Dolores'apartment [hot erotic story]

A 27-year-old Latin American man named Bastian rents a room in Barcelona from Dolores, an attractive 51-year-old blonde woman.

Bastian climbed the stairs of the old building in the Gràcia neighborhood, with his backpack over his shoulder and the suitcase rolling behind him. The afternoon air in Barcelona was warm and carried the faint smell of freshly baked bread from a nearby bakery. He stopped in front of the second-floor door, checked the number on the crumpled piece of paper in his hand, and rang the doorbell.

A few seconds later, the door opened.

Dolores appeared in the doorway. She was a tall woman with blonde hair falling in loose waves to her shoulders. She wore a simple white blouse and tight jeans that accentuated her figure. At 51 years old, she still had an elegant and attractive presence, with fine features and a serene gaze in her clear eyes.

“Bastian, right?” she said in a calm voice with a slight Catalan accent. “Come in, I was waiting for you.”

He stepped into the apartment. The space was bright, with high ceilings and old hydraulic tile floors. The decoration combined modern furniture with vintage pieces: a large gray sofa in the living room, plants on the windows, and abstract paintings on the walls.

Dolores closed the door behind him and gestured for him to follow her down the hallway.

“The room I’m renting you is at the end. It’s the largest after mine. It has its own window overlooking the interior patio, so it’s quite quiet.”

Bastian followed her in silence, observing the way she walked with confident and upright steps. The apartment smelled faintly of vanilla and cleanliness. When they reached the door to the room, Dolores opened it and let him go in first.

The room was larger than he had expected: a well-made double bed, a wooden desk under the window, a built-in wardrobe, and a small empty bookshelf. The afternoon light came in softly through the semi-transparent curtains.

“It’s yours as long as you pay the month in advance,” she said, leaning lightly against the doorframe. “The bathroom you’ll share with me is right across the hall. The kitchen is for common use, and the fridge has marked space for each person.”

Bastian was a 27-year-old Latin American young man, tall and athletic. His skin was fair, almost white, and his fine features gave him an elegant and serene air: high cheekbones, a straight nose, and dark eyes with a calm gaze. He wore his dark brown hair short, styled in a simple and practical way that accentuated his clean features.

He left the suitcase next to the bed and turned to Dolores with a polite smile.

“Thank you very much for having me, Dolores. Everything matches exactly the photos you sent me online. The room looks even better in person.”

She smiled, tilting her head slightly. Her clear eyes scanned him with discreet interest.

“I’m glad you like it. The truth is we arranged everything so quickly through messages… I barely had time to imagine what you’d be like in person.” She paused briefly and added in a soft, almost playful tone, “And I must say the photos you sent me didn’t do you justice. You’re taller than I expected.”

Bastian let out a low laugh, somewhat surprised by the comment.

“Thanks. You too… well, the photos didn’t quite capture how elegant you are. I got the impression from the messages that you were more serious, but in person you give off a lot of warmth.”

Dolores stepped away from the doorframe and took a couple of steps into the room, crossing her arms under her chest naturally. The gesture subtly accentuated her figure.

“I’m serious when I need to be,” she replied with a half-smile. “But I prefer for the coexistence to be pleasant. That’s why I chose to rent the room to someone like you: young, educated, and recommended by the ad. You said you’d be in Barcelona for a few months for work, right? Have you started yet or are you still settling in?”

“Yes, I start next week,” Bastian answered, resting a hand on the back of the desk chair. “I came a few days early to settle in calmly. The truth is I really liked your profile: central apartment, good location, and… a landlady who seems very pleasant and respectful of each person’s space.”

Dolores raised an eyebrow with an amused expression and took another step closer.

“Respectful of space… and also open to having good conversation from time to time. I don’t like living with ghosts.” Her voice lowered a tone, keeping the same cordial tone but with a slightly flirtatious nuance. “If you need anything, Bastian, don’t hesitate to ask me. Anything at all.”

*

A few hours passed. The afternoon had given way to a soft night in Barcelona, and the light from the interior patio filtered dimly through the window of Bastian’s room, tinting the space with a warm bluish tone.

Bastian was lying on the bed, dressed only in tight black boxers. His tall, athletic body stretched across the comforter, one arm behind his head and the other resting on his abdomen. The air in the room was quiet, interrupted only by the faint distant murmur of the city.

