My Former Boss’s Wife Was Waiting for Me in the Parking Garage
Ever since I retired, my life had taken a turn I never expected. My head felt clear, the stress of three decades had evaporated overnight, and I started enjoying even the most insignificant things: a quiet coffee, a morning without an alarm, a walk with no destination.
But the strangest change, the one I couldn’t even explain myself, had happened to my body. It was as if I’d gone back twenty years. I returned to the gym with a consistency I’d never had, recovered an energy I’d considered buried for good, and my wife, Nuria, seemed to have caught the same appetite. Not a day went by without us ending up fucking in bed, on the sofa, or wherever we happened to be, with a fever neither of us remembered since we were twenty.
Over the years we’d learned not to impose silly limits on ourselves. We had our encounters with Pilar, a lifelong friend who loved having me fuck her in front of Nuria while the two of them ate each other’s pussies, and the occasional night with her partner, when all four of us ended up tangled together, switching mouths and cocks without keeping count. Nothing to be ashamed of: two adult couples who understood each other without recriminations or drama. Nuria enjoyed sucking another cock while I fucked her from behind more than anything, and I enjoyed watching her enjoy it, watching her come with her mouth full.
The only thing I missed was Irene.
Fucking my boss’s wife just before I retired had left me with a taste that wouldn’t go away.
It had happened on a trip to Valencia, almost without planning it, one of those things that happen when two people have spent too long looking at each other from the corners of their eyes. Since then we’d barely spoken. The occasional phone call, messages that ended halfway through. In a small town like ours, she lived in constant fear that someone would connect the dots. Nuria encouraged me not to lose hope, but I felt the whole thing fading away on its own.
***
We’d had an intense week. Wednesday afternoon we spent with Pilar; on Friday, Nuria had arranged to meet her gym friends for a drink and to catch up on the town gossip. We filled the rest of the days in our own way, without warning, stealing little gaps of time.
That Friday I had the afternoon to myself. I had no plans at all, so I got in the car and went to the shopping center to browse, more to kill time than to buy anything. I went down to the underground parking garage, the one with its cold lights and low ceiling, and while I was looking for a spot in a secluded corner, I recognized a car.
It was Irene’s.
My heart gave an absurd, adolescent lurch. I parked right beside it, with the foolish hope that she might be alone and that I’d run into her, even if only for a minute. I went upstairs, walked through the aisles, looking from side to side, and saw her before she saw me.
She looked gorgeous, as always. For those who don’t know her: tall, thirty-eight years old, blonde hair, light eyes, and a figure that stopped traffic. She pushed a small cart, scanning the shelves with the elegant calm she brought even to the most mundane things. She wore a black pantsuit, an immaculate white blouse that hinted at large, firm breasts beneath the fabric, and heels that made her walk as if she were floating, accentuating an upturned ass that burned itself onto my retina.
I watched her for a while without daring to approach, mentally going over what to say, until she looked up and spotted me. There was no feigned surprise. Just a slow smile and a change in her eyes that said everything.
In that instant I remembered Valencia in a detail that surprised even me: the way she had tied her hair up that night before kneeling and pulling my cock out of my trousers, the way she had let her heels drop to the floor of the room while I licked her pussy until I made her come twice in a row, how long it had taken us to move from words to action, and then how well I’d fucked her until dawn—face down, on all fours, on top. I’d spent a month reliving it in silence, jerking off while thinking about the way her pussy clenched when she came, and seeing her now, among shelves and shopping carts, made everything feel more unreal and more urgent at the same time. I was getting hard just looking at her.
She came over.
“Well, look who’s here,” she said, giving me two kisses.
Her perfume hit me like it had the first time. I was tongue-tied, she was nervous; what a pair of idiots. We talked about the usual things: the children, our partners, the boredom of the town, the things people say when what they really want to say is something entirely different.
“I miss you,” I finally blurted out, without thinking too much.
She held my gaze for a second longer than was proper.
“If you only knew how much I need to have you close,” she murmured, lowering her voice. “What I really need. I’ve spent a month falling asleep touching myself while thinking about your cock.”
Nothing else was necessary.
“My car’s next to yours, in the corner at the back,” I told her. “I’ll wait for you there.”
Irene went straight to the checkout to pay for the few things in her cart. I went down first, my pulse racing, feeling ridiculous and alive in equal measure, my cock already pressing tight against my fly.
