The Spanish Cougar Who Followed Me to the Café

My husband had left early with the kids for Cuernavaca and, for the first time in months, I had the entire Saturday afternoon to myself. I didn’t want to stay home wandering around an empty house, so I put on a short pair of shorts, a fitted black blouse, my denim jacket, and went for a walk around Plaza Universidad.

I bought a hazelnut coffee and a pistachio ice cream, then sat at a table in the back of the food court, one of those pushed against the wall that let you watch everything without anyone watching you. I like observing people. A couple was arguing quietly at the table across from me. A man in a tie was reading the newspaper. Two teenagers were laughing far too loudly.

I was doing that when she sat down across from me.

I didn’t see her coming. I looked up from my phone and suddenly there she was, settling into the chair with the naturalness of someone who had been sitting there all afternoon. A woman around fifty, with blond bobbed hair and well-cared-for cinnamon-colored skin. She wore a fitted pearl-gray blouse, a knee-length black skirt, and dark stockings held up by a garter belt. When she crossed her legs, I caught sight of the clasp.

“Hi, sorry for the boldness, can I sit here for a while?” she said.

Her accent gave her away before anything else. Madrid, or somewhere around there. The drawn-out s’s, the pronounced z’s.

“Uh… sure, I suppose,” I replied, still not understanding what was happening.

“My name’s Carmen. I saw you an hour ago, when I was going into the wine shop downstairs. I followed you. It’s not that I’m a psychopath, I promise. It’s just that I thought you had a very pretty face, and I didn’t feel like missing the chance to say hello.”

I laughed despite myself. It had been a long time since anyone had said anything like that to me with such nerve, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Renata,” I said at last. “And I don’t know what to say.”

“I’m not asking you to say anything, darling. Just let me sit here for a little while. If I bore you, tell me to leave and I’ll leave.”

She didn’t bore me. Carmen talked as if she had known me for years. She told me she had gotten divorced the year before, that her ex-husband had never been able to stomach the fact that she fucked women as well as men, and that she had come to Mexico on vacation to stretch out her body and clear her head. She had two grown children, lived in Madrid but was thinking about moving to Valencia, loved mole but hated spicy food.

I listened, nodded, and watched her. Carmen had a very particular way of moving, as if she knew exactly what her hands were doing at every moment. When she laughed, she threw her head back and her neck stood out. When she looked at me, she didn’t blink much.

“Hey, Renata,” she said at one point. “It’s been two hours now. Aren’t you in a hurry?”

I looked at the clock and realized that yes, it was late, but it wasn’t the kind of late that mattered. My husband and the kids wouldn’t be back until Sunday.

“Not really, to be honest.”

“Look, I’m going to suggest something. I bought a very decent Scotch whisky this morning. I’m staying at a friend’s apartment in Roma. He won’t be here until next week, so I have the place to myself. Would you like to come upstairs for a while and try it with me?”

***

I did want to. That’s the truth. Accepting was a decision I made between my third and fourth sips of coffee, after I had spent a while wondering what her neck would smell like and what it would feel like to put my tongue in the mouth of that Madrid-accented woman.

We got into my car, and Carmen guided me along Insurgentes to a small street in Roma, one of those lined with tall trees and old houses converted into three-story buildings. The apartment was spacious, with hardwood floors and large windows. It smelled of books and something sweet that I would later identify as her perfume.

She poured the whisky into two short glasses, without ice. We sat on a green leather sofa facing an enclosed balcony, and she kept talking. But now she spoke more slowly, leaving long pauses between sentences, and every time she moved, her skirt crept another inch up her thigh.

“Do you have a lover, Renata?” she suddenly asked.

“Here, in Mexico? Oh, no.”

“What a waste. A woman like you should have at least two. One to fuck you properly and another to eat your pussy like God intended.”

I laughed and took a big swallow of whisky. It burned in my chest and lower down too.

“I saw the logo of a lingerie store on one of your bags,” I said, because I had to say something and because it was true.

“Well, aren’t you observant. Yes, I bought something very cute in case the occasion arose.”

“And is it going to arise?”

“That depends on you, darling. Do you want me to show it to you?”

I nodded before thinking about it.

