My Partner Never Knew What Happened in That Garage

I’m telling it because I need to get it off my chest, not because I’m proud of it. Daniela had been living in my head for a week, ever since we sealed the plan in low voices beside the coffee machine, with her husband three meters away checking invoices. Her in a Pilates class that didn’t exist. My wife in her Thursday course. And the two of us, finally, with an hour free ahead of us. Maybe two.

—Does nine-thirty work for you? —she had asked me, pretending she was talking about some paperwork.

The perfect touch was hers. In front of Aníbal, she casually told him on the phone she’d stop by to drop off some documents and, since she was there, to pay part of the fees. Her husband, my partner for six years, said it was a bit late to be bothering me, but that was very kind, thanks a million.

If you knew what I’m planning to do to your wife, I don’t know whether you’d be thanking me. If you knew I’ve been imagining Daniela with her mouth open around my cock for six months, with her tits out on top of the table where we sign your contracts, with her cunt soaked from thinking about me so much, maybe you wouldn’t call me your partner.

From nine o’clock on, I couldn’t take my eyes off the clock. At nine-thirty sharp the office bell rang. I opened the door, she came in, and before I’d even closed it we were kissing against the wall in the lobby. A long kiss, the kind that’s been put off for too long, tongues from the first second, none of that polite testing-the-waters of first kisses. I slid my arms around her waist, moved my hands up to her bra, squeezed over her T-shirt and felt how hard her nipples were already. She laughed against my mouth.

—You’re a bad man —she whispered, as if we were still speaking formally.

We had five minutes. Five. Enough to heat us up to the point where there’s no easy way back. I slipped my hand under her T-shirt, yanked her bra up, and pinched one nipple between my fingers. She threw her head back, let out a gasp that bounced down the empty hallway, and reached for my free hand to bring it between her legs, over her pants. She was hot even through the fabric. Right then, some sharp knocks on a door down the hall froze us in place.

It wasn’t our door. It was the neighbor next door, heading into his office. But the scare was real, that bad conscience that runs up the back of your neck when you know you shouldn’t be doing what you’re doing.

—Relax —I told her—. It’s not here.

We went back to it with more laughs than urgency. She, getting bolder, put my hand over my pants and smiled when she felt how hard and unmistakable I was, running the length of my leg. She squeezed me through the fabric, traced me from top to bottom with two fingers, and let out a low “my God” that made my cock even stiffer. We looked like two kids hiding in the school basement, pawing at each other in the dark with our ears tuned to every noise, except I’d already slid my hand inside her pants, looking for the edge of her panties, and she was already unbuckling my belt without stopping her laughter.

And then her phone rang.

—Mom, when are you coming? —came a voice on the other end.

Her son. Daniela closed her eyes, made a resigned face, and gently moved my hand away, sliding it out of my pants with a care that was almost a promise.

—We’ll finish another day —she said, already straightening her clothes, adjusting her bra under her T-shirt with two quick motions.

I walked her to the elevator. And there, on the landing, while we waited, the idea hit me. A bad idea, one of those you don’t think with your head.

—Wait. I’ll show you where my spot is in the garage. That way next time you can park downstairs and come straight up, no wandering around.

A lie, of course. What I wanted was to steal a couple more minutes, away from prying ears. I couldn’t get her skin out of my mind, the weight of her body against mine, or the heat I’d felt between her legs through her pants. After six months of avoiding each other’s eyes at every meeting, the idea of saying goodbye with a handshake felt like a cruel joke.

***

The building garage has a dead zone, a bend behind the ramp where the motion sensor takes a while to pick up and shuts off almost at once if nobody moves. A narrow corridor, a little meter room, some stairs that come out onto the street through a side door. Risk of getting caught, yes, but you can hear footsteps from far away. Enough time to pull yourself together.

I knew it well. It’s not the first time I’ve used it, and that’s part of what I have to confess. But that night all I could think about was Daniela.

We went down the ramp talking about nothing. The moment we turned the corner, I pretended to look for the switch and let the light go out on its own.

—Well, damn —I said, with the amazement of a bad actor—. The power went out.

She laughed in the dark.

—You really are a bad man. Again.

I kissed her against the concrete wall, the cold against her back and me pressed to her front. I pushed her T-shirt up to her neck, yanked the cups of her bra down, and got her tits out right there in the garage. I licked one nipple and then the other, holding back the urge to bite too hard, and she dug her nails into my neck so I wouldn’t stop. While my mouth moved down her neck, my hand found its way between her legs, over the fabric. I pressed her cunt with my open palm and felt the heat even through her pants. Daniela panted and bit her lip so she wouldn’t make a sound.

She was as turned on as I was. I unbuttoned her pants, pulled the zipper down, and slid my hand inside her panties. She was soaked. My fingers slipped between the lips of her cunt without any effort, and when I found her clit and started stroking it with the pad of my middle finger, she let out a long moan I had to smother with a kiss. I slid in one finger, then two, and felt how her cunt tightened around them every time I curled them upward, hunting for that spot that drove her crazy. She rubbed herself against my hand, came looking for it instead of pulling away, and started breathing in that broken rhythm that means she’s losing control.

