I Woke Up Naked Beside Her, Not Remembering the Night

The rough brush of the sheet against my naked skin dragged me out of the darkness. A hoarse sound escaped my throat before I could open my eyes. My head throbbed with a dull buzzing, a slow drum beating at my temples. I tried to move and discovered a warm weight resting against my side. It wasn’t a pillow.

I opened my eyelids all the way. The ceiling of my room spun for an instant before settling still. I turned my neck slowly, hearing it crack, and then I saw her.

Mariana.

She was beside me, also naked, her body a soft curve beneath the gray light coming in through the blinds. Her brown hair spilled over the pillow in waves, framing a face that, even asleep, kept something untamed. Mariana? Here? Why don’t I remember anything? There was a black hole in my memory, an emptiness that had swallowed the last hours of the night.

My eyes traveled down her body: the line of her hip, her barely rounded belly, her breasts rising and falling with each slow breath. A shiver ran through me that had nothing to do with cold. Something in me, still sleepy and soft, began to wake up.

She stirred. A short sigh slipped from between her parted lips. Her honey-colored eyes opened slowly, blinking with the same confusion I felt. She looked at me. One arched brow, a question she never got around to asking. There was no surprise on her face, only curiosity mixed with something hungrier.

The silence in the room was thick, charged with questions neither of us asked. The tension grew with every passing second. A spark of mischief lit up the depths of her eyes.

She moved in suddenly. The motion was fluid, almost feline, and before I could process it her mouth was on mine. It wasn’t a tender kiss or an exploratory one. It was a declaration. She sucked on my lower lip, her hot tongue sought mine with a taste of the alcohol from the lost night. My hands rose on their own to her waist and pulled her closer, feeling the softness of her skin against mine.

As she kissed me, one of her hands slid down my thigh. Her touch was light at first, barely a caress. Then it grew firm, deliberate. Her palm wrapped around me, already hard, and squeezed with a confidence that tore a muffled groan from me. She swallowed it with her mouth and deepened the kiss.

Her fingers began to move in a slow, expert rhythm: the base, the shaft, a pressure that made me swell even more beneath her hand. Pleasure ran through me like a jolt, gathering between my legs. When she broke from my mouth, air rushed into my lungs in one gasp.

“You don’t remember anything, do you?” Her voice was a rough whisper, loaded with playful malice.

I shook my head, unable to form words, hypnotized by the way her hand kept working.

“It doesn’t matter,” she went on, her smile widening. “The only thing that matters is what’s happening now.”

And then she moved. Her body slid down mine, her breasts brushing my abdomen, her hard nipples leaving a trail of heat in their wake. I followed every movement with ragged breath. She tilted her head, her hair grazed my skin, and a sigh escaped me when I felt the heat of her mouth.

Her tongue, soft and wet, traced the tip, and a jolt of pleasure shot up through me. Then I felt the full thing: the enveloping heat, the pressure, a skill that left me breathless. Her cheeks hollowed every time she took me deeper, her velvet tongue moving up and down.

“Just like that…” I moaned, fingers tangled in her hair, tugging lightly.

She answered with a guttural sound that echoed between my legs. Her hands clutched my thighs, pushing farther down, taking me as far as she could. The motion was rhythmic, and the pleasure was so intense my legs trembled. I heard the wet sound of her mouth, the air going in and out.

My hands slid down her back, following the curve of her spine until they stopped at the base. My fingers slipped between her buttocks, searching, until they found the wet heat between her legs. She was soaked, trembling. I felt for her entrance, the softness of her lips, while she moaned with her mouth still occupied.

“Ah… yes… more,” she murmured, almost unintelligibly.

My fingers slipped inside, finding her swollen clit beneath my thumb. I rubbed it with slow, circular motions while she kept doing her part. The contrast overwhelmed me: the heat of her mouth on one side, the wetness of my fingers on the other.

Suddenly she sat up, breaking away with a wet sound.

“Now you,” she panted, and before I could answer, she moved.

She straddled me with her back to me and lowered herself until she was resting over my mouth. The smell of sex, sweat, and herself flooded my senses.

“Eat me,” she ordered in an urgent murmur.

And I did. My tongue met her, licking, feeling the moisture spilling from her. The taste was salty and sweet at once, intoxicating. My hands grabbed her hips, lifting her a little for better access. My tongue rose to her clit, brushed it, sucked at it hungrily.

“Ohhh… Tomás…” she moaned, her hips moving frantically against my mouth.

My fingers, still inside her, pressed harder while my tongue focused on her clit, licking it, nibbling it lightly. She writhed over me, her moans growing sharper and sharper.

“Yes… like that… more…” she gasped, her whole body taut.

I pushed my fingers deeper, seeking that spot, pressing in rhythm. Her breathing turned erratic, her muscles tightened, and with a muffled cry she came. Her body arched, her thighs squeezed my head, and a wave of heat flooded my mouth. I swallowed it without hesitation.

The spasms subsided and her body softened over mine. She stayed like that for a moment, panting.

“Again,” she said, her voice rough. “I want more.”

She guided my head back between her legs. I didn’t have to think about it. I licked her again with the same devotion, my fingers working inside her once more, my tongue on her clit, driving her to the edge. The moans returned, louder, more urgent. Her hips moved of their own accord, searching for what I was giving her.

“Yes! I’m coming again!” she screamed, and her whole body tensed once more, another surge flooding me. This time stronger, longer. I savored her completely.

