I Became That Old Driver’s Slave Again

For those who don’t know me, my name is Carla, though almost everyone calls me Carli. I’ve been married to Diego for years and I work as an office administrator at a logistics company. I’ve got a certain advantage at the office, truth be told, because with my boss Marcos, the relationship stopped being strictly professional a long time ago. But he’s not the one I want to talk about today.

What I really need to tell you about is the reunion I had with a man I met more than eight years ago, during a coach trip I took to go pick up my mother-in-law in another province. A trip I never forgot.

That afternoon, when I got out of work, I stopped by the bus terminal to pick up an envelope with some paperwork. When I turned my head to go back to the car, I saw him: a man dressed as a driver, standing in front of the ticket window of one of the long-distance companies, staring straight at me. It took me a second to place him, but it was him. Don Aníbal. The driver from that trip, the one who had given me a pleasure I never managed to repeat with anyone else.

He was grayer and thicker, of course; time spares no one. I was a bit fuller too than I had been back then. He came over with a half-smile.

—You’re Carli, right? —he said, as if he wasn’t completely sure.

—Of course. And you’re Don Aníbal —I replied, and we greeted each other with a kiss on the cheek, keeping our distance, because at a terminal there’s always someone you know and I wasn’t in the mood to give explanations.

While he talked to me I could already feel a tingle climbing up my belly. He told me he was sixty-three and about to retire, that he’d stop driving those two-story monsters, and that he had just come back from a long trip. He was leaving at dawn for the north, but until then he had the afternoon free. He said it slowly, like someone testing the waters.

—I’d gladly spend a few hours of rest with such a beautiful lady —he added—. The company rents me a house nearby. If you want to come with me…

I gave him my number so he could send me the location. I needed a few minutes to make up an excuse, because I wasn’t going to make it home at my usual time.

What are you doing, Carla?, I asked myself. But I already knew the answer.

***

Luckily, the alibi came together on its own. I called Diego from the car and, before I could say anything, he told me he wouldn’t be home early either: he was going to play soccer with his friends. I hung up, took a deep breath, and looked at the location that had just come through on my phone. I loaded the address into the GPS and set off, thinking of only one thing.

I didn’t have time to go home or change. I barely touched up my makeup in the rearview mirror and put on a little more perfume. Anyway, I always dress nicely for work. I was wearing a French blue sweater, a black denim skirt, and a white blouse, with a gray wool blazer over it. Underneath, a nude set, lace bra and thong, sheer skin-colored stockings, and high-heeled leather shoes. Quite the office secretary, except no office ends like this.

I arrived and found him standing on the sidewalk, smoking. He has an imposing presence: gray mustache, broad back, that confidence of an older man who doesn’t need to rush for anything. He let me in and, as soon as he closed the door, we melted into a kiss we’d both been holding back since the terminal.

I clung to him, surrendered. It wasn’t just desire; it was something harder to explain: the urge to obey, to let him set the pace the way he drove those huge buses. I felt his smell of man, the bulge growing against my belly, and my legs went weak while, still embracing, he led me toward a couch.

—Look at how you’re dressed —he murmured, sliding my blazer off my shoulders—. A proper secretary. Is that how you go around tempting people all day?

—Only for you —I played along, and I liked how it sounded.

I asked him if we could go to the bedroom, because his fellow travelers could show up at any moment. He agreed, but before that he hugged me from behind, one firm hand on each breast, his lips pressed to my nape.

—Slowly —he said—. I’m in charge here.

Those three words melted me. He pulled me tighter against him, his hands sliding down my waist, my hips, my thighs encased in the sheer stockings.

—You look gorgeous, Carli —he whispered.

I couldn’t take it anymore. I knelt in front of him, pulled down his fly and, with some difficulty, freed what I remembered so well. It was already hard and hot, with the strong scent of a man who’d been on the road for hours. I didn’t care about anything. I took it into my mouth and started licking it, sucking it, focused on making him come while he dug his fingers into my hair without tugging, just guiding me.

—Like that, slowly —he ordered—. Don’t rush.

I obeyed him. I ran my tongue along the groove, kissed it all over, and every command of his soaked me even more. He slid one hand between my legs and touched my wet stockings, no longer bothering to hide it.

