What Happened in That Alley I Had Never Told

It had been months since the two of us had gone out alone. Camila had booked a table at a bistro in the new neighborhood, one block before the square, and she dressed in that red skirt that cinched her waist. I didn’t ask her why she’d put it on. There was no need to ask.

During dinner we talked about silly things: the move still pending, the trip to the coast we’d been putting off since summer, a series she wanted to finish before the end of the month. But there was something different in the way she settled into the chair, in the way she crossed and uncrossed her legs every time the waiter came by the table.

—I have a secret —she told me as she poured herself a second glass of Malbec.

—What is it?

—When you figure it out, you won’t be able to concentrate on dessert.

She smiled and crossed her legs again. This time she lowered her gaze to her own skirt, for just a second, like an involuntary gesture. And I knew.

She wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

The rest of dinner cost me normal breathing. I asked for the bill before coffee. She let out a little laugh when she saw my face, as if she’d been waiting for exactly that moment for hours.

—You won the dessert that quickly? —she asked when we paid.

—I’m choosing the dessert tonight.

We left the place and walked toward the parking lot, two blocks farther on. The street was practically empty: on a Tuesday at eleven, in a residential neighborhood, there wasn’t much going on. Halfway there, we passed a service alley, that narrow passage between two buildings where they leave the dumpsters. Without meaning to, I slowed down. She did too.

—Are you thinking what I’m thinking? —I murmured.

—I’ve been thinking it since we left the house.

***

The alley was narrow and dark. At the far end, a yellow light flickered over the closed door of a storage room. The smell of damp mixed with the jasmine climbing the wall of the building on the left. Halfway down the passage, where the darkness was almost complete, I stopped her by resting my hand on her hip.

—Here —I said.

Camila didn’t answer. She braced both hands against the wall, spread a handspan wider than her shoulders. Then she backed her feet up until her back was arched and her ass was offered back toward me. It was a practiced pose, as if she’d rehearsed it mentally all through dinner. She probably had.

I crouched behind her. My head was level with her hips. With both hands I slowly lifted her red skirt until her ass was bare. The yellow light from the far end barely illuminated the curve of her buttocks, and the rest disappeared into shadow.

I got dizzy for a second.

—Move your hips —I asked her quietly—. Like you’re looking for me.

She did. A minimal movement, almost imperceptible, but enough to confirm that she was as hot as I was. My hands seized both buttocks, spread them, brought them together again, squeezed them. Camila let out a trembling sigh. I knew that foreplay softened everything inside her even before the first caress.

I brought my nose to her sex without touching it. The smell hit me before the sight: salty, warm, with that particular note that only appears when she’s been getting wet in silence for hours. She’d been ready for a long time. The whole dinner had been the prelude.

I pulled her ass apart again, this time with my thumbs, and I opened her inner lips too. There, in the dimness, her flesh gleamed wet. I still didn’t touch her. I pressed my lips together and blew over her, slowly, as if I were about to whistle a very slow melody. The skin on her ass and thighs prickled. I felt the shiver climb her spine before I heard the sigh.

—Please —she murmured without turning her face.

***

I stuck out the tip of my tongue and barely touched the edge of her clit. Camila threw her head back and let out a long “oh my God,” stretching the last syllable until she ran out of breath in her lungs. Her voice bounced off the wall and disappeared into the alley ceiling. No one could hear us, or at least that was what I wanted to believe at that moment.

I started licking from bottom to top, in broad, slow strokes, as if I didn’t want to miss a single drop of what she’d been holding back all night. Her thighs started trembling on the fourth or fifth pass. I held her buttocks with both hands, kneading the flesh while my mouth worked without pause.

When her whole crotch was already soaked with her fluids and my saliva, I gathered my tongue to a point and pushed it inside as far as I could. It didn’t go in much, but she felt it perfectly: she arched her back more, pressed my face against her sex, and my nose sank into the warm hollow between the two curves.

—More —she begged.

She opened her legs even wider, making room for me. I took advantage of the new angle to bring my tongue up to her clit, which was already swollen and hard. I made slow circles first, then fast ones, then sucked gently. Each change in rhythm tore a different sound from her. In silence, I learned which combination worked best for her that night.