His gaze was fixed on the ceiling, but his mind kept returning to the photos he had seen in the living room while Dolores showed him the apartment. They were images of her when she was young: Dolores in her early twenties, posing with the natural elegance of a model. Blonde, tall, with long legs and an intense gaze that seemed to pierce the camera. In those photos she looked radiant, with an almost ethereal beauty, dressed in runway clothes or in outdoor sessions.

Now, at 51, the marks of time were visible: some fine lines around her eyes and forehead, skin no longer as firm as in the photographs, and a softness in the contour of her body that betrayed the years. However, she was still attractive. Very attractive. Maturity had given her a deeper presence, a serene and confident sensuality that the youthful photos lacked. That combination of old elegance and current confidence had stayed with him.

Bastian closed his eyes for a moment, breathing deeply. He remembered how she had moved around the apartment with such naturalness, the way she had looked at him while speaking, the slightly flirtatious tone in her voice when she said “anything at all.”

He shifted slightly on the bed, feeling the heat rise through his skin. The image of a young Dolores in the photos mixed with the real woman he had just met: tall, blonde, with a figure that still retained marked curves and a presence that filled the space.

A few more minutes passed. Bastian was still lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling, when he thought he heard a faint sound breaking the silence of the apartment.

It was a sob. Low, contained, almost choked.

He frowned and sat up slowly. He remained still for a moment, listening. The sound repeated, soft but clear. It was coming from the adjacent room, Dolores’s room.

He got up quietly, dressed only in the black boxers. His bare feet stepped on the cold tile floor. He approached the door of his room and opened it carefully, just a few centimeters. The hallway light was off, but a faint glow came from under Dolores’s door.

Bastian stepped out of his room and silently approached her door. He stopped right beside it and discreetly pressed his ear against it.

Dolores’s voice came muffled through the wood, speaking in a low and broken tone. She was on the phone with a friend.

“…yes, it still happens to me. Especially today. It’s already been five years and I still wake up thinking he’s going to be there…” Her voice broke and she let out another soft sob. “He was so good to me. Sometimes I feel the apartment is too empty without him.”

There was a long pause. The friend must have said something on the other end, because Dolores responded with a trembling sigh:

“No, I’m not alone in the house anymore. Today the new guy arrived… the one I told you about, the Latin American. He’s young, very polite… very handsome.”

*

Bastian left the apartment in the afternoon to run some pending errands: pick up some documents at a nearby office and buy a few basic things for his room. He ate something light at a small tapas bar in Gràcia: a sandwich and a non-alcoholic beer. The sun was still high when he returned.

He climbed the stairs with tired steps and opened the apartment door with his new key. The place was silent. He didn’t run into Dolores; he assumed she had gone out or was in her room. Better that way, he thought. He wasn’t in the mood to talk.

He went straight to his room, closed the door, and dropped his backpack next to the desk. He felt stressed. The move, the new job that would start soon, the pressure of adapting to a new city… everything was piling up in his chest. Plus, it had been weeks since he had had sex. Too long.

He took off his shoes and dropped onto the edge of the bed. After a few seconds, he pulled down his pants and boxers to his ankles. His cock was already half-hard just from the simple touch of the air and the relief of finally being alone.

He closed his eyes and leaned back slightly, supporting himself on one elbow. Images of past sexual experiences came to his mind: intense nights in his hometown, young bodies moving on top of him, warm mouths, muffled moans. The excitement grew quickly.

His right hand moved down and wrapped around his member, which was now fully erect. He began to masturbate with slow and firm movements at first, breathing more deeply. The skin tightened with every stroke. He gradually increased the pace, letting the images become more vivid in his head.

Bastian was still on his bed, with his pants and boxers down to his ankles. His hand moved with a firm and steady rhythm around his erect cock while images of his past experiences played in his mind. His breathing had become heavier and pleasure was beginning to build in his belly.

Then, from the hallway, Dolores’s clear voice came:

“Bastian? Are you there?”

It was a normal, cordial tone, suspecting nothing. It sounded as if she was near her own door, or perhaps in the hallway itself.

Bastian froze. His hand stopped abruptly on his member, which was throbbing hard. His heart gave a violent jump in his chest.

Dolores called again, this time a little closer:

“Bastian… sorry to bother you. Can you come for a moment? I need to ask you something.”

He released his cock, which was still hard and throbbing, and quickly pulled up his boxers and pants. He adjusted his erection as best he could, although it was impossible to fully hide the noticeable bulge in the fabric. He took a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm down, and opened the door to his room.

He walked down the short hallway to the half-open door of Dolores’s room and knocked softly with his knuckles before entering.

