The Confession That Changed Us That Summer

That afternoon I went to pick Damián up after work, and we went for a drink at a bar facing the sea, one of those places where people don’t go merely to drink, but to be seen. From the terrace, in the low evening light with glasses tinkling everywhere, I realized something that had always been there: men and women eyeing one another like fine merchandise, smiling, sizing each other up, testing whether they might end up in someone else’s bed that night.

Damián had been acting strangely for several days. Quieter, more focused on his glass than on me. I knew him far too well not to notice that something serious was weighing on his mind.

“I need to talk to you, Vera,” he finally blurted out without looking at me.

“Then talk. And start at the beginning.”

He held my gaze for only a moment, swallowed, and told me everything. He had been secretly seeing Elisa, Nadia’s daughter, for some time. He explained how they had started talking, how the tension had grown, and how, before taking a real step, he had preferred to be honest with me. He didn’t try to dress it up. He spoke plainly, as if he knew that a clumsy lie would offend me much more than an uncomfortable truth.

When he finished, he rested his elbows on the table and exhaled like a man awaiting his sentence.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to keep hiding it from you.”

I smiled slowly.

“I knew. Or at least, I could smell it. And it doesn’t bother me.”

He jerked his head up.

“It doesn’t?”

“No. I don’t give a fuck about the perfect-couple act. If you want her and she wants you, I’d rather know and play with it than pretend I’m blind.”

Then he told me something else. Elisa knew about me. She knew that Damián and I weren’t a conventional couple, and that there was more truth between us than in many marriages that were spotless on the surface and filthy underneath. What really turned me on wasn’t that, but her response: she had said she wasn’t afraid to share a man’s heart if she didn’t have to share it with lies.

“I want you to meet them both together,” he said.

“Then let’s do it properly,” I replied. “Call them. Invite them to dinner tomorrow. I’ll take care of the rest.”

I reserved a private room at a discreet restaurant, an elegant place far from the noise, where nobody would interrupt us. I wanted to see both their faces when they found me sitting there, waiting for them with a glass in my hand.

***

The following night, Nadia arrived dazzling. She wasn’t a young woman, but that only made her more dangerous. She had the confidence of women who no longer ask permission to enter a room and turn it into their stage. Elisa appeared beside her in a simple dress and with a smile impossible to decipher. They both froze when they saw me.

“Surprise,” I said, raising my glass.

Damián improvised a clumsy explanation.

“Since Vera and I were going to see each other afterward, I thought it would be better for the four of us to have dinner and talk in peace.”

Nadia arched an eyebrow, but accepted the game. We sat down. We ordered wine, nibbled on some food, and talked about trivial things at first. The atmosphere gradually loosened, although beneath the light conversation there was a tension so obvious it could almost be touched.

It was Damián who opened fire over dessert.

“I want to say something important.”

Elisa set down her spoon. Nadia looked at him very seriously.

“I’m falling in love with your daughter,” he told Nadia. “And before you imagine anything, I want you to know that I’ve respected her. I haven’t done anything behind her back that she didn’t want, nor anything you could call a breach of trust.”

Nadia put a hand to her chest. For a second I thought she was going to explode. But she didn’t. Her eyes filled with tears, and she took a deep breath.

“If she’s happy… I’m not going to stop her.”

Elisa squeezed her hand.

“There’s more, Mom.”

And then dinner stopped being dinner.

Elisa confessed that she had known for some time that her father was leading a double life. She knew about another woman, the repeated betrayals, the silences bought with routine. And she also knew that Nadia had been looking for air outside that dead marriage for months. She didn’t say any names; she didn’t need to. The way she looked at Damián was enough for Nadia to understand that her secret was no longer a secret.

“I’m not judging you,” Elisa said. “On the contrary. I’m glad you’ve stopped putting up with it out of habit.”

Nadia began to cry silently. Not from shame, but from relief.

I watched them, feeling something very hot settling in my belly. It wasn’t just the thrill of the situation. It was seeing a woman finally break the mask that had been stuck to her face for years.

When Damián confessed that the other important woman in his life was me, Elisa burst out laughing and thumped the table.

“I knew it. It had to be her.”

Nadia covered her face for a moment, red to the tips of her ears.

“Oh my God. How embarrassing.”

“Nothing to be embarrassed about,” I told her. “You’re an adult woman. You desire, you make mistakes, you enjoy yourself. Like everyone else.”

Dinner ended with toasts, nervous laughter, and the feeling that we had just opened a strange, dangerous door. The question wasn’t whether we should walk through it. The question was how long it would take us.

