The Summer They Caught Me Watching Myself

My name is Diana, and I was just over twenty when I lived through the summer that still sets my skin alight whenever I remember it. I had never been with a man, although I had spent years exploring myself alone, learning what made me moan, how my body responded when I touched myself slowly, and when I needed to squeeze myself hard to really come. I lost my virginity in that vacation house, far from my city, during a few days of sticky heat that changed me forever.

At the time, I shared a rental with a university friend, Lorena. I had had to stay a few extra weeks to finish a delayed course, so I couldn't immediately go home to my family when the holidays began. When I finally finished, she invited me to spend a few days at her grandparents' house near the lake, where several relatives would be gathering. I hesitated a little, but she insisted so much that I accepted.

The house was large, cool on the ground floor and stifling upstairs. From the moment we arrived, they welcomed me with a kindness that made me feel less like a stranger, but also left me far too aware of myself. I had always been insecure about my body: short, with wide hips, generous breasts, and a soft belly I had never quite known how to hide. Alone, I could look at myself naked and like what I saw; in front of others, though, I felt awkward.

Then Mauro appeared, Lorena's cousin, and my mouth went dry.

He was a grown man with a confident presence, the kind who occupied space effortlessly. Tall, broad-shouldered, with arms browned by the sun and a way of smiling that seemed to know exactly what effect it had. He wasn't just handsome; he was shameless without being vulgar, one of those men who held your gaze a second longer than necessary and left you thinking about it for the rest of the day.

I tried to act normal. Eat, talk, pretend I wasn't noticing how his forearms tensed when he carried the coolers or how his damp shirt clung to his torso after he got out of the pool. But every time we exchanged a few words, I felt my body growing hotter. He spoke to me confidently, as though he already knew me, while I could barely answer without giving myself away.

The room they gave me was on the second floor and had its own bathroom. As soon as I entered, I noticed something strange: the bathroom window looked out onto an interior shaft separating several bedrooms. It was one of those narrow spaces where air circulated and other facing windows could be seen. I didn't think much of it at first. I opened it to let in a breeze, left my clothes on the bed, and tried to relax.

But the heat that night was unbearable. The house smelled of warm wood, soap, and summer dampness. After dinner and hours of enduring Mauro's presence without daring to look at him too much, I went upstairs to my room with my head full of images of him. I closed the door, took off my clothes, and stood for a moment in front of the bathroom mirror.

I've always been honest with myself: although I felt embarrassed in front of others, alone I liked touching and looking at myself. That night I ran my hands over my body slowly, feeling my nipples harden at the slightest brush. I squeezed my breasts, turned sideways, ran my palm over my belly, and continued down between my legs. I was already wet before I stepped into the shower.

I got under the water, trying to shower quickly, but I didn't take long to abandon that idea. The hot water slid down my back while I kept thinking about him: his deep voice, his chest, the curve of his mouth. I stroked one nipple with one hand and opened my lips with the other. My clitoris throbbed with an almost painful sensitivity.

I began rubbing myself with short strokes, slowly at first, making circles until the pleasure became too obvious to ignore. I bit my lip so I wouldn't make a sound. I lowered two fingers, covered them in my own wetness, and slipped them barely inside, more to intensify the sensation than anything else. My cunt contracted immediately, squeezing them.

—Fuck... —I whispered to myself, bracing one hand against the tile.

I kept touching myself more hungrily. The water, my fingers, and the image of Mauro masturbating in my head blended together until I stopped thinking. I rubbed myself faster, sliding my fingers in and out again and again, feeling them glide inside me. When I came, I had to open my mouth to stifle the moan. My legs trembled, and I remained bent forward, breathing hard, with the water beating against the back of my neck.

I stepped out of the shower light, almost dizzy with pleasure. I put on my pajamas and went to bed, but I couldn't sleep. With the light off, I saw a faint glow coming in from the bathroom. I got up, curious, and approached barefoot. Then I realized that from the opposite window, part of my bathroom could be seen... and someone could probably have seen me a few minutes earlier.

