Ten Years Later, He Made Me Feel Like a Woman Again

I had spent the whole afternoon getting ready for that night, as if I were expecting a verdict instead of a man. I turned off every lamp in the apartment and left only the red candles I had placed in a row along the hallway, from the door to my bedroom. The wax had already begun dripping onto the little plates, and the air smelled of sandalwood and jasmine, the two kinds of incense I saved for the occasions that truly mattered.

This one mattered more than any other. It had been almost ten years since I had slept with anyone, ten years since I decided that my body belonged to me and no one else. Mateo was the only one who, in all that time, had known how to look at me without demanding explanations.

We had been writing to each other for months. Long messages in the early hours of the morning, in which I told him who I was and he answered as if desiring a woman like me were the most natural thing in the world. He didn't treat me like a secret or a curiosity. He treated me like a woman, nothing more.

A week earlier, he had written me a single line: “I want to see you.” Three words I had been waiting ten years for without admitting it. I answered yes before thinking it through, and from then on I hadn't slept well for a single night, imagining this moment in a thousand different ways, all ending the same: me, finally letting myself be touched, letting myself get fucked, letting myself spread my legs after a decade of holding back the urge, even with my own hand.

Don't get your hopes up, I repeated to myself as I adjusted the babydoll in front of the mirror. It's only one night. But my heart was beating like it had when I was twenty, and my hands were trembling so badly that I had to touch up my lipstick twice.

The babydoll was purple and sheer, clinging to my breasts with every breath. My nipples stood hard against the fabric, dark and swollen with pure anticipation. The white lace stockings reached halfway up my thighs, leaving my freshly shaved skin exposed, smooth beneath my fingertips. I wore nothing underneath: my pussy was bare, wet for hours, throbbing between my thighs whenever I thought about what was going to happen. I had spent hours getting myself ready: my hair, barely any blush, lipstick in a red that matched the candles. I wanted him to have no doubt when he saw me.

At exactly two in the morning, the doorbell tore through the silence like a lash.

I opened the door without turning on any lights. Mateo was there, taller than I remembered from the pictures, wearing a white checked shirt clinging to his chest and dark jeans. He looked me up and down slowly, and I saw him swallow. I also saw, without any attempt to hide it, the bulge beginning to show between his legs. We didn't say hello. There was no need.

I took his hand. Mine was cold and trembling; his was hot and firm. I led him along the path of melted wax to the bedroom, and felt his gaze fixed on my back, traveling down to my half-bare ass beneath the sheer babydoll, the entire way.

I shut the door with my foot.

“You look…” he began, his voice breaking.

“Don't say anything,” I whispered. “Not yet.”

I moved close enough that my lips almost brushed his. I smelled his cologne, the trace of clean sweat beneath it, that man-smell I hadn't sensed in an eternity, and it made my legs go weak all at once. Then I kissed him.

It wasn't a gentle kiss. It was the kiss of someone who had waited too long. Our tongues sought each other, his hands rose to my waist and pulled me against him, and I moaned into his mouth without the slightest shame. I bit his lower lip slowly and felt his entire body shudder. His hand dropped to my ass and squeezed it hard, his fingers sinking into the flesh, and I took advantage of it to grind against his bulge, feeling his cock grow harder by the second beneath the fabric.

“Mmm…” he murmured against my cheek. “I knew you'd be like this.”

“Like what?”

“Intense. A slut. Hungry.”

“Ten years, Mateo,” I panted into his ear, biting his earlobe. “Ten years without a cock inside me. Imagine how I am.”

I opened his shirt button by button, taking my time, enjoying every inch of skin that appeared. The fabric fell to the floor with a sharp sound. I lowered my lips to his chest, to the line of his abs, kissing and licking him while he held the back of my neck with one hand and breathed faster and faster. I went lower, dropping to my knees, dragging my tongue along the line of hair running from his navel to his belt. I bit his hip and he let out a hoarse growl.

