The Trip Where I Discovered What I Really Liked

My name is Valeria, and I’m twenty-six years old. Before getting into what I want to tell, I think it’s worth situating myself a little: I’m a yoga and functional training instructor, so my body reflects that daily work. Brunette, with long straight hair down to my shoulders, fair skin that tans easily, small firm breasts with pink nipples that get hard at the slightest thing, a defined waist, strong legs, and a round ass that’s the part of me guys on the street look at most. I’m not mentioning it out of vanity; I’m mentioning it because those details matter in what happened.

I’d been with Diego for three years when all this happened. Our relationship was one of those people call «open», though in reality it was more nuanced than that: there were no written rules, but there had been honest conversations from the start. We had fucked other people without shame from the first months: role-play games, recordings where I sucked him off looking at the camera, the occasional shared visit where another guy fucked me while Diego put his cock in my mouth. What Diego still didn’t know was the detail I’d been carrying around for a long time.

My curiosity about women wasn’t new. It had appeared slowly, with the subtlety of something that had always been there and that one takes time to name. I had never acted on it. Not for lack of desire, but because the right opportunity, the right person, hadn’t arrived at the same time. But many nights, while Diego slept, I would slip my hand between my legs and imagine another woman’s pussy against my mouth, another tongue working me until I came.

One night, in the middle of one of our fuck sessions, I confessed it to Diego. He was on top of me, his cock buried all the way inside, and between one moan and the next, I blurted it out. I told him I imagined being with a woman. That I was genuinely curious, not in some abstract fantasy way but as something concrete I wanted to live one day. Diego came inside me the moment he heard it.

Afterward, with his cum still dripping down my thighs, he looked at me for a long moment before smiling.

—And if you could choose someone, who would you choose? —he asked.

The question caught me off guard. I processed it in silence while he waited, and then, without thinking too much, I answered:

—Natalia.

Natalia was his best friend from university. Four years older than me, a body honed by discipline, brown skin, black hair cut to ear length. So self-assured it almost bordered on intimidating. Big tits and a firm ass, the kind that show under any dress. Exactly the kind of woman that made me nervous in the best possible way.

Diego nodded slowly. I think he liked the idea more than he expected. I felt his cock, still inside me, harden again.

—It has to seem spontaneous —I told him, moving my hips against him—. Nothing planned. Nothing forced.

—Perfect —he replied, starting to fuck me again—. Because next weekend we’re all going on a trip.

***

The destination was a coastal city four hours away by train. Diego and his group of friends organized that trip once a year: always the same place, always the same hotel facing the sea. Natalia had been part of the core group for years. I had gone once before and knew the setup: arrival on Friday, return on Sunday, days at the beach and long nights.

I decided to travel on the same train as the group but seated apart from Diego. I gave him a vague excuse —I wanted to read, I needed to rest a little— and he understood without asking more. I sat in the row behind Natalia, who was traveling alone with her headphones on and her gaze lost in the landscape passing by the window.

I leaned forward.

—Mind some company? —I asked.

She turned, saw me, and took one earbud out with a casual gesture.

—Sure —she said, and pointed to the empty seat beside her.

We talked for almost the whole trip. About work at first, then music, then things people usually don’t talk about until they’ve known each other longer. Natalia had that way of asking questions that made you say more than you’d planned to say. By the time the train entered the last station, I’d already told her things I usually kept to myself for weeks before sharing.

At one point, the train went through a tunnel and darkness covered us for a few seconds. I don’t really know why, but I reached out and brushed her hand over the armrest. She didn’t pull away. When the light came back, we were both still facing forward, as if nothing had happened. I could feel my pussy wet under my jeans.

***

When we got to the hotel, the room arrangement was simple: guys with guys, girls with girls. Natalia and I ended up sharing without anyone questioning it.

It was a spacious room with a view of the sea. Natalia left her bag on the bed to the right and sat on the edge, stretching her arms over her head. Her T-shirt rode up for an instant and I saw the line of her abdomen, perfectly defined. Then she leaned back on her elbows and looked at me.

—I’m going to shower before we go out —she announced.

I sat on the other bed and took off my jacket slowly.

—Do you mind if I come in too? —I said—. To save time. We can shower together.

Natalia looked at me for a long, long second. A fraction of a second in which I read something that was not rejection.

—I don’t mind —she finally replied.

She went in first. I waited to hear the water before taking off my clothes and opening the bathroom door. The steam was already fogging up the mirror. Natalia’s silhouette could be seen through the translucent screen.

I opened the screen. She turned, and her hand extended to help me in, the same gesture you’d use to help someone over a step. I took her hand and stepped under the stream of hot water.

Natalia was exactly as I’d imagined her. Water ran over her brown skin, over that body that was the result of years of discipline. Big, firm tits, dark nipples tense from the contrast of the water, a pussy shaved almost completely except for a small strip of black hair at the top. I tried not to look too much. I failed at that pretty quickly. I could feel my own nipples hardening under the water and, between my legs, something began to throb that had nothing to do with the heat of the shower. And when I lifted my gaze to her face, she wasn’t looking into my eyes either: hers were fixed on my small tits, slick with soap.

