A few decades ago, young María and Alberto were studying in a Brazilian capital. We had spent the summer working hard on our affairs and had only a few days to take vacations. In reality, I had to interrupt them halfway through to do an unavoidable task that would make me travel hundreds of kilometers back and forth from the beach. To make matters worse, this task had some complexities and very probably wouldn't let me return the same day.
As it was already the end of the season, we didn't have trouble finding a rustic wooden cabin built by local residents to rent behind their humble homes. On the land we chose, there were 4 basic constructions without light or even water, which had to be fetched from a public fountain at a certain distance. The shower could be resolved with a few coins at a local club or restaurant. Of course, privacy was quite precarious.
In fact, we chose one of the two cabins at the back because it was more secluded (I've already told you that María is quite scandalous when it comes to intimacy). We were alone for two days but, on the next day, we went out to the beach and ran into the woman from the neighboring cabin: a delicious woman, full of languid sensuality typical of Brazilian women, with a thong and a semi-transparent fabric running the risk of tearing at her prominent nipples. I barely had time to react and greet her when her boyfriend appeared, a robust mulatto with a smiling face like an innocent child. He wore a yellow sunga made of thin lycra that highlighted rather than covered an impressive venous bulge that María couldn't help but stare at, even if she wanted to. And she didn't want to.
We chatted for a while with Mali and Paulo (Paulão) at the time and many others. Then we understood each other by sharing hippie values - starting with sexual freedom - typical of the time and place. The night after our first encounter, María and I accused each other of little restraint in showing our desire to the neighbors. The reprimands awakened fantasies, the fantasies warmed us up, and the heat had only one remedy. We satisfied our desires when, through the window of the neighboring cabin, which was a meter and a half away, we heard Mali moaning very loudly. This naturally triggered more activity in our bed. And also reciprocal shouts that couldn't have gone unnoticed on the other side.
They didn't pass, of course. The next day we exchanged cheerful comments at the beach, while I enjoyed without hiding or disgust looking at Mali's bikini torn by her fierce nipples. After another hot night, I had to leave for the city, perhaps until the next day. I provoked María, “Are you going to take advantage to eat black meat?” She made a wordplay in Portuguese with the neighbor's name (Paulão) and big cock (pause) but I didn't think he would leave his sweety. So I went back to the city. I passed by my house to change and a porn magazine fell off the closet shelf (no internet for inspiration...) with a blonde like María being screwed by a black guy like Paulão. “Is this a sign?”, I thought. With great luck, I completed the procedure just in time to take the last bus back to the beach. I hurried my pace through the deserted streets, entered the terrain heading towards my cabin but, as I passed by Mali and Paulão's door, something stopped me. Well, something, no, it was the whisper of my name. It was Mali, lit by candles, almost naked in her thong, looking out the window and calling me with hand signals. Something stunned, I climbed the stairs and entered. Without taking my eyes off hers, she pointed towards my cabin. I listened, struggling to tear my gaze away from her bare breasts. The scene was wild. María was above rubbing her pubic area alternately on Paulão's armpit and face. Now, what I had in my mouth was hard to breathe: the pauseA chunk of dark meat, a boablackA kilo bar of chocolate in its wrapper emerged when she took it out to look at and admire it, a gland whose intense redness was further accentuated by the saliva of my ecstatic wife. The story didn't end like that, clear. I'll keep telling them next Friday.
As it was already the end of the season, we didn't have trouble finding a rustic wooden cabin built by local residents to rent behind their humble homes. On the land we chose, there were 4 basic constructions without light or even water, which had to be fetched from a public fountain at a certain distance. The shower could be resolved with a few coins at a local club or restaurant. Of course, privacy was quite precarious.
In fact, we chose one of the two cabins at the back because it was more secluded (I've already told you that María is quite scandalous when it comes to intimacy). We were alone for two days but, on the next day, we went out to the beach and ran into the woman from the neighboring cabin: a delicious woman, full of languid sensuality typical of Brazilian women, with a thong and a semi-transparent fabric running the risk of tearing at her prominent nipples. I barely had time to react and greet her when her boyfriend appeared, a robust mulatto with a smiling face like an innocent child. He wore a yellow sunga made of thin lycra that highlighted rather than covered an impressive venous bulge that María couldn't help but stare at, even if she wanted to. And she didn't want to.
We chatted for a while with Mali and Paulo (Paulão) at the time and many others. Then we understood each other by sharing hippie values - starting with sexual freedom - typical of the time and place. The night after our first encounter, María and I accused each other of little restraint in showing our desire to the neighbors. The reprimands awakened fantasies, the fantasies warmed us up, and the heat had only one remedy. We satisfied our desires when, through the window of the neighboring cabin, which was a meter and a half away, we heard Mali moaning very loudly. This naturally triggered more activity in our bed. And also reciprocal shouts that couldn't have gone unnoticed on the other side.
They didn't pass, of course. The next day we exchanged cheerful comments at the beach, while I enjoyed without hiding or disgust looking at Mali's bikini torn by her fierce nipples. After another hot night, I had to leave for the city, perhaps until the next day. I provoked María, “Are you going to take advantage to eat black meat?” She made a wordplay in Portuguese with the neighbor's name (Paulão) and big cock (pause) but I didn't think he would leave his sweety. So I went back to the city. I passed by my house to change and a porn magazine fell off the closet shelf (no internet for inspiration...) with a blonde like María being screwed by a black guy like Paulão. “Is this a sign?”, I thought. With great luck, I completed the procedure just in time to take the last bus back to the beach. I hurried my pace through the deserted streets, entered the terrain heading towards my cabin but, as I passed by Mali and Paulão's door, something stopped me. Well, something, no, it was the whisper of my name. It was Mali, lit by candles, almost naked in her thong, looking out the window and calling me with hand signals. Something stunned, I climbed the stairs and entered. Without taking my eyes off hers, she pointed towards my cabin. I listened, struggling to tear my gaze away from her bare breasts. The scene was wild. María was above rubbing her pubic area alternately on Paulão's armpit and face. Now, what I had in my mouth was hard to breathe: the pauseA chunk of dark meat, a boablackA kilo bar of chocolate in its wrapper emerged when she took it out to look at and admire it, a gland whose intense redness was further accentuated by the saliva of my ecstatic wife. The story didn't end like that, clear. I'll keep telling them next Friday.
15 comentários - Decades of Sex (3): Through the Window
Espero.
Wow!
(Literal) mi cara! Jajajaja