The Party Where I Left with a Married Man

The night began because of an invitation my mother wasn’t willing to turn down. One of her friends was celebrating her birthday in an apartment in another city, and she had been insisting all afternoon that I go with her. I’d come home tired from my classes, and all I wanted was to take a shower and go to bed, but she already had another plan in mind.

“You’re not going to let me go alone,” she said from the doorway of my room. “Besides, several of Nora’s friends are going. Interesting, elegant men, the kind who know how to treat a woman.”

I laughed, because I knew that tone. My mother had always been shameless, and she never pretended to be modest with me. We both knew how to move in that world of parties, drinks, flirting, and mature men who ended up paying for a hotel without asking too many questions.

When I went into the bedroom, I saw the dress she had chosen for me lying on the bed. Black, tight against the body, with thin straps and so short it barely covered what was necessary. I lifted it with two fingers and looked at her from the bathroom door.

“Do you want me to go dressed, or wrapped in a napkin?”

“I want you to look hot,” she replied without shame. “And in that dress, you’re going to look incredibly hot.”

I showered slowly, shaved as I almost always did when I went out at night and suspected I wouldn’t be coming home alone, and stood for a moment in front of the mirror, looking at my wet body. I wasn’t innocent. I knew exactly what I provoked when I got myself ready like that. I put on only a black lace thong, no bra, and when I slipped the dress over my hips, I realized my mother was right: it clung to me like a second skin and clearly outlined my tits.

When I came out, she let out a short whistle.

“Fuck, woman, you look like sin.”

“You want to attract attention too,” I replied, watching her adjust her own dress in front of the mirror.

“I’m just opening the way.”

We took public transportation to the neighboring city. On the way, I wore a long coat over everything so I wouldn’t run into anyone I knew, but as soon as we got off and started walking, I took it off. The air was warm and, besides, I liked feeling the stares. Men in the street, some alone, others sitting on terraces, all following my legs, my ass, my cleavage. It didn’t bother me. It turned me on.

The party was already lively when we arrived. The apartment was spacious, with music, liquor, and people talking in small groups. The hostess, whom I’ll call Nora, greeted us with kisses, compliments, and two generously poured glasses. My mother joined in immediately. It took me less than ten minutes to feel the effect of the alcohol and start moving more freely.

An hour later, he arrived.

He came in greeting people confidently, like someone accustomed to being desirable. Tall, broad-shouldered, fair-skinned, with graying hair, green eyes, and a well-groomed mustache that gave him a look that was almost too masculine for my taste that night. It wouldn’t be accurate to call him old. He was a mature man, yes, but he looked strong, clean, elegant. The kind who walks into a room and immediately makes you notice him.

My mother leaned toward me as soon as she saw him.

“That’s Darío over there. I’ve known him for years.”

“He’s handsome,” I admitted without hiding it.

“And he’s married,” she added, glancing sideways at me with a crooked smile.

“I didn’t ask you that.”

He came over to greet us. He kissed my mother on the cheek, exchanged a couple of sentences with her, and then looked at me with a mixture of surprise and brazenness that made me smile.

“And who is this woman?” he asked. “She can’t be your daughter.”

My mother laughed, delighted.

“She is. And she’s quite grown-up already.”

He held out his hand, but when we shook, his fingers closed around mine for a second too long. It wasn’t an accident. Neither was the slow look with which he traveled over my cleavage.

“Nice to meet you,” he said. “You’re dangerously beautiful.”

“And you talk as if you know what you’re doing,” I replied.

I saw the corner of his mouth curve. The first contact had been made.

For a while, we pretended to be normal. He stayed with some other men near the makeshift bar in the living room, but from my chair I could feel his eyes on me. I crossed my legs slowly, let the dress ride a little higher over my thighs, and ran my hand along one leg as if absentmindedly. Every time I did it, he interrupted his conversation to look. Sometimes I held his gaze. Other times I bit my lip and turned away slowly, as if I hadn’t noticed.

My mother wasn’t stupid.

“Don’t be so obvious,” she said under her breath. “If you keep that up, he’ll throw himself on you before the cake.”

“And would that be so terrible?”

She burst out laughing and drained her glass.

“Just don’t let him get away if you like him.”

The music got louder, and the party became a little more disorderly. When they went to sing “Happy Birthday,” we all gathered around the table. Darío positioned himself behind me. I didn’t need to see him to know it; I felt his heat pressed against my back. At one point, when I moved to let someone pass, his hand closed around my waist. Firm. Certain. His fingers descended just a little and brushed the curve of my ass over the dress.

My belly tightened instantly.

I turned my head just enough to look at him over my shoulder.

“Not like that,” I murmured, with a smile that said exactly the opposite.

“It’s hard to behave around you,” he replied close to my ear.

