Kety

They know each other from work. One of those crappy jobs, temporary, quick, and with no particular prospects. She came from the Dominican Republic, although she had previously lived in Spain for many years. She's currently 46 years old, has a teenage daughter who lives with a guy she doesn't trust at all; that's why she accompanied her, to oversee her entry into adulthood.

He's in no hurry. In his early twenties, he can still put his studies and career on hold, focusing on fucking and thrashing like an animal in heat.

They used to go to the subway together after work. She felt supported, and so did her daughter. On an evening shift, the lack of daylight reminds her of the dangers of her hometown, which has given her more than one scare in the past.

She told him about her life, some family worries, and Caribbean expressions. He listened and returned simple, brief, and innocent phrases that made her laugh and stirred tenderness in his dark, shining eyes. Thus, while they "stealed" traffic lights to catch the fastest car, they began to develop an unorthodox, ambiguous, and unknown bond, which they both struggled to maintain.

However, when the young man's contract expired, they stopped seeing each other for a long time, barely speaking, and the possibility of meeting again seemed more like a comforting promise than a plausible reality. But they did see each other. And they did do much more.

After a belated New Year's card and a memory of spring, the two former colleagues decided to meet up one summer afternoon, as peaceful as few others, with a sun that wasn't yet so stifling and crowded, lively squares that painted everything yellow.

There she appeared, wearing an elegant, loose, long-sleeved shirt that matched the temperature; and black pants, not too tight, but that emphasized the thickness of her thighs and the symmetrical curve of her hips. Her makeup was simple and casual, with serene, inquisitive, medium-sized eyes and full, protruding lips.

He, wearing a blue polo shirt and white Bermuda shorts, hadn't dressed up any more than he would for any other engagement. After all, this wasn't a date. His medium-length hair, parted in the middle, was light brown, almost blond when the sun hit it; and his slim figure, as if he hadn't yet fully expanded into the adult he was meant to become.

The conversation went very well. As they each sipped their milkshakes, they easily reminisced about that feeling of innocence, tenderness, and mutual affection. They laughed softly, without loud laughs, but with intense enjoyment. They met in the middle of the afternoon, and soon saw dusk falling, something that prompted them to call it a night and each pay their own way.

They entered the subway together, just like in the old days. Neither of them had anyone waiting for them, as it was summer and people were doing other things in other parts of the world that didn't involve work. So the idea, improvised and ill-considered, arose for the young man to accompany her home for dinner together.

They arrived at the apartment, humble but tidy, well-lit and with enough space. The young man surprised himself by feeling so comfortable and relaxed in an environment he was completely unfamiliar with, next to a woman he barely knew, in a city that wasn't his own either. Still , he thought he had a hypothesis about the reason behind his decision.

Throughout the afternoon he was spending with Kety , he had begun to see her from an unusual, different, unfamiliar perspective. He was focusing more and more on her eyes, their color, her skin, her gestures... And it gave him pleasure to analyze them in detail: when she touches her hair, when she laughs a little nervously, when she really does, when she sighs, when she says "oh well," "you saw," "I'll tell you one thing," "oh, how nice..."

Although he wasn't overwhelmed by arousal, the boy noticed saliva pooling in his mouth, which he tried to hide by pressing his lips together, overlapping his lower lip and upper lip. He also unconsciously moved his legs; he had even begun to develop a small erection, which wasn't obvious or very noticeable. Gradually, this young man discovered the desire he felt for the woman he was now sharing a room with.

Rice, eggs, tomatoes, and a few odds and ends can save any mess. That's what Kety thought , and she decided there was no need to go shopping anywhere. The plan was simple: have a simple dinner while sitting across from each other and chatting, and then each owl would go to its own olive tree.

It wasn't like that. While one of them distributed the ingredients and the other lit the stove, silence reigned throughout the kitchen, creating an atmosphere of tension, but above all, of complicity. They didn't speak, but they looked at each other, smiled, winked, laughed... very close to each other, since the kitchen surface wasn't big enough for much else. Until Kety , nervous although she didn't know it, dropped the towel she'd just used to dry her belongings. After a cheerful "ouch" and a slap of her hands on her thighs, she bent her waist to the floor, picked up the towel, and, as she stretched out again, she could feel her friend's member brush against her back.

