What I Found in the Country When I Was Left Alone

My name is Daniela, I’m a little over forty, and although it’s hard for me to admit it, I’m still a woman who attracts attention. I take care of my body, I make an effort with my appearance, and my husband was never the jealous type. The freedom he gave me was always a double-edged sword, and this weekend proved it.

It all started with an invitation. The father of a friend of Andrés, my husband, owned a country estate inland and had spent weeks insisting that we come stay for a couple of days. I’d never been particularly enthusiastic about the countryside, but between the two of them they convinced me, and I ended up climbing into the pickup reluctantly.

The journey was long and exhausting. The road was in terrible condition, and by the time we reached Don Marcelo’s house, my back was already tied in knots. He welcomed us with a table set beneath a veranda, red wine, and some ice-cold beers. The afternoon grew more pleasant, fatigue overcame us, and we dropped exhausted into bed before eleven.

—We’re going into town early tomorrow —Andrés said as he got into bed—. We need to buy supplies. You get some rest.

And that’s what I did. I slept like I hadn’t slept in months.

***

When I woke up, the two men had already left. The house was wrapped in an enormous silence, that country silence that feels uncomfortable at first and then becomes addictive. I made myself a coffee, went out onto the veranda, and looked at the hills stretching beyond the fence. I had the whole morning to myself.

I put on some brightly colored leggings, a light white blouse, and a pair of brown boots I’d brought just in case. I decided a walk would do me good and loosen up my body. I crossed the gate and took a dirt path that wound between the trees.

I walked for quite a while without thinking about anything. The sun was beating down, but the path was dotted with shade, and every so often I could hear water from a nearby stream. The air smelled of cut grass and damp earth, and for the first time in a long while I felt far away from everything: the phone, the house, the obligations that had been suffocating me in the city without my even realizing it. That was when I saw him for the first time.

He was coming on horseback, slowly, along one side of the field. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with a dark, slightly disheveled mane and skin weathered by the sun. He fixed me with his gaze without saying a word, and I held it longer than I should have before quickening my pace. My heart was pounding hard, and it wasn’t because of the walk.

I recognized him at once. He was the young man who had been walking around the estate the night before, the one who did work for Don Marcelo. What a fool you are, Daniela, I told myself, everything shows on your face.

I continued on until the path opened into a clearing with a stream of crystal-clear water. I sat on a rock to rest, wet my neck and arms, and let the breeze dry me. I was so absorbed that I didn’t hear him approach.

—Do you like the place? —a voice said behind me.

I turned around abruptly. It was him, without the horse, standing a few yards away with his hands in his pockets and a half smile.

—It’s beautiful —I replied, trying to keep my voice from trembling—. I didn’t know there was anyone around here.

—I know every corner of this land. —He approached slowly, measuring every step, giving me all the time in the world to tell him to stop—. I saw you at the estate last night. You’re Don Marcelo’s guest’s wife.

—Daniela —I said, holding out my hand.

—Tobías. —He squeezed it firmly and didn’t let go right away.

We stayed that way, looking at each other while the stream continued to run. There was something about the way he watched me that raised gooseflesh all over my skin. It wasn’t an aggressive look; it was a patient look, belonging to someone who knew how to wait. And I, who had spent years following the same routine, felt my stomach fill with something I hadn’t felt in a long time. I also felt, unable to stop it, my nipples hardening beneath the thin blouse, and I knew he could see it.

I was surprised at myself. In my ordinary life, I was the proper woman, the one who smiled at dinners and came home early. But there, sitting on a rock beside a stranger with the sun filtering through the trees, that woman seemed to belong to someone else. Andrés was miles away, in a dusty town buying flour and nails, and for once I didn’t think about him. I thought about Tobías’s big, callused hands, and what they would feel like squeezing my ass.

—I should go back —I said, even though I didn’t move.

—Not yet —he replied, sitting down on the rock beside me.

***

We talked about silly things for quite a while. The horses, the land, why a city woman would end up walking alone along a lost trail. But the words were only an excuse. Every time I laughed, he looked at my mouth. Every time I brushed a lock of hair from my face, I looked at his hands, and also at the bulge outlined by his worn trousers, which he made no effort to hide.

At one point, a silence fell. One of those silences that have weight. Tobías placed his hand on my knee, slowly, without pressure, giving me the chance to move it away. Then he slid it upward, palm open, along the inside of my thigh, over the leggings, until I felt the heat of his fingers brushing my pussy through the fabric.

