I turned the key in the lock with stealth, barely opening the entrance door to the apartment and bringing my ear to the crack. I perceived sounds of humans reproducing and deduced that I could enter quietly: they wouldn't be paying attention. What was the point of entering? From logic, everything was more than clear: what I had supposed was happening. Morbidity overcame common sense.
I completed opening the door. By the provenance of the sighs, groans, exclamations, and vehement manifestations in loud voice of pleasure that I heard, I supposed, without possibility of error, that the action was taking place in the bedroom as I had supposed when deciding to spy. The curtains of the window in that room had been drawn.
I advanced enough steps to stand facing the hallway connecting the living room with that room. The door to the sector where towels are stored, covered internally with a mirror, had remained open and at the exact angle so that from my position I could take in a good portion of the bed.
The expression on Romina's face was revealing of her genuine and profound delight. No need to mention the ardent tremors of her body. I was surprised by how far her fervor went. She was making love as it is only possible to make it in an extreme situation (war, slow sinking 1000 km from the coast, proximity to collision with celestial body,...) with that feeling of perhaps never again this.
Ten centimeters higher was the shaved head, slightly bronzed skin, of the one she was taking, expertly judging by what I appreciated and heard. She was caressing his face with her right hand, fondling his left breast with it. The contrast between their skins was striking: ivory nipple, sun-kissed hand. Romina enjoys a lot with attentions on her bosom.
Their mouths joined in a deep kiss. It was evident that the individual had dissolved, there was communion, moments of contact. full. Of those that, I don't remember which writer said it: “Probably they are the only ones for whom it's worth living”. Ah, prudently, I backed off. Just like I saw what was happening in bed, from bed they could see me getting involved in something exclusive between them two. That half of them was my wife, didn't justify my interference. In love and sex there are no laws that apply or rules to respect. There are oaths but, maaaaaaaany of us are perjurers.
I thought, strangely, although I wasn't euphoric, I wasn't indignant nor did it hurt me that Romina was enjoying herself, as I remembered in the first times of our marriage, but not with me, rather with the dark-haired man who had appeared a couple of days earlier on the beach. Years ago, I would have had at least a bilious attack. I left my wife to her pleasant experience and went away to spend all the time I had estimated for her, which would last during my absence (see more later). In the car, since the day before, I had a little flag. I called the phone number. On the round of presentation of escorts, I chose a brunette, high, slender, and without silicone, I don't stand bought feminine attributes. I also wanted to entertain myself in black and white. Minutes later, the brunette sat down on the right armchair of the Chevrolet, and we set off towards a motel. Adriana turned out to be a hot Bahian with a barbaric wave when it came to intimacy. I couldn't help myself and, during the pause after the first screw, told her why I was with her: my wife was enjoying herself big time with someone else at that moment. Her comment was lapidary: “she must be looking outside for what she can't get at home”.
We got married, Romina and I, approximately 25 years ago (both of us are in the early stages of the second half of our 40s) and if it's still gratifying for me to make love to her, she had a desire very occasionally and When I accepted, she would settle for a little and classic (I suspect that she had not been satisfied for a long time). Obviously, the routine (and perhaps my clumsiness), was eroding her passion for me. Then she crossed the border in search of what her libido required.
What I'm relating happened on a Monday last summer at Bombinhas Beach in southern Brazil, where we have an apartment with a sea view. The previous Friday evening, seated by the sea, after bathing, with two glasses of drink, we saw him approach, wearing dark glasses and a beach chair in hand. He was walking as if stepping on springs. From him emanated the image of strength, of a man who uses his arms and sweats through his clothes. I could observe my wife looking at the newly arrived one, as if she couldn't take her eyes off him. Her eyes would lower from his head to his feet, passing over his chest: leather and steel under tension, the guitar strap belt, the rolled-up eel in his bathing slip, powerful thighs, and vice versa, rising from feet to head. In other words, she was scanning him, exploring him, lost in thought.
Suddenly, the mulatto stopped about two meters away from us, left the chair, and began a series of 10 or 20 push-ups. His arms lifted and lowered his chest, the clear betún-colored breast rubbed against the sand, and on his neck, a vein marked out an image that induced imagining a whirlwind of blood pumped by a Cyclopean heart.