“Yes? Did you call me?”

Dolores was reclining on her bed, propped up against several pillows. From the waist down she was covered with a thin white sheet that reached just below her hips. From the waist up she was completely naked. Her large, heavy breasts were in full view, with soft pink nipples. Despite being 51, they were beautiful: round, with a natural droop but still firm, the skin soft with only some light marks of time. Her blonde hair fell loosely over her shoulders.

She had her laptop open on her legs, the screen lighting up her face and chest.

“Ah, Bastian… sorry to bother you,” she said in a natural voice, as if being half-naked in front of him was completely normal. “I’m trying to find a post I saved a few days ago and it’s not showing up anywhere. I think I marked it as a favorite, but I can’t find it. You seem good with these things… could you help me for a moment?”

As she spoke, she sat up a little more against the pillows. The movement made her breasts move heavily, swinging naturally. She made no attempt to cover herself.

Bastian stood beside the bed, trying to keep his eyes on the laptop screen and not on her bare breasts. The erection he had just interrupted was still throbbing hard inside his pants.

“Sure…” he replied, his voice a little hoarse. “Let me see what you’re looking for.”

Dolores turned the laptop slightly toward him and patted the edge of the bed, inviting him to sit closer.

“Was it real flirting or was it the famous uninhibited nature of Barcelona women that I had heard so much about?” Bastian thought as he tried to maintain his composure. The view was pleasant. Very pleasant. He felt his cock, still semi-hard from the interrupted masturbation, growing hard again inside his pants.

He was about to tell her “maybe you should cover up,” but the words didn’t come out. Instead, he stared a few seconds too long before shifting his gaze to the laptop screen.

Dolores seemed to notice his hesitation but made no move to cover herself. On the contrary, she settled more comfortably against the pillows, which made her breasts move naturally.

“Is something wrong?” she asked in an innocent tone, although a slight smile appeared on her lips. “If it bothers you that I’m like this, I can put something on… but it’s hot in the apartment and I’m more comfortable this way. I’m not very formal at home.”

Bastian swallowed. The bulge in his pants was now quite obvious.

“No… it’s fine,” he replied, his voice a little lower than normal. “It’s your house. It’s just… it surprised me a bit.”

He sat on the edge of the bed, close to her, trying to focus on the laptop. Dolores turned the screen toward him and leaned slightly forward to point with her finger.

“Look, I saved this post about photography courses here, but now it’s not showing in my favorites. Can you see if you can find it?”

As she spoke, her shoulder brushed softly against Bastian’s arm. The soft scent of her skin and the warmth emanating from her naked body were very close.

Bastian opened his mouth to respond, but his mind was divided between the screen and the image of Dolores’s large bare breasts just half a meter away.

Bastian felt a strange mix of nerves and excitement. He didn’t exactly know how he felt being in a situation like this with a woman much older than him. Dolores was twenty-four years older. She was the landlady, attractive, mature, and now she was practically naked from the waist up, less than a meter away, as if it were nothing.

Trying to concentrate, he moved the laptop slightly toward him. As he did so, he deliberately let his elbow brush softly against the pink nipple of her right breast. The contact was brief but clear: her warm, soft skin against his arm.

Dolores didn’t flinch. She didn’t even change her expression. She continued looking at the screen naturally, as if the brush hadn’t happened.

“Try searching in ‘Favorites’ and then in ‘Recently Saved’,” she said calmly.

Bastian, under the excuse of searching for the saved post, began to move his arm more frequently, moving the cursor across the screen. Each movement caused his elbow and forearm to repeatedly brush against Dolores’s breasts. Her large, heavy breasts swayed gently with every touch: rising and falling, swinging from side to side. The pink nipple visibly hardened with the continuous brushing.

Dolores continued acting as if everything were completely normal. She looked at the screen, occasionally commenting on some link that appeared, and only occasionally let out a small “mmh” when the movement was more pronounced. She didn’t cover herself. She didn’t pull away. Her breathing remained calm, although her nipples were now clearly erect.

Bastian felt his own cock completely hard inside his pants, pressing forcefully against the fabric. The bulge was obvious. Every time he moved his arm, Dolores’s breasts swayed heavily, offering him a clear and close view.

“Here’s one that looks interesting…” he murmured, his voice a little hoarser than normal, while his forearm brushed once again against the side of one of her breasts, making it swing with more force.

Dolores simply nodded, without taking her eyes off the screen.

