When everyone had gone, she brought out the good wine

Marta and I had been working together for more than fifteen years at the same logistics company in Lanzarote. From day one she’d treated me as if we’d known each other all our lives, and that, coming from someone who arrived from elsewhere like I did, meant a great deal more than I ever told her at the time.

Over the years we’d built something that sometimes takes more than any romantic relationship: real trust. Dinners after work, Friday beers, the odd concert, and many hours of conversation had woven between us a friendship that didn’t need constant maintenance to stay standing.

I’d told her things I hadn’t even told my brother. The afternoon my ex-wife asked me for a divorce, the experiences we’d had before everything broke apart, my doubts about whether to stay on the island or go back to the mainland. In return, she’d told me about the years she spent alone with her newborn daughter when her partner disappeared without warning, how drink had nearly dragged her under, the tattoos she got in those days and now preferred not to look at too closely. We kept nothing back because we’d never needed to protect ourselves from each other.

Every dark story ended with a light one. Every confession, with laughter. It had been that way from the beginning, and we both knew that was why it had lasted so long without breaking.

For several years now, at the start of summer, Marta organized a meal in the garden at her house. It was a tradition no one wanted to miss. She always ordered the rice from the same restaurant in the harbor, and the white wine, beer, and ice cream for dessert did the rest. Lunch started late, waiting for those coming off the morning shift, who in turn waited for those from the previous shift, who had stopped for aperitifs. The drawbacks of working for a company that never stops.

That Saturday in mid-July was especially hot. The younger ones had the pool to themselves from first thing in the morning. Two interns were trying to impress the new HR technician and a woman from administration who’d only been with us a short time. The two women laughed at them from the edge, feet in the water, with no intention of taking the bait.

The rest of us moved between the table and the pool, between conversation and food, while the sun slowly sank until the after-lunch lull became something no one wanted to end. More than one person had had a beer too many, and the youngest kept splashing about as if they were twelve.

I’d been watching her all day. She was wearing a long dress made of lightweight fabric that moved with the breeze, and underneath you could make out the one-piece swimsuit she’d put on in the morning. Every time she bent down to pick something up from the table, the fabric clung to her ass and showed me the whole shape of it, round and generous. Every time she came near me, my gaze followed her without my consciously deciding to do it. And I think she knew, because more than once she’d caught me staring at her tits or her hips and not once had she looked away. She’d just smiled at me sideways, as if to say, “Keep looking, I don’t mind.”

Little by little, the guests began leaving. First those with small children, then those who’d drunk too much and wanted a siesta, then those who claimed that with the leftovers they’d already be going home having eaten dinner. When I realized it, the garden had gone silent. Only Marta and I were left.

—Aren’t you going? —she asked me as she was clearing glasses from the table.

—No, I’ll help you tidy up. You’ve got plenty of work ahead of you before this looks halfway presentable —I replied.

The truth was, I had no real reason to stay. But I had no reason to leave either, especially with my cock half-hard for the last three hours inside my swim trunks.

—Don’t worry, this year people have been very civic-minded —she said, gesturing at the garden—. There’s hardly anything left to do.

It was true. The guests had been tidying as they left, and the garden was in better shape than you’d expect after eight hours of partying. We finished clearing up in twenty minutes between the two of us, tying up bags and stacking the last folding chairs.

—Still, we’d better sweep a bit. Otherwise the garden will be swarming with ants tomorrow —I told her.

—If you insist... the broom’s in the front room, on the left. I’m not about to spoil your fun.

When I came back with the broom, she wasn’t in the garden. I found her coming out through the kitchen sliding door with a bottle in her hand. A bottle covered in condensation that looked nothing like the ones we’d gone through at lunch. In her other hand she carried two fine crystal glasses, the good ones, the ones that only come out of the cupboard for special occasions.

—I think I’d rather have this than sweep —she said, setting the bottle and the glasses on the table.

I took the corkscrew from her hand and opened the bottle while she sat down. The cork came out cleanly.

—I didn’t see any of these during lunch —I said.

—Of course not. If I put it on the table with everyone else, someone would mix it with soda. I don’t have the patience for that kind of nonsense.

