Clarification: when I first published this story, it generated quite a stir. It's controversial, I know. If you're sensitive to moral themes, it may affect you. Regardless of how things unfold that I'll be telling you about, the conclusion is satisfyingly exciting. Do you dare to read it? Download your opinion afterwards.
About certain situations in life, it's hard to form an opinion or take a stance. I'll tell you what happened and you can draw your own conclusions. You're free to leave your vision in the comments. The neighborhood where I live is a typical Buenos Aires neighborhood that strays a bit from the bustling city center (I don't want to give too much away, you'll understand why). The area is mostly composed of houses that don't exceed two floors, some buildings with no more than 4 floors and many properties located through a corridor, roughly long, that accommodates 3, 4 or sometimes more consecutive apartments.
In an apartment like this (the second one from the street) I live comfortably, along with my beautiful wife and children. A small one and two in school age. I say my beautiful wife because I feel that way, despite the years we've been together. Strong woman, direct. She manages her life and things with determination. Never doubts. Always has a precise answer for each thing. Never makes a mistake. It's really admirable.
Years haven't made her any worse. Her attractiveness is still intact. To this day, her elegant walk represents an opportunity for rough walkers to indulge themselves, both when she comes and goes. And despite the times of change we live in, she always runs into some improvised street poet who defines with words more or less coarse what my wife's physical appearance awakens in him.
Excuse me if I don't describe her with greater details. I consider my wife something sacred, not mine to possess but rather a part of my privacy. Besides, it's not about her the history. I must also clarify that if you haven't noticed yet, I am a person formed in values that many people today call old-fashioned or outdated. Father of the family, exemplary husband, unconditional friend, honorable member of the school cooperative and club leadership where my children attend, etc. These activities and my performance in them are what best define me. Additionally, by personal belief, faith, and taste, I attend church every Sunday and on holidays. Not just as a listener, but I also occasionally offer to help with whatever is needed. Over time, although I didn't pursue a religious career, I became a reference point, a pillar of the congregation. Many see me as a person whose advice is valid and encouraging in complicated situations of their life. Up until now, I've talked about myself. Now I'll start telling you what happened. As I said, I live in the second apartment on the hallway. The third apartment lives a large, single woman who very occasionally receives some family visits. The fourth apartment has been empty for a long time and is at the end of the hall. And ahead, in the first apartment, Hernán lives. Well, not just Hernán. His wife or girlfriend, I'm not sure what to call her, Rocío, also lives there. They've only been together for a few months, but they already cohabitate and have a six-month-old child. Maybe that's the real reason for their hasty living arrangement. I've known Hernán for many years. Since I moved into this house. He was Zulma, the owner of the apartment, son when I met him. At the time, he was married but surprisingly in the process of separation due to his young age. So, over time, he moved ahead with his mother until she passed away (life's things) and he ended up being the owner of his own space where he could fully enjoy his regained bachelorhood. I saw many girls pass through that apartment. Many very well-formed ones. Really, Hernán had converted into the envy of everyone who likes to spend their life exploring the delights of female company without commitment. Wasting his days vainly possessing the bodies of those women with the most varied and extravagant forms. Devouring those young and beautiful bodies until he's sick of them, then discarding them to satisfy his thirst in another body of equal or greater voluptuousness, or perhaps seeking less experienced skins, who knows? Many went through that department. I crossed paths with some on my way out to work one morning. I've seen their faces and bodies, and I have to admit that I felt pity for most of them. Pity for seeing these girls with such beautiful figures and bearing, wasting the most valuable moment of their youth. It seemed as if they were willing to surrender to the neglect provided by my neighbor. Pity for seeing their tired faces after a night full of luxury, without direction... Many nights we've listened to my wife and me through the walls, cries and moans of various kinds that came from the house next door, more or less loud until our ears. That was a situation that sometimes made us laugh, sometimes infuriated us, and sometimes (why not admit it? after all, we live our happiness as a couple in the way that corresponds) stimulated us. I mean, it raised the necessary candor to enjoy our bodies with passion. But always with respect and responsibility, with affection and mutual containment. Of course, very different from what was heard on the other side of the wall, where things were developing. My wife, always accurate, would comment about the sadness that generated in her the senselessness with which my neighbor lived his life, the reproachable liberality of his 'little friends' (most didn't last long and were generally unpleasant, shameless people). How good it would be for Hernán to find... Someone to sit with my head... Opinions like these, filled with wisdom, were common in my wife. Not just about the neighbor: about everything. All day. I always admired her eloquence and ability to express, to each situation that presented itself, her opinion so full of goodness and precision.
Of course, not all the women who passed through my neighbor's department generated rejection or antipathy. For example, with Rocío, the current partner, it was different from the start. She was different. I'm not just referring to her physical condition, which, like most of Hernán's friends, generates an immediate visual admiration. Her beauty is not limited only to her evident large and harmonious curves, but also to her character, her sympathy. Blonde with long and silky hair, crystal-clear eyes, wide and sincere smile. She seemed almost a girl yet. She transmitted innocence and peace. I always remember the first time I crossed paths with her. Good morning, sir, she said. I laughed and told her something like I had added several years to my age for free. Then I saw her white teeth framed in that pink mouth, shining with lipstick, and forming the most beautiful smile I ever saw. I remember the impact of surprise and the magnetism caused by seeing her gaze of large and clear green eyes. I remember how she narrowed them for an instant when smiling, and the desperation that hit my chest for wanting to see them open again, looking at me.
It wasn't much more than that our encounter, but thinking about her, I remember her like this, dressed in that intense-toned dress that conformed to pressure over the outline of her hips, molding her waist and squeezing and emphasizing her breasts, while at the height of her thighs, the fabric, looser there, was liberated by the wind's sway, baring her tormented legs almost down to her underwear. That image occupied a large part of my mind that day and the following days.
