My Aunt Took Me to the Empty Pool That Hot Morning

It was past eleven and you could no longer breathe inside the apartment. The sun beat straight against the windows, the fan buzzed uselessly in a corner, and everything smelled of reheated coffee and what we had done a little while before. We were still in bed, me on top of her, moving slowly, as if stopping were a decision neither of us wanted to make.

My aunt was breathing against my neck, her legs open around my hips. Suddenly she let out a low, hoarse laugh that rose up from her chest.

—Adrián… it’s scorching hot —she murmured—. What if we go to the neighborhood pool? It’s two streets away. At this hour there won’t be almost anyone there.

I kissed her shoulder without getting off her.

—I’m fine like this. I’m not moving.

Lorena laughed harder and squeezed something inside that tore a groan out of me against her skin.

—You’ll have time to stay inside there as long as you want —she said—. But get up. I promise you won’t regret it.

She gave me a quick kiss on the lips and slowly pulled away, both of us sighing when I came out of her. She got out of bed naked, her body still marked by my hands, and started looking for something at the back of the wardrobe.

She pulled out a bikini I had never seen before. Black, one of those old-fashioned ones, barely two tiny triangles joined by thin strings. Her nipples were clearly outlined beneath the fabric. When she bent down to put a skirt over it, I saw that the bottom was a ridiculous thong, a thread that disappeared between her buttocks and barely covered anything in front.

I stared at her, mouth slightly open.

—Fuck, auntie… are you really going to the neighborhood pool dressed like that?

She turned, put a light blouse over the bikini, and winked at me.

—You’re going to enjoy yourself a lot. Trust me.

***

We walked there. She with her shirt open in front, the skirt swaying with every step; me with my swim trunks on under my pants and an old T-shirt that was already sticking to my back. The neighborhood was dead. It was Tuesday midmorning and people were either working or taking an early nap. You could only hear the screech of a shutter and the motor of an air conditioner dripping onto the sidewalk.

The municipal pool was one of those small ones from the eighties. A rectangle of turquoise water, stripped grass all around, four skinny trees and some tall hedges separating the different areas. When we went through the gate, I saw it was almost deserted.

There were only three older women. One lying on a towel, sunbathing topless without caring about anything, and two others sitting near the edge, wearing swim caps and dark glasses, chatting in low voices. Not a child, not a group of teenagers. Nothing.

—Perfect —said Lorena, and dragged me by the arm toward the farthest corner.

We chose a patch of grass behind some privet hedges so tall they blocked the view from the street and from almost all the loungers. We spread out the towels, one right next to the other. She took off the blouse first. The bikini triangles barely covered her nipples, dark and hard from the friction of the fabric and from the coolness rising off the water.

Then she slowly pulled down the skirt, turning a little so I could see everything. The thong was a joke: in front, a narrow strip that sank between her shaved lips; in back, the fabric disappeared between her buttocks as if she wore nothing at all. Her big, firm ass gleamed in the sun when she bent down to smooth the towel.

She looked at me over her shoulder with a crooked smile.

—What? You like the outfit?

—You’re going to give that woman over there a heart attack.

—Let her look all she wants —she said—. I only want you looking at me.

***

We lay down on our backs. The sun was beating down hard, but the hedges gave us a broken shade that came and went with the wind. She took out the bottle of cream and began rubbing it on slowly, first her arms, then her neck, then her chest. When she got to her breasts she pulled the triangles down a little to spread the cream properly, pinched her nipples between two fingers, and put them back in place as if nothing had happened.

I was already straining in my trunks. There was no way to hide it.

—Come here, put some on yourself too —she said, and made me turn over.

She sat astride my legs. I could feel the thong brushing my thighs while she spread the cream across my back with both hands. Her hands moved slowly, kneading, down to the edge of my trunks. She slipped her fingers under the elastic, brushed my ass, and went back up. Then she leaned forward, her breasts pressed against my back, and spoke in my ear in a thread of a voice.