Carmen stood, picked up the paper bag, and went into the back bedroom. I stayed sitting there with the glass in my hand, looking at the windows, listening to the city noise in the background, and wondering what the hell I was doing. But the question didn’t really hurt. It was a weak question, without conviction. I was already wet between my legs, and my panties clung to my pussy with every breath.

When she came back, I set the glass on the table so I wouldn’t spill it.

She was wearing a black baby-doll made of transparent gauze, a tiny thong, and the same dark stockings with garter belt. The gauze revealed two large, dark nipples, already hard, and the triangle of the thong barely covered the slit of a shaved pussy outlined beneath the fabric. The outfit fit her as if it had been made to measure. She had the legs of someone who walked a lot, straight shoulders, and a defined waist. She walked toward me barefoot, unhurried.

“What do you think?” she asked, stopping between my knees.

“It looks very good on you,” I said, my voice coming out lower than I wanted.

“Yours looks better than mine, that’s for sure. But there’s still something to be said for this one, isn’t there?”

She turned around to show me her back and ass. The thong disappeared between her buttocks, two firm half-moons that made me want to bite them. When she turned to look at me again, her expression had changed. She was still smiling, but the smile was different, slower, more confident.

She leaned down and kissed me.

It wasn’t a test kiss. It was the kiss of someone who had already decided. Her mouth tasted of whisky and something floral. Her tongue slipped between my teeth without asking permission, found mine, and played with it until a moan escaped me. Her hands settled on my thighs without the slightest hesitation, as if they had belonged there all their lives, and slid beneath my shorts until they brushed over my panties and the mound beneath them. I closed my eyes and let it happen.

“I knew you weren’t going to back out,” she murmured when she pulled away a millimeter. “You look like the kind of girl who doesn’t back out. And you’re soaked, darling; I can feel it through your clothes.”

***

She took me to the bedroom without stopping her kisses. The bed had white, starched, cold sheets. She sat me on the edge and began taking off my clothes with a strange calmness, lingering over each garment as if she were seeing it for the first time. When she opened my jeans and pulled them down my legs, she crouched to look at my panties and smiled when she saw the dark stain at the crotch.

“Look at what you’ve done to yourself,” she said, running a finger over the wet fabric. “You’re a beautiful little slut.”

“Carmen…”

“Shhh. Let me.”

She tore off my blouse and bra, then spent a long while looking at my tits with that unblinking expression.

“Renata,” she said when she had finished undressing me. “What legs you have. And what a gorgeous pussy, fuck.”

“You’ve been seeing them all day.”

“That’s why. I’ve spent hours thinking about spreading them open.”

When I was naked, she gently pushed me down so I would lie back. She started at my neck and moved downward. Her tongue, her teeth, one firm hand against the side of my ribs. She lingered over my nipples, sucking them deeply until I felt them throb, nibbling them, then blowing cold air over them to watch me shudder. She pinched them between her thumb and forefinger while looking me in the eyes, and every tug pulled a direct thread down to my pussy. I moaned softly, not wanting to make noise and unable to stop myself.

“Had you ever been with a mature woman before?” she asked, speaking to my belly as she left a trail of saliva from my navel downward.

“Never like you.”

“Bingo,” she said, laughing against my skin. “Let me.”

She opened my legs with both hands and settled between them like someone sitting down to eat a favorite dish. For a second she simply stared at my open, glistening pussy, then blew on it slowly. My lips contracted on their own.

“You’re dripping, darling.”

“Shut up and eat me.”

The first lick was slow, long, exploratory: she ran from my perineum to my clitoris in a single flat stroke, gathering all my wetness in one pass. The second already had purpose: she pressed the tip of her tongue against my clitoris and made it dance. By the third, I was gripping the sheets and biting my lower lip so hard I thought I would split it.

Carmen licked with a precision I had never felt before. She knew exactly when to press and when to ease off, when to close her lips around my clitoris and suck it until I howled, when to move lower and push her whole tongue into my pussy, fucking me with quick, short thrusts. One hand held my hip so I couldn’t move; the other ran up and down my thigh, keeping a different rhythm from her mouth, until two fingers separated from the rest and plunged inside me with a sharp movement. I felt them curl as they searched for that spot up front, and when she found it, a cry escaped me.