***

We left the restaurant, and Damián suggested prolonging the night. We took Nadia’s car to an area of the seafront where there were little bars, half-empty terraces, and dark corners between gardens and benches. Elisa and Damián sat at a secluded table. Nadia and I took another one, barely a few yards away.

The air smelled of salt, alcohol, and heat trapped in the pavement. We had drunk just enough to be brave and enough to stop pretending.

I leaned toward Nadia.

“Trust me. Loosen your blouse a little.”

She looked at me with her eyes wide.

“Here?”

“Right here. We’re only going to play.”

Across from us, Damián watched with that half-smile of his that always appeared when he knew things were about to get out of control. Elisa pretended not to care, but she didn’t take her eyes off us.

Nadia obeyed slowly. She undid two buttons of her blouse, revealing the tops of her breasts. Then she ran her tongue over her lips.

“I’ve never kissed another woman,” she whispered.

“Neither have I,” I lied, halfway. “But I’ve wanted to taste your mouth all night.”

That was enough. I moved closer and kissed her. Not a timid brush or a trial run. A real kiss, with my tongue entering, searching, pushing. Nadia took less than a second to respond. She grabbed me by the nape, opened her mouth, and kissed me hungrily, awkwardly at first, wildly afterward.

“Fuck,” she murmured when she pulled away. “You’re a great kisser.”

“You’re not bad yourself.”

I put my hand on her thigh beneath the table and began to move upward without hurrying. I felt her tense, spread her legs a little, and let me through. When I reached the edge of her dress, she grabbed my wrist.

“I’m soaked,” she confessed in a thread of a voice.

“So am I.”

We kissed again. This time her hand went straight to my breast. She squeezed it over the fabric, hard, with an almost furious need. I moaned into her mouth, and that finally made her let go completely.

Two men at the next table were already watching us shamelessly. They were strangers in their thirties, with several empty bottles in front of them and the stupidly excited faces of men who thought they had found a free show.

“If you need any help, let us know,” one of them said with a snicker.

Nadia started to pull away, but I gripped her thigh more firmly.

“Let them watch.”

“They’ve got a lot to say,” I said, raising my voice just enough. “We’d have to see whether they’ve got anything to back it up.”

The other man, emboldened by the beer, unzipped his pants beneath the table and pulled out his cock. The first imitated him immediately. They were nothing extraordinary, but they were hard and trembling with desire.

Nadia let out a nervous laugh.

“Not bad.”

“I’ve seen better,” I replied without taking my eyes off them. “But sometimes small things can surprise you.”

Damián didn’t move. He held my gaze from his table, and that gesture was a silent command. Play. But play well.

I stood, brought Nadia with me, and approached the two strangers. My pulse shot up. There was something obscene and delicious about walking across a half-empty terrace like that to kneel in front of a man I didn’t know at all, feeling Damián watching every step and Elisa burning with curiosity behind me.

I took the quieter man’s cock in my hand and stroked it slowly before licking the tip. Nadia, still trembling, did the same with the other. We looked at each other for a moment, smiled like a pair of accomplices, and then truly sank into it.

The taste of beer and skin filled my mouth. I opened my lips wider, took his cock as far as I could, and began sucking him at a slow rhythm, letting it get thoroughly wet before tightening my mouth. The man let out a moan and grabbed my hair.

“That’s it, slut… just like that.”

The insult didn’t bother me. On the contrary. At that moment it fueled me. I looked up at him without stopping my sucking and felt his thighs tense. Beside me, Nadia had already lost all her shyness. She swallowed the other man eagerly, moving her head up and down while he reached a hand into her cleavage and kneaded one of her breasts.

One of them slipped two fingers between my legs beneath my dress. He found the fabric of my underwear, soaked through, and let out a laugh.

“Look at this little bitch.”

He pulled the fabric aside and slid one finger inside me. Then another. He pumped them roughly while I kept sucking his cock. I moaned so loudly that I had to pull away for a second to catch my breath.

Nadia was just as bad, if not worse. Her stranger had pushed her dress up to her thighs and was stroking her pussy over her panties before slipping his whole hand inside. She arched her back, swallowing saliva and cock at the same time, her eyes shining with sheer bewilderment.

“Don’t stop,” I ordered, aroused by seeing her like that. “Take it properly.”

That completely set her alight. She gripped the base of his cock with one hand, masturbated him while licking the head, and then took him into her mouth again until she gagged. The man groaned and thrust her head twice, hard, as if he couldn’t restrain himself.

My stranger’s fingers were already driving into me with a dirty, rapid rhythm. I came with his cock still in my mouth, trembling, leaving spit all over the man’s crotch while he held the back of my neck. The orgasm struck me hard and low, leaving my legs weak and a hoarse moan escaping without permission.

