What Lorena Whispers to Me When We’re Together

Lorena is one of those women who never goes unnoticed. Attractive, cheerful, with a natural flirtiness that takes no effort. She has an energy that radiates even when she’s standing still, as if she had her own light switched on inside.

She’s the kind of girl you’d run into on the beach in a tiny bikini and can’t help staring at. Not just because of her body —those firm tits that show through under any fabric, that round ass that bounces as she walks— but because of her attitude: that mix of confidence and mischief that hooks you without asking permission.

From the beginning I had the feeling there was something more in her beneath the surface. Something she didn’t fully show, but that you could sense in the way she walked, laughed, glanced sideways. And maybe that’s why, when she started telling me stories from her past, I didn’t quite know how to react.

I thought she wanted to make me jealous. And maybe she did. Maybe she was trying to measure my reactions, to see whether imagining her with other men, imagining other cocks inside her, would stir me up inside. What I didn’t know —what I couldn’t even suspect— was that what she was waking in me wasn’t jealousy. It was something else. Something deeper, darker, more intimate. My cock would get hard just from hearing her.

It all started with an apparently innocent conversation, during a holiday we spent together on the coast. Lorena was talking in her usual natural way, waving her hands around, laughing at her own anecdotes. I listened, caught by her voice, by the way she told things.

—I used to be really into flirting —she said all of a sudden, as casually as if she were commenting on the weather—. A lot. Too much, maybe.

I raised an eyebrow, trying to look indifferent.

—Oh yeah? —I replied, in a tone meant to sound neutral.

—Yeah —she repeated, smiling—. Especially when I traveled. I don’t know what it is about traveling... it turns you into someone else. My pussy opens right up, I swear.

She fell thoughtful for a second, as if a specific memory had suddenly flashed through her mind.

—Did I tell you about Salou? —she asked.

I shook my head. And that’s where it all began.

***

—It was on the end-of-school trip —she said—. All the girlfriends went. You know... beach, cheap booze, music all day long. A beautiful mess.

The way she said it made me smile. But there was something else too. A spark in her eyes. A kind of mischievous nostalgia I hadn’t seen before.

—We went from party to party —she went on—. And yeah... we flirted with a lot of guys. We fucked a lot of guys, no point lying to you. It was that kind of trip.

She said it with such naturalness that it threw me completely off balance. I felt a little knot in my stomach, but it wasn’t discomfort. It was something else. Something I didn’t want to admit even to myself. I could already feel my cock tightening against my trousers.

—There was one —she added—. An Italian guy. I met him on the beach.

She dropped her gaze for a second, as if remembering something that still sent a tingle between her legs.

—We were sunbathing and kept looking at each other. He was hot as hell, his huge bulge showed through his swim trunks, and in the end he came over to talk. Really nice, really confident. And at one point, after we’d gone swimming together and laughed a bit, he offered to put sunscreen on me.

I swallowed. Lorena smiled when she saw my reaction.

—He didn’t do anything weird, but he did spend a while in dangerous territory —she said—. He ran his fingers along the edge of my bikini, really slowly, brushing under the little triangle over my tits. When he put lotion on the small of my back, he slipped his fingertips inside my bottoms, almost grazing my ass. I started dripping right there, on the beach. My bikini panties were soaked, and it wasn’t from the water.

The word fell between us like a stone into a still lake. I felt my breathing change and my cock start to throb. She kept talking, unhurried, enjoying having my attention trapped.

—We met up that night with his group and my friends —she continued—. And well, we all ended up in the same room drinking before heading out. He sat me on his lap and I noticed right away the hard cock under his jeans, pressing into my ass. Every time I laughed, I’d clamp my cheeks against him on purpose. Then he started kissing my neck in front of everyone, slipping his hand under my dress. When he realized I wasn’t wearing panties and was wet, he let out a little moan in my ear. That’s when I kicked everyone out, my friends and his mates, and stayed alone with him.

I started getting even more nervous, my cock fully hard now, desperate to know what came next.

—As soon as I closed the door, he slammed me against it. He yanked my dress up and shoved two fingers straight into my cunt. They were dripping all the way to his wrist. I went for his cock over his trousers and it was rock hard, huge, really huge. I pulled it out right there, at the door, and got down on my knees without thinking. I sucked his cock all the way down, to the throat, until saliva was running down my chin. He grabbed my hair and fucked my mouth to his own rhythm, not letting me breathe. “Che troia,” he told me in Italian, “what a slut you are.” And that made me even hotter.

I kept my legs clamped together under the table. She noticed. And kept going.

