The Married Teacher Who Asked Me to Make Love to Her

The first time I saw her in the café, I thought she was waiting for someone. She was sitting alone at a corner table, holding a cup in both hands and staring out at the street. She was short, generously built, pale-skinned. Pretty-faced, with soft features that belied the severity of her clothes: a dark green dress, buttoned all the way to the neck, falling to the knees.

When she stood up to go to the bathroom, I found myself watching without wanting to seem like I was watching. Her body was full in every sense. High, firm buttocks the dress couldn’t quite hide, and a bust that moved with each step in a way impossible to ignore. Her calves were thick, her thighs well-shaped. I forced myself to look away.

She showed up four days in a row at the same time. On the fifth day I asked her where the nearest subway entrance was.

***

Her name was Alicia. She told me while we were walking, and when I offered to walk her a few more minutes, she accepted without much hesitation. She told me she was a religion teacher at a charter school in the city center, that she was very devout, and that she had been married for twenty-two years to Roberto, a sixty-four-year-old man who worked at a notary’s office.

—You seem happy —I said.

—I am —she replied. And she didn’t sound entirely convinced.

She had just turned fifty-two, though she didn’t look it. She told me herself, as if she wanted to make something clear before I misread anything. She wore her brown hair carefully pinned up, not a strand out of place, and the small, discreet earrings of someone who has learned not to draw attention. But her body drew attention anyway. She couldn’t help that.

At the subway entrance we said goodbye. She went down the steps with a determined stride, swaying slightly. I watched her until she disappeared.

***

We saw each other for several weeks in a row. Always in the same café, always at the same time, always with the excuse of the obligatory coffee and polite conversation. The conversation opened up little by little, the way important things do: carefully, without anyone announcing it.

I learned that she went to mass on Tuesdays and Sundays, that she had a daughter in college, that she liked Italian cinema and hated traffic. She asked me what I did for work, whether I lived nearby, whether I had family. We talked about books neither of us had finished reading and trips neither of us had finished taking. It was an easy, natural conversation, the kind that doesn’t require effort but leaves you wanting more.

One Tuesday she told me Roberto hadn’t fucked her in a long time. She said it with a calm that seemed rehearsed, staring into the bottom of her cup as if it didn’t affect her much.

—How long? —I asked.

—Five months —she said. Then, after a pause—: Almost six.

I didn’t answer. I just looked at her. She lifted her eyes and held my gaze a second longer than necessary before looking away.

—I don’t know why I tell you these things —she murmured.

—Because you trust me.

—Or because I trust strangers too much —she said, and laughed to herself in a way that felt sadder than funny.

I held on to that. To that laugh and to everything hiding behind it.

***

Three days later I walked her to the subway entrance again. In the last stretch, before she went down the stairs, I told her she was a very attractive woman. That since I’d met her I couldn’t stop thinking about her.

She blushed immediately. She pressed her bag against her body as if she needed to hold on to something.

—That’s not right —she said.

—I know.

She fell silent. Then she went down the stairs and disappeared.

The next day she was at the café at her usual time. I sat down beside her without asking permission.

—What exactly do you imagine? —she asked, not looking at me, her voice very low.

I told her I imagined her naked, with her legs open and my face buried between her thighs. That I thought about putting my tongue in her cunt until she came. That I imagined her on her knees sucking me to the hilt, and also on all fours, ass high in the air, while I fucked her all the way in. I said it plainly, looking at her, because I had nothing left to lose.

She went rigid for a moment. Her fingers tightened around the cup and she took a deep breath, her cheeks burning all the way to her ears. Then, very slowly, a smile appeared that wasn’t one of discomfort.

—You make me think things I shouldn’t think too —she said.

We said goodbye at the café door. I kissed her on the cheek, almost brushing the corner of her lips. She didn’t pull away.

***

Two days later, as soon as she sat down, she asked me if I always talked so seriously.

—Only about you —I said.

She bit her lip. Then, as if she had just made a decision she’d been mulling over for a long time, she said in a low voice:

—Last night I couldn’t sleep. When Roberto turned off the light, I lay there staring at the ceiling thinking about what you said. —She paused, and lowered her voice even more—. I slid my hand under my nightgown and touched myself thinking about you. It’s the first time in years I’ve done that. Fuck me. Fuck me already, please.

She said it in a whisper, but she said it.

***

When we paid and got up to leave, I asked her point-blank if she wanted to come with me to a hotel right then.

—Now? —she said.

—Now.

She looked at me as if she expected me to back out. As if she were measuring whether I was serious.

—This is insane —she said.

—Yes.

—Roberto doesn’t deserve this.

—Probably not.

