It started one spring afternoon.

Natalia is my neighbor’s twenty-three-year-old daughter. She and her parents moved to the United States many years earlier from Brazil. They moved into the house next door about five years ago. After high school, Natalia had stayed with her parents because her waitress jobs were not enough to afford a place of her own.

Natalia’s parents, Gabriel and Beatriz, hit it off with my wife Georgia and me, and we became pretty good friends. We often had meals together and then started playing board games once a month. One summer, we went on vacation together in North Carolina and split the rent on a large mountain cabin there. Georgia and I really enjoyed the whole family. Our times together were always lively, sometimes intense, and filled with laughter.

Then things changed. Natalia’s parents grew apart. Gabriel lost his job in the city due to the company failing, and his next job had him traveling out of state a lot. I could hear them arguing in Portuguese a lot when he was home. Then Beatriz found out Gabriel was having an affair and had fallen in love with another woman.

It was not long after the divorce, that we discovered Georgia had pancreatic cancer. She fought it, but we discovered it late, and it had spread too much. This left me alone again, with no family close by. I went through a period of drinking too much alone. I was a little numb inside for a while. With Gabriel gone and Beatriz too busy working, I had a serious social void in my life for a while.

Then I retired a second time but was still too young to collect Social Security, so I started working part-time, teaching classes at a local community college. The pay and benefits were minimal, but it gave me something fun and meaningful to do. As an adjunct, I mostly worked from home, with about half my classes being online only. It was an easy life, to be honest.

I was in the backyard one day using my smoker to cook some chicken when I saw Natalia over the fence in their backyard. She was sitting at the patio table under the umbrella, eating a sandwich, but she had a book next to her plate and looked very focused.

“Hi Natalia,” I said, “How are things?”

"I'm studying to take the ACT," she said with a sour look on her face, "It's giving me a headache."

"Those tests can do that," I said.

She looked up and made another face.

"You're going back to school?" I asked.

"Yes," she said, her brow furrowed. "We need more money, and I need a better future."

"What do you want to study?" I asked.

"Nursing," she said, "Eventually, I want to become an RN, but I'll start LPN, and then work my way up."

"Ahhh," I said, "Taking after your mom, then?"

"Yes," she said, "I know what I'm getting into, but it also appeals to me. Working in restaurants was fun for a while, but I'm ready to do something more serious."

“Well, good luck with that test,” I said, and she went back to her book while I continued browsing my news feed and keeping an eye on my smoker.

A little while later, she was at the fence peering over.

“I love the way that smells,” she said. “What are you smoking?”

“Chicken,” I said, looking up, “Hungry? It’s almost ready, and it’s more than I can eat by myself.”

“I’m starving, Mr. David,” she said.

“Come on over,” I said, sweeping my arm, “Bring your book.”

A few minutes later, she was sitting next to me at the metal bistro table. It struck me how beautiful she was: big brown eyes, a cute smile with sensual lips, classic cheekbones, and long, luscious, full dark hair. 

“Mr. David, can I ask you something?” she asked.

“Sure,” I said.

“Can you help me with studying for this test? My brain is hurting, and I really want to raise my score. You’re teaching at the college, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” I said, “I’m teaching part-time, just a few classes.”

“I don’t understand this logic problem question,” she said. “Can you help me?”

I leaned over her to read the example problem. I caught a faint whiff of her shampoo and a hint of a floral perfume that might have been applied hours ago. I glanced down and saw straight down her t-shirt, catching sight of one erect brown nipple on a firm mound of a young breast. No doubt the relatively cool outdoor air had contributed to her nipples hardening. My eyes drank in the swell of her hips flaring out from her trim waist, and I felt a surge of lust course through me.

It had been a long time since I had taken that test, but I had taught a test study session once. I knew the parts of the test well, and I knew some test-taking strategies. I was able to help her understand that kind of problem and give her some tips for how to maximize her time.

While she was eating the chicken sandwich, I went and got the test study guide I had off my bookshelf and brought it out. It was a little bit better than the one she had already. I brought my laptop out to the patio, so I could do my work while assisting when she needed help. Plus, it was a gorgeous spring day, and it felt good to be outside.

Natalia stayed all afternoon. At dinner time, I started preparing the meal, and she came inside to watch. I asked her what she had planned since her mom would be at work until late. When she said she was going to have a microwave dinner, I told her she was going to eat with me, but she would need to help with the preparation.

We worked side by side. I showed her things, like how to hold the knife and a technique for slicing an onion, the way that I smashed garlic and diced it, how to zest a lime, etc. We sipped wine as we worked and sipped more during dinner. She was pleasantly surprised by how good the meal turned out and made a lot of sensuous moaning sounds with the first several bites.

