I Confess What I Experienced That Rainy Weekend

The morning sun filtered through the half-closed curtains of my apartment, bathing the room in a warm gold. I woke to the aroma of freshly brewed coffee floating in the air, mingled with that faint scent of her skin still lingering on the sheets. Mariana was twenty-three, eight years younger than me, but in moments like that the difference dissolved like mist at dawn.

We had met a few months earlier at a bookstore café downtown, where she studied photography surrounded by old magazines while I programmed websites on my own, struggling with a client who never knew what he wanted. The first time, I spilled half a cup on her because I couldn't stop staring. Since then, these stolen weekends had become our refuge. We didn't tell anyone. We didn't need to.

I sat up in bed, the mattress creaking beneath my weight, and saw her in the open kitchen with her back to me. She was wearing one of my old T-shirts, which came almost to her knees, and her wavy brown hair fell down her back like a cascade. Her movements were slow, almost those of someone who still hadn't fully woken up, as she poured coffee into two cups.

I felt a tug in my chest, that warmth only she could bring out in me, as if her mere presence rearranged the world around me.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” she said without turning around, her voice husky with sleep and carrying that soft coastal accent that gave her away.

I got up, barefoot on the cold wooden floor, and came up behind her. My hands found her waist, and I pulled her against me. She leaned back slightly, resting her head on my shoulder, and the heat of her body came through the thin fabric. She smelled of vanilla and something deeper, something that belonged only to her. With no panties beneath the T-shirt, I felt her warm, naked ass pressing against my bulge, and my cock, already half-awake, began hardening against the fabric of my boxers.

“You smell like home,” I murmured against her neck, brushing her skin with my lips.

It wasn't a thought-out line. It simply came out, raw and honest.

She turned in my arms. Her green eyes met mine, deep as a forest after the rain, and in them I saw that spark of curiosity that always undid me. She smiled, a subtle curve of her lips, lowered her hand, and squeezed my cock through my boxers without taking her eyes off me.

“Look at you getting hard,” she murmured, handing me a cup with her other hand. “Try it. I made it the way you like it: strong and without sugar.”

We drank in silence, standing beside the counter, while she kept her hand on me, slowly massaging me through the fabric. We didn't need to fill the air with words. The chemistry between us was a constant pulse that quickened with every glance. I set my cup aside and lifted her by the waist, sitting her on the cold counter. Her T-shirt rode up to her hips, and I pulled her legs open. She was wet. The tips of my fingers sank without resistance between her swollen lips, and she bit her lower lip.

“Already like this so early?” I said, pushing two fingers all the way inside her. Her pussy squeezed me with a warm spasm.

“I dreamed about you all night,” she panted, throwing her head back. “With your cock in my mouth.”

I pulled down my boxers and took out my hard, throbbing cock. She slid off the counter and knelt on the wooden floor without my asking. She gripped the base with one hand, stuck out her tongue, and licked me from my balls to the tip, slowly, her green eyes fixed on mine. Then she took me all the way into her mouth, until I felt the tip hit the back of her throat, and began sucking me with that quiet hunger she had only in the mornings. I grabbed her hair and set the pace, barely thrusting my hips, watching her cheeks hollow each time she sucked. A thread of saliva ran from her chin down to the tits visible beneath the fabric.

“That's it, sweetheart, suck it like that,” I growled, and she answered by speeding up, her hand now working along with her mouth, circling my glans.

I made her pull off before I came. I lifted her, turned her toward the counter, and pressed her face against the cold surface. I pulled up her shirt, saw her pert ass, her cheeks parting with her position, and buried my tongue between her wet lips from behind, licking upward, pausing at her clitoris and barely brushing her asshole. She moaned against the counter, rocking her hips into my face.

“Put it in me, Diego. Please, put it in me now.”

I stood up, spat on my hand, ran it over the tip, and drove my cock into her in one thrust. She cried out, and one of the cups fell to the floor and shattered. Neither of us looked. I grabbed her hair, pulled her head back, and started fucking her standing up, hard, slamming her ass with my hips, watching her back arch.

“Tell me you're mine,” I said in her ear, never stopping my thrusts.

“I'm yours, all yours. My whole pussy is yours,” she panted, her voice broken by every impact.

I felt her come almost immediately, squeezing me inside her like a fist, her legs trembling. I pulled out before I finished. I didn't want it to end so quickly. I helped her straighten up, turned her around, and kissed her deeply, tasting her own flavor in my mouth.