I had the pleasure of... crossing her in those times. And I say liking because, really, Rocío, is a sweet and affectionate person. Quite centered and pure in her way of thinking, which generated some strangeness for me when trying to imagine how she had ended up with my neighbor Hernán, who was irresponsible. Well, God sometimes moves in mysterious ways.
In one of those conversations we had, I noticed she was interested in several of the activities that concern me and we exchanged social media links. So, I can assure you that Rocío is not like other women who hung around my neighbor. In her photos on social media, there's proof. Yes, there are photos of her in tiny shorts, where very little skin is covered, but always in a summer situation. Not like the others who don't hesitate to upload images in underwear so anyone can see them. Neither does she have those selfies sticking out her tongue or touching her mouth with her finger or teeth that many other friends of Hernán use as their profile picture. She doesn't. Her profile picture shines with her radiant eyes and highlights her pristine smile. Although she wears bold dresses, she's modest. It shows. What doesn't prevent you from seeing her beauty. On the contrary, it enhances it. Makes her even prettier.
There's a time for everything. I learned that as a kid and confirmed it over the years. The obsession with Rocío (that precious and small girl who was in a relationship with my neighbor Hernán, that one who, despite the notable age difference that separated us, absurdly took possession of my thoughts), I detected her on time, and deduced that it couldn't last. Not for me. For someone like me, with feet firmly planted on the ground and eyes fixed on the sky.
My wife, my children, my activities, and commitments to society are a priority.
After several months, I found out about her pregnancy and her move to the apartment upstairs. The feeling was ambiguous. On one hand, I was happy to have her close (I consider her a '... valuable, with potential), besides this situation meant a new life for Hernán, an opportunity where he could finally mature to the height of a person in accordance with his age. On the other hand, I felt certain inexplicable unease. Maybe it was intuition that things might not turn out as perfect as my sincere desire for both... In the end, time passed and the couple looked fine. She, beautiful as always, carried her belly, growing bigger every day, with ease and grace. It was a delight to admire that young skin, bright and soft, increasing in volume, housing the miracle of life within it. Situations began soon after the baby was born. First were light disagreements, where one or the other would occasionally raise their voice. Everything seemed to indicate that something wasn't right there. The exciting shouts we used to hear through those walls were replaced by strong discussions, sometimes loaded with insults, which didn't always make clear who was right. The rhythm and volume of those complaints grew in tandem with the baby. Sometimes, after a couple of days of peace, they would come back at it with more intensity. This situation had my wife and me down. But what could we do in situations like this? Even though they were our neighbors, they weren't our friends. We couldn't just go up to them and tell them that we knew everything they said to each other because it was a bit invasive of their privacy. There was no other option but to pray and hope the situation would improve in the best possible way. But this wouldn't let me sleep peacefully. Late at night, I'd hear my neighbor scolding his partner almost daily. I remember that one time when anger was because, apparently, she hadn't worn a bra under her clothes that afternoon, and he, who had received some visiting friends, accused her of having walked too freely around the house, revealing her nipples, which were... transparenting for beneath the worn clothes, in plain sight of anyone. She treated her as easy, like a warm blanket, like wanting to get up and join her friends. She was crying and defending herself What do you want me to do? I'm breastfeeding... I couldn't take a position in that discussion. Really, imagining those breasts, large on their own, increased in size by generating cum, with nipples also grown and formed by the situation, pressing against an almost translucent fabric that can't hide them (perhaps even wetting it), is something that can excite any man without self-esteem. I imagine my neighbor's distress, but I also understand that when breastfeeding, being ready and prepared is necessary. In short, I couldn't take a position... There were many discussions like this. He always reproached her for something and hinted that she was really a slut. It hurt me to hear him talking to her like that. She always cried. To my understanding, he didn't know how to carry out the role that had been assigned to him and missed the easy life of being able to be with whoever he wanted, whenever he wanted. In some way, he blamed her for getting pregnant unexpectedly and forcing this unexpected cohabitation... That was what had really changed his life. He probably felt invaded in his own home.
The truth was that I didn't have any reason to doubt her outbursts. What did I really know about Rocío? And if it was true that she was looking for a fool to get pregnant and secure a place to live? Why didn't she just leave? Why did she put up with that abuse?
Anyway, every time I heard her crying at night, my heart would break. Many things went through my mind... But everything fell into place one Saturday night when I listened to them argue again.
As always, some situation generated during dinner, with his friends invited to dinner, motivated him to call her a slut and wanting cock. When, for first time I heard her defending herself to herself, I sharpened my ear to listen to her well. - Of course I have a desire for cock. - said taken out- If you make months that you don't get me! I'm dying of desire for cock... But I won't go looking around elsewhere. Much less to your friends. I don't know how you do it, you must be getting some other woman somewhere, but I'm not. I spend the whole day taking care of the baby, almost never sleep at night... And despite the tiredness... Look! Don't you see...? Don't you see the thong I put on today, after 8 months? I put it on for you! For fuck with you! Look at me! Look at my hot pussy that's hot! Of course I want to fuck. But you prefer to be a jerk and accuse me of wanting to pick up your friends so I don't have to get it... That followed a total silence. Next to me, my wife was sleeping without realizing anything. Already I could imagine her telling me how easy and liberal it had been, also the neighbor, if she had heard what she said.
In a moment, since he didn't get an answer, he listened to her say: - You're a son of a slut. Not even able to look at me. Why did I put myself through these three months in the gym to recover my body, eh? Why? What's wrong with you? Don't you like me anymore? Look at my breasts. Look at them, jerk! Are you going to tell me you don't want to suck them? Look how they're not just for nursing the baby. I also need them to be eaten with passion, to be sucked well... Look at my Booty... What's wrong? Don't you want to put it in anymore? I'm 20 years old! It's still tight! Answer me!... Let me at least suck your cock. Let me, come on...
