I Went Back to Picking Up Women at the Beach

I always say that what I tell really happened, even if I change names, places, and a few details. I don't do it to embellish myself or seem more interesting, but because for years I learned to live with a part of me hidden away, and when I finally let it out, I understood that my desire doesn't go away with domestic promises or the routine of a quiet marriage.

I've been married for a long time to a decent, stable, affectionate man—in his own way. The problem was never a lack of affection, but that I needed things he couldn't give me and didn't want to understand either. My hunger for other women, for their scent, their hands, that different way of arousing me, had been locked away for far too long.

One night I gathered my courage and told him. Not in exhaustive detail, because I knew he would fall apart, but with enough honesty to make it clear that I'd been with women before him and that desire was still there. We argued for hours.

In the end, exhausted, he let slip a phrase that ended up opening a door for me.

“Do whatever you want, but don't drag me into it,” he told me. “I don't want to know who with, or when, or how.”

It wasn't a blessing or a generous permission. It was more like a crack. And I took advantage of it.

Over the next few days, I couldn't think of anything else. I started imagining getaways, drinks at sunset, lingering looks with strange women, hands beneath a table, urgent mouths in a borrowed room. The mere idea of sleeping with a woman again had me wet from morning until night.

The opportunity didn't take long to appear. My family organized a short trip to the coast and, through a combination of circumstances, I ended up going alone with my parents. My husband even encouraged me to go, as if a few days at the beach were an innocent break. I nodded calmly, but inside I was already sharpening my desire.

I'm over fifty, although my body still responds well to the mirror. I'm still slim, with long legs, a firm waist, and small tits that haven't given up. Before the trip I shaved myself completely, chose my tightest swimsuits, and packed light dresses that left little to the imagination. I wasn't going to waste time pretending to be modest.

That first afternoon, after we settled in, we went for a walk along the promenade. My parents wanted to have dinner early and rest; I, on the other hand, looked everywhere with the alert attention of a huntress who can smell prey. I wasn't looking for just anything. I wanted an adult woman, self-assured and eager, someone who would return my gaze as if she understood exactly what I was offering.

The next day we went to a quiet beach, the kind where, early in the morning, there is still plenty of sand and very little noise. I put on a vivid blue swimsuit that made my fair skin stand out, a short white cover-up, flat sandals, and dark sunglasses that gave me a false air of innocence. As soon as we arrived, I left my things and went for a walk along the shore.

That's when I saw her.

She was with a group of adults beneath a large parasol, but she didn't seem to be paying attention to anyone. Brunette, with a strong body, wide hips, massive thighs, and a generous chest. She wore tiny white shorts and a light blouse that the wind pressed against her torso. When I passed in front of her, she lifted her face and looked me up and down without bothering to hide it.

I lowered my head just slightly, smiled, and kept walking, although inside she had already hit me with a jolt straight to my cunt.

On my way back, I tied the cover-up around my waist to leave my legs bare. I don't know whether it was calculation, exhibitionism, or pure instinct, but I wanted her to see me properly. I wanted her to notice that beneath the fabric was a determined woman, not just another tourist. And she saw me. I knew by the way her eyes lingered between my thighs for a second longer than politeness allowed.

A little later I saw her walk alone toward the water. She was no longer wearing the shorts, but a white one-piece swimsuit that squeezed her body with delicious cruelty. She looked even better up close: strong shoulders, a lifted ass, big tits, and a way of moving that asked nobody's permission.

I moved close enough for speaking to feel natural.

“Hi,” I said.

“Pretty swimsuit,” she replied with a smile. “It looks incredible on you.”

Her voice had that calm depth that gets you wet before it touches you. We chatted for a few minutes, first about trivial things and then with the kind of questions that were really tests: whether I was alone, how long I was staying, where I was lodging. When she showed me a pendant she wore around her neck, she extended her hand so I could touch it, and I took advantage of the gesture to brush her chest with my knuckles. She didn't pull away. On the contrary, she sustained the contact with a calmness that made my clitoris hard.

Her name was Renata. At least, that was the name she gave me. She told me she was staying in a rented house with adult relatives, that they'd spend the afternoon eating and drinking, and that if I felt like it, I could come by for dinner later.

The invitation sounded casual, but her eyes didn't.