“Yes, that could be it. Open it and let’s see.”

Bastian felt his penis completely hard under his pants, pressing forcefully against the fabric and forming a very obvious bulge. The excitement was almost uncomfortable.

He continued moving his arm under the excuse of searching on the laptop. Now, more deliberately, he used his elbow to stimulate Dolores’s pink nipple directly. He brushed it in slow, soft circles, then pressed it lightly, feeling the nipple harden even more under his touch. Her large breasts swayed with every movement, heavy and soft.

The “saved post” game could no longer be extended much further. After a few minutes, Bastian finally found the link she said she had saved.

“Here it is,” he said in a hoarse voice, pointing at the screen.

Dolores looked at the link and let out a low, almost involuntary moan when Bastian’s elbow pressed one last time with more intention on her nipple. It was a soft, deep sound that escaped from her throat. Immediately afterward, she cleared her throat and smiled naturally.

“Thank you, Bastian… that was exactly the one. You saved me.”

She sat up a little more on the bed. Her large breasts swayed heavily with the movement. She made no attempt to cover herself.

Bastian removed his hand from the laptop and stood up from the bed. His erection was so evident that it was impossible to hide it completely. His pants clearly outlined the shape of his hard cock.

“You’re welcome,” he replied, trying to make his voice sound normal. “If you need anything else…”

Dolores looked him directly in the eyes, with a serene expression but with a different sparkle in her gaze.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Bastian left her room and closed the door carefully behind him. Once in the hallway, he let out the breath he had been holding. His heart was beating hard and his penis remained rigid, throbbing inside his pants. He returned to his room, closed the door, and leaned against it for a moment, still feeling the warmth and texture of Dolores’s nipple on his elbow.

Bastian closed the door to his room and stood there for a moment leaning against it, confused. His breathing was agitated and his mind was full of contradictory images: Dolores’s large bare breasts, the pink nipple hardened under his elbow, the soft moans she had let out, her complete naturalness while being exposed in front of him.

After standing there for a minute, not knowing quite what to do with everything he was feeling, he approached the bed and pulled down his pants and boxers again. His cock sprang free, still very hard and with the tip already wet.

He lay on his back, closed his eyes, and wrapped his member with his right hand. He began to masturbate with firm and fast movements. In his mind there was only Dolores’s breasts: large, heavy, swinging with every brush of his elbow, the pink nipples erect, the way they moved when she leaned toward the laptop.

He remembered perfectly the softness of the skin, the weight he could sense in them, how they swayed heavily. He imagined touching them directly, squeezing them, feeling their warmth.

The pleasure rose quickly. His hand moved faster and faster, squeezing with more force. His breathing became choppy. In less than two minutes he felt he was reaching the limit.

With a low, contained groan, he ejaculated. Thick, hot jets of semen shot out of his cock, landing on his abdomen and chest as his body tensed. He continued masturbating until he squeezed out the last drop, with the image of Dolores’s large, mature breasts still fresh in his mind.

When he finished, he lay there for a while, breathing heavily, with semen spread across his skin and a mixture of relief and confusion still swirling in his head.

*

Bastian woke up early the next morning. Still in bed, he closed his eyes and let the memories of the previous night invade him: Dolores’s naked body on all fours, her round ass slamming against him, the way her tight vagina had received him, the soft moans she let out while pretending to look at the laptop, and the moment he ejaculated deep inside her.

His hand moved down to his cock, which was already hard. He masturbated with firm and fast movements, remembering the wet heat of her interior and how her large breasts swayed with every thrust. In a few minutes he reached orgasm, ejaculating onto his abdomen with a low, contained groan. He stayed there for a few seconds catching his breath, then cleaned himself with a paper towel and got up.

He showered, dressed in elegant sportswear: dark chinos and a well-fitted white shirt that accentuated his shoulders and chest. He left his room with his short hair still damp.

In the hallway he ran into Dolores. She was already ready to go out. She was wearing a light beige dress that hugged her mature figure, accentuating her hips and breasts. She wore high black heels that made her legs look even longer. Her blonde hair fell loosely over her shoulders and she had discreet makeup.

“Good morning, Bastian,” she said in a calm and friendly voice, as if it were any other day. “I’ll be out all day today. I have several things to take care of outside. I’ll see you tonight.”

There was not a single sign in her tone or expression of what had happened the night before. No embarrassment, no complicity, no discomfort. Just naturalness.

Bastian nodded.

“Good morning. Have a good day.”