And then, suddenly, she shoved her hip to one side, pulling my hand away.

—Stop, stop… —she said very softly, holding my wrist—. It’s just that afterward I get so worked up I can’t stop. And not here, not like this. If I come, I’ll start screaming, and I can’t.

A few seconds to catch our breath. My fingers were soaked with her, gleaming in the dimness, and I brought them to my mouth without thinking. She laughed when she saw me.

—You’re filthy.

—You taste incredible.

And then the mouth again, but this time she took the lead. Her hand slid down my chest, over my stomach, to my belt.

—I want to see it —she whispered in my ear, and laughed at her own boldness.

I didn’t make her ask twice. With a skill that surprised me, she unfastened the button, pulled the zipper down, and pulled my cock out in one motion, gripping it at the root with her whole hand. I was so hard it almost hurt. She took out her phone, and for a moment I thought she was going to take a picture. But no: she only turned on the flashlight to look, to see what she had in her hands in the phone’s bluish light. She traced it slowly with her eyes, squeezing me gently, moving her fist once from base to tip, and I saw her lick her lips.

—What a cock you’ve got —she whispered, switching the flashlight off right away—. I only wanted to see you.

I thought, with a certain sadness, that I could have done the same. That I had this woman in front of me, the one who had driven me crazy for six months, and I still couldn’t see half of her. Maybe that was better. What you don’t see doesn’t torment you quite so much afterward. But I could still feel her tits bare against my shirt, and I knew what her cunt tasted like on the tip of my fingers, and that was already going to haunt me plenty.

—All right —she said suddenly, not letting go of my cock—. Let’s go.

—And you’re not going to say goodbye? —I said, half joking, half begging.

—Goodbye to what?

—You could give it a goodbye kiss.

More laughter. And again, “you really are bad.” But then she crouched down.

It was just one kiss, she said. It started as a brush, the tip of her tongue sliding slowly over my head, a nothing greeting. Then another, more deliberate, with her mouth open and her lips closing around the tip. And by the third she’d already forgotten the plan to leave. She took my cock all the way into her mouth, down to the throat, and drew it back out slowly, licking me from top to bottom with her tongue pressed to the head. She gripped my hips and pulled me toward her, slowly at first, then with hunger, as if she wanted to measure me, to know how far she could go. Her tongue circled under the corona, then she swallowed me whole again, and every time she came up she looked at me from below with a smile that was anything but innocent. I held her head with one hand, not forcing her, just following the rhythm.

—Fuck, Daniela —I blurted out—. You suck cock so well.

—Shut up and enjoy it —she replied, with my cock slipping out of her mouth for a second, and took me back in.

Now I was the one with my back against the wall, completely given over, swallowing every groan for fear of the garage echo. She kept at it, one firm hand at the base of my cock, keeping pace with her mouth, and the other slipped inside my pants, stroking my balls, squeezing them just enough. Every now and then she lifted her eyes to look at me through the dark, mouth full, and I could feel her swallowing around me. My cock slid in and out, gleaming, and she sucked it with a shamelessness that didn’t match the polite woman who sat in meetings.

—Stop —I said, with no conviction at all—. I’m going to come.

She shook her head without stopping. She even sped up, setting the rhythm with her hand from top to bottom while she sucked me, and I felt the climax rising from my balls with no way to stop it. When I was already on the edge, out of control, she let go just long enough to tell me, in a rough voice, rubbing against me and with my wet cock brushing her lips:

—And what’s so bad about that? Come in my mouth, go on.

She didn’t even finish the sentence before the light at the back of the garage came on, the click of a car locking, footsteps. We pulled ourselves together in a hurry, me wrestling with my zipper and a cock that refused to go back into my pants, her spitting to one side and smoothing her T-shirt over her still-bare tits, both of us dying of laughter and fright in equal measure.

False alarm. It was someone parking two levels up. We went up the stairs pressed to the wall, her in front, and I, still half hard, rubbing inside my pants with every step.

—Wait —I whispered, stopping her a few steps higher up—. No one’s coming.

I slid my hands around her waist from behind, moved up to her tits and squeezed them with both hands, and with the other I once again unbuttoned my pants. I pulled hers down a few inches and slipped my hand into her panties again. She was still soaked. I rubbed her cunt with two fingers, looking for her clit, and she pushed her ass back against my cock, grinding it through her panties. I was set on finishing what we’d started, right there, even if it was only for a moment. I moved her panties aside and pressed my glans against the slit of her cunt, wetting me with what she was already leaking.

—What are you doing? Are you crazy? —she said, but without moving, without pulling away, even pushing her ass back a little more.

—Shhh.

She wasn’t saying no. Her panting said the opposite. I started pulling her pants down a little more, felt the heat of her skin against my cock, and she spread her legs as far as her half-lowered clothes would allow, looking for the angle. I brushed the entrance with the tip, barely half an inch in, and felt her cunt tighten around the head even before I’d pushed. Then, this time for real, voices came. Two people talking in the entryway, the front door opening.

