The Night My Interns Opened My Eyes

I never imagined that a boring vacation, with two teenagers glued to their screens and a mother who was invisible to them, would end up triggering the most exciting thing I had ever experienced.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. As my grandfather Anselmo used to say, everything comes in its own time and at its own speed.

My name is Carmen, I’m forty-eight years old, and I’ve been divorced for six years. I’m the mother of two sons, twelve and sixteen, with everything that entails: endless arguments over their phones, afternoons shut away in their rooms, and a woman who, for far too long, had put herself at the very bottom of the list.

I live in Málaga, a city with a gentle climate, good food, and long nights for those who know how to make the most of them. I, however, had barely made the most of them at all. Between the divorce, the strange years that followed, and my habit of constantly putting myself off, I had gone six summers without allowing myself a proper vacation. This year, I decided that had to change.

Despite my sons’ initial protests, I managed to get them out of the house. My friend Marisa rented me one of her apartments in Pedregalejo, one of the prettiest and least crowded beach areas on the coast, ten minutes from the city center. What seemed like a simple getaway to break the routine soon turned into something much bigger.

I’m five foot eight and weigh a little over 128 pounds. Marisa, always direct, swears I have a body many women in their twenties would envy. I think she exaggerates, but I won’t deny it entirely: my figure has stayed slim, my ass firm and pert, and my tits, though not especially large, have kept their shape after two pregnancies. What I like most about myself, however, are my nipples, with those broad, pink areolas that more than one man has called a little treasure and that grow hard as rocks at the slightest brush.

I work as a municipal comptroller at City Hall, just like Marisa. And I discovered something curious this summer: a lot of men go crazy at the idea of fucking someone who exercises authority as part of her job. I don’t know what it activates in their heads, but the thrill of overpowering someone who is usually in charge gets them wildly excited. The most brazen ones make comments about letting themselves be “thoroughly inspected.” Others are subtler, but their eyes give them away. It used to disgust me. Now, I confess, it’s starting to amuse me.

Under the terms of the divorce agreement, my vacations with my sons fell during the first halves of July and August. In July, I couldn’t get them off the sofa. In August, I put my foot down. If they wanted to remain trapped in their phones, that was their business; I needed to breathe. But to understand how what was awakened in me came to life, we have to go back to the farewell dinner organized by the women from work, a dinner that, fortunately, no man had signed up for.

***

The two veterans, Marisa and I, attended, along with the two interns doing their placements in the department that year, two young women who hadn’t yet turned twenty-three. If Málaga has one thing going for it, it’s that you can have dinner facing the sea in La Malagueta and take a taxi home without going broke. Not having to drive meant we all overdid it a little with the wine. And as everyone knows, when we drink, conversations become bolder.

The two girls talked with a frankness that left me stunned. They began recounting their experiences with a mixture of pride and cheek that belonged to another planet as far as I was concerned. They told their stories like people displaying trophies. At first I thought they were exaggerating, but Marisa, far less scandalized than I was, made it clear with a gesture that there was no joke involved.

Carmen, you need to catch up, she had told me a thousand times. It wasn’t until that night that I understood how much the world had changed. Or, rather, how far behind I had fallen.

When I dared to offer an opinion, with a touch of moralizing, Vanesa, the younger one, burst into such spontaneous laughter that she made me feel ridiculous. Luckily, thanks to the wine, they all assumed I was joking.

“You’re such a dirty girl, Carmen!” she said between laughs. “With a body like that, men must be crazy to stick it in you. I bet you go straight to the point and suck their cocks before the second gin and tonic.”

I couldn’t believe my ears. I looked at Marisa, expecting her to say something, but she only pinched me under the table to make me keep quiet.

“I’m into something else,” Noelia cut in with a mischievous smile. “The last time, it was two classmates from university and me. One had his cock inside my pussy while the other fucked my ass at the same time. Do you know what it feels like to have two hard cocks inside you, moving at once, to feel them brushing against each other inside, separated only by a thin wall of flesh? It’s indescribable. I ended up with both their cum streaming down my thighs.”

At that moment, I felt the ground moving beneath my feet. Was it the alcohol? Or the natural way they talked, as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world? I had never heard anyone describe anything like that in person, much less in such detail.

I remained there with my mouth open, trying to work out whether what I felt was disbelief, a hint of envy, or something new I didn’t know how to name. The interns continued trading anecdotes as if they were at a marketplace of stories, while I, completely unfamiliar with that world, didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or order another drink.