My stomach turned. I was about to move away when the other window opened.

It was Mauro.

I recognized him by his profile, his bare torso, and the calm way he rested one arm on the frame. He had turned on the bathroom light, so I could see him fairly clearly. He wasn't wearing a shirt. His hair was wet, his skin still gleaming from the water. Then he lowered his hand to his waist and began masturbating.

I stood rooted to the spot.

There was no doubt. It wasn't an ambiguous gesture. He was jerking off in front of the window, slowly, looking toward my side even though I was half-hidden by the darkness. My first impulse was to step back, but the second was stronger. I felt a wave of heat between my legs so immediate it took my breath away.

I slipped my hand beneath my blouse. My nipples were hard again. I lowered my other hand into my panties and found myself soaked. He kept moving his arm in a steady rhythm, jaw clenched, occasionally throwing his head back. I began matching my breathing to his, my fingers to the rhythm of his hand.

I spread myself open and rubbed my clitoris desperately. Watching him touch himself made everything more intense, dirtier, more exciting. I couldn't believe what I was doing, but I didn't want to stop either. I came again with my palm pressed between my legs, letting out a moan that escaped this time.

He heard it.

Mauro turned his face straight toward me. I couldn't make out every detail, but I saw the slow smile with which he licked his lower lip when he discovered me. He said nothing. He simply held my gaze for a few seconds, as if he wanted me to know that he had seen me touching myself while I watched him. Then he calmly closed the window.

I went cold once the trembling of my orgasm subsided. I went from arousal to embarrassment in a matter of seconds. What if he told someone? What if he thought I was some desperate pervert? What if I had misunderstood everything? I slept little and badly, tossing and turning, replaying the scene over and over.

The next morning I went downstairs for breakfast, praying I wouldn't run into him. He wasn't there. Lorena told me he had gone into town early with some friends, and I felt a relief as great as it was disappointing. The rest of the family treated me exactly as usual, so I assumed he hadn't said anything. Even so, I could barely eat.

I spent the day restless. Every time I remembered his hand moving in front of the window or that smile when he caught me, I got wet without fail. I kept telling myself that tonight I would close the window and wouldn't make the same mistake again. But deep down I knew I could no longer pretend to be indifferent.

When I finally went upstairs to my room, I headed straight for the bathroom and closed the window before undressing. I stepped into the shower, trying to concentrate on something else. As soon as I turned on the tap, I heard a soft knock on the glass.

My heart stopped.

—Who is it? —I asked quietly, although I already knew.

—It's me —he answered from the other side—. Open up.

—You're crazy.

—Open up, Diana. Just a little.

His voice was low and confident, as though he were asking me for something he already took for granted. I hesitated only a few seconds. I was naked, my skin damp and my pulse racing. In the end, I slid the panel open just far enough to see his face.

It was a mistake, because the moment I had him in front of me, I stopped thinking.

Mauro reached his hand through, opened the window wider, and grabbed me by the nape to kiss me. His mouth came in hungrily, without hesitation. He thrust his tongue between my lips, and I welcomed it with a muffled moan, pressing myself against the frame. He smelled of soap, hot skin, and that obscene confidence that had left me a wreck since I arrived.

—Fuck, you really did want to watch me —he murmured against my lips.

I didn't know what to say. He kissed me again, and this time he gripped my hair with one hand while caressing one of my breasts with the other. He pinched my nipple between two fingers, and my knees buckled. The heat surged all the way to my belly.

—Move back —he said—. I'm coming in.

And he came in.

It was difficult for him to get through the narrow window, but he managed it. Within seconds he was inside the bathroom, closing it behind him and cornering me against the shower glass. He kissed me again, harder. I ran my hands over his chest, back, and arms. I could feel the tension in his body, his impatience, his desire.