This was the beginning of a habit between us of sharing afternoons a couple of days a week. We often cooked and ate dinner together. I enjoyed cooking, and she seemed to catch my enthusiasm for it. She seemed to appreciate the creativity and healthiness of it. Wine was always part of these meals and the preparation; it eased our inhibitions. Over time, she shared more and more of her personal life, and I began to talk to her about my world, telling her my stories. I felt a growing regard and respect as she got to know me better, and she responded by sharing her joys and anxieties.

One time, when she came, she seemed quiet and sort of down.

“Natalia,” I asked her, “What’s going on? You seem upset or depressed about something.”

“It’s a guy I was dating,” she said. “He’s so immature.”

“Oh?” I ask, “What did he do?”

“He was seeing someone else,” she said. “He was also selfish, he didn’t care about me or anything I was doing. Everything was about him. He’s sort of a bum too, and he wasn’t even good in bed.”

“Well then,” I said, “It sounds like it wasn’t much of a loss.”

“Yeah,” she said, “But there doesn’t seem to be anyone better around. A lot of guys at school don’t seem to have the courage to ask me out, and the ones who do turn out to be jerks.”

“Just be patient,” I advised, “A good one will come along.”

“So far,” she added, “None of them have been good at sex.”

I looked at her with a raised eyebrow with a mocking quizzical look.

“Okay, I’m sorry to hear that,” I said. I wasn’t sad, but I liked that she seemed to want to talk about sex. “That must be disappointing,” I added, wanting to make her feel more comfortable sharing. She just looked at me, making a face like she smelled something unpleasant.

“What was so bad about it?” I asked, risking going too far, but wanting to hear her be more specific.

“Do you really want to know?” she asked, possibly wondering if she might be embarrassed to be talking this much about sex.

“I do,” I said reassuringly, “But I mean, whatever you feel comfortable telling me.”

“Well…,” she went on, “They act like all they want is to get into your pants. Then, once they get you there, they don’t seem to know anything about your body. They just want to play with your pussy a little bit, then stick it in as fast as possible.” She said the word “pussy” glancing at me to gauge my reaction.

“Oh,” I said, “It is one of the problems with younger guys I’m afraid.”

“Some of them seem afraid to eat my pussy!” she glanced at me again. I was smiling but also listening carefully. I shook my head to indicate my agreement that this was ridiculous.

“I don’t know if I was ever like that,” I said. “Surely not all of them are like that?”

“The ones who do try to use their mouth,” she said, looking at the wall for a second, maybe out of nervousness, “They don’t seem to know the basic things about a woman’s anatomy. I know they watch a lot of porn. They all do. It seems like that’s what they are always trying to do, the same stuff they see in porn.”

“Hmmmm… I don’t know what to say,” I replied. “You need a guy who will listen to you and take the time to get to know your body.” She paused with a thoughtful look on her face.

“I need someone like you, David,” she said, looking straight at me. “I heard you and Georgia, you know.”

“Whaattt?” I said, laughing, “You did?”

“Yes,” she said, “When you guys left your bedroom window open, I could hear you in my bedroom if my window was open. It was hot!”

“We had good chemistry,” I said, remembering some of the great sex I had with my wife.

“That’s what I want,” Natalia said. “I could tell she was having a lot of pleasure. I could tell she was having great orgasms. I have not had a real orgasm yet from a guy.”

“I have to admit, though,” I replied, “I had to learn things from women. Maybe I was lucky, but an older woman helped me at one point.”

“Really?” she asked. “Were you clueless at first?”

“Well…I don’t know about ‘clueless.’”  I said with a chuckle, “I read things. I paid attention. I asked questions. Over time, I got better.”

“Is it true about older men?” she asked.

“What?” I said.

“That they are good lovers,” she asked.

“Ummmm… they can be,” I said, emphasizing the word “can.”

“I heard you and Sophia, too,” she said with a little devious smile.

“Oh no!” I said, rolling my eyes playfully and thinking about my last girlfriend.

“Yes!” she said as a playful accusation, “I heard you! Well… mostly I heard her!”

“Sophia was what you might call a screamer,” I said, laughing.

“Oh my god!” she exclaimed, chuckling. “She did more than scream. It was I could hear every thrust!” I hid my face a little with mock embarrassment.

“That’s what I want,” she said wistfully, “A man who can make me scream like that!”

“Someday,” I reassured, “You will.” While my words were meant to reassure her, I had no idea these words would prove to be a promise that I would fulfill.

****

I had begun to fantasize about Natalia, and masturbate, thinking of us having sex, of me teaching her things I knew, and of us exploring new things together. It was a fantasy, though, and I was too afraid of rejection or of ruining our friendship. We had become very comfortable together, and our age difference surprisingly made a unique friendship possible. I was almost thirty years older. She couldn’t see me as a boyfriend. It didn’t seem possible that she could find me attractive or sexy, either.

