex, something happened with Belén that It had never happened to me before with any woman. I always knew when to approach and when not to, when she would appreciate being rewarded with a kiss behind the ear and when she wanted to be punished with a good whipping. Belén had made her way in life through tenacity and effort. She was a woman with character, also in bed, she didn't hesitate to plant her wet sex on my mouth or tremble at seeing me apply lubricant.
Belén was a strict woman who rightfully held a responsible position in a well-known national company. Showing character was essential in her daily life. At first, she showed subtlety with me, using all her dialectics and persuasion to get what she wanted. I let myself be led, I've always liked women with spirit. Unfortunately, as the months went by, that game of domination rooted in her genes began to emerge.
Belén liked giving orders, imposing herself, deciding how things should be done. Slowly but surely, we entered a spiral of rewards and punishments that brought out masochism in our sexual relations. It was when toys and other paraphernalia became part of the nighttime menu.
Belén imposed her will on everyone and that made her feel exultant. Her orders were inexorable and I obeyed without disputing them. Then, in intimacy Belén apologized for being so mean to me and tried to make up for her arrogance and acridity. At that point, my ex would take the whip out of the closet and hand it to me with pleading eyes. She wanted me to punish her and I would see her clenching her teeth with each flagellation. Belén held her breath as she heard the whip whistling through the air and shuddered anticipating the leather lash on her rear skin. It was hard to tell if Belén's face reflected pain or pleasure, fear or relief, disappointment or satisfaction.
On other occasions, especially when she ignored me in front of her colleagues, instead of... My cock was the one that left her ass resentful. I always sodomized her the way she had taught me to, with patience and no hesitation. I loved seeing her gasping and screaming scandalously when she reached orgasm, as tears streamed down her face outside and my semen inside.
That was our game for only the last year of our relationship. Soon we both realized that her inflexible character was incompatible with my relaxed attitude towards life and especially with my free spirit.
Despite having broken up as a couple, we remained on good terms and continued to give each other all the love and desire we had inside us for some time. In fact, even after she started dating a recently divorced man, her boss, we maintained a certain friendship. We would occasionally chat on WhatsApp, where I'd recommend books or send funny memes that made her laugh, and she'd wish me a Merry Christmas.
However, although we only spoke by phone on our birthdays, both of us knew that if it was really necessary, we could count on each other. That's why when Lorena showed up at my house that afternoon, the first thing I did was call her mother to tell her.
It was a Friday, and I remember it well because I had to cancel plans with my friend Pepe to go cycling the next day.
You're not like my mother, those were her words. The living situation between mother and daughter had become unbearable in recent months. Apparently, they were now at odds and constantly arguing. This situation had pushed Lorena to leave home and show up at my doorstep with her colorful suitcase. Her hypothetical plan was to emancipate herself by moving into my house.
Over the phone, Belén told me that Lorena had turned into a hermetic, intransigent teenager, gritona. The girl's defects accumulated as she grew up. According to my ex, they hardly spoke and when they did it was at the top of their lungs. Belén went on to explain her daughter's history. She had been called from school several times because she missed classes. Lorena would come and go as she pleased, didn't respond to messages, in fact, her only contact with her mother was if she needed money or was about to run out of data.
With that premeditated confession, my ex was preparing the ground for the surprise he had in store for me. Belén ended up asking me to let her daughter stay over at my house. The mother of the child was convinced that the next day her daughter would have calmed down and things would return to normal, or so I was led to believe.
― You can stay tonight ―I announced to Lorena without hiding a single ounce of resignation― There's salad and smoked salmon toast for dinner.
― I'm vegetarian ―she hastened to say.
I looked at her incredulously before responding.
― Well, you're in luck, I don't always have salad.
As I was preparing dinner, I told Belén's daughter where things were so she could set the table. Lorena was 17 years old and in her first year of high school, having repeated a grade. She was still at the institute, but that year was going very badly for her, as she herself recognized. The only subjects she liked were mathematics and physics. For all other subjects, she only went on rainy days.
Her appearance had changed a lot. There was no longer any trace of the uniformed schoolgirl I remembered. Now Lorena looked more like a neighborhood tramp. I counted four piercings: one in her left ear, another in her upper lip that seemed like a mole, a small diamond in her nose and the last one on her tongue. You must be very crazy to get a piercing on your tongue, I thought.
During dinner, I tried to make her see the importance of getting back into her studies. I knew that Lorena was still on time to take the course, or at least not have to repeat it, she was a smart girl. Besides, they now give many facilities to pass. However, she dug in that her mother had forced her to enroll in Bachillerato when what she wanted was to do a laboratory assistant module. She didn't intend to go to university and so it didn't matter whether she passed or failed. She had taken the decision to wait until she turned 18 and then get a Professional Training module. Lorena wasn't very sensible, but at least she had things clear.