I didn’t move it away. On the contrary, I spread my legs a little farther.

—Tell me to stop and I’ll stop —he murmured.

—I don’t want you to stop —I said, surprised by the sound of my own voice.

He kissed me. It was a slow kiss at first, exploratory, and then deeper, hungrier, his tongue slipping into my mouth as if it knew exactly what it was looking for. He tasted of sun and countryside. I ran my hands over his back and felt the tense muscles beneath his shirt. He took me by the waist and sat me astride his legs, and I let myself go as I hadn’t let myself go with anyone in years. Beneath me I felt his hard cock pressing against me, and without realizing it I began rubbing myself against it, moving my pelvis in slow circles that stole my breath.

Tobías slipped his hands beneath my blouse and yanked my bra upward. He squeezed my tits with those rough hands, pinched my nipples until I moaned, and then lowered his mouth and began sucking them, one first, then the other, barely biting, tugging the tips with his teeth until I arched against him.

—Not here —I said against his mouth, panting—. Someone could come by.

—My house is close. —He looked me in the eyes, then took one of my hands and placed it over his bulge, leaving no doubt—. If you want.

I nodded without thinking, squeezing his cock through his trousers.

***

His house was a humble structure with a low roof and adobe walls, containing a single narrow bed pushed against the wall. It smelled of firewood and wet earth. As soon as we crossed the threshold, he kissed me again, this time without hurry, while pulling my blouse over my head and unfastening my bra in one motion. I stood there with my tits bare in the middle of that country room, and he took a step back to look at me.

—You’re beautiful —he said, his voice hoarse—. Take everything off.

I stopped him for a second, pressing my palm against his chest.

—I haven’t done anything like this in a long time —I confessed.

—We’ll take it slowly —he said, moving my hair aside to kiss my neck while pulling down my leggings and panties together, dragging the fabric down my legs until I was completely naked.

He made me take a step back and looked me up and down, unhurried, as if deciding where to begin. Then he took off his shirt. He had a broad chest, a flat stomach shaped by farm work, and a line of dark hair running down from his navel. He opened his trousers and let them fall. His cock sprang free, hard and thick, bigger than I’d expected, its tip already glistening. My mouth watered just looking at it.

I knelt without him asking me to. I grabbed his cock with my right hand; I could barely close it all the way around it. I held it for a second, looking closely at it and feeling its weight and heat. I ran my tongue along the underside, from his balls to the tip, slowly, and heard him let out a sharp breath. Then I took it into my mouth, as much of it as I could, and began sucking him hungrily, with years of pent-up desire, using my hand on the part that wouldn’t fit. I sucked, pulled back, licked it all over, then took it into my mouth again. I covered his cock in saliva, drool running down my chin, and he grabbed the back of my head and began setting the pace, pushing my head against his pelvis until my eyes filled with tears.

—You suck so good, fuck —he growled—. Don’t stop.

I didn’t want to stop. I liked feeling him pulsing against my tongue, hearing his breathing grow more and more broken, knowing that for a while that cock was mine. I sucked his balls too, one by one, with my flat tongue, while working his cock with my hand, and he let out a long moan that echoed through the empty room.

He pulled me up by the arms before he came. He laid me down on the cot and took his time with every part of my body, as if we had the whole afternoon ahead of us. He kissed my shoulders, the center of my chest, my stomach. He opened my legs with his hands, looked at my soaked pussy for a few seconds, and then lowered his face and began eating me out. I buried my fingers in that dark mane and let sounds escape me that I didn’t recognize as my own.

He knew how to lick. He knew exactly how. He ran his tongue all the way up and down, from my slit to my clitoris, and stayed there making slow circles, sucking my clit with his lips as if it were a piece of candy. He pushed two thick fingers inside me and began moving them curled upward while continuing to lick me, and I felt my legs begin to tremble on their own. The old bed creaked with every movement, and far from making me uncomfortable, the sound turned me on even more.

—Oh, yes, like that, like that —I moaned, grabbing his head and pressing his face against my cunt—. You’re going to make me come, Tobías, you’re going to make me come.

He made me come. I had a long, shuddering orgasm that made me clamp my legs around his ears while he kept licking me mercilessly, prolonging it, until I had to push him away because I couldn’t take any more. He rose with his mouth glistening, wiped it with the back of his hand, and smiled.

—The best part is still to come —he said.

