I Cheated on My Boyfriend in the Country Pool

There are days that split a life in two. Mine was a Saturday in July, with forty degrees of heat flattening my grandfather’s farm and the pool water trembling as if it were thirsty too. I tell it now, years later, and my hands still shake as I write it. I never confessed it to anyone. This is the first time.

The land had always been my refuge. As a child I ran among the olive trees with my cousins, I bathed in that same pool when the cement at the edge burned the soles of my feet, and I napped under the grapevine while the crickets filled the silence. It was a place of peace, of innocence. I had no idea that one day it would become something else for me.

That summer I had gone down alone. My parents were still in the city, my boyfriend Rubén was buried in exams, and I had more than enough desire to do nothing at all. We had been together three years, since high school. I loved him, I really did, but the sex between us had become a lukewarm habit, three minutes on Fridays after dinner, a medium-sized cock going in and out without imagination, a couple of polite moans and then sleep. For months I hadn’t come with him. I did the work myself afterward, in the bathroom, with my hand.

Adama arrived that same morning. He was a friend of a distant uncle of mine who had rented him the house next door for the month, a man who had come to rest from some work I knew nothing about and to soak up the sun that was plentiful in his homeland and yet that he sought as if it were gold. I saw him over the low fence separating the two properties: tall, very tall, broad-shouldered, with dark skin like coffee without milk. He waved at me and gave me a smile I would not forget for a long time.

—Are you the granddaughter? —he asked, with an accent that rolled the r’s.

—That would be me —I answered, and I noticed my voice came out higher than usual.

He was forty-something; you could tell from the few gray hairs and the calm way he moved. I had just turned twenty. The age difference seemed enormous to me and, at the same time, irrelevant.

***

That afternoon the heat was unbearable. I dragged a hammock to the edge of the pool, put on a white bikini I’d bought to show off in front of Rubén and that he had barely even looked at, and stretched out to read without reading anything. Ten minutes later I heard the gate rattle.

—Do I bother you if I swim? My pool is a plastic bathtub —said Adama, nodding toward the neighboring house.

I laughed. I told him no, that water belonged to everyone when it was this hot. He had brought a small cooler with ice and bottles, and before getting in he offered me a mixed drink. I accepted without thinking. The first one went down fresh and sweet, tasting of rum and honey. The second went down even faster.

We talked nonsense for a while. About his homeland, the olive trees, how strange the silence of the countryside was for someone used to the noise of a huge city. Every time he laughed, his throat vibrated with a deep sound that I felt in my pussy, already wet beneath the bikini without him having done anything. He was wearing only tight black swim trunks, and the lower half of his body in the water hid very little: beneath the fabric a long, thick bulge stood out, shifting whenever he changed position. I couldn’t stop looking at it. Every time I looked away, I looked back right away, as if it were pulling me.

—I’ve never been with a man like you —I blurted out suddenly, and my face immediately burned—. I mean... well, you know what I mean.

He didn’t laugh. He looked at me steadily, with a calm that was almost insulting.

—And what do they say about men like me? —he asked.

—Things —I said, and I drank the rest of my glass in one gulp.

—Want to find out?

Say no. You have Rubén. Say no.

I said nothing. And that silence, that afternoon, was worth more than any yes.

***

I went down the three steps into the pool and approached him through the water, which reached my waist. My body was asking for things my head was still trying to hold back. When I was a hand’s breadth away, he put a huge hand on my hip and drew me toward him slowly, as if we had all night. His other hand gripped the back of my neck, firm, and forced me to look up at him.

The first kiss tasted of whiskey and heat. His tongue was slow, patient, sure, sliding all the way into my mouth and playing with mine until a stupid sound escaped my throat. I held on to his shoulders because my legs stopped responding. Under the water I felt his cock, already hard, pressed against my belly through his trunks. It was obscene. The hand holding my hip slid down, slipped its fingers inside my thong and touched my pussy slowly, opening me with two fingers and then slipping the core in. A moan escaped me against his mouth.

—Soaked —he said, smiling against my lips—. You’re already soaked and I haven’t even touched you properly.

—Shut up —I gasped.

I felt his other hand climb up my back, find the knot of my bikini, and with two fingers undo it. The top floated away between us. He pulled me back a little and sucked one breast whole, then the other, taking them into his mouth one after the other with my nipples hard between his teeth. I moved my hips against his hand without thinking, fucking his fingers with no shame at all.

—You’re beautiful —he said against my neck—. But you’re shaking.

—It’s not the water —I admitted.

He kissed my neck, my shoulder, slid down to my breasts and lingered there until the first real moan escaped me, the kind that comes out without permission. Then he picked me up as if I weighed nothing, sat me on the edge of the pool with my legs dangling, and remained standing in the water, right at my height. He pulled my thong down over my knees and let it drift away too. He spread my legs with both hands, without ceremony, and stayed a second staring at my open pussy, shining, while I died of embarrassment and desire in equal measure.

