The Mature Lady Who Pulled Me Out to Dance at That Wedding

I was forty-five years old, my divorce signed four months earlier, and in no mood to put on a linen shirt to attend anybody’s wedding. But Rodrigo had called me personally to ask, and his father had been one of my best friends since adolescence. Declining would have been an offense neither of them would ever have forgotten.

So there I was, on a Saturday in June at an estate outside Valladolid, wearing beige trousers that had spent two seasons in the closet and an attitude that was, at best, polite.

That morning a woman I didn’t know at all had called me.

“Marcos, it’s Carmen. Laura’s great-aunt. Rodrigo told me you were going to stop by the hotel, but there’s no need to go to the trouble. Beatriz and Andrés will pick me up.”

“It’s no trouble,” I replied, though at that moment I didn’t quite remember who Laura was or what hotel or who Beatriz and Andrés were.

“How kind you are. See you there.”

She hung up before I could say anything else.

I arrived on time, which, as I discovered when I parked, was not exactly the norm at that wedding. There were about thirty people by the entrance to the estate, welcome drinks in hand, waiting for someone to organize the usual chaos of seating and photos.

Rodrigo found me among the group and started introducing me. Beatriz and Andrés, the bride’s aunt and uncle. Both were around sixty. She was plump and easygoing. He was thin and quiet, the sort of man who never takes the initiative in any conversation.

And then there was Carmen.

White hair, short, perfectly styled. A black dress with a V-neck that left little to the imagination. Her arms’ skin without a wrinkle too many. When Rodrigo said her name, she gave me two kisses and smiled in a way that lingered a second longer than necessary before fading.

“So you’re the taxi driver who isn’t needed anymore,” she said.

“I was only a taxi driver if you paid,” I replied, without thinking too much about it.

She laughed. A laugh that didn’t ask anyone’s permission.

I don’t know what I expected from a seventy-year-old woman. What I saw didn’t fit any preconceived image. Carmen was slim, with straight shoulders and that bearing only years well lived can give you. The legs, beneath the dress that fell to just above the knee, were those of someone who walks a lot and without hurry. The neckline revealed enough that I had to make a conscious effort to keep eye contact with her tits peeking out beneath the fabric.

The ceremony was brief. The bride and groom said what they had to say to each other, there were applause, photos, the chaos of the tables. I found my seat: between Carmen and Beatriz. Across from me, Andrés. The other two chairs at the table stayed empty all night because the couple who were supposed to sit there had canceled for health reasons.

There were four of us.

Dinner was long and the wine did its work. As the courses went on, the conversation lost the formal edges that the first hours of a wedding among strangers usually have. I learned that Carmen had been widowed for fourteen years, that she lived alone in Valencia, and that she wasn’t interested in men her own age because, in her own words, “their dicks don’t get hard anymore even with a crane.”

“So what’s life for, then?” I asked her.

She looked at me over her glass of Ribera del Duero and, without lowering her voice enough, replied:

“For fucking, Marcos. For fucking until the body says enough. Everything else is killing time.”

When Rodrigo and Laura stopped by the table, they stayed longer than usual. Before moving on, Laura leaned in and spoke in my ear:

“Watch out for Carmen. She’s a devourer. She’ll suck off any cock that isn’t careful.”

“She’s seventy years old,” I replied.

“Exactly,” Laura said, and walked away with a smile.

Later Daniel, Rodrigo’s father, appeared. He greeted us all, spent a while with us, and before leaving pointed at Carmen and me:

“Careful with this one. He’s always liked women older than him.”

Carmen set her glass carefully on the table and replied without hesitation:

“The one who should be careful is him. I’ve gone many years without taking advantage of a man, and this one looks like he’ll end the night with my nail marks on his ass.”

Andrés burst out laughing. Beatriz too. I took a sip of wine and felt my dick start moving inside my trousers.

***

When the DJ put on the first Latin tracks, Carmen looked at me from the other side of the table.

“Can you dance, or do you only know how to drink?”