I smiled as I poured the two glasses. The wine was cold, very light, and damn good. We sat facing the darkened garden, drinking slowly, in no hurry at all. The night smelled of warm earth and jasmine.

—You’ve been very quiet today —she said after a while.

—I was concentrating.

—On what?

I paused.

—Work —I said.

The truth was I’d spent hours imagining her naked, imagining myself fucking her from behind while she held on to that same table.

She gave a smile without looking at me. We both knew that was a lie.

***

The garden was almost dark. The automatic porch lights had come on a while earlier and cast a warm glow over the edge of the pool, leaving the water in a bluish half-light.

—Come on, give me the glass and get in —she said, standing up.

She pulled the dress off over her head in one motion and left it folded on the chair. She left her sandals underneath. She took the two glasses, went down the pool steps carefully, and moved forward until the water reached her waist. She dove under, came up on the other side, and turned to look at me from there.

—The water’s perfect. Bring the glasses.

I took off my T-shirt and shoes and went down the steps. The water was still warm from the day’s sun, with just a hint of coolness at the bottom. I swam over to where she was, and when I surfaced she held out a glass to me.

We toasted without saying a word.

We stayed like that for a while, moving slowly through the water, getting a little closer to each other each time. Our voices lowered on their own, as if the dark garden were asking us to speak in whispers. We talked about anything and everything. The heat, the summer, the holidays neither of us had quite finished planning. We’d talked about going to Tenerife together when our shifts lined up and gave us several free days. Maybe that summer.

At one point, she set her glass on the edge and, with her back to me, slipped the straps of her swimsuit down. Her breasts dropped below the waterline. I watched her finish taking off the swimsuit and toss it out of the pool.

—This swimsuit’s been trapping me since eleven this morning —she said, turning to me as naturally as anything.

And there they were, barely veiled by the dimness of the water: two big white tits, with dark nipples already hard from the coolness. I could do nothing but take my swim trunks off too and throw them to the edge. The cock that had been teasing me for hours went fully hard the moment the fabric stopped holding it in.

We looked at each other. In the water, in that light, with the wine and the silence of the garden, everything we’d been accumulating for months suddenly became very obvious. Her hand brushed mine under the water. It was no accident. She went a few centimeters lower and took my cock in her open palm, not squeezing, just weighing it, checking how hard I had it.

—Fuck —she murmured—. I’d been wondering for a while whether you were like this.

—Since coffee break —I admitted.

We moved closer. When we kissed, it wasn’t timid or exploratory. It was the kiss of someone who’s wanted to do it for a long time and no longer sees any reason to keep waiting. I bit her lower lip and slid my tongue deep into her mouth. She put her arms around my neck and pressed herself to me without the slightest reserve, squashing her tits against my chest, rubbing against my cock beneath the water.

The water reached both of us to the chest. I ran one hand down her back until I could grab her ass with both hands, one cheek in each palm, and lifted her slightly so she would open against me. She spread her legs and wrapped one around my waist, letting my cock slip between her thighs, gliding against her cunt without going in.

—I’ve spent months wanting this to happen —I confessed as I ran my lips along her neck and bit the hollow between her shoulder and collarbone.

—Me too —she said—. We’ve missed at least three perfect opportunities.

—Which ones?

—After the concert in May. And that afternoon in the office when everyone had gone. And...

—Yeah, that one I remember —I cut in.

She laughed against my shoulder. Then she kissed me again and her hand went back to my cock, this time more decisively, closing her fingers around it and starting to stroke me slowly under the water.

My hands roamed her slowly: back, waist, hips. I slid one down between her legs and ran my fingers over her cunt. It was hot even with the water around it, and her lips opened immediately under my fingertips. I found her clit and started making soft circles. She let out a gasp straight into my mouth.

—There —she said—. Right there.

I slid two fingers inside her without stopping rubbing her clit with my thumb. Her cunt gripped tightly, and I could feel how she clenched every time I went a little deeper. She didn’t stop jerking me off, faster and faster, squeezing harder and harder.

—Let’s go upstairs —she said after a moment, her breathing ragged—. The chlorine’s irritating me and I want to be comfortable. I want you to fuck me properly, not standing here.