Dolores picked up her bag, gave him a brief and serene smile, and headed for the door. As she walked, her heels echoed elegantly on the tiles. Bastian stayed watching her as she walked away: the way the dress moved over her body, the curve of her hips, the confidence with which she walked despite being 51. He saw her as a mature beauty, attractive and self-assured.

When the door closed behind her, the apartment fell silent.

Bastian stood in the hallway for a few seconds, processing the natural way Dolores had acted.

Bastian spent the day at work with his mind divided. At times he concentrated on his tasks, but at others the image of Dolores on all fours on the bed returned to him, receiving his thrusts with that surprising calm while pretending to look at the laptop. The naturalness with which she had acted that morning disconcerted him even more.

When he returned to the apartment it was already night, after nine o’clock. He opened the door and noticed that the lights in the living room were on. Dolores had returned.

She was sitting on the gray sofa, legs crossed. She wore a short black silk robe that barely covered half of her thighs. Her blonde hair was loose and slightly wavy. On the low table there was a half-drunk glass of red wine and a second empty glass, as if she had been waiting for him.

When she heard the door, Dolores looked up and smiled softly.

“Hi, Bastian. How was your day?”

“Long,” he replied, leaving the keys in the entryway. “But good. And yours?”

“Productive,” she said simply. She pointed to the empty glass. “Would you like a glass of wine? I just opened it.”

Bastian hesitated for a second but ended up approaching. He sat on the sofa at a prudent distance from her. Dolores served the wine calmly and handed him the glass. As she leaned forward, the robe opened slightly at the top, revealing the beginning of her breasts.

Bastian took the glass of wine and took a sip. The dark red liquid had an intense and somewhat fruity flavor.

Dolores leaned back a little more against the sofa and let out a soft sigh.

“I had a very stressful day,” she said in a low, almost tired voice. “I ran from one place to another, lots of errands, lots of noise… The heels have left my feet destroyed.”

Bastian instinctively looked down. Dolores’s long, elegant feet rested barefoot on the rug. He remembered how much he had liked them that morning.

“If you want… I can massage your feet,” he offered in a natural tone. “I like giving massages and I’m pretty good at it.”

Dolores looked at him with a half-smile, raising an eyebrow slightly.

“How kind… But I’m the masseuse here, remember?” she replied softly. “Although the truth is a foot massage would do me a lot of good right now.”

She paused briefly, observing him calmly, and then added:

“I have a better proposal. Tomorrow night, when we’re both more relaxed, I’ll give you a full-body massage. The kind I know how to give. It will be long and deep. Would you like that?”

Bastian felt a slight heat rise up his neck. The idea of being naked under Dolores’s hands immediately appealed to him.

“Yes… I’d like that,” he answered without hesitating too much. “I accept.”

Bastian set the wine glass on the table and shifted on the sofa to position himself better. Dolores stretched her legs and placed both feet on his lap without saying anything else.

As soon as his hands made contact with Dolores’s feet, Bastian’s entire fetish was instantly activated. They were long, elegant, and well-cared-for feet, with a pronounced arch, slender toes, and soft skin. The fact that they belonged to an attractive, self-assured mature woman gave him a special thrill he had never felt with anyone younger.

He began massaging the soles with his thumbs, pressing firmly from the heel to the base of the toes. Dolores let out a sigh of pleasure and tilted her head back, resting it on the back of the sofa. Her eyes partially closed.

Bastian felt his excitement growing rapidly. After a few minutes of traditional massage, he decided to try his prepared excuse.

“I learned a Chinese reflexology technique,” he said in a low, calm voice. “It includes finger pressure, but also… kissing and lightly sucking the energy points. They say it’s very effective for releasing tension. Would you like me to try it?”

Dolores didn’t open her eyes. She kept her head tilted back and replied in a relaxed tone:

“Do whatever you know, Bastian. If it feels good, keep going.”

He needed no further permission. He leaned forward and brought his face close to Dolores’s right foot. First he kissed the sole softly, then ran his tongue slowly along the arch. Then he took one of her long toes between his lips and sucked it gently, sucking carefully while his tongue caressed it.

The slightly salty taste of her skin and the soft scent of her body cream gave him an immediate erection. His cock hardened inside his pants as he continued kissing and sucking Dolores’s toes with dedication. He switched to the left foot and repeated the process: wet kisses, slow licks along the sole, and gentle sucking on each toe.

