“Awww, hell.”
I muttered it to myself. The most inside of jokes since I was the only one in on it at the moment. It is a nod to one of my favorite movies, “Tombstone.” Wyatt Earp (Kurt Russell) has just told Doc Holiday (Val Kilmer) how he will remain strong despite his attraction to the newly arrived Josephine (Dana Delany). Then she come through the door and Wyatt says that line, “Aww, hell.”
Doc mocks him with a smirk, “Why, Wyatt, you’re a rock.”
I always thought it was a really funny moment. I often said it to my own amusement when happening upon an unexpected beauty. In this instance I walked into my bedroom to open my window to let in a little spring air just as a truly gorgeous woman began descending the stairs that led to the front door of my building.
I froze and watched until she disappeared below the bottom sill of my window. She was Latina with raven hair falling over her shoulders. It framed the light tan skin of her face perfectly. Still to this day, I can’t imagine why, but she was wearing a zippered top like you’d see on a model at a car show. Yellow and blue, tight against her skin. The zipper pulled up between her breasts which, along with the skin tight fabric, were putting it’s construction to a real test. The top disappeared into perfectly fitting jeans which hugged her full hips and buttocks.
Once she was out of sight, I listened intently to see if I could tell where she went in the building. It sounded to me as though she descended to the bottom floor. I knew an apartment there was empty. “I hope she’s moving in,” I thought.
To my delight, over the next couple of days it became apparent she was. Along with a young boy who looked to be about 10 and a man I took to be her boyfriend as neither wore rings. I work from home and besides my bedroom, my office in that apartment faced out onto the parking lot and the same set of stair. The highlight of my day became watching her whenever she would emerge.
I partially figured out some of her story as I watched over the next couple of weeks. The flag hanging from her rearview mirror was Peruvian, so I assumed that was her background. A skinny Latino man would show up and take the boy a couple of times a week. He was clearly the boy’s father. I assumed this man was her ex-husband. He looked as though he had plenty of money. Nice car, expensive shoes and watch and always perfectly dressed and groomed. I was about 40 and he looked a little older than me.
The boyfriend on the other hand was probably 15 years younger than me. Perhaps she was rubbing it in the former hubby’s face.
It didn’t take too long for me to run into her at the front door. She came down the stairs as I exited, so I held it open for her, happy to watch her take the last few steps down and then walk the 20 feet to the door. She was wearing a light cotton dress that perfectly framed her bosom and ended at her knees. Her strappy black shoes clicked on the concrete as she walked, the dress flowing around her. “Aww, hell,” I thought again.
I smiled at her and she smiled back. Up close I felt like I could fall into her dark brown eyes and never find my way out. I could see she was older than she looked from a distance but still several years younger than I. “Welcome,” I said. “I live in number four.” I told her my name and that if they needed anything to let me know.
I could tell from her expression she wasn’t understanding everything I said. My Spanish was pretty basic at that time, but I decided to try again. “Bienvenido. Yo vivo en el número quatro,” I said repeating what I had said before, confident I had it right.
A little more slowly I continued offering to help with anything she needed, “Si necesitas algo házmelo saber.”
I knew I’d at least gotten close because her smile widened and relaxed. She extended her hand, which I took marveling at how soft and warm it was. “Gracias,” she said, “me llama Lucita.”
I grudgingly let go of her hand. “Mucho gusto, Lucita,” I told her.
She repeated the sentiment back to me in English, “Nice to meet you,” her thick accent making her halting words sound almost musical.
Walking to my car I wondered how obvious I must have been. I’ve been called aloof, hard to read and a host of other things meant to convey a lack of emotional transparency. This was one of a very small number of times in my life I was smitten. Getting into my car I said to myself aloud, “Damn!”
I enjoyed each time I crossed her path over the next couple of months. Each time I wondered if her smile was because she knew the effect she had on me. We traded pleasantries in a mix of Spanish and English each time and I tried not to stare. It became more difficult when the pool opened. I thought to myself that I would have put up with a lot more shit from my ex wife if she’d been that irresistible.
Over time I learned some new phrases online to make my greetings just a little more flirty. “Me encanta tu sonrisa,” I said with a quick wink. Indicating that I loved her smile made it grow even wider and her lashes fluttered a bit.
“La mujer de mis sueños,” I said grinning as if I were being facetious. I wasn’t. She was the woman of my dreams. Many of them over the past months. She giggled.