You could hear a struggle and his voice saying: Stop! You're crazy! I don't want it! Cut it off! And things like that.
As every night, after an instant of silence, you could hear Rocío's crying.
It was then that I decided to advise them, even though they hadn't asked me. The long years of life and experience that I had, instilled in correction and pity, had to serve for something.
It was Sunday and we were... preparing, as always, to go to church with my family. I had put on my suit and one of my best shirts, was tying my tie. As I left, I found Hernán at the street door, smoking. Just a glance at my wife was enough for her to understand that I would take some time to talk to him. She left with the kids and I stayed chatting with the neighbor. I was feeling sensitive and it didn't cost me much to bring up the topic. When people need to talk, a willing ear is enough to unburden...
Soon I found out about his sense of suffocation, the lack of desire he had to keep living this life he hadn't sought. And that somehow he understood that things were slipping away from him. He told me that with Rocío they argued about everything. That now, for example, he had given up meeting his friends to play ball and have a barbecue at a country house, just so she wouldn't get upset later.
I stopped him there. I noticed he was anguished. I explained to him that couple things are like this. Difficult. There's a time for everything. Even if he was now a father, it didn't mean he wasn't still a friend or fulfilling any other role in his life. If the situation was suffocating him, the best thing he could do was take some distance, allow himself some quiet time. I encouraged him to go with his friends. I assured him that after having spent a relaxing day, he would come back with a renewed vision. With new airs, to make decisions. Whatever those decisions might be. That the time being a father and partner shouldn't take away his own leisure and friendship time, under no circumstances.
His face relaxed as the conversation went on. Soon I understood that he was agreeing with me. He nodded his head at each of my sentences.
I left him alone to think but didn't go too far yet, in case he needed my advice. I decided to go back home and wait a prudent time.
Once inside, I headed straight for my room to listen to the conversation on the other side of the wall, that of my... words had motivated, and pray for them. In the midst of my supplications I heard them discuss. She really didn't want him to leave, had planned to remove the crib from the room to recover intimacy in bed. He gave her little space for her complaints and ended up slamming the door, saying: we'll follow at night... Again my neighbor's sobs dominated the scene. My heart, shattered with pain, prayed for her well-being and, in an attempt to make it easier on myself, I decided to head to the door of the apartment ahead.
After making sure Hernán had indeed left, I touched the bell.
Beautiful, as she was, Rocío opened the door, despite her compunged face and tear-stained cheeks, she smiled at me with that tender smile of hers...
She looked like she'd just gotten up, wearing a worn-out sweater (which really showed off the shape of her breasts) and a short, lightweight skirt where you could see the edge of a rather small underwear peeking out...
After the smile, I could see her face of surprise or confusion when I appeared on the other side of the door.
I asked about the baby and she told me that at this hour in the morning and after a night of very bad sleep, she had just managed to put him to sleep, hoping that luck would be with her for two or three hours free.
I apologized for disturbing her and decided to be frank and direct with my intentions. I explained that I was aware of the couple's disagreements and if it wasn't too much trouble, I'd like to talk to her...
I asked if she wouldn't invite me something to drink while we chatted, before she could react and refuse my help, I entered the house and sat down on her sofa.
She, not understanding what was happening, told me she hadn't prepared anything... - Don't worry. Come sit down. Let's talk.
Rocío sat in the center of the sofa, with me a meter away from her. - Come closer. Be afraid... She was obeying me automatically, it seemed she had no will or was very confused by the unexpected situation. I explained to her that I had been an unintentional witness to her discussions with Hernán. She blushed at first but, like him, after listening to her problems, I managed to get her to open up. I held her hand between mine. She was really anguished, poor angel, over the situations Hernán made her live through.
I talked to her about what's important in a couple: being able to contain oneself and help each other, complementing each other in every need of life, one for the other. I told her that there's a time for everything and that being a mother shouldn't take away from her time as a woman.
She soon confessed the things she was missing. The ones she felt Hernán didn't complement. She spoke about the lack of help with the baby, how he spent most of his time outside the house and when he was home, he came with friends or was in a bad mood. That she didn't feel loved. That not even appreciated for the tremendous effort she made every day at home... - And as a woman? I interrupted her and asked directly, so we wouldn't keep going on about incongruous complaints.
She seemed to not understand the question. - I mean, as a woman. How are you? Have you recovered your intimacy as a woman after having the baby? Not talking about the mother, who must be what takes up most of your time these days. I'm talking about you, Rocío, woman. Your body... Do you know? It's very important to recover your physical autonomy. To recover it and enjoy... She lowered her head and admitted in a low voice: Nothing... - But... How? Doesn't Hernán seek you out? It's the man's job to make sure the woman recovers that part of her life. - No, Hernán seems not interested in that... At least with me...
With one hand stroking the sofa cushion, her knees almost touching, giving the impression of how they had been for the past few months. I squeezed her hand tighter. She held on to me. She looked at me straight. I looked at her too. - Do you know? There's a time for everything in life. Your time to be a woman and enjoy your body is a gift from God. You can't waste that just because some idiot doesn't appreciate the beauty of your being or is confused. After all the sacrifices you make, you owe yourself that gift...
Despite not taking my eyes off hers, I soon noticed two things: her nipples hardened, piercing the sweater and her knees, which were pressed tightly together, relaxed. - I'm a big man. Mature. I have experience in these matters...- I said to her as I moved my hand to her cheek and caressed it- Let yourself go... You'll see how you'll recover your self-esteem after this...