—Turn over.

I obeyed. The bulge was impossible to conceal. She smiled, squeezed more cream into her palms, and started on my chest, slowly moving down over my abdomen. When she reached my trunks she didn’t hesitate: she slipped her hand inside, grabbed me with her slippery palm, and began moving it up and down, slowly, while checking the sides to make sure nobody could see us.

—Shhh… stay still —she whispered—. They’re not looking at us.

The topless woman was some twenty meters away, with her back turned. The other two were still absorbed in their conversation. The risk that anyone might poke their head around the hedge made everything more intense. Every sound, every distant splash, made me hold my breath.

Lorena shifted to one side, turning her back to the others, and with two fingers she pulled her thong aside in front. With her other hand she kept stroking me, without speeding up, measuring every gesture.

—I want you to look at me while we do it here, in the sun —she said—. And I want you to finish inside me.

***

She tugged the thong aside, guided me with her hand, and lowered herself onto me with short, slow rocking motions, biting her lip so as not to make a sound. Her clit was swollen, the bikini fabric tightening over her nipples. She was panting softly, controlling the volume like someone coughing to cover something else.

I held her hips and let her set the pace. From the outside, if anyone had looked, we would have seemed like a couple lying very close together, too still. Inside, though, everything was moving. I felt the heat of the sun on my face and her body wrapping around me, and the combination had me on the edge much sooner than I wanted.

When she came, she trembled all over. She squeezed me from within with a force that left me breathless and disguised her moan with a sharp cough. A trickle slid down her thigh. Then she leaned over me, kissed me deeply —her tongue tasting of sunscreen— and sped up the movement, trying to make me finish too.

I couldn’t hold out long. I came inside her in hot waves while she dug her nails into my shoulder so the sound wouldn’t escape me. Lorena discreetly gathered what was dripping down her leg, wiped it on the towel, and slowly sucked one finger, looking into my eyes with a face of satisfaction that kept me dazed for a long while.

We stayed lying there, breathing hard, the sun drying our sweat. She adjusted her thong, carefully pulled my trunks back up, and gave me a long kiss.

—Let’s go swim —she said.

***

I dove headfirst into the deep end. Lorena, on the other hand, went in by the ladder toward the shallow area. She confessed, laughing, that she didn’t know how to swim and had never wanted to learn. I offered to teach her and she looked at me with that mischievous expression of hers.

—Why not? —she said.

I took her toward the part where the water reached her waist. I told her to stretch out her arms and kick, to let herself be held up. I had both hands under her, supporting her: one on her hip, over the thong fabric, the other flat against her stomach, right where the trunks had worked their way back between her lips.

—Don’t let go of me —she asked, pretending to be scared, laughing.

—I’m not letting go.

And then, when I looked up, I saw that the topless woman had come over to us. She had gotten into the water and was watching us with a grin from ear to ear, not hiding it in the slightest. Lorena started chatting with her as if nothing were happening, while I, beneath the surface, kept my fingers where they shouldn’t have been. The woman never took her eyes off us. She had one hand submerged under the water, moving slowly, and she made no effort at all to hide it.

—You’re lucky —she told my aunt—, with such a young and handsome boy.

Lorena burst out laughing.

—I got him on sale —she replied—. And there aren’t any left.

The woman laughed, pleased, and threw me a look that needed no translation. Lorena leaned in to my ear, still held up by my hands, and asked me in a whisper whether the woman turned me on. I shook my head slowly, without stopping moving my fingers. She smiled against my cheek, satisfied with the answer.

We said goodbye a little later. It was almost five and the pool was starting to fill up: families with umbrellas were arriving, a group of teenagers with a ball, the murmur of the neighborhood waking from its nap. We got out of the water dripping, collected the towels behind the hedges, and walked back home, her hand seeking mine as soon as we crossed the gate.

I promise you won’t regret it, she had said that morning. And, as almost always, my aunt was right.