***

He undid his belt in a single movement. I pulled down his jeans and underwear in one tug, and his erection sprang free in front of my face: thick, hard, veined, the tip shining with a thick drop of pre-cum trembling as it hung there. I stared at it as if hypnotized. It had been so long since I had seen a cock like that, so ready, so eager for me, that I felt heat rush through my whole body and my pussy suddenly flooded, wetting the insides of my thighs.

I took it in both hands. I could barely wrap my fingers around it. I stuck out my tongue and slowly licked the clear drop from the tip, looking him in the eyes. It tasted salty, like a man, like ten years of waiting. I gave the head a wet kiss and then put the whole thing in my mouth, as far as I could, until I felt it striking the back of my throat.

“Fuck…” he gasped, grabbing my hair with both hands. “Renata…”

I started sucking him unhurriedly, moving my head up and down, covering him in saliva, making noise on purpose, letting a thread of spit run down over his balls. I grabbed them with one hand and stroked them, taking them into my mouth one at a time while I slowly jerked him with the other, squeezing the base. He trembled, threw his head back, and moaned as if pleasure hurt.

“That's it, suck me like that,” he growled. “Let yourself drool, slut. Let it all spill.”

I wrapped my lips around him again and sped up, swallowing him until my eyes filled with tears. I pulled him out and sank him back in, smacking him against my tongue, against my cheek. I was so wet inside that I could feel drops running down my thighs, soaking my stockings.

“I'm going to come in your mouth if you keep going,” he panted, pulling my hair back. “And I want to fuck you first.”

Without saying a word, I pointed to the bed.

He lay on his side, his back against the wall, and I settled in front of him, spooning. My back against his chest, my ass against his stomach. I felt his hot cock throbbing between my thighs, sliding between my pussy lips, soaked with my wetness, and my whole body responded as if it had been asleep for years and someone had just woken it.

His right hand traveled slowly up my bare thigh, possessive, tracing the edge of the lace. It kept climbing until it found my wet pussy. Two fingers slipped inside effortlessly, and he moaned against my ear.

“You're soaked. Dripping, Renata. I've never felt a pussy this wet.”

“It's yours,” I panted, rubbing myself against his hand. “It's been like this for you for hours.”

His fingers began moving in and out, curling inside me, searching for the spot that made me tremble. His thumb worked my clitoris in slow, precise circles. His left hand passed beneath my arm and covered one breast. His fingers found my nipple, squeezing it, pinching it, tugging on it.

“Aaah…” I moaned, my whole body jerking.

My first orgasm hit almost without warning. Three fingers inside me, his thumb on my clitoris, his mouth breathing against the nape of my neck, and I came undone. A tremor that began deep inside and left me gasping, squeezing his fingers with the walls of my pussy, tears filling my eyes for reasons I didn't even understand. I felt myself gush over his hand, hot fluid wetting his wrist. It wasn't only pleasure. It was relief. It was feeling desired, fucked, touched after so much time in silence.

“Look at how you came,” he whispered in my ear, pulling out his glistening fingers and bringing them to his mouth. “And I haven't even started yet.”

He sucked them one by one in front of me, and I almost came again just watching him.

But he didn't stop. His mouth dropped to my shoulder, bit the curve of my neck, and traveled over my back with his lips while his hand kept playing with my nipples, one and then the other, twisting them to the edge of pain.

“Mateo…” I panted. “Don't stop, please. Fuck me now. I can't take it anymore.”

I writhed against him, rubbing my ass against his cock. It was rock-hard, slick with my own wetness. Then I felt the hot tip slide between my soaked lips, searching for my entrance, and my body opened from sheer desire.

“Wait…” I whispered, lowering my hand to guide him. “Slowly. I need to feel it little by little. It's been a long time.”

“As you wish,” he replied, his voice trembling with restraint. “But afterward I'm going to drive it all the way into you, you hear me?”

“Yes,” I moaned. “Yes, drive it all the way in.”