She seemed confused. Hot, yes. But not sure enough to take the next step. I caressed her cheeks with both hands, went down along her neckline, shoulders, and ended up taking her breasts. They were big and heavy. I squeezed them. She let out a scream, but she looked immobile, unsure. I lifted her sweater and admired those precious breasts, wet, shiny, and those big nipples, pointed. She remained still. I stood up and said to her as I unzipped my pants: - Honey, did you want cock? Here's your cock! I pulled it out, already hard, and brought it close to her face, which had come to that height. I put it between her mouth and nose. Her testicles ended up on her chin. I pressed her against her face. She didn't move, but she didn't open her mouth. Olela I said and brought the tip of my cock to her nostrils, putting a little bit in each hole. My cock, overflowing with heat, moistened the corner of her mouth a little. Look at me I said. She looked at me. Open your mouth and suck my cock...
I was getting a bit annoyed that she was being shy when I knew what she wanted. I thought about my wife, who had never tasted the flavor of my cock and would be waiting for me in church, singing praises. Go ahead, honey. Don't have all... day... I forced it a bit but managed to get it in her mouth. She sucked, first timidly, but then resolutely. Soon she was licking the whole trunk, even taking her testicles into her mouth. Do you like it? No? Slut! You love...! Enjoy the cock. Enjoy it! From her ears I grabbed and buried the cock to the bottom. I felt the blow that hit her throat and the arch that caused it. Seeing her green eyes reddened ensnared me. Three or four more times I buried the whole cock in her mouth, each time for longer. I saw the accumulated saliva on her chin dripping onto her breasts that released cum by the moment, in bursts. Do you like my cock, beautiful? Do you like...? I said when I knew she couldn't answer because of the sensation of choking it caused. The short and thong I ripped off with a tug, tearing the fabric. That very slut had her pussy open and wet. You really needed cock... I said and couldn't help but bend down and bury my face between her legs. I shook my head until I managed to sink my nose into that viscous and delicious pussy. She let me do it. I lapped up her juices with a madness I didn't know, my wife barely accepts being touched in the area. I brought my tongue and nose, penetrating her with them, as far as I could. I think she came more than once. Little did I care, I was absorbed in what I was doing. When I reacted, I heard her screaming fuck me, fuck me...please, put your cock in... I reclined on top of her and penetrated her like that, without protection. I felt the heat of her internal vaginal canal. While I was thrusting and listening to her enjoy herself, I stopped to kiss her breasts. Warm cum jets hit my face. With force, I squeezed those nipples wanting to empty them into my mouth, never having managed to do so with my wife. After hearing her come and feeling that the poronga no longer responded to excitement, I pulled out the cock and, still flowing, put it in her mouth and ordered her to suck me off now. She... She didn't delay in sucking it this time. Seeing her like that, beautiful as always, with that innocent face and so slutty as I imagined, got me out of my wits. She was licking the head of my cock with desperation, when the first shot, a thick one, fell under her nose. Soon the second scored her cheek. She reacted and took the whole cock in her mouth. Three or four more discharges launched directly into the interior of her mouth. I stared at her fixedly, the daughter of a slut. With two fingers, I joined the cum that marked her face and put it in her mouth. She cleaned my fingers thoroughly, giving me that smile I so well knew. Is this yummy? I asked with sincere curiosity, it was the first woman to taste the flavor of my semen. She nodded. I reclined on top of her and kissed her. We kissed. It was like the first kisses of my life, full of heat and desire. Still agitated by the sequence of orgasms, she told me: Thanks. I needed this. At that moment, a miracle occurred, without a doubt a blessing in recognition of the good deed committed: I discovered that despite having just finished, my cock was still erect and hard. Without hesitation, as we were lying there, I turned her over and started looking for the hole of her ass. That fat and hard butt. She wanted to stop me but I didn't let her. With one arm, I held her back, with the other hand, I supported the head of my cock and pressed, but nothing was happening. She was telling me No. No. Wait... But I wasn't listening. I gathered saliva in my hand and massaged her ass until I managed to get the tip of a finger in. The cock pulsating hot, burned me, urged me on. I forced it a bit and got one finger to the bottom. She screamed. Then she spat at my hand and lubricated it again. When the finger entered easily, I put two in. I liked seeing her suffer. It was, a little, a lesson, a punishment, for having yielded so easily to the passions of the body. The cries she gave had already woken up the baby. I didn't want to delay anymore. Barely managed to get two fingers in, I filled my cock with s saliva and I pushed it up her ass. It cost a lot. A lot. But once the head went in, the push all the way to the bottom was easy, at least for me. The feeling of being squeezed was incredible. I think I didn't feel that kind of pressure when I lost my virginity to my wife, many years ago already, had felt that kind of pressure on my cock. She held it with both arms. Of course, she was screaming that it hurt or something and wouldn't stop twisting around, but I didn't care much. In fact, I think if that feeling of pressure over my cock hadn't made me cum the moment I pushed her in, it would have been because of her screams. I liked hearing them. I knew them from the other side of the wall. I liked being the one who generated them.
Anyway, I was careful. I moved slowly so as not to hurt her at first. Then I realized that the thrusts were bestial. When the baby's cries demanding his mother in the other room equalized in volume with Rocío's screams, I decided to give it a good cum right inside and let her go attend to him. In the end, you have to understand that there is a time and place for everything. I watched her walk away slowly, hurt, squirting out cum from her ass, which was flowing down her legs in rivulets. Her entire body was bathed in a mixture of our sweat and the food that had burst forth from her breasts, taking on her role as mother.
That Sunday, even though I arrived late to church, I had much to be grateful for.
