I Took Shelter from the Storm with a Stranger

The storm hit Córdoba without warning, as if the sky had been nursing a grudge all day. Within minutes, Avenida Colón turned into a brown river, and I, Mariela, was running with my bag clutched to my chest and my shoes splashing through every puddle. My dress had stuck to my body like a second skin, outlining my nipples hard from the cold. I cursed the city council, the rain, and my own bright idea of going out without an umbrella.

I’m twenty-five, and that night I learned something about myself that I’d rather not analyze too much. That’s why I’m telling it here and not anywhere else.

I was looking for an awning, a marquee, anything, when a guy appeared beside me under a broken umbrella that barely covered him. Tall, dark-haired, with a three-day beard and a smile that already knew what it wanted.

—Hey, you want to get out of the rain? There’s a hotel around the corner. It’s not far, and we’re both soaking wet anyway —he said, looking me up and down without bothering to hide it, lingering on my tits outlined under the fabric.

I stopped, panting, my hair plastered to my face. I looked him over properly: dark eyes, a confidence I couldn’t tell if it annoyed me or turned me on. But one of those hotels was for one thing only, and it wasn’t exactly drying off.

—No, thanks. I’ll wait in a bar —I replied, crossing my arms over my wet neckline.

He laughed and stepped closer. His voice came out rough over the sound of the rain.

—Look, the bars all closed with this storm. And you’re trembling. It’s just to wait for it to let up. Or are you scared I might offer you something more?

I felt an annoying tingle in my stomach, and lower down, between my legs, a wetness that had nothing to do with the rain. It wasn’t exactly fear. It was curiosity, mixed with that sudden heat that comes out of nowhere and you can’t quite figure out where it comes from.

—Nobody checks into a hotel like that just to take shelter —I said, but my voice didn’t sound firm.

—Damián —he introduced himself, ignoring my objection—. And look at your dress: everything’s showing through. You’re going to catch pneumonia. I don’t bite, unless you ask me to.

I looked down and saw he was right: the bra was clearly visible under the thin fabric, and my nipples were poking out like two hard tips. But that wasn’t what was making me nervous. It was the way he was looking at me, as if he’d already decided everything that was going to happen and was just waiting for me to catch up.

—Fine. Just to get dry —I gave in, not really convinced, while he took my arm, gentle and firm at the same time.

***

We walked a few blocks to a side street. Damián talked about anything and everything to break the ice: traffic, potholes, how much he hated getting his shoes wet. I answered in monosyllables, but little by little something in my shoulders loosened.

The place was discreet, with a flickering neon sign. He paid for the room without hesitation and we went up one floor by the stairs, in a silence thick with tension. Inside was everything you’d expect: a big bed, dark sheets, a huge mirror on the ceiling, and dim lighting that made everything feel more private than I wanted.

I sat on the edge of the mattress to take off my shoes. He peeled off his soaked shirt and revealed a defined torso with a couple of tattoos climbing up his arm. My eyes went straight to the bulge outlined in his wet pants, and I swallowed.

—See? Just shelter —he said, tossing me a towel, though his eyes went straight to my crossed legs.

I wrapped myself in the towel, but the cold was still there, deep in my bones.

—Thanks. I still don’t know if this was a good idea. I feel weird.

Damián sat down beside me, too close.

—Weird how? We’re two adults escaping the rain. What’s so bad about a little heat?

His hand brushed mine and a shiver went through me, but it wasn’t from cold. I swallowed.

—Seriously, I didn’t come here for this.

—You didn’t come here for this —he repeated, leaning in—, but look at the way I’m looking at you. You’re gorgeous. Tell me something about you, that’s all.

We started talking. Me about my boring job at a real estate agency, him about his trips as a salesman. The conversation grew intimate without me deciding to let it. He asked direct questions: if I had a boyfriend, what I liked in a man, how long it had been since I’d last fucked. I answered evasively, but my cheeks burned and I could feel my soaked cunt clenching on its own.