—Look at how wet you are —he said, almost laughing—. And we haven’t even started yet.

***

I got up because I couldn’t take it anymore; I was burning to have him inside me. He hugged me from behind again, his cock shamelessly pressed against my ass, and led me down a hallway to one of the bedrooms. There were two single beds; one was unmade, so he pointed to the other with a gesture. Even for that, he was in charge.

I started taking my clothes off. I removed the sweater, then the skirt, then the blouse, until I stood in front of him in my lace bra. I took that off too. He was already naked, his sturdy body, his pronounced belly, his dark skin shining in the warm lamplight. I kept on the sheer stockings, the thong, and the high heels, because I knew he liked it that way better.

—Keep it like that —he said, and the order ran down my spine again like an electric current.

We embraced once more, our tongues tangled, his rough mustache against my mouth. He helped me lie back and climbed on top of me, pressing his cock over my thong, rubbing it over the lycra without hurry, making me wait. I arched my pelvis toward him, searching, but he controlled every movement.

When he finally shifted the thong aside and took me by the hips, I felt him making his way in slowly, opening me wide. I moaned, completely crushed beneath his body, suddenly filled.

—That’s it —he said against my ear—. Now yes.

I wrapped my legs around his waist. The rhythm was perfect, deep, unhurried, as if he had the whole afternoon to use me. And he did.

—Give me more —I asked him, feeling like a total surrender, a woman who only wanted to obey—. More, please.

The tingle climbed up my belly and I knew the first orgasm was close. It came in waves while he held my wrists against the mattress and pumped me with a calm that drove me crazy.

***

When I caught my breath, I asked for what I really wanted that afternoon. I wanted him to finish somewhere else. I wanted to give him everything. He stopped, looked at me, and smiled with that old-man confidence.

—You can take it there, pretty girl? —he asked, cocky.

—Of course I can —I replied, still with him inside me—. It’s what I want most.

I turned onto my side, spooning, with my back to him, and lifted my hips, offering myself. I closed my eyes. I felt him settle in behind me, hugging me against his chest, guiding the tip toward where I was waiting for him. He pushed slowly, met resistance, and waited.

—Easy —he said—. I’ll take you there.

And it was me who, pushing my hips back, let him in little by little. It burned, a mix of pain and something much more intense than pain. He tightened his hold, kissed my neck, and kept advancing patiently until his body slammed against mine.

—There you go —he murmured—. Stay still.

I stayed still, just as he’d told me. The burning eased and made way for a strange, overflowing pleasure that made me feel completely possessed. Then he started moving, sliding in and out with a measured rhythm, whispering in my ear things I’d have been embarrassed to repeat anywhere else, but there they turned me on like nothing else.

—You’re so good —he said softly—. Look at how you give yourself to me.

I moaned and asked for more, shameless now, his woman that afternoon, his thing, whatever he wanted. A few minutes later I felt him tense. He gripped my hips hard, let out a rough groan, and came very deep inside me in long shudders, while I trembled through a second orgasm that left me without strength.

—Stay like that —I managed to say, feeling the last pulses—. Don’t pull out yet.

Wonderful feeling, being served by a man. I lay there for a few minutes, my legs shaking, while he slowly stroked my back. When he finally pulled away, it was like a sudden emptiness.

***

While I was getting dressed, he confessed something that made me smile: that I had been the first woman ever to ask him for what I had asked, and the only one who didn’t complain afterward. I gave him one last kiss, thanked him for the afternoon, and told him the truth, that I hadn’t felt that good in years.

—When I retire and stop driving buses, I won’t forget this afternoon —he said from the doorway.

—Neither will I, Don Aníbal —I answered, and I meant it.

I got home and, luckily, Diego still hadn’t returned. The one who received me was my daughter, who, as soon as she saw me, frowned.

—Did something happen? Your face is all red.

—Problems at the office, I was out way too late —I lied, knowing she didn’t believe a single word.

I went into the bathroom to shower and only then, when I took off the sheer stockings, did I notice the stains. And on the thong there were not only traces of that old driver, but something else too, you know what I mean. I stayed under the hot water for a while, smiling to myself, thinking that some reunions are worth any excuse.

I’m leaving you my email in case anyone wants to write to me: carli.deseda@correo-ardiente.com