My Ex-Player’s Girlfriend Recognized Me at the Bar

They say that lockdown changed us all, something I doubt, but what is true is that it left some strange stories behind. Just before the world shut down, I was coaching an amateur futsal team. I was forty-one and, after spending half my life on the court as a player, I had taken charge of the bench with the idea of getting the club out of the regional leagues. The squad wasn’t much to write home about, but the boys gave it their all.

We went months without seeing one another. When we could finally play again, each of us had endured lockdown in his own way. The one who surprised us most was Aníbal, my pivot, a thirty-six-year-old veteran with more experience than talent. He showed up at the first training session telling us he’d gotten himself an online girlfriend, a Bolivian girl six years younger than him.

For weeks he drove us crazy with his long-distance romance. His teammates laughed and made crude jokes about how the poor girl was going to be disappointed when she met him in person. Aníbal took it in good humor and swore that nobody had ever complained about his dick. The favorite target of those comparisons was Bruno, a twenty-four-year-old kid whom nature had been especially generous to between the legs, and who turned bright red every time the subject came up in the locker room.

Finally, six months later, the girl landed in Spain to move in with him. Her name was Yanira, and Aníbal brought her to the first home game. She wasn’t bad-looking at all. She was a short woman with very dark skin, black hair falling to the middle of her back, and a figure that drew attention without her having to try. She had Andean features that gave her a beauty different from that of the girls around here. She stood right behind our bench and, a little lost, cheered for the team regardless of the score. She always greeted me shyly, with a smile.

Before the season ended, Aníbal announced that Yanira was pregnant. His teammates congratulated him and, of course, the bad-taste jokes began about who the real father was. Bruno was dying of embarrassment whenever they pointed at him. When the baby was born, Yanira stopped coming to the games and the team’s life went on.

***

Things went sour a year later. Aníbal left Yanira for a Venezuelan woman older than him whom he had met at a Latin club, and shortly afterward he hung up his boots. Nobody in the locker room missed him. I had completely forgotten all about it until chance brought us together again one night.

It was a Friday, at one of those team dinners that end with rounds of drinks. After wandering around several places, we wound up in a packed club, with people of all ages and Latin music blasting at full volume. Well into the early hours, while I waited at the bar to be served, I ran into her. I hadn’t seen her since that last game, before the pregnancy.

Yanira had recovered from giving birth better than I remembered. She was a little thinner, with a more defined figure, her tits pressed against a black top and her pert ass stuffed into jeans that looked painted on. She dressed much more fashionably and confidently than the shy girl I remembered. She was the one who approached me.

“Hello, Coach. Don’t you remember me?” she said, tilting her head.

“Hi, Yanira. Of course I remember you. How are you?”

I bought her a drink and we caught up. The alcohol made the conversation flow by itself, amid laughter and confidences. It had been a long time since I’d felt that way with anyone. One thing led to another and we ended up dancing. And boy, did she know how to move. With every chorus she came a little closer, until she ended up turning her back to me, lifting her hair with both hands and rubbing her ass against my cock to the rhythm of the music. I was already hard, and she noticed perfectly well, because she pressed even harder and gave a quiet laugh, rolling her hips against my bulge.

I didn’t take long to react. I put my hands on her waist, pulled her against me, and kissed her neck, sucking it until I left a mark. She threw her head back, resting it on my shoulder, and let out a sigh that was swallowed by the music. I slid one hand down her belly until I brushed her crotch through her jeans, and she spread her legs a little to let me, biting her lip.

“Let’s get out of here,” she whispered in my ear. “My pussy’s getting wet.”

***

There was no way that could end anywhere but her place. I drove with Yanira nibbling at my neck and one of her hands between my legs, squeezing my cock through my trousers all the way to the reddish-brick housing complex on the outskirts. We climbed the stairs in the dark, kissing on every landing, up to the third floor. On the second, I pinned her against the wall, slipped my hand beneath her top, and pinched one of her nipples; she let out a sharp gasp and sought my mouth with her tongue. Somewhat nervously, she searched for her keys in her purse while I held her hips and whispered in her ear, telling her everything I was going to do to her. Without turning on a single light, she led me to her bedroom and closed the door.

