My Two Lovers in the Same Week in Valencia

After Carlota went back to Bordeaux, I was left alone for a few days in Valencia. I’d given that address for receiving packages and, incidentally, so he could come visit me whenever he wanted. And did he ever want to. Damián showed up every three days, punctual as clockwork, with that smile that already knew what was going to happen before it happened.

On Monday he arrived around noon. We ate without rushing and then he suggested going to the movies. I was wearing a front-buttoned dress with a short skirt: standing up, it fell to mid-calf, but sitting down it rode up until it showed almost all of my thigh.

The theater was half empty. We chose seats at the back, off to one side, discreetly tucked away where the screen barely lit us.

I was trying to follow the film when I felt his hand sliding up my leg. His other arm was already around my shoulders and closing over my left breast. I turned my head to look at him and he kissed me long and hard, stealing my breath while his fingers reached their target, pushing the fabric of my underwear aside, sinking between my legs until he made me clamp them shut.

—Stay still —he whispered in my ear—. Watch the screen.

As if I could focus on anything but his hand.

With skillful fingers he unbuttoned the remaining buttons, exposing my beige bra. He pulled me toward him, kissed my neck, my breasts. My own hand went down to his crotch and I found the bulge growing firmer under his lightweight trousers. I started stroking him slowly, feeling him swell beneath the fabric.

He pushed my underwear aside and entered me with one finger, curling it upward, searching for that spot that made me part my legs and give in. His hot breath on my chest, his lips closing over my nipple, told me how aroused he was. His fingers moved faster and faster and my sighs turned into moans I had to stifle.

I kissed him, holding his face in both hands, and leaned over his lap. I pulled down the zipper of his trousers, freed his cock, and took him between my lips. We stayed like that for quite a while, him pleasuring me with his hand and me with my mouth, until the first orgasm shook me and I squeezed my legs together with his cock between my lips.

He looked around. We were alone; the nearest viewers were several rows down. He lifted me by a hand on my ass and, slowly, I lowered myself onto him, letting him enter all the way to the hilt. I braced my hands on the armrests and began a slow up-and-down motion, measuring every movement so as not to make a sound. His sighs quickened, his hands pinned me against him, and I felt him spill deep inside me as a second orgasm left me trembling on his lap.

We stayed still until his cock softened. I adjusted my underwear, he pulled up his zipper, and we kept watching the film for a few more minutes as if nothing had happened. Then I went to the bathroom, changed the soaked garment, wrapped it in paper, and put it in my bag.

We went out for wine and tapas, with kisses and caresses, and from there to the apartment. The next day he was traveling north for work and he wanted to spend that last night with me.

As soon as we got there, we went straight to the bedroom. We stripped each other bare and he took me again: first with my legs over his shoulders, feeling him deep; then face-to-face, looking at each other; and in the end I got on all fours. While he pounded into me, his fingers prepared the other way, slowly, until he changed position and entered me from behind, emptying himself inside me. I didn’t count the orgasms. I fell asleep so deeply that I didn’t even feel him leave at dawn.

***

I spent the rest of the week in peace, reading, recovering from that encounter. Until Friday, around noon, the phone rang.

—I’m in Valencia —Adrián said—. Can we see each other? I came by motorbike. We could take that ride I promised you.

I said yes and gave him the address, inviting him to lunch. I made spaghetti Bolognese, a salad, and opened a well-aged red wine. I took a bath, got out of my tracksuit, and put on a short-sleeved floral dress, very summery, a beige lace set, thigh-high stockings, and matching heels. I fixed my hair, put on perfume, and sat in the living room to wait for him, reading.

He arrived after three-thirty, apologizing, with a box of chocolates and a flower. We greeted each other with two kisses and I offered him something to drink before lunch.

He asked for a beer because he was hot from the ride; I made myself a cocktail. We sat on the sofa and I turned slightly to one side so I could talk to him.

—To what do I owe the honor of your visit? —I asked.

—I had to come to Valencia and thought I’d stop by. Does it bother you? Did you have plans?

—Not at all. On the contrary, I’m glad to see you. I was just surprised.

—Well then, cheers. There are some trails near here with beautiful views. We can go on the bike. Up for it?

—Of course, but it’s late and we haven’t eaten yet —I told him.

—It’s summer; it gets dark later. Don’t worry.

He kept looking at me. His eyes traveled over my whole body and I felt a shiver run down my back.

—You look gorgeous. And you smell so good —he said, resting his hand on my thigh and bringing his mouth to my neck.