When I couldn’t stand it any longer, I reached for him with my hand and guided him. He rested against my entrance, rubbing the tip against my clitoris for a while, soaking himself thoroughly in my juices, and then began pushing slowly. I felt him enter little by little, inch by inch, attentive to my reaction, stopping whenever I drew breath. He was thick, opening me completely, and I had to breathe deeply twice before I got used to him.

—All the way, put it all the way in —I begged.

He thrust forward in one motion and buried himself in me to the base. I screamed against his shoulder. He stayed still inside me, letting me feel him, and then the rhythm grew firmer, deeper. He pulled almost all the way out and drove back into me, harder and faster each time, and I gripped the bedposts while my whole body shook. The cot slammed against the wall with every thrust, my tits bounced against my chest, and he looked down at me with his teeth clenched, fucking me without hurry but without mercy.

—Like that —I begged—. Don’t stop. Fuck me hard.

He didn’t stop. He grabbed my ankles and raised my legs until he could press them against his chest, and from that angle his cock entered me differently, deeper, touching a spot that made me see stars. He was pounding me hard, without mercy, and I loved it, begging him for more in a broken voice, telling him filthy things I had never said to Andrés.

—Give me your cock, give me all of it, break me —I told him, and he chuckled under his breath and gave it to me, harder and harder, until the entire room smelled of sex.

He turned me over carefully and positioned me on my knees against the cot, my ass raised and my face pressed into the rough pillow. He whispered in my ear, asking if I wanted it, and when I said yes, he grabbed my hips and drove into me again with one thrust. I felt him in a new way, more intense, deeper, pulling a long, hoarse moan from me. He drove into me with both hands on my waist, pulling me backward with every thrust, making my ass collide with his pelvis with a wet sound that filled the room.

Tobías was patient and brutal at the same time; he knew exactly when to speed up and when to take his time. He would stop abruptly with his cock buried completely inside me, rolling his hips and stirring it inside me, letting me feel every inch. Then he would give me a series of quick, hard thrusts, including a slap on one cheek, and stop again just as I was about to come. He kept me on the edge, playing with me. Every spasm of pleasure left me breathless, and he noticed, and played on it.

—Please —I begged him, my voice unrecognizable—. Make me come again, don’t make me wait.

He slid one hand beneath my stomach and found my clitoris with two fingers while continuing to fuck me from behind at a steady pace. He rubbed it quickly, in circles, and I felt myself coming again, harder than the first time, an orgasm that rose from the depths of my pussy and traveled up my entire back. I finished trembling, squeezing his cock with spasms, my face buried in the rough pillow and a long moan escaping against the fabric.

—I’m going to come —he panted—. Where?

—Not inside —I managed to say—. On my back, on my ass, wherever you want, but not inside.

He pulled out at the last moment, and I felt hot jets fall across my waist and buttocks, thick and one after another, while he let out a hoarse moan and squeezed my hips hard enough to leave the marks of his fingers. He collapsed onto my back, breathing unevenly, his cock still pulsing, smearing the semen between our skin. We stayed like that, pressed together and sweaty, without saying a word, listening to the crickets beginning to sing outside.

***

Afterward we bathed in the stream, laughing like two teenagers who had just met. The cold water slowly brought me back to reality, although when I saw his limp cock hanging between his legs, something stirred in my belly again. While we were getting dressed, I checked the time on my phone and realized it had gotten very late.

—I have to get back before my husband arrives —I said.

Tobías nodded without reproach. He walked me along the path until the estate came into view in the distance, then stopped.

—This is as far as I go —he said.

I kissed him one last time, a soft goodbye kiss, and walked the final yards alone, still feeling the burning between my legs and his dampness running down my thigh. When I entered the house, Andrés and Don Marcelo still hadn’t returned. I spent some time under the shower, cleaned myself thoroughly, poured myself a glass of water, sat on the veranda, and tried to put what had just happened in order.

I didn’t feel guilty. That was the part I found hardest to accept. I felt light, my skin awakened, my pussy swollen, and a smile that wouldn’t go away. That same night, when Andrés hugged me in his sleep, I stared at the ceiling thinking of a field, a stream, and a stranger who knew how to wait—and of Tobías’s hard cock, which I could still feel between my legs.

I’ve never told anyone about this. I’m writing it now because there are things a woman needs to get out of herself, even if it’s only in front of strangers. And if you enjoyed it, perhaps one day I’ll dare to tell you what happened the second time we returned to that estate.