***
My car is a minivan with tinted windows, and I’d left it in a corner where barely any light reached. I moved into the back seats and waited, listening to my own heartbeat. A minute later I saw her appear between the pillars, put the bags in her trunk, and look both ways before opening my door and slipping inside.
There were no preliminaries. There was no time, and neither of us wanted to waste it. As soon as she shut the door, we went for each other’s mouths with an urgency that had been building for a month. I devoured her lips, thrust my tongue deep inside, and she sucked on it with the same hunger. I yanked off her jacket; she wrestled with the buttons of her own blouse until one flew off, while I fumbled with my belt. We stripped each other in fits and starts in that tiny space, laughing under our breath at how clumsy we were.
I freed her tits from her bra and couldn’t wait any longer. I grabbed them with both hands, big and white, their stiff pink nipples pointing upward, and put them in my mouth one after the other, sucking them hard and nibbling them until I drew a moan from her.
“Fuck, you turn me on,” she whispered, throwing her head back. “You turn me on so much, you bastard.”
She pulled down my trousers and underwear in one motion and took out my cock. It was hard as a rock, throbbing, the head already wet. She licked her lips when she saw it. She didn’t last a second: she crouched as best she could in the gap between the seats and took it all into her mouth, right down to the base, sucking so hard I almost came right there.
“Wait, wait,” I begged, grabbing her by the hair. “You’re going to make me come.”
But Irene didn’t stop. She sucked my cock with her eyes closed, moving up and down, letting a thread of saliva run down her chin, playing her tongue over the head, taking my balls into her mouth one after the other. She sucked cock as if she’d been starving for weeks, as if it were the only thing she’d wanted for an entire month. I looked down at her, that blonde hair swaying over my crotch, and could hardly believe that the immaculate woman from the aisles was the same hot slut sucking my cock in a parking garage.
I pulled her away before it was too late and returned the favor. I pushed her against the seat, ripped off her trousers and panties—black lace, soaked through—and spread her legs as far as that damned car allowed. Her pussy was a beauty: shaved, pink, glistening, with swollen, open lips. I ran my tongue from bottom to top, very slowly, savoring all the juices already streaming from her.
“Oh God,” she gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. “Oh God, don’t stop.”
I didn’t stop. I thrust my tongue inside her, sucked her clit, nibbled it with my lips while I put two fingers inside her and curled them, searching for her sweet spot. She writhed, squeezed her thighs against my face, and pulled my hair. Within a minute I felt her pussy tighten around my fingers, and she came in a long spasm, biting the back of her hand to keep from screaming.
“Put it in me now,” she begged in a hoarse voice, without giving herself a moment’s rest. “Put it in me, please, I can’t take it anymore.”
I sat down on the seat and she climbed on top, one knee on either side of my hips. I felt the heat of her skin even before we were fully touching. She kissed my neck and jaw, and I ran my hands over her back until I buried them in her ass, squeezing it and pulling it apart.
“Slowly,” I asked, even though neither of us wanted to go slowly.
She gripped my cock, ran it a couple of times over her pussy lips to coat it thoroughly, and sat down on it, impaling herself inch by inch until I was buried deep. She let out the air in a restrained sigh, her forehead resting against mine. She stayed still for a moment, getting used to having all of me inside her, and then she began to move.
She rode me with a deep rhythm, unhurried at first, gripping my shoulders, rising and falling so that I almost slid out to the tip before she sank back down to my balls. I held her hips, setting the pace, pulling her down with every descent, feeling her pussy squeeze me, wet and hot, sloshing with every thrust. I sucked her tits again and heard her bite her lips to keep quiet. The parking garage was empty, but the thought that anyone might pass by and see us—her impaled on me, riding me like a bitch in heat—kept us both on an edge that made everything more intense.
“You can’t imagine how many times I thought about this,” she told me in my ear, never stopping her movements. “How many times I fingered myself thinking about your cock.”
Every one of her movements hit me like an electric shock. I felt her hot and tense at once, setting a rhythm that rose little by little, letting the pressure build between us. I brushed a lock of hair from her face so I could see her better, and she parted her lips without making a sound, holding herself back, which made every gesture more electric. The brush of her skin against mine, the heat trapped inside that vehicle, the smell of pussy and sweat, the obscene sloshing of my cock entering and leaving her—all of it formed something unlike anything we’d experienced in Valencia.