To this day. Although months have passed since that situation, the neighbors are still together and we can still hear them arguing on the other side of the wall. Of course, when things get intense, I make a hole in my agitated agenda and go advise my neighbor who always receives me with such a sweet smile. All for the sake of that couple... Thanks for reading to the end. If you arrived here and something generated this story, I think it's worth a comment from your part. Download peacefully below. More stories: search here on poringa @martinfcd
About certain situations in life, it's hard to form an opinion or take a stance. I'll tell you what happened and you can draw your own conclusions. You're free to leave your vision in the comments. The neighborhood where I live is a typical Buenos Aires neighborhood that strays a bit from the bustling city center (I don't want to give too much away, you'll understand why). The area is mostly composed of houses that don't exceed two floors, some buildings with no more than 4 floors and many properties located through a corridor, roughly long, that accommodates 3, 4 or sometimes more consecutive apartments.
In an apartment like this (the second one from the street) I live comfortably, along with my beautiful wife and children. A small one and two in school age. I say my beautiful wife because I feel that way, despite the years we've been together. Strong woman, direct. She manages her life and things with determination. Never doubts. Always has a precise answer for each thing. Never makes a mistake. It's really admirable.
Years haven't made her any worse. Her attractiveness is still intact. To this day, her elegant walk represents an opportunity for rough walkers to indulge themselves, both when she comes and goes. And despite the times of change we live in, she always runs into some improvised street poet who defines with words more or less coarse what my wife's physical appearance awakens in him.
Excuse me if I don't describe her with greater details. I consider my wife something sacred, not mine to possess but rather a part of my privacy. Besides, it's not about her the history. I must also clarify that if you haven't noticed yet, I am a person formed in values that many people today call old-fashioned or outdated. Father of the family, exemplary husband, unconditional friend, honorable member of the school cooperative and club leadership where my children attend, etc. These activities and my performance in them are what best define me. Additionally, by personal belief, faith, and taste, I attend church every Sunday and on holidays. Not just as a listener, but I also occasionally offer to help with whatever is needed. Over time, although I didn't pursue a religious career, I became a reference point, a pillar of the congregation. Many see me as a person whose advice is valid and encouraging in complicated situations of their life. Up until now, I've talked about myself. Now I'll start telling you what happened. As I said, I live in the second apartment on the hallway. The third apartment lives a large, single woman who very occasionally receives some family visits. The fourth apartment has been empty for a long time and is at the end of the hall. And ahead, in the first apartment, Hernán lives. Well, not just Hernán. His wife or girlfriend, I'm not sure what to call her, Rocío, also lives there. They've only been together for a few months, but they already cohabitate and have a six-month-old child. Maybe that's the real reason for their hasty living arrangement. I've known Hernán for many years. Since I moved into this house. He was Zulma, the owner of the apartment, son when I met him. At the time, he was married but surprisingly in the process of separation due to his young age. So, over time, he moved ahead with his mother until she passed away (life's things) and he ended up being the owner of his own space where he could fully enjoy his regained bachelorhood. I saw many girls pass through that apartment. Many very well-formed ones. Really, Hernán had converted into the envy of everyone who likes to spend their life exploring the delights of female company without commitment. Wasting his days vainly possessing the bodies of those women with the most varied and extravagant forms. Devouring those young and beautiful bodies until he's sick of them, then discarding them to satisfy his thirst in another body of equal or greater voluptuousness, or perhaps seeking less experienced skins, who knows? Many went through that department. I crossed paths with some on my way out to work one morning. I've seen their faces and bodies, and I have to admit that I felt pity for most of them. Pity for seeing these girls with such beautiful figures and bearing, wasting the most valuable moment of their youth. It seemed as if they were willing to surrender to the neglect provided by my neighbor. Pity for seeing their tired faces after a night full of luxury, without direction... Many nights we've listened to my wife and me through the walls, cries and moans of various kinds that came from the house next door, more or less loud until our ears. That was a situation that sometimes made us laugh, sometimes infuriated us, and sometimes (why not admit it? after all, we live our happiness as a couple in the way that corresponds) stimulated us. I mean, it raised the necessary candor to enjoy our bodies with passion. But always with respect and responsibility, with affection and mutual containment. Of course, very different from what was heard on the other side of the wall, where things were developing. My wife, always accurate, would comment about the sadness that generated in her the senselessness with which my neighbor lived his life, the reproachable liberality of his 'little friends' (most didn't last long and were generally unpleasant, shameless people). How good it would be for Hernán to find... Someone to sit with my head... Opinions like these, filled with wisdom, were common in my wife. Not just about the neighbor: about everything. All day. I always admired her eloquence and ability to express, to each situation that presented itself, her opinion so full of goodness and precision.
Of course, not all the women who passed through my neighbor's department generated rejection or antipathy. For example, with Rocío, the current partner, it was different from the start. She was different. I'm not just referring to her physical condition, which, like most of Hernán's friends, generates an immediate visual admiration. Her beauty is not limited only to her evident large and harmonious curves, but also to her character, her sympathy. Blonde with long and silky hair, crystal-clear eyes, wide and sincere smile. She seemed almost a girl yet. She transmitted innocence and peace. I always remember the first time I crossed paths with her. Good morning, sir, she said. I laughed and told her something like I had added several years to my age for free. Then I saw her white teeth framed in that pink mouth, shining with lipstick, and forming the most beautiful smile I ever saw. I remember the impact of surprise and the magnetism caused by seeing her gaze of large and clear green eyes. I remember how she narrowed them for an instant when smiling, and the desperation that hit my chest for wanting to see them open again, looking at me.
It wasn't much more than that our encounter, but thinking about her, I remember her like this, dressed in that intense-toned dress that conformed to pressure over the outline of her hips, molding her waist and squeezing and emphasizing her breasts, while at the height of her thighs, the fabric, looser there, was liberated by the wind's sway, baring her tormented legs almost down to her underwear. That image occupied a large part of my mind that day and the following days.