We washed without talking much, brushing against each other when the space demanded it. At one point her hip bumped into mine and neither of us moved away. Neither of us made any clear move. When we got out and wrapped ourselves in towels, the tension between us was so palpable it almost had texture of its own. My pussy was soaked and it wasn’t water.

***

We spent the rest of the day with the group: beach, cold beers, a noisy restaurant where Diego shot me a look from the far end of the table that was half question, half smile. I answered with something that said nothing and said everything.

As night fell, Natalia and I changed to go out alone for a while. She put on a short dress that molded every curve; I wore dark shorts and a thin T-shirt without a bra. We both knew what we were doing, even if neither of us said it.

We walked toward the promenade. The sea chill made the atmosphere feel heavier than usual for that time of year. Halfway there, Natalia took my arm without preamble, as if it were something she always did.

—I’m cold —she said.

—Liar —I replied, and we both laughed.

We found a small café with fogged-up windows and ordered something warm. We stayed there for almost an hour. We talked about relationships, freedom, what each of us was looking for at that point in our lives. Natalia was more direct than I’d expected; I ended up being more honest than I had planned. At some point she mentioned in passing that she liked women as much as men, that she had had three girlfriends and that in bed she was usually the one who set the pace. She said it with the same naturalness she might have used to say she preferred black coffee.

I didn’t answer. I just looked at her.

She held my gaze.

—And you? —she asked at last—. Have you ever been with a woman?

—No —I said—. But I’ve wanted to for a long time.

Natalia smiled faintly. Under the table, her knee pressed against mine and didn’t move.

When we left the café, the cold was definite. We walked back to the hotel pressed close together, her arm linked with mine, our hips brushing with every step. In the elevator, the doors closed and we stood in silence watching the numbers go up. There was nothing to say that would improve what was already being said on its own. I was squeezing my thighs because my pussy was dripping inside my clothes.

***

In the room, Natalia went into the bathroom. I took the chance to remove my shorts and T-shirt and put on what I slept in: just a short tank top and a pair of white cotton panties that clung to my wet pussy.

When Natalia came out of the bathroom, she was wearing a black sports bra and a black lace thong. She stopped when she saw me. Smiled.

—We’re basically matching —she said.

—Almost —I replied.

We pulled the blankets off the second bed without coordinating it. Neither of us suggested sleeping separately. We got into the same bed without commenting on it, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Natalia turned off the lamp on her side; I turned off mine.

The darkness in the room wasn’t total: diffuse light from the promenade came in through the window. I could see Natalia’s outline inches from me. We were on our sides, facing each other, though neither of us had decided it exactly that way.

Her hand found mine under the sheets.

The silence lasted as long as a heart takes to speed up.

I was the one who moved closer first. Just a little, enough for our lips to be almost touching. I waited. She closed the last few centimeters.

The kiss was short at first. Almost a question. Then she answered with another that was no question at all, and her tongue entered my mouth with calculated slowness, searching for mine, circling over it. Her hands moved to my waist, slipped under my T-shirt, and the space between our bodies disappeared completely. I felt her fingers brush my nipples and a moan escaped me into her mouth.

Kissing her was different from what I’d imagined. Softer in form, more intense underneath. Her hands knew exactly what they were doing; mine learned fast. I took her tits over the top and squeezed them, feeling the weight, the firmness, the hard nipples pressing through the fabric. She gasped and bit my lower lip.

—Take it off —she whispered.

I lifted the top and pulled it off over her head, and her tits were bare before me in the dim light. Big, round, with those dark nipples I’d been imagining since the shower. I went straight to one with my mouth and sucked hard. Natalia let out a long moan and grabbed my hair, holding me there. I switched to the other nipple, bit it carefully, licked it in circles. She arched her back against my mouth.

I pushed the sheets fully aside. Natalia propped herself up over me and ran her eyes over me for a moment before lowering her mouth again to my neck. She took off my T-shirt in one sharp pull. I felt her lips move slowly toward my collarbone, biting me without leaving a mark, sucking the skin between her teeth. When she got to my nipple she took it fully into her mouth and worked it with her tongue, then her teeth, then sucking it as if she wanted to rip it off me. A sound escaped me that I hadn’t planned, a rough moan that surprised even me.

—Quiet —she murmured against my skin, smiling—. They’ll hear us.

—I can’t —I answered, because literally I couldn’t.

She kissed her way down my sternum, my belly, the line of my pubis. Her fingers worked the fabric of my panties downward with a calm that drove me crazy. There was no rush. That was the first thing I learned from her: there was no rush, and the waiting was part of everything. She pulled them down my thighs, over my knees, until she got them off completely and tossed them to the floor. She stopped to look at me between the legs. I was completely soaked, with my pussy lips swollen and shining.

—You’re dripping —she said in a low voice, almost to herself.

She spread my legs with her hands and settled between them. She blew first, a cool breath against my wet pussy that made me shiver. Then she ran her whole tongue over me, from bottom to top, very slowly, collecting everything that was spilling from me. I cried out against my own hand.