Dolores breathed more deeply, but kept her head back and her eyes half-closed. From time to time she let out a small, almost inaudible moan of approval.

“It feels good…” she murmured without changing position. “Keep going.”

Bastian continued massaging with his hands and stimulating with his mouth, alternating between both feet. His excitement was becoming more and more evident; the bulge in his pants was now very pronounced. The more he kissed and sucked those mature, elegant feet, the more aroused he felt.

Dolores remained relaxed on the sofa, letting him do exactly what he wanted with her feet.

Bastian looked up slightly while still kissing and sucking the toes of Dolores’s left foot. His voice came out hoarse and low:

“It’s very hot in here… Maybe you’d feel more comfortable if you opened your robe a little.”

Dolores opened her eyes slowly and looked at him for a moment. Without saying another word, she brought her hands to the knot of the black silk robe and untied it naturally. She opened the garment completely, leaving her mature body fully exposed.

Her large, heavy breasts were freed, resting on her torso. Lower down, her mature pussy came into view: thick, soft lips, slightly swollen, with a small, well-groomed triangle of blonde pubic hair. The skin of her thighs and belly showed the natural marks of her 51 years, which only increased Bastian’s arousal.

He didn’t stop working with his mouth. He continued sucking Dolores’s toes with greater intensity, running his tongue between them and sucking them with dedication, while his hands firmly massaged the soles.

Dolores let out a long, deep sigh. One of her hands slowly moved down her body until it reached her pussy. Without hurry, she parted her lips with two fingers and began to masturbate with slow, circular movements over her clitoris. Her fingers moved calmly at first, then with a more steady rhythm.

Her breasts rose and fell with each deeper breath. From time to time she let out a low, deep moan, without taking her eyes off the ceiling.

Bastian could hear the soft, wet sound of Dolores’s fingers rubbing her mature pussy, very close to his face. His own cock throbbed painfully inside his pants while he continued sucking and licking her feet with devotion, alternating between both.

Dolores accelerated the movement of her hand a little. Her hips moved slightly upward, seeking more friction, while her feet remained firmly on Bastian’s lap.

“Keep going…” she murmured in a hoarse voice, without stopping masturbating. “Don’t stop.”

Bastian could no longer contain himself. With agitated breathing, he opened the button and zipper of his pants and pulled out his erect cock. It was very hard, with the swollen head shiny with precum that was already leaking from the tip.

“This is also part of the Chinese technique,” he said in a hoarse, almost breathless voice. “It helps cleanse bad energies… to balance the flow.”

He took Dolores’s long, soft feet with both hands and placed them around his erect cock. The warm, silky skin of her soles completely enveloped his member.

Dolores said nothing. She simply accepted the new contact with naturalness. She began to move her feet slowly at first, masturbating him with them. Her right foot pressed on the upper part of the cock while the left slid underneath, creating a smooth and rhythmic movement. Her long toes flexed and brushed the sensitive head with each pass.

At the same time, her right hand continued masturbating her mature pussy with increasingly fast and firm movements. Her fingers sank between her swollen lips, rubbing her clitoris with precise circles. Her pussy was now visibly wet, with shiny lips.

With her left hand, Dolores massaged one of her large breasts. She squeezed it hard, kneading it, pinching the pink nipple between her fingers and pulling it gently. Her breasts moved heavily with each agitated breath.

Bastian moaned softly as he watched the scene. Dolores’s elegant, mature feet masturbated him with skill: they moved up and down along his cock, squeezing at some moments and loosening at others. The soft sole rubbed his entire length, while her toes played with the swollen head.

Dolores had her head tilted back, eyes half-closed and mouth slightly open. Her hips moved in small circles against her own hand, and her moans became deeper and more frequent.

The wet sound of her pussy being masturbated mixed with the rubbing of her feet on Bastian’s hard cock. Both stimulated each other in silence, broken only by heavy breathing and occasional moans.

Bastian felt his head confused. Part of him didn’t know how to act in such a strange and charged situation, but his body was filled with burning desire. The pleasure Dolores’s feet gave him was too intense. Her soft, warm soles masturbated his cock with a steady rhythm, while she continued rubbing her mature pussy with her hand and kneading one of her large breasts.

When he felt he was about to ejaculate, Bastian could no longer hold back.

“This is so the stress goes away completely…” he murmured in a hoarse, choppy voice.

He quickly removed Dolores’s feet from his cock, got up on his knees on the sofa, and brought the head of his erect penis to her mouth. Without asking permission, he pushed the tip between her lips.