That kiss gave me goosebumps. His hands slid up my belly to my breasts, caressing them through the fabric, and we melted into a long kiss, his tongue searching for mine while his fingers unbuttoned the dress and went straight to my skin, freeing me from my bra. I sank back into the sofa, pressed by his body, his hands everywhere.

He pulled my dress up to my waist. His bulge rubbed against me, up and down, and I was already wet. I answered his impatience by hugging him, tangling my tongue with his. Between caresses we stripped each other: only the dress bunched at my waist and the stockings stayed in place. He slid the last garment down my legs while kissing my pubis, and then he gave himself over to a slow oral rhythm that went from the base of my buttocks to my clit, again and again, until he had me moaning without restraint.

He positioned himself between my legs and entered me in a single thrust. Aaah. I held him as I felt him open me completely, arching my back to take him all the way. He was kissing my neck and breasts with his cock buried inside me and he began a slow, rhythmic rocking, sliding easily because I was so wet after the first orgasm.

Each thrust was more intense. His sighs and my moans mingled; I wrapped my legs around his waist, trying to match his rhythm, which kept building. He brought his hands down to my ass, squeezed, and drove into me harder and deeper, until with one last push he emptied himself inside me. I came at that exact moment, and we stayed locked in an embrace, his cock still pulsing, both of us panting.

—I’m going to have to shower again —I told him, smiling, still out of breath.

—You were going to change anyway —he answered—. I don’t think you’d have gotten on the bike in that short dress.

We showered together, with a bit of touching and not much more, and got dressed. I put on a white top, a denim jacket, black leggings, and ankle boots. We packed some food into containers and headed to the outskirts, following a path through the woods.

***

We ate in a grassy clearing a few meters off the trail. We spread out the tablecloth and chatted for quite a while. Then we packed up and walked among the trees until we reached a lookout point where a lagoon surrounded by mountains came into view. I took off my jacket and we sat down to admire the landscape. He braided a small crown from dandelion stems and placed it on my head.

—What are you doing, you— I couldn’t finish the sentence. His kiss cut me off.

He eased me down onto the grass without ever stopping kissing me. His hands roamed my body hungrily, from my waist to my legs, slipping between my slightly parted thighs.

—You’re so beautiful —he told me, eyes locked on my face while his fingers stroked my sex over the leggings.

My breathing quickened as his fingers moved up and down and I grew wetter. He kissed my mouth, my neck, while his other hand pressed into my nipples under the top. He lifted it, uncovered my breasts, and took one in his mouth; the other he covered with his hand. A current ran down my back to the nape of my neck, and his hand slipped under the fabric to touch me directly.

I was clenching my legs and mussing his hair with my fingers while he kept going. He sat up a little, stripped off my leggings and the last garment in one yank, and I kicked off the ankle boots myself. Instinctively I looked around: we were completely alone. A gentle breeze raised goosebumps on my skin. He pulled down his trousers, lifted my legs onto his shoulders, and thrust into me in one hard stroke, deep, tearing a moan from me.

—You taste so good —he told me in a husky voice, picking up speed—. You’re burning up.

I moaned through clenched teeth, enjoying the way he possessed me. His hips never stopped, his hands squeezed my breasts, and I exploded into a very long orgasm, moving against him, my hands on his.

He kept moving more slowly, letting me enjoy myself, while I half-closed my eyes and felt the cool wind on my sweaty forehead. Then we changed positions: he turned me onto my side, with one leg over his hip, and thrust into me while kissing my neck, not quite as deep but just as pleasurable.

I pushed him until I was on top. I planted my hands on his chest and began to rise and fall, rolling my hips in circles with each descent, taking him all the way in. His hands moved from my breasts to my ass until, pressing me against him, he pulled me down and emptied himself completely, in spurts I could feel filling me entirely. I leaned down and held him tight while he finished inside me.

We stayed like that, wrapped around each other, kissing. After resting for a moment I stood up, trembling, and felt a trickle run down my legs. He pulled some tissues from his pocket and I wiped myself clean. I adjusted my top, gathered our clothes, and while I got dressed I heard a noise in the brush: it was a squirrel that scrambled up a tree in a hurry. We laughed.

Once dressed, we rode back on the bike with my arms around his waist and returned to the apartment.

We said goodbye in the entryway. I went upstairs to take a long bath, remembering everything we’d lived through over those hours, and thinking that week—two men, two different worlds—I would never forget it.