My Mother's Mature Friend on Midsummer Night

I lived quietly in Barcelona. My job as an interior designer let me do what I had always wanted, and I thought I was in love with Clara, a year younger than me, a communications manager for a cosmetics brand. Everything seemed perfect.

Until one afternoon I got home earlier than expected and found her with someone else. My world fell apart. I sank into a heavy depression, and when I came out of it, with my head finally clear, I took advantage of a client's commission to move to the coast of Murcia, where I had spent my summers as a child.

That client, who had made his fortune in construction, gave me a small but beautiful apartment in Cabo de Palos, with a terrace where the sunsets looked painted. At thirty-one I started to regain my excitement: projects came my way, and I had gone back to running every morning along the promenade, with the Mediterranean still asleep on one side.

That June morning I had to stop by city hall to ask about some permits for refurbishing an estate. While I waited at the planning department reception, amid the hum of the ceiling fans and the clatter of keyboards, someone greeted me.

—Well, if it isn’t the ghost interior designer —Noelia said with a sly grin.

She was the section head in urban planning. Brunette, provocative. We had slept together a couple of times, a game with no promises that she knew better than anyone.

—Good morning, Noelia.

—It’s very early for you —she added, crossing her arms over the counter—. It’s been a while since you and I had a little time together.

—I need the status of the Bernal estate file —I said, dodging the issue.

—You haven’t been caught already, have you? —she threw out, arching an eyebrow.

I didn’t answer. She smiled, certain of something that didn’t exist.

—Well, I got it right. One from around here, or a tourist, quick fuck and goodbye, heart kept safe?

—I’ll call you —I cut in, grabbed the papers, and got out of there.

It suited me to keep up the friendship, but the problem was that Noelia looked too much like Clara: physically, and in the life she could offer me.

***

Once my errands were done, I headed over to the yacht club, where I had a small boat moored. As I passed the café La Marea, a table with three women caught my eye. One of them looked incredibly familiar, but I couldn’t place her.

The next morning I went down to have breakfast facing the sea, as I had gotten used to doing. Black coffee, toast with olive oil and tomato. And that was when I saw her.

First I heard a shrill laugh, the kind that bursts out uncontrollably. And I recognized them: the three women from the day before, and her, Marta, whom I hadn’t seen in two or three years. She had been our neighbor in summer; I remembered her going down to the beach with her children. Dani, her son, was a friend of mine. She was slimmer now, wearing a summer dress that showed firm shoulders, dark sunglasses, lighter hair worn loose. She looked to be in her early thirties, though if Dani was my age, she would be around fifty-two.

When she turned her head she smiled back at me, as if she recognized me without recognizing me. It took her a few seconds.

—Hugo! —she said, with a gesture halfway between maternal and nostalgic.

I went over and she introduced me to her friends as a childhood neighbor. They joked about my age and my skin, burned by sailing. She told me they had come for the San Juan festivities, and they walked away with that air of people who know they’re being watched.

I was left staring at the empty chair. As a teenager I had been fascinated by her figure; now I found her even more attractive. What was she doing alone on the coast? And Esteban, her husband? Probably another marriage broken at fifty, like my parents’.

***

That night, at El Faro, packed as always on the eve of the bonfires, I saw her again.

She was at a high table with her two friends. Dressed in black, fitted, simple, but impossible not to look at. Legs crossed, a glass in hand, a mature body that was frankly mouthwatering. Her blue eyes found me before I made up my mind. She raised an eyebrow and tipped her head toward me.

I went over. Her friends welcomed me with laughter and deliberately loud comments.

—Look who’s here —one of them said, nudging Marta.

She pointed to the stool beside her.

—I don’t want to intrude, Marta. You’re out with your friends.

—Don’t be silly —she replied quickly—. I was really happy to see you this morning. And besides, you scare off the vultures.

I stayed with their group, dancing, moving closer to Marta, who didn’t reject my proximity. Despite the age difference and the fact that she was Esteban’s wife, she attracted me more than anyone else in the room. Around midnight, while Gloria and Rosa were flirting with two men, Marta looked at me with those eyes that seemed to bore right through me.

—Will you walk me home? No need to tell you where it is.

I knew very well: she lived in the same building where my parents had their apartment. I nodded, set down my glass, and we went out onto the promenade. The dampness of the night clung to the skin without weighing it down.

—Do you feel like taking a walk first? —she asked.

—I’ll escort you.

She rolled up her dress, I hiked up my trouser legs, and we walked barefoot along the shore, our shoes in our hands. At first we were silent, with only the murmur of the sea.

