I Ran Into Him Again Two Years After That Trip

Hi, it’s Renata again. Despite everything I’ve lived through, I’m still surprised by what a woman is capable of when desire takes hold. And, above all, I’m surprised by how much I enjoy it without guilt. One of the good things in my life is that I keep it quiet: low profile, few words, no explanations. What happens on each trip stays on each trip.

I’m thirty-two and I’ve worked since I was very young. I travel the country end to end, from one construction site to another, sleeping in transient hotels and meeting people I’ll never see again. That, precisely, gives me a freedom I’d have a hard time explaining to anyone. Nobody waits for me, nobody asks questions. And among all those anonymous faces there’s one I never quite managed to erase.

The first time was in a lost spot in the north, two years ago. A red-dirt village with endless siestas where I’d gone to supervise a minor project. That’s where I met him. They called him Tincho, and he was a boy with very little going on upstairs but plenty of body for everything else. He had something disarming: a mix of shyness and surrender you don’t find in men who think they’re experts. And he also had the biggest cock I’ve ever had in my life. I’m not exaggerating: a thick, long dick with pronounced veins and heavy balls hanging taut between his legs. That night he drove it into me all the way to the hilt, made me scream face-down into the pillow, and ended up filling me three times in a row, leaving my cunt swollen and dripping semen until dawn. I let myself go in a way that afterwards I could barely get out of my head.

Over time I filed it away as one of those anecdotes you keep to smile to yourself on a plane. Nothing more. Until fate got capricious.

***

Months later they sent me south, to a windy city near the coast, to coordinate a large building project. By then I was more seasoned, with more responsibilities and more world under my belt. I was driving the company car toward the site, distracted, mentally going over plans, when I stopped at a traffic light and saw him crossing.

It was him. No doubt about it. The same way of walking with his eyes on the ground, the same broad shoulders, the same face of not fully understanding what the world expected from him. He crossed in front of my hood carrying some bags and went into a small neighborhood corner store. My mouth went dry all at once, and at the same time I felt my panties dampen just remembering the size of that cock.

This can’t be happening, him of all people, here of all places.

That same afternoon, when I finished work, instead of going back to the hotel I sat in a café across from the store. I ordered something, anything, and stayed there watching. I wanted to understand who he was with, how he lived, whether he was still the same. I saw him behind the counter, arranging crates, greeting the neighbors by name. It turned out he lived in the back of the shop, in a room his older brother, the owner, let him use. He also watched over it at night. They brought him food from a rotisserie a couple of blocks away. The people in the neighborhood liked him; that was obvious.

I left without him seeing me and came back the next day. Just to be safe, I came in through the back passage on foot. He was just coming back with his dinner, and when he recognized me his whole face lit up. He dropped the bags, came almost running, and hugged me as if we were old friends reuniting after a war.

—You came! —he said, and repeated it three times without letting go of me.

Within five minutes he’d told me half his life: how he’d ended up in that city, how well his brother treated him, how proud he was of his work at the store. He showed me into his room and I was surprised by how neat it was. He had just what he needed, everything clean, everything in its place. A bed, a table, a shelf with two or three ornaments. It smelled like soap.

—To me, you’re my girlfriend —he blurted out all of a sudden, with a sincerity that left me speechless—. I fought with people from the village over you. They said ugly things about how it had been. I didn’t like it.

I felt a strange pang, a mix of tenderness and something less noble. The goodbye hug said everything: he squeezed me hard, and as he did I felt against my hip that unmistakable bulge, that cock already half-hard pushing inside his pants, looking for a place. It made my skin prickle all over and had my cunt wet in two seconds. I had to cut the moment short before I knelt right there and used my teeth to pull his zipper down.

—I have to go —I told him—. But I’ve got a few days here. I’ll come see you, okay?

He nodded like a little boy being promised he’d get to go back to the park. And I left with shaky legs, my panties soaked through, and my head somewhere else.

