What Lucía Asked Me for on That Deserted Beach

There are memories you keep in a drawer you almost never open, and this is one of them. I’m telling it as it happened, without embellishment, because even now, so many years later, it still gets me hard just writing it.

I met Lucía on the first day of university, in the endless line for enrollment. She had long curly hair, dark eyes with a slightly slanted shape, and a face so delicate it looked as if it had been drawn with a compass. I had just turned twenty-two; she was twenty. It was enough for her to smile at me over her shoulder for me to lose the thread of what I was saying.

I was lucky enough that she liked me too. Five minutes into talking, we were already teasing each other as if we’d known one another all our lives, and before we reached the desk we’d already made plans to grab a drink that same afternoon.

Despite being younger, Lucía was the one who had her head straight. I was a bundle of aimless impulses; she knew exactly what she wanted and at what pace. From the beginning, she was the one leading the way, and I was happy to let myself be guided.

We devoured each other with kisses on every corner. She let me touch her up to a point, and when I pushed a little further, she stopped me dead with a smile that was half mockery, half promise.

—All in good time —she’d say—. Don’t be so impatient, Mateo.

Those first few months were a delicious torture. We spent afternoons in her building entrance, in my car inherited from my brother, on park benches when there was no light left. I learned to read her body before her words: when she tensed, when she yielded, when her breathing grew heavy and I knew she’d let me go one step further before stopping me. It was a game she controlled and I accepted, because every centimeter gained felt like a treasure.

I remember one night in a small bar downtown, one of those places with red light and eighties music. We were in a secluded corner where hardly anyone came by. She was wearing a light dress above the knee, and when I slipped my hand under the fabric I found her burning hot, her breathing broken against my neck.

I went a little higher and brushed her panties through the fabric. They were soaked. I pushed the elastic aside with two fingers and went straight into her wet pussy, without warning. She jolted and dug her nails into my shoulder, but she spread her legs a little wider to make room for me. I started moving my fingers slowly, searching for her clit with my thumb while her heart hammered against my arm.

—Stay still —she whispered through clenched teeth—. If you make me come here, I’ll kill you.

But she didn’t pull her hips away; on the contrary, she pressed them very slowly against my hand. I was about to burst. I could feel my cock pressing against my zipper, that dull tension that only went away later, back home, alone, jerking off while thinking about her. But that night something different happened.

—Have you ever done it? —she asked in my ear, almost voiceless.

—No, I already told you. Never. Why are you asking me again?

—Because if I ever find out you were with another girl, you’ll have me to answer to —she said, and bit my earlobe with a tenderness that contradicted the threat.

—No, silly. I’m yours, plain and simple.

And I meant it. I would have signed whatever she put in front of me.

—Let me relieve you —she whispered—. I want to do it myself. I told you I didn’t want to fuck yet, but this I do want. I want to feel you come in my hand.

Without giving me time to answer, she pulled down my zipper, slipped her hand through the opening in my briefs, and took out my cock, hard as a rock. I looked around on instinct, but nobody was looking toward our corner; the red light hid almost everything. I felt her cold fingers close around my glans and a gasp escaped my throat before I could stifle it.

—Shh —she laughed into my ear—. They’ll hear you. You like it, don’t you?

—Fuck, Lucía…

She started moving her fist up and down, awkward at first, setting a rhythm that quickly settled into place. She spat into her palm without giving a damn and grabbed me again, and that second time her hand slid all the way down my shaft with a wet sound that blurred my vision. I found her breast over the dress and squeezed it without mercy, feeling the hard nipple under my thumb. I pulled one strap aside and lowered the fabric just enough to pinch her breast skin to skin, and a low moan slipped from her that went straight through me.

—Harder —I asked, voice breaking—. Squeeze it harder, fuck.

She closed her fist with intent and sped up. Her other hand slipped under my balls and cupped them carefully, weighing them, and at that moment I knew I wasn’t going to last much longer. For an instant I thought she was going to lean in and take me in her mouth, and just thinking about it almost made me cum. But that would have been asking too much, and I settled for what I had: the most beautiful girl I’d ever imagined, jerking me off in the dim light with her tits out while the music throbbed in the background.

I left a purple mark on her neck with my lips, biting her so I wouldn’t shout. She answered with a low moan, close to my ear.

—Come now, Mateo. Come in my hand. I want to see it.

Everything together was too much. I came apart between her fingers with a force that took both of us by surprise, hot spurts soaking her palm, her wrist, and even the bottom of the dress. She kept stroking me slowly until the very last drop, her mouth open as she watched what was pouring out of me, fascinated. We stayed still, laughing quietly at the mess, while she wiped her fingers on a crumpled napkin from the ashtray. Accomplices in something that belonged only to us.

That night, back home, I couldn’t sleep. I jerked off twice more thinking about her, replaying every second again and again: the smell of her hair, the exact pressure of her fist, the look on her face as my cum fell into her hand. I understood that everything with her was different, that what I felt was nothing like any of the teenage rushes I’d known. Lucía wasn’t giving me her body in pieces on a whim; she was handing it over the way someone writes a long letter, knowing the ending would be worth the wait.

***

Two weeks later we slipped away to a hidden cove she knew, far from beach bars and umbrellas. It was May, the sun was bright but the water was still biting cold, and the beach was completely empty. There wasn’t a soul for miles.

I tried to act brave and went into the sea. I got far colder than I’d expected, but seeing her lying on her towel, sunbathing like a mermaid, made me want to endure anything.

When I came out of the water, shivering and with blue lips, I found her adjusting her bikini, settling the cups with those lazy movements of someone who doesn’t expect anyone to be watching. And without thinking twice I went over to her and started kissing her all over, my skin still cold and salty.