“Hola linda.” “Estás muy bonita hoy!” “Tienes los ojos más bonitos del mundo.”
“Hello, beautiful.” “You are gorgeous today.” “You have the most beautiful eyes in the world.”
I’m a student of body language. Each time she giggled and her eyes lit up. Her shoulders would turn slightly toward me, accepting the compliment. Alas, that only means a lady is enjoying the attention, not necessarily that she wants you to take things further.
One morning she held the door for me, “Buenos dias, guapo,” she said her eyes full of mischief but a little wide, probably from the risk she was taking.
She was riffing off my “Hello, beautiful,” from the day before. “Good morning, handsome,” were what her words meant.
I turned to look in her eyes. “Te casarás conmigo?” I asked if she’d marry me.
Her laugh was less of a giggle and more a full laugh this time. “Algún día,” she said laughing again.
“Someday,” I thought. Don’t make promises you won’t keep. Of course, it wasn’t a promise it all. It was fun flirtation. And it was amazing.
As fall approaches I enjoy taking my reading outdoors. This particular fall that meant sitting on my balcony with whatever book I was into at the moment. One Saturday evening I sat with my copy of “Hellhound On His Trail”. My balcony faced mostly into the woods down a long hill overlooking a river valley. It was quiet, peaceful and felt secluded though I was really only a few minutes from downtown. The way my building was situated, I could also see the balconies (and patios) of some of the other apartments.
I seemed to be the only one who appreciated this part of the building as the other balconies were typically devoid of any humans. Most didn’t even have furniture. While I read, movement below caught my eye. Through Lucita’s sliding glass door I could see two pairs of legs. One pair belonged to her and I assumed the other to her boyfriend. The furniture that was typically there had been moved and they appeared to be salsa dancing.
For a moment I forgot about the book and watched her legs and hips move with the fluidity of mercury. She was wearing a white pleated skirt and high heeled black shoes. Her legs were amazing as always. Not skinny. Not quite muscular, but toned. They looked firm as did her hips. I was captivated. Almost hypnotized.
Every so often they would stop and slowly work through some steps. I’m not a dancer. At all. But it looked to me like they were perfecting a routine. Perhaps for a contest? I found it interesting and an excuse to continue watching a little longer. Once I went back to my book, I occasionally turned my head back to watch the dancing. When my phone rang inside I went in a little annoyed to answer it.
You know that friend who calls about nothing and then talks too long? That’s who it was. Finally, I returned to my balcony and picked up my book and settled back into my chair. I looked back down and too my left to see how the dance was coming along. My heart instantly thudded in my chest. The dancing was over.
Instead, they lay on the floor in front of the sliding door, both entirely naked. She was on her back and he was kneeling between her legs, partially obscuring her. He seemed to be stroking himself. I could see her from the waist up and she was as magnificent as I knew she would be. Perfect, natural round breasts with lovely brown nipples. I felt a little guilty about watching, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away.
He finished whatever he was doing and leaned over her. From his movement I deduced he had entered her. His round ass pumping away with abandon. I’m still in really good shape, “but I can’t compete with that 25 year old ass,” I thought.
Suddenly I noticed her head had turned. Was she looking at me? I was clearly visible. I was making no attempt to hide. It was near dusk and she was inside in the light. Maybe she couldn’t see me. But her eyes seemed to be trained on me. I still didn’t look away. I was jealous of this young guy. Though she didn’t seem to be too enthralled with him.
After maybe just a couple of minutes of humping her he suddenly pulled away and jumped to her side. Jacking himself off he spurted his semen onto those perfect breasts. When he moved I could see her body was perfectly hairless. That’s not typically my thing, but for some reason on her it looked right.
She suddenly seemed embarrassed and pulled her legs together and covered her breasts before getting up rather quickly and leaving my sight. I know it’s popular in porn, but I’ve never understood the fascination with jacking off onto a woman. It doesn’t make sense to me.
He stayed kneeling there for a moment after she was gone, holding his softening erection in his hand. “I might not be able to match your ass,” I muttered, “but my dick will beat yours any day.”
It was a bit adolescent to be sure, but as I already admitted, I was jealous. Continuing my little internal rant I thought, “And I can last a lot longer than two minutes.”
He got up and left and I sat there wondering if I’d actually just seen that. Had she really been looking at me? If so, what the hell for? Dammit, I was hot and bothered now.