—I don’t have anyone right now. And I’m not looking —I said, my voice trembling exactly on the word that mattered most.

—Lie. Your eyes say something else. If you want to leave, go. The door’s right there. But the rain’s still pouring, we’re alone, and you stayed.

I shook my head. I didn’t move.

—This is crazy.

—Crazy is denying yourself something you want —he took my hand and brought it to his crotch, where I felt his hard cock under the fabric—. Let me give you one kiss. Just one. If you don’t want any more after that, we stop.

***

I hesitated with my heart racing, my hand still resting on the hot bulge in his pants. When our lips touched, it was like putting your hand on an exposed wire. The kiss started slow and quickly turned hungry; he shoved his tongue deep into my mouth, biting my bottom lip, and pulled me by the waist until I was pressed against him. I, who a second before had been thinking about leaving, ended up with my fingers tangled in his hair and my hand squeezing his cock over the fabric.

—Wait —I murmured, with no real intention of making him listen.

—Tell me to stop —he whispered against my neck, kissing it, sucking it until he left a mark.

I didn’t say it. He nipped my ear and a moan slipped out of me that gave me away completely.

His hands slid down my back and found the zipper of the wet dress. The fabric fell to the floor and I was left in my underwear, exposed to that warm light and to his gaze. Damián looked at me like someone finding something he hadn’t expected.

—Look how pretty you are —he said, and the simple line melted me more than anything dirty would have—. Look at those tits, that ass. You’ve had my cock hard since I first saw you in the rain.

I covered myself by instinct. He gently moved my hands aside and kissed my chest over the bra, slowly, nibbling my nipple through the lace until the “no” stuck in my throat turned into a long sigh.

—Tell me what you like —he asked, unfastening the back of my bra.

—I don’t know… keep going, don’t stop —was the only thing I could think to say.

The bra gave way. He paused for a moment, looking at my tits before lowering his mouth to them, first gently, then greedily, sucking one nipple while pinching the other with his fingers. One hand followed the path the other opened, sliding down my belly until it slipped under the edge of my panties. When his fingers touched my clit, I arched without meaning to and let out a moan that echoed all around the room.

—Whoa, look how wet you are —he said, moving two fingers in circles over my soaked cunt—. This isn’t from the rain, is it?

—No… —I admitted, my face burning.

—You’re already trembling, and it’s not from the cold —he went on, sliding his fingers under the last piece of fabric I had left, pushing one deep inside me to the hilt.

I cried out softly and dug my nails into his shoulder. He was right, and that embarrassed me more than being naked. He started pumping his finger slowly, then two, while his thumb punished my clit. He pulled my panties down my legs with calculated slowness and knelt between my thighs, spreading them with his palms. He didn’t say any filth; he just looked at my open, shining cunt for a second, as if asking permission, and lowered his head.

The first lick was long and flat, from bottom to top, and it shook me all over. Then he started sucking my clit with his whole mouth, drawing it hard, while two fingers went in and out of me with a wet, filthy sound that made me die of shame and pleasure at the same time. His tongue worked with a patience I hadn’t expected from someone so bold on the street: he ran it over my lips, dipped into my entrance, came back to torture my clit. One hand held my hip against the mattress; the other went up to squeeze a breast, twisting my nipple.

I clutched the sheets, my legs tense, my breathing in pieces. Without realizing it, I started pressing his head against my cunt, moving my hips against his mouth too.

—Don’t stop —I begged, and for the first time all night my voice came out steady—. Oh, don’t stop, like that, like that, keep sucking…

He didn’t stop. He slid in a third finger and curled them inside me, searching for a spot I didn’t even know existed, while his tongue gave me no respite. Pleasure rose in one straight line until my breath caught and my whole body jolted against his mouth. I came with a cry I tried to muffle with my hand, soaking his face and fingers, my legs closing on their own around his head. I stayed there trembling, one hand over my eyes, not fully understanding how I’d gotten there.

He stood up, his mouth and beard shining with my wetness, and licked his lips without taking his eyes off me.