I told my parents I'd run into an old acquaintance and that she'd invited me to spend some time with her. They suspected nothing. I went upstairs to the room with an almost adolescent anxiety and got ready slowly, enjoying every decision. I put on a tiny white thong, a fresh dress with a narrow neckline, and low heels. Perfume on my neck, lotion on my legs, and nothing beneath the dress except that ridiculous scrap of fabric I already imagined soaked through.

When I arrived at the house, Renata came out to open the door. She welcomed me with one of those smiles that don't greet you: they claim you. Inside, people were talking, soft music was playing, and glasses sat on a table. I said hello, exchanged a couple of polite phrases, and she immediately led me toward a side terrace overlooking the garden.

As soon as we were alone, she came close until there was almost no air left between us.

“I didn't tell you at the beach how beautiful you looked in that blue,” she murmured.

Before I could answer, she kissed me. A wet, direct kiss, without any testing. Her mouth tasted of white wine and hunger. I stayed still for only a second; then I returned the kiss with the same pressure, parting her lips with my tongue and gripping her waist to feel the hardness of her body beneath her clothes.

“I liked that,” I told her as we barely separated.

“Then come with me.”

She kissed me again, this time pressing her chest against mine, and I felt her hard nipples through the fabric. Then she slowly licked my neck, from my collarbone to my ear, and whispered:

“I've been thinking all day about putting your face between my legs.”

I was already breathing unevenly. Not from embarrassment, but because the words went straight to my cunt.

“And the people inside?” I asked.

“They're occupied. Besides, I'm an adult woman. I do whatever the hell I want.”

She took my hand and we walked through the garden toward a separate room at the back. Halfway there she stopped behind me, moved my hair away from my neck, and squeezed my tits over the dress. I moaned softly, almost angrily. She pinched my nipples with her fingers until they were completely hard, then lowered her hand between my legs, over the skirt.

“Fuck,” she whispered. “You're already wet.”

“Since the beach,” I admitted.

“Even better.”

We entered the room. She switched on the light, but I asked her to turn it off. The bluish twilight coming in from the garden was more than enough. More intimate. Dirtier. Better suited to losing our heads.

Renata took off her sandals first and then put on a pair of extremely high heels she had beside the bed. The simple gesture made her even more imposing. She stood in front of me, a yard away, and began unbuttoning her blouse with obscene slowness. When she opened it, her big tits were barely contained by a scrap of fabric. Then she pulled down her shorts and was almost naked, wearing only a tiny thong and the heels planted firmly on the floor.

She slowly turned around to show me her round, hard ass.

“Tell me if you like what you see.”

“It drives me crazy,” I answered, barely breathing. “You look fucking incredible.”

She smiled like someone who already knew. She came closer, took me by the nape with one hand, and guided my palms to her buttocks with the other. I squeezed them hungrily. They were firm, fleshy, made to be grabbed without manners. She bit my lip and spoke into my ear.

“We're going to fuck each other so good.”

She untied my dress at the neck and let it fall to the floor. I was left wearing only my thong and heels. At once she lowered her head to my breasts and began sucking my nipples with a delicious mixture of tongue and teeth. She wasn't gentle. She was precise. Every bite made my belly contract.

“Like that,” I panted. “Don't stop.”

“What a sensitive little slut,” she said, and bit me again.

I felt her thigh slip between my legs while she went on licking me. She pressed me against her until my pubis rubbed against her bare thigh. I was already trembling. I grabbed her hair and pulled it slightly back to see her better: swollen lips, burning eyes, chest rising quickly.

I yanked off the little fabric still covering her upper body. Her tits fell free, heavy and beautiful. I kissed them, grabbed them with both hands, and licked her dark nipples until they were hard as stone. She let out a hoarse moan that went through me completely.

“Turn around,” she ordered.

I obeyed. She pressed herself against my back and wrapped one arm around me, squeezing my tits while her other hand slipped inside my thong. She moved the fabric aside and found my open, burning cunt, genuinely dripping.

“Jesus, you really were eager.”

She rubbed my clitoris with two fingers, slowly at first, then faster and more firmly, in short circles that made me spread my legs without thinking. I threw my head back onto her shoulder, panting, and she took advantage of it to kiss my cheek, ear, and neck. Whenever she found the exact rhythm, I moaned, and she smiled against my skin as if she enjoyed that control.