The next time I saw her I watched her reaction closely. She seemed a little more shy than usual until I gave her my biggest smile and gave a greeting. For the life of me I couldn’t tell if she saw me or not. I also couldn’t stop thinking about her smooth, beautiful body.
Sometime that winter, I went to the basement to do my laundry. I always took my time in the laundry room because it was right next to Lucita’s door. I opened the door to the laundry room and instead of finding it empty, I found her opening a dryer door. The room was small. Two washers on one side, two dryers on the other. There was about 4 or 5 feet between them.
“I’m sorry,” I said, thinking I had startled her.
“No, come in,” she said with her lovely accent. I didn’t need to be asked twice. I set my laundry bag on one of the washers and asked how she was. She returned the pleasantries as I noticed what she was wearing. Suddenly I was a little flustered. She had on a white robe with the sash tied around her waist. It was clear she had little if anything on underneath. She bent over and grabbed some clothes out of the dryer and placed them in the basket on the floor.
Her breasts swung inside the robe, still covered but so tantalizingly close. She saw where my eyes were and I know I turned a little red. I pride myself on being a gentleman. Or at least as much as I can manage. She smiled and I knew she wasn’t offended. We continued to trade small talk in what had become our customary Spanish/English mix. The weather was cold. The weekend almost over.
I began loading my clothes into the washers, maneuvering around her as she unloaded the dryers. Behind her now, I couldn’t help but notice as she bent over and moved her baskets. Her perfectly round, full buttocks lifted the fabric of the robe. It covered them and just a tiny bit of her legs in this position. “She has to know she’s killing me,” I thought.
As she prepared to leave she struggled a little getting the baskets up and the door open. I stepped around her and held the door. “Gracias,” she said brushing past me her breasts grazing my arm with just a little terrycloth between me and heaven.
On purpose? How could I tell. She smiled over her shoulder as she went through her door. I shook my head. I wanted to go knock on the door and tell her I needed to spend the rest of the day with her. But I also knew her boyfriend was on the other side of that door, too.
As a new spring began and the days got warmer, I started seeing Lucita more often. It had been a particularly cold winter and most people spent a lot more time than normal indoors. I was pleased to again have our interactions. She wasn’t as chipper as she had been before, however. Occasionally I would hear her and her boyfriend yelling at each other. He was home less and less often and when he did come home he was frequently drunk. Now, besides just being jealous, I really didn’t like him.
One afternoon I came home to find her struggling with a box as the top of the steps leading down to our building’s door. I knew instantly from the markings on the box what had happened. We had a supremely lazy FedEx driver who refused to deliver things. He would just drop everything at the office of our complex and we’d have to pick it up there. Whatever she’d had delivered was too heavy for her to manage.
“Dejame ayudarte con eso,” I said meaning “Let me help you with that.”
She stopped struggling with it and looked up relieved. “Thank you,” she answered in English. “It is heavy.”
I noticed the impressed look in her eye as I scooped up the box with little apparent effort. I enjoyed giving her the show of strength. All those days at the gym finally paid off in real life. I followed her down the steps, through the door and down the inside stairs to her door. As she fumbled with her keys, I couldn’t help but admire her again.
She wore a light v-neck sweater, sunshine yellow. It was clingy and showed her form perfectly. She’d paired it with a pleated white skirt that ended just above her knees and wedges with yellow straps around her foot and ankle. She looked like a master painter had just created his masterpiece.
She opened the door and I followed her through it. She pointed to a corner near the spot I had watched her on the floor. As I set the package down I saw the description. It was a book case. At the same time, I noticed a book shelf with two broken shelves. Clearly this was the replacement.
“Do you need help putting it together,” I asked.
She hesitated. I could tell she would like the help but wasn’t sure she should take it. “I don’t mind,” I smiled.
She nodded. I asked if she had the tools and she shook her head. I ran upstairs and returned a moment later with my toolbox. I only needed a screwdriver but I couldn’t help showing off a little bit. I cut open the box and began removing the pieces. We chatted while I did and she began to take things off the broken bookcase and set them on her dining room table.
When she finished she sat on the ottoman/coffee table next to me while I knelt on the floor piecing the bookcase together. I took my time, relishing the moment. Our conversation went deeper than it ever had before. She told me about moving here with her family and husband 6 years earlier. We commiserated over our divorces and talked about the things we enjoyed doing. In spite of everything I swore I’d never do again, I felt myself starting to fall for her.