The birthday photo left the four of us together: the hostess, my mother, him, and me. While we smiled for the camera, I felt his hand descend again, this time squeezing one of my ass cheeks without any attempt to hide it. It was a short squeeze, but deliberate. The thrill shot straight down to my pussy. I felt wetness between my legs and hated how much I liked it.

After that, there was no way to pretend anything anymore. When the dancing began, he went to several women before coming for me. It was an elegant way of avoiding suspicion, but his eyes had been announcing his true intention all night. I accepted his hand, and we went to the center of the room.

At first he kept a certain distance. It lasted one song. During the second, his palm was already settled on the small of my back. During the third, it slid along my waist to the edge of my ass. I pressed myself closer, letting my tits brush against his chest every time we turned. His cologne was dry, masculine, clean. His breath touched my temple whenever he leaned down to speak to me.

“I haven’t been able to stop looking at you since I arrived.”

“It shows.”

“And it shows that you like it.”

I looked up, and this time I didn’t avoid his eyes.

“Maybe.”

His hand squeezed my right ass cheek more boldly. I felt something hard against my thigh when he brought his pelvis closer. He was already turned on. So was I. My pussy throbbed in an unbearable way, hot, wet, needing real contact and not just the friction of dancing.

The next song was slower, closer. I turned around and rubbed my ass against him without the slightest shame. He exhaled through his nose, as if he had to restrain himself. He took advantage of the movement to slip his hand beneath the edge of my dress and touch the skin of my ass directly. His fingers were big, hot. I threw my head back until it rested lightly against his shoulder.

“You’re going to get me into trouble,” he murmured.

“Don’t blame me if you don’t know how to control yourself.”

“I don’t want to control myself.”

Then he kissed me.

It wasn’t a timid kiss, or one that tested the waters. He took my face in one hand and thrust his tongue into my mouth hungrily, as if he’d been wanting it for hours. I returned it just as fiercely. His mustache scratched my upper lip a little, and that sensation turned me on even more. We kissed in the middle of the dance floor, surrounded by drunk people, colored lights, and other people’s laughter. I no longer thought about who was watching. Only about his mouth and the hard pressure of his cock pushing against me.

We went to sit down without stopping touching each other. We chose a corner of the table where my mother was still talking with a couple of acquaintances, too drunk to really care what I was doing. I settled onto Darío’s lap as if it were the most natural thing in the world. As soon as I sat down, I felt his hard, long erection digging between my ass cheeks.

I moved my hips slowly on purpose.

He kissed my neck and slipped one hand up my thigh. It rose inch by inch until it found my soaked thong. He didn’t have to touch me directly to realize it.

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

His index finger pressed the center of the fabric, right over my clitoris. A short moan escaped me, and I had to bite my lip. No one seemed to be paying attention, but by then I didn’t care. He kept rubbing in small circles, barely pressing his fingertip against the wet thong, feeling my legs tremble.

“If you keep this up, I’m going to come right here,” I told him in his ear.

“Then let’s go.”

He slipped two fingers in through the side of my thong and finally touched my bare vulva. They slid effortlessly between my swollen lips, and he gave a low, satisfied laugh when he felt how wet I was.

“Shit, what a hot pussy.”

I turned my face and kissed him again, dirtier this time, more desperately.

“Take me to the hotel,” I told him. “And don’t make me wait any longer.”

I told my mother with a naturalness that would have scandalized anyone else. She looked at me, looked at Darío, and raised her glass with a conspiratorial smile.

“Go on, then. Just don’t disappear for the whole weekend.”

***

We didn’t last even five minutes in the car before we stopped behaving ourselves. As soon as he turned the first corner, he grabbed me by the nape to kiss me, and I released his seat belt so I could turn toward him. He slipped a hand into my cleavage and seized one tit, squeezing it roughly. I moaned against his mouth. I felt my nipples harden instantly.

“I’ve wanted to do this since I saw you come in,” he growled.

He pulled down the strap of my dress and took out one tit. He sucked it hungrily, circling the nipple with his tongue and then biting it just enough to draw another moan from me. Meanwhile, his free hand raised my skirt to my waist. He moved the thong aside and slid two fingers through my wet pussy.

“Look at you,” he said. “Soaked for a man you just met.”

“Talk less and touch me.”

He thrust them into me all at once. Two thick fingers, moving in and out quickly while his thumb rubbed my clitoris. I spread my legs wider across the seat and touched one of my tits myself, turned on by the scene, by the moving car, by the idiotic risk that someone might see us through a window.

He pulled out his fingers, shining with my juices, and brought them to my mouth. I sucked them without looking away from him. Then I was the one who lowered my hand to his fly, opened it, and slipped my fingers inside his boxers. His cock was rock-hard, hot, thick. I pulled it out and stroked it with pleasure. He had a good dick, the kind that fills your hand and makes you imagine how it will feel inside you before you’ve even tried it.

