Our First Month Ended Under the Stars

We had been together for exactly one month when Nicolás chose that café to celebrate. It was our place by then, after weeks of small tables with wooden tops, warm light, that smell of roasted coffee seeping into everything and lingering on 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, drawing his profile in a golden line while he looked at me with that calm of his that had made me nervous from day one.

—One month —he said, lifting his cup as if making a toast.

—One month —I repeated, and it felt like both too little and too much at the same time.

We had met in Comparative Literature class at the end of September, when he sat down in the chair next to me without asking and asked to see my notes. It was a lousy excuse and we both knew it, but I went along with it. An entire month passed of glances and long conversations in the hallway before either of us did anything concrete. In the end, I was the one who suggested we grab a drink. Our first kiss was at the door of this same café, and from then on we became regulars.

It was hot. It was July, one of those heavy summers, and the place felt thick despite the fan turning on the ceiling with little conviction. The heat made Nicolás smell different from how he smelled in winter: neutral soap, a little lotion, and underneath that something warmer and more personal that had no name but that I had learned to recognize without looking at him. It was his smell. His alone. And that summer, mixed with the heat and the skin, made it hard for me to concentrate on the conversation. It also made it hard because for days I had been imagining his cock, what it would be like to have it in my mouth, what it would feel like going inside me.

We talked about unimportant things: September exams, a film neither of us had seen yet, a guy from his faculty who had failed the same subject for the fourth time. Things that let us 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 kisses, but still. Hands that stayed where they were supposed to. So much, so much tension that we had decided without words to keep building, and I would come home after each date with my panties soaked and have to put my fingers inside myself until I came thinking about him.

At some point I realized I wasn’t listening. I found myself staring at his mouth while he talked, the way his lips moved, and I had to look down at my cup so I wouldn’t give myself away. Under the table I pressed my thighs together because I could already feel my cunt wet, swollen, throbbing.

—Sofía? Are you still with me?

—Yes, sorry. You were saying the Economics exam…

—I was saying you’re acting weird this afternoon.

I smiled without answering. He smiled too, and there was something different in that smile. 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 tiny gesture. But the contact went straight to my stomach, and from there lower, squeezing everything between my legs.

—Want to take a walk? —he asked. —There’s a park nearby. With this heat it’d be nice to be outside.

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

He paid before I could object. He took my hand at the door and we went out into the street. The air outside was more humid than inside, sticky, and the feel of his hand in mine made everything else fade into background noise: traffic, people talking on terraces, the sound of a motorcycle somewhere far off.

***

The park was large and almost empty at that hour. Most people had gone home to dinner, and the few who remained were couples on benches or older people with slow dogs. We went in along a path that ran beside a stream, moving away from the streetlights, and the noise of the city slowly fell behind us until all you could hear was the water running over the stones and our steps on the dry grass.

We walked without talking. There was no need. Crickets were chirping 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 skin sensitive to any touch. Nicolás walked slowly, my hand still in his. Every so often he glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. I looked straight ahead and pretended to be very interested in the trees, but inside everything in me was coming apart. I could feel the seam of my panties rubbing against my clit with every step and it was almost unbearable.

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

—Hi —he said, as if we had just run into each other.

—Hi —I replied, and noticed my voice sounded strange.

He put a hand on my jaw, slowly. His thumb brushed my cheekbone. I stayed very still, looking at him.

—Do you want to go back? —he asked, and the question was completely honest. He never assumed. That was one of the things I liked about him.

—No —I said. —I want you to fuck me here.

I saw him swallow. His eyes darkened.

—Fuck, Sofía.

We kissed. At first, the same way we had that month: slowly, carefully, learning each other. But the heat and the time we’d built up were there between us, and the calm didn’t last long. His hand slid 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 stomach through his pants, and just that made a moan escape into his mouth. I opened 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’d been thinking about this for a while —he said against my mouth.

