She Asked Me for a Light on the Beach and Ended Up in My Room

I saw her for the first time one late September afternoon, when the sun was starting to tilt toward the line of the sea and the beach was slowly emptying out. I was lying on my towel, with a book I’d spent half an hour not making any progress in, lost in the stretch of golden sand surrendering to the water. I wasn’t expecting anything from those days. Nothing except silence.

A few meters away, a woman dropped her bag on the sand and spread out a towel with a tired gesture. Forty-something, I guessed. Blonde, with a damp lock stuck to her temple. What first caught my attention wasn’t her hair or her brief smile at the horizon, but those huge tits that barely fit inside the black bikini bra, with her nipples pressing against the wet fabric. I looked just enough. Another pretty woman. And I would have gone on ignoring her if, a few minutes later, she hadn’t gotten up and come over.

—Sorry —she said—. Do you have a light?

She had a cigarette between her fingers and that expression halfway between apology and challenge. I didn’t smoke, but I carried a lighter around out of habit, one of those things that ends up in the bottom of any bag without you really knowing why. I bent down to look for it. I found it between the towel and the bottle of sunscreen.

—Here you go.

I straightened up to light the cigarette, but the afternoon wind had other plans. The flame went out on the first try. And the second. And the third. We both started laughing, like two clumsy kids fighting against something absurd. She moved closer, held the towel up as a windbreak, and finally got the ember going with a long drag.

—Mission accomplished —she said, slowly blowing out the smoke.

—I didn’t know lighting a cigarette had become a team sport.

She laughed hard and stayed. Just like that, without asking, as if it were the natural thing. She sat on the edge of her towel, now dressed in a light blue camisole that hid nothing of what I’d already seen in the water. We talked about the heat, about the book I wasn’t reading, about how good the sea felt at that hour. She was easy. The kind of person who doesn’t force conversation.

—What’s your name? —I asked.

—Renata. And you?

—Damián.

We exchanged the obligatory two kisses, the kind where your hands never quite know where to go. She smelled like coconut and salt.

—Are you alone? —she asked.

—Yeah. I came to switch off for a few days. I’ve got a job that eats my head up, and every now and then I need a place where nobody knows me. And you?

—Same. But mine’s different. —She paused and looked at the sea—. I’m married. I have two kids. I sneak away once a year, for two or three days, and come back with a fresh head. This —she pointed at the beach— is my therapy.

She said it without guilt, without justification, like someone announcing any old routine. And me, without really knowing why, that frankness turned me on more than the camisole.

We talked until the light turned that orange shade that lasts five minutes before dying completely. We packed up our things. She told me she had a family apartment in the village, one they barely used except for her little escapes. I told her I was staying in room 314 at the hotel on the promenade. Little details, exchanged like people who don’t want to commit to anything.

Before we parted, I asked if she felt like having a drink later. Maybe dinner. Renata smiled, took out her phone, and dictated her number to me with a calm that made it clear she’d already decided the rest.

***

Back in my room, I lay down on the bed still dressed, salt in my hair and the conversation spinning in my head. She’s married. Two kids. This shouldn’t be happening. And yet all I did was calculate how many hours were left until I saw her again, and I was already getting hard just imagining those tits out of the bikini.

I showered slowly. Shaved. Put on a white shirt and dark trousers, and looked at myself in the mirror more times than I’d admit. I didn’t want to look like an eager kid. Nor like a man arriving defeated in advance by his own age. I wanted to look like someone she would choose again.

I got to the harbor café first, ordered a gin and tonic, and waited for her. When she appeared, I nearly dropped the glass. Red dress, neckline just on the edge of decent, long legs ending in tiny sandals. She was wearing fine-framed glasses I didn’t remember seeing on the beach and that gave her the air of a teacher who knows exactly what she’s doing.

—Am I late? —she asked.

—You’re perfect.

I kissed her cheek and, this time, left my lips there a moment longer than necessary. She didn’t pull away.

I ordered a glass of wine for her and another gin and tonic for myself. We toasted to the evening wind and to lighters that go out. I took her to dinner at a restaurant with tables on a terrace over the water and candles the air kept blowing out before dessert. We ordered fish and a bottle we finished too quickly.

We talked about her work, mine, travel, books, music. But beneath every sentence ran something else. Her hand rested on my forearm a second longer than necessary. My knee brushed hers under the table. Every time she leaned forward, the neckline of her dress promised something the restaurant wasn’t going to let me confirm.

—Do you want to dance? —I asked when we finished.

—I’ve been waiting all night for you to ask me that.