“Don't come yet,” she said. “I want to see you spread wide.”

She led me to an armchair beside the bed and sat me down. I was naked except for my shoes. She grabbed my ankles, dragged me to the edge, and opened my legs with a firmness that made me moan in pure anticipation. My cunt was swollen and shining, my lips parted, my clitoris peeking out from all the rubbing.

Renata knelt in front of me and looked at it without hurrying.

“You have a beautiful cunt,” she murmured. “And it's begging for a mouth.”

She didn't answer my panting with words. She simply spread me open with her fingers and buried her tongue in me. The first lick was long, from underneath all the way to my clitoris, and pulled a sharp cry from me. The second came harder. The third was already a declaration of intent: mouth open, tongue firm, insistent suction above while her fingers spread me wider.

“Fuck...” I said, bringing a hand to my mouth.

“Take your hand away. I want to hear you.”

She ate my cunt with genuine hunger. No timid caresses: she sucked, licked, rubbed the tip of her tongue over my clitoris, then pushed it between my lips to draw out everything I gave her. The wet sounds filled the room. I writhed in the armchair, thrusting my pelvis toward her face, unable to keep still.

When she thrust two fingers inside me, I almost screamed.

“Like that, fuck... like that... don't stop...”

They went in and out soaked while her mouth stayed fixed to my clitoris. She combined the pressure of her fingers with short sucks that tightened my body more and more. I felt the orgasm rising quickly, brutally, leaving no room to resist.

“I'm going to come,” I warned, already voiceless.

“Come in my mouth.”

And that's what I did. I arched all over, squeezed my thighs against her shoulders, and came moaning loudly, shamelessly, trembling while she kept licking until she drew spasms out of me. When she lifted her face, her mouth was shining. She smiled and sucked her fingers while looking into my eyes. I almost came again just seeing it.

She didn't let me recover for long. She lifted me from the armchair and threw me onto the bed. She climbed on top of me and began rubbing her cunt against mine, open, hot, wet. The contact was an immediate jolt. Our pubises slid against each other with increasing pressure, and between kisses we whispered filthy things in each other's ears.

“I've wanted you since I saw you walking,” she told me.

“I wanted to put my hands on you from your very first smile.”

“Then hold me properly now.”

I did. I gripped her ass hard while she rubbed herself against me, searching for the angle that would make her moan. Her tits struck my chest, her nipples scraped my skin, and her breathing was already as desperate as mine. I slid one hand between us and pushed two fingers into her cunt. She was very wet, tight, burning.

“Holy shit, you're so hot.”

“Put them in properly,” she ordered.

I drove them all the way in and began fucking her with my hand while she continued rubbing herself against my pubis. Renata threw her head back and let out a long, dirty moan. I took advantage of it to lick her neck, bite her shoulder, squeeze one tit, and pinch her nipple whenever my fingers struck the right rhythm inside her.

“Harder,” she said through her teeth. “Don't treat me nicely.”

I added a third finger and began fucking her harder. Her cunt swallowed them with a delicious wet sound. She lifted herself slightly to watch me work, then kissed me ferociously, as if she wanted to eat my breath. The mixture of our juices covered my fingers, crotch, and groin.

“Fuck, yes... like that...” she repeated, getting closer and closer.

I made her turn around and get on her stomach. She obeyed without questions, resting on her elbows and knees, her ass raised like an indecent invitation. I spread her buttocks and leaned in to kiss her between them. Her cunt was still open and wet; farther back, her closed ass stirred an old, precise hunger in me.

First I licked slowly, from bottom to top, savoring all of her. She shuddered.

“Keep licking me there,” she said in a broken voice.

I spread her buttocks wider and pushed my tongue into her ass, calmly at first, then with more insistence, tracing circles around it and entering again each time she pushed back, seeking greater depth. With one hand I rubbed her clitoris from underneath, reaching it between the wet folds. Renata began moaning into the pillow, softly at first, then without any control at all.

“You're going to make me come again, bitch.”

“That's what I'm here for.”

I returned to her cunt and thrust my tongue into it furiously, alternating between her opening and her clitoris while my fingers kept punishing her from the front. Her entire body tensed. Her thighs trembled. She tried to pull away, but I held her hips and continued.