We came out of the stairs as calmly as we could, in the dim landing where nobody recognizes anybody. We said goodbye beside her car, between two columns.

—Monday? —I asked.

—Can’t, the kid has soccer. Tuesday?

—I’m traveling on Tuesday. That leaves us Thursday.

—Mmm —was all she said.

—This Thursday I… —she began, and stopped herself—. What if your partner decides to stay late again?

—We’ll go to a hotel.

—It’s not the same —she said, wrinkling her nose—. Honestly, I’d rather…

—I know —I cut in—. You prefer the office thrill.

She looked left and right along the empty street. She gave me one last kiss, her hand once more where it shouldn’t be, closing around the cock that still hadn’t gone fully soft, and whispered in my ear before getting into the car:

—Thursday. On top of your desk. Like in the movies. You’re going to put it in me all the way.

***

And here comes the part that’s truly hard for me to tell, because Thursday didn’t go the way I’d imagined either.

She came, yes. On time. This time without phone scares or nosy neighbors, just the two of us in the office with the blind half drawn. I undressed her completely at last, slowly, watching her in the soft light of the desk lamp. I pulled her T-shirt over her head, unhooked her bra, and let it fall to the floor. Her tits were even prettier than I’d imagined for six months, firm, with dark nipples already hard. I yanked her pants and panties down, put her against the desk, and knelt first, parting her legs. I ate her pussy right there, burying my tongue between her lips, sucking her clit until she clutched the edge of the desk and her whole body started shaking. She buried her fingers in my hair and pressed my face against her, grinding herself against my mouth with no shame at all. She was about to come, I could tell by the way her cunt was clenching around the two fingers I’d slipped inside while I licked her, when all of a sudden she pulled away by yanking my hair.

And just when I thought she wasn’t going to get away this time, I discovered that Daniela had rules of her own.

—Save that for later —she told me, backing off when I tried to lay her on the desk—. First let me enjoy myself.

She got me up off the floor, reversed the roles, and leaned me against the desk instead. She unbuttoned my pants, pulled them down to my ankles, and knelt herself, the same woman who seconds before had been about to come with her mouth. And she did to me exactly what she’d done to me in the garage, with the same calm and the same audacity, but this time with the lights on and no fear of footsteps, swallowing my cock all the way to the throat and drawing it back out slowly, licking it from the root. She would stop only to look up at me from below, with my cock resting on her lips and a new smile. I tried to stick to the plan, to move her toward the desk, grab her by the arms and put her on top of it, but she held my hands and shook her head without letting my cock out of her mouth.

—If you keep doing that I’m going to come, and then I won’t be able to afterward —I warned her.

She took my cock out of her mouth only for the exact second it took to answer, lips shining and a thread of saliva running down her chin:

—Then come —she said, like someone winning an argument.

And she took me back in, deeper this time, holding me in her throat for a few seconds before coming up. I tried one last time. I sat up, held out my hand to help her to her feet. And she, jokingly offended, stood up and started getting dressed. She pulled up her panties, bent down for her bra.

—Either you let me enjoy it my way, or I’m leaving.

I gave in, of course. How could I not. With my cock pointing at the ceiling and that half-naked woman threatening to walk out, I gave in. She knelt again half dressed, with the bra hanging off one shoulder and her panties on, that half-smile of someone who knows she’s won, and put my cock back in her mouth. There was no more arguing, no more plan, no more desk. Just her, setting the pace with her hand and her mouth, deciding everything. She sped up when she wanted and had me on the edge, then stopped dead when she felt I was about to come, squeezing the base of my cock with two fingers so I’d hold on. She kept me there what felt like hours, sucking me and stopping, sucking me and stopping, until I couldn’t hold back any longer and let go as I grabbed her head with both hands. She swallowed it all, no mess, eyes closed, and then kept sucking the tip for a while longer, getting the very last drop out of me. When she was done, she smiled and licked her lips.

There was none of what we’d imagined so many times in low voices beside the coffee machine. No cock in pussy, no desk between us, no her lying on her back with her legs open. Only her mouth, her rhythm, and her decision. In the blink of an eye she’d dressed herself, smoothed her hair, and erased any trace of what had just happened. I was still catching my breath, leaning on the edge of the desk with my pants around my ankles.

—Next Tuesday —she said from the doorway, winking at me—. Maybe that day I’ll actually let you put it in me.

And she left.

***

I’ve thought about it a lot since then. Her game is to heat things up, to promise, to make you want what she never quite gives. Two dates, two half-ways. The first one was blown up by her own son; the second, by her herself, for the sheer pleasure of being in charge. Maybe that’s her way of claiming something, of having control over the one thing where she can truly have it. My cock in her mouth and not in her cunt. Deciding when and how I come. Me asking and her choosing.

I don’t complain too much. Everyone plays with the hand they’ve got. But I confess that, the few times I run into Aníbal in a meeting and he pats me on the back calling me “partner,” I think of his wife kneeling in my office, with my cock in her mouth and a smile I’ve never seen on him, and I don’t know whether what I feel is desire or a silent punishment for falling for the same game again.

On Tuesday, almost certainly, I’ll open the door again when the bell rings.