He unfastened the shorts I was wearing and pulled them down along with my underwear. His erection sprang free, hard, thick, and completely ready. Seeing it filled me with a brutal mixture of fear, kink, and desire. I had never had a real cock so close to me, and instead of being entirely frightened, I felt my cunt throb harder.

—Look at me —he said.

I did.

—Yesterday I saw you touching yourself for me. I'm not going to pretend that didn't drive me crazy.

I bit my lip, dying of embarrassment and arousal.

—I... thought you hadn't seen me.

—I saw all of you. How you opened yourself, how you came while looking at me. —He slipped a hand between my legs and gave a short laugh when he felt how wet I was—. And now you're just as wet, or worse.

He stroked my vulva with his fingers, slowly parting my lips, playing first with the wetness and then pressing my clitoris in slow circles. I threw my head back against the glass and spread my legs wider. He took advantage of it to slip in one finger, then two. They entered easily because I was so soaked.

—That's it, easy —he murmured—. I want to feel you relaxing for me.

He began pumping his fingers steadily inside my cunt while his thumb continued grinding against my clitoris. I clung to his shoulders, moaning, no longer able to hide anything. Every time he pushed his fingers all the way in, I arched my back. I felt my entire body becoming pure desire.

Then he knelt.

He lifted one leg, then the other, arranging them over his shoulders. The gesture was so decisive that it made me feel completely exposed. He kissed the insides of my thighs slowly, savoring the anticipation. I trembled from head to toe.

His tongue reached my cunt, and I almost screamed.

It wasn't a timid brush; he licked me from bottom to top hungrily, opening my lips wider with his fingers so he could get in better. Then he focused his mouth on my clitoris and began sucking it with obscene precision. I held on to the shower screen as best I could, panting, my knees weak.

—Mauro... I'm going to come...

He didn't lift his face.

He answered with another long lick and two fingers entering me again, curling them inside until they found a spot that made me see white. I came over his mouth, trembling and squeezing his shoulders with my legs. I felt him keep licking me throughout the orgasm, swallowing everything, without letting me go for even a second.

When he rose again, his mouth was glistening and he wore a smile of pure vice.

—This is just getting started —he said.

He kissed me, and I tasted myself on his tongue. It drove me crazy. I lowered my hand and took hold of him for the first time. His cock was hot, heavy, and truly hard. I wrapped my hand around it awkwardly, without experience, and began moving it the way I had seen him do. He closed his eyes for a moment and let his forehead fall against my shoulder.

—Like that... not so gently. Squeeze a little harder.

I obeyed. I moved my hand up and down with more determination, feeling the skin slide beneath my fingers. I loved the reaction I provoked in him. His jaw tightened, he exhaled through his nose, and he gripped my waist as if restraining himself. I wanted more.

—I want to suck you —I said, surprised by my own voice.

He looked at me with a mixture of surprise and hunger.

—Kneel, then.

I did it on the bathroom rug, without thinking about anything else. I had it in front of my face, imposing and faintly throbbing. I stuck out my tongue and licked it from bottom to top, tasting and learning. He let out a hoarse moan. I repeated the motion, then cautiously took him into my mouth, going as far as I could.

He gathered my hair into an improvised ponytail and let me set the rhythm at first. I sucked, moved up and down, used my tongue on the tip, pulled him out to lick him again, then took him back in. I had never given a blowjob, but I guided myself by his sounds. When he moaned louder, I focused there. When he pushed my head slightly, I understood that he wanted me to go deeper.

—Fuck, you're doing this so well for your first time —he said through his teeth.

That turned me on even more. I lowered one hand to his balls and caressed them while continuing to suck him. He took a step back and made me stop.

—No. If you keep going, I'll come in your mouth, and I don't want to finish like that.

He pulled me up by the arms and sat me on the sink counter. There he spread my legs again and placed his cock at the entrance to my cunt. That was when I became genuinely nervous. No one had ever penetrated me. He looked into my eyes before pushing.