—He threw me face down on the bed, lifted my ass and put the condom on. Then he drove into me in one thrust, all the way in. I screamed into the pillow. He started fucking me so hard, one hand on my neck pinning me into the mattress, the other digging his fingers into my hip. He left marks on me the next day. He’d pull out and shove two fingers into my pussy to see how I was dripping, then slam his cock back in. He made me come twice like that, face down, biting the sheet.

She laughed a little as she remembered, glancing at me sideways to gauge my face.

—After that he put me on top. I rode his cock looking him in the eyes, with my tits bouncing in front of his face. He sucked them, bit my nipples, slapped my ass while I went up and down. We did it with a condom, but in one heat-soaked moment he took it off when he couldn’t take it anymore. I felt it, felt the bare cock going into me, skin on skin, and I didn’t tell him to stop. On the contrary. I told him to cum inside. You know where I like them to finish. And he came in spurts. I felt every hot lash against the back of me. Afterward I stayed there with my legs open, watching his cum run down my thighs. He bent down and cleaned it off with his tongue. All of it. He swallowed it.

The curious thing was that Lorena didn’t seem to realize what was happening inside me. Or maybe she did. She talked like someone sharing a funny anecdote, like someone recalling a harmless teenage adventure. But I was burning. Not from jealousy, but from something much harder to explain. My cock was soaking my underwear.

Why do I like listening to this so much?

That night I barely slept. I tossed and turned, replaying every sentence, every pause, every gesture she’d made while telling it. I imagined the Italian guy fucking her from behind, cumming inside her, and instead of anger I got a brutal erection. I jerked off twice thinking about it, with Lorena asleep beside me, breathing peacefully. I caught myself wanting more details, wanting the story not to end there. And at the same time I felt a little dizzy at discovering that part of myself I hadn’t known existed.

***

—There was also the hotel guy —she told me, as if it were a casual aside.

I looked up sharply.

—The security guard —she clarified—. I ran into him every day in the corridors.

She told me that one afternoon she came out of her room freshly showered, wrapped only in a towel that was far too short. She was heading to a friend’s room right next door. And when she opened the door, he was there, standing in the hallway.

—He looked me up and down —said Lorena— and I, without thinking, blurted, “Couldn’t you make the towels a bit longer?”

She said it in that playful tone of hers, mixing innocence and provocation in equal measure.

—And he said, “Or shorter.”

I felt a shiver run down my spine. Lorena noticed right away and smiled.

—After that we flirted for several days —she went on—. He invited me to fuck in his car during his break. But I didn’t want to. Not like that, rushed and with the risk of getting caught. I told him to wait.

She leaned a little closer as she told it, as if the memory itself pushed her forward. Her eyes were shining.

—In the end, on his day off, he came up to my room. On the same bed as the Italian.

Again that silence. Again that smile that never quite closed.

—This one was different —she said, almost in a whisper—. Slower. As soon as he came in, he closed the door and just stood there looking at me. He didn’t lunge. He came over slowly, brushed my hair aside, kissed my neck. He undressed me one piece at a time. When he took off my bra, he stayed a while just holding my tits, sucking my nipples, biting them softly. He pulled my panties down with his teeth.

She swallowed and went on.

—And then he spread my legs on the bed and ate my pussy like no one ever had before. Seriously. Using his whole tongue, giving slow licks from bottom to top, sucking my clit with his lips, pushing his tongue deep inside me. He watched me from down there while he did it. He ate my pussy for almost half an hour until I came in his mouth, trembling, gripping his head with both hands. And he didn’t pull away. He swallowed everything I gave him.

I realized I was holding my breath.

—When he climbed on top of me and took out his cock, I almost got a fright. It was huge, crazy thick, longer than the Italian’s. He put it in my mouth first, and I could barely get my hand around it. I sucked it as much as I could, licked his balls while he stroked my face. And then he asked me to get on all fours.

She bit her lip, watching me get hard without even trying to hide it.

—He slid it in very slowly, millimeter by millimeter, because it wouldn’t go in all at once. He split me open. I could feel myself stretching inside with that thick cock. When he finally drove it all the way in, he stayed still, letting me feel it, and whispered in my ear, “You’re so tight.” Then he started moving deep, with his hands on my hips, in no hurry at all, savoring me. Every thrust hit the back of my womb. He made me moan into the pillow, moans that came out on their own, rough and low. He fucked me like he had all the time in the world.

I could feel my erection growing with every sentence, and I couldn’t and didn’t want to hide it. She looked at my open crotch and licked her lips.

