The Camp Psychologist Gave Me Her Gift at Midnight

They sent me to put out another fire. A delayed project, unmet targets, and a team that was constantly at each other’s throats, especially the women in the wellness department. My job was to reorganize the group and get it back on track without anyone ending up resigning. What didn’t make it into the report I signed was everything else.

There were eighteen professionals rotating through fifteen-day shifts at a mining camp, four hours from the city along a dirt road. In that confinement, two psychologists set the tone for the entire department: Carla and Lorena. One married, the other divorced, and between them there was an old resentment that contaminated every meeting.

I was assigned to Carla’s shift, as leader of the behavioral program. Thirty-seven years old, dark, almond-shaped eyes, slim without being bony, shapely legs, and straight hair dyed a graduated blonde that brushed her shoulders. She was always impeccably dressed and pressed, wore little makeup, and every garment seemed to hang loosely over that discreet body. She knew her job: clever, subtle, good-humored.

Lorena was her exact opposite. In her forties, fair-skinned, with a generous chest, defined waist, and curly hair that fell halfway down her back. She always spoke in double entendres, proclaiming a sexual awakening that, according to her, had only arrived after her divorce. In time, I had something with both of them. But this is Carla’s story.

Long shifts force people to talk. Carla ended up by my side almost everywhere: the cafeteria, the minivan, the smokers’ patio. In confidence, she told me about herself. Her husband had pushed her aside; they hadn’t touched each other in months, and she said it without drama, like someone describing the weather. That simple sentence put her on my radar.

One night I went down to the cafeteria to fill my thermos. When I went out to the patio to smoke, I found her shouting into her cell phone. My presence made her abruptly cut the call. A colleague had seen her husband “in good company,” and she had just demanded an explanation. I offered her a cigarette, which she smoked in three drags, her eyes shining with anger.

When she made as if to leave, I took her hand and pulled her toward me. She didn’t resist. She rested her head against my chest and stayed there, breathing slowly, until I felt her calm down. Then I told her about my own divorce, my failed relationship with Marisol, and we ended the conversation with a long embrace. From that day on, Carla texted me on WhatsApp every night, asking me to come down and smoke with her.

Three months passed with us sharing cigarettes and nothing more. I was still flirting with Lorena on the side, but with Carla there was something different, a current waiting for its moment. That moment came on my birthday.

The social worker made sure to spread the word about the date, and Carla and Lorena organized the celebration: cake, sweets, and half the office gathered around. Luckily, both shifts were there. The guys gave me a collection of Ozzy Osbourne figurines, a gift I still have. Carla was the one who handed it to me, and as she did, she leaned toward my ear.

“I’ll give you my gift later,” she said, with a smile that was far too polite.

It was the weekend, so they arranged dinner out. While I was changing, the project manager called me: because of a community strike, we wouldn’t be going up to the mine the next day. That changed everything. It was no longer just a barbecue. Now we could drink without feeling guilty.

After dinner, we ended up at a nightclub. I’m not a dancer; I drink for my head, not my feet. I kept myself under control until I noticed Carla was missing. I found her on the smokers’ terrace, fighting on the phone again. I didn’t intervene. I only looked her up and down and discovered that beneath the tight clothing that night, which actually showed off her figure, was a body I had underestimated for months.

When she hung up, I approached and hugged her. She pressed her head against my chest, as had become customary. I took her hand, twirled her around so I could look at her properly, paid her a couple of compliments, and she blushed like a girl.

Inside, she pressed herself against me more than usual. She asked me to dance, and I didn’t refuse. The beers came and went, we toasted, and at one point a colleague asked her to dance; she looked over at me as if asking permission, and I nodded. When she returned, they put on a ballad. I took her by the waist and pulled her against me.

“Are you more relaxed now?” I asked.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“By the way, you still haven’t given me my gift.”

“Mmm, that’s true.”

“You didn’t forget.”

“Of course not. It comes with a red ribbon.”

I slid my hands over her hips. Carla held my gaze as if everyone else had disappeared. The song ended and we went back to the group, but before that she laced her fingers through mine, stood up, and told me she’d be right back.

Lorena came over to chat, then other colleagues. Carla returned and sat beside me. After a while she gave me a signal. I looked at her and saw a small red ribbon hanging from her blouse. I understood instantly. She fixed her eyes on me, without needing words.

Lorena, who missed nothing, made me check my phone. I had two messages from her.

“Take advantage of everyone dancing and leave.”

“Don’t be an idiot, Carla just offered herself to you.”

I took Carla by the hand and led her toward the bar. I bought a couple of beers, we toasted, and she asked me to go outside for some air. On the terrace I pressed her against the wall, caressed her face, and brought my lips close to hers. She closed her eyes and offered them to me. It was a gentle kiss that quickly became something else.

The kisses grew more intense. She wrapped her arms around my neck and pressed her body against mine as if she wanted to melt into me. People came in, and we stopped. We hurried out of the place, walked a few yards, and kissed again, this time with our hands sliding down her back until they stopped on her ass.

“Should we buy something to drink?” I suggested.

“Yes, and we can figure out where to sleep while we’re at it.”

“Sleep? Are you seriously thinking about sleeping?”

“A hotel, so I can give you my gift.”

“You’re on the fifth floor, and there’s no one there now. Let’s go to your room.”

