I’d only been in my apartment for a few days when there was a knock on the door. Who could know I was here? When I opened the door there was a middle-aged Hispanic woman who I recognized. I’d helped her when she was struggling with her groceries yesterday. Hey, it was just the gentlemanly thing to do.

She was holding a plate of cookies and asked in heavily accented English, “You like cookies?” I nodded and invited her in.

I asked her if she would like some tea or coffee or soda and she selected soda so I took her to my refrigerator to pick out the kind she liked. This is my first friend in my new neighborhood, if you could call a multi-story urban apartment building a neighborhood. We munched on the cookies and drank our beverage. I usually have ice tea in the summer or hot tea in the winter, and I found out her name was Yelsenia. I knew where she lived from helping her with the groceries and it was two floors away from my place.

In our discussion with her rough English, and my total lack of Spanish, I determined that she was pretty lonely here. Her husband worked second shift and her children were grown and gone. She had made few friends so I figured she was reaching out to me as someone who had been nice to her.

I was able to communicate to her that I worked at home much of the time and I did need to get back to it but thanked her very much for the tasty cookies. She seemed to be delighted at that simple complement and hugged me before she left. Between English and sign language she asked me if I would like some more tomorrow. They were good and I could always use a little break, plus I sensed that she really needed it, so I nodded my head and said “yes”.

Sure enough, the next afternoon about the same time there she was with some different cookies she had baked. I remembered the type of soda she had picked and got it for her and we visited.

This happened every day and she seemed to really like visiting with me. I learned that she had been married 20 years and was born in this country but in a part of it where Spanish was spoken far more than English. When I asked how I could thank her, she said that speaking English with her and helping her with it was the best thing I could do.

I noticed that she only came to me on weekdays when her husband was working. She asked me to not speak to her if he was present because he was very jealous. I sensed that there was some kind of tension between them.

We’ve been having these regular tea and cookie get-togethers for almost three weeks when she made a somewhat surprising question, “You look at these a lot.” She put her hands under her ample and pendulous breasts and pushed them upward. “Do you not have a girlfriend?” When I shook my head, she continued, “You have no mamárias to touch? Then I let you like mine.” She pulled up her blouse and her braless breasts swung freely with nipples projecting very noticeably.

When I hesitated at this completely unexpected invitation, she moved forward and pushed a projecting nipple in my mouth. I reflexively sucked it and she sighed in obvious enjoyment. My hands got busy and she closed her eyes in pleasure.

After a bit she stood up and dropped her jeans and panties. In a commanding tone of voice she ordered, “You like this too!” Hell yes! I reached for her dark fur covered crotch and had my fingers in the first pussy in a long time. She purred and soon shook in a climax.

That was quickly followed by another order, “Fóllame!” I don’t know much Spanish but I knew exactly what she meant. Moments later my erection was probing her cunt and slid inside with some effort. She was tighter than I expected an older woman to be, but what did I know, only having a few near my own age.

“Fóllame! Fóllame!” she cried out as I thrust fast and furiously. When she writhed in her peak pleasure I got mine as long pent up semen blasted out of my cock into the eager receptacle.

We lay together panting. She kissed me for the first time and said softly, “You good man.” What a wonderful compliment!