The Foreign Woman I Met While Reading in the Park

Living with roommates with whom I barely share anything means my weekends are, generally speaking, a desert. During the week I don’t notice it because I work Monday through Friday, but Saturdays and Sundays can turn into torture if I stay locked up at home. I’m the kind of person who can’t sit still: I need to move, go out, feel like the day is going somewhere.

That’s why, depending on my mood, I go to the beach, go for a run or, as on the occasion that gives rise to this story, sit in a park to read. I had never tried the last one before, and it turned out to be one of the best decisions of that summer.

It was a Sunday in July, one of those days when the heat weighs on your shoulders from first thing in the morning. I had already spent the morning at the beach, where I carefully observed dozens of tits: solo, in pairs, in groups of three or four. Sometimes I think that seeing so much skin together reconfigures something in my brain, that it produces an irreversible change in my neural connections. The problem was that I didn’t speak to a single woman all morning, so I was left with my adrenaline parked at the tip of my tongue and my cock half-hard inside my swim trunks all fucking morning.

I decided then to go to a park to read. I thought that, with any luck, I might get a second chance. Talking to women is my main hobby, my favorite sport. I love their femininity, the way they laugh, that way they have of letting their guard down when a conversation hooks them. I never miss an opportunity to talk to a stranger if the situation allows it.

I chose Viveros Park in Valencia because it was only a short walk from my place. I brought a book, because I’m also one of those who enjoys the classics, and a bottle of water so I wouldn’t have to go back before time because of dehydration. When I arrived, I went in through the main gate and took the path on the right, almost without thinking.

And almost immediately I saw her.

A beautiful woman who, in the middle of summer, was wearing something only a little longer than a crop top and tiny shorts. She was sitting on a blanket spread out on the grass, reading a book, or so it seemed to me. Even from far away it was obvious she was tall and had spectacular legs: white, thick, firm. Maybe she saw me too. I looked at her, held her gaze a second too long, and kept walking.

This woman is unbelievably hot, I thought. But how accessible can someone like that be?

I decided to keep walking to see if I could find another woman capable of competing with her. As I moved along, I was calculating the extremely high odds of rejection I would be facing within a few minutes. I didn’t find anyone else who caught my attention. For me to decide to go up to someone, a few requirements usually have to be met: she has to be alone, she has to look feminine, and she has to have an open body posture, the kind that doesn’t put up a wall from the outset.

So I turned back and sat about twenty meters from her. She was in the shade; I was under the full midday sun. I let her see me, let her know I was there, and with a couple of calm but determined looks I made her understand that at any moment I could get up and talk to her.

She neither left nor looked uncomfortable. She didn’t gather her things or change position. I took that as an invitation and didn’t waste any more time. I went over with the book in my hand and said the first thing that came to mind.

—You picked the best place to read —I blurted out, nodding toward the shade covering her.

I explained, half joking, that it was impossible to concentrate under that sun and that she, on the other hand, had luck on her side. She smiled. She was unexpectedly kind, which pleased me, so I took advantage of the momentum.

—Do you mind if I sit for a moment?

She agreed. I gathered my things and settled in beside her.

***

Nadia was a very sensual woman, with blue eyes and a round face. The top she was wearing let me see her abdomen, reddened by sunburn, and the shorts were so short they opened up in front of me those thick, white thighs I had admired from afar. I was already rock hard, pushing against the fabric of my pants, the tip getting wet against my underwear. Will she notice? I wondered, trying to keep the conversation afloat.

While we talked, I couldn’t stop looking at her legs, her tits squeezed against the bra-less top, the nipples showing through the fabric every time she took a deep breath, her shaved armpits, and that pink tongue that from time to time peeked out between her lips and that I was already imagining licking my balls. I told her I lived nearby and that it was the first time I had gone to that park to read. She, on the other hand, didn’t live around there: she had gone because she worked at a nursery, loved plants, and was looking for new parks, although that one in particular had disappointed her and she didn’t plan to go back.

Despite her almost perfect Spanish, I immediately noticed she wasn’t from here.

—Are you Russian? —I asked her.

—No, I’m from… —she said a country that, honestly, I have completely forgotten. If I had to bet, I’d say it was Latvian—. But I’ve been working here for a few years, at the nursery.