—Longer than you think —I answered. —I’ve come so many times thinking about you I’ve stopped counting.

He let out a low growl, as if what I’d just told him had hit him right in the chest. His hand slid to my chest over my T-shirt and squeezed my breast, searching for my nipple, which was already hard and outlined through 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 pulled my T-shirt up to my neck. He shoved the cups of my bra down in one yank. My breasts were bare under the moon, and he bent down and took one nipple into his mouth, sucking on it hungrily, biting it just a little, while with his other hand he kneaded the other breast. I grabbed his hair and held him against me. His tongue went from one nipple to the other, leaving them wet, shining, stiff, so sensitive that every brush of the night air reawakened them.

He laughed a little between sucks, and I liked that, because desire without humor makes me nervous. Then his hand went to the hem of my skirt and slowly slid it up my thigh, unhurried, not assuming anything. I tensed for a second. Then I let go, because it was Nicolás, and with him I had wanted this for weeks.

His fingers reached the fabric of my underwear and stopped there, waiting. I pushed my hip slightly forward, and he understood. He slid his fingers under 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 touch made me close my eyes. His middle finger parted my pussy lips and sank in, sliding through the wetness, up and down, tracing the whole line, going up to my clit and back down to the entrance. Then he slipped a finger inside. Just one, all the way in, and curved it inside, searching for that spot not all men can find. Nicolás found it in two movements.

—There —I said, unable to keep quiet. —There, yes.

He slid in another finger. He opened me with two fingers, going in and out in a rhythm that made my whole body tense, and with his thumb he worked my clit in small, firm circles. I rested my forehead on his shoulder and let him do it, trying not to make too much noise even though the park was empty and the stream would cover any sound. My cunt was splashing around his fingers, a wet, obscene sound that rose between our bodies and turned 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 had an expression I’d never seen on him before: focused and hot at the same time. His fingers were still inside me, going in deep, coming back out shiny with my wetness. He pulled his fingers out and took them to his mouth. He sucked them slowly, never taking his eyes off mine.

—You taste like what I’ve wanted to try for a month —he said.

I nearly fell right there.

My hand went to his belt without my consciously deciding to. I unbuckled it. Pulled down the zipper. Tugged his pants and boxer briefs down halfway to his thighs and took out his cock, which came out hard, thick, the tip already shining with precum. I wrapped my hand around it and felt the weight and the heat, the taut skin, the vein running along the underside. When I squeezed him, he gave 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 about it. The dry grass scraped my knees but I didn’t care. His cock was at face level, and I looked at it for a second like someone looking at something they had been waiting for for a long time. Then I stuck out my tongue and licked from the base to the tip, slowly, following the vein underneath. When I got to the top I circled the head with my lips and took him into my mouth.

—Fuck —he said, and I felt his legs shake.

I sucked him without hurrying, taking him as far as I could, letting him hit the back of my throat and then sliding back up with my tongue pressed firmly against the underside. I wrapped my hand around whatever wouldn’t fit in my mouth and moved it in the same rhythm. He put a hand on the back of my neck, not pushing, just along for the ride, and I looked up at him from below with my mouth full of him. The moon up above filtered through the leaves and fell across my face.

—Stop —he said after a while. —Stop or I’m going to come in your mouth.

—Maybe I want you to come in my mouth.

—Another day. Right now I want to fuck you.

He pulled his cock out of my mouth with a wet jerk and hauled me up off the ground by my arms. He turned me gently until I was with my back against the tree trunk. The rough bark felt through the thin fabric of my T-shirt. I didn’t care.

He hiked my skirt all the way up to my waist. He yanked my panties to the side, so hard I heard the seam give. He lifted one leg, hooked it on his hip, and with his other hand guided his cock to my entrance. He rubbed the tip up and down over my wet lips, getting himself thoroughly soaked, while looking me in the eyes.

—Are you okay? —he asked, holding my gaze.