Not just her amazing body and beautiful smile. Also the things that made her smile and cry. Her voice that rang in my ears like angelic music. “Dammit, keep it together,” I thought.
I finished the bookcase and set it upright next to the broken one. I told her I’d take the old one to the dumpster for her. Then I knelt down to put my screwdriver back into the toolbox. When I looked back at her she was still sitting on the ottoman. She was smiling but her eyes were sad. “Que esta mal, Princesa?” I asked. “What’s wrong, Princess?”
She shrugged and the smile disappeared. “Tu novio?” I asked. “Your boyfriend?”
She nodded. “He’s a fool,” I said in English, hoping she understood. “A damn fool. He should be worshiping the ground you walk on.”
She giggled a little, so I knew she got it. I cupped her face with my hands. “If he’s not making you happy, there are others who would give it their all.” I meant me. I didn’t want to mean me. I wanted to be single. Well, I did until that moment.
Her smile was back. She leaned forward and kissed my cheek. Now I was smiling but when my eyes met hers it began to fade. I leaned slowly forward and kissed her lips. If I hadn’t read this right I was about to be slapped. Instead her arms found their way around my neck.
My kiss was gentle, belying the ardent desire I felt. More than just accepting my kiss, she kissed me back. Her lips soft on mine. Hesitating for a moment I pulled back, wanting to make sure I wasn’t overstepping. Our eyes met for a moment then her arms resting on my shoulders pulled me back to her. In her sitting position on the ottoman her knees parted a little as I moved between them still kneeling on the floor.
My arms moved around her waist and our bodies pressed together. I could feel her warmth and it awakened my need anew. She laid her head on my shoulder and snuggled her face into my neck. I wondered if this is what she needed. Comfort. I held her close for a while, my bearded cheek scratching her smooth one. I pursed my lips and gently kissed her jaw just in front of her ear where my mouth was positioned.
Something happened with that slight act. She pulled her head from it’s resting place and kissed me again. Harder and deeper. I returned her intensity and as my hunger built, I increased the forcefulness. Opening my mouth, letting my tongue touch her lips. Her mouth also parted and our kisses became warm and wet.
I slipped my hands beneath the bottom of her sweater feeling the soft, smooth, warm skin of her lower back. I pulled her tighter against me. It felt like one of my dreams. I couldn’t believe I was actually touching her. She let go of me and leaned back a little, lifting her sweater over her head and dropping it on the floor in one smooth movement. She watched my eyes devour her. Up close her skin was even more perfect. Her bra only barely covered her forbidden breasts.
I leaned forward and kissed her lovely neck and shoulders. Using my parted lips and leaving little spots of moisture as I went. Then she was tugging at my shirt which I aided her in removing. Looking her in her eyes I reached around her and unfastened her bra. It fell off her shoulders, over her arms and into my hands with no effort. I dropped it on top of the sweater.
My hands cupped and slightly lifted her breasts. “You’re perfect,” I said, any thought of speaking Spanish now gone. She smiled and watched me admire her. I kissed her chest between her breasts. She leaned back, supporting herself with her hands. I kissed my way between them and beneath, circling underneath each one. Then softly kissing and flicking my tongue lightly over the underside of each.
Her breathing deepened then became a little sharper when I found those gorgeous brown nipples. The were exactly as I had imagined them after seeing them from 50 feet away. She lay back all the way on the ottoman and my mouth followed. I could feel her legs against my bare sides where her skirt had ridden up. I left her breasts and kissed her stomach and sides. When I dipped below her belly button her hips thrust slightly forward.
I slid my hands along the outsides of her legs, under her skirt to her hips. She was smooth and firm the entire way. I hooked my thumbs under the edges of her panties and began to pull. She lifted herself to help me. As they cleared her hips she raised her legs up so I could slide them the rest of the way off. They, too, ended up on the floor. Her legs still in the air, I turned my head and kissed her calf. Then behind her knee and the inside of her thigh.
I took my time, savoring every moment. Kissing inch by inch down her leg. When I was so close I could smell her sweet scent I switched and repeated the other side. When I got to the top of that leg, I ran my tongue over the crease between her leg and pelvis. She breathed in deep and held it. I did the other side, too. Several times. Teasing.
Then, I licked her outer lips, lightly. At the bottom they were slightly parted and I could taste her own desire sharp and sweet on my tongue. I pressed into it, feeling the slippery warmth began to coat my lips and tongue. I slid my tongue upwards, separating her vulva along the way until I bumped into her clitoris. This created a much more noticeable reaction. I flicked my tongue over it and then gently pursed my lips around it.