As I saw that studies were a dead end, I asked if she was still going horseback riding. Luckily, she said yes and we started talking in a more relaxed tone. Years ago, when I was living in her house, I used to take care of taking her to her uncle's farm in a nearby town. Her uncle Benito, a great enthusiast of the equestrian world, had given her an Arabian horse. It was a magnificent animal that, despite being discarded from a racing horse breeder, was the best horse in the world for that spoiled girl.
After dinner, Lorena sat on the kitchen table while I washed the dishes. I looked at her eyes for a moment, but she didn't notice that I thought it wasn't suitable to put her butt where we ate. I let it be, although I had managed to calm her down, and the balance in adolescence is always unstable.
Lorena asked me why I didn't use the dishwasher and I told her that since I lived alone and didn't always eat at home, it took too long to fill it and wasn't worth it. Maybe now it would be, I lamented.
― Do you have a girlfriend? ―she wanted to know.
I was surprised by the indiscretion of her question, but then I looked at her and remembered she was no longer ten years old if not seventeen.
― Only friends ―I answered briefly.
Lorena smiled perceptively. ―Follamigas? ―That doesn't concern you, I replied without even looking at her. Lorena had said she didn't like reading and that had surprised me. Everyone refers to an interest in reading, although they may not have read a single paragraph in years. So, to change the subject, I started talking about the novel I was reading at the time, The Rites of Water by Eva Gª Sainz de Urturi. There was luck, my ex's daughter stopped her interrogation to listen attentively to the summary I began to give her. Lorena picked up a banana. I had only eaten a little salad for dinner, so she must have been hungry. In fact, she took the largest banana from the fruit bowl. I would have offered her something else if she had deigned to ask, but she didn't. I explained that the novel started with a stormy relationship between two young people during a summer camp. My ex's daughter didn't miss a detail, identifying with the bewildering and resolute adolescent who eclipses the beginning of the novel. A girl trapped in a love triangle alongside two boys who had been like one flesh until then. The protagonists' dilemma was in practice a fight body to body between friendship and desire. Although I'm ashamed to say it, I have to admit that while I was unraveling the story, I glanced at Lorena's cleavage out of the corner of my eye. At that moment, the girl was leaning forward and, since she wasn't wearing a bra, the weight of her breasts made the opening of her cleavage give way. The sudden discovery of her small pair of nipples added to the suggestive way Lorena took the banana to her mouth. I tried to focus on drying the dishes, but I lost track of what I was saying. My ex's daughter looked at me, wanting to know if the girl's whim would make the two boys end up fighting for good. ―And...? She said with expectation. ―Finish eating, I said, but my eyes went where they shouldn't have. Unfortunately, that insignificant gesture didn't go unnoticed by Lorena who suddenly understood the reason for my silence, burst out laughing.
I didn't find it funny that lady was laughing at me, so I threw the towel over the counter and stood there looking at her in silence.
Lorena couldn't control her laughter and this generated an uncomfortable situation which the girl tried to end with a loud cough.
I thought she would say something, but instead Lorena simply straightened up, grabbed her blouse by the shoulders and pulled it down. It was worse than the disease, as I myself showed, her gesture made evident the firmness of her nipples. This time we both burst out laughing.
Once that surreal situation had passed, I continued reading the novel until where I had read. With an idea to keep chatting, I got a couple of refreshments and some snacks. Lorena's previous history wasn't my concern but, obviously, I was interested in the girl's plans.
...and why do you want to make that laboratory assistant module? I asked.
To earn a living, she asserted, pretending maturity.
I'm glad... but where do you plan on earning a living? At Repsol, at the university, in a cellar...?
In the police she replied.
It had been a long time since someone of the opposite sex had left me absorbed twice in a row. It was completely incredible, the thief wanted to be a cop... I looked her up and down with perplexity: shorts, leggings, a shirt with my belly button exposed and a horse's tail hairstyle. With that appearance, Lorena would only get into a police station by being handcuffed behind her back.
The girl was a bit lost, something completely normal at her age. Investigation police series have always caused a stir among the young, not a few of whom believe they see in that infallible police officer an alter ego who will one day become. What happens is that reality policing is quite different. Not all policemen are good-looking, neither the investigation of a crime is carried out in sixty minutes. Against what Lorena thought, it was more than recommended to have university studies to enter the scientific police. It wasn't that it was obligatory, but having those studies gave essential points to get that job. Besides studying a lot, a police officer has to fight with everyone, with her superiors, with judges and of course with delinquents and their damn lawyers. If that weren't enough, I've heard they have to spend hours and hours writing and completing reports in an office, but clear, you didn't know or sense it at seventeen.