As if propelled by a trampoline, the dark-skinned man suddenly jumped up and regained his vertical posture, smiling at us. Romina's gaze rose and fell, her cheeks flushed and her breasts agitated.
The man sat down and seemed only interested in the water, clouds, and horizon.
She was like in a trance, as if it didn't matter whether I or the other summer vacationers were there. With certainty, the mulatto with statue-like proportions and his silent smile were causing comezón in her lower regions unconsciously, one of his hands brushing against her pubic area.
The following days, we... and the dark-haired one, we chose the same locations on the beach. Saturday was filled with looks come and go from Romina with him. There were also fleeting exchanges of words. As said, the man had everything to attract feminine attention, I add that my wife is still very attractive: she preserves the exterior charm of her 30s, from the neck down, a beautiful and delicate face where years have not made their mark. Her long golden natural hair, smooth and well-cared-for to exaggeration, completes a specimen of an appetizing woman.
In the afternoon, I went up to the apartment for a few minutes to go to the bathroom. Before going back down, I looked out the balcony: Romina and the dark-haired one, each in their place, were conversing animatedly but trying to pass unnoticed or at least give a casual tone to what, given what had happened, was the special opening of chess: Objective: checkmate the queen that wants to be turned over.
On Sunday during lunch, I proposed to Romina: tomorrow afternoon I'm going to Itajaí to the Federal Revenue (the Brazilian AFIP) to see if they can solve my CPF problem and, on the way, I'll stop by to visit Ale. If you want, I'll leave you in the center so you can stroll around the shops quietly while the procedure and visit last . She was fascinated with strolling through stores and shop windows, normally she would have loved the proposal. It wasn't like that on this occasion: I don't want to, go ahead and after the procedure chat without hurry with your friend. The weather is so nice, I prefer staying at the beach. We'll have to go back home by the weekend anyway.
In reality, I had arranged it over the phone with Alejandro – an ex-colleague who had settled in Brazil - for Wednesday. With all bad intention and morbid curiosity, I invented a trip to Itajaí on Monday.
On Sunday afternoon, the beach and sea were very crowded. Disguised in the water, among the crowd bathing, I witnessed how Romina and the mulatto, exchanging, poorly disguised besides looks and words. I found out that she told him that the next day would have at least 3 hours free. At 2 pm on Monday, I said goodbye, took the car out of the garage, walked about 400 meters until I finally found a place to park. When I got back, Romina had already gone down to the beach and, now from another observation point, I saw how she had a discreet conversation with the man again. Just minutes later, no more than 15, my wife got up, took her purse and went back to the apartment building. I didn't wait to see what the man was doing, I positioned myself on the street from where I could see our bedroom window on the second floor. Half an hour later, the heavy opaque curtain (blackout) covered the window, ensuring the privacy of what was about to happen inside. The preliminaries had ended, Romina was surrendering to her fantasy. I waited a short time and, driven by compulsive morbidness, I put the key in the lock. When, late in the afternoon, I returned from my sexual entertainment payment, I told my wife that I would have to return on Wednesday to finish the CPF procedure. Again, Romina chose to stay at the beach instead of going shopping. The next Saturday we returned to Argentina. In the days leading up to that week, I'd like to mention some events related to the story: Tuesday and Thursday Romina went out for a beach walk and came back after two long hours, Wednesday I went to Itajaí and visited my friend, which took me about 4 hours, Friday Romina, after we loaded the car to leave early on Saturday, accepted making love with me for the first time that week. I loved it, felt like she had regained her desire to have sex. I did the dolobu and communicated my enthusiasm for her return to the territory of enjoyment: - ¡Uuuyyy Nena was so good!! You were a wild one!! We've been in sync like this for a long time. What did we do, did we eat or We didn't see each other these last days? We have to write it down in case we go back again –
- Shut up and stop talking nonsense! – she muttered between perplexed and smiling, and hurried to get up and enter the bathroom. I thought she didn't want to keep talking about the topic.
At home, our thing on the bed is far from being wild but, we're tangled with much more frequency than before the vacations, and with mutual satisfaction.
I'll never know if the giant dark-haired one was a sudden consummated intimacy without delays (taxi boy I'm sure it wasn't, what I witnessed, I'm convinced that for both of us, it was one of those moments when alone with another person something difficult to grasp with words happens, but you live it, feel it and fully enter into it. Never a paid task, it was an old fantasy, never confessed by my wife and embodied at discovering him, corporalized, by the sea.