We got out of the pool. The moon was high and the garden completely still. She walked out in front of me and for the first time I saw her whole ass in full light: two firm cheeks, with the swimsuit mark still visible on the paler skin. I gave her a smack that rang out in the silence of the garden. She laughed and looked back over her shoulder.

—Wait till I’m upstairs and then you can give it to me properly.

We went in through the kitchen, leaving a trail of water down the hall, and climbed the stairs to her room. I was behind her, cock pointing forward, watching her ass sway step by step.

***

She switched on the bedside lamp, which gave off a warm, soft light. The window was ajar and the curtain moved with the breeze. By the time we got upstairs, the night’s heat had almost dried us.

We lay down on the bed and picked up where we’d left off. She focused on my chest, running her fingers over it slowly, then her tongue, moving down my sternum, my belly, leaving a trail of saliva until she reached my cock. She looked at it for a second as if measuring something, smiled, and took it in her hand.

—I’d been wanting to see it for months —she said.

—Well, here it is.

She leaned down and took it all the way into her mouth in one go, with no transition. I felt her throat tightening around the head and had to grip the sheets to avoid coming on that first thrust. She came up slowly, sucking it with her cheeks hollowed out, until only the tip remained between her lips, and went back down. Again. And again. Her tongue worked beneath it while her mouth moved up and down with a rhythm that made it obvious she’d done this many times and knew exactly what she was doing.

—Fuck, Marta —I managed to say—. If you keep this up I won’t last at all.

She pulled my cock out of her mouth with a wet pop and looked up at me from below, her lips shining with saliva.

—Don’t worry. We’ve got all night. Come as many times as you need to.

And she took it in again. This time she focused on the head, lapping at it with the tip of her tongue, circling it, while her hand stroked the rest of my cock firmly. Her other hand caressed my balls, weighing them, squeezing them with just enough force. My eyes were closed and my stomach tense, holding on as best I could.

She opened the bedside drawer and took out condoms and lubricant. She sat up, tore the wrapper open with her teeth, and slipped the condom on without any clumsiness, without interrupting the moment. Then she knelt on the bed, opened the lubricant, and prepared herself with her fingers, shamelessly, in front of me. She spread her cunt with two fingers of the other hand so I could see it properly: pink, swollen, with the clit showing. She slid three fingers in to the knuckles and gasped.

—Menopause comes with this sort of thing —she said with a half-smile—. Desire through the roof and moisture through the floor.

—That’s no problem. Watching you do that turns me on.

—Yeah? Then watch closely, because I don’t do this for just anyone.

She slid her fingers in and out a few more times, looking me in the eyes, then brought them to her mouth and sucked them one by one. She straddled me, grabbed my cock with her hand, and started easing it into herself slowly, centimeter by centimeter, eyes closed and mouth open.

When she took me all the way in, we both went still for a second, feeling. Her cunt was tight, hot, and the walls pulsed around my cock. Then she started moving.

Marta had completely white hair, big tits that moved with the rhythm of her riding, and a way of fucking on top that left no doubt about what she wanted. There was nothing artificial about her. Riding me calmly at first, downstrokes faster than upstrokes, eyes half-closed and mouth slightly open. Every time she came all the way down, she made a small circular motion with her hips, rubbing her clit against the bone of my pubis, and let out a short moan.

I put my hands on her waist to help her rise and fall. Then I moved them up to her tits and spent some time with them while she kept her rhythm. Her nipples, hardened, responded to the slightest touch. Every time my hands squeezed a little harder, her pace sped up a little. I pinched one between two fingers, tugging lightly upward, and she muttered “fuck” through clenched teeth and came down harder all at once.

—Come closer —I asked her.

She leaned toward me and I brought my mouth to her tits. I caught one nipple between my lips and started sucking it while I used my hand on the other. She kept riding me at the same rhythm, now pressed closer to me, her white hair falling over my face. The nipple hardened even more in my mouth. I ran my tongue over it, nibbled it carefully, then let it go and moved to the other one. My free hand slid down her side, her hip, until I reached her ass, and I dug my fingers into her cheek.

She was moaning very low, almost silently, in a way that felt more intense than any shout. A broken sound in her throat that came out each time she went all the way down, as if she couldn’t hold it in but also didn’t want to let it out fully.

