Our First Month Ended Beneath the Stars

We had been together exactly one month when Nicolás chose that café to celebrate. It had been our place for weeks: small tables with wooden tops, warm lighting, that smell of roasted coffee that seeped everywhere and stayed in our clothes long after we left. We sat at our usual table by the window, and the afternoon sun fell across him from the side, outlining his profile in a golden line while he looked at me with that calm of his that had made me nervous from the very first day.

“One month,” he said, raising his cup as if making a toast.

“One month,” I repeated, and it seemed both too little and a great deal at the same time.

We had met in Comparative Literature class, at the end of September, when he sat in the chair beside mine without asking and asked to see my notes. It was a poor excuse, and we both knew it, but I agreed. A whole month passed in glances and long conversations in the hallway before either of us did anything concrete. In the end, I was the one who suggested we get a drink. Our first kiss was at the door of this same café, and since then we had become regulars.

It was hot. It was July, one of those summers that weigh on you, and the air inside the café was thick despite the fan turning on the ceiling without much conviction. The temperature made Nicolás smell different from how he smelled in winter: plain soap, a little lotion, and beneath that something warmer and more personal that had no name, but that I had learned to recognize without looking at him. It was his scent. Entirely his. And that summer, mixed with the heat and skin, made it difficult for me to concentrate on the conversation. It was also difficult to concentrate because I had spent days imagining his cock, wondering what it would be like to have it in my mouth, what it would feel like to have it enter me.

We talked about unimportant things: the September exams, a movie neither of us had seen yet, a classmate of his who had failed the same subject for the fourth time. Things that gave us a reason to be together without having to name what was really happening. Because something was happening. I knew it, and he knew it. That month had been careful, measured, without rushing. Long but still kisses. Hands that stayed where they were supposed to. So, so much tension that we had wordlessly decided to keep building, and I went home after every date with my panties soaked, having to finger myself until I came while thinking about him.

At one point I realized I wasn’t listening. I watched his mouth while he talked, the way he moved his lips, and I had to lower my eyes to my cup so I wouldn’t give myself away. Beneath the table I squeezed my thighs together because I could already feel my pussy wet, swollen, throbbing.

“Sofía? Are you still with me?”

“Yes, sorry. You were saying that the Economics exam…”

“I was saying that you seem strange this afternoon.”

I smiled without answering. He smiled too, and there was something different in that smile from the others. As if he knew exactly what was happening to me and was waiting for the right moment to do something about it.

He reached his hand across the table and brushed my fingers. A minimal gesture. But the contact went straight down to my stomach, and from there lower, until it tightened everything between my legs.

“Shall we go for a walk?” he asked. “There’s a park nearby. In this heat, it would be nice to be outside.”

It wasn’t just because of the heat. We both knew that. We were going to fuck. That afternoon. Finally.

He paid before I could protest. He took my hand at the door, and we went outside. The air outdoors was more humid than inside, sticky, and the feel of his hand in mine made everything else become background noise: the traffic, the conversations of people on the terraces, the sound of a motorcycle in the distance.

***

The park was large and almost empty at that hour. Most people had gone home for dinner, and the few who remained were couples on benches or elderly people with slow-moving dogs. We followed a path along a stream, moving away from the streetlamps, and the noise of the city gradually fell behind until the only things we could hear were the water running over the stones and our footsteps on the dry grass.

We walked without speaking. There was no need. Crickets chirped somewhere among the bushes, and the temperature had dropped a little since we left the sun, though it was still warm—the kind of heat that leaves your skin sensitive to any contact. Nicolás walked slowly, still holding my hand. Every now and then he glanced at me. I looked straight ahead and pretended to be very interested in the trees, but inside I was coming undone. I could feel the fabric of my panties brushing against my clitoris with every step, and it was almost unbearable.

We reached a clearing beside the stream. The moon was high and full that night, giving off enough light to see clearly, a bluish light that made everything seem stiller and sharper at the same time. There was a large tree at the edge of the clearing, an old holm oak with a broad trunk and rough bark. Nicolás leaned against it and gently tugged me closer by the hand until I was standing in front of him.

“Hi,” he said, as if we had just met.

“Hi,” I replied, noticing that my voice sounded strange.

He placed one hand against my jaw, slowly. His thumb brushed my cheekbone. I stood very still, looking at him.

“Do you want us to go back?” he asked, and the question was completely sincere. He never assumed anything. That was what I liked about him.

“No,” I said. “I want you to fuck me here.”

I watched him swallow. His eyes darkened.

“Fuck, Sofía.”