I had the pleasure of... crossing her in those times. And I say liking because, really, Rocío, is a sweet and affectionate person. Quite centered and pure in her way of thinking, which generated some strangeness for me when trying to imagine how she had ended up with my neighbor Hernán, who was irresponsible. Well, God sometimes moves in mysterious ways.
In one of those conversations we had, I noticed she was interested in several of the activities that concern me and we exchanged social media links. So, I can assure you that Rocío is not like other women who hung around my neighbor. In her photos on social media, there's proof. Yes, there are photos of her in tiny shorts, where very little skin is covered, but always in a summer situation. Not like the others who don't hesitate to upload images in underwear so anyone can see them. Neither does she have those selfies sticking out her tongue or touching her mouth with her finger or teeth that many other friends of Hernán use as their profile picture. She doesn't. Her profile picture shines with her radiant eyes and highlights her pristine smile. Although she wears bold dresses, she's modest. It shows. What doesn't prevent you from seeing her beauty. On the contrary, it enhances it. Makes her even prettier.
There's a time for everything. I learned that as a kid and confirmed it over the years. The obsession with Rocío (that precious and small girl who was in a relationship with my neighbor Hernán, that one who, despite the notable age difference that separated us, absurdly took possession of my thoughts), I detected her on time, and deduced that it couldn't last. Not for me. For someone like me, with feet firmly planted on the ground and eyes fixed on the sky.
My wife, my children, my activities, and commitments to society are a priority.
After several months, I found out about her pregnancy and her move to the apartment upstairs. The feeling was ambiguous. On one hand, I was happy to have her close (I consider her a '... valuable, with potential), besides this situation meant a new life for Hernán, an opportunity where he could finally mature to the height of a person in accordance with his age. On the other hand, I felt certain inexplicable unease. Maybe it was intuition that things might not turn out as perfect as my sincere desire for both... In the end, time passed and the couple looked fine. She, beautiful as always, carried her belly, growing bigger every day, with ease and grace. It was a delight to admire that young skin, bright and soft, increasing in volume, housing the miracle of life within it. Situations began soon after the baby was born. First were light disagreements, where one or the other would occasionally raise their voice. Everything seemed to indicate that something wasn't right there. The exciting shouts we used to hear through those walls were replaced by strong discussions, sometimes loaded with insults, which didn't always make clear who was right. The rhythm and volume of those complaints grew in tandem with the baby. Sometimes, after a couple of days of peace, they would come back at it with more intensity. This situation had my wife and me down. But what could we do in situations like this? Even though they were our neighbors, they weren't our friends. We couldn't just go up to them and tell them that we knew everything they said to each other because it was a bit invasive of their privacy. There was no other option but to pray and hope the situation would improve in the best possible way. But this wouldn't let me sleep peacefully. Late at night, I'd hear my neighbor scolding his partner almost daily. I remember that one time when anger was because, apparently, she hadn't worn a bra under her clothes that afternoon, and he, who had received some visiting friends, accused her of having walked too freely around the house, revealing her nipples, which were... transparenting for beneath the worn clothes, in plain sight of anyone. She treated her as easy, like a warm blanket, like wanting to get up and join her friends. She was crying and defending herself What do you want me to do? I'm breastfeeding... I couldn't take a position in that discussion. Really, imagining those breasts, large on their own, increased in size by generating cum, with nipples also grown and formed by the situation, pressing against an almost translucent fabric that can't hide them (perhaps even wetting it), is something that can excite any man without self-esteem. I imagine my neighbor's distress, but I also understand that when breastfeeding, being ready and prepared is necessary. In short, I couldn't take a position... There were many discussions like this. He always reproached her for something and hinted that she was really a slut. It hurt me to hear him talking to her like that. She always cried. To my understanding, he didn't know how to carry out the role that had been assigned to him and missed the easy life of being able to be with whoever he wanted, whenever he wanted. In some way, he blamed her for getting pregnant unexpectedly and forcing this unexpected cohabitation... That was what had really changed his life. He probably felt invaded in his own home.
The truth was that I didn't have any reason to doubt her outbursts. What did I really know about Rocío? And if it was true that she was looking for a fool to get pregnant and secure a place to live? Why didn't she just leave? Why did she put up with that abuse?
Anyway, every time I heard her crying at night, my heart would break. Many things went through my mind... But everything fell into place one Saturday night when I listened to them argue again.
As always, some situation generated during dinner, with his friends invited to dinner, motivated him to call her a slut and wanting cock. When, for first time I heard her defending herself to herself, I sharpened my ear to listen to her well. - Of course I have a desire for cock. - said taken out- If you make months that you don't get me! I'm dying of desire for cock... But I won't go looking around elsewhere. Much less to your friends. I don't know how you do it, you must be getting some other woman somewhere, but I'm not. I spend the whole day taking care of the baby, almost never sleep at night... And despite the tiredness... Look! Don't you see...? Don't you see the thong I put on today, after 8 months? I put it on for you! For fuck with you! Look at me! Look at my hot pussy that's hot! Of course I want to fuck. But you prefer to be a jerk and accuse me of wanting to pick up your friends so I don't have to get it... That followed a total silence. Next to me, my wife was sleeping without realizing anything. Already I could imagine her telling me how easy and liberal it had been, also the neighbor, if she had heard what she said.
In a moment, since he didn't get an answer, he listened to her say: - You're a son of a slut. Not even able to look at me. Why did I put myself through these three months in the gym to recover my body, eh? Why? What's wrong with you? Don't you like me anymore? Look at my breasts. Look at them, jerk! Are you going to tell me you don't want to suck them? Look how they're not just for nursing the baby. I also need them to be eaten with passion, to be sucked well... Look at my Booty... What's wrong? Don't you want to put it in anymore? I'm 20 years old! It's still tight! Answer me!... Let me at least suck your cock. Let me, come on...