***

On the way home, alone in the taxi after dropping the girls off, Marisa decided to take things a step further. At fifty-one, divorced for more than ten years, and with a tongue as sharp as her personality, she had no intention of leaving me in peace. Taking advantage of my bewilderment, she gave me an impromptu lesson on what she called the true pleasures of life.

“Now, sweetheart, enough is enough,” she said in that brutally honest tone of hers. “How long has it been since you fucked? Six years? That’s just not right. Six years without a decent cock inside you, without anyone eating your pussy until they make you scream. It’s insane.”

The driver, a gray-haired man in his mid-sixties, couldn’t entirely conceal his interest and kept glancing at me in the rearview mirror. I, in the passenger seat, wished the earth would swallow me.

“You have to stop thinking about Ricardo once and for all. Turn the page and enjoy yourself. Look at this!” And she pulled out her phone as casually as someone showing wedding photos.

On the screen was a picture of her crouched down with her mouth open, apparently in a restaurant bathroom, with two young men pushing their cocks down her throat, a smile of utter satisfaction between one shaft and the other. She swiped through two or three more images, each more explicit than the last: her tits out and dripping with saliva, her on her knees while one of them came across her outstretched tongue, her face smeared with cum as she stared into the camera with shining eyes.

“But they’re just kids, Marisa!” I protested.

“Yes, sweetheart, but I promise you, they’re no kids where it matters,” she laughed. “They’ve got thick, hard cocks and they can take whatever you throw at them. Do you know what it’s like to have them kneeling at your feet, looking you in the eyes while you suck them slowly, and to see their legs falling apart with pleasure? It’s a feeling of power you can’t imagine. Then you get them on all fours and do whatever you want to them.”

I was on the verge of collapse. Every word left me more astonished, and yet some part of me was beginning to feel curious. It wasn’t disgust. It was something else. I felt a warm dampness between my thighs and an insistent throb in my clitoris that forced me to squeeze my legs together.

“They’ve been hanging around our floor quite a bit since the Christmas party…” I managed to say through my stammering.

Marisa let out one of her trademark laughs, the kind that always announced she was plotting something.

“Sweetheart, change. This isn’t you. You’ve got a fantastic body; even the girls said so. If you set your mind to it, you can stop being a prude in a heartbeat and have half the staff lining up to fuck you on top of your office desk.”

When we reached her building, she said goodbye in the most unexpected way. She leaned toward my seat, held my face, and planted a long, brazen kiss on my lips. Her tongue invaded my mouth with such intensity that it tangled with mine, wet, hot, utterly shameless. I felt her suck my lower lip before releasing it, and I didn’t realize that, with two deft fingers, she had undone a couple of buttons on my blouse and slipped her hand inside to pinch one of my nipples, which responded instantly, hardening like a stone beneath the bra fabric.

“This is to remind you how it’s done, in case you’d forgotten,” she joked, twisting my nipple one last time before withdrawing her hand. “And let’s see whether you think of me tonight when you put your fingers inside yourself.”

Then she disappeared into the building, leaving the taxi driver open-mouthed. I sat staring at the street, trying to take in the entire night. One thought kept hitting me over and over: maybe she was right. Maybe it was time to change. I could feel my nipples stiff against the fabric and my pussy throbbing, soaked, as if it had a life of its own.

***

The taxi started up again, and a thick silence filled the car, contrasting with the laughter of a few minutes earlier. The driver had shown admirable patience throughout the ride. Now, however, the tension was palpable.

It didn’t take long for me to notice his eyes seeking out my cleavage in the reflection of the glass, furtive and nervous. At first I paid no attention. Let him look; he isn’t doing anything wrong, I thought. But something stirred in me when I saw the effort he was making to control an emotion that was clearly overwhelming him: the bulge showing between his legs was so obvious that even through his trousers I could make out a hard cock straining against the fabric.

Near my building, a couple kissing beside a badly parked car forced us to stop a little farther on, next to a dark vacant lot. I reached for my purse to pay the twenty-eight euros on the meter and, when I turned toward him, discovered the reason for his stiffness: his eyes were fixed on my breasts, torn between fear and desire.

When Marisa had undone my blouse, she had left my tits almost completely exposed. That night I had also put on a bra one size too small to push them up, and my areolas were peeking over the edges of the cups. When I realized, I hurried to cover myself, but one strap slipped and left one of my tits entirely bare, its erect nipple pointing straight at his face.

My little cry of surprise frightened the man even more. He went red and began stammering:

“I won’t charge you anything, ma’am… Please, don’t report me. I have a family to support…”

His words got me out of my embarrassment and made me feel sorry for him. “Relax, it’s all right,” I said with a nervous smile as I tried to fasten my blouse. But my haste only made everything worse: I dropped the bills, and they rolled between the seats. I bent down to pick them up and, as I did, the other strap gave way. Both tits were left exposed, hanging free in full view of the poor man.