“So this is what you were rubbing against me so much,” I said.

He laughed, but he was breathing harder and harder. I moved my hand up and down while he kept driving. Pre-cum was already wetting the tip. I ran my thumb over the head, and he muttered a curse.

“If we don’t get there soon, I’m going to fuck you right here.”

“Then get there quickly.”

***

The hotel was discreet, the kind where no one asked questions. In the elevator he slammed me against the wall and kissed me again. His hands traveled all over me: tits, waist, ass, thighs. I thrust my tongue into his mouth until he grunted and rubbed his cock over his pants while we went up. When the room door closed behind us, the first thing I did was take off my heels and let the dress fall to the floor.

I was left wearing only my thong.

Darío looked at me silently for two seconds, as if he wanted to burn the image into his memory. Then he undressed quickly, without taking his eyes off me. When he pulled down his boxers, I saw his erect cock, straight and veined, with a reddish, glistening head. My mouth watered immediately.

I knelt in front of him before he could ask. I gripped his cock at the base and kissed the tip. Then I stuck out my tongue and slowly ran it around the glans, tasting the pre-cum. He held my hair with one hand.

“That’s it, good girl,” he murmured.

I needed no more encouragement. I opened my mouth and took him all the way in, sucking eagerly. I lowered and raised the pace, playing with my tongue over the head, tightening my lips with every stroke. Then I pulled him out to lick from his balls all the way to the top, slowly and wetly, looking at him. His chest rose and fell faster.

“You’re going to make me come very soon.”

“Hold on,” I told him, and swallowed him again.

This time I went deeper. I pushed his cock down my throat several times, feeling my eyes tense and saliva escape from the corner of my mouth. He cursed, held my hair, and moved his hips slightly, restraining himself. The wet sounds of my mouth filled the room. I loved seeing him like that, big, hard, panting from a good blowjob.

When he felt himself reaching the edge, he gently pulled my hair to move me away.

“Now it’s your turn.”

He laid me on the bed and pulled down my thong in one motion. I was so wet that it stuck between my lips for a moment before falling. He looked at it and gave a brief laugh.

“What a fucking marvel.”

He spread my legs wide and settled between them. He didn’t start gently. He parted my lips with his fingers and buried his tongue directly in my pussy. The first lick made me arch my back. His mustache brushing my sensitive skin gave me a rough tickle that drove me crazy. He ran up from my entrance to my clitoris and stopped there, sucking it, licking it, pressing it with his flat tongue.

“Fuck… yes… like that…” I moaned, clutching the sheets.

He put two fingers inside me while he ate me. He pumped them slowly at first, searching for the right pressure, and then faster. I felt my pussy open, full of wetness, swallowing his fingers with obscene ease. Every time he licked my clitoris harder, my thighs trembled.

“You taste delicious,” he said against my vulva. “I’m not going to leave a single drop.”

I came in his mouth. Not all at once, but in an intense climb that tightened my belly, tensed my legs, and ended by exploding in wet spasms around his fingers. He didn’t pull away. He kept licking while I moaned and writhed, prolonging my orgasm until I had to push him away by the forehead.

“Stop… stop for a second…”

He sat up with his face glistening with me and displayed it shamelessly before kissing me. I could taste myself in his mouth, mixed with saliva. That detail turned me on even more.

He lay back and gripped his cock to stroke it a couple of times.

“Come here. I want to watch you ride me.”

I climbed on top of him, guiding the tip to my entrance. My pussy was so wet that it slipped in immediately. I lowered myself slowly, feeling him open me, feeling him truly fill me. I let out a deep moan when I had him completely inside. He was thick, perfect for making me feel occupied and stretched.

“Fuck… you take me so well,” he said.

I began moving slowly, rising and lowering myself over his cock. At first I wanted to savor it, feel the internal friction, find the exact angle. Then I lost patience. I picked up the pace, my tits bouncing, my pussy swallowing him again and again, the wet sound becoming more and more obvious. He gripped my hips and helped me come down harder.

“That’s it, fuck my cock,” he growled. “Use it.”

I did. I rode him eagerly, searching for the spot that made me see lights behind my eyelids. When I found it, I began panting for real. I rubbed my clitoris with two fingers while riding him. He watched my body work over his, fascinated and aroused, getting closer and closer to coming.

“Don’t come yet,” I told him. “I want more.”

He sat up suddenly and kissed me while he was still buried inside me. Then he turned me around and put me on all fours on the bed. He spread my ass cheeks with his hands and moaned just from looking at me.

“This is how I wanted to see you.”