We kissed. At first, it was like that month had been: slowly, carefully, learning each other. But the heat and all the accumulated time were there between us, and the calm didn’t last long. His hand moved from my jaw to my neck, then to my waist, and he pulled me close until there was no space left between our bodies. I felt the hard bulge of his cock pressing into my belly through his pants, and that alone made a moan escape into his mouth. I parted my lips, and the kiss changed. Deeper. More urgent. His tongue searched for mine, and I sucked on it as if it were already something else, as if I were anticipating what I wanted to have in my mouth.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” he said against my mouth.

“Longer than you think,” I replied. “I’ve come so many times thinking about you that I’ve lost count.”

He let out a low growl, as if what I had just told him had struck him from the inside. His hand moved down to my breast over my T-shirt and squeezed my tit, searching for my nipple, which was already hard and outlined beneath the thin bra. He pinched it gently, and I arched my back toward him.

“Show them to me,” he said. “I want to see them.”

He pushed my shirt up to my neck. He yanked the bra cups down. My tits were bare beneath the moon, and he bent down and took one nipple into his mouth, sucking it hungrily, barely biting it, while his other hand kneaded my other breast. I grabbed his hair and held him against me. His tongue moved from one nipple to the other, leaving them wet, gleaming, stiff, so sensitive that every brush of the night air electrified them all over again.

He laughed a little between sucks, and I liked that, because desire without humor makes me nervous. Then his hand went to the edge of my skirt, and he slowly pushed it up my thigh, without hurrying, without assuming anything. I tensed for a second. Then I let go, because it was Nicolás, and I had wanted this with him for weeks.

His fingers reached the fabric of my underwear and stopped there, waiting. I pushed my hips slightly forward, and he understood. He slipped his fingers beneath the elastic and found what he was looking for.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “You’re soaked.”

“I’ve been soaked since the café.”

The first direct contact made me close my eyes. His middle finger parted my pussy lips and slid through the wetness, up and down, tracing the whole line, moving up to my clitoris and down again to my entrance. Then he pushed in one finger. Just one, all the way in, and curled it inside, searching for that spot not every man can find. Nicolás found it in two strokes.

“There,” I said, unable to keep quiet. “There, yes.”

He slipped in another. He opened me with two fingers, moving in and out with a rhythm that made my entire body tense, while his thumb worked my clitoris in small, firm circles. I rested my forehead against his shoulder and let him do it, trying not to make too much noise even though the park was deserted and the stream covered any sound. My pussy squelched around his fingers, a wet, obscene noise rising between our bodies and turning me on even more.

“Look at me,” he said softly. “I want to see your face.”

I lifted my head. The moon lit half his face, and he wore an expression I had never seen before: focused and horny at the same time. His fingers were still inside me, thrusting deep and coming out glistening with my wetness. He withdrew them and brought them to his mouth. He sucked them slowly without taking his eyes off me.

“You taste like what I’ve been wanting to try for a month,” he said.

I almost collapsed right there.

My hand went to his belt before I consciously decided to move it. I undid it. I lowered the zipper. I pushed his pants and boxers down to mid-thigh and pulled out his cock, which emerged hard and thick, the tip already glistening with pre-cum. I wrapped my hand around it and felt its weight and heat, the taut skin, the vein standing out beneath it. When I squeezed, he made a low, restrained sound that tightened something inside me.

“Sofía,” he said, and my name in his mouth sounded different from the way it always did.

I knelt before I had time to think. The dry grass scratched my knees, but I didn’t care. His cock was level with my face, and I looked at it for a second like someone looking at something she had been waiting a long time for. Then I stuck out my tongue and licked from the base to the tip, slowly, following the vein beneath it. When I reached the top, I circled his glans with my lips and took it into my mouth.

“Holy shit,” he said, and I felt his legs tremble.

I sucked him without hurrying, taking all of him as far as I could, letting him reach the back of my throat and then coming back up with my tongue pressed firmly against the underside. I wrapped my hand around what wouldn’t fit and moved it at the same pace. He put one hand on the back of my neck, not pushing, only guiding, and I looked up at him with my mouth full of him. Above us, the moon slipped between the leaves and fell across my face.

“Stop,” he said after a while. “Stop or I’ll come in your mouth.”

“I kind of want you to come in my mouth.”

“Another day. Right now I want to fuck you.”

He pulled his cock from my mouth with a wet tug and lifted me from the ground by my arms. He turned me gently until my back was against the tree trunk. The rough bark pressed through the thin fabric of my T-shirt. I didn’t care.

He pushed my skirt all the way up to my waist. He yanked my panties to one side, so hard that I heard the seam give. He lifted one of my legs and placed it on his hip, and with his other hand he guided his cock to my entrance. He rubbed the tip up and down over my wet lips, coating himself thoroughly, while looking into my eyes.

“Are you all right?” he asked, holding my gaze.

“Yes,” I said. “Yes, put your cock inside me now, Nicolás, please.”

