Tenant
My mom and I lived in a two-room apartment. She had been divorced from my father for 30 years, and she was now 37. I was finishing 11th grade and it was time for me to go to college, and since, frankly, my grades weren't great, it was clear I'd have to go to a paid program. Mom worked as a dermatologist, with a shift schedule: on even days she worked from morning until afternoon, on odd days—from afternoon until evening. Naturally, a doctor's salary wouldn't be enough to pay for my studies, so we decided to rent out a room. We decided to rent out my room because it was smaller, and I would sleep with my mom in the living room. "I'll endure it for five years," I thought.
We contacted an agency, and the very next day a young guy, a fifth-year student at the law academy, moved in. We liked him immediately. Well-groomed, polite, well-dressed, fit. We sat in the kitchen and had a good talk. He planned to become a lawyer after graduation and described all the advantages of that work. He turned out to be a womanizer because he asked if he could bring girls over, to which my mom responded by asking him to keep it quiet.
The next evening, he brought some beauty with long black hair down to her waist—wow, what a looker, I was even envious. She looked like a model from a magazine cover. Most likely a student, as she was very young. My mom and I were sitting in the living room watching TV when suddenly moans came from the tenant's room. I looked at my mom and smirked slyly. Mom showed no emotion, just kept watching TV and turned up the volume, but the moans kept getting louder, and sometimes you could hear slapping sounds—obviously, of what against what.
Out of curiosity, I started timing it. There was a clock on the wall opposite me. I imagined him pounding that girl, and an erection didn't keep me waiting; I had to slide off the couch and sit on the floor so as not to give myself away. Although I think my mom understood everything. She didn't have a man herself, at least she never gave me any reason to think otherwise. After twenty-five minutes, the sounds died down, but no one came out of the room. After ten minutes, sex reigned again in the next room, which I determined by the same sounds. It lasted about forty minutes. During that time, I went to the bathroom several times. Mom decided to take a shower towards the end.
He brought girls either every evening or every other day. This went on for several weeks. I had already gotten used to it and didn't react as intensely as the first time. I sincerely envied him and was already thinking about how I would also bring girls to this room once I finished college and he had moved out by then. Mom also seemed to take it calmly, as it appeared to me. But it only seemed that way to me...
One day, we were let out of classes early due to a schedule change. I come home, walk into the living room, and again our tenant is fucking someone. Since my mom wasn't home, I went up to the door and started listening to the sound of a man's pubic bone pounding against another girl's crotch. My hand went into my pants... Yes! He was pounding her good, but the girl didn't make much noise, except for occasional sharp, suppressed exhales. Sometimes there was a break of a few seconds in the pounding, and then hard fucking again. "Good job! Good job! Get her!"—I thought, vigorously jerking my dick. Ready to cum, I quickly ran to the bathroom.
After relieving the tension in the bathroom, I came out and went to the kitchen, where it wasn't as audible. I sat there for about twenty minutes, had a snack, and watched TV. I was sitting in such a way that I could see the apartment's front door. I was waiting to see the freshly fucked student girl. Suddenly, there was a click of a door lock (it was the tenant's door opening), and a moment later, my mom appeared in the kitchen... "She was in the apartment. She was in his room... He was fucking her..."—I opened my mouth when I saw her. She was no less surprised, not expecting me back early. Despite being dressed in a terry robe, her appearance gave away that she had just been fucked. She looked exhausted, a bit sweaty, but with a certain sparkle in her eyes...
"Sasha, when did you get here?"—she asked.
"Half an hour ago,"—I replied and stared at her.
She realized I had found out everything but remained silent. I didn't want to say anything to her; I was in shock. But as soon as I remembered how I had just heard my mom being fucked, I got really aroused and went to the bathroom again. Mom was in the bathroom at that time. I jerked off furiously, imagining how the young guy, only five years older than me, was drilling my mom, and I couldn't cum. Finally, I came...
Going into the living room, I saw my mom still in the same robe with a towel wrapped around her head; she was lying on the couch watching TV. That evening, we didn't talk. Then everything went back to normal, except for one thing: now she could calmly go to his room in the evening while I was there (I understood this was when he couldn't pick up a girl) and again I would hear the sounds of sex. Then she would just as calmly come out of his room, take a shower, and go to sleep. I didn't say anything and didn't want to. While the tenant was rapidly working on my mom, I was on the other side of the door jerking off like crazy. It had been three weeks since the day I caught my mom.
I came home early from classes because the teacher was sick. Opening the front door quietly, I entered and saw the following scene in the kitchen. The tenant, with his jeans down, was standing with his back to me, fucking my mom, who was leaning on the table. I knew it was my mom by her slippers, and who else could it be but her. Finally, I saw him pounding my mom... I froze on the spot as if rooted. You could see he was holding her by the shoulders and forcefully pulling her onto his dick. And from my mom, only weak, fragmented moans and slaps, slaps, slaps...
From such a sight and sounds, my pants started to smoke, and I quickly went into the living room and started thinking about what to do. This was already too much... I quickly walked down the hallway and rushed out of the apartment, slamming the door hard. I don't know what happened next, but when I returned, my mom avoided making eye contact. She didn't go to the tenant's room anymore, at least not while I was around. And a week later, our tenant moved out.
I didn't ask the reason for the move, but I guessed that my mom probably asked him to leave because of me. She understood she had gone too far. However, I noticed that my mom sometimes started staying at work longer than usual, or maybe not at work. I began to wonder if she was meeting with the old tenant. But I didn't start following her. Not yet.
A week later, a student my age, an ordinary guy named Roma, moved in instead. He didn't bring girls over, didn't go out at night, and stayed in his room without leaving. But because of him, another story happened when his father came to visit. That's in another story.