—How long have you been living here? —she asked.

—Since the beginning of the year. They offered me a project and I needed to get out of Barcelona.

She stopped to look at the horizon, as if searching for something to lean on before speaking.

—I’ve come here running away too. I’m thinking about divorce. But it’s not easy after thirty years breathing the same air.

I turned toward her. The moon softened her face, and deep in her eyes there was a trace of sadness.

—Infidelity? —I asked bluntly.

—No, not that I know of. I’m tired of the life I lead. I’ve wasted half my life with someone who stopped looking at me as a woman long ago. I’m just his friend.

I listened to her, and at the same time a brutal desire grew in me. My cock was hardening inside my trousers just from imagining the body hinted at beneath that black dress, and I had to quicken my pace to hide it.

—And what would you do in my place? —she asked suddenly.

—I’m not the one to decide for you, Marta. But if after so many years love hasn’t taken hold, it’s hard for it to catch now.

—I’m afraid of making the wrong choice. Maybe it’s just the fantasies of a woman about to turn a year older. Shall we go back?

We walked slowly to her building. She searched for her keys in her bag and, when she found them, looked up with a different gleam in her eyes.

—Thanks for walking me home. See? I haven’t taken a walk like this with Esteban in years.

The door was left slightly ajar. She stood there, waiting for something. I couldn’t bring myself to make the move, so she stepped in and kissed me. A short, soft kiss. Then she turned and disappeared up the stairs, leaving me in front of the doorway with the taste of her mouth and the salt of the sea on my lips, and my hard cock pressed against my zipper.

***

I woke with her memory stuck to my skin and my cock rigid against my belly. I jerked off thinking of her before the shower, imagining her mouth around it, and came into my hand with a rough groan. At nine I was debating whether to write to her when her message spared me the decision.

—Breakfast downstairs?

—Perfect. Want to go sailing afterward?

—Do you have a boat? —she asked when she called me—. What if I prepare a picnic and we spend the day at sea? I don’t have plans until tonight.

When I went out into the street, the town had transformed: music, the smell of gunpowder and churros, white shirts. Marta arrived with a sunhat, a floral pareo over her bikini, and a little fabric cooler.

—Good morning, captain —she said—. I’m so excited to go out to sea!

Strangely enough, over coffee we were more awkward than the night before.

—I’m surprised you’re not seeing anyone —she remarked—. Would you like to fall in love again?

—More than anything. But a substitute for love won’t do, and the right person hasn’t shown up. Though last night you surprised me.

She fell silent, set down her cup with a slow movement, and looked me straight in the face.

—I’m surprised too. By last night, and by going sailing with you. Alone.

***

At midday I slipped the moorings. I unfurled the sails and left the club behind, until the shoreline became a silhouette. I set course for Isla Grosa, with its crystal-clear waters, where we could anchor and swim. I handed the helm to Marta; the wind opened her pareo and her eyes, without sunglasses, were a blue in which one could lose oneself without wanting to be rescued.

When I took back the controls, she climbed to the bow and lay down with her arms open to the sun. I watched her from the helm, hypnotized. Something in her had changed since those summers when I used to see her go down to the beach as just another mother.

I dropped anchor near the island. She grabbed a pair of diving goggles and jumped into the water.

—You were right, the blue is beautiful. Will you swim with me?

The Mediterranean wrapped around us, salty and free, just as she was wrapping around me. Despite her age, Marta swam with harmonious movements. After a while she came near the hull and leaned against it; I went over beside her, face to face, half submerged.

—You didn’t expect this when you left Barcelona —I said.

—This what?

—Being on a boat with an old friend of your son’s.

—No. But last night, after the walk, I thought about you. As if a window that had been closed for years opened, and now only let in air.

Under the water our legs brushed, and I felt her thigh pass over my cock, which responded at once, swelling against my swim trunks. She felt it too, because she smiled without moving away, pressing herself against me just a second longer before pushing off toward the ladder. On climbing up I had to shift aside to hide the erection the contact had brought on. We laid two towels on the bow and stretched out in the sun.

—Imagine the boat is part of a dream —I said—. Feel free.

As if my words encouraged her, she sat up, undid the bikini top, and remained topless with the most absolute naturalness. Her tits were round, firm, the nipples browned by the sun and already hard from the cool air. She rubbed cream onto her shoulders, and a drop ran down her chest to the edge of her nipple. She must have noticed my expression.

—You told me to feel free. Does it bother you?

—No. You just surprised me. I didn’t remember you being so… young.