“You’re right. We’ll take the risk.”

We stopped at a liquor store, where I bought beer, soda, and something to snack on, then took a taxi back to the lodging.

***

I put the drinks in the minibar while she went into the bathroom. I sat on the sofa. She came out with her blouse unbuttoned, her belt open, and her pants halfway down. Before sitting, she took off her shoes. I grabbed her by the waist and sat her on my lap, our faces almost touching. I caressed her face and she closed her eyes. There was no need to say anything: our tongues sought each other immediately.

She straddled me and took off my shirt. I did the same with her blouse, revealing a black bra hiding medium-sized breasts, perfect to my taste. I undid the clasp and freed them. Her nipple was small and dark. I didn’t hesitate: I went for one and began sucking it slowly. Carla moved closer, making it clear that she liked it, and I stayed there for quite a while, biting and licking until they were hard and erect.

My hands never stopped kneading her breasts. Her almond-shaped eyes had a different gleam. She stood up to let her pants fall, and I did the same. Luckily, I had condoms close at hand. She sat back down on me, one of her hands slipping beneath my underwear and beginning to caress me gently. I showed her the condom before she went any further.

She tore open the wrapper herself and put it on. She brought two fingers to her mouth, moistened them, lowered them between her legs, and settled herself over me, sinking down slowly on her own.

“Mmm, I needed this,” she murmured. “I really needed this.”

I felt the heat of her inner walls completely surround me. She began with a slow movement of her hips. I adjusted her legs so we would fit together better, and once we had found the position, she let herself go, gaining rhythm and confidence.

“I needed this,” she repeated.

“Do you like it this way?”

“Yes, very much.”

The position left her breasts at mouth level, and I took advantage of them while my hands set the rhythm from her hips and, along the way, kneaded her ass. A couple of well-timed slaps awakened something in her. Carla suddenly got up, turned around, and sat down with her back to me, searching for me with her hand so she could impale herself again. She let out a long moan and began moving however she pleased.

I took her by the waist, following her rhythm. The sight of her back and small, round ass drove me to slap it again and again, leaving the marks of my fingers as she moaned. Then she leaned her body back and tried to put her legs over mine. I understood what she wanted and helped her.

“Don’t let it slip out,” she asked.

“Relax.”

Settled like that, she began to rise and fall. Sometimes it slipped out and she impatiently repositioned herself. The mirror opposite reflected part of us, and that made it even better. A few more thrusts and I felt her tremble: she reached her first orgasm of the night, shaking all over, her breathing broken. She let her body fall against mine, sweaty, and turned her head, searching for my mouth.

“That feels so good,” she whispered. “Let me rest a little.”

I didn’t give her much time. I picked her up and laid her down on the sofa, her legs spread. I sank between them, kissing her thighs first, deliberately taking my time before reaching the place where she was already waiting for me. Her initial protests didn’t last long: soon her hands were in my hair and her legs were raised, asking for more.

“Keep going,” she panted. “Don’t stop.”

I found the exact spot and stayed there, patient, alternating my tongue and lips while she melted beneath me. Her hips moved on their own. When I felt her nearing the edge, she pulled my hair and drew me toward her face. She kissed me, found my cock with her hand, and guided it to her entrance. One gentle push and I was all the way inside.

“Mmm, I needed this.”

As I fucked her, I returned to her breasts. She crossed her legs over mine and we matched our movements, gentle at first, harder afterward. She was so wet there was barely any friction between us. I propped myself up on my arms to look at her properly, lowering myself only to kiss her. Then I raised her feet to my chest and, in that closed position, I found it hard to hold back. I felt the current running down my back and told her.

Carla reacted quickly. She made me lie on my back, removed the condom, and went down on me. She wasn’t an expert, but the moment was everything. Then she sat up and settled herself over me, her hands braced on my chest, moving her hips and squeezing inside. She didn’t stop. All I could do was knead her breasts.

“Move,” she demanded. “Don’t just lie there.”

“This is fine.”

Her hips shook faster and faster. I felt the release rising, and almost at the same time she began trembling again, digging her fingers into my chest and demanding more in a broken voice. I didn’t disappoint her: I raised my pelvis until another long moan told me she had come again. Only then did she collapse onto me, spent.

We stayed like that for a while. Then she suggested we take a shower. Under the water I explored every inch of her, and she returned the favor with her mouth. We left the bathroom, I slapped her ass, and she ran to the bed, throwing herself facedown. I positioned myself between her legs and fucked her again, this time from behind, spanking her with every thrust. The mirror opposite reflected us directly now, and seeing her expression with every blow pushed me over the edge.

We tried everything we could think of. On our sides, with one leg raised and then the other, until she herself asked me to return to the position she liked best. Along the way I tested new territory and discovered, without her offering any objection, that it wasn’t her first time venturing there. She ended up riding me in a long, noisy session, determined to hurry my arrival, until I emptied inside her and felt her collapse onto my chest, breathless, searching for my mouth once more.

We fell asleep in each other’s arms. I woke around noon with her hand already searching for me again, ready for one last gift before returning to the camp as if nothing had happened.

That was the first of many. What began as a shared cigarette on a smokers’ patio became a seasonal romance that I enjoyed until the end of the project. But everything that came afterward, and what happened when Lorena found out, is another story.