However it was, welcome the encounter: in our couple it rekindled the fire that was almost ash.
I completed opening the door. By the provenance of the sighs, groans, exclamations, and vehement manifestations in loud voice of pleasure that I heard, I supposed, without possibility of error, that the action was taking place in the bedroom as I had supposed when deciding to spy. The curtains of the window in that room had been drawn.
I advanced enough steps to stand facing the hallway connecting the living room with that room. The door to the sector where towels are stored, covered internally with a mirror, had remained open and at the exact angle so that from my position I could take in a good portion of the bed.
The expression on Romina's face was revealing of her genuine and profound delight. No need to mention the ardent tremors of her body. I was surprised by how far her fervor went. She was making love as it is only possible to make it in an extreme situation (war, slow sinking 1000 km from the coast, proximity to collision with celestial body,...) with that feeling of perhaps never again this.
Ten centimeters higher was the shaved head, slightly bronzed skin, of the one she was taking, expertly judging by what I appreciated and heard. She was caressing his face with her right hand, fondling his left breast with it. The contrast between their skins was striking: ivory nipple, sun-kissed hand. Romina enjoys a lot with attentions on her bosom.
Their mouths joined in a deep kiss. It was evident that the individual had dissolved, there was communion, moments of contact. full. Of those that, I don't remember which writer said it: “Probably they are the only ones for whom it's worth living”. Ah, prudently, I backed off. Just like I saw what was happening in bed, from bed they could see me getting involved in something exclusive between them two. That half of them was my wife, didn't justify my interference. In love and sex there are no laws that apply or rules to respect. There are oaths but, maaaaaaaany of us are perjurers.
I thought, strangely, although I wasn't euphoric, I wasn't indignant nor did it hurt me that Romina was enjoying herself, as I remembered in the first times of our marriage, but not with me, rather with the dark-haired man who had appeared a couple of days earlier on the beach. Years ago, I would have had at least a bilious attack. I left my wife to her pleasant experience and went away to spend all the time I had estimated for her, which would last during my absence (see more later). In the car, since the day before, I had a little flag. I called the phone number. On the round of presentation of escorts, I chose a brunette, high, slender, and without silicone, I don't stand bought feminine attributes. I also wanted to entertain myself in black and white. Minutes later, the brunette sat down on the right armchair of the Chevrolet, and we set off towards a motel. Adriana turned out to be a hot Bahian with a barbaric wave when it came to intimacy. I couldn't help myself and, during the pause after the first screw, told her why I was with her: my wife was enjoying herself big time with someone else at that moment. Her comment was lapidary: “she must be looking outside for what she can't get at home”.
We got married, Romina and I, approximately 25 years ago (both of us are in the early stages of the second half of our 40s) and if it's still gratifying for me to make love to her, she had a desire very occasionally and When I accepted, she would settle for a little and classic (I suspect that she had not been satisfied for a long time). Obviously, the routine (and perhaps my clumsiness), was eroding her passion for me. Then she crossed the border in search of what her libido required.
What I'm relating happened on a Monday last summer at Bombinhas Beach in southern Brazil, where we have an apartment with a sea view. The previous Friday evening, seated by the sea, after bathing, with two glasses of drink, we saw him approach, wearing dark glasses and a beach chair in hand. He was walking as if stepping on springs. From him emanated the image of strength, of a man who uses his arms and sweats through his clothes. I could observe my wife looking at the newly arrived one, as if she couldn't take her eyes off him. Her eyes would lower from his head to his feet, passing over his chest: leather and steel under tension, the guitar strap belt, the rolled-up eel in his bathing slip, powerful thighs, and vice versa, rising from feet to head. In other words, she was scanning him, exploring him, lost in thought.
Suddenly, the mulatto stopped about two meters away from us, left the chair, and began a series of 10 or 20 push-ups. His arms lifted and lowered his chest, the clear betún-colored breast rubbed against the sand, and on his neck, a vein marked out an image that induced imagining a whirlwind of blood pumped by a Cyclopean heart.
As if propelled by a trampoline, the dark-skinned man suddenly jumped up and regained his vertical posture, smiling at us. Romina's gaze rose and fell, her cheeks flushed and her breasts agitated.
The man sat down and seemed only interested in the water, clouds, and horizon.