He pushed. He entered me slowly but completely, all the way to the back, in one long movement. The air left my lungs, and I clung to his shoulders, searching for something to hold on to. A long moan escaped me, one I didn’t try to hide. I felt him fill me, stretch me, touch places no finger had ever reached before. He stayed still for a moment with his cock buried to the root, his forehead against mine, breathing over me.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.”

“Don’t stop, don’t stop.”

He began to move. Slowly at first, with an unhurried rhythm that made me want to ask for more while also wanting it never to end. Each thrust went all the way in, and he withdrew almost completely before sinking back down. My back against the bark, his face buried in my neck, his hot breath on my skin. Every movement reached deep inside, steady and constant, and I felt it from my feet to the nape of my neck.

“More,” I said, not recognizing my own voice. “Harder.”

He quickened his pace. He grabbed me beneath the ass with both hands, lifted me off the ground, and pressed me against the tree. I wrapped my legs around his waist and hung there, impaled on his cock, and he began fucking me that way, thrusting up from below with all the strength he wanted. Every blow made me rise and fall against the bark. Every blow drew a wet, squelching sound from my pussy that mingled with the stream. He gently bit my neck, and I muffled a sound that would have been much louder if I had let myself go completely.

“Tell me how you like it,” he panted against my ear. “Tell me.”

“Like this, like this, keep fucking me like this, all the way in.”

“Do you like my cock?”

“I love your cock, don’t stop.”

He lowered me, turned me without barely pulling out, and pressed me face-first against the tree. He made me spread my legs and arch my ass backward. He entered me from behind again, and from that angle he went even deeper. I braced myself with my forearms against the bark and let him fuck me that way, against the tree, while he gripped my hips with both hands and pounded me with sharp thrusts that echoed through the park at night.

One of his hands moved up, found my clitoris from the front, and began rubbing it while he kept fucking me from behind. The tension grew in waves, each one tighter, more concentrated in a single point. I tipped my head back and felt his mouth on my neck, his teeth grazing softly. His other hand moved up to my chest and squeezed one of my tits.

“Come,” he said. “Come with my cock inside you.”

“Nicolás,” I said, almost breathless.

“I’m right here. I’m right here, come.”

I came with my whole body contracted, my teeth clenched and my eyes closed, and felt my pussy tighten in waves around him as he kept moving. The orgasm was long and deep, stronger than any I had given myself while thinking about him. He kept thrusting, helping me draw it out, without changing his rhythm, and when my body finally stopped trembling, he turned me to face him again and lifted me against the tree.

“Again,” he said. “I want you to come again with me.”

He drove his cock all the way in and sped up. Now there was no rhythm, no control, thrusting faster and harder each time. I was so sensitive after the first orgasm that I felt the second wave begin rising almost immediately. I clung to him with my legs and arms and buried my face in his shoulder so I wouldn’t scream.

“I’m going to come,” he panted. “Sofía, I’m going to come.”

“Inside,” I said without thinking. “Come inside me.”

When he came, it was with a deep sound he didn’t try to control. He suddenly went still, pressed tightly against me, his forehead resting against mine. I felt the spasms, the hot pulse of his cock emptying inside me, the way he filled me in hot spurts, and that sent me over too. I came for the second time while he was still spilling inside me, clinging to him as if there were nothing else in the world, trembling all over, both of us breathless.

He stayed inside me for a long while, holding me and breathing against my neck. When he pulled out, I felt the semen running hot down my thigh, and it didn’t disgust or embarrass me. It made me want to laugh.

***

Afterward, we spent a while without speaking. It took my body time to return to normal: my breathing, my pulse, the temperature of my skin. The stream was still there. The cricket that had been chirping all night was still in the same tree. The moon was exactly where it had been, as if nothing had happened, though everything had happened.

I adjusted my skirt as best I could, with my torn panties tucked into my pocket. He fastened his pants. Nothing we had been during the previous twenty minutes fit into those ordinary gestures, and that made me laugh before I could stop myself.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing. It makes me laugh, going back to being normal people. And having your cum running down my leg.”

He laughed too, with that hoarse laugh he had after coming. He put his arm around my shoulders, and we stood looking at the water, which gleamed dark and still beneath the moon.

“Happy first month,” he said after a while.

“Happy first month,” I replied.

We walked back slowly, his fingers intertwined with mine. The city appeared among the trees little by little: the streetlamps, the distant traffic, the lights of the shops that were still open. I walked and thought about how there are things one keeps for a long time, memories that grow sharper with the years instead of blurrier. The tree. The moon overhead. His voice saying my name in that new way he had never used before. The taste of his cock in my mouth. The sensation of coming against the bark with him inside me.

That night, for the first time during that month, I knew what we had was going to last.