—Are you sure?

—Yes —I answered immediately—. Put it in me.

He entered slowly, inch by inch, and the pleasure mingled with a new pain that made me gasp. I clung to his shoulders. My body resisted for a moment, then began to give way. He wasn't in a hurry. He remained still for a second, completely inside me, letting me feel the thickness, the pressure, the incredible sensation of being full.

—Breathe —he said in my ear—. You're tensing up all over.

I did. When he began moving again, the pain faded and pleasure began forcing its way through with brutal clarity. He withdrew slowly and entered again, a little harder each time. The sink struck the wall with a dull sound. I moaned without shame, legs spread for him, feeling my cunt gradually adjust to the cock that had seemed impossible at first.

Soon the rhythm changed. It was no longer just careful; it was hungry too. Mauro gripped my hips and began fucking me for real, with deeper, faster thrusts, driving all the way in. Each stroke shook my entire body. I began moving my pelvis with him, eager to receive him again and again.

—This is how I imagined you last night —he said, panting against my ear—. Looking at me and wanting me to be the one fucking you.

The words shot through me like an electric charge. He bit my neck, sucked one of my nipples, and continued thrusting harder. I was already on the edge again. My clitoris was sensitive, my cunt squeezing him uncontrollably, my legs trembling and spread with every thrust.

—Don't stop... please, don't stop...

He lowered one hand and began rubbing my clitoris while penetrating me. It was too much. Pleasure surged all at once, hot and tightening inside me. I came screaming his name, my body arched and my nails digging into his back. I felt him continue for a few seconds longer, driven wild by my contractions.

—I'm going to come —he growled.

He pulled out at the last moment and masturbated violently twice before coming over the sink, breathing raggedly. I was still trembling, open, my cunt throbbing and my legs weak. He leaned over me and kissed me deeply, as though he still hadn't had enough.

We remained silent for a few seconds, catching our breath.

—I want to do this every day you're here —he said at last—. But no one can know.

I nodded without thinking. At that moment, I would have accepted any condition in exchange for feeling him inside me again.

He helped me down from the sink. Then he groped me again, as though he found it hard to let me go, and finally climbed back through the same window he had entered through. I remained alone, naked and still wet, staring at the bathroom in disarray and wondering how my first time could have been so dirty, so intense, and so good.

***

For the rest of that week, we repeated our secret every night and sometimes during a stolen afternoon nap as well. The thrill of being discovered made everything stronger. One afternoon he took me to the laundry room and pressed me against the door to put his hand inside my panties while the whole family talked downstairs. Another night he made me open the window just a little so he could watch me touch myself before coming in.

I quickly learned what he liked. Sucking his cock until I heard him curse, noticing how much harder it became when I licked his balls, feeling him grab my hair when he lost himself. He, for his part, seemed determined to teach me everything all at once: he ate my cunt until he left me undone, fucked me standing up in the shower, put me on all fours on the bed, and spread my buttocks to look at me before entering my vagina again, always making me moan with that mixture of dominance and care that left me hooked.

The last night was the most intense. He made me undress completely in front of the open window, knowing that only he could see me from the other bathroom. He ordered me to caress myself for him, and I obeyed, looking at him through the dark shaft while I spread my legs over the edge of the sink. When he saw that I was about to come, he came through the window again and penetrated me from behind without giving me time for anything else. I came with one of his hands around my throat and the other between my legs, trembling so hard I could barely keep myself upright.

When that trip ended, so did whatever we had. There were no promises or dramas. I returned to my life with an experience clinging to my skin and a new certainty about myself: I was aroused by being watched, by being discovered, by feeling desired at the exact moment I stopped hiding. Ever since then, whenever I lock myself in a stranger's bathroom or a window is left ajar, I remember that summer and how I began to truly burn.

It was my first time, yes. But above all, it was the first time I understood that a fantasy, when it turns into flesh, can mark you forever.