“There, right?” she murmured against my pussy, without removing her fingers. “That’s where your husband never touches you.”

“Keep going, Carmen, please, keep going.”

“As you wish.”

Her fingers began moving in and out at a firm pace, splashing through how wet I was, while her tongue kept working my clitoris. I felt everything building in my belly, that electric tingling rising inside you without warning.

“Get on your stomach,” she said after a while, withdrawing her fingers with a wet snap. “I want to see you from behind. I want to eat your ass.”

I obeyed without thinking, trembling. I knelt with my chest against the mattress and my buttocks in the air. Carmen calmly spread my cheeks with both hands and spent a second looking at me there, exposed and obscene. She kissed me first between my lower back and the beginning of my thigh. Then lower. Then she ran her flat tongue slowly from my clitoris to my anus and stopped right there to circle it.

“What an ass you have, fuck.”

“Oh, Carmen…”

“Relax.”

Her tongue pushed into my ass and made its way inside, playing with my anus until I could no longer breathe properly. At the same time, two of her fingers plunged into my pussy again and began moving in slow circles, while her thumb caressed my clitoris from below. Three fronts at once. I didn’t know where to look inside my own head.

“Fuck,” she murmured against my ass, her voice hoarse. “I love you. I love how wet I’ve made you.”

I couldn’t answer. My face was buried in the pillow, and all I could manage was a deep, animal sound I didn’t recognize as my own. Carmen’s fingers went deeper and deeper, and her tongue never stopped moving between my buttocks.

“Come on, darling,” she insisted, pulling out her tongue for a second to speak. “Come for me. Come all over my face.”

I came. So hard that I felt myself soaking her hand, felt a hot stream run down her wrist, felt a long cry tear out of me into the pillow, felt my legs shake beyond my control. My pussy clenched in spasms around her fingers, squeezing them, and she didn’t pull them out. She left them there, still, feeling every throb, while she licked me very slowly to ease me down. She still gave me a couple more kisses across my back and a gentle bite on my buttock before climbing up to lie beside me.

“You’re beautiful when you come,” she said, stroking my hair with the hand she hadn’t put inside me. “And you taste delicious.”

“Your turn.”

“Don’t rush.”

“Yes, I am. Come here.”

***

I turned her onto her back and positioned myself over her. Carmen smiled like a cat that knew it had already won. I pulled the baby-doll over her head, leaving her in only her stockings and garter belt, and tore off her thong by pulling one side until the seam gave way. She laughed.

“Hungry, are we?”

“Shut up.”

I began slowly tracing her body, returning as best I could what she had done to me. Her breasts were heavier than I had imagined, with large, dark nipples already hard. I took one entirely into my mouth and sucked it unhurriedly, tugging it with my teeth and listening to her breathing grow heavier. I ran my tongue along the hollow between them and bit the other one. I moved down over her ribs, her belly, and the inner surfaces of her thighs. I kissed the skin just above her stockings, that exposed strip the bedroom light made almost obscene, and bit her there until I left a mark.

When I licked her, she spread her legs and gripped my hair with both hands. She wasn’t pushing me, only setting the rhythm. Carmen was completely shaved, and her pussy was thick and swollen, her inner lips protruding, purple with arousal. She tasted clean, slightly salty, and was already dripping. I ran my flat tongue from bottom to top, gathered all her wetness, and swallowed it. Then I focused on her clitoris, which jutted hard between the folds, and gave it quick licks until she began moving her hips against my face.

I pushed in two fingers while continuing with my mouth, and felt her thighs tense against my shoulders. I pulled them out wet, moved them farther back, and rubbed her anus with my middle finger until I slid it in to the knuckle. She jerked.

“Fuck, darling, you learn fast.”

“I’m learning from you.”

I put two fingers in her pussy and one in her ass, moving them at different rhythms while sucking her clitoris the way she had sucked mine. Carmen began gasping with the thick-tongued Spanish words of a woman losing her head.

“Christ, Renata, keep going, don’t stop,” she panted. “Like that, don’t stop, don’t stop, you’re going to make me lose it, fuck.”