***

My hotel was just a few blocks away, so I didn’t last very long. The next day I ran into him again, almost on purpose, and told him I’d come by that night. At nine on the dot I knocked on his door. He had just showered, he smelled good, and he was wearing the nicest clothes he owned. I’d come prepared from earlier, neat down to the last detail, determined not to leave anything to chance: new panties, thigh-high stockings, and my shaved cunt waiting neatly for him to wreck it.

I went in, locked the door, and didn’t waste time chatting. I stepped close and started unbuttoning his shirt.

—Stay still —I asked him, and he obeyed instantly.

That obedience, that way of surrendering without scheming about anything, turned me on more than any technique ever could. I took off his shirt, then his belt, and when I pulled down his pants along with his underwear, his cock sprang out with a heavy bounce, already rock hard, pointing at my face. A sigh slipped out of me. It was still enormous: thick as my wrist, long, with a shiny, veiny head and balls clenched against the base, asking for war. I took my clothes off too, unhurried, letting the cold air run down my back and slowly show him my hard tits, my waist, my cunt already glistening between my thighs.

I knelt in front of him. He was rock hard before I even touched him, throbbing against his stomach and dripping a clear thread from the tip. I took him with both hands —one hand wasn’t enough to hold all of him— and kissed the head, slowly sucked that salty liquid, played with my tongue around the crown until a rough groan slipped out of him. I licked him from top to bottom, tracing every vein with the tip of my tongue, then lowered my mouth to his balls and took them one by one, sucking them gently, feeling them tighten against my tongue. I came back up and this time took as much of him into my mouth as I could. Not even half of it fit. I sucked his cock slowly, using both hands, spitting saliva so it would slide, until I had his whole dick soaked and it was running down over his balls. I loved feeling how hard it was for him to stay still, how he clung to the edge of the table so he wouldn’t move, how his thighs tightened every time I swallowed a little more of him deeper down.

Then I laid him on the bed and stretched out beside him.

—Kiss me like I taught you last time —I told him—. Start here.

And he started with my breasts, with that fast, shameless tongue of his. He sucked my nipples one after the other, nipped at them, left them hard and shiny with spit. While he kissed me, I couldn’t help asking him questions in a low voice, almost in his ear.

—Have you been with another woman in all this time?

—Only one —he murmured without stopping kissing me—. Months ago. But the others say I hurt them, that I don’t fit.

—And you remembered me?

—Every night —he answered—. I jerk off thinking about your ass.

A rough laugh escaped me and I shoved his head down. When his mouth came between my legs, I stopped asking questions. He pried my cunt lips open with his fingers, without delicacy, and drove his tongue into me like he had delayed hunger. He had an tireless tongue, no tricks but brute persistence. He licked me from bottom to top, long and slow, always ending at the clit, sucking it between his lips until I started writhing. I grabbed his head with both hands and rubbed his face against my cunt, shameless, setting the pace myself. He brought me up little by little, wave after wave, until I arched against his face and came with a muffled cry into my own hand, squeezing his head between my thighs until I nearly smothered him. When he let me go, his whole mouth and chin were shining with my juices. It took me a few seconds to breathe normally again.

I told him to lie on his back. I wanted to give him something back. I settled between his legs and took his cock with both hands again. It was even more swollen than before, red, throbbing. I spat on it and started sucking it for real, going up and down with rhythm, using my hand at the base and massaging his balls with the other. I looked him in the eyes while I sucked him, so he’d see how my lips stretched around that cock. He was so loaded, so eager, that he lasted very little: I felt his balls tighten, his cock get even harder, and suddenly he started shooting thick, hot ropes into the back of my throat. I swallowed everything without letting him go, feeling his thighs tremble and every spurt fill my mouth. I licked the tip clean down to the last drop and showed him my clean tongue.

I thought that was the end of it. I still didn’t know him well enough.