You could hear a struggle and his voice saying: Stop! You're crazy! I don't want it! Cut it off! And things like that.
As every night, after an instant of silence, you could hear Rocío's crying.
It was then that I decided to advise them, even though they hadn't asked me. The long years of life and experience that I had, instilled in correction and pity, had to serve for something.
It was Sunday and we were... preparing, as always, to go to church with my family. I had put on my suit and one of my best shirts, was tying my tie. As I left, I found Hernán at the street door, smoking. Just a glance at my wife was enough for her to understand that I would take some time to talk to him. She left with the kids and I stayed chatting with the neighbor. I was feeling sensitive and it didn't cost me much to bring up the topic. When people need to talk, a willing ear is enough to unburden...
Soon I found out about his sense of suffocation, the lack of desire he had to keep living this life he hadn't sought. And that somehow he understood that things were slipping away from him. He told me that with Rocío they argued about everything. That now, for example, he had given up meeting his friends to play ball and have a barbecue at a country house, just so she wouldn't get upset later.
I stopped him there. I noticed he was anguished. I explained to him that couple things are like this. Difficult. There's a time for everything. Even if he was now a father, it didn't mean he wasn't still a friend or fulfilling any other role in his life. If the situation was suffocating him, the best thing he could do was take some distance, allow himself some quiet time. I encouraged him to go with his friends. I assured him that after having spent a relaxing day, he would come back with a renewed vision. With new airs, to make decisions. Whatever those decisions might be. That the time being a father and partner shouldn't take away his own leisure and friendship time, under no circumstances.
His face relaxed as the conversation went on. Soon I understood that he was agreeing with me. He nodded his head at each of my sentences.
I left him alone to think but didn't go too far yet, in case he needed my advice. I decided to go back home and wait a prudent time.
Once inside, I headed straight for my room to listen to the conversation on the other side of the wall, that of my... words had motivated, and pray for them. In the midst of my supplications I heard them discuss. She really didn't want him to leave, had planned to remove the crib from the room to recover intimacy in bed. He gave her little space for her complaints and ended up slamming the door, saying: we'll follow at night... Again my neighbor's sobs dominated the scene. My heart, shattered with pain, prayed for her well-being and, in an attempt to make it easier on myself, I decided to head to the door of the apartment ahead.
After making sure Hernán had indeed left, I touched the bell.
Beautiful, as she was, Rocío opened the door, despite her compunged face and tear-stained cheeks, she smiled at me with that tender smile of hers...
She looked like she'd just gotten up, wearing a worn-out sweater (which really showed off the shape of her breasts) and a short, lightweight skirt where you could see the edge of a rather small underwear peeking out...
After the smile, I could see her face of surprise or confusion when I appeared on the other side of the door.
I asked about the baby and she told me that at this hour in the morning and after a night of very bad sleep, she had just managed to put him to sleep, hoping that luck would be with her for two or three hours free.
I apologized for disturbing her and decided to be frank and direct with my intentions. I explained that I was aware of the couple's disagreements and if it wasn't too much trouble, I'd like to talk to her...
I asked if she wouldn't invite me something to drink while we chatted, before she could react and refuse my help, I entered the house and sat down on her sofa.
She, not understanding what was happening, told me she hadn't prepared anything... - Don't worry. Come sit down. Let's talk.
Rocío sat in the center of the sofa, with me a meter away from her. - Come closer. Be afraid... She was obeying me automatically, it seemed she had no will or was very confused by the unexpected situation. I explained to her that I had been an unintentional witness to her discussions with Hernán. She blushed at first but, like him, after listening to her problems, I managed to get her to open up. I held her hand between mine. She was really anguished, poor angel, over the situations Hernán made her live through.
I talked to her about what's important in a couple: being able to contain oneself and help each other, complementing each other in every need of life, one for the other. I told her that there's a time for everything and that being a mother shouldn't take away from her time as a woman.
She soon confessed the things she was missing. The ones she felt Hernán didn't complement. She spoke about the lack of help with the baby, how he spent most of his time outside the house and when he was home, he came with friends or was in a bad mood. That she didn't feel loved. That not even appreciated for the tremendous effort she made every day at home... - And as a woman? I interrupted her and asked directly, so we wouldn't keep going on about incongruous complaints.
She seemed to not understand the question. - I mean, as a woman. How are you? Have you recovered your intimacy as a woman after having the baby? Not talking about the mother, who must be what takes up most of your time these days. I'm talking about you, Rocío, woman. Your body... Do you know? It's very important to recover your physical autonomy. To recover it and enjoy... She lowered her head and admitted in a low voice: Nothing... - But... How? Doesn't Hernán seek you out? It's the man's job to make sure the woman recovers that part of her life. - No, Hernán seems not interested in that... At least with me...
With one hand stroking the sofa cushion, her knees almost touching, giving the impression of how they had been for the past few months. I squeezed her hand tighter. She held on to me. She looked at me straight. I looked at her too. - Do you know? There's a time for everything in life. Your time to be a woman and enjoy your body is a gift from God. You can't waste that just because some idiot doesn't appreciate the beauty of your being or is confused. After all the sacrifices you make, you owe yourself that gift...
Despite not taking my eyes off hers, I soon noticed two things: her nipples hardened, piercing the sweater and her knees, which were pressed tightly together, relaxed. - I'm a big man. Mature. I have experience in these matters...- I said to her as I moved my hand to her cheek and caressed it- Let yourself go... You'll see how you'll recover your self-esteem after this...
