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 at each other’s throats, especially among the women in the welfare department. My job was to straighten the group out and get everything back on track without anyone ending up quitting. What didn’t make it into the report I signed was everything else.

There were eighteen of us professionals rotating through fifteen-day shifts inside a mining camp, four hours from the city on a dirt road. In that confinement, two psychologists set the tone for the whole department: Carla and Lorena. One married, the other divorced, and between them an old grudge that poisoned every meeting.

I was assigned to Carla’s shift, the leader of the behavioral program. Thirty-seven years old, dark almond-shaped eyes, slim to a fault, with toned legs and straight hair dyed in a gradient blonde that brushed her shoulders. She always dressed impeccably, pressed, with little makeup, and any garment seemed loose on that discreet body. She knew how to do her job: sharp, subtle, good-humored.

Lorena was her exact opposite. In her forties, fair-skinned, full-breasted, with a defined waist and curly hair that fell to the middle of her back. She always spoke double entendres, preaching a sexual awakening that, according to her, had only come after her divorce. Over time I had something with both of them. But this is Carla’s story.

Long shifts force conversation. Carla ended up beside me in almost everything: the dining hall, the minivan, the smokers’ courtyard. In confidence, she told me her story. Her husband had put her on the back burner; they’d gone months without touching each other, and she said it without drama, like someone describing the weather. That line, said so simply, put her on my radar.

One night I went down to the dining hall to fill my thermos. When I came out to the smoking patio, I found her yelling into her phone. My presence made her cut off abruptly. A coworker had seen her husband “in good company,” and she had just called him demanding explanations. I offered her a cigarette, which she smoked in three draws, her eyes shining with anger.

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

Three months passed of shared cigarettes and nothing more. I kept flirting with Lorena in parallel, but with Carla there was something different, a current waiting for its moment. That moment came with my birthday.

The social worker took care of spreading the date around, and Carla and Lorena organized the celebration: cake, sweets, and half the office around it. Luckily both were on shift. The guys gave me a collection of Ozzy Osbourne figurines, a detail I still keep. It was Carla who handed it to me, and as she did, she leaned into my ear.

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

It was the weekend, so they organized a 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 wasn’t just a barbecue anymore. Now we could drink without guilt.

After dinner we ended up in a nightclub. I’m not much of a dancer; I drink for the head, not for the feet. I was keeping myself in check until I noticed Carla was missing. I found her on the smokers’ terrace, arguing on the phone again. I didn’t intervene. I just looked her up and down and discovered that, under that fitted outfit that night really did cling to her, was a figure I’d been underestimating for months.

When she hung up, I went over and hugged her. She pressed her head to my chest as was now customary. I took her by the hand to turn her around and look at her properly, tossed her a couple of compliments, and she blushed like a girl.

Inside, she got more touchy than usual. She dragged me onto the dance floor and I didn’t refuse. The beers kept coming and going, we toasted, and at one point a coworker invited her to dance; she looked for me with her eyes, as if asking permission, and I nodded. When she came back, they put on a ballad. I took her by the waist and pulled her against me.

—Are you feeling 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 intertwined her fingers with mine, stood up, and told me she’d be right back.

Lorena came over to talk, then other coworkers. Carla came back and sat next to me. A little while later she signaled to me; I looked at her and saw a small red ribbon hanging from her blouse. I understood instantly. She fixed her eyes on me, no words needed.

Lorena, who didn’t miss a thing, made me check my phone. She had sent me two messages.

—Take advantage of the fact that everyone’s dancing and get out of there.

—Don’t be dumb, Carla just gave herself to you.

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

The kisses grew more intense. She crossed her arms behind my neck and pressed her body to mine as if she wanted to melt into me. People came in and we stopped. We left the place quickly, walked a few meters, and kissed again, this time with my hands moving down her back until they settled on her ass.

—Should we buy something to drink? —I suggested.

—Yes, and while we’re at it, let’s see where to sleep.

—Sleep? Seriously, you think we’re going to sleep?

—A hotel, so I can give you my gift.

—You’re on the fifth floor and there’s nobody around right now. Let’s go to your room.

—You’re right. We’ll take the risk.