“We'll continue later,” I told her against her lips.

She smiled, still breathless, and ran her wet fingers over my mouth.

***

We went for a walk in the park a couple of blocks away. The cool morning air carried the smell of damp earth and fallen leaves. It was autumn, and the leaves crackled beneath our feet as we wandered without a destination. She hooked her arm through mine, her light body against me, and told me about a dream from the night before: something about flying over the city with paper wings. I laughed imagining it, and she looked at me with that intensity that left me exposed, as if she could see through my defenses.

“You know?” she said suddenly, stopping beside a bench. “Sometimes I wonder how we fit together so well. You with your orderly life, and me… a walking disaster.”

I turned toward her and held her gaze. The wind played with her hair. I reached out and brushed a strand away from her cheek. Her skin was soft and warm beneath my fingers.

“We fit because we don't try to change who we are,” I replied softly. “You make me laugh, you make me feel alive. And I just want to be here, with you.”

Her eyes softened. She leaned in, and her lips brushed mine in a brief kiss, barely a preview. Her mouth tasted sweet, like the coffee we'd shared, and I felt her heartbeat against my chest. We didn't deepen it. Not there, not yet. But desire flared, a slow fire that followed us back to the apartment.

***

The day passed inside a bubble. We cooked together, she chopping vegetables with that adorable concentration that wrinkled her brow, while I stole kisses from the nape of her neck as she stirred the sauce. Every so often she nudged me away with her hip to reach the stove and laughed to herself at the game. We ate lunch on the couch, her legs across mine, talking about books we'd misread and movies that had affected us for reasons we didn't dare explain. We seriously argued about an ending she hated and I defended, and ended up laughing at how stubborn we both were. Her laughter was contagious, vibrating through the air, and every time her eyes met mine I felt that profound connection, as if we were two puzzle pieces that fit together effortlessly.

In the afternoon, the rain came down. We stayed inside, sprawled on the bed with a movie playing in the background that neither of us was really watching. Her fingers drew patterns over my bare chest, tracing the lines of my muscles with a curiosity that raised gooseflesh on my skin. I answered by caressing her thigh, moving slowly upward beneath her T-shirt, feeling the heat of her body. When my fingers brushed her pussy, she was already wet again. I opened her folds with two fingers and pushed the middle one in to the knuckle. She arched and sought my mouth with hers.

“Don't stop,” she whispered.

I tore off her T-shirt and buried my head between her legs. I ate her pussy hungrily, sucking her clitoris, pushing my tongue as deep as I could while two fingers slipped in and out of her ass. She gripped the sheets in her fists, moaning my name, arching her hips against my face. She came in my mouth trembling, squeezing my head between her thighs, and I swallowed everything, savoring the warm liquid running down my chin.

I climbed over her body, my mouth still shining with her, and ran my tongue over her lips so she could taste herself. I turned her facedown, lifted her hips, and showed her how her swollen, glistening pussy opened, ready. I drove my cock into her and grabbed her by her braided hair, fucking her on all fours, watching my cock slide in and out coated in her juices. She pushed her ass back, seeking more of me. The bed creaked. Rain struck the window in a steady rhythm that blended with the wet sound of our flesh colliding.

“I love you,” she whispered afterward, when we lay embracing and breathless, her warm breath against my ear.

I went a second without breathing. She had said it before, but never like that, so softly, so defenselessly. I held her tighter and kissed the crown of her head, letting the rain fill the silence.

Night fell with a gentle darkness, barely lit by the city lights filtering through the window. We had dinner on the balcony, wrapped in a blanket, the cool air biting our skin. We talked about fears: mine, of getting stuck in routine; hers, of never finding her place in the world of images. Her words were vulnerable, and I absorbed them, pulling her closer, kissing her temples and closed eyelids.

***

We went back to the bedroom, and the desire that had built up all day exploded at once. I undressed her with trembling hands, revealing her body little by little: her soft curves, firm tits with nipples already hard and erect, her flat belly, her shaved pubis glistening faintly with moisture. She looked at me, naked and trusting, yanked off my boxers, and pulled me toward the bed.