Her hands were suddenly in my hair, pulling my face into her. I continued to tease up and down, stopping to please her little bud. Then, I rolled my tongue into a tube and slide it as much around her clitoris as I could. I began to slowly move it up and down the tiny shaft. Her hips bucked against my face and I knew I was doing it right for her. Her movements became more and more frantic as the thrashed about a little.
She didn’t make much sound other than a few muted grunts. But I knew when she came. Her thighs clenched the sides of my head. She bucked like a bull trying to throw a rider. I held on like a winning rodeo cowboy, though. Longer than an 8 second ride, I’d have had a perfect score. Finally she fell quiet. I looked at her body laid out before me. This close I saw things I hadn’t before. A little dimple in the skin on front of her left hip. An almost flower shaped birthmark below her belly button.
I continued to kiss and explore her until she sat up and then stood before me. She undid her skirt and dropped it to the floor. Sitting back down she motioned for me to stand up. I did and she unbuckled my belt and unsnapped my jeans. She pulled them and my shorts to my knees. I kicked off my shoes and stepped the rest of the way out of my pants. I watched her eyes a little wide on my erect penis. I’m not long but much thicker than normal.
She took me into her warm mouth. I was already at 100% hardness. I knew this couldn’t last very long. Her technique was flawless. Mouth, lips and tongue worked in unison. I could feel my testicles tightening up. I was a little relieved when she removed me from her mouth and pulled me back to my knees. I was perfectly positioned between her legs. Maintaining control she rubbed the deep red tip of my erection against her clitoris and between her lips.
I could feel her warmth. Her natural lubrication mixing with her saliva still clinging to me. She pulled me to her a little and I pressed against her vaginal opening. She let go of me there and put her hands on my hips. She pulled gently and I in turn pressed against her gently. The head popped inside fairly quickly. I’m a little oddly shaped in that the shaft of my penis when it is fully engorged is a little wider than the head.
Maintaining the pressure against her, it eventually slipped inside, little by little. When it was in, I pulled slowly back then pushed in again. Gently. She wrapped her arms around me, holding tightly as we rocked together. After a few minutes, she lay back, pulling me on top of her. Now I was on my feet, resting my weight on my elbows. I slid back and forth inside her warm, moist canal. I varied the rhythm, intensity and depth. Enjoying each sensation and enjoying even more watching her.
Her expression was far different than that evening on the floor. He eyes were on mine. I could tell when it was particularly pleasureful as her lips would part and her eyes widen a little. I kissed her lips, neck and breasts. I wondered how long it had been since she had been adored properly.
I decided to reach into my back of tricks. Shifting my body I lowered my hips causing the head of my penis to press against the front wall over her vagina looking for her g-spot. I knew I’d found it when she moaned a little. So I continued to move, rubbing over it. Her eyes stopped watching me as she closed them. She moaned more and so I continued. Then she grabbed my hips and yanked, pulling me deep inside. As she did, she cried out softly.
She again moved as if she were trying to throw me off. I rode with her again, this time using my hips instead of me head. She came incredibly hard. I could feel that familiar tightening deep between my legs. Not sure what to do, I started to pull out. She opened her eyes wide and shook her head. Her heels dug into my buttocks and her hands grasped my lower back. That tightening became unbearable.
The twitching between my legs became a throbbing that overtook my body. I collapsed onto her as my body deposited it’s treasure inside her. Of course, she had no way of knowing that I typically produce more than the average amount of semen. I’m sure that time it was more than was even normal for me. It seemed like I came for minutes, though I know I didn’t. I could feel it leaking out between us and onto the leather of the ottoman.
When my body was no longer wracked by convulsions I looked down into her face. She was smiling. She had her fingers in my hair. I kissed her again. “You’re amazing,” I told her. She just smiled more. We lay there for some time, caressing faces and kissing. Eventually she turned her head to look at the clock on the wall and I knew what that meant. We got dressed and I kissed her again before I left with the broken bookcase.
I wish the story ended with her moving upstairs with me. Instead, within a few days she came up to tell me she was moving to Arizona to be with her parents for a while. We exchanged phone numbers and have talked a few times over the past few years. She’s now engaged to a pretty good guy, so I’m happy for her. At least I had that moment with the most beautiful neighbor a man could ever hope for.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/9k6gd7/the_most_beautiful_neighbor_mf