***

The place we found wasn’t full, but it wasn’t empty either. Just enough of a crowd to get lost in. Renata moved with that ease of someone who knows she’s being watched and likes it. I tried to keep up and hold her waist at the same time. Every turn brought her a little closer to me. Her hand traveled over my nape, my shoulder, my chest, and every now and then dropped down in front to brush my fly, where my cock was already showing hard against my trousers. I stroked her sides, slid my palm down to her hip, and every so often, without bothering to hide it, squeezed her tits over the dress. She didn’t stop me. On the contrary, she pressed closer, arching her back to push her hard nipples into my palm.

We went to the bar to get another drink. She was walking in front. I grabbed her by the waist so I wouldn’t lose her in the crowd, and she turned her head looking for me. Our mouths met halfway. The first kiss was soft, almost a question. The second asked nothing anymore: she shoved her tongue all the way in and bit my lower lip when she pulled away.

We moved to a secluded sofa, beside a wall lit red. The music covered just enough. We started kissing like two teenagers who’d been planning it for weeks. My hands went back to her tits, this time under the neckline, looking for skin directly, and I felt her goosebumps rise under my fingers. I pinched one nipple between my index finger and thumb and she moaned into my mouth. Her hand slipped between my legs and squeezed my cock over my trousers, measuring it, weighing it.

—You’re hard —she murmured into my ear—. Very hard.

—It’s your fucking fault.

She laughed softly and squeezed me again, harder.

Across from our sofa, a group of guys in their twenties were staring blatantly at us. One of them raised his voice to make sure it carried.

—Get a hotel, you two! You’re too old for that shit!

Laughter in the background. Renata pulled back an inch, looked at me, and burst out laughing cleanly.

—They’re right —she said.

—Absolutely right.

We went out into the street with that stupid high you get from alcohol mixed with desire. We stopped at a dark corner to kiss again. I slid my hand up the inside of her thigh and confirmed what I’d already suspected: a tiny thong, barely an idea of a thong, and fabric soaked through. I slipped a finger under the elastic and brushed her shaved cunt, slick, and she gave a little jump against my hand.

—Your place or mine? —I said, knowing the answer.

—I don’t have a place tonight. And if you don’t fuck me right now, I’m going to come against your hand in the middle of the street.

—Then that’s that.

***

The hotel concierge barely looked up when I asked for the key. Renata leaned against me in the elevator, and I took advantage of the ride to slide my hand under her dress again. This time I didn’t stop at the fabric. I moved the thong aside with two fingers and pushed one whole finger into her cunt, then another, feeling how she closed around them, hot and wet. She bit her lip and looked at me without blinking while she rocked her hips against my fingers.

—If you keep touching me like that, I’m not making it to the hallway.

—You’ll make it.

Barely. I almost couldn’t get the key card into the lock, partly because of the drinks, partly because her hand had settled over my fly, pulled down my zipper, and was holding my cock through my briefs, squeezing it with a slow rhythm that nearly made me come right there. When I finally opened the door, we almost fell inside together.

I shut the door with my back while kissing her. The key card fell to the floor. Her tongue sought mine with an urgency I didn’t bother to stop. The hands did the rest. My shirt dropped onto a chair, her red dress stayed crumpled at the foot of the bed. We collapsed onto the mattress with laughter still caught in our mouths.

I got on top of her and fumbled with her bra. Her tits were as big as I’d imagined on the beach, so full and heavy my hands couldn’t quite encompass them. The nipples, dark and wide, stood firm, almost swollen. I bent down to take them into my mouth, first one, then the other, sucking them whole, alternating tongue and teeth, biting them carefully and then harder, gauging her reaction. Renata arched her back and let out the air in short bursts, and with one hand she guided my head so I wouldn’t stop sucking her.

—Like that… hard… bite them —she panted—. I love it when you bite them.

On the nightstand there was a bottle of body lotion the hotel had left me. I opened it, poured a stream between her tits and heard her gasp in surprise at the cold. Then my hands slid over her skin, squeezing them, pushing them together, sliding the nipples between my fingers with a ease that made her let out a low moan, just once, almost a warning. I pulled my trousers all the way down and settled astride her chest. I pressed her tits around my cock and started fucking them slowly, while she lowered her head to suck the tip every time it peeked out between her nipples. The image —that open mouth, the tongue coming out to meet me, her flushed cheeks— almost made me finish too soon.

—Stop —I told her, pulling back—. Stop or this ends right now.

She laughed, wiped herself with the back of her hand, and yanked me down onto the mattress. She grabbed my cock with one hand, weighing it, spat once from top to bottom to make it shine, and the next second she had it in her mouth to the hilt. She was good. She was very good. I felt it hit the back of her throat, brief gagging sounds that didn’t stop her. With her other hand she caressed my balls, tugging them gently, sucking me with her head going up and down in a rhythm that seemed rehearsed. Every time I thought she might ease up, she tightened her lips, rolled her tongue around the head, looked up at me from below with those eyes that knew perfectly well what they were doing.