I took her to the dance floor without answering. At first she kept the reasonable distance you keep with someone you don’t know. But as the minutes passed that distance disappeared. By the third song, her body was pressed against mine with a naturalness that had no shame in it at all.

Her tits against my chest. Her hands on my back, sliding little by little until she was stroking my ass over my trousers. An expensive perfume I couldn’t identify but stored in my memory without anyone asking me to. And then I felt her thigh slide between mine, felt her push calmly, looking for the bulge I could no longer hide.

“Well, well,” she murmured in my ear, pressing herself against me. “Looks like the taxi driver’s engine has started up.”

“Your fault.”

“I haven’t done anything yet. Wait until I start.”

Her hand went all the way down and squeezed one of my cheeks through the fabric, with no attempt at hiding it, taking advantage of the fact that the dance floor was dark and crowded. With her other hand she took my wrist and brought it to her hip, then lower, until I felt the firm curve of her ass beneath the black dress.

“You’ve been looking at my tits all night,” she said in my ear.

“You’re right.”

“I like that. Men who don’t lie deserve to be given what they want.”

We danced three more songs. When we went back to the table, Beatriz looked at us with a smile that needed no explanation.

***

The wedding started drawing its last breaths after one. The older guests were saying goodbye. The younger ones kept dancing. Beatriz leaned toward me and said she and Andrés wanted to go have one last drink at a place they knew. Would we come with them?

Carmen looked at me. She let me choose.

“Let’s go,” I said.

We went in two cars. Carmen and I in front, Beatriz and Andrés behind. She didn’t talk much during the drive, but halfway there she put her hand on my knee and slowly moved it upward, without taking her eyes off the road, until she set it directly on my cock and started squeezing over my trousers.

“It shows a lot,” she said. “You’re going to have to sort this out soon or you’re going to explode.”

“Do you know where we’re going?”

“To a place where I’m going to suck you off until you see the ceiling.”

I nearly swerved out of the lane. She laughed softly and kept caressing me over my trousers, pinching the tip with two fingers, measuring me, learning my size.

The place was on the outskirts, in a completely silent industrial area at that hour. There was no sign visible from the street. Just a black door with a small camera above it and a woman on the other side who recognized Beatriz and Andrés with the easy familiarity of someone who had been seeing them for years.

A swingers’ club.

I’d been to one many years before, with my ex-wife. We hadn’t gone all the way that night. We’d only looked and gone home with something we hadn’t known how to handle.

As soon as we crossed the door, Carmen took my hand, came close, and spoke right into my ear.

“Tonight I’m going to empty your balls until you beg for mercy. Any problem?”

“None,” I replied, my mouth dry.

We sat on a sofa with Beatriz and Andrés. The music was soft, the lights low. Around us there were other couples in different states of uninhibition — a woman kneeling, sucking off a mature guy two sofas away, another threesome moving in a corner — but that night I only had eyes for Carmen and for that black dress that was no longer the same once I knew what was underneath it.

Beatriz took my hand. Andrés watched, hands in his lap, still as someone who knows perfectly well his role in that scene.

“Do you know exactly what kind of place this is?” Beatriz asked.

“I think so.”

She gave me a long kiss, no preamble, pushing her tongue deep into my mouth while her hand slipped between my legs and squeezed my cock over my trousers. Meanwhile I glanced at Carmen, who had already lowered both straps of her dress and had her tits out while Andrés licked them on his knees in front of her. Her nipples had gone hard and dark. Andrés sucked them one after the other, eyes closed, and Carmen held his head with one hand, setting the rhythm.

I kissed Beatriz back. I pulled down her neckline and took out a breast. I sucked it without asking permission, closing my lips around the nipple and licking it with the tip of my tongue until I felt her tremble. She was a warm, generous woman, one of those who don’t need to pretend to be anything, and her white flesh melted in my mouth with a taste of cream and perfume.

“This one sucks well,” Beatriz told Carmen over the back of the sofa.

“I knew that already,” Carmen replied without letting go of Andrés’s head. “You can tell by his mouth.”