We undressed without stopping our kisses. Yanira had a spectacular body, with tits that weren’t very large but were firm, their nipples so dark they were almost black, hardened by arousal. In the half-light, her brown skin contrasted with the pale sheets. Her pussy, when I pulled her thong down her thighs, was a dark pussy, almost hairless, its lips already swollen and gleaming with wetness. And in bed she turned out to be another woman: she let me take the lead, submissive, almost begging me to direct her.

I lay her on her back and positioned myself over her, my trousers still on. I kissed her mouth and began to move down slowly, tracing her neck, stopping at her tits to suck her nipples one by one until I made her moan, nibbling them while she dug her fingers into the nape of my neck. I kept descending, licking her belly, her hip bone, the insides of her thighs, until I settled between her legs. I opened her pussy with two fingers and looked at it for a few seconds, and when I touched her with my tongue, she arched her back and clutched my hair with both hands.

“That’s it, daddy, just like that,” she panted. “Eat my pussy. Don’t stop.”

I didn’t stop. I ran my whole tongue from bottom to top, pausing at her clitoris, sucking it with my lips as if it were candy, circling around it and attacking it again. I slipped two fingers inside her and began moving them, searching for the spot I knew would drive her crazy, while I kept sucking up top. Yanira started swearing the moment I hit it; she moved her hips against my face, fucking my mouth, with such shamelessness that I hardly recognized her. I held her hips so she couldn’t get away and continued until I felt her trembling all over, squeezing her thighs against my ears and letting out a long, filthy moan that broke the silence of the apartment. She came, soaking my chin.

Then she sat up, pushed me against the headboard, and finished undressing me with eager hands. A nervous little laugh escaped her when she pulled down my underwear and my cock sprang free, hard, the swollen head crowned by a thick drop welling at the tip.

“Oh, Coach, you’ve been keeping that little thing hidden from me,” she murmured, gripping it at the base.

She looked me in the eyes, opened her mouth, and took it all in at once, without pause, until I felt it hit the back of her throat. She started sucking me with an enthusiasm I hadn’t expected, never taking her eyes off me. She bobbed her head slowly, sucking hard as she came up, leaving a strand of saliva hanging from me; then she pulled my cock out, rubbed it over her face and tits, licked my balls one by one, taking them into her mouth, and swallowed me to the root again. I held out as long as I could, gritting my teeth, but I didn’t want to finish that way.

“Come here,” I said, gently tugging her arm.

I lay her down again, and she spread her legs wide, offering me her pussy in an image that stayed burned into my mind: her lips open and gleaming, her hole contracting on its own with desire. I put on a condom with clumsy hands and settled over her. I ran the head of my cock along her slit, rubbing it against her clitoris, torturing her, until she begged me to put it in. I penetrated her with one thrust, all the way to the base. She screamed when she felt me inside and dug her nails into my shoulders, arching her whole body.

“Oh God, it’s so big, daddy, so big!”

With every movement of my hips she answered with a moan, whispering dirty words into my ear, telling me how full I had her, how well I was fucking her. At first I thrust slowly, letting her feel every inch, and then I began to speed up, with hard, dry strokes that made her tits tremble and drew an “ah” from her each time.

“Oh, you really know what you’re doing,” she panted against my ear. “Fuck me harder. Don’t be gentle with me.”

I lifted both her legs and draped them over my shoulders, folding her in half, and in that position my cock reached somewhere it hadn’t touched before. Yanira began to moan higher and higher, mouth open, watching me fuck her, and a few minutes later she came again, squeezing my cock with her pussy like a fist. I changed positions, put her on her side, lifted one leg, and entered her again, continuing without pause while I sucked one of her nipples, until she came a third time, proving that her body was capable of much more than a single orgasm. I held her tightly, leaving her breathless, until I came too, unloading into the condom with a growl that rose from the deepest part of me, thrusting hard three or four more times as I emptied myself. We stayed joined for a few seconds, catching our breath, kissing slowly, my cock still inside her and pulsing.