Dolores opened her mouth naturally and let him in. Bastian pushed his cock halfway in and began to fuck her mouth with short, urgent movements.

A few seconds later, he let out a deep groan and ejaculated. Thick, hot jets of semen shot forcefully into Dolores’s mouth. His cock throbbed violently as he emptied himself completely.

She swallowed all his semen effortlessly. Her throat moved several times, receiving every spurt until Bastian finished ejaculating. She didn’t spit anything out. She continued sucking the head of his cock gently while he trembled from the last contractions of his orgasm.

When Bastian pulled out, breathing with difficulty, Dolores wiped the corner of her lips with the back of her hand with total calm.

Bastian was still breathing heavily when Dolores, in a low voice and with a slightly more commanding tone, said:

“Now, darling… lick my pussy.”

He didn’t hesitate. He got off the sofa and knelt on the floor in front of her. Dolores opened her legs naturally, leaving her mature vagina completely exposed. Her lips were swollen and shiny from the accumulated excitement.

Bastian brought his face between her thighs and began to lick her. His tongue first ran slowly over the outer lips, then parted the folds and sank into her hot, wet entrance. Her taste was intense and slightly sweet.

Dolores let out a deep, grave moan, tilting her head back against the sofa. One of her hands rested on Bastian’s head, guiding him gently but firmly.

He sucked her clitoris with dedication, sucking it between his lips and moving his tongue in quick, firm circles. He alternated between sinking his tongue inside her pussy and licking the swollen clitoris with steady pressure. From time to time he inserted two fingers into her, fucking her with them while continuing to suck.

Dolores began to breathe faster. Her hips moved against Bastian’s face, seeking more friction. Her large breasts rose and fell with every gasp.

It didn’t take long.

Within a few minutes, her body tensed. Her thighs squeezed Bastian’s head and she let out a long, deep, prolonged moan. Her pussy contracted visibly around his fingers as she reached orgasm. A small jet of hot fluid wet Bastian’s mouth and chin.

Dolores shuddered several times, keeping her hand on his head until the pleasure slowly subsided. When it was over, she let out a long sigh and relaxed her body on the sofa.

That night they slept together in Dolores’s bed. After what happened on the sofa, she simply took Bastian by the hand and led him to her room. They lay down naked under the sheets. Dolores fell asleep pressed against his back, her large breasts pressed against him.

The next morning, around eight o’clock, the soft Barcelona light came in through the curtains.

Dolores woke up first. She stretched slowly and felt Bastian’s young, warm body beside her. She smiled lazily and turned toward him. Her hand went straight down to the boy’s crotch and found his morning semi-erect cock. She began to masturbate him with slow, firm movements, feeling it harden quickly between her fingers.

Bastian opened his eyes with a low moan. When he saw Dolores naked beside him, with her blonde hair tousled and her large breasts resting on the sheet, his cock jumped and became fully hard.

“Good morning…” she murmured in a hoarse, sensual voice, without stopping stroking him.

She moved closer and kissed his neck while her hand continued working his cock with a steady rhythm. Then she lowered her head and took the tip into her mouth. She sucked eagerly, sinking her lips halfway down his length, while her tongue circled the swollen head.

Bastian groaned and placed a hand on Dolores’s blonde head, gently pushing downward. She let him and swallowed deeper, drooling abundantly over his cock.

After a few minutes, Dolores climbed on top of him. She straddled his hips, took the hard cock with one hand and rubbed it several times against her already wet mature pussy. Then she slowly lowered herself, letting the thick penis penetrate her all the way to the bottom.

“Ahh… you feel so good in the morning…” she whispered.

She began to ride him with slow and deep movements at first. Her large breasts rose and fell heavily with every motion. Bastian grabbed them with both hands, squeezing them hard, pinching the pink nipples between his fingers.

Dolores increased the pace. Now she moved faster, fucking him with gusto. The wet, fleshy sound of her pussy swallowing his cock filled the room. Her mature ass slapped against Bastian’s thighs with every downward thrust.

Bastian held her by the hips and began to thrust upward into her with force. Every time he raised his pelvis, his cock went all the way in, hitting against Dolores’s cervix. She moaned louder, with her mouth open and eyes half-closed.

“Harder… like that…” she gasped.

They changed position. Dolores got on all fours on the bed. Bastian knelt behind her and penetrated her with one deep thrust. He grabbed her wide hips tightly and began to fuck her with fast, brutal strokes. Her breasts hung and swung violently back and forth. Dolores’s large ass bounced against his pelvis with every impact.