—Yes —I said. —Yes, put your cock in me already, Nicolás, please.

He pushed. He went into me slowly but all at once, all the way in, in one long stroke. The air left my lungs and I grabbed onto his shoulders, looking for something to hold on to. A long moan escaped me that I didn’t try to hide. I felt him filling me, stretching me, touching places no finger had ever reached before. He stayed still for a moment with his cock buried to the root, his forehead pressed to mine, breathing on me.

—Fuck, you’re tight.

—Don’t stop, don’t stop.

He started moving. Slow at first, with a measured rhythm that made me want to ask for more and at the same time never wanted to end. Each full thrust, all the way to the bottom, and almost all the way out before sinking back in again. My back against the bark, his face buried in my neck, his hot breath on my skin. Every movement reached deep inside, steady and profound, and I felt it from my feet all the way to the nape of my neck.

—More —I said, and I didn’t recognize my own voice. —Harder.

He picked up the pace. He grabbed me under the ass with both hands, lifted me off the ground and slammed me against the tree. I wrapped my legs around his waist and ended up hanging there, impaled on his cock, and he started fucking me like that, driving up from below with all the force he wanted. Every удар made me bounce against the bark. Every удар made my cunt give off a wet, splashing sound that mixed with the stream. He bit my neck softly and I swallowed a sound that would have been much louder if I’d 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.

—You like my cock?

—I love your cock, don’t stop.

He lowered me, turned me without really pulling out, and put me facing the tree. He made me spread my legs and arch my ass back. He entered me from behind, and from that angle it was even deeper. I braced my forearms against the bark and let him fuck me there, against the tree, while he gripped my hips with both hands and drove into me with hard thrusts that echoed through the night in the park.

One of his hands came up, found my clit from the front and started rubbing it while he kept fucking me from behind. The tension built in waves, tighter and tighter, focused into a single point. I threw my head back and felt his mouth on my neck, his soft teeth. The other hand came up to my chest and squeezed one breast.

—Come —he said. —Come with my cock inside you.

—Nicolás —I said, almost out of breath.

—I’m here. I’m here, come.

I came with my whole body clenched, my teeth gritted and my eyes shut, and I felt my cunt tightening in waves around him while he kept moving. The orgasm was long, deep, stronger than any I’d ever given myself thinking about him. He kept thrusting, helping me stretch it out, without changing the rhythm, and when my body finally stopped trembling he turned me around again and lifted me back up against the tree.

—Again —he said. —I want you to come again with me.

He drove his cock into me all the way and sped up. Now without rhythm, without control, thrusting faster and harder every time. I was so sensitive after the first orgasm that I felt the second wave start building 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 —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, freezing suddenly, clenched against me, his forehead pressed to 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 the edge too. I came a second time with him still spilling inside me, clinging to him as if there were nothing else in the world, trembling all over, both of us out of breath.

He stayed inside me for a long while, holding me, breathing into my neck. When he pulled out, I felt his semen sliding down my thigh, warm, and it didn’t disgust me or make me feel ashamed. It made me want to laugh.

***

Afterward we stayed quiet for a while. It took time for the body to go back to normal: the breathing, the pulse, the temperature of the skin. The stream was still there. The cricket that had been chirping all night was still in the same tree. The moon, exactly in the same place, as if nothing had happened, even though everything had happened.

I straightened my skirt as best I could, with my torn panties stuffed in my pocket. He buttoned his pants. None of what we had been for the last twenty minutes fit into those ordinary gestures, and that made me laugh in a way I couldn’t hold back.

—What? —he asked.

—Nothing. It just amuses me to be normal people again. And to have your cum running down my leg.

He laughed too, with that rough laugh he got after coming. He put an arm around my shoulders and we stood there looking at the water, dark and still under the moon.

—Happy first month —he said after a while.

—Happy first month —I answered.

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

That night, for the first time in that month, I knew what we had would last.