I confess I couldn’t forget Valeria’s smile

I’d been thinking about Valeria for several days. About the way she had of appearing in places as if she had always been there, without making a sound, without needing anyone to introduce her. I met her through a mutual friend at one of those parties where people drink more than they talk, and from that very first night I was left with one clear idea: Valeria was the kind of person who did exactly what she wanted, without asking permission and without giving explanations.

I sent her a message that afternoon, a Tuesday with nothing special about it. I was direct, no detours: I told her I wanted to fuck her. She took less than ten minutes to reply: “Tomorrow at nine. Give me the address.” No bargaining, no asking what I had in mind. As if she already knew.

I spent the rest of the day with my dick half-hard, waiting.

***

She arrived on time, with a small backpack slung over one shoulder and no coat despite the October cold. I opened the door and she came in as if my apartment were hers: she looked around curiously but didn’t stop at anything, left the backpack by the wall in the hallway, and went straight to the bathroom.

—Give me a minute —she said from behind the door.

I heard the water running, zippers opening, fabric falling onto the tiled floor. I sat on the edge of the bed and waited. Ten minutes. Fifteen. Then the latch opening.

She came out wearing a white blazer that fell to mid-thigh. Only the blazer, nothing underneath. The jacket fit snugly across her shoulders but opened enough below to suggest without fully showing: a glimpse of small, firm tits with her nipples pressing against the fabric, the beginning of a flat stomach, nothing more. Below the hem, her long bare legs, and between them, when she took a step, the shaved shadow of her pussy.

She was twenty-one. Tall, lean, and athletic, with brown hair gathered into a bun that was already starting to come undone at the sides. She had a slender neck, slim arms with just enough muscle, and on her face an expression that was hard to pin down: attentive, amused, slightly mocking. As if everything about to happen seemed, at once, completely normal and moderately funny to her.

She pulled out a candy from somewhere, one of those red strawberry ones that stain your lips. She put it in her mouth and started rolling it between her teeth with a slowness that was clearly deliberate, letting the tip of her tongue slip out to suck it. She never looked away from me. She licked her lips, already tinted red, and smiled.

—Are you going to put it in my mouth or are you going to stare at me all night? —she asked, her voice calm, as if she were asking the time.

I got up from the bed and undid my belt as I walked toward her. She yanked the blazer open without ceremony and showed herself completely: the small tits topped by dark, hard nipples, the flat belly, the shaved pussy with its lips already shining wet. She ran two fingers through her slit, brought them to her mouth along with the candy, and sucked them just the same.

—So you see you’re not the only one who came prepared —she said.

***

Valeria didn’t dodge difficult things. When something big stood in front of her, she looked at it like an interesting problem, not an obstacle. That attitude made her different: there was not a trace in her of the act you sometimes notice, that urge to seem more eager than you really are. She did what she did because she wanted to, and that showed in every detail, from the way she dropped to her knees when I put a hand on her shoulder to the way she half-closed her eyes when she started.

She sank down onto her knees without my having to say anything else. The candy vanished from her lips at some point I didn’t catch, spit into her palm and left on the edge of the little table. She pulled down my pants and underwear in one movement and my cock sprang up a handspan from her face. She didn’t look away. She took it at the base with one hand, weighed it, looked at it like someone evaluating a tool, and smiled again.

—What a dick —she said softly, more to herself than to me.

And she took it all into her mouth without warning.

At first she did it slowly, without haste, like someone exploring before committing. First the lips, closing tightly around the head and going down two, three centimeters, rising again. Then the tongue, circling under the frenulum with a precision that made me clench my teeth. Then both things at once: she sucked with hollowed cheeks while her tongue worked inside, and the free hand went between my legs to fondle my balls, weighing them too, squeezing just enough.

The saliva built up almost immediately and started dripping from the corner of her mouth, running down her hand and reaching her tits. The sound she made was wet and thick, a rhythmic sloshing each time she picked up the pace, mixed with those muffled grunts that escaped from the back of her throat when she swallowed me down whole. There was nothing restrained or proper about it: it was loud and real, and that made it better than anything else.

When she reached the limit of what her mouth could hold, she didn’t just accept it. She pushed against it, tried it, tried again with more determination, forcing her throat until the tip of my cock hit the back. Nausea rose up from deep inside her and she kept it at bay with a concentration that reddened her cheeks and moistened her eyes until mascara began to streak down in two black lines. Her teeth grazed me sometimes by accident. Then she opened her eyes and looked up at me from below, mouth full and chin shining with saliva, and there was no apology in that look, only a question.