She drew in a deep breath. Then she picked up her bag from the back of the chair.

—Don’t stop the taxi on the same street as the café —she said.

***

In the taxi I hiked her dress up to her thighs. She didn’t stop me. Her skin was soft and warm, and her thighs were fleshy and firm at the same time. I rested my hand on the inside of her thigh and felt it tense. I kept moving upward, slowly, with my palm open, until my fingers brushed the fabric of her panties. She was wet. Her crotch had soaked through just from thinking about what we were going to do, and her breathing caught when I moved the fabric aside and ran a finger over her cunt, bottom to top, very slowly. A small moan escaped her, and she swallowed it by pressing her lips together. She didn’t say a word. She looked out the window with her lips tight and her hands still in her lap while I pushed my middle finger deep inside her and felt her clench around it. When I pulled it out, it glistened wet under the streetlights. She closed her eyes.

At the hotel I paid cash. As soon as I closed the room door, I kissed her. It was a long kiss, my hands at her waist, and she answered with an urgency that surprised me. Five and a half months without anyone touching her could be felt in the way she dug her fingers into my nape and pushed her hips against mine, searching for the hard bulge in my pants.

I unbuttoned her dress slowly. Alicia stayed still, letting me handle her, though her hands trembled a little when I lowered her bra straps and her big breasts fell heavy and white, with pink, very wide areolas and nipples already hard and standing.

—I’m nervous —she said.

—I know.

Her body was exactly what I’d imagined for weeks. The big, heavy tits, with the skin of her cleavage very soft and faint blue veins barely visible underneath. The soft belly, the broad hips, the firm, well-shaped buttocks. Time showed in small details—the texture of the skin on her stomach, the way her breasts fell without a bra—and far from cooling desire, it fed it. There was something about that surrender of an adult, conservative woman who had never done anything like this that excited me more than anything else.

I laid her on the bed. I started at her neck, then moved to her shoulders, her collarbone, her cleavage. When I took her breasts in my hands and slipped one nipple all the way into my mouth, she let out a soft sound, almost startled, as if her body reacted before she could decide whether it was allowed. I sucked slowly, tugging with my lips, biting just enough, while with my other hand I kneaded the other breast and pinched the nipple between my index finger and thumb. Alicia arched her back and held my head against her chest.

—Harder —she whispered—. Don’t stop.

I bit one nipple harder and she let out a hoarse moan from deep in her belly.

***

I spread her legs slowly. I kissed the inside of her thighs, the soft part above the knee, until I got to where the fabric of her panties ended. It was darkened with wetness. I slid them down her legs and her wide cunt appeared, fleshy, with swollen, parted lips, glossy, with a barely trimmed patch of dark brown hair. I opened her thighs with my hands and stayed there for a second looking at her, and she closed her eyes and turned her face to the side, as if ashamed for anyone to look at her like that after so many years.

—My God —she whispered when I ran my whole tongue over her, bottom to top, flat and slow, gathering the hot flavor leaking out of her.

I worked her with my mouth without hurry, reading her reactions. I pried her cunt lips open with two fingers and searched for her clit with the tip of my tongue, making tight circles around it, first soft, then faster. She gripped the sheet with both hands and moved her hips to the rhythm of my mouth. Every time I sucked her clit between my lips, a sharp gasp escaped her and her thighs trembled on either side of my face.

I slid two fingers inside her while I kept sucking her clit. She was so wet they went in without resistance, and I could feel how tightly she clamped around them, as if her cunt had been hungry for years. I started pumping my fingers and curving them to seek out that spot up top, and within seconds she began pushing her hips against my hand, driving herself onto me.

—Oh, oh, right there —she panted—. There, right there, don’t stop…

She came sooner than I expected the first time. I pressed her clit between my lips and drove my fingers in deep and fast, and within seconds her whole body tightened and she pressed my head against her cunt with both hands while she moaned for a long time, mouth open and back arched. When I let go, she was panting, her breasts rising and falling, flushed from neck to cleavage.

I climbed onto the bed and knelt beside her face. When I asked her to open her mouth, she said she had never done it, that Roberto found it disgusting. I told her she didn’t have to do anything special. Just open. She did it with her eyes closed. I rested the head of my cock on her lips and she parted them and started to suck slowly, her tongue circling the tip, clumsy at first, her teeth brushing me by accident. I placed a hand at the back of her neck without forcing, and she herself started taking me deeper, taking more of me in, closing her lips tighter. Little by little she relaxed, following the rhythm, and what had started off awkward gained confidence with every passing minute. After a while she was sucking me halfway down, saliva slipping from the corner of her mouth, and she looked up at me with shining eyes.