“Don't run away now.”

She came with a muffled moan, clutching the sheets and shaking from head to toe. I didn't stop until she begged me to between pants. Then I sat up and looked at her for a moment: hair disheveled, back pearled with sweat, ass still trembling. She was gorgeous.

She turned over and pulled me back onto the bed.

“I'm not finished with you yet,” she said.

She opened a drawer in the nightstand and took out a small silicone toy, simple, clean, unmistakable. She looked at me as if asking permission without stopping her provocation.

“Do you like being penetrated?”

“Yes,” I answered without hesitation. “And right now I need it.”

She lay between my legs and made me open them again. First she sucked my clitoris until I was dripping once more, and only then slid two fingers inside me to prepare me. I gripped the sheets, breathing deeply, feeling my body surrender once again to that rhythm. When she felt I was ready, she replaced her fingers with the toy and began slowly pushing it into me.

The sensation tore a long moan from me. She kept her mouth on my clitoris while the silicone moved in and out with an increasingly firm cadence. It was too much stimulation at once. She had me spread open, fucked, eaten. Each thrust of the toy coincided with a suck or a lick, and I quickly lost count of my own sounds.

“This is how I wanted you,” she murmured, barely lifting her head. “Open and crazy.”

“More... put it deeper...”

She obliged. She increased the speed until my hips began seeking her out on their own. Then, without warning, she sat on my chest so I could lick her cunt while she continued penetrating me. We ended up in an absurd and perfect position: me underneath, her sex in my face, her above me, riding my mouth and fucking me at the same time with her hand.

I licked her with animal devotion. I pushed my tongue inside her, sucked her clitoris, and listened to her say obscene things while her legs trembled on either side of my head. The room filled with panting, wet smacks, and broken commands.

“Don't slow down,” she told me. “Not with your mouth or your cunt.”

I was already on the edge again. The toy struck me inside exactly where it needed to, and her cunt against my tongue finished pushing me over. I felt her come into my mouth first, squeezing my face with her thighs, and that same spasm dragged me over behind her. I came hard, body arched, trembling so violently I almost knocked her off me.

We lay there for a few seconds, undone, sweaty, breathing like exhausted animals. Then she dropped beside me and kissed me slowly, savoring in my mouth what she'd just given me. That combination always drives me crazy.

“I want to do it again tomorrow,” I told her when I could speak.

“I want you to stay tonight.”

The idea excited me, but I also knew I couldn't vanish until dawn without an explanation. I shook my head regretfully. Renata looked at me with an expression halfway between mischievous and resigned, then began stroking my thigh with her fingertips.

“Then come early tomorrow,” she said. “And this time bring less clothing.”

I laughed. Then I leaned over her and gave her another long kiss, this one tenderer but still full of flesh. Before getting dressed, I touched her between the legs again, just to feel that she was still wet from me. She grabbed my wrist and shamelessly sucked two of my fingers.

“Don't make me start again if you're going to leave,” she warned.

I put on my dress with my legs still weak, picked up my thong from the floor, and decided not to put it on. I knew that returning to the hotel with nothing underneath would be my private way of prolonging the date. Before I left, Renata cornered me against the door, lifted my skirt, and slipped her hand between my thighs one last time. She found my sensitive, swollen cunt and smiled.

“This is how I want you to leave,” she murmured. “Well used.”

“And wanting more.”

“I can already see that.”

I went out into the garden with my face composed and my body in delicious ruins. I politely greeted whoever was still in the living room, invented a simple goodbye, and walked back to the hotel with Renata's scent still clinging to my skin. Every step reminded me of the missing thong and the wetness between my legs.

When I arrived, my parents were asleep. I entered my room, looked at myself in the mirror, and smiled as I hadn't smiled in a long time. I felt no guilt. I felt relief. I had returned to a part of myself that was still alive, hungry, intact.

I lay on my back, spread my legs, and could still find on my fingers the trace of what we'd done. I masturbated slowly, remembering her tongue, her commands, her fingers entering me, the way she came over my mouth. I came again in silence, biting my lip so I wouldn't wake anyone.

And as I caught my breath, I knew something with absolute clarity: that hadn't been an isolated adventure. I'd returned to my most addictive pastime. And I intended to enjoy it without ever lying to myself again.