Across the street

Also available in German
Die andere Straßenseite

Ida is writing her new novel as she does every day. She has set herself the goal of writing at least 5,000 words daily to keep her publisher happy. As a bestselling author, she feels pressured; after all, her readers expect a story just as exciting as the previous one. For days, she has been pacing up and down the pompous apartment, she and her husband bought in the center of Rome, always looking out the window to catch a glimpse of her neighbor.

A welcome change can’t hurt, she thinks and sits on the velvety récamiere while watching her young neighbor prepare food. He is at least 10 years younger than her, tall, untamed, godlike. Watching his muscular arms and long fingers precisely picking apart each ingredient, she feels the texture of the cushions burying themselves between her thighs. Ida spreads her legs a little wider and pulls her dress out from under her exposed buttocks. Her longing for the man across the street has become so great that she can hardly concentrate on her book and pays less and less attention to everyday life with her husband. She has grown tired of him, her life, her crime stories, the old apartment with the baroque design elements that she chose herself entirely, and the recurring routine that she encounters day after day. Every second she thinks about the man on the other side of the street, and every second she gets a little closer to wanting to be with him.

As she rubs her voluptuous labia back and forth on the velvety fabric, increasing the pressure slightly, her hazel eyes narrow. Something wild and animalistic tears at her core, makes her wet so that the desire to let him fuck her into oblivion almost consumes her. Then she imagines his adonis body resting under her buttocks, his long fingers exploring all her openings, and how she’s spreading her arousal over his perfect torso before turning around and bringing her sex to his lips as she guides his cock into her mouth. She takes him all in, licking and sucking like it’s the most exquisite thing she’s ever tasted. A true culinary delight. He, on the other hand, dances wildly around her clit with his tongue before thrusting into her vagina, then pressing his thumb into her butt, quickening the pace, changing his finger play, and increasing the pressure. Now and then, they look into each other’s eyes as they let go of each other for a brief moment of satisfying reassurance.

Her whole body quivers at the idea of kneeling over her young neighbor while her sex circles over his face, and she sucks his throbbing cock to climax. Ida feels the wet velvet texture between her eager thighs and wants nothing more than his beautiful fingers, who, mechanically, stop cooking and satisfy her deep desire.

All sorts of scenarios occur in her head, starting with a casual encounter, shopping together at the Campagna Amica market, eccentrically acting out their needs, and inspiring each other for her writing and his cooking—the perfection of a relationship that grows every day. Ida pushes middle and index finger into her wet opening while temperatures simmer high for the man across the street, who rotates plates and frantically rummages for suitable containers. As Ida drives herself further and further on the récamiere, giving free rein to her lust, she imagines herself sitting in his kitchen, enjoying his prepared meal, and him kneeling between her thighs. He spreads her legs and kisses her labia. He consumes her the way she consumes his food. He alternately sucks and licks her clit as he welcomes her juices, melts them on his tongue, and thrusts in and out of her vagina with all his fingers like a maniac. Then he looks up to make sure she’s eating and not getting distracted. He caresses her legs, kisses her pubic hair, and slowly moves his wet fingers from his to her mouth. He notices the heat on Ida’s face, how her cheeks change color, how she moans in pleasure, how she drops her fork and finally throws her head back. At that instant, he violently pushes the chair off the table, stands up, rips the leather belt from his pants, frees his throbbing limb, grabs her black curls, and buries his cock in her mouth. With a deep thrust, he pumps it all the way in before pulling it back, forcing Ida to her knees like a dog in heat, tugging her dress up and spitting on her butt. He then shoves his index and middle fingers into her vagina and his hard cock into her tight ass.

Ida’s imagination of the young neighbor losing control and punishing her for not appreciating his meal brings her to climax. Panting and just sitting on the edge of the récamiere with one hand resting on the windowsill and the other between her thighs, she contemplates the perfect moment of her bliss while the man across the street gets a grip on his mess and sits down at the table to dine. She pushes her middle and index finger deep into her vagina to collect the last drops of her desire. Her body still trembles with ecstasy; her ejaculate splashes on the noble parquet floor as she brings her fingers to her mouth and rubs them with pleasure over her swollen lips, then tastes and indulges one by one. Her hands wander over the delicate fabric of her dress to her stiff nipples. She caresses her breasts before gliding over her quivering belly and pausing between her moist thighs.

With a sigh, she closes her eyes, gently drifting away from her daydreams. An ordinary gesture of the young man catches her attention. Ida observes how he’s devouring his food, staring at his phone, and scratching the back of his head in between. The lovelessness of the scene fills her with horror, so she imagines herself sharing a bed with him, how they live a mundane life, how he gives her a casual kiss before going about his duties, how she longs for inspiration for her latest novel, how she walks up and down the small apartment, how she desperately searches for new decorating ideas, and how she walks past the kitchen window, pulls aside the curtains, and catches sight of an attractive man across the street; a man who doesn’t seem at all strange to her.