Nadia came right afterward. She pulled away abruptly, breathing raggedly, and clung to the table while the other man kept working between her legs. I watched her close her eyes, throw back her head, and come with an expression of pure depravity that made me want her even more.

The men didn’t take long to come either. Mine warned me with a tug of my hair, and I didn’t pull my mouth away. I felt the first thick jet spill onto my tongue and swallowed it without hesitation. Nadia did the same with hers. We both ended up with our mouths full of another man’s cum, looking at each other as if we had just discovered something wild and necessary in our own bodies.

Then I kissed her.

It was a filthy, wet, obscene kiss. We mixed saliva, traces of semen, and quickened breath. Nadia moaned into my mouth and grabbed my ass with both hands.

The two men stared at us like idiots, delighted and dazed. We left some money on the table, more to complete the scene than for any other reason, and returned to our seats with trembling legs.

Elisa was red to the neck. Damián was hard as a rock beneath his pants.

“I can’t believe you did that in front of us,” Elisa said, almost inaudibly.

“Get used to it,” I replied. “The night is only beginning.”

***

We got home in the early hours of the morning. Elisa and Nadia would sleep in the guesthouse. When we said good night in the courtyard, Damián kissed me for barely a second—the kind of brief kiss that burns more than a long one when it carries the restraint of an entire night.

As soon as we closed the door to my bedroom, I turned toward him and grabbed his shirt.

“Don’t tell me you’re planning to leave me like this.”

He laughed under his breath.

“I’ve been holding myself back for hours.”

We kissed with an urgency different from that at the beginning of the night: the urgency of restrained hunger. I yanked his shirt out of his pants, slipped my hands beneath it, and stroked his torso while he lowered my dress over my hips. When I was left in my underwear, he looked me over as if he wanted to collect all at once what he had been forced to look at without touching for hours.

He turned me against the wall and slipped a hand between my legs. He found my pussy still sensitive, wet, and open from the accumulated heat and the stranger’s fingers. He slid two fingers inside me and made me gasp.

“You’re still dripping.”

“Fuck me already, Damián.”

He knelt behind me to pull down my underwear and, instead of penetrating me, spread my buttocks and licked me. The first stroke of his tongue across my ass tore a short cry from me. I planted my hands against the wall and arched backward, giving him better access. He held my hips and alternated his tongue between my pussy and my ass, sucking, licking, slipping the tip in where he knew it drove me wild.

“Fuck… yes… like that…”

He lifted me, carried me to the bed, and put me on my knees. I heard the lubricant being opened, then his fingers working my ass patiently, first one, then two. He wasn’t in a hurry, but neither was there any storybook tenderness. It was direct, assured preparation, the work of a man who knew my body and knew how to open it for himself.

“Relax,” he murmured. “I want you nice and open.”

I was already so aroused that I barely had to try. He kissed my back as he lined up his cock with my entrance and pushed slowly. I felt the pressure, the brief burn, my body forcing itself to yield. I moaned, clutching the sheets.

“More,” I begged.

He pushed a little farther. He remained still, breathing deeply, giving me time to adjust to his thickness.

“More,” I repeated, this time desperately.

Then he did. With one dry, deep thrust, he drove all the way inside me, making me arch and let out an open, utterly shameless cry. He stayed buried to the hilt for several seconds, gripping my waist while I clenched my ass around him and felt my legs tremble.

He began fucking me with a hard, clean rhythm, without embellishment. He withdrew almost completely and drove back in hard, striking exactly where I needed him. Each thrust shook my breasts, stole my breath, and pushed me toward that point where pleasure stopped being pretty and became animal.

I slipped one hand between my legs and began rubbing my clitoris in time with his thrusts. He saw me and grabbed my wrist.

“No. Let me.”

He leaned over my back, kept fucking my ass, and at the same time guided my hand to my pussy. He spread my lips with two fingers and began rubbing my clitoris with firm, quick, precise movements. The contrast completely undid me.

“Like that… like that, don’t stop…”

“I want to see you come on my cock.”

That was exactly what I did. I came trembling, my ass full and my pussy throbbing, spilling a string of filthy moans while he kept driving into me from behind. The orgasm tore through me from end to end. Damián grunted when he felt me contract and increased his pace, now completely beyond control.

“Squeeze me,” he ordered.

I squeezed him. I clenched my buttocks, buried my face in the pillow, and gave him all of my ass. A few more thrusts were enough to make him come inside me with a deep groan, spilling hot and deep. I felt every pulse, every thick jet staying inside while he continued gripping my hips.

