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It all started with a hug.
I was out for a walk in the neighborhood when I heard a car pull out and screech its tires as it pulled away.
It was Juan. Of course.
Who else but the guy with the muscle car in a quiet suburban area would make that much noise.
Then I saw his wife, Carmen, standing by the door, crying.
Like every Latina I ever met, Carmen has curves in all the right places. A full ass and enormous breasts that she always encased in tight clothing – dresses, skirts, shorts, and bathing suits (we have a neighbor who has pool parties all summer; she usually covers up with a t shirt but once she took it off when it got soaked; I was the only one who saw it but it left an impression….). She had thick, jet black hair and went past her shoulders.
She was younger than me (I was around 45 at the time and she was in her early 30s). But again, we found much in common since we lived in the same neighborhood.
I am an empathetic guy. I see a woman crying, I want to help.
I walked up to her and asked if everything was ok. She wiped her eyes and said, “I’m fine. You know Juan.”
Yeah, I did. He was an asshole.
The guy owned a chain of three car repair shops. He was big, brawny and gruff. Exactly what you would expect of a guy who owned three car repair shops.
He was tolerable to me as long as he did not drink; talk about women; or anything other than car and lawn maintenance. When we spoke about mundane things, we were fine.
But he loved talking about women to me; not his wife. Women who came to the shop. Women he saw on TV. Women who worked in his office.
Women, women, women.
I knew better than to ask what started her crying. I would imagine it was his philandering. What else?
Like many women, she pretended to not notice her husband’s inappropriate talk. It was more embarrassing to me since she was never far away.
Since we knew each other for some time, I took the liberty of opening my arms to hug Carmen. She looked at me oddly at first and I felt terribly because I thought she was going to reject me; maybe think of me as a pervert.
But she hugged me. Hard. Pulled me to her. Embraced me. Her gorgeous breasts crushing up against my chest, crying wordlessly.
I wish I could say that led to hot sex, but it did not. It was just a long, caring hug. Neither of us wanted it to end. There was some caressing and a chaste kiss on the forehead from me to her.
But there was no hiding my erection against her body.
We extracted, somewhat embarrassed but not as much as I feared. She apologized. I said it was nothing. I told her to call me if she needed anything. She smiled and went back inside.
Fast forward Beşevler Rus Escort a month.
The power on Carmen’s side of the neighborhood went out one night, in the heat of the summer. Several families on that block found refuge with neighbors. I sent Juan a text offering my home for his family.
Juan’s message was: “yeah, we are fine. We are Caribbean. This is nothing compared to the islands. thanks anyhow!”
A few minutes later, he texts me back: “On second thought, we will take you up on the offer. We will be over soon.”
I made up the guest room and put a small mattress on the floor for their young son, Juanito.
When they came to my house, around 10PM, Juan and Juanito were at the door first. I welcomed them in. I told Juan I work from home around the clock, as we walked to their room, so I would see them when I see them.
Juan said he was at his various shops from morning until evening, so he understood and was appreciative.
Juan thanked me profusely, pointing to Juanito and saying, “I can’t make him suffer.” There was no mention of Carmen. “He’s not used to life without A/C.”
I smiled and went back to the front to see where Carmen was. As I opened the door, there she stood.
She was magnificent.
She was wearing an extremely tight sundress that hugged her curves. It was yellow, with blue flowers. It did not reach her knees. It was a miracle of science, fitting her despite the laws of physics. I was expecting to hear a ripping noise with every step. But alas, it obeyed its mistress and stayed whole.
Carmen had an oversized white coverup over the dress that opened in the front, as if that somehow made it more modest. It was more showcase than cover. She wore flip flops and i could see her hot pink painted toenails that matched her fingers.
Carmen came with two roller bags for her family. Juan did not offer to help. She followed me to their room. Juanito was exhausted from the heat and so, honestly, were his parents. I showed them the guest bathroom and told them to feel free to shower and freshen up.
She was standing in the doorway in her full (“covered up”) glory. We just stared for a long moment before she said that she needed to get around me to get to the bathroom.
Dumbly, i moved aside as she breezed past me, full feminine glory on display. All I could think about was our hug a month before. It aroused me.
“I have to work now, and there is food in the kitchen,” I said, wanting to leave them be. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
I retreated to my bedroom. I just planned on finding “curvy Latina” videos on sex.com so that I Cebeci Rus Escort could cum and sleep.
Noting was going to happen. This is not some fantasy. This is reality. I was just doing something nice and my fantasies were just that – fantasy.