It was Carmen who took the initiative. She stood up, with her tits still out of her dress, took Beatriz and me by the hand, and started down the hallway without looking back. Andrés followed silently, Carmen’s lipstick mark on his neck.

The room was small and warmly lit. A large bed, dark sheets, a mirror on the ceiling. Carmen undressed with a calm that disarmed me. The dress fell to the floor. Underneath she wore nothing. No bra, no panties. Just a seventy-year-old slender body that had been cared for down to the last inch: the breasts were no longer those of a twenty-year-old, but they were still firm, with large dark nipples that hardened in the room’s cool air. The cunt, completely shaved, already gleamed wet between her thighs.

No shame, no rush. Just the certainty of someone who knows exactly what she wants and has spent too long without taking it.

She tore my shirt off. The buttons gave way. She yanked down my trousers and underwear in one pull and my cock sprang out in front of her face. She stared at it for a few seconds, with that expression of someone who’s found something they’d been looking for a long time, and then slowly ran her tongue over her lips.

“What a gift,” she murmured.

She knelt. Took my cock in her right hand, held it firmly at the base, and took it deep into her mouth, no gagging, no ceremony. Her tongue worked my glans while her throat opened to take me all the way. I heard the wet sound of her saliva and the soft moan that escaped her each time she came up for air. Beatriz, behind her, had also undressed and was running her hands over Carmen’s breasts while Carmen sucked me off.

“Suck him well,” Beatriz whispered in her ear. “Wreck him.”

Carmen took my cock out with a pop and spat on it, then took it in again, to the hilt, her hand working my balls underneath. I held her head with both hands, fucking her mouth with short thrusts while she looked up at me with shining eyes, enjoying every centimeter.

“Wait,” she said, pulling away abruptly, her chin wet with saliva. “Not yet. I want it to last.”

I sat on the edge of the bed. Beatriz positioned herself behind Carmen and offered me her breasts so I could take them in my mouth. I took them. They were large and soft, and she arched her back with a low sound that wasn’t exactly a moan but something more primitive. Andrés, already naked too, knelt behind Beatriz and started licking her cunt from behind, his head buried between her thighs.

Carmen looked down at me.

“Tonight you do what I say. Understand?”

“Understood,” I replied.

She shoved me by the shoulders until I was lying on my back on the bed. She climbed on top of me on her knees, legs open, and moved forward until she put her cunt over my mouth. The sex was completely shaved and dripping. It smelled of mature woman, of desire kept for years. I took her with my mouth and she answered with a shudder, clutching my hair with both hands and pushing with a strength I hadn’t expected.

“There,” she panted. “Right there, the tongue there. Yes, fucker, eat it properly.”

I opened her lips with my fingers and searched for her clit with the tip of my tongue. I found it hard, swollen, and started licking it in slow circles while I slid two fingers inside her. She was soaked. My fingers went in without resistance and she squeezed them inside with a force that belonged to no age.

“Fourteen years,” she said out loud, more to herself than to me. “Fourteen years without anyone eating my cunt like this.”

I sucked her clit between my lips, tugging gently at it, and she started moving against my face, grinding, fucking my mouth from above. I slid in a third finger and curved all three, searching for the spot I knew would make her scream. When I found it, she let out a hoarse growl and squeezed my head so hard between her thighs that my vision blurred.

She came in a way I hadn’t anticipated: in absolute silence, her body rigid and her thighs clamping my head for a few seconds that left me breathless, and a gush of hot liquid soaking my chin. Then she relaxed all at once and pulled away with a softness completely unlike everything before it.

I lifted my head with Carmen’s cunt still shining on my mouth. And then I found something I hadn’t expected: it had been Andrés tending to me from below, not Beatriz. He had my cock in his hand and had been stroking me slowly the entire time Carmen was finishing in my mouth. Beatriz was kneeling on the bed, watching it all with a calm smile.

“Surprise,” she said.

Andrés let go of my cock without saying anything and stepped back. Beatriz took his place between my legs and gripped me harder, spitting into her hand before starting to pump me while she leaned down to lick my balls. Carmen lay down beside me and pinched my nipple between two fingers.