I grabbed her by the waist and turned her around. I put her on all fours across the back bench, her ass pointing toward me and her face pressed against the headrest. That position in the minivan’s cramped interior was awkward, but I needed to fuck her like that, to watch her ass while I drove into her. I spread her cheeks with my thumbs, ran the tip along her cleft, and shoved it back inside her with a hard thrust that made her let out a muffled cry.
“Yes, like that, fuck, like that,” she moaned, arching her back. “Fuck me, give it to me hard.”
I grabbed her hips and began pounding her without mercy, slapping her buttocks so the sound reverberated inside the car. I watched her ass ripple with every blow, her back arched, her blonde hair falling over the leather seat. I leaned over her, reached around in front, and found her clitoris with my fingers while I kept fucking her from behind. She pushed back to meet me, moaning with every thrust, her breathing ragged.
“Harder, harder, don’t stop,” she repeated, biting the headrest to keep from screaming.
The car rocked with us, the windows began to fog over completely, and that dark corner became the only place in the world. I fucked her pussy with all the rage I’d accumulated over a month, and she begged for more, always more.
I turned her around again. I wanted her looking into my eyes when she came again. I sat her astride me and held her tightly, pressing her tits against my chest, and she picked up the rhythm with even greater urgency, riding me while rubbing her clit against my pubic bone on every downward stroke.
I felt her tense suddenly. Her whole body trembled, she clung to me, digging her nails into my back, and buried a muffled moan in my shoulder. Her pussy closed around my cock like a fist, pulsing and squeezing me so tightly that it took all my effort not to let go right there.
“There, don’t stop,” she whispered. “Don’t stop, keep going.”
She was the one who didn’t stop, rather. Far from slowing down, she moved harder, searching for something more and dragging me along with her. I was so comfortable, so lost in her heat and scent, that I wasn’t in a hurry to finish. But Irene gave me no respite.
“Give it to me,” she begged, her voice broken. “I want to feel it. Come inside me, I want to feel all of you inside.”
She was the one who pushed me over the edge. I gripped her ass with both hands, held her firmly against me, and thrust upward, burying myself as deeply as I could, once, twice, three times, until an orgasm shook me in a way I hadn’t remembered. I came in streams inside her, long and overflowing, feeling every spurt fill her, while she trembled on top of me, breathing raggedly, eyes closed, moaning as she felt the heat of my cum flood her pussy.
We stayed still, embracing and listening to each other breathe, my cock still inside her, wet and throbbing. The car smelled of us, of skin, semen, and desire.
“I’m crazy,” she kept repeating softly, with a smile that contradicted her. “I’m completely crazy.”
***
It took us a while to separate. She sat up, and as she did, she felt the semen leaking from her pussy and running down her thigh. She looked for something to clean herself with, and I handed her some tissues from the glove compartment. She cleaned herself carefully, between her lips and inside, biting back a smile. She began dressing hurriedly, alert to every sound, checking that she hadn’t left a trace on the seat or stains on the floor mat. She was the immaculate woman from the aisles again, straightening her blouse—a button had gone missing between the seats—and running her fingers through her hair.
“I have to leave before someone sees me getting out of here,” she said.
She gave me one last kiss, slow and different from the ones before. One of those kisses that leave more questions than answers. Then she opened the door, looked both ways, and vanished between the pillars with the same elegance with which she had arrived, my cum still inside her.
I stayed alone for a few minutes, regaining my senses, her perfume still clinging to my clothes and the smell of sex on my hands. When I finally got dressed and started the engine, I called Nuria.
“How was your afternoon?” she asked.
I told her what had happened, without embellishment. How Irene had sucked me, how I’d eaten her pussy, how she’d come twice while riding me, and how I’d put her on all fours at the end. There was a brief silence on the other end, and then she laughed softly, with that throaty laugh she let out when she got horny.
“I knew it would happen as soon as you saw each other again,” she said, without a trace of reproach. “Come home. I want you to tell me all about it, and I want you to do it to me again with the cock that was just inside her.”
I drove home with a smile too big for my face and my cock already beginning to wake up again. Sometimes life, when you think it’s already given you everything, still keeps a surprise hidden in the darkest corner of a parking garage.