Bastian gave her several hard spanks, leaving red marks on her fair skin. Dolores responded by pushing her ass back, asking for more.

Finally, Bastian laid her on her back, lifted her legs and put them over his shoulders. He fucked her in that position with deep, fast thrusts, watching how his cock went in and out of Dolores’s wet, mature pussy. Her breasts moved uncontrollably.

Dolores came first. Her body tensed, she let out a long, deep moan, and her pussy contracted hard around Bastian’s cock as she came intensely.

Bastian couldn’t hold back any longer. With an animal groan, he sank all the way in and ejaculated inside her. Hot, thick jets of semen filled her vagina while his cock throbbed violently. He continued thrusting during the orgasm, emptying himself completely inside her.

When he finished, he collapsed on top of her, both of them panting and sweaty. Bastian’s semen began to slowly leak out of Dolores’s pussy, trickling down her ass.

Dolores ran her nails along Bastian’s back and murmured in his ear:

“What a good way to start the day…”

Bastian was still panting on top of her, his semi-erect cock still inside her pussy, when Dolores caressed his back with her nails and spoke in a hoarse but serene voice:

“Thank you, darling… It was a very nice way to start the day.”

She gave him a soft kiss on the lips and then, with a hand on his chest, gently pushed him away.

“Now leave me alone for a while,” she said naturally, without rudeness but with firmness. “I want to stay in bed for a moment.”

Bastian withdrew from her slowly. A thick strand of semen mixed with Dolores’s fluids escaped from her vagina and ran between her buttocks. He looked at her for a second: naked, legs open, her pussy red and swollen, and his semen leaking from inside her.

He got up from the bed, still naked, and left the room without saying anything else.

Once in the hallway, he felt his nervous system was completely overstimulated. His heart was beating hard, his skin was hot and sensitive, and his mind was spinning. The image of Dolores cumming underneath him, her deep moans, the way her mature pussy had squeezed his cock, and how she had swallowed his semen the night before, everything repeated uncontrollably in his head.

He entered his room, closed the door, and leaned against it for a moment. His cock, still shiny with Dolores’s juices, hung semi-erect between his legs. He ran his hands through his short hair, breathing deeply, trying to calm down.

He felt strange: excited, confused, and with a nervous energy running through his entire body. He didn’t know if he wanted to go back to bed with her or step away for a while to process what was happening.

Bastian remained sitting on the edge of the bed for a few more minutes, trying to regain control of his breathing and his thoughts. He could still smell Dolores on his skin and taste her pussy in his mouth.

Finally he got up, went into the shared bathroom, and took a hot shower. He washed himself thoroughly, but couldn’t completely shake off the feeling of what had just happened. His cock remained sensitive and half-hard every time he remembered how he had ejaculated inside her.

He got out of the shower, dried himself, and dressed in clean sportswear: dark gray chinos and a fitted black polo shirt. He looked at himself in the mirror for a moment. His face was slightly flushed and his eyes were bright.

He left his room quietly. Dolores’s bedroom door was still closed. He didn’t run into her.

He went down the building stairs and stepped out onto the street. The fresh morning air in Gràcia hit his face.

*

His mind was different from usual.

As he walked toward the metro entrance, his gaze no longer focused on the young girls his age who passed by. Instead, he felt almost automatically drawn to attractive mature women. A woman in her forties, tall and elegant, with heels and a pencil skirt, caught his attention for several seconds. Another, around fifty, blonde like Dolores, with generous curves and a confident way of walking, made him stare longer than necessary.

He saw their bodies with different eyes: wider hips, heavier breasts, fine wrinkles around the eyes, confidence in their posture. Everything now seemed strangely erotic to him. He imagined their mature breasts swaying, their soft asses, and their experienced pussies.

On the metro, a 48-year-old woman, brunette, with glasses and a generous cleavage, sat in front of him. Bastian couldn’t help but lower his gaze to her chest and crossed legs. He felt a familiar tingle in his groin and had to cross his legs to hide the semi-erection that was starting to form.

His mind kept returning again and again to Dolores: to how she had ridden him that morning, to how she had swallowed his semen the night before, to the naturalness with which she had told him “leave me alone.”

He arrived at work with his head somewhere else. Throughout the day, every time he saw an attractive mature woman, his body reacted. It was as if a switch had been flipped inside him.

To be continued in Part II
Coming soon…