The conversation flowed on its own, effortlessly, like those strange chats that seem to come from far away. At one point I asked her why she had gone to the park alone.

—I wanted to do something different from being with my boyfriend —she confessed—. He went to the beach and I came here, to get a little break from each other.

Her boyfriend, also foreign and from a country even farther away than hers, was pathologically jealous. He wouldn’t even let her own brother text her. He checked her phone, deleted the conversations of the people who contacted her, and removed them from her contacts.

In my head the confirmations piled up: one, I wasn’t going to get her number; two, she wouldn’t be back at the park; and three, she wasn’t going to get out of that relationship anytime soon because they already shared a flat. Of course I didn’t tell her that. I just tried to cheer her up and make her laugh, even though she was already a very cheerful person to begin with.

She asked me if I used dating apps. I told her I did, but that I hadn’t seen a woman as beautiful as her on any of them. She smiled, accepting the fact that there was no escaping her beauty, that any man who came up to her would do so with, at the very least, romantic intentions.

***

The conversation went along as pleasantly as could be until, before we knew it, the moment came to say goodbye. When she got up, she put on a long open garment that covered her from the shoulders to mid-thigh, and we started walking together toward the upper part of the park.

On the way we crossed paths with a group of girls sunbathing topless on the grass. That park, being a tourist spot, has some wooden huts whose purpose I still haven’t managed to figure out, as well as some children’s play equipment and toilets at the other end. The exit we chose went right past those huts, and since it was Sunday at lunchtime, there was nobody around.

When we said goodbye, both of us were dead certain that we would never see or speak to each other again. Maybe that’s why she decided to leave me a mark, something to remember. We stood facing each other and, when I leaned in to kiss her on the cheek, she draped her right arm over my left shoulder, took me by the neck and pressed herself against me.

At that instant I felt what I had been side-eyeing all along: her right breast, soft and warm, crushed against my chest as she kissed my cheek, and the hard nipple pricked me through the fabric. My erection was immediate, my cock swelling fully inside my pants, and even faster was my reflex to put both hands on her bare waist and squeeze hard, sinking my fingers into that warm skin. I felt like neither of us was breathing. When she switched cheeks for the second kiss, I pulled her waist toward me so she could feel the bulge against my stomach, and she did feel it: a little gasp slipped out of her ear, a warm breath that made the back of my neck tingle.

I noticed her freeze for a second, but something in my head told me she was just as turned on as I was, that her pussy was already wet inside those shorts. I took her hand and dragged her almost forcibly toward one of the empty huts. She let herself be led without looking back. Barely had we stepped inside when I shoved her against the wooden wall and devoured her mouth. We kissed clumsily at first, then hungrily, with my whole tongue shoved deep inside, sucking each other’s saliva like it was the only thing left keeping us alive. I pressed my cock against her hip bone and she began to move her pelvis, rubbing slowly, looking for me. Every time she paused to catch her breath, she repeated a phrase that by then had already lost all its weight.

—I have a boyfriend —she murmured, without conviction, while her hands searched for the waistband of my pants.

I didn’t care much. I yanked her top up in one pull until her tits were bare, two white, heavy tits with pink little nipples, already hard and peaked. I bent down and planted my mouth on the right one, sucking it whole, biting it with my teeth, tugging it outward until I pulled a moan out of her. I ran my tongue around the areola, slowly, then took it all into my mouth and sucked hard, making noise. I worked the other one with my fingers, pinching it, twisting it. She threw her head back and lightly bumped it against the wood, holding back out of fear that someone might hear her from the path. I slipped a hand under her shorts, and there it was: the panties soaked through, scorching hot, with her swollen cunt pressing against the fabric. I moved the cloth aside and ran my middle finger through her slit, bottom to top, and felt it open, felt her clit standing up under my fingertip. I pushed one whole finger into her in one go and she swallowed the cry by biting her lip. I pulled it out wet, shining, and ran it across her mouth before sliding it back in, this time with two.

—Fuck, you’re so wet —I told her in her ear—. The juice is running down your thigh.