She seemed confused. Hot, yes. But not sure enough to take the next step. I caressed her cheeks with both hands, went down along her neckline, shoulders, and ended up taking her breasts. They were big and heavy. I squeezed them. She let out a scream, but she looked immobile, unsure. I lifted her sweater and admired those precious breasts, wet, shiny, and those big nipples, pointed. She remained still. I stood up and said to her as I unzipped my pants: - Honey, did you want cock? Here's your cock! I pulled it out, already hard, and brought it close to her face, which had come to that height. I put it between her mouth and nose. Her testicles ended up on her chin. I pressed her against her face. She didn't move, but she didn't open her mouth. Olela I said and brought the tip of my cock to her nostrils, putting a little bit in each hole. My cock, overflowing with heat, moistened the corner of her mouth a little. Look at me I said. She looked at me. Open your mouth and suck my cock...
I was getting a bit annoyed that she was being shy when I knew what she wanted. I thought about my wife, who had never tasted the flavor of my cock and would be waiting for me in church, singing praises. Go ahead, honey. Don't have all... day... I forced it a bit but managed to get it in her mouth. She sucked, first timidly, but then resolutely. Soon she was licking the whole trunk, even taking her testicles into her mouth. Do you like it? No? Slut! You love...! Enjoy the cock. Enjoy it! From her ears I grabbed and buried the cock to the bottom. I felt the blow that hit her throat and the arch that caused it. Seeing her green eyes reddened ensnared me. Three or four more times I buried the whole cock in her mouth, each time for longer. I saw the accumulated saliva on her chin dripping onto her breasts that released cum by the moment, in bursts. Do you like my cock, beautiful? Do you like...? I said when I knew she couldn't answer because of the sensation of choking it caused. The short and thong I ripped off with a tug, tearing the fabric. That very slut had her pussy open and wet. You really needed cock... I said and couldn't help but bend down and bury my face between her legs. I shook my head until I managed to sink my nose into that viscous and delicious pussy. She let me do it. I lapped up her juices with a madness I didn't know, my wife barely accepts being touched in the area. I brought my tongue and nose, penetrating her with them, as far as I could. I think she came more than once. Little did I care, I was absorbed in what I was doing. When I reacted, I heard her screaming fuck me, fuck me...please, put your cock in... I reclined on top of her and penetrated her like that, without protection. I felt the heat of her internal vaginal canal. While I was thrusting and listening to her enjoy herself, I stopped to kiss her breasts. Warm cum jets hit my face. With force, I squeezed those nipples wanting to empty them into my mouth, never having managed to do so with my wife. After hearing her come and feeling that the poronga no longer responded to excitement, I pulled out the cock and, still flowing, put it in her mouth and ordered her to suck me off now. She... She didn't delay in sucking it this time. Seeing her like that, beautiful as always, with that innocent face and so slutty as I imagined, got me out of my wits. She was licking the head of my cock with desperation, when the first shot, a thick one, fell under her nose. Soon the second scored her cheek. She reacted and took the whole cock in her mouth. Three or four more discharges launched directly into the interior of her mouth. I stared at her fixedly, the daughter of a slut. With two fingers, I joined the cum that marked her face and put it in her mouth. She cleaned my fingers thoroughly, giving me that smile I so well knew. Is this yummy? I asked with sincere curiosity, it was the first woman to taste the flavor of my semen. She nodded. I reclined on top of her and kissed her. We kissed. It was like the first kisses of my life, full of heat and desire. Still agitated by the sequence of orgasms, she told me: Thanks. I needed this. At that moment, a miracle occurred, without a doubt a blessing in recognition of the good deed committed: I discovered that despite having just finished, my cock was still erect and hard. Without hesitation, as we were lying there, I turned her over and started looking for the hole of her ass. That fat and hard butt. She wanted to stop me but I didn't let her. With one arm, I held her back, with the other hand, I supported the head of my cock and pressed, but nothing was happening. She was telling me No. No. Wait... But I wasn't listening. I gathered saliva in my hand and massaged her ass until I managed to get the tip of a finger in. The cock pulsating hot, burned me, urged me on. I forced it a bit and got one finger to the bottom. She screamed. Then she spat at my hand and lubricated it again. When the finger entered easily, I put two in. I liked seeing her suffer. It was, a little, a lesson, a punishment, for having yielded so easily to the passions of the body. The cries she gave had already woken up the baby. I didn't want to delay anymore. Barely managed to get two fingers in, I filled my cock with s saliva and I pushed it up her ass. It cost a lot. A lot. But once the head went in, the push all the way to the bottom was easy, at least for me. The feeling of being squeezed was incredible. I think I didn't feel that kind of pressure when I lost my virginity to my wife, many years ago already, had felt that kind of pressure on my cock. She held it with both arms. Of course, she was screaming that it hurt or something and wouldn't stop twisting around, but I didn't care much. In fact, I think if that feeling of pressure over my cock hadn't made me cum the moment I pushed her in, it would have been because of her screams. I liked hearing them. I knew them from the other side of the wall. I liked being the one who generated them.
Anyway, I was careful. I moved slowly so as not to hurt her at first. Then I realized that the thrusts were bestial. When the baby's cries demanding his mother in the other room equalized in volume with Rocío's screams, I decided to give it a good cum right inside and let her go attend to him. In the end, you have to understand that there is a time and place for everything. I watched her walk away slowly, hurt, squirting out cum from her ass, which was flowing down her legs in rivulets. Her entire body was bathed in a mixture of our sweat and the food that had burst forth from her breasts, taking on her role as mother.
That Sunday, even though I arrived late to church, I had much to be grateful for.
To this day. Although months have passed since that situation, the neighbors are still together and we can still hear them arguing on the other side of the wall. Of course, when things get intense, I make a hole in my agitated agenda and go advise my neighbor who always receives me with such a sweet smile. All for the sake of that couple... Thanks for reading to the end. If you arrived here and something generated this story, I think it's worth a comment from your part. Download peacefully below. More stories: search here on poringa @martinfcd
4 comentários - Mi vecino tiene una hermosa novia, pero soy casado...