Keep going?

I kept going.

I grabbed her bun with one hand, closing my fist in her hair, and set the pace. At first gently, to see how much she could take. She could take everything. Each shove made her swallow a little more, until my nose was buried in her stomach and her throat tightened around my cock in waves that tore tears from her and left strands of saliva hanging in thick threads down to her tits.

—Good girl —I told her, and she closed her eyes as if the words had gone straight through her.

I placed her hands behind her waist, crossed one over the other, not tying them but making it clear that was where they were to stay. Valeria understood without my having to say anything. She stayed like that, still except for her head and neck, and what followed went on without the support or control the hands would have given. Just the mouth. Just the effort visible in her forehead and throat. I fucked her face slowly and then less slowly, holding her by the nape and by the hair, driving her down to the root and leaving her there for a few seconds before pulling her back up to let her breathe. Every time I pulled out, she gulped air with her mouth open and looked at me, and as soon as she saw I was going to shove it back in, she stuck out her tongue and laid it flat to receive me.

I took my time. She did too.

***

I asked her to change positions after we’d been at it for a good while. She leaned on her elbows on the bed with her back arched and her ass lifted, without needing me to explain any further. From that position the blazer opened completely and I could see the line of her back descending to the curve of her hips, the shape of her ass, the smooth pale skin. Her pussy opened between her thighs, swollen and shining, with a thread of juice running down the inside of her thigh to her knee. A little higher, the dark star of her asshole, tight and clean.

I stood looking for a moment without moving. She waited without saying anything. Then she reached back with one hand and spread her own ass cheeks, offering herself completely.

—What are you waiting for? —she said at last, her voice calm, without impatience. And with laughter. Always with laughter—. Eat it.

I knelt behind her and pressed my mouth to her pussy.

She was soaked. She tasted like hot woman, like salt and a sweet undertone that made it impossible to stop. I ran my whole tongue from bottom to top, from clit to ass and back again, and she let out a long moan, the first one that wasn’t a joke, pressing her face into the mattress. I grabbed her hips with both hands, held her steady so she wouldn’t slip away from me, and started eating her for real: sucking each lip one by one, burying my tongue as deep as it would go, going back to her clit to work tight circles until her knees were trembling.

Then I moved higher. I licked her ass slowly, with the tip of my tongue, and felt how it tightened and opened beneath my mouth. I slipped my tongue in there too, just the tip, and Valeria let out a low, rough laugh against the sheets.

—Well, well —she murmured—. Not bad.

I pushed two fingers into her pussy while I kept my tongue working above, and with my other hand I found her clit. She started moving against my face with a rhythm that grew more urgent, pushing her ass back, smothering her moans into the pillow. When she came, she came hard: she clamped her thighs around my head, her pussy tightened around my fingers in spasms that lasted long seconds, and she soaked my chin and neck with hot slick.

Then she turned around, panting, hair stuck to her forehead, and smiled at me with her face still red.

—Put it in already —she said—. I’m so turned on I can’t stand it.

I took her by the ankles, spread them wide, and got between her legs. My cock slid into her cunt in one thrust, all the way to the hilt, and we both let out our breath at the same time. She was so wet she took me whole with no resistance, and so tight at the same time that I felt every centimeter of her walls squeezing me.

I fucked her missionary first, deep and slow, never taking my eyes off her. She looked up at me from below with parted lips and that half-smile that never left her, not even when her tits bounced with every thrust and she let out one “ah” after another. I hooked one leg behind the knee and lifted it onto my shoulder to get deeper. A long moan escaped her.

—Like that, like that —she gasped—. Break it.

I put her on all fours and entered her from behind. I grabbed her hips and started fucking her for real, with thrusts that pushed her forward on the bed and forced her against the headboard. The sound of our bodies slamming together filled the room, mixed with the sloshing of her soaked pussy and the moans Valeria no longer bothered to hide. I ran my wet thumb over her ass, pushed it in to the knuckle, and she arched her back and let out a muffled cry that was not from pain.

—Another finger —she asked, her voice hoarse—. Come on.

I put a second finger in her ass while I kept fucking her pussy, and I felt everything inside her clench. She came again, gripping the headboard, knuckles white and panting rising from her belly.

