The apartment next door had been vacant for almost a year. One day I came home to find movers carrying boxes and furniture into it. The furniture was kind of odd looking, and everything smelled of incense. It was a few days before I met the new neighbors, and to my surprise it was an Indian woman and her son.
She was sweet but seemed kind of sad and lonely. Long, straight black hair coming off her shoulders, intense dark eyes, plump sexy red lips, and dark skin. The first time we met I instantly became attracted to her. She wore a gray sari and gold top and lots of gold bangles, and she had dark skin and a sexy smile. She smelled strongly of sweat, body odor, curry, incense, clove and other exotic odors. It was a definite turn on.
She was very Indian looking and very out of place in my small city in the mountains of North Carolina. I knew the first time we met that I had to fuck her.
I ran into her the next day and started chatting her up. Her name was Priyanka. Turned out she moved here to America with her son for work after her husband left her in India for a younger woman. I couldn't help myself but flirt, it's who I am around pretty MILFs.
"Husband left you for a younger woman, you'll just have to try harder to get your next man," I teased. She blushed and looked down, then with her head still down turner her dark sexy eyes back up, staring into my eyes.
"Yes," she said, "I suppose I need to learn how to be a good American woman."
"You'll be fine," I said as I reached out and daringly stroked the side of her face. Something about the smell of an Indian woman, and the softness of their skin, gets my heart racing. It was no different with Priyanka that day. I smiled and said goodbye.
Over the next few weeks we ran into each other, and I met her son who seemed decent but a little quiet. Every time I ran into Priyanka I would find a reason to tease her and touch her. She started touching me back. At first she seemed very shy - she had been with no other man than her husband for almost 20 years. She would touch my arm then shyly draw her hand back. One time I held her hand for a minute and she flushed from her exposed upper chest into her face. It was sexy, and I could see her big dark Indian nipples get hard under her sari.
She always wore her Indian-looking clothes, so I'd tease her, "When are you getting your t-shirt and jeans?" and we'd have a good laugh.
What Priyanka didn't know is that because of the shape of our apartment building, the sounds from her apartment would echo off a wall and I could clearly hear them in my bedroom. At first I heard soft whimpering crying. She was crying for everything she had lost in India. It made me sad to think of such a beautiful lady feeling so lonely. After a week or so, it turned into soft moans. I thought it was the T.V. but it was the same every night: rhythmic, soft grunts with the occasional slap of skin on skin. She was masturbating, I realized. I began to picture her sexy, mature henna covered hand softly rubbing a hairy dark pussy. It turned me on, and a few times I stroked my cock to her rhythmic masturbations. One time I even thought I heard her say my name.
I had been fucking a lot of women that summer, and almost always had at least half an erection going because often I wouldn't cum after hours of fucking. My white cock is over 8 inches long and 6 inches around, with a big head. One morning after I had fucked a young MILF almost all night, my beard smelling of pussy, I was out in front of my apartment wearing just shorts, no underwear, and a tight T-shirt that showed off my muscular lean body. No doubt my cock was hanging down in my shorts, heavy and throbbing because I still hand't cum yet that day.