—Tasty —he said, running the back of his hand over his mouth.

***

Damián took off the rest of his clothes. I’m not going to pretend I didn’t look; I looked, and I went dry-mouthed. He was hard, thick, the tip swollen and a vein standing out underneath. He noticed me looking and smiled crookedly.

—You like it? Come here, touch it.

I knelt at the edge of the bed and took his cock in one hand. It felt hot, heavy, throbbing against my palm. I don’t know where the impulse came from, but I brought it to my mouth. First the tip, sucking it slowly, then deeper, as far as I could take it. He let out a low groan and gathered my hair into a fist so he could watch better.

—Like that, like that, suck it all… uh, fuck, you give good head.

I ran my tongue underneath, over his balls, and came back up. He set the rhythm with his hand at the back of my neck, not rushing me too much, letting me play. I, who had never considered myself especially slutty, found myself looking up at him from below with his cock filling my mouth, enjoying the way his face tightened.

—Wait, wait, I’m gonna cum —he said, pulling my hair to separate me from him—. Not yet.

He threw me onto my back on the bed and climbed on top of me. Before anything else, he kissed me deeply, and I tasted the strange flavor of myself mixed with him, as if he wanted me to stay inside what we were doing and not outside, judging it. He took a condom from the drawer, rolled it on with one hand, and opened my legs with his knee.

—Ready, beautiful —he murmured, and set the tip at the entrance to my cunt, rubbing it a little, wetting it.

When he entered in one long, firm thrust, I let out a howl. I felt him fill me completely, hit bottom. I went breathless for a second, adjusting, and he stayed still inside me, looking at me.

—Damn, you’re so tight… —he panted against my mouth.

We did it like that at first, face to face, him on top, watching me. He started moving slowly, pulling almost all the way out and then pushing back in to the hilt, each thrust harder than the last. I dug my nails into his back and wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him toward me. He kept a rhythm that built and built, attentive to every gesture I made, alternating deep thrusts with short strokes that punished my clit with his pelvis.

The ceiling mirror reflected an image I didn’t recognize: me, open and surrendered, my tits bouncing with the rhythm of the pounding, my cunt swallowing the cock of a stranger in a short-stay hotel, a guy who three hours earlier hadn’t existed in my life.

—Look at yourself —he said, following my eyes upward—. Look at what you’re like. Look at how I’m fucking you.

I was a little embarrassed and hugely turned on at the same time. Seeing myself like that, as if I were someone else, finished lighting me up. We changed positions; I got on top and took control for a while, riding him, his firm hands on my hips guiding me, his eyes never leaving me or my bouncing tits. I leaned forward so he could suck them while I rode him, and I felt his cock swell even more inside me.

—Like that, fuck me yourself, come on, you’re a divine little slut —he told me in my ear, and instead of offending me it made me press harder against him.

He flipped me over onto my stomach, lifted my hips with both hands, and fucked me from behind again, on all fours. That angle hit me differently, deeper, and every thrust pulled a moan from me that I no longer cared to let out. He grabbed my hair and pulled my head back without hurting me, fucking me like he was taming me.

—You like it like this, dirty girl? —he asked, slapping my ass hard enough to make me jolt—. Tell me you like it.

—I like it, I like it, don’t stop, give me more, give me all of it…

Then he put me against the wall, one leg raised and hooked over his hip, and after that there was no more conversation, just bodies and ragged breathing, the wet sound of our sex slapping together and the sound of the rain still falling outside. He drove into me with short, furious thrusts, biting my neck, and I felt another orgasm rising from the depths of my belly.

I came again before he did, clenching around him in spasms I couldn’t control, and then I felt him finish with a deep groan against my neck, thrusting all the way in, staying still inside me as he emptied himself. We collapsed on the bed on top of each other, sweaty, laughing without really knowing why.

***

I thought that was the end. But after a while, while he was stroking my back with the tips of his fingers, Damián slid his hand lower than my waist, caressed one ass cheek, and parted me slightly, stopping there.