The taxi driver swallowed, petrified. There was something almost childlike in his expression, as if he didn’t know what to do with the unexpected sight before him. I remained still for a moment, unsure whether to laugh or scream. All that came out was a nervous giggle.

“What a mess, huh?” I said, crossing my arms with little success and pressing my tits against my chest so that my cleavage showed even more.

He shook his head frantically.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to look…” he muttered, turning his gaze toward the windshield, though his cock still showed through his trousers, harder than before.

Far from offending me, his nervousness touched me. He looks like a child caught doing something forbidden, I thought. And my hands, which had been struggling with my bra, stopped of their own accord. There was something in that mixture of panic and desire that gave me an unexpected sense of control. And, to my surprise, aroused me. I remembered Marisa’s words: the feeling of power. There it was—a seasoned, older man trembling over a pair of bare tits. I was in charge.

“Do you like them?” I blurted out, almost without thinking, with a shy but playful smile, letting my arms fall and freeing my breasts again. “Take a good look, don’t be silly. That’s what they’re for.”

He didn’t answer in words, but his blush and rigid posture spoke for themselves. His eyes flew to my nipples and stayed fixed there, hungry. Then, without considering the consequences, I took his trembling hand and placed it on my bare tit.

At first he remained motionless, as if any movement might ruin everything. Little by little, his fingers began to explore, timidly at first, then with growing confidence. He squeezed my flesh with his whole palm, weighing it, then caught the nipple between his thumb and forefinger and twisted it gently. I closed my eyes and let out a long, husky sigh. Such a simple gesture, and yet I felt completely alive. I could feel my pussy growing wetter with every pinch, contracting inside and asking for something, anything.

His other hand found my other tit, and this time I leaned toward him. His breathing was heavy and ragged. When his lips sought my nipples, I did nothing to stop him. On the contrary, I grabbed the back of his neck and pressed his face against my chest, forcing him to suck harder. His rough, clumsy tongue circled them with an almost reverent enthusiasm that made me arch my back. He sucked greedily, as if he hadn’t tasted a woman’s flesh in years. He took the entire nipple into his mouth, licked it in circles, and nibbled it with his lips closed over his teeth. When he moved to the other, he pulled at the one he left free with his fingers, stretching and twisting it. I bit my lip to keep from moaning too loudly.

“That’s it, eat them…” I whispered, surprised by the sound of my own voice. “Suck hard, don’t be gentle…”

It was delicious, despite the absurdity of the situation: a taxi, the middle of the night, a stranger considerably older than me. Every ingredient for failure, and yet he was giving me what no one had managed to give me in a long time. I was soaked, my panties sticking to my pussy, with that tingling in my belly and thighs that announces my best orgasms.

He noticed my condition and slid one hand down to my crotch, stroking me through the thin linen trousers I was wearing. A shiver ran through my entire body. His fingers found the bulge of my pussy and pressed there, rubbing in circles right over my clitoris. The fabric was so wet that the heat seeped through it.

“Put it inside me…” I gasped. “Push your way in; don’t stay on the outside…”

The man didn’t need telling twice. He undid the button of my trousers with clumsy fingers, lowered the zipper, and slipped his hand beneath the waistband of my panties. When his fingers encountered my soaked pussy, he let out a muffled moan, as if he couldn’t believe what he was touching. I spread my legs a little farther, giving him permission. His middle finger forced its way between my swollen lips and plunged all the way in with a single thrust. I screamed—a hoarse, sharp cry that startled even me. I had gone so long without feeling anything like that inside me that I nearly came from that first finger alone.

He added his index finger and began pumping slowly, clumsily but steadily, while his thumb searched for my clitoris and rubbed it in small circles. I squelched. The wet sound of my pussy swallowing his fingers was perfectly audible. His mouth remained pressed to my nipple, sucking like a madman, while I thrust my hips toward his hand, seeking more, deeper, harder.

“Keep going, don’t stop, just like that…” I panted with my eyes closed. “Get them all the way in, don’t be a coward…”

Suddenly I opened my eyes and was frightened by myself. What am I doing? I thought, sitting up a little but not completely moving his hand away. The terrified taxi driver pulled out his wet fingers and backed away, babbling apologies and begging me not to say anything. But seeing him so vulnerable, my juices shining on his fingers in the dashboard light, finally broke down my shame. I stared at him, lowered my hand to his trousers, undid the zipper, and freed him.