When I felt I was getting too close to the edge too fast, I gently moved her aside, shifted out from under her, and slipped out of her. I needed a moment so I wouldn’t finish too soon.

—Don’t stop —she said almost in a whisper.

—I’m not stopping. I’m changing.

I knelt beside her and opened her legs all the way. The view was the one I’d been imagining from the kitchen: her cunt open, shining, with the white hair trimmed back and the lips swollen from what we’d been doing. I lowered my head between her legs and started with my tongue: slowly at first, a long lick from the bottom up to the clit, then another, then another. She arched her hips to press closer to my mouth.

I found her clit with the tip of my tongue and stayed there, circling it, varying the speed. I slid two fingers inside and started moving them upward, searching for the spot I knew would send her over. When I found it, she let out a moan that muffled itself in the pillow.

—There —she said, her voice broken—. Right there. Don’t stop.

My fingers went in and out firmly while my tongue concentrated on her clit. I held her hip with my other hand so she wouldn’t move too much. She had one hand resting on the back of my head, not pushing, just there, letting me do it.

From that position I could see her face. I could see her touching her tits with her other hand, pinching her nipples without any delicacy this time, tensing the muscles of her belly whenever something I was doing felt especially good. There was something about being able to see her face while I ate her out that was worth as much as the rest of it.

At one point, her hand slid down and pulled the condom off me with a quick motion. She took me in her hand and started stroking me hard, without delicacy, with an intensity that I found hard to keep up with. She jerked me up and down, squeezing hard at the base, twisting her wrist when she reached the head, her palm full of saliva and traces of lubricant. I kept up the rhythm on her as best I could, sucking her clit, sliding my fingers deep inside her, though it was getting harder and harder to think of anything besides her hand.

—I’m about to come —I warned her, lifting my head for a second.

—Yeah —she said—. Come. Come on me. I want to see it.

I sat up and knelt astride her, my cock pointing at her belly. She didn’t stop jerking me off for a second, squeezing harder and harder, staring fixedly into my eyes and then at my cock, alternating. The orgasm hit hard, with that tension that rises from your feet and explodes in some point you can’t quite localize. The first spurt landed between her tits, the second on her belly, and the rest stained her hand and thigh. She kept jerking me until the last drop, getting everything out of me.

—Fuck —she said, looking at her semen-stained chest—. Good load.

I caught my breath for a second. She ran two fingers over her belly, gathering some of it up, and brought them to her mouth without taking her eyes off me. I went back down between her legs without wasting any more time.

My fingers, my tongue, all the attention I had available. I slid three fingers into her this time, moving them fast, while I sucked her clit with more pressure. She started moving with more urgency, her hips meeting my hand, her gasps becoming more frequent, shorter. I saw her clench the sheets in both fists, twisting them until her knuckles went white.

—Yes, yes, yes —she kept repeating almost voicelessly—. Don’t stop, don’t stop, almost there, almost there...

And then she stopped.

One second of absolute silence, her body completely tense, eyes closed, mouth open with no air coming out. Then a muffled cry and a jerk of her hips forward, as if she wanted to force something out from inside her. Her cunt clenched around my fingers with a force that almost trapped them. Her nails dug into my thigh with enough strength to leave a mark. I felt a hot wave against the palm of my hand.

She went still. Her breathing slowly came back. I pulled my fingers out slowly and gave her clit one last, very soft lick, tongue flat, and she jerked and laughed with a broken voice.

—Stop, stop, I can’t anymore.

—God —she said quietly after a moment—. My God.

I lay down beside her. I brushed a strand of hair off her forehead with my hand. She opened her eyes and looked at me with that expression of someone who’s just landed after a very long journey.

—It took fifteen years —she said.

—More or less —I replied.

—We could have started sooner.

—Yeah. But this wasn’t bad either.

She smiled and said nothing else. She turned onto her side, pressed herself against me, and threw one leg over me. I put a hand on her ass and left it there.

The breeze kept coming in through the window. Outside, the garden was quiet and the pool shone on its own under the moon. It was one of those summer nights that take a long time to cool down, if they ever cool completely at all.