She was panting, clinging to my shoulders, riding my fingers. I took her free hand and pressed it against my pants, at cock level, and I didn’t let her pull it away. She closed her fist around it, felt the whole thing, measured its thickness and length, and a smile slipped over her face, half guilty, half greedy.

—I’ll only suck it —she told me, looking me in the eyes, her lower lip wet and trembling—. I can’t do anything else. If you put it in me I’ll come and I can’t get home like that.

I agreed. The two of us opened my pants. I dragged them down along with my underwear to mid-thigh and my cock sprang out, hard, throbbing, with a purple tip and a fat drop of fluid hanging from me. Her blue eyes lit up. Her mouth opened a little, without meaning to. She loved seeing me. I told her I’d had that erection since the exact moment we started talking on the grass, that I’d spent two hours staring at her legs with my cock burning, and she laughed softly, taking it as a compliment. She knelt down and set her knees on the wooden floor, because those huts don’t have seats or anything of the sort, and from down there she looked me in the eyes for a second before sticking out her tongue and running it long and slow from my balls to the tip.

—What a tasty cock you have —she whispered, more to herself than to me.

And she started sucking me off while looking at me with those round blue eyes that seemed to ask permission and give it at the same time. She took the whole thing in her mouth on the first go, until I felt the tip bumping against the back of her throat. She pulled it out with a string of saliva hanging from it and put it back in, now moving her head rhythmically, sucking hard on the way up and easing off on the way down. I held her by her blond hair with both hands, guiding her, and moved my pelvis, with no control left at all, fucking her mouth slowly so as not to choke her. She let me, opened her jaw wide, stuck her tongue out so my cock could slide in cleaner, and kept looking up at me the whole time. I grabbed her tits with one hand, squeezing them while she shook her head. She played with her tongue, wrapped it around my head, sucked me like I was a candy, took me in and out, and then went down to lick my balls one by one, taking them whole into her mouth, while her hand jerked me slowly, gripping me hard at the base. She came back up, kissed the tip, licked it in circles, and braced herself against my legs so she wouldn’t lose her balance.

—Spit on it —I told her—. Spit on it and keep going.

She gathered saliva and let a warm string fall over my head, then spread it with her hand, jerking me while she took my balls into her mouth. The hut smelled like sex, saliva, sweat. I was close. I put both hands on her cheeks, opened her mouth with my thumbs, and pushed my cock all the way to the back, holding it there for a few seconds until she began to arch softly and her eyes filled with tears. When I let go, she pulled away coughing, strings of spit hanging from her chin, her tits red from rubbing so much against my leg, and with an expression that was no longer the woman I had met on the grass.

—You’re going to make me come in your mouth —I warned her, gasping—. Almost there.

She took it back into her mouth, now with real hunger, faster, sucking with hollowed cheeks, making wet suction sounds. A few moments later, when I could already feel my load rising from my balls, her conscience came back all at once. She pulled my cock out of her mouth with a pop and stood up, red to the ears.

—I can’t keep going —she said, stepping back, breathing hard—. Sorry. I can’t. If I keep going I’ll come too and I can’t.

I had my cock out, hard, wet with her saliva, throbbing. I begged her with my eyes. She looked down, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and shook her head. I accepted my fate, resigned, with my balls swelling, but also with the certainty that I had just lived through something she wasn’t going to forget for months. I pulled my pants up, trapping my still-hard cock against my stomach, and she straightened her bra, her top, her hair and, incidentally, her whole life.

***

We came out of the hut and, back on the path, in full view of everyone, we said goodbye again with two kisses. She pressed her breast against me once more and I held her tight by the waist again, knowing I was sending her back to her boyfriend hot as hell, with her cunt soaked, her nipples sore from being sucked so much and the taste of cock still in her mouth. There was something cruel and sweet about that goodbye, in knowing I was sending her back with a secret he would never know, and that that same night, when he fucked her, she would be thinking about my cock pounding the back of her throat.

Months have passed and I haven’t seen Nadia again. Sometimes, when I walk past that park, I catch myself looking toward the path on the right, just in case. I hope that the day I run into her again, she won’t still be with that jealous boyfriend and we’ll be able to finish what we started in that hut. She knows where I live. I’m still waiting.