—What a pretty little cunt —he murmured—. And so wet.

And he lowered his head.

What he did with his mouth after that left me breathless. It had nothing to do with Rubén’s clumsy hurry, when he would lick me twice out of obligation and then climb on me to fuck. Adama pressed his whole tongue against my pussy and licked it from bottom to top, long, unhurried, finishing with a suck on the clit that made me jolt. He repeated the motion once, twice, three times, each time slower, until I was thrusting my hips against his mouth, hunting it. Then he pushed his tongue inside me, fucking me with it like it was a little cock, while his thumb circled my clit. When I began to tremble, he stopped dead. He pulled away, looked up at me from below with his mouth shining, and waited for me to beg.

—Don’t stop, please, don’t stop —I begged him, not recognizing my own voice.

—Ask properly.

—Eat my pussy, please, lick it, don’t stop.

He came back. He shoved two thick fingers inside me, curled them looking for that spot Rubén had never found in three years, and at the same time devoured my clit with licks in quick succession. I threw my head back and saw the sky white with all that sun. My whole body clenched, my thighs closed around his head without meaning to, and I came screaming, sitting on the hot cement, with his hands holding my hips so I wouldn’t escape. I felt my pussy tightening around his fingers in spasms that wouldn’t end. He didn’t stop until I told him to, half laughing, half crying, because I couldn’t take it anymore.

***

When I caught my breath, I looked at him. He had straightened up and, with a yank, pulled down his black trunks over his thighs. His cock sprang free, hard and heavy, pointing upward. I swallowed. It was big, bigger than anything I had ever seen, thick from the base, dark, with the swollen head gleaming. Long, very long. It scared me as much as it turned me on. Without thinking, I dropped back into the water, knelt on the lower step, and took it in both hands. Even then I still had cock to spare.

I put it in my mouth. Or tried to. I licked the tip first, round and salty, and ran my tongue underneath it, from the balls up. He let out a deep growl and placed a hand on the back of my neck, not pressing, guiding me. I opened my mouth as wide as I could and swallowed as much of him as would fit, while the hand below worked what my mouth couldn’t reach. I sucked his cock hungrily, spitting saliva over it so it would slide, listening to the filthy noises I myself was making and unable to believe it was me doing this. When I felt the veins in his cock swell against my tongue, he pulled away, tugging my hair back gently.

—Not yet —he said, voice rough—. I’m not coming yet. I want to fuck you first.

—Slowly —I begged, looking at his cock gleaming with my saliva.

—Slowly —he repeated, and for once it sounded like a promise he intended to keep.

We got out of the water dripping. He spread a huge towel on the grass, in the shade of the grapevine where I used to nap as a child, and laid me on my back. He positioned himself between my legs, opened them with his knees, and took his cock in his hand. He ran the tip up and down my pussy, coating himself with how wet I was, and rubbed it against my clit until I was pushing my hips up for it.

—Put it in already —I begged—. Please.

He pushed in slowly. Very slowly. I felt my cunt stretching around that cock, centimeter by centimeter, giving me time to get used to each one. It hurt for a moment, not from pain but from being so full, and then it stopped hurting. Then there was only pleasure, a dense pleasure rising from my belly to my throat, a new pleasure I hadn’t known existed. When he finally had himself all the way inside me, he held still for a second, breathing against my neck, and I felt his cock throbbing inside me.

—Look at me —he ordered.

I looked at him. And he thrust.

The first thrust tore a scream out of me. The second did too. He started slowly, almost cruel in how measured he was, pulling almost all the way out and driving back in to the hilt, until he hit something inside me Rubén had never touched. He picked up speed as my body asked for more. The towel wrinkled under my back, sweat glued our skin together, the crickets kept singing as if nothing were happening. I dug my nails into his back, bit his shoulder, repeated his name without realizing it. Each shove yanked a moan from me that echoed among the olive trees. The sound of his balls slapping my ass mixed with the obscene splash of my soaked cunt swallowing that huge cock again and again.

—Tell me how I’ve got it —he gasped in my ear.

—Huge —I managed—. Huge, fuck, don’t stop.

—Does your boyfriend fuck you like this?

—No... no, not like this...

—Say it.

—No one’s ever fucked me like this —I blurted out, hating myself and loving it at the same time.

This is what I was missing. This.

He turned me over. I ended up on all fours on the grass, gripping the towel, ass in the air, and he held my hips with those hands that seemed capable of splitting me in two. He spread my ass cheeks with his thumbs, spat on his cock, and went back in with a dry thrust that ripped an animal moan from me. From that angle everything was deeper, rougher, more mine. The grapevine swayed over our heads. He rammed into me to the hilt, yanking my hair with one hand and gripping my hip with the other, and I pushed my ass back to take him even deeper. He was fucking me like no one had ever fucked me, like a slut, and I was asking for more.

He slid a wet thumb into my ass as he kept pounding my pussy, and that was where I lost my mind. I came again, face pressed into the towel and my tits bouncing underneath me. My cunt clamped down around his cock in waves and he let out a long groan.