“Now Beatriz,” she said. “Eat her cunt the way you ate mine.”

Beatriz straddled my face and I gave her the same attention I’d given Carmen, with the same care. I parted her lips with my tongue, sucked her clit between my teeth, thrust my tongue as deep as I could. She was louder than Carmen: moaning without restraint, grinding against my mouth, flooding my face with her juices. And while she did it she said to her aunt:

“This one knows what he’s doing, Carmen. What a tongue that bastard has. He’s going to make me come.”

“I know,” Carmen replied, biting one of her nipples. “That’s why I chose him.”

Beatriz came over my mouth with a long scream, clutching the headboard, trembling over me. She left my chin drenched and my cheeks sticky. When she pulled away, her face was red and her eyes bright.

Carmen gave Andrés a soft slap on the face and ordered him to get me ready. He obeyed without complaint. He took a bottle of oil from the bedside table, poured a generous amount into his palm, and oiled my cock slowly with both hands, sliding his fingers along the full length and massaging my balls with his left. A man’s hand was different from a woman’s — firmer, surer — and for a moment I thought I shouldn’t be enjoying it as much as I was.

That was when I understood the full dynamic of those three: Andrés was the thread that made the two women’s pleasure possible without claiming anything for himself. A submissive who found in it something I couldn’t name but recognized as genuine.

Carmen climbed on top of me. She grabbed my cock with her hand, ran it across her cunt lips to get it wet, and then slowly, centimeter by centimeter, took it inside herself until she had it all the way in. I felt her hot and so tight I involuntarily arched my back.

“It’s all inside,” she whispered. “All of it. What a delicious cock.”

She started slowly, with absolute concentration, like someone resuming something they hadn’t done in a long time and wanting to do it right from the start. She moved in circles, then up and down, then dropped herself down hard, making our flesh slap together with a wet sound. I held her hips with both hands and helped her up and down, watching her tits bounce with every thrust.

Beatriz put her cunt back in my mouth, this time with her back to Carmen so she could kiss her while the two of them fucked me at once. I gave myself over to it. I licked Beatriz’s clit and asshole at the same time while Carmen rode me with an energy that belied her seventy years. The four of us moved with a coordination that had not come from agreement but from some collective instinct, without clumsiness or misunderstandings.

At some point Carmen looked me in the eyes and said:

“You’re about to cum.”

“Yes,” I panted under Beatriz’s cunt.

“Not yet.”

She got off me abruptly, pulling my cock out with a yank that almost made me come right there. She grabbed it in her hand and squeezed at the base to cut off my orgasm. She took Andrés by the head and placed him over me. I didn’t resist. I closed my eyes. Andrés’s mouth closed over my glans with a skill I hadn’t expected from someone so quiet, and he started sucking me with a perfect rhythm, his tongue working my tip, his throat opening to take me all the way.

It wasn’t as different as I’d imagined in the second before it happened. It was a warm, wet mouth, and he sucked me off with more eagerness than many women I’d known. When I opened my eyes, Carmen was watching me with an expression that mixed desire with something dangerously close to tenderness.

“That was the most honest thing you’ve done all night,” she told me.

Andrés pulled away just before I could. Carmen climbed on again. She took me all at once in one thrust, this time hard and fast, and started moving quickly, tightening around me with those mature-woman muscles that knew exactly what to do. I grabbed her tits and squeezed them hard, pulling at her nipples, and she threw her head back and sped up.

“Come,” she panted. “Come inside, fucker, fill me up.”

I came with a hoarse shout, unloading inside her with thrusts that shook me down to the soles of my feet. I felt my cum shooting out in spurts while she kept moving on top, milking me to the last drop. When she stood up, her cunt was streaming semen and she put it over my face without warning. Beatriz came closer and the two of them shared it in a long, deliberate kiss, licking the cum between their mouths. Then they kissed me so I could taste what was left, pushing my tongue full of my own semen mixed with the two of them.

Andrés, in a corner of the bed, smiled with a calm that no longer surprised me, his cock still hard but untouched.