With all, I wasn't going to be the one who would try to take away the idea of being a police officer from her. In reality, I liked listening to her ramble on with that passion and conviction about being an authority agent, carrying a gun and watching over others' well-being.
While feeling the youthfulness of her words, an idea occurred to me and when we were already saying goodbye, I asked her to tell me her phone number so I could send her something. Lorena didn't think for a second.
That night I went to bed with a certain unease. My sexual life had been trading low for a month. It had been at the beginning of April when Montse and I had gotten together for the last time.
Montse was the only partner with whom I had sex in a more or less regular way. She was a special woman, charismatic, and if she supervised the group of auxiliaries at the residence, it wasn't by chance.
I never dared to ask her age, but Montse must have been around fifty. Her son Luis, the only one she had, had already emancipated himself by then.
Despite her age, my partner maintained a felinelike agility. Some days she would go swimming and the rest would go for a walk, since those were the only sports that the large size of her breasts allowed her to do comfortably.
Nature had been generous with my veteran companion. Even with those loose uniforms, it was evident that Montse had too much meat on her bones both in front and back. Her tits were the joy of the residence and not just for the old men, but also for us. My companion even boasted that traffic guards would stop her, not to ask for her documentation, but to look at her cleavage.
Although she was still beautiful, the supervisor of the nursing assistants wore quite a bit of makeup. There were two things about her touch-ups that caught my attention. The first was how sharp the eyeliner line was that she applied herself, and the second was that cherry red lipstick that made her lips seem to scream: I need to be screwed.
I didn't know her husband personally, but I had seen him in a photo. The idea occurred to me on the first night we got together. Despite the inopportune timing of my proposal, Montse stopped what she was doing to take out her phone and select a photo of Carlos, her husband.
My companion picked up where she left off with such haste that she didn't notice my look of amazement. It was clear that Carlos must have been at least ten years older than the woman who was kneeling in front of me. His face wasn't just lined from age, but also reflected fatigue and apathy due to the passage of time.
I looked back at her, who seemed like a twenty-year-old with a hunger for life. Although Montse had eaten something before going down, she still had an appetite. She must have been around menopause, was a woman and married, so I knew what to do to satisfy her intense desire for sex.
'What a great mom your wife is!' I thought as I gazed at her husband's face. It was as if he could see how eagerly his wife was eating me out.
'Look at your husband!' I said to her then, holding the phone in front of her nose.
Montse looked at her husband's eyes and continued nodding vigorously. She wanted it, ' I knew it was going to make me come any moment and I didn't intend to stop.
His behavior was so obscene and disturbing that he couldn't contain himself for another second and, putting his hand under his pants, started masturbating with the same frenzy with which he was eating my cock.
Almost didn't have time to turn on the front camera of his phone. When Montse saw herself on the screen, she opened her eyes wide and turned away at the worst moment, just when a violent jet of semen hit her palate.
It all happened very quickly, it was only five seconds. Montse turned her head to the left and spat out the white fluid, but then another jet of semen pierced the right side of her face, from her temple to her ear. She tried to move away, but I pulled her back and put my member on her lips again.
I was already about to paint them white when she opened them slightly, letting the thick nectar enter her mouth. Adopting the concave shape of a spoon, Mont's tongue collected the rest of my orgasm. Impatient, Montse puckered her lips around my member and sucked it with all her might. It was spectacular, even her husband would have been proud of her.
Even with her mouth full of cock, my adventure partner redoubled the fury with which she was masturbating and ended up experiencing a fulminating orgasm. Her body entered a kind of nervous crisis, trembling and shaking with abrupt spasms. It was overwhelming to see how the volume of my member drowned out her moans.
Once the climax had passed, Montse forgot all about me and started acting for the camera.
In the video, Carlos could see his wife enthusiastically sucking on the thick member of her lover. The lampreys on Mont's face would indicate that he had already come. Her mistress seemed determined to make the most of this exquisite delicacy. As if wanting to prove it, she didn't hesitate to open The mouth and teach the camera the lustful mixture of semen and saliva obtained from that stallion. It was such a quantity that in a moment of carelessness it spilled over the corner of the mouth. The veteran woman seemed to swallow the brew and then showed her mouth effectively empty. Smiling, she picked up with her fingers the sperm that had spilled and sucked them looking at her young rival. Montse had won again. With all, she knew how to be grateful and obliged with some tender sucks on the defeated and retreating penis.
—I'm sorry, I don't know what happened to me—
—I apologized abashedly.
—But if you've come like a donkey!—said Montse in amazement—If I had known it, I wouldn't have eaten yogurt!
CONTINUARA...
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