—Young? I’m fifty-two, two less than your mother. Nature was generous with me.

I nodded and went for two beers. Seeking shade, she leaned against my chest and traced lines across my skin with her finger while the conversation drifted to fears, to routines that suffocate, to dreams abandoned for the sake of comfort.

—Do you know what scares me? —she whispered—. That I like this more than I should.

She leaned in and kissed me with a tenderness that undid me. Then she lay on top of me, one leg tangled with mine, and I felt her cunt, barely covered by the wet fabric of her bikini bottoms, pressing against my thigh. The sun, the beer and the rocking motion gradually wore her down until she fell asleep in my arms.

Having her beside me with her chest bare was far too strong a temptation. There was no rush, only desire and an almost unreal calm. I stroked one of her breasts, much firmer than her age would have suggested, and pinched her nipple between two fingers until I felt it harden even more. I moved my hand to her bikini bottoms and, with some shyness, slid my fingers inside. Her pubic hair was short, barely a shadow, and beneath it the skin was hot and wet, already soaked through. She trembled without opening her eyes.

—Mmm… —she murmured.

I brushed her clit with my fingertip, slowly, drawing small circles, and felt it swell beneath my finger. Her breathing grew ragged, her lips parted slightly, and moisture dripped between my fingers. I went a little lower and sank the pad of my middle finger into the entrance of her cunt, not pushing it in, just to test the slippery warmth coming from inside. Then she opened her eyes and I jerked my hand away.

—Hugo! What’s wrong?

—Nothing, it was a seagull. Go back to sleep —I improvised, whispering in her ear until she fell asleep again.

I didn’t dare continue, but I stayed hooked on her, with my fingers still smelling of her cunt and my cock hard under my trunks.

***

We came into port as the sun was going down. She invited me to shower at her place, an apartment with a terrace, books, and plants. I came out and found her in the kitchen, wearing a T-shirt over her still-wet body, opening two beers that we drank straight from the bottle.

—I don’t want to complicate your life, or mine —I said honestly—. But we can both afford to explore something without committing to anything.

—After all, we’re adults —she replied—. We decide for ourselves, without anyone judging us.

—What are your plans tonight?

—I’m going with the girls to the golf club. They want to burn everything down. And you?

—The beach, with friends. Bonfires, music. Why don’t you come? Stop being a spectator.

—What would I be doing among girls your age? I’ll keep the memory of today —she gave in—. What San Juan ritual do you follow?

—The classic one. Jump over the fire four times forward and three times back, burning something you want to forget. Though the more recent tradition says that tonight you have to burn on the bonfire of passion.

Her smile came out strained. I left resigned, with the feeling that I was letting a unique opportunity slip away.

***

By ten I was already on the beach, drinking with the group, getting ready for the jumps, when the phone rang.

—How’s the night going?

I stepped away toward the shore.

—Lots of fire, lots of beer. Only you’re missing.

There was a pause.

—Have fun —she said goodbye.

I laughed like an automaton, but I was somewhere else. An hour later another message arrived.

—Do you still notice my absence?

—More than ever.

—Why don’t you come and get me, then?

I grabbed the motorbike and shot off. When I arrived at the club, I saw her by the outdoor bar: a white Ibiza-style dress, very low-cut, tied at the back with cords, her blonde mane curled by the sea. She was laughing with her friends, but her eyes were fixed on the entrance. When she saw me, she smiled without pretending.

—You took your time —she said in my ear.

—I had to cross circles of fire.

Before we left, Gloria pulled me aside.

—Behave yourself. Marta deserves a special night. Be as affectionate as you know how.

I didn’t need any pushing, but it didn’t hurt to know I was accepted. We went back to the beach walking through the sand between bonfires, she with her sandals in her hand and a gleam of pure vertigo in her eyes.

She stopped to look at a bonfire where the flames crackled lazily. She took a crumpled handwritten sheet from her bag and held it over the fire for a second.

—It was a letter I started writing to my husband. I didn’t know whether to tell him I was leaving him or coming back. It doesn’t matter. Tonight I want to burn the fact that I’m “so-and-so’s wife.” I just want to be me.

She let it fall into the fire. The letters curled, sparked, and turned to ash. She turned to me, her skin lit by the glow.

—And tonight I don’t want you to be my neighbors’ son either. I want you to be just you.