It was an unexpected contrast with his ordinary appearance: a thick, dark cock, with a shiny purple head already beaded with a drop of pre-cum. I smiled. In for a penny, in for a pound, I told myself, and closed my hand around the base. I squeezed. It was rock-hard, burning hot, throbbing in my palm. I began jerking him off slowly, sliding the foreskin up and down over the glans, and he released a guttural moan that came from his stomach.

I leaned over his lap, moved the steering wheel aside as best I could, and slowly traced him with my tongue from base to tip, savoring the salt of his skin. I licked him like an ice cream, running long strokes all along the underside, then circled the head with the tip of my tongue before taking the whole thing into my mouth. I went down halfway and came back up, sucking with my cheeks hollowed, letting a thread of saliva run down over his balls.

“My God, ma’am… please…” he panted, his hands clenched on the steering wheel, not daring to touch me.

I took one of his hands and placed it on the back of my head so he would understand that he could push me. I showed him the rhythm: up, down, take it halfway, and let my tongue work his frenulum. His moans were low and restrained, as if he still feared someone might discover us. His control lasted hardly any time at all: within seconds, his body tensed, his hips lifted from the seat, and I felt the first hot jet burst against my palate. It caught me off guard, and I pulled his cock out just as he shot the second load, which hit me full in the cheek and on the lip. The next spurts burst onto my hand, thick and white, sliding between my fingers and dripping onto the steering wheel.

I burst out laughing while he muttered more apologies, breathing unevenly, his cock still throbbing in my fist. “Thanks for the ride,” I said with a smile as I gathered my things. I licked one last drop from the head before letting him go, more for fun than anything else, and he jolted at the sensitivity. I left the bills on the seat and got out of the car, my face sticky and my panties soaked.

***

In the elevator, I could still feel the warm dampness on my cheeks and hands, remnants of a night lifted straight from a dream. I studied myself in the mirror: tousled hair, flushed cheeks, disheveled blouse, and a thick white strand still hanging from my lip, with another drying on my chin. Something inside me had changed and was demanding that I explore without limits.

I raised my hand and looked at the thick liquid sliding between my fingers. It was something I had never even dared imagine. And yet a stab of curiosity ran through me. I brought one finger to my lips. I hesitated and closed my eyes. But the idea was terribly exciting, and in the end I did it. My tongue caught some of that salty, thick semen. It wasn’t unpleasant. There was something almost addictive about it, something primitive and animal that made me want more.

I let myself sink to the elevator floor, my back against the wall and my legs slightly spread, my body trembling. With my eyes fixed on my reflection, I licked my fingers clean one by one, like someone savoring a forbidden delicacy. I scraped the cum from my cheek with my index finger and pushed it all the way into my mouth, sucking it until it was clean. Each time I did it, a wave of pleasure washed over me, as if I were breaking through all the barriers that had held me back for years.

Without thinking too much, I undid my trousers completely and slipped my hand beneath my panties. My pussy was a mess—soaked, swollen, burning. At the first touch against my clitoris, a moan escaped me and echoed off the elevator walls. I inserted two fingers and began fucking myself, fast and carelessly, while with my other hand I continued sucking the taxi driver’s semen from my fingers. My fingers squelched inside me as I squeezed my thighs together, searching for the perfect angle. I was on the verge of coming when the elevator beeped to announce my floor.

When the elevator reached my floor, there was still some of it in my mouth, and I didn’t bother cleaning myself completely. Far from wanting to erase the traces of that night, I wanted to remember it, to taste it again and again.

That early morning wasn’t merely an awakening. It was a liberation. In bed, as soon as I closed the door, I tore off my clothes and threw myself naked onto the sheets. I spread my legs wide, drove three fingers into my pussy, and with my other hand squeezed and pinched my nipples, twisting them until I gave myself the good kind of pain. I replayed every detail: the taxi driver’s tongue on my nipples, his hard cock pulsing in my palm, the hot jet in my mouth, the photos of Marisa on her knees, Noelia’s story about having two cocks inside her at once. I imagined myself in her place, with one cock in my pussy and another in my ass, screaming as they filled me with cum. I came with a howl, the first orgasm of the night. I don’t know how many more times I pushed myself to the edge—three, four, five—with my fingers moving on their own and my mouth still tasting of semen, but by dawn the sheets were soaked, my pussy was sore, and I knew something had changed forever.

And right then, my vacation alone with two teenagers and their screen addiction was just beginning. It didn’t seem like the best time to reinvent myself.

Or perhaps it was exactly the right time. But that’s another story.