When her lips reached my clit, the world shrank to that. To that mouth, to that tongue that knew exactly where to go and at what pace. She sucked it, let it go, drew circles around it, sucked it again. Then she put two fingers inside me and started moving them, seeking that spot inside while she kept working me with her tongue outside. My hands searched for the sheets, the pillow, her hair, something to hold on to. The moans coming out of me were low, contained by the hotel and the group sleeping in nearby rooms, but real. Completely real.

—Like that —I whispered—. Right there, don’t stop, don’t stop.

Her fingers went in and out making an obscene wet sound. I felt how she squeezed around them. I felt the orgasm forming inside me from the bottom of my belly, rising up through my legs until it made me one taut wire.

The orgasm came sooner than I expected and left me trembling for a good while. My thighs closed over her head without my being able to control it. She kept licking slowly, drawing out the last tremors, until I had to push her head away because I couldn’t take any more.

Natalia rose slowly, kissing my abdomen, my chest, my jaw, before reaching my lips again. I tasted her in her mouth —I tasted myself in her mouth— and something inside me finally gave in completely.

I sat up. I made her lie down gently. I pulled her black lace thong down with my teeth, tugging at it, and paused for a moment looking at her naked. The promenade light illuminated the curve of her shoulder, the line of her waist, the dark tone of her skin, the shine between her legs. It was exactly the image I’d had in my head for months.

—Is this your first time with a woman? —she asked in a low voice.

—Yes —I answered.

—Do whatever you feel like —she said—. There’s nothing to do wrong.

I started with her tits because that was what I’d imagined most. I took them in my hands, learned their weight, kissed them slowly, sucked one nipple and then the other, nibbling them until they became rock hard. Natalia arched beneath my hands, letting me explore without directing me too much. I licked between her tits, went down her stomach, kissed her hip. She opened her legs for me without my asking.

And there it was: her pussy, dark and perfect, shining with desire, with the swollen clit already peeking out between the lips. The smell hit me all at once and made me even wetter.

When I lowered my mouth for the first time onto a pussy that wasn’t mine, I had a second of doubt that dissolved at the first contact. I licked her whole, learning the geography with my tongue, searching for her reaction. The sounds Natalia made erased any trace of insecurity I had left. I licked her harder, faster, until I found the rhythm that made her press her hands into the sheets.

—There —she panted—. Right there. Suck my clit.

I did as she said. I took it between my lips and sucked it the way she had sucked mine, circling it with my tongue. I slid one finger inside and felt her wet heat squeezing around me. I added another. I moved them, searching for the same spot she had found in me.

I heard her tense up and then let go. I felt her pussy contract rhythmically around my fingers. I heard her say my name in a very low voice, once, as if she hadn’t wanted to say it but couldn’t help herself.

—Valeria... fuck...

I kept licking her until she pushed me away too, laughing softly, panting.

After that, she grabbed my hips and pulled me up over her. She crossed one leg over mine and positioned me so that our pussies were pressed together, wet against wet, clit against clit. The friction was so direct that we both moaned at once. I had never done that, never felt that: the heat of another woman directly against mine, with nothing in between.

We moved together, finding a rhythm that didn’t need explaining. I pushed my hips down, she pushed hers up, our pussies sliding against each other with a wet sound that filled the room. I took one of her tits in my hand and squeezed it. She yanked my hair downward to kiss me while we kept moving.

—Don’t stop —I gasped into her mouth—. I’m going to come again.

—Me too —she said—. Come with me.

We sped up, both of us soaked, both of us panting into the other’s mouth. The second orgasm hit me harder than the first, and I felt Natalia come at the same time beneath me, trembling, her nails dug into my ass.

We stayed still, breathing hard, stuck to each other without moving, with our pussies still together and throbbing. I rested my head on her shoulder. She ran her hand through my sweat-damp hair.

***

In the morning I woke up with the sun coming through the window and Natalia still asleep beside me, naked, with one leg over mine. I looked at her for a moment before getting up quietly to find my clothes from the day before.

She opened her eyes when she heard me moving.

—Good morning —she said in a hoarse voice I hadn’t heard from her before.

—Good morning.

She sat up and started looking for her clothes among the sheets. She found her black lace thong, still damp, and held it out to me. I reached out and took her hand instead.

—This one stays with me —I said.

Natalia looked at me for a second and then smiled without saying anything. She took mine, the white cotton ones stained from the night before, and tucked them into her bag. We dressed in silence, that comfortable silence that doesn’t need filling.

On the train back, Diego asked me with his eyes how it had gone. I told him enough. The rest was mine.

I kept the black lace thong in the side pocket of my backpack and, for the rest of the trip, every time I thought about the night before —about Natalia’s tongue between my legs, about the taste of her pussy in my mouth, about the rubbing of our clits together— I felt something that was not exactly guilt and not exactly nostalgia either. It was more like the certainty of having confirmed something I’d always known about myself, something I had only lived in my imagination for years.

Only now it wasn’t a fantasy anymore.