I brought my mouth to her neck and left a long kiss. I felt her press against me, and I took it as permission. I brushed her hair aside and kissed her on the mouth, with the intense slowness of the inevitable. Our tongues found each other, her hand went up to my nape, mine circled her waist and slid down to press her ass against my cock, which was already hard and pushing against her belly. She rubbed against me for a second, without hiding it, and I felt a gasp escape her into my mouth.

***

Near four o’clock we were among the last people left on the beach. The boat was a step away and I chose to spend the night on the water. She came aboard, stumbling a little.

—I’ve never slept on a boat.

—Who said anything about sleeping?

I offered her a beer, but she shook her head.

—I don’t want to drink anymore. Tonight I want to feel everything. Do I really turn you on? That’s the only thing I need to know.

I didn’t want a body surrendered by alcohol; I wanted her mind to want it too.

—You drive me crazy, Marta.

—Then fuck me until dawn.

We went down into the cabin. The orange light from the swing lamp painted her skin bronze. I undid the knots of her dress, slowly pulling each cord free, and the fabric slid over her skin as if the whole night were undressing her. She wasn’t wearing a bra. Her tits came into view, round and heavy, the brown nipples bristling with pure desire. She pulled her own bikini bottoms down, and I stood still staring at her nearly fully shaved cunt, with a thin strip of blond hair above, the lips already shining with moisture. Just her body, firm and mature, her quickened breathing and those eyes that never avoided mine. I stripped too, without urgency. When my trunks fell to the floor, my cock sprang up, rigid, the tip already wet, and she bit her lower lip without looking away.

—Fuck, what a cock you’ve got —she murmured, reaching out and closing her hand around it. She started moving her fist slowly, up and down, squeezing with the exact measure of someone who has fucked her whole life—. I hadn’t seen one this hard in months.

—Tonight I’m neither mother nor wife —she added, kneeling without letting go of me—. I’m just Marta. I don’t know whether I’m fifty-two or thirty. I only know I want you inside me. But first I’m going to suck you off properly.

She opened her mouth and took it all the way in with one thrust. I felt the wet heat wrap around me to the base and her tongue curling underneath, searching for my frenulum. She pulled back and buried it again, saliva running down her chin and onto my balls, never taking her eyes off me from below with those blue eyes loaded with lust. I ran my hands into her hair and helped her set the pace. She licked my balls one by one, climbed the vein of my cock licking, took the tip in her mouth and played with her tongue over the glans, then swallowed me back down to the hilt, her throat tightening around the head. Saliva hung from her in strings and she laughed between muffled moans.

—Mmm, so good —she said when she pulled off for a second, spitting saliva over the glans before sucking again—. I could stay like this all night.

We lay down without another word, rocked by the sea. I pushed her onto her back on the narrow bed and pried her legs open with my knees. I caressed every inch of her breasts, squeezed them, sucked them, felt her trembling, her restrained desire. I kissed her neck, her shoulders, and kept going down her belly until I buried my face between her thighs. Her cunt smelled of sea and woman. I parted her lips with my thumbs and ran my whole tongue along the slit, bottom to top, ending on the swollen clit. She jolted as if struck by a whip.

—There, fuck, right there, don’t stop.

I licked her without mercy. I thrust my tongue hard into her cunt, pulled it out and went back to her clit, sucking, nibbling softly. I slid in two fingers, then three, curling them upward, and she started lifting her hips against my face, smothering cries with her arm pressed over her mouth. I could feel her getting wetter and wetter, and all that salty taste dripped down my chin. When my fingers returned to her clit while my tongue licked her entrance, she arched her back completely and spread her legs until her knees almost touched her shoulders, sobbing.

—Put it in me already, Hugo, I can’t take it anymore. Fuck me already, please.

I positioned myself over her and rested the head of my cock at the entrance. I pushed in slowly, watching my cock disappear inside that tight, hot cunt until I buried it all the way. She let out a rough cry, her eyes rolling back for a second, her nails digging into my back. I started in and out with slow, deep thrusts, and her moans rose in intensity with every hit of my hips.

—Like that, slowly… savor it… like that, all the way in… —she begged, grabbing my ass with both hands so I wouldn’t pull out all the way.

I was intoxicated by her smell, the fire in her eyes, the wet noise of my cock sliding in and out of her cunt. I lifted one leg and put it over my shoulder to fuck her from another angle, deeper, and I felt my glans strike a spot that made her convulse.

—Ah, fuck, there, there, there… —she panted, no longer able to control herself—. I’m going to come, I’m going to come, don’t stop, don’t stop…

It only took a few more movements for her cunt to clamp around my cock in violent spasms and her whole body to shake, wracked by the release of an orgasm she had been storing up for months. A long cry escaped her, echoing off the cabin walls, and I felt a hot gush soak my balls.