I kissed her hungrily, my tongue exploring her mouth while my hands squeezed her hips and pinched her nipples until she moaned. She dug her fingers into my back and pulled me toward her as if she wanted to erase the last inch of distance between us. I moved slowly downward, my mouth traveling over her neck and collarbone, lingering in every hollow where her skin pulsed hardest, until I closed my lips around one of her nipples. I sucked it hard, tugging it with my teeth, and she arched her back with a deep moan. I moved to the other and did the same, biting it until she dug her nails into the back of my neck.

“Diego…” she moaned when I came back up and lightly bit her earlobe.

“Suck me again,” I asked, and she looked at me with a wicked smile.

I lay back, and she settled between my legs. She grabbed my cock with both hands, spat on the glans, and spread the saliva by sliding her fist down to the base. Then she swallowed me whole, sucking me in and letting me feel her throat tighten around the tip. I saw her eyes fill with tears when she took me all the way in, and even so she continued, bobbing her head, letting saliva run down over my balls. I grabbed her hair, lifted it so I could see her face, and slowly pushed her, fucking her mouth at the pace I wanted.

“You suck it so well, you slut,” I growled, and she moaned with her mouth full, the sound vibrating through my cock.

When I felt I was about to come, I pulled her away. I grabbed her, turned her around, and placed her on her back with her head hanging over the edge of the bed. I opened her mouth and pushed my cock into it from above, fucking her throat, watching her neck swell every time I went all the way in. I grabbed and squeezed her tits with both hands while she stroked my balls with one hand and rubbed her clitoris with the other. She was drenched. A thread of fluid ran down to her navel.

I lifted her, laid her down in the middle of the bed, and settled between her legs. She was wet, hot, ready, and I entered her slowly, feeling every inch of my cock making its way inside, enveloped by her tight flesh. She moaned, her nails digging into my shoulders, and we began moving in an instinctive, deep, steady rhythm. I thrust, she met me, our bodies colliding with a wet, raw sound. I grabbed one of her legs and put it over my shoulder, going deeper, feeling her cervix against the tip every time I thrust.

Pleasure rose in waves. Her moans filled the room, mingling with mine and the rain pattering against the glass. I turned her over and lay on my back, letting her climb on top, and then she set the pace, her hands braced on my chest, her hair falling across her face, her tits bouncing with every movement. I put my thumb in her mouth, and she sucked it. Then I lowered it, lubricated her asshole, and pushed it in to the knuckle while she rode me. She released a guttural moan and tightened around me, circling her hips, fucking herself on my cock and finger.

“That's it, don't stop,” she panted, throwing her head back. “I'm going to come all over your cock.”

Seeing her like that, mistress of her own pleasure, with my finger in her ass and my cock buried in her pussy, brought me to the edge faster than I wanted. I grabbed her waist and laid her back down, climbed over her, and thrust harder, braced on my forearms, my forehead pressed to hers, our breaths mingling. The bed slammed against the wall. The mattress squeaked. Her pussy clenched around my cock in increasingly frequent spasms, and I felt my orgasm approaching like a storm that could no longer be stopped.

“Come with me,” I whispered hoarsely. “Where do you want me to finish?”

“Inside, all the way inside,” she answered, pressing her mouth to my ear. “I want to feel you fill me.”

I drove my cock all the way in and let go. I felt my cum shooting out in hot bursts, filling her, while she convulsed beneath me, spasms running from head to toe, squeezing me inside her, milking me of every last drop. I cried out against her neck, and she sank her teeth into my shoulder, muffling her own cry. We kept moving a little longer, in increasingly slow jolts, while the semen began running down her thighs and mine.

We collapsed, exhausted, sticky, and tangled together, with neither the strength nor the desire to separate. I slowly pulled out of her and watched a thick white thread drip from her pussy onto the sheet. I ran two fingers through it, gathered it up, and put them in her mouth. She sucked them without taking her eyes off me.

***

We lay in silence, our chests rising and falling almost in unison. Her head rested on my shoulder, my arm around her waist. We said nothing. We didn't need to. That moment—their bodies still joined by the sticky residue, the echo of pleasure in the air, the rain striking the window—was etched inside us like an unspoken promise.

I confess it plainly: I never told anyone what those two days were like. It happened a while ago, and it still keeps me awake. Not because of the sex, though that too, but because of the way everything fit, because of that strange feeling of being exactly where I was supposed to be. Sometimes, when it rains, I hear that sound against the glass again and see her serving coffee with her back to me, wearing my old T-shirt, and I understand that there are things we don't choose to remember: they simply stay.