***

We spent a long while caressing each other in the half-light, without rushing, until little by little desire began to awaken again. My fingers played over her back, moving lower and lower, following the cleft of her ass, and instead of stopping me, she took my hand, brought my fingers to her mouth, sucked them thoroughly wet, then guided them back and placed them right against her asshole.

“Are you up for it?” she murmured, looking at me over her shoulder with a crooked smile.

I smiled at her. She turned around and got on all fours, arching her back and spreading her buttocks with both hands, offering me both holes without shame.

“You’re quite a man,” she said. “Put it in my ass. Do whatever you want with me.”

I knelt behind her and took things slowly. I spat on her asshole and slipped in one finger first, moving it slowly in circles, then two, until I felt her relax. I ran my tongue over her ass, licking it thoroughly and coating it with saliva, while I rubbed her clitoris with my other hand. I put on another condom, soaked it in saliva, and pressed the head against her hole. I pushed slowly, and she cried out when the crown forced its way in, but between pants she begged me not to even think of stopping. I entered little by little, millimeter by millimeter, giving her time, feeling her ass squeeze my cock like nothing ever had before, until her ragged breathing turned into something resembling pleasure. Then she began asking for more, spouting obscenities, challenging me not to hold back.

“That’s it, wreck my ass, give me everything,” she panted, thrusting her hips back against me. “All the way in, daddy. Don’t hold anything back.”

I held her hips with both hands and quickened the pace, pounding her into the bed with increasingly forceful thrusts, watching my cock disappear completely into her ass and come back out. Yanira slipped her fingers into her pussy and began masturbating while I fucked her from behind, and a few minutes later she came again, biting the pillow so she wouldn’t wake half the house. That final squeeze finished me off, and I unloaded inside her with a brutal thrust, gripping her by the hair and clenching my teeth until the last drop ran down my cock. Yanira collapsed facedown on the bed, her ass still raised, exhausted and satisfied, while I lay beside her with my heart racing.

***

I spent the night in her bed. The next morning I woke with her pressed against my back, her hand on my already-hard cock, and her desire still intact. I turned around, kissed her neck, and caressed her tits until she began sighing again, pinching her dark nipples until they were hard as rocks. I lowered my hand and found her pussy wet once more. I whispered in her ear that I had to go home, but that I wanted a proper goodbye. She smiled, pushed the sheets aside, and knelt in front of me at the edge of the bed.

She sucked me slowly, without rushing, looking into my eyes the entire time, taking me to the back of her throat and drawing me out slowly, sucking the head with a wet noise each time. She spat into her hand and masturbated the base while sucking the tip, then pulled my cock out and licked my balls, running her tongue underneath all the way to the tip like someone licking an ice cream. When she noticed I was about to come, she sped up, sealed her lips tightly around me, and began pumping the head without stopping. I came in her mouth with two or three thrusts, gripping her hair, and she swallowed everything without letting go of my cock, squeezing out every last drop, then pulled me out, opened her mouth to show me she hadn’t left anything behind, and took me back in to suck me clean. Without a single complaint, never taking her eyes off me.

I dressed in silence and left her tangled among the sheets so she could keep sleeping. I crossed the hall toward the exit and was stunned when I passed through the living room. An older woman was sitting at the table, eating breakfast in a robe. She looked exactly like Yanira, thirty years later.

I had no idea her mother lived with her. Without a doubt, she had heard us all night, down to the last sigh. Out of sheer courtesy, and dead with embarrassment, I wished her good morning. She answered softly, bringing one hand to her face, I don’t know whether embarrassed by what her daughter had been doing or by having stayed to listen without hiding. I only wanted to disappear.

Suddenly she stood up, left her cup on the table, and headed toward one of the bedrooms at the back, where Yanira’s son was sleeping. Before closing the door, I heard her say, without turning around:

“I’m going to wake Mateo. That boy is such a deep sleeper.”