She was like in a trance, as if it didn't matter whether I or the other summer vacationers were there. With certainty, the mulatto with statue-like proportions and his silent smile were causing comezón in her lower regions unconsciously, one of his hands brushing against her pubic area.
The following days, we... and the dark-haired one, we chose the same locations on the beach. Saturday was filled with looks come and go from Romina with him. There were also fleeting exchanges of words. As said, the man had everything to attract feminine attention, I add that my wife is still very attractive: she preserves the exterior charm of her 30s, from the neck down, a beautiful and delicate face where years have not made their mark. Her long golden natural hair, smooth and well-cared-for to exaggeration, completes a specimen of an appetizing woman.
In the afternoon, I went up to the apartment for a few minutes to go to the bathroom. Before going back down, I looked out the balcony: Romina and the dark-haired one, each in their place, were conversing animatedly but trying to pass unnoticed or at least give a casual tone to what, given what had happened, was the special opening of chess: Objective: checkmate the queen that wants to be turned over.
On Sunday during lunch, I proposed to Romina: tomorrow afternoon I'm going to Itajaí to the Federal Revenue (the Brazilian AFIP) to see if they can solve my CPF problem and, on the way, I'll stop by to visit Ale. If you want, I'll leave you in the center so you can stroll around the shops quietly while the procedure and visit last . She was fascinated with strolling through stores and shop windows, normally she would have loved the proposal. It wasn't like that on this occasion: I don't want to, go ahead and after the procedure chat without hurry with your friend. The weather is so nice, I prefer staying at the beach. We'll have to go back home by the weekend anyway.
In reality, I had arranged it over the phone with Alejandro – an ex-colleague who had settled in Brazil - for Wednesday. With all bad intention and morbid curiosity, I invented a trip to Itajaí on Monday.
On Sunday afternoon, the beach and sea were very crowded. Disguised in the water, among the crowd bathing, I witnessed how Romina and the mulatto, exchanging, poorly disguised besides looks and words. I found out that she told him that the next day would have at least 3 hours free. At 2 pm on Monday, I said goodbye, took the car out of the garage, walked about 400 meters until I finally found a place to park. When I got back, Romina had already gone down to the beach and, now from another observation point, I saw how she had a discreet conversation with the man again. Just minutes later, no more than 15, my wife got up, took her purse and went back to the apartment building. I didn't wait to see what the man was doing, I positioned myself on the street from where I could see our bedroom window on the second floor. Half an hour later, the heavy opaque curtain (blackout) covered the window, ensuring the privacy of what was about to happen inside. The preliminaries had ended, Romina was surrendering to her fantasy. I waited a short time and, driven by compulsive morbidness, I put the key in the lock. When, late in the afternoon, I returned from my sexual entertainment payment, I told my wife that I would have to return on Wednesday to finish the CPF procedure. Again, Romina chose to stay at the beach instead of going shopping. The next Saturday we returned to Argentina. In the days leading up to that week, I'd like to mention some events related to the story: Tuesday and Thursday Romina went out for a beach walk and came back after two long hours, Wednesday I went to Itajaí and visited my friend, which took me about 4 hours, Friday Romina, after we loaded the car to leave early on Saturday, accepted making love with me for the first time that week. I loved it, felt like she had regained her desire to have sex. I did the dolobu and communicated my enthusiasm for her return to the territory of enjoyment: - ¡Uuuyyy Nena was so good!! You were a wild one!! We've been in sync like this for a long time. What did we do, did we eat or We didn't see each other these last days? We have to write it down in case we go back again –
- Shut up and stop talking nonsense! – she muttered between perplexed and smiling, and hurried to get up and enter the bathroom. I thought she didn't want to keep talking about the topic.
At home, our thing on the bed is far from being wild but, we're tangled with much more frequency than before the vacations, and with mutual satisfaction.
I'll never know if the giant dark-haired one was a sudden consummated intimacy without delays (taxi boy I'm sure it wasn't, what I witnessed, I'm convinced that for both of us, it was one of those moments when alone with another person something difficult to grasp with words happens, but you live it, feel it and fully enter into it. Never a paid task, it was an old fantasy, never confessed by my wife and embodied at discovering him, corporalized, by the sea.
However it was, welcome the encounter: in our couple it rekindled the fire that was almost ash.
3 comentários - Curious: It didn't bother me.