***

When the trembling stopped, she didn’t get up. She stayed seated astride my waist, with her back to me. I was still hard, throbbing between her buttocks. With a slow, deliberate motion she took me in one hand and guided me toward her.

I felt the tip press against her lips. She leaned back slightly and let me in, slow, soft. The heat and moisture wrapped around me, a tight, delicious sensation.

“Mmm… ahhh…” she moaned, her hips rocking, adjusting to me.

The pleasure was exquisite. My hands climbed to her hips, guiding the movement. She reclined against my chest, opening her legs a little more, and I sank in deeper.

“Ohhh… that’s it…” she murmured, her voice turning into a gasp.

One of my hands moved up her back to her breasts. I squeezed them, feeling the firmness of her nipples under my thumbs. The other found her clit, swollen and sensitive, and I stroked it with rhythmic motions while she rode me, rising and falling with growing urgency.

“Ahhh… harder,” she panted, and her movements grew faster.

The sound of our bodies colliding filled the room: the slap of her ass against my pelvis, her moans, my own grunts. My fingers on her breasts, my thumbs on her clit, and she writhed, wanting more.

“I’m coming again!” she screamed, and her muscles clamped around me. A shiver ran through her entire body, her hips tightening against mine, squeezing out every drop of pleasure. Her moan turned into a long scream.

When the trembling eased, I moved her gently. She slid off me, still drenched. With a quick motion I turned her and laid her face down on the bed, her round buttocks lifting in invitation. I knelt behind her.

“Ready for more?” I whispered in her ear, my voice rough with desire.

She moaned, still trembling.

“Always,” she murmured into the pillow.

She opened her legs a little. I slid between her buttocks until I found her entrance and, with a slow, firm push, sank into her.

“Ahhh…” she sighed.

I felt her tight, hot, wrapping around me. Her muscles closed around me and I couldn’t hold back a groan. My hands settled on her hips, setting a slow rhythm that gradually grew faster, harder. The bed creaked under our weight.

“More! Harder!” she panted, her voice shaking.

And I gave her more. My thrusts became wild, plunging in again and again, filling her completely. With every push her clit brushed the base of my body, and that only lit her up more.

“Yes! Don’t stop!” she screamed, arching, her buttocks lifting toward me.

I changed her position again, this time on all fours at the edge of the bed, her hands gripping the mattress. I stood behind her. The angle was perfect. I entered her again, and she felt even wetter, tighter. I leaned in, hands on her hips, my thrusts deeper, more powerful.

“Ahhh… Tomás…” she moaned, her voice breaking.

While I drove into her, my thumb searched for the edge of her other entrance and pressed lightly. She tensed.

“Not there…” she murmured, almost inaudibly.

I slowed down. I looked at her over my shoulder.

“Are you sure?” I asked, waiting.

It took her a second. Then she arched her back and pushed back against my thumb.

“Slowly,” she asked, and that was all I needed to hear.

With a gentle motion, my thumb slid inside. Her muscles contracted around it, but the thrusts into her sex kept her on the edge, unable to speak. Pleasure and surprise mixed on her face. My thrusts grew faster, my thumb moving inside her as I kept pounding into her from behind.

“I’m coming! Ahhhhh!” she screamed, and her whole body clenched around me all at once. A torrent of heat spilled from her, squeezing me with incredible force.

I took advantage of the moment, with her muscles still loosened by the orgasm. I pulled my thumb out and slowly pressed the tip against that entrance. Mariana lifted herself a little.

“Slowly…” she repeated, holding her breath.

I pushed carefully. I felt a slight resistance and then a stretch. A gasp of surprise slipped from her.

“Ah…” she panted, her body tense.

I stopped, letting her get used to it. When her breathing steadied, I pushed a little more. The first instant of discomfort gave way to something else, a new, forbidden sensation that made her moan differently.

“Don’t stop…” she murmured, and this time her voice was asking for the exact opposite of before.

I began to move with a slow, deep rhythm. The sound was drier, more forceful. My hands clamped onto her hips, drawing her toward me, and the other climbed to her breasts, her nipples hard beneath my fingers.

“Ahhh… yes…” she moaned, her voice rising with each thrust.

Then her own hands came down, seeking herself, still sensitive from the previous orgasms. She began to caress herself while I stayed behind her. The sight of Mariana on all fours, taken by me and working herself at the same time, pushed me to the limit.

“Come for me!” I shouted, my voice ragged with desire.

She moaned, eyes shut, face tight with pleasure, her fingers moving with frantic urgency.

“Yes! I’m coming!” she screamed, and her body clenched one last time, her muscles closing around me with brutal force.

It was too much. A guttural groan rose from deep inside me, my whole body arched, and I felt the heat burst from me inside her. The combination of her tightening and my own orgasm was the most explosive of my life.

I stayed still for a moment, panting, still throbbing inside her. Mariana was still too, trembling, her hands still between her legs. Silence returned to the room, but this time filled with the echo of our cries, with the smell of sex and sweat hanging in the air.

Slowly, I slid out of her. Mariana collapsed onto the bed, her body spent, a satisfied smile spreading across her face. I sat beside her, breathing unevenly.

She turned her head to look at me, eyes shining, her hair stuck to her forehead with sweat.

“Ha…” she panted, still hoarse. “That was amazing.”

I leaned down and kissed her, this time soft, slow, savoring what remained on her lips.

“It was,” I murmured.

We stayed like that, in silence, our bodies entwined, the memory of what we had just done branded into us. I still couldn’t remember how we had ended up there, but at that moment it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was what we had shared. And the silent promise that there would be more.