—You’ve awakened the animal that was sleeping. Now it’s your turn to feed it.

I pulled out of her to prolong the moment, my cock shining and dripping with her juices. She hugged me, pushed me back onto the mattress, climbed on top and with her hand guided my shaft to the entrance. She dropped down all at once, spearing herself to the hilt with a groan of pleasure, opening her sex the way she opened her mouth to my kisses. She held still for a second, tightening her cunt around my cock, and looked at me with a wicked smile.

—Can you feel how tight I am on you? I still have a young girl’s cunt, don’t I?

—Fuck, yes. Ride me, damn it.

She rode me slowly at first, rising to the tip and letting herself drop all the way down, squeezing me, trying to stretch out every second. Her tits bounced at the level of my face and I grabbed one after the other, sucking her nipples while she went up and down.

—Do you like how I fuck you? Do you like how this mature woman’s cunt is sucking you?

—A lot. But you can go harder. Fuck me harder, Marta.

The hint gave her wings and she launched into a wild gallop, her mane disheveled, her breasts keeping time with her hips, the sound of her ass slapping against my thighs filling the cabin. I took her hips in both hands and helped her move faster, thrusting from below, driving my cock deep on every drop. Her cunt was dripping, a hot stream running over my balls.

—Tell me dirty things, Hugo, tell me. Nobody’s talked dirty to me in years.

—You’re a hot little bitch, Marta. Look at you gobbling my cock. You were aching for a good fucking, huh?

—Yes, yes… do something filthy to me. Fuck me from behind. I want you to put your cock in me from behind.

I laid her down, put her on all fours on the bed, ass pointed toward me, back arched, looking over her shoulder at me with her tongue out. I slapped each cheek and shoved my cock into her cunt again, now from behind, with all my strength. I grabbed her hair, pulling gently, and started fucking her like a beast, the sound of my hips hitting her ass, her tits swinging below, her moans turning into screams.

—Like that, like that, give it to me hard, harder, tear my cunt apart…

I sucked my thumb and pressed it to her asshole, pushing without quite going in. She moaned louder and pushed her ass back.

—Put it in, put it in there too, you filthy bastard…

I sank it in slowly to the knuckle while I kept fucking her cunt, and felt her shudder all over. She stayed like that for a few minutes, arched, gasping, until another orgasm shook her and she collapsed face down, with my cock still inside her. I grabbed her hips and sped up, aware I had seconds left, until I heard her scream beneath me. I pulled out at the very last moment and came in thick spurts over her ass and back, breathing hard, growling her name, giving her the first of the many fucks that would come after. She turned around, sank two fingers into the semen sliding over her skin, and brought them to her mouth with a smile.

—Fuck, you’re so good —she laughed afterward, wrapped around me, speaking in a naughty way I had never heard from her before—. And you make me feel so dirty. You’ve dominated me however you wanted.

—And that’s only the beginning —I whispered, still sucking one of her nipples.

We rested for barely a while, speaking softly, until I felt her hand sliding down my belly again. She took my soft cock and started stroking it slowly, with her fingers, with her palm, until she woke it up again. She climbed on top once more, this time facing away, giving me the view of her ass as she speared herself and moved her hips in circles.

—Watch my ass while you fuck me —she panted—. Touch it. Spread it.

I spread her cheeks with both hands, watching my cock go in and out of her soaked cunt, and she came again, trembling, letting herself fall back onto my chest. When I finally exploded inside her with one last thrust, I felt the semen fill her completely and spill between her thighs.

We made love as if the world were about to end, fucking in every corner of the cabin, on the little table, against the bulkhead, with her on her knees sucking me off once more, until the first light filtered through the porthole and exhaustion overcame us, locked in an embrace amid the soft creaking of the bed and the murmur of the sea, with the sheets soaked and the smell of sex mingling with the salt air.

***

Marta went back to Barcelona a few days later. I didn’t ask her about Esteban and she didn’t tell me anything about her decision. Luckily I had signed on a villa project that devoured my time, and her memory was enough to make me turn down the dinners Noelia kept inviting me to.

One morning I went down for breakfast as usual when someone stopped by my table.

—Is this seat taken?

The timbre of that voice was unmistakable. I lifted my head and her smile dazzled me.

—What are you doing here? Why didn’t you let me know?

—I wanted to see your face when you found me —she smiled.

—How long are you staying?

—They owed me days from last year, the vacation… Can you put up with me for two and a half months?