—You’ve never done this, have you? —he asked softly, with his fingertip right at the edge of my ass.

I tensed up. I understood right away what he meant.

—No. And I don’t know if I want to. They say it hurts.

—It hurts if it’s done wrong and fast —he replied, not pressing, his voice calm—. If you go slowly, no. Do you trust me tonight?

It was a strange question to ask a stranger. The absurd thing was that, after everything before, I said yes with the slightest nod.

He was truly patient. He found the lubricant in the drawer, warned me at every step, gave me time. He put me face down first, with a pillow under my hips to lift my ass, and squirted a stream of cold lubricant between my cheeks that made me flinch. He started with his hand, slowly, one finger at a time, resting the fingertip and pressing little by little, paying attention to when I tensed and when I relaxed, in no rush to move forward. When the first finger slid all the way in, he held still, moving it in tiny circles until I started breathing again.

—Take a deep breath. Let go. If it really hurts, we stop, that’s all.

—Don’t stop yet —I heard myself say, my face buried in the pillow.

He added a second finger, with more lubricant, and this time the sensation was more strange than painful. He was stretching me, filling a place where I’d never had anything before. With his other hand he put two fingers in my cunt at the same time, and the double sensation made me moan into the fabric.

—See how nice it can be? —he murmured, moving both hands in coordination.

When he decided to move on to his cock, he put on another condom and added even more lubricant. He positioned himself behind me and carefully placed the tip at my entrance. He started pushing little by little, centimeter by centimeter, stopping every time I complained, waiting for my body to open on its own. The first instant was unpleasant, it burned, I felt as if I were being split open. I held my breath.

—Let go, let go, don’t tense up… there you go, very good.

When the head went all the way in, he stayed still for a long while, one hand on my hip and the other around to the front, teasing my clit to distract me. After the discomfort, a strange pressure started up that, to my own surprise, began to feel good. He eased in the rest little by little until I felt him all the way inside, pressed against my ass.

—That’s all in —he said, kissing the nape of my neck—. Tell me when you want me to move.

I waited a few seconds and pushed my hips back. He understood and started moving slowly, in a short back-and-forth, while still massaging my clit with two fingers. At first it was all new, almost foreign; then I realized that each thrust sent a wave through my whole body, unlike anything before. I started moving my ass against him, wanting more.

—Well, look at the lady who didn’t want to —he laughed softly, picking up the pace just a little—. Look how much you like it now that someone’s fucking you in the ass.

I didn’t answer with words, only with a long moan. He took me to the edge with his fingers in my cunt while his cock went in and out of my ass little by little. I came for the third time that night, in a way different from all the others, a strange orgasm that rose from very deep inside and made me tremble all over. I felt him finish a second later, burying himself to the hilt and wrapping me from behind with a muffled groan.

He stayed inside me for a while, pulsing in me, until he carefully slipped out. We lay still for a long time without speaking, listening as the rain faded until it became a soft dripping at the window.

***

—I should go —I said at last, when there was no more storm to use as an excuse.

—Stay a little longer —he asked, but without insisting.

I stayed a little longer. Then I got dressed slowly, my clothes still damp and wrinkled, my legs weak, still feeling the cum and the lubricant and everything that had happened between my legs. Before opening the door, I turned back.

—That was crazy —I admitted—. I don’t even know how I ended up here.

He smiled from the bed, not moving, his cock still half-soft on his thigh.

—If you ever want to repeat the crazy part, you know where to find me.

I didn’t give him my number or ask for his. I stepped out into the hall and the cool air hit my face. The city was calm, washed clean, as if the storm had never existed. I walked toward the bus stop with a smile I couldn’t seem to wipe off my face and legs that could barely carry me, feeling my cunt and ass throbbing with every step.

I never told anyone about this. Not my friends, not the boyfriends who came after. It’s the only time in my life I let myself go like that, with a stranger, knowing nothing about him except his name. Sometimes, when it rains hard over Córdoba, I remember and wonder if it was real. And between my legs, even now, something tells me it was.