—Fuck, Renata —I panted—. Fuck, not like that…

I had to pull her head back with both hands when I felt control starting to slip away.

—Wait. Wait.

—That fast? —she said, raising an eyebrow and wiping the string of spit with her thumb.

—I don’t want it to end that fast. I want to eat you first.

I pulled down her thong and slid it off her legs without hurry. She was completely shaved, the labia minora small and pink, everything already shining in the lamplight. I spread her legs wide, putting them over my shoulders, and stayed there for a second looking at her like that, open, wet, waiting. She shifted impatiently.

—Don’t look at me. Eat me.

I went down her neck, her sternum, her belly, leaving a trail of kisses that she traced by digging her nails into my shoulders. When I got between her legs and ran my tongue over her for the first time, flat and slow from her cunt to her clit, her whole body jerked as if I’d touched an electric wire.

—Fuck —she muttered.

I did it again, slower. I parted her lips with two fingers and sucked her clit directly, circling my tongue around it, sucking gently and then harder. She started rocking her hips against my mouth, looking for more pressure. I slid two fingers inside and curled them upward, finding that spot that made her scream and grab the sheet with both hands. I alternated: tongue on the clit, fingers inside, tongue again, fingers moving faster. When her hand clamped onto my hair and started guiding me without a word, I knew it wouldn’t be long.

—Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop…

I didn’t stop. I felt her whole body tense, her thighs clamp against my ears, hold her breath for two eternal seconds and then let it go with a long moan, shameless, not caring about the hotel’s thin walls. Her cunt clenched around my fingers in spasms, and I felt a warm stream soak my chin.

—Sorry —she panted, laughing without air—. Sorry, fuck…

—Don’t apologize. Do it again.

I was still hard, with my cock aching from being held back so long. I climbed up her body, parted her legs with my knee, and rested the tip against her open cunt. She lowered her hand, grabbed me, and guided me herself, rubbing the head against her clit before letting me in. I pushed in slowly, letting her feel every inch. She was so wet I didn’t meet a drop of resistance, but she gripped me from the inside as if she didn’t want me to get out.

—You’re so thick —she panted into my ear—. So thick, fuck…

I wanted to give her time to catch her breath before I picked up the pace. When I started moving, she hooked her legs behind my back and pushed against me, digging her heels into my ass so I’d go all the way in on each thrust.

—Harder —she begged—. Harder, fuck me harder.

I obeyed. The bed began protesting against the wall. I bit her neck, her collarbone, her tits, sucking her nipples while I fucked her at a pace that started making the mattress creak. She scratched my back, cried out under her breath, biting the back of her hand so she wouldn’t wake the whole hallway. I lifted her by the hips and put her on all fours, and paused for a second to look at her round ass before slamming into her again. From that angle it went in differently, deeper, and she noticed because she let out a rougher moan.

—Like that, like that, like that… don’t stop…

I grabbed her hair, not hard, just enough to pull it back and make her arch. With my other hand I slapped her ass once, just once, and her cheek vibrated for a second. She laughed breathlessly and pushed back, taking each thrust herself, fucking me more than I was fucking her. I ran my thumb over her asshole and pressed gently, and felt her tremble all over.

—Not there… —she panted—. Not there, not yet… another day…

I went back to her hips, gripping her with both hands, and sped up. When I felt we couldn’t keep it up much longer, I stopped, still inside her, breathing hard.

—I want you to finish in my mouth —she said, turning her head over her shoulder with that smile—. I want to swallow it all.

I let myself fall back onto the bed. Renata turned, sat astride my thighs, leaned down, and took me back into her mouth with the same confidence as before. She’d pull me out glistening and take me back in whole, sealing her lips tight around the base, one hand on my balls and the other stroking the part that wouldn’t fit. I didn’t last long. What I’d been holding back all night let go in a matter of seconds, in three, four thick spurts that filled her mouth. She didn’t pull away an inch. She swallowed every drop, never taking her eyes off me, and when she finished she cleaned the tip with her tongue, slowly, until the last drop.

—Good boy —she murmured, climbing up my body to kiss me on the mouth, and passed me the taste of my own cum on her tongue.

***

After that we lay there on our backs, staring at the ceiling fan, not saying a word for a good while. I could still hear her breathing, ragged, beside me. I slipped my arm under her neck and she settled against my shoulder as if we’d been doing it for years, with one tit crushed against my side and one leg crossed over mine.

—I should go —she said after a while.

—Now?

—No. —She smiled against my neck, and slid her hand down my stomach until she grabbed me again, still soft but waking under her fingers—. In the morning.

We slept in fits and starts, waking up to find each other again. What happened at dawn, before she dressed, gathered her things, and left without leaving a note, is another story I’ll tell someday too.