I listened as the various members of the family used the bathroom and padded around the house. Juan was somewhat curt with both Carmen and Juanito, but nothing terrible. He must have been on good behavior being in my home.
I was in bed, reading news headlines, waiting for the minor tumult to abate, when I heard a female voice saying the word “refrescar” (refresh) and “bano” (bath).
Carmen was going to take a shower.
Hearing the water turn on once more, I pictured Carmen rinsing off that gorgeous, curvy body. Maybe touching herself? Maybe feeling aroused by being near me?
Ha, as if.
The water stopped. There were the sounds of footsteps. Did I hear Juanito asking a question? Was that a male snore? Already? Wow, that was quick.
I was literally on sex.com, about to click the words “curvy Latina” when I heard a light tap on the door. It must be Juanito, asking for water or the bathroom, now that his dad was asleep and his mom was in the shower.
Before I could get up, the door opened and Carmen, swathed in a single towel across her midsection, walked in. She did not say a word. She just looked at me and I looked at her.
Few times in my life am I speechless. This was one of those times.
Was this a joke? These things do not happen in real life among strangers or acquaintances. Lovers playing games, yes. But not this. Women do not enter men’s bedrooms naked (outside of porn).
And yet, there she was, her glorious body – including a bald, silken pussy – on display before me.
Was it some bizarre sex dream coming true? Was it my imagination?
I literally asked myself this as she put her finger to her mouth and walked to my bed, the towel now in her hand.
She sat down beside me and I put my phone to the side.
She whispered: “Please, let me do this. Let this happen.”
My hand was on her breast by the time she said the second sentence.
Carmen worked quickly. She seemed to know she did not have much time. But this seemed important to her. It was not just sex, but a mission she had to complete.
I pulled down my shorts and she instantly grabbed my cock, stroking it up and down.
My left arm grabbed her hair and pulled gently. My right instantly shot down to her already-wet pussy.
She used both hands on my cock, massaging it and stroking with care. She shushed me a couple of times and then told me she needed Kolej Rus Escort me to cum.
No mention of what I should do to her.
My mouth latched onto her breast and I feasted with abandon. I sucked and bit and moaned and she would, at intervals, gently shush me, while she herself, moaned quietly to my touch.
Her pussy was warm and silky. It was consuming my fingers as I explored.
There had been no build up. No foreplay. No play at all.
She might have been wet from the shower or her fingers or both. Whatever the case, I loved it.
I am usually a control freak about everything, including my bedroom activities. But I did not want to say anything that might ruin the moment or make me wake from a dream. It was just too perfect.
Her large breasts hung over my head as I lay back in bed and bit and sucked. She kept tugging and whispering dirty thoughts like, “You like this, baby?” and “You like my big tits?”
I will admit that I came very quickly. But then again, so did she.
I shot my cum all over her breasts and it dripped onto my t-shirt. Neither of us made more than a whimper. We understood. It had to be this way.
Carmen smiled at me once we were done. She wiped her hand on the towel and dabbed at my now-wet t-shirt. She kissed me on the lips and I noticed a red welt on her breasts. My handiwork.
I said nothing (literally) as she got up from the bed and wrapped herself in the towel (she was careful to not have the cum touch her body) and walked out the door, first checking the corridor to see if it was empty.
She did not look back.
I went to sleep soon thereafter and I quite literally wondered if it was a dream.
The next morning, I awoke to loud voices, but not arguing. Just a family trying to get ready for their day. Three people heading in three directions. I got up and washed up in my master bathroom and got changed into jeans and a new t shirt (it was definitely not a dream).
I walked to the kitchen where the three of them were sitting, eating bowls of Cheerios out of plastic bowls.
They made themselves at home, all right.
Juan said that Dan, his neighbor who stayed at home last night, texted that the electricity was back on. “Thanks, but we’re going home now.”
I mumbled something about it not being a problem and tried to avoid Carmen’s gaze. She seemed to feel the same way, her eyes laser-focused on her Cheerios.
The three soon left. Juan shook my hand as I watched Carmen walk Juanito to their minvan in the driveway. She had on denim shorts, an oversized white t-shirt and the same flip flops. I felt a pang of jealousy as I wondered if the t-shirt was Juan’s.
I waved and the boy waved back. His mother did not.
I went to their room and saw that the bed was made and the room was orderly.
In the kitchen, there was a single piece of paper on the kitchen table. It had a feminine handwriting that said simply, “Thank you.”
I prepared myself a cup of coffee and stared out the window, waiting, holding that paper tightly in my hand.
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