I positioned myself between her breasts and she herself squeezed them around my cock, holding them with her hands as if she knew exactly what to do. I started moving between her tits, thrusting back and forth, and every time the tip appeared close to her face she stuck out her tongue and brushed it over me, without my asking, curious, like an eager student discovering something new.

***

When I got on top of her and set my cock at her entrance, I felt the resistance. Her body showed the months without anyone touching it. She was tight, closed, constricted.

—Slowly —she said.

I went in slowly, pushing little by little, gaining ground with every movement. Alicia closed her eyes and arched her neck back and let out a long moan that broke in the middle. When I was fully inside, to the root, she stayed still for a moment, taking in the feeling of having a cock inside her after half a year.

—Are you okay? —I asked.

She nodded without speaking. Then, with her hands on my hips, she pushed me lightly toward her.

We started moving. At first slowly, feeling out the depth. Then with more rhythm, deeper, with my hips slamming against hers and her tits shaking with every thrust. I held them in my hands, squeezing them, pinching her nipples between my fingers, and she panted with her mouth open every time I drove into her all the way. I turned her onto her side, lifted one leg and rested it on my shoulder, and kept going from that angle, and from there I went in deeper and she felt it, because she opened her eyes wide and looked at me as if she couldn’t believe it.

—Oh, like that you go in deeper, deeper… —she murmured, clutching the pillow.

I could see the expression on her face, the mouth half open, the eyes half-lidded, the concentration of someone discovering that her body still remembers how to work. She was moaning with a hand over her mouth, as if trying to keep quiet. I moved it away.

—No need —I said—. Scream as much as you want.

She let out the sound she’d been holding back. Then another. And then she stopped trying to hide it and started moaning openly, broken words mixed with gasps, “yes,” “oh,” “more,” “like that,” “don’t stop,” while I kept pounding her from the side with her leg on my shoulder.

***

I put her on all fours. She settled herself, knees apart and ass high, back arched, face pressed into the pillow. I ran my hand over her buttocks and spread them apart. Her cunt was red and open from being fucked, dripping down the insides of her thighs, and above it the pink pucker of her ass. I ran my wet thumb over it and she shivered all over.

—Not there… —she whispered, but she didn’t close her legs.

I shoved back into her, all the way, in one thrust. Alicia screamed into the pillow. From behind, I knelt close and started fucking her hard, holding her hips with both hands and pulling her toward me with every thrust. With one hand I found her clit underneath and started rubbing it with two fingers while I fucked her. Alicia lowered her head, spread her knees wider, and started pushing back on her own, searching for the exact angle, rubbing against my hand and my cock at the same time.

—Like that —she said through clenched teeth—. Like that, don’t stop, give it to me, give me more, harder, more…

I gave it to her harder. The blows of my hips against her ass echoed all over the room, dry, wet, and she panted with each thrust, mouth open against the pillow. I slapped one butt cheek and she let out a muffled cry that wasn’t protest. I slapped her again. Her skin went red where I’d hit her and she shoved back harder, asking for more.

It took a couple of minutes. When it came, it came with her whole body, clenching hard around my cock, with a long, continuous sound that had nothing to do with the discreet lady in the café. Her cunt throbbed, squeezing me, and I felt the hot wetness slipping down her thighs.

I pulled out before I came and turned her onto her back again. I climbed on top and laid my wet cock between her breasts. She squeezed them together herself, bringing them together with her hands, and I started moving fast between them, feeling the tip brush her chin with every thrust. When I was close, I leaned toward her mouth and she opened her lips and took me in without looking away from my eyes. I came in her mouth, and I left my semen inside and outside it too, running down the corner of her lips to her chin and neck, and she kept sucking the tip until there was nothing left for her to take.

She wiped the corner of her lip with her thumb and brought it to her mouth. Then she looked at me.

—You’re the first person outside my marriage —she said.

—I know.

—I don’t know if that makes me feel worse or better.

—How do you feel?

She thought for a moment, looking at the ceiling, her tits still smeared and her cunt open between her parted legs.

—Good —she said—. I feel very good.

***

We dressed in silence, that comfortable silence that comes after something shifts between two people. At the hotel door she kissed me. A brief kiss, but intentional.

—Next week I’ll be at the café on Tuesday —she said.

It wasn’t a question.

—Me too —I said.

And that’s how it was. Alicia has been my lover ever since: punctual as always, discreet as always. Every Tuesday the same café. Every two or three weeks the same hotel, or a different one when we feel like changing it up. Roberto is still at his notary’s office. Faith is still faith.

And she still takes off her wedding ring before stepping into the room, with that mix of guilt and desire that never quite gets resolved, and which seems to me the most honest thing I’ve seen in a long time.