I was still relatively fit. My arms and shoulders were thick and toned from the resistance training I did three times a week. My hair had receded somewhat and thinned, turning grey, and was white at the temples.

However, it had seemed as though Natalia was dressing slightly flirtier when she came over, but I found this was easily dismissed. She had that passionate Latin temperament, full of life and opinions and dramatic expressions of her feelings. I enjoyed her enthusiasm and the way our personalities meshed. It wasn’t long before our dinners included watching television together, and on Friday nights, we watched a movie.

One Friday night, we paused the movie for a bathroom break, and I told her I was going to make popcorn and asked if she wanted some. She said yes, but then said she wanted to get into her pajamas. While I made the popcorn and changed into my night clothing, lounge pants, and comfortable t-shirt, she went back to her place and changed.

Moments later, she was at my front door, in slippers and a big loose t-shirt that bared one shoulder and came down to the top of the thighs. I looked her up and down with a mock smirk that said playfully, “You’re hot!” Her legs looked amazing, slender and toned, and such a rich light caramel that looked smooth and even. Even though the shirt was loose, it still flowed and pressed her chest. Sitting on top of her firm, petite mounds, her nipples poked and tented the t-shirt sharply. I wondered what she had on for bottoms because I could see her legs almost to her hips, but nothing else. I found out later she wore a pair of very sexy, minimal, semi-sheer, black thong panties.

We had been sitting comfortably on opposite ends of the sofa, a comfortable distance apart, but with the popcorn, she scooted closer. I had a habit of lounging sideways, resting my upper body on the left arm cushion with a sofa pillow, but I sat more upright so we could easily share the popcorn bowl.

As the movie went on, she leaned against me, almost like a child might snuggle with a parent, but also as romantic partners might, and she placed the popcorn bowl into my lap. I could feel her body molding to mine, and I felt my cock stirring in my loose-fitting lounge pants. Fortunately, our position and the popcorn kept my semi-erect state from being obvious.

Then came the sex scene in the movie.

The sex was largely off-camera and teased with glimpses of bare buttocks and bare breasts, but it was sensual and intensely erotic, woven thickly with the authentically acted sounds of passion. I glanced down at her in the blueish light of the large TV, and I could see she was captivated. Her eyes riveted on the screen. Her lips were partly open, and her breathing was noticeably ragged. Her nipples visibly pushed against the fabric of her sleep shirt.

As the scene ended in a dramatic climax, she snaked her hand around my arm and snuggled a little closer, and her head turned to look up at me. I noticed her face in the corner of my eye but was a little afraid to turn and meet her gaze. As the movie continued, her gaze went back to the screen, and I thought the moment had passed.

As the movie ended and the credits began to scroll, her face turned toward me again. She squeezed my arm a little tighter.

“David,” she whispered. This time I turned, and her eyes loomed large and beautiful in the flickering glow. Her pupils seemed extra large, and I searched her face, trying to read and gauge what was going on.

She scooted, rotating her shoulders, closer moving across my body facing me, her face soft and lips parting, her head turning. My head tilted down, the angles and the fit of our bodies had this perfection to it, this feeling of being exactly right. Somehow, I had moved the popcorn bowl, as she climbed into my lap, her arms circling my neck and she snuggled into my chest, molding herself against me.

“Kiss me,” she whispered huskily, and all my dissipating hesitation and concern completely vanished. My arms came around her, cradling her, and our faces came together, our lips meshing.

Our kiss felt electric and alive! The way our mouths fit together and moved together indescribably held an alluring intrigue and promise, and each movement seemed to draw me in more. The intensity of it elicited a sense of vertigo in me. I felt like I was falling into it, flying, floating with no mooring, and weightless. The world for those moments became only our mouths and the flow of electric hunger between them.  

If my arousal had been gradually mounting earlier, it surged through me then like a large vessel being suddenly shifted to full ahead. Our kissing paused for a few seconds, our foreheads touching intimately, both of us breathing hard. I became more conscious of her slender and tightly curved woman’s body under my hands. I had been stroking her back and hips as we kissed, just wanting more of her, and entirely focused on the kiss.  As our lips found each other again, my hands became more intentional.

My hands slid down over her hips, so supple and curved exquisitely, down and around her tight, young woman’s athletic posterior. She moaned loudly into our kiss, shifting and writhing a little, and her reaction energized me to explore her body more. As the kiss impossibly deepened, a desperate hunger seemed to overtake us, and I lost track of how I was touching her, only that my hands were as hungry of her as my mouth. I wanted to know every part of her, and she seemed eager to let me touch everything. We paused again, both of us moaning unrestrained, breathing hard. I felt my blood seemingly pounded in my neck.