—I’m going to come —he warned.

—Not inside —I barely got out.

He pulled out in time, just in time. He grabbed his cock and gave it a couple of short pulls over my back. I felt hot jets spilling onto the small of my back, my ass, the crease between my cheeks: one, two, three, four. A lot. He came as if he’d been saving it for months. I collapsed face-down on the towel, undone, laughing and trembling in equal measure, with his cum sliding toward the base of my ass.

He bent down, ran two fingers along my back gathering some of his load, and brought them to my mouth. I opened without thinking. I licked his fingers clean and he smiled, his cock still hard and dripping between his legs.

***

I should have stopped there. I should have gotten up, dressed, gone home and called Rubén to hear his tired exam-season voice. But I did none of that.

The phone started ringing in the middle of the afternoon. It was Rubén. I left it vibrating on the hammock, face down, while Adama poured me another drink and told me stories about his city that I only half heard, hypnotized by the way his lips moved and by the bulge that was already showing again under his dry trunks. Each ring was a stab of guilt that alcohol and the desire for more immediately covered up.

—Your boyfriend —he said, without asking, pointing at the phone.

—Yes.

—Are you going to answer?

—No —I said, and I was surprised at how easily it came out.

Night fell and with it a little coolness, just enough for the countryside to breathe. We stayed by the pool, now in the dark, with only the moonlight on the still water. We did it there again, on the edge. He sat me astride him, with my legs open over his thighs and my back against his chest, and I slid him in myself, lowering slowly until I had his cock all the way inside me again. I fucked myself, rising and falling, squeezing my cunt around that shaft every time he pulled almost all the way out, while he pinched my nipples from behind and murmured dirty things in my ear in his dragged-out accent. We were aware that in some distant house the neighbors might hear something and not know where it was coming from. That thought, far from holding me back, made me hotter. I came on top of him in silence, biting my lip so I wouldn’t scream, and felt him come a few seconds later, this time yes, inside me, a hot gush that filled me completely. I didn’t even stop him. I didn’t care.

He carried me in his arms to his house. The living room rug welcomed us better than any bed. He laid me on my back, knelt between my legs, and ate my pussy again, now with his own cum dripping inside me. I covered my face with my hands, dying of shame and pleasure, while he licked me and swallowed what was coming out of me. Then he ordered pizza by phone, his cock still hard in his hand, and when it arrived he fed me piece by piece while I sat on him, turned away, looking at the stars through the open window with his cock once again buried to the hilt inside me. We moved slowly, without urgency, as if we wanted to stretch the night as long as possible. He made me come two more times like that, sitting on him, eating a slice of pizza while my cunt dripped all over his lap.

The phone kept ringing in the dark of the neighboring property. I no longer even heard it.

In the middle of the night he did me in his bed again, this time on my side, with one of my legs over his shoulder and the other bent under his body, fucking me slowly, with his cock coming out of my cunt gleaming with every thrust. I lost count of how many times I came. I lost count of how many times he did. I sucked his cock one more time before dawn, kneeling at the foot of the bed, and swallowed everything he gave me without thinking. It tasted like him, like pool water, like my own cunt, and it seemed like the best taste in the world.

***

Dawn came and I was still there, tangled in his arms, smelling of chlorine, rum, semen, and man. The first light was coming through the window, gray and clean, and for a moment I was frightened of myself. Of how little it had taken. Of how much I wanted to do it again.

—I have to go —I said.

—I know.

He didn’t ask me to stay, or for my number, or for anything. He only kissed my forehead, slowly, like you kiss something you know is borrowed. I picked up my bikini, half dry, from the back of a chair, pulled it on over a cunt that was still sore and full of him, and crossed barefoot back over the low fence to my grandfather’s house as the first cicadas were already warming up.

I called Rubén from the porch. I lied. I told him my battery had died, that I’d had a little too much to drink, that I missed him. He believed me, because he had never had reason not to. And while I was talking to him, I felt another man’s semen slipping down my thigh inside my bikini, I looked at the still pool and the towel still wrinkled under the grapevine, and I knew that girl who had gone down to the countryside alone a few days earlier no longer existed.

Adama left a week later. I never saw him again. We didn’t exchange numbers, or promises, or that kind of lies people tell so they won’t feel dirty. It was exactly what it was meant to be: a pause, a crack, a truth about myself I would have preferred not to know and that I could no longer ignore.

I broke up with Rubén at the end of that summer. Not because of guilt, or not only because of guilt. I left him because I already knew there was a part of me he had never touched, that his cock had never reached, and that I was no longer willing to keep under lock and key.

Many years have passed since then. I have another life, another skin over me. But every time I go back to my grandfather’s farm and see that pool trembling under the sun, I’m twenty again, a white bikini drifting in the water, a huge cock splitting me open under the grapevine, and a heat in my body that I don’t know if was the beginning of something or the end of the girl I used to be. This is my confession. Do with it what you will.