—He put me on my side, one leg up, and shoved it back in like that, entering from a different angle, hitting spots I didn’t even know I had. Then on my back, with my legs over his shoulders, folded in half, so he could drive it all the way to the hilt. He made me come three times. Three. The third time was with his cock still inside, my cunt tightening around him, squeezing him. That was when he couldn’t hold back anymore. He came inside too, a huge hot load. He filled me completely. And then he turned me over and licked the cum overflowing from my pussy. Just as good as, or better than, the Italian. And besides, his cock was massive.

I was about to come in my pants just listening to her.

—And you know what I even considered a few days later? —she said, biting her lip—. Doing both of them at the same time. One in front and one behind. One cock in my pussy, another in my mouth. Or the other way around. It would’ve been insane. I still touch myself thinking about it sometimes.

***

But what finished throwing me off balance —and turning me on more than I would ever have admitted back then— was when Lorena decided to show me photos of those guys. She didn’t do it abruptly, or to show off. It was more like someone sharing a visual memory to complete a story she was already telling.

—Want to see them? —she asked.

I hesitated for a second, but nodded. Something inside me needed faces to go with the cocks she’d fucked.

She unlocked her phone, searched her social media profile, and turned the screen toward me.

—This is the Italian —she said.

He was tall, strong, with that confident smile that fit the story she’d just told me too well. I looked at his arms, imagining them squeezing her waist while he wrecked her face down. I felt a little jolt in my stomach and another tug in my cock. Lorena noticed instantly.

—And this... —she switched to another profile— is the hotel guy.

The security guard. The towel guy. The one whose line still ran down my spine every time I remembered it. The one with the enormous cock.

—Sometimes they like my posts —she remarked with a shrug—. Or send fire emojis on my stories. The Italian messaged me the other day asking if I was coming back this summer.

She said it so casually it left me breathless. It wasn’t boasting. It wasn’t a direct provocation. It was simply reality. A reality she shared with me unfiltered, as if it were nothing.

—Look —she added, showing me an old notification—. This one replied to a bikini photo not long ago. He wrote “I’d eat you whole” with three fire emojis.

I felt something strange. A mix of tension, curiosity, and a touch of discomfort. And a kind of dirty thrill I didn’t know how to handle. It was as if those photos, those likes, those fire emojis made everything she’d told me more real. As if those cocks were still out there, still waiting their turn.

As if the memories weren’t just words, but something still alive, latent, breathing somewhere in the corner of her past.

And the worst —or the best— was that she didn’t seem to realize the effect she was having on me. Or maybe she did. Maybe she sensed it. Maybe she enjoyed watching me get worked up as she told it, watching the bulge in my trousers grow with every detail.

***

For the rest of the trip, I looked at her differently. I watched her laughing on the terrace, walking barefoot on the sand, talking to strangers in the hotel bar, and every gesture of hers gained a new intensity. I no longer saw only the woman beside me. I also saw all the women she had been before me, all the cocks she had swallowed, all the men who had cum inside her.

In time, Lorena understood that none of that pushed me away. It drew me closer. It turned me on. And since then something changed between us, silently, without needing to talk about it.

Now, when we’re together, when I have her close, when her mouth brushes my ear while she’s sucking my cock or while I’m fucking her, Lorena whispers fragments of those stories to me. She reminds me of phrases, looks, moments. She brings back scenes I never saw, but that I feel as if I lived them myself.

—Do you remember what the hotel guy told me? —she whispers to me, slowly, her lips pressed to my skin, my cock buried deep inside her cunt—. “You’re so tight.” He said it exactly like that, while he was burying it all the way in. Just like you now.

And I get lost. I start fucking her harder, grabbing her by the hair, biting her neck, and she keeps whispering in my ear how those other men ate her out, how they fucked her, how they came inside her. Every time she talks to me like that, every time she mixes her voice with those memories, I get hard in a way I never knew was possible. Because now she knows. Now she understands exactly what she’s doing to me.

—The Italian came inside me without a condom —she whispers, her voice broken, while I ram her against the mattress—. Just like you’re going to cum. Fill me, baby. Fill me like they filled me.

She understands that her past, told in her voice, in her tone, in the way she pauses between words while she sucks my cock or while I have her on all fours, is part of our present. That I don’t want her despite those stories, but because they’re hers.

And while we’re together, very close together, with my cock buried in her soaked pussy, while Lorena whispers old memories in my ear that I almost feel are mine now, we both end up exploding at the same time. I cum into her in spurts, moaning into her neck, and she comes clamping down on my cock with the walls of her cunt, trembling all over. For everything she was. For all the cocks that enjoyed her before. For everything we are now.