I felt her rise. Her entire pelvis went rigid, lifting from the mattress, and she came, pressing my face against her pussy with both hands on the back of my head. I swallowed everything she released and didn’t let her go until the trembling had completely passed.

“Turn around,” I told her hoarsely.

“You’re killing me.”

“Turn around.”

I turned her over, just as she had turned me over, and spread her buttocks with my hands. Her ass was firm and round, marked by the line of the garter belt. I kissed her between the cheeks with the same intensity, extending my tongue and pushing it into her anus until I felt her open for me. Carmen howled softly into the pillow, a stray obscenity every few seconds. Her hips lifted, seeking more, offering themselves.

“Eat me properly, slut.”

“That’s how you like it, isn’t it?”

“Like that, like that, fuck, like that.”

I reached underneath her and pushed my fingers into her pussy again while eating her ass. She thrust backward, seeking my fingers, seeking my tongue, unable to decide which of the two she wanted more.

We turned her over again and ended up kneeling on the bed, facing each other, kissing like teenagers, our mouths smeared with each other. She put her hand between my legs, and I put mine between hers. We masturbated each other at the same time without stopping our kisses, feeling the other grow wetter and wetter, feeling her clitoris harden beneath my finger, feeling mine dance beneath hers. There was splashing. It sounded as if we were kneading something wet.

“Lie down,” she suddenly said, her voice broken. “Spread your legs; I’m going to ride you. I want to rub my pussy against yours until we both come.”

I lay back, and she settled on top of me, open over my thigh, fitting her sex against mine. At first she searched for the angle, moving slowly until both clitorises met. She began moving her hips, slowly at first, then faster. I raised my pelvis to meet her. Our bellies collided, sweat against sweat, pussy against pussy, and every rub sent a different jolt through me. Her breasts hung over my face, and I stretched my neck to suck them while she rocked against me.

“Harder, Carmen, harder.”

“Hold on, darling, hold on a little longer.”

I grabbed her buttocks with both hands and pulled her against me, setting the rhythm, squeezing us together until the friction became almost unbearable. She braced one hand against the headboard and reached for one of my tits with the other, squeezing it as she moved. The splashing between our pussies was obscene, wet, and loud.

“I’m going,” she said at some point, eyes closed. “I’m going, darling, fuck, I’m going, come with me.”

“Me too, come on, come on, come on.”

We came almost at the same time. It was a shared orgasm, long and drawn out, our pussies pressed together as we felt each other’s spasms against our own. She collapsed onto me, panting against my neck, and stayed there for a long while without speaking, all her weight on top of me. Our sexes remained pressed together, throbbing. I stroked her sweat-damp back as our breathing gradually settled.

***

Afterward, with the lights turned low, we sat on the bed with the whisky glasses in our hands again. Carmen gave me one of her friend’s huge T-shirts and kept only her stockings on, utterly shameless, her pussy still glistening between her thighs.

“Are you all right?” she asked me.

“I’m better than all right.”

“Are you going to feel guilty tomorrow?”

I thought about it. Guilt was there, crouching like a dog waiting for me to turn out the light. But there was also that other thing, that feeling of being alive for the first time in a long while, my pussy still throbbing beneath the T-shirt, and there really was no comparison between the two.

“Not much,” I said.

“Then come back tomorrow.”

I laughed.

“I can’t. I have to be home before they get back.”

“All right, then another day. I’m here for two more weeks. You have my number. And I’m warning you: next time I’m bringing a strap-on and I’m going to fuck you properly, darling, until you can’t remember your own name.”

She gave it to me. I saved it under a fake name, just in case. I felt a tug between my legs just thinking about it.

Carmen went back to Spain a month and a half later. We saw each other three more afternoons before she left, and yes, she kept her promise about the strap-on, along with other things she hadn’t even promised me. She wrote to me every few weeks during the first year—photos of the Mediterranean, book recommendations, an occasional photo of herself wearing less clothing than she had patience, and the occasional whispered voice message I had to listen to locked in the bathroom with my hand beneath my pants. After that, we drifted apart, as usually happens between people who cross paths only once in a lifetime.

But now she’s told me she’s coming back in September.

And once again, I don’t know what to do with Saturday afternoon.