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

***

I put the drinks in the mini-fridge while she went into the bathroom. I sat on the sofa. She came out with her blouse unbuttoned, her belt undone, and her pants half down. Before sitting, she took off her shoes. I took her by the waist and sat her on my lap, our faces almost touching. I stroked her face and she closed her eyes. No words were needed: our tongues found each other immediately.

She straddled me and took off my shirt. I did the same with her blouse, revealing a black bra that hid a medium-sized chest, perfect to my taste. I unclasped it and freed her breasts. Her nipples were small and dark. I didn’t hesitate: I went down on one and sucked it slowly. Carla pressed closer, making it clear she liked it, and I stayed there a good while, biting, licking, until both were hard and peaked.

My hands never stopped kneading her breasts. Her almond-shaped eyes had a different kind of shine. She stood up to let her pants fall and I did the same. Luckily I had condoms on hand. She sat back down on me, one of her hands slipping under my underwear and beginning to stroke me softly. I showed her the condom before she could go any further.

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

—Mmm, this is what I needed —she murmured—. I really needed this.

I felt the heat of her insides cover me completely. She started with a slow movement of the hips. I adjusted her legs so we fit better, and once the position was set, she let go, gaining rhythm and ease.

—I needed this —she kept repeating.

—You like it like this?

—Yes, a lot.

The position left her breasts at mouth level, and I took advantage of them while my hands kept the rhythm from her hips and, at the same time, kneaded her ass. A couple of well-timed slaps woke something up in her. Carla suddenly stood, turned, and sat with her back to me, reaching for me with her hand to bury herself on me again. She let out a long moan and started moving however she pleased.

I held her by the waist, following her rhythm. Seeing her back and her small, round ass pushed me to spank it again and again, leaving the mark of my fingers while she moaned. Then she leaned back and tried to place 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 started going up and down. Sometimes she slipped out and put herself back in, impatient. The mirror in front of us returned part of our reflection, and that made it even better. A few more thrusts and I felt her trembling: she reached the first orgasm of the night, shaking all over, her breathing broken. She let her body fall onto mine, sweaty, and turned her head looking for my mouth.

—So good —she whispered—. Let me rest a little.

I didn’t give her much time. I picked her up and laid her on the sofa, legs spread. I buried myself between them, kissing her thighs first, lingering on purpose before getting where she was already waiting for me. Her initial refusals didn’t last long: soon she had her hands in my hair and her legs raised, asking for more.

—Keep going —she panted—. Don’t stop.

I found the exact spot and stayed there, patient, alternating tongue and lips while she came undone beneath me. Her hips moved on their own. When I felt her at the edge, she yanked my hair and pulled me to her face. She kissed me, found my cock with her hand, and guided it to the entrance. A slight push and I went in all the way.

—Mmm, I needed this.

While I fucked her, I went back to her breasts. She crossed her legs over mine and we matched the movement, soft at first, then harder. She was so wet there was barely any friction between us. I braced myself on my arms to look at her properly, only dipping down to kiss her. Then I lifted her feet onto my chest and, in that tight position, it was hard to hold myself back. I felt the current running down my back and told her so.

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

—Move —she demanded—. Don’t stay still.

—Like this, it’s fine.

Her hips jerked faster and faster. I felt the release rising, and almost at the same time she trembled again, digging her fingers into my chest, demanding more from me in a broken voice. I didn’t disappoint her: I lifted my pelvis until a new long moan told me she’d gotten there again. Only then did she collapse on top of 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 got out of the bathroom, I gave her ass a slap, and she ran to the bed, throwing herself face down. I positioned myself between her legs and entered her again, this time from behind, spanking her with every thrust. The mirror in front reflected us directly now, and seeing her expression with each удар pushed me to the limit.

We tried everything we could think of. Sideways, with one leg up and then the other, until she herself asked me to go back to the position she liked best. Along the way I probed new territory and confirmed, without her objecting in the slightest, that it wasn’t the first time she’d ventured there. She ended up riding me in a long, furious gallop, determined to hurry my finish, until I emptied myself inside her and felt her collapse onto my chest, out of breath, searching for my mouth once more.

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

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