—You’re freezing —she protested between laughs, not pushing me away.

The sun warmed her skin while my mouth traveled over her, and the combination of the two temperatures made her shiver. But what really gave me wings was her face: her eyes were half-closed, wearing an expression of surrender I had never seen in her, and a rough, soft sound rose from her chest every time my lips went a little lower.

She put her hand on the back of my neck, not so much to caress me as to guide me. She wanted to mark out the path. And I, for once, decided not to obey completely: I stretched out the wait in order to stretch out the pleasure too.

I worked my way through every inch without rushing, as if I had the whole summer ahead of me. I kissed the curve of her shoulder, the warm hollow of her collarbone, the gentle line of her ribs. The sound of the waves drowned out her moans and returned them mixed with the wind, and for a moment I felt that cove existed only for us, that the world had been left outside that small patch of sand.

I stopped at her navel, and by chance discovered a trigger neither of us knew existed. A jolt shot through her whole body. She started moaning in a new, desperate way, and those moans grew louder as my mouth slowly traveled up to her breasts.

I pulled the bikini fabric aside in one tug and gave myself over to them without rushing. I had never had anything so warm or so soft between my lips. I caught one nipple with my tongue and sucked hard, and she arched so much that her lower back lifted off the towel. I bit the soft flesh of her breast, ran my tongue around the areola, sucked her nipple until it stood hard as stone, and she began to mutter nonsense under her breath. She reacted by arching, saying no with her voice while her body was screaming at me to keep going, never stop for anything.

—Please —she gasped at last, eyes shining—. Lower. Get down there. Eat it, Mateo, please.

She didn’t need to repeat it. I hooked my fingers into the bikini bottoms and pulled them down over her thighs, her knees, her ankles, until she was completely naked on the towel. She opened her legs shamelessly, with an impatience that surprised me, and for the first time I found myself face to face with her pussy in broad daylight: pink, glossy, with soft dark hair trimmed into a triangle, and lips already swollen and parted from how wet she was.

I knelt between her legs and took a second to look at her. Only a second, because she pulled me down by the nape of my neck, demanding.

I gave her the first full lick, long, from bottom to top, flattening her clit with my tongue at the end. Lucía let out a cry that the wind carried away and pressed my head against her pussy with both hands. She tasted of sea and something denser, sweeter, more hers. I parted her lips with my thumbs and slid my tongue all the way in, as deep as I could, moving it up and down and in circles while I searched for her clit with my nose.

I found her so ready, so surrendered, that it took me a second to believe it. I sucked her clit with my lips, took it carefully between them and started moving my head slowly, up and down, as if I were sucking her off. She rode my face without a shred of shame, pushing her pelvis against my mouth, panting obscenities I had never heard from her before.

—Yes, like that, don’t stop, fuck, eat it all, deeper, more, more…

I slipped two fingers inside her while I kept eating her out, and curled them upward, searching for that spot that’s supposed to exist. I must have found it, because her whole body convulsed and she started clamping down on my fingers inside her with brutal strength. I don’t have the exact words to describe it, and it wasn’t a matter of words anyway: it was the hunger of two beginners who had been holding back for months and were finally letting go completely.

Lucía’s scream, I’m convinced, could be heard across the cove. She closed her thighs over my head with enough force to leave me breathless for a moment, and stayed trembling, clutching the towel, repeating my name as if it were the only thing she could remember. I felt her pussy pulsing against my tongue, long deep contractions, and a hot gush soaked my chin. She was coming hard, with no brakes.

***

When she finally calmed down, she pulled me toward her and kissed me slowly, sucking her own juices from my lips and chin, not caring what they tasted like. We stayed tangled up on the towel, listening to the sea, our skin prickling at the contrast between the sun and the breeze. We didn’t say anything for a long while; there was no need.

A good while later, lying there in the sun and catching our breath, she confessed that it had been hundreds of times better than she had imagined. That she wanted one just like it every day. That she wanted it with me and no one else.

And then, looking at the sea with a new smile, she told me what she had been turning over in her head for weeks.

—Waiting that long was stupid —she murmured—. I want you to fuck me. Here. This very morning.

My breath caught.

—Are you sure?

—I’ve never been surer of anything —she said, and slipped her hand inside my swim trunks to grab my cock, which was already hard again against her hip—. I want to feel this inside me. I want to know what it’s like. But first let me get a little more sun. I’ve earned it.

I laughed, still hardly believing it, and let her rest. I sat back against a rock, the Mediterranean behind me and half a sandwich in my hand, watching her lie there in the sun with her eyes closed, her tits out and her pussy still shining between her parted thighs.

What more could I ask for?

That morning I gave her what she asked for. When she looked at me again, she held out her hand and pulled me down over her, and I parted her legs with my knee and rubbed the head of my cock all over her cunt slit until it was thoroughly wet. She guided me herself with her hand, placing the tip at her entrance, and pushed her hips upward so I would enter her. I went in slowly, feeling how her tight pussy swallowed me centimeter by centimeter, feeling that resistance give way and open beneath my advance. Lucía closed her eyes and held her breath in a broken gasp, digging her nails into my back, until I was fully inside her.

—Move —she whispered—. Fuck me, Mateo, please.

And I fucked her. At first slowly, learning her rhythm, then harder, driving in with all my hips while she wrapped her legs around me and dug her heels into my ass so I wouldn’t stop. I grabbed one breast with one hand and planted the other in the sand beside her head, and there we were, sweating under the sun, until I felt her tighten around me again from the inside and came inside her with a growl lost in the sound of the waves. With no witnesses but the sea. And although life later carried us down different paths, even today, when I smell salt air and feel the strong sun on my skin, I go back to that cove and to that girl who decided, in a low voice and in her own way, that the moment had arrived.