He remained inside me for a long while, breathing against the nape of my neck. I didn’t want him to pull out. I crossed one leg backward, held him more tightly, and laughed between gasps.

“Don’t even think about moving yet.”

“Bossy.”

“And you’re obedient when it suits you.”

We slept like that for a while, sweaty, emptied out and full at the same time.

***

The days that followed changed the relationship between Nadia and me in a way neither of us could have imagined months earlier. What had begun as an awkward alliance because of Damián and Elisa became a new intimacy—sharp, playful, and charged. On the beach, on the boat, over afternoon wine, amid confidences about her broken marriage and our undiminished desires, a complicity laden with lust continued to grow.

One afternoon we were left alone in the house. Elisa and Damián had gone out for a walk. The silence in the living room was thick. Nadia wore a thin robe over her bikini; I wore a loose shirt still splattered with salt. She was nervous about what she was going to do about her marriage, the scandal, and the fear of feeling guilty and free at the same time.

We talked for a while. I listened to her. I gave her practical advice. Gather evidence, don’t let herself be manipulated, think of herself and her daughter first. But while she told me about her doubts, I couldn’t stop looking at the way her nipples showed through the damp fabric.

“You know what the problem is?” she finally said. “After everything that happened the other day, I can’t pretend anymore that I don’t want more.”

“More of what?”

She looked straight at me.

“More of you.”

There was no need to keep talking. I moved closer, opened her robe, and kissed her. This time there was no audience, no other people’s beer, no eyes watching. Only a quiet room, a mature woman newly unleashed, and my desire to see how far that hunger went.

I removed the top of her bikini and attacked her breasts. I sucked them, nipped them gently, and played with her nipples until they were hard as stones. Nadia moaned with a mixture of wonder and need that was driving me crazy. She slipped her hands around my back, tugged my hair, and said my name as if she could barely believe what she was feeling.

“I didn’t know a woman could make me feel like this,” she gasped.

“Because no one had ever touched you properly.”

I laid her down on the sofa, pulled aside the bottom of her bikini, and found a swollen, glistening pussy. I didn’t waste time. I spread her lips with my fingers and buried my tongue between them. Nadia jerked and let out such a sincere cry that it aroused me even more.

I licked her from bottom to top, slowly at first, getting her used to the pressure of my tongue. Then I became more direct. I sucked her clitoris, circled it, alternating short sucks with firm licks while I slid two fingers inside her. Her body reacted immediately: she spread her legs wider, squeezed my head between her thighs, and began moving her hips against my mouth.

“Fuck, Vera… don’t stop… don’t stop…”

I obeyed. I fucked her pussy with my fingers, curling them inside to seek the spot that makes a woman lose the power of speech, while my tongue punished her clitoris without rest. Nadia came the first time almost without warning, soaking my fingers and trembling from her thighs to her shoulders.

But I didn’t take my mouth away.

I kept licking her through the orgasm, slower and deeper, letting her come undone over my face. She tried to push me away, overwhelmed by the sensitivity, and I held her hips.

“Not yet.”

She looked at me with glassy eyes and a smile of pure depravity.

“You’re a fucking bitch.”

“Yes. And you love it.”

I kissed her again and let her taste her own flavor in my mouth. Then she clumsily and eagerly pulled my shirt down, half-undressed me, and pushed me onto my back on the sofa. She wanted to give me the same thing, but it was obvious she was still learning. Far from making it less erotic, that only heightened the thrill.

She positioned herself between my legs and looked at me like someone discovering new territory.

“Tell me how.”

“Start by kissing me here.”

I guided her head. I felt her first awkward kiss on the inside of my thigh, then another closer, then her tongue barely brushing my clitoris. I moaned and gripped her hair.

“That’s it. More firmly.”

Nadia learned quickly. Soon she stopped asking questions and began eating my pussy with a devotion that undid me. She had no porn-star technique. She had genuine hunger. She sucked, licked, breathed against me, looked up occasionally to gauge my reaction, and every moan I made emboldened her further.

I slipped two fingers into her mouth so she could suck them. She did it without moving away from my pussy, and the sight finally broke me. I came on her face, gripping the back of her neck and pressing her against me while she kept licking until she drew the last spasm from my body.

When I had recovered a little, I sat up and kissed her hard.

“Now you’re truly liberated,” I told her.

Nadia smiled, sweaty and disheveled, her lips wet and her breathing still fast.

“No. I’m only just beginning.”

And from the way she slipped her hand between my legs again, we both knew that this had not been an accident or a passing fantasy. It had been another confession. The most intimate of them all. The body finally telling the truth.