Her legs trembled with a new intensity. I was about to make her come right there, but I stopped. I didn’t want her to finish so soon. She understood: she growled in frustration and shoved her hips back, looking for me again.

—Easy —I told her—. The best part’s still to come.

***

I licked her again from bottom to top, but this time my tongue kept going up to the other opening, the tighter one. Camila moaned loudly and slapped the wall with her open palm. My chin was dripping.

—Want more? —I asked.

—Yes.

—Say it properly.

—I want more.

I let go of one buttock and sucked my middle finger. I lowered it slowly and slid it gently into her vagina. She was so soaked she offered no resistance. Camila pushed her hips back to feel me deeper. I pulled it out, wet it again with saliva, and went in with two fingers. Meanwhile, my tongue kept working up top, never losing the rhythm.

I curled the two fingers slightly forward, looking for the spot that drove her crazy, the one I only found at certain angles. When I found it, I knew at once: she let out a single breathless “there, there, there.” The palm of my hand bounced against her clit every time I thrust, and my tongue had climbed back to her ass.

—If you keep this up I’m going to die —she gasped.

—That’s the idea.

I added a third finger. The alley started to boil between the two of us. My erection pressed against my pants with an almost painful force, but it wasn’t my turn yet. I wanted her to come first, hard, before the night ended or we got caught or anything else happened.

I pulled my fingers out for a second and took them to my mouth. The taste was thick, almost mineral, with the warm trace of the Malbec she’d drunk during dinner. I put my fingers back in at once, before she could protest the break.

***

Camila wasn’t controlling her breathing anymore. She rested her forehead against the cold wall, and sweat ran down her back, wetting the collar of her top. The contrast between the icy wall and the heat pooled between her legs was driving her crazy. I could feel it in the way every muscle tightened.

—You’re close —I told her, not as a question but as a statement.

—Very close —she answered with a broken voice.

Then I tried something new. I pulled my fingers out of her vagina, left my middle and ring fingers inside, and with my index finger I gently probed the other side. She tensed for an instant, then relaxed. It was a clear invitation.

The finger went in carefully, helped by the wetness already running down her thigh. Camila let out a new sound, sharp, almost childlike, and pushed her hips back as if she wanted to swallow all three fingers at once.

—Fuck me like this —she said, completely unfiltered now.

I set the rhythm. The three fingers went in and out at the same time; my tongue went wherever it could, licking what wasn’t occupied. Her “yes, yes, yes” became one drawn-out word, and the movements of her hips started to lose coordination, to become pure instinct.

It was like waiting for the final discharge of an electrical storm. You feel the air charging before the blast, and when it comes you can’t do anything but watch and take the hit.

***

Camila’s body jolted from top to bottom. Her legs opened so wide I thought she was going to lose her balance. She screamed something that wasn’t a word, then screamed my name, then stopped screaming altogether.

And she came.

But it wasn’t an orgasm like the ones we knew. Something gave way inside and a warm jet hit my chin and neck. I closed my eyes by instinct, though that didn’t stop it from soaking my shirt all the way to my pecs. By the time the second wave hit, even the knees of my pants were wet.

Camila stayed still, forehead against the wall, breathing as if she’d run ten blocks straight. I stayed crouched behind her, not daring to move, listening to her.

—You son of a bitch —she finally whispered, laughing—. Look what you made me do.

—Look what you made yourself do —I answered—. I just followed the red skirt.

I stood up with aching knees. I pulled her skirt down as best I could, though she was still dripping. We left the alley half stumbling, looking both ways in case someone had seen us. The street was still empty. If someone heard anything from a window, they had the decency not to stick their head out.

We ran to the car. Inside, I found a pack of paper tissues in the glove compartment and handed them to her. She laughed while trying to dry her thighs, with little success.

—You’re going to have to drive —she said—. I can’t feel my legs.

—That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.

***

I drove home with her smell still clinging to my face, my hands, my shirt. Camila fell asleep ten minutes later, her head against the window and a smile she couldn’t quite wipe off her face. I looked at her two or three times at every traffic light. I was thinking about the red skirt, about the alley, about the cold wall against her palms, about the contrast between that cold and all the heat that had gathered between her legs.

This happened almost a year ago. I hadn’t told anyone until today. Camila doesn’t know I’m writing this. If she ever reads it, I hope she laughs like she did that night.

And then takes me to another alley.