He penetrated me with one firm thrust, without warning. A cry escaped me. He began with a hard, deep rhythm, striking my ass with his pelvis on every entry. I held onto the headboard and pushed back to take him better. I felt the bed move, my moans mixing with his panting, wetness running down my thighs.

“Yes… like that… don’t stop…”

“You have a pussy that squeezes wonderfully,” he said as he fucked me harder. “It feels like it’s milking my cock.”

He grabbed my hair, not to hurt me, but to arch my body more. He changed the angle and began hitting exactly where it made me lose my mind. I cried a little from the pleasure, from the sheer excess of it. My legs trembled, my fingers went numb from gripping the wood so hard, and even so I wanted more. More depth. More force.

I slipped one hand between my legs and masturbated my clitoris while he kept driving into me from behind. It didn’t take long for me to come again. This time it was wilder. The orgasm split me in two and made me squeeze his cock so tightly that he cursed and began thrusting faster, more desperately.

“I’m going to come… fuck…”

He pulled out for only a second and turned me onto my back. He lifted my legs until they rested on his shoulders and thrust into me again, all the way. The position made me feel him even deeper. He fucked me like that, watching my face, seeing my mouth fall open and my tits shake with every thrust. I couldn’t stop moaning his name.

“Come with me,” I told him.

He kissed me, drove deep one more time, and came inside me. I felt it clearly: his cock pulsing, the hot release filling me, his body tense over mine as he kept thrusting a few final times. I wrapped my legs around his waist and enjoyed the wet, thick sensation remaining inside me.

We lay there for a moment, panting, pressed together and sweaty.

But the night wasn’t over.

We rested only long enough to get worked up again. He took me to the bathroom and sat me on the sink so he could eat my pussy again while I jerked him off. Then he pressed me against the shower wall and penetrated me standing up, holding one of my legs high. Later we went back to the bed, and I sucked him until I made him moan again, alternating mouth and hand, playing with his balls, watching him while I filled my mouth with saliva. He put me on my side and fucked me slowly at first, then hard, until we were both exhausted.

***

The next morning I woke with my body aching in a delicious way. Darío was still asleep beside me, but all it took was for me to get up naked to go to the bathroom and for him to see me walking before something else woke up in him. He came in behind me while I turned on the shower.

“I’m not finished with you yet.”

He grabbed me by the waist, made me bend over the sink, and pushed his cock into me without much preparation. My pussy was still sensitive and a little swollen from the night before, so the first thrust drew a moan from me that sounded almost like a complaint. I liked it. He noticed too.

“That’s it. Feel me fill you again.”

He fucked me in front of the mirror, watching my expression, one hand gripping a tit and the other squeezing my hip. In the reflection, I could see him sliding in and out, my own body responding by opening to him again, still wet. I ended up resting my forehead against the glass, moaning without shame.

Then we showered among kisses, hands, and another brief blowjob that left a salty taste in my mouth and a foolishly satisfied smile on my face. We ate little. We wanted to keep touching each other more than we wanted to eat.

On the way back, he started groping me again as soon as we left the hotel. I was in the passenger seat with the dress on again, but by then it was no barrier to anything. His hand slipped between my thighs every few minutes, rubbing my pussy through the fresh thong, squeezing my tits, and kissing me at every traffic light.

At one point, we both knew we wouldn’t make it to town. He turned the car onto a deserted road and parked on the side, among bushes and silence. He didn’t even fully turn off the engine before reclining the seat and saying:

“Come here.”

I climbed over the console and straddled him. He lowered his pants just enough, pulled out his cock, and positioned it at my entrance. The car’s suspension groaned with every movement, but instead of cutting off our desire, it made everything dirtier. I began riding him hungrily, holding onto his shoulders, letting him pull my dress up to my waist.

“Look how wet you’re getting again,” he said, slipping one hand between us to touch where our bodies joined.

He lowered me slightly to kiss one tit above the edge of my dress, then grabbed my ass to make me bounce harder on his cock. I moaned into his neck, feeling the trapped heat of the car and the insistent pleasure rising again.

We came together, sweaty and laughing like two satisfied idiots. He helped me straighten my clothes and started the car again. Before dropping me off near home, he kissed me deeply, as if he wanted to seal the promise.

“This isn’t going to be just one night.”

“You’d better not,” I replied.

And it wasn’t just one night. We saw each other more times, in other hotels, in his car, on the occasional afternoon stolen between excuses. He wasn’t the only man I slept with during that period, nor was I the only woman in his life, but I always remember that party for the same reason: because everything was decided from the first glance, from the first brush at my waist, from the exact moment I understood that I was going to leave that night with a married man and that, far from feeling guilty, all I wanted was to spread my legs for him as soon as he closed the door of a hotel room.