***

There was a break. Someone brought water. Carmen leaned on my shoulder and we sat in silence for a while, neither of us feeling the need to say anything. I absentmindedly stroked one breast and she let me stroke it, eyes closed and a faint smile on her lips.

Then Beatriz announced she still had energy and climbed on top of me. She took me in all at once, soaked as she was, and started fucking me with that soft, generous flesh bouncing against my thighs. Meanwhile Andrés attended to Carmen, who gave him instructions in her ear with the same calm authority she had maintained all night.

“Slower with the tongue. There. No, lower. Like that. Now two fingers. Yes, fucker, like that.”

Beatriz moved on top of me with heavy slowness, squeezing my cock with every descent, leaning down so I could suck her tits. She dug her nails into my shoulders when I searched for her clit with my thumb and started rubbing it while I thrust from below.

“Ah, fuck,” she panted. “This bastard knows what he’s doing, Carmen, he knows what he’s doing.”

I came a second time inside her, unable to hold it any longer, and she kept moving until she came down on me with a muffled cry. When she stood up, semen ran down her thigh. Andrés licked it without anyone asking him to.

They closed the place before any of the four of us had finished. We went out to the parking lot, the night still warm and thick with that particular silence industrial areas have at three in the morning. Beatriz said she had a guest bed at her place and that it didn’t seem right for all that to end in a parking lot.

No one argued.

We kept going at her place. As soon as we crossed the threshold, Carmen dropped to her knees in the hallway, pulled down my trousers, and started sucking me again without preamble, with Beatriz watching from the sofa as she slipped two fingers inside herself. Andrés poured drinks in silence. We fucked in the living room, on the rug, with Carmen on all fours and Beatriz sitting on my face at the same time. I fucked Carmen from behind for the first time, with her pushing her ass back toward me and panting for me to give it to her hard, saying no one had fucked her like that in years, that I should break her cunt from fucking her so much.

The sun came in through the blinds of the guest room when we finally went still. I had nail marks on my back, bite marks on my shoulder, and empty balls from having come so many times.

I slept with Carmen. Both of us naked, her head on my shoulder, speaking softly about things that had nothing to do with what had happened: her garden in Valencia, a trip she wanted to make to Portugal, the fact that the neighbor on the third floor played guitar on Sundays and she liked listening to him from the terrace.

I woke up without guilt. Without regret. Only astonishment and a cock that, against all odds, was starting to rise again when Carmen ran her hand over it half-asleep.

And then Beatriz and Andrés came into the room, naked and still active, and from the bathroom Carmen shouted:

“That one’s mine. Ask permission before you touch his cock.”

“We’ll return him intact,” Beatriz replied, already climbing onto the bed and taking him in her hand.

“You’d better,” said Carmen.

Beatriz rode me while Andrés started sucking my balls underneath. When Carmen came out of the bathroom, she sat on the headboard with her legs open above my face, and I ate her cunt again while Beatriz came over my cock and Andrés swallowed the last drops of the morning.

And we started again.

***

I asked for a few days off. I stayed with Carmen in Valladolid until she had to go back to Valencia. I drove her myself, because I wasn’t in any hurry and because at some point during the trip she put her hand on my knee in the same way she had that first night, slid it up to my cock, and pulled it out through my fly to suck me off at a service area while I tried to keep both hands on the wheel. I understood that this wasn’t going to end anytime soon.

I stayed three days in Valencia. We slept together. We went out to eat. We fucked in every corner of her apartment: in the kitchen leaning against the fridge, on the sofa with her astride me, in the shower with hot water falling over us and her hands braced on the tiles while I took her from behind. In the mornings we had breakfast on the balcony while the neighbor on the third floor played guitar and Carmen smiled with her eyes closed, still bearing the marks of my fingers on her hips.

When I went back, Beatriz and Andrés called me. We met up. It worked just as well again: Beatriz riding me until I was emptied out, Andrés tending to the two of us with the same submissive calm of the first night.

And every time Carmen came down to Valladolid, the world shrank to four people who knew perfectly well how to make the most of the time they have.