***

I rode him without giving him a break. He was still rock hard, as if nothing had happened, and that was exactly what I remembered about him: a resistance that made no sense. I took his cock, lined it up at my cunt opening, and sank down slowly, centimeter by centimeter, feeling him open me from the inside. I let out a long moan when he reached the bottom. He filled me completely, touched places I didn’t even know I had. I asked him to lick my breasts again while I moved, and he took both tits in his hands and latched onto a nipple like a calf. I rocked on top of him for a good while, setting the rhythm myself, rising to the tip and dropping onto him hard, until my ass was slamming into his thighs with a wet sound. The bed creaked, the room smelled like sex, and every time I came down I felt his balls hit my ass. I braced my hands on his chest, closed my eyes, and fucked myself on top of him, faster, harder, until pleasure caught up with me again and I collapsed onto his chest, gasping, with my cunt clenching in spasms around his cock.

But he still wasn’t done. We changed positions and he got on top of me. He spread my legs wide, lifted them up onto his shoulders, and shoved his cock back into me in one thrust that made me open my eyes and cry out. He started fucking me hard, with deep drives, pulling almost all the way out and then slamming it back to the hilt. I grabbed his hips, digging my fingers in, telling him not to hold back, to put all of it in me, to break me. I could feel his cock pounding inside me, against a spot that made me see lights, and his balls hitting my ass with every thrust. I kissed him on the mouth, something I almost never do, bit his lip, flooded his tongue with mine, just as I felt him get even harder and finish inside me with a long shudder. I felt every hot spurt empty into the back of my cunt and I came again, pressed against him, moaning into his mouth.

I asked him if it hurt, if he wanted to stop. He shook his head no, with a smile that was half goofy, half proud. I looked at his cock: it was still hard, shining, dripping semen and my juices mixed together. And I, who already knew what he was made of, didn’t want to waste it.

I laid him down again. I had prepared for this ahead of time, with lubricant and everything, so I turned over, pressed my face into the mattress, lifted my ass high, and spread my cheeks with both hands.

—Here —I told him—. Put it in here. Slowly at first.

I heard him let out a curse under his breath. I felt the tip of that huge cock press against my ass, push, slide, push again. When the head went in, I clenched my teeth and took a deep breath. He started carefully, little by little, gaining ground millimeter by millimeter, until I felt his thighs against my ass cheeks and knew he had the whole thing inside. I stayed still for a second, feeling split in two, and then I told him to move. He started slowly, with long rocking strokes, and ended up with a brutal rhythm that made me clutch the sheets and bite the pillow so I wouldn’t wake the whole neighborhood. He fucked my ass like I owed it to him, holding my hips, driving it in to the balls with every thrust. When my legs started to fail me, I got up on all fours, firm and steady, and told him to keep going, not to stop, to empty himself in there. And he didn’t stop. He drove into me faster and faster, his hands gripping my ass so hard they’d leave marks, until he let out a growl from deep in his chest and filled me one last time, spurt after spurt, with his cock buried to the hilt in my ass.

He stayed inside me for a long while, throbbing. When he finally pulled out, I felt the semen trickle warm down the backs of my thighs. Only then did we collapse, side by side, soaked and breathless. He found my hand in the dark and fell asleep almost instantly, wrapped around my arm as if afraid I’d vanish.

***

The three nights I had left in that city played out the same way: I finished work, ate something quick, and ended up in his room. Every time it was the same uncalculated surrender, the same unfiltered intensity. He sucked my pussy as soon as I walked in, made me fuck him every possible way, filled my cunt and ass so many times I went back to the hotel dripping. We barely talked. There was no need.

The last night, before I left, I asked him for one thing.

—Don’t tell anyone about this, okay? No one.

—No one —he repeated, serious, like someone swearing an oath.

—If you keep your promise, I promise I’ll come see you again. And I’ll let you do whatever you want to me.

He hugged me so hard he almost cut off my air. And I left knowing I was going to look for the excuse, the trip, whatever pretext I needed to cross half the country again for that cock. Not for love, don’t get me wrong. For that strange, honest thing desire is when it has no one to answer to.

The next day, on the road back, I stopped at a pharmacy. Just in case. After so many loads inside me and everything he’d left me dripping with between my legs, I didn’t want any surprise that would tie me to a place I only want to return to when I feel like it.

Regards. And I’ll tell you whether he kept his promise.