Then I put her on top of me. I lay on my back and she took me in herself, bracing her hands on my pecs and starting to move up and down at her own pace, slower than what I’d been doing, almost meditative. She looked at me while she rode me, with that half-smile, controlling the angle and the depth herself. I grabbed her tits, squeezed them, pinched her nipples until she let out a growl. She leaned forward and pressed her mouth to my ear.

—Finish wherever you want —she whispered—. Wherever you feel like.

Valeria was the kind who prefers giving to receiving. At that moment I was the recipient of all that concentrated energy, and she knew it, and seemed satisfied with that.

Time passed that I didn’t measure.

***

I laid her on her back when I was close to the end. Her cheeks were flushed and the bun was completely undone, her hair spread over the pillow as if she’d been rolling around. Her lips were swollen, from the sex and the candy. The blazer was open and wrinkled under her back. And the smile. Still the smile, even like that, in that state, with the mascara smeared, with her tits red from bites, with her pussy still opening and closing on nothing.

I placed her hands at the sides of her head, not holding them down, just putting them there. A boundary that was also a question. She left them exactly where I’d put them, without trying to move them.

I knelt over her chest and presented the cock glistening with her own fluids a handspan from her mouth. She opened her lips without being asked and stuck out her tongue, flat, waiting.

—Finish —she said, her tongue out and not taking her eyes off mine.

I jerked off quickly over her, gripping the base hard, and came in her mouth in three long spurts. Valeria took it without moving, without turning her head away, without any of those gestures the body produces by instinct when it can’t help itself. The first load fell inside and spilled from the corner of her mouth. The second filled her tongue. The third escaped and splashed her chin and neck. She closed her eyes for a second. Opened them. Showed me her mouth full of semen, rolling it with her tongue as if it were mouthwash, and then swallowed it slowly, all of it, without looking away from me. There was something in her eyes that looked a lot like satisfaction.

What she did next I did not see coming at all.

She propped herself up on one elbow, looked at me with the same expression as always, and spat what was left of my load into her own hand. Slowly. Without ever looking away from me. Then she smeared it across her left cheek with almost ceremonial deliberation, spread it over her forehead, over the bridge of her nose. She worked the semen across her whole face with the serenity of someone doing something perfectly reasonable. And then she burst out laughing. A short, genuine laugh, without artifice, the same one I’d heard before when she tripped on the step at the entrance when she arrived.

—Don’t look at me like that —she said, still laughing, face coated and shining—. I just felt like it.

I just felt like it. No further explanation. None needed.

***

She got up to wash her face with the same calm she’d shown in everything else. She came back with her hair gathered up again, this time better than before, and the red candy back between her teeth. I don’t know where she’d gotten it from. She sat on the edge of the bed, beside me, and looked toward the window with that expression of hers, being everywhere at once and nowhere in particular.

—Are you hungry? —she asked.

I was hungry.

We went to the kitchen and she made me something to eat with what was in the fridge: Manchego cheese, turkey slices, a big slice of bread. She did it with the ease of someone who’d spent years moving around someone else’s kitchen, finding the knife in the right drawer on the first try, estimating portions without asking me what I wanted. We ate sitting on the stools at the bar, her still in the blazer and the candy moving from one cheek to the other between bites, me still not having fully processed anything.

—Are you always like this? —I asked her at some point.

She looked at me. Shrugged.

—Like what?

I didn’t know how to finish the question. Like this, plain and simple. So calm. So completely herself in every moment, even the most absurd ones. So without needing to explain herself, without asking for validation, without the slightest sign that she cared what I thought about everything she had just done.

—Yes —she said, as if she had read the full version of what I couldn’t say—. Always.

***

At some point she picked up her backpack, put on the shoes she’d left by the door, and kissed me on the cheek on the way out. Not one of those kisses that are promises of something more. The kind that are clean full stops. The door closed and I stood alone in the hallway for a moment, hearing her footsteps going down the stairs until the sound disappeared.

What I remember from that night is not so much what happened as the way it happened. The ease. The absence of any weight or drama. Valeria did things as if they mattered no more than anything else, and that, paradoxically, made them matter all the more.

The smile that never disappeared. Even when the body had every reason not to smile.

That’s what I didn’t forget. Not the red candy, not the white blazer, not the laugh with her face still smeared with semen.

The smile.

Valeria always smiled, no matter what happened.