It was something innocent and accidental, clearly unintentional ; but the woman didn't reject that firm, powerful touch. That gentle muscle, swollen with the excitement she hadn't suspected it could generate in the almost adolescent, won her complete attention. Feeling the turgid base of an inexperienced penis, smooth, pointing upward because it couldn't slip out of the fabric of his pants, made her salivate suddenly, and she also felt a fleeting burning sensation in her lower abdomen.

She delayed that carnal experience for a second, imperceptibly rubbing that manly sex between her tailbone and buttocks, then abruptly turned and let out a broken "oops," followed by a "oh my god," laced with desire that only seemed to point in one direction. Then the boy took the initiative and hugged Kety around the waist , shortly before kissing her, at first without tongue. They were short, superficial, tender kisses. They were testing each other, testing how far they would go, how far they wanted to go, and what sensations they evoked. They were all good. The truth is, there was no "stop" or "just a moment." They loved each other with desire, and they wanted to make love together.

The perpetual embrace they'd fused into from the beginning pushed her sex against his penis. They liked that sensation. She approved of the size and length of that veiny extension; and he felt his vision growing increasingly cloudy as he kissed Kety , now with tongue, and the blood pressure in her reproductive organ increased while he rhythmically rubbed her vulva.

Frantically, they entered the bedroom, lowered the blinds, turned on the light, and began to undress. Facing the crucifix hanging on the wall, the young man left his sublime manhood in full view, consumed by desire, completely horizontal, ready to insert his glans into any cavity he chose. The woman, who had previously gone to the bathroom to remove her sanitary napkin, returned to the bedroom without anything underneath, revealing a hairy, still half-open genital partially covered by the fabric of her shirt.

They were too excited for foreplay, so there was barely any foreplay. The guy immediately pounced on Kety , who instinctively decided to get on all fours, offering the lad her most pleasurable and satisfying orifice. His glans covered in precum finally made contact with his friend's penis, to which he reacted with a sigh of relief. She, with a little cry of effort and the novelty of the contact, had just adjusted his penis with her fingers so that it entered like a glove.

Before the Messiah's stormy eyes, the boy roared silently as he groped Kety 's buttocks . Dark-skinned, brown, coffee-colored, he caressed his lover's fatty tissue, with flesh of experience, wide, voluminous, that drove him wild. He loves to speed up and slow down unexpectedly, to stop and contemplate the immensity of those legs bent on the bed frame, which creaked and thumped in time with his irregular thrusts.

The game shifted, and now Kety sat on top of the boy, his member sandwiched between her vaginal lips. She tied her hair in a ponytail, holding it in place with the palms of her hands, supporting her mane as she danced in circles on the tail of a jaguar whose testicles were soon to be emptied. She had him under control. It was her moment, and she wanted to have fun. She uttered sweet, guttural noises as she whipped out her friend's balls.

The boy enjoyed looking in the mirror at the reflection of those breasts, fat and with even thicker nipples, swaying almost comically between their owner's poorly shaved armpits. He would laugh if he didn't have to concentrate on holding back his ejaculation, thinking about some gala eleven to distract his attention while he felt that brown flesh with its hairs standing on end and goosebumps.

They lay on their sides, one behind the other, and began to ride faster. Kety knew, from the increasing intensity of his thrusts, that the young man was about to cum, so at that moment she decided to remove his penis from her vagina and strike a deal with him. "We look at each other and try to cum together, okay?" Obviously, the boy agreed, although he was so intoxicated by sexual desire that he didn't verbalize it.

The truth is, he had to stop so he wouldn't cum before Kety even inserted a finger, but it didn't matter. The important thing was to finish the job well. He positioned himself next to her, kissed her passionately again while he groped her clitoris, while she vigorously rubbed the inner surface of her vaginal cavity. When she began to moan and shake her legs uncontrollably, her lover quickly grabbed his member again and ejaculated on the white sheets in the room.

It was all over, and both were powerfully ecstatic. They spent the night together, sleeping in the same bed; but when they awoke, there were no gestures of affection or love. Everything felt more distant, more confusing, more unfamiliar. Nothing was ever the same again. No conversations, no sunsets, no encounters of any kind. Their eyes never met again.