I guided him to my entrance. I felt the hot head pressing, opening me. He pushed slowly, and I felt myself give way millimeter by millimeter, felt him opening me from within after ten years, a delicious burn pulling a long moan from the deepest part of me.

“More…” I begged. “All the way in. All of it.”

And he went in.

In one deep, firm movement. I felt every inch making its way inside me, filling me to a place I thought I had forgotten, all the way to the back, striking something that made me see stars. It didn't hurt. The pleasure was so intense that for a few seconds I couldn't breathe, blind, clutching the sheet as if I were falling from a precipice.

“My God,” he gasped against my neck. “So tight. You're strangling my cock, Renata.”

“Are you okay?” he asked afterward, holding still, restraining himself inside me.

“I'm better than okay,” I said, turning my head to kiss him sideways. “Fuck me. Fuck me hard.”

***

And we began to move.

Slowly at first, deep. He pulled almost all the way out, leaving only the tip inside, then sank back to the bottom, setting a patient rhythm that made me moan into the pillow. Every thrust reached my insides. The wet sound of his cock entering and leaving my soaked pussy filled the room, an obscene sloshing mingled with our breathing and my increasingly unrestrained sighs.

“Like that,” I panted. “Just like that, don't change a thing. Feel how I eat it.”

“You're so damn tight,” he growled. “Fuck. I won't be able to hold out much longer.”

But desire overcame us both. Mateo grabbed my hip with one hand, my breast with the other, and began moving faster, deeper. I arched my back to take him better, lifting one leg, opening myself completely so he could fuck me down to my throat if he could. My moans became almost screams.

“Yes! Like that, Mateo, don't stop! Fuck me harder!”

“You like it like this, slut?” he panted in my ear, thrusting faster and faster. “Is this how you wanted me to drive it into you?”

“Yes! More! Break me!”

He rolled me onto my back against the mattress, spread my legs wide apart, and climbed on top of me. He looked at me for a second, his cock trembling in his hand, shining with my wetness, then plunged it into me again with a sharp, hard thrust. I screamed. I screamed so loudly the candles in the hallway must have trembled.

“Again,” I begged. “Again, like that.”

And he began fucking me hard, truly hard, driving deep thrusts that shook my entire body against the mattress. My tits bounced with every thrust, my nipples brushing his chest. He seized my wrists and pinned them above my head, then kept burying himself in me to the hilt, without mercy, looking into my eyes as he split me open.

“Look at me,” he ordered. “Don't close your eyes. I want to see you when you come.”

I could feel that deep place that only comes alive when someone knows how to reach it, when the body gives itself over completely. The bed creaked, the candles trembled in the hallway, and I was no longer in control of anything: not my voice, not my trembling, not the tears spilling down my face again from pure pleasure, nor the pussy that tightened on its own around his cock every time he hit bottom.

He turned me onto my stomach, lifted my hips, and plunged into me from behind again. On all fours, my ass held high, I felt him going even deeper, touching new places. He grabbed my hair, tugged gently, and sped up his thrusts until the slapping of our bodies was the only sound in the apartment.

“I'm about to come again,” I warned, my voice broken, my face pressed into the pillow. “I can't take it. I'm coming, Mateo, I'm coming.”

“Me neither,” he growled, digging his fingers into my hips. “Where do you want me to come? Inside? Outside? In your mouth?”

“Inside,” I begged, reaching one hand backward and grabbing his, lacing our fingers together. “Inside, all of it. Fill me. I want to feel it hot. Stay inside me, with me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. Empty yourself in me.”

And we exploded almost at the same time.

I felt him swell inside me, grow even harder, pulse against my walls, and then that hot wave flooded me from within, jet after jet, while I came apart in my own convulsions, squeezing him with my pussy to milk every last drop from him, screaming his name into the pillow, my whole body shaken by something much larger than sex. I felt the hot semen overflow from me, run down my thighs, and mix with my wetness on the sheet.

“Renata…” he murmured, burying his face in my hair, still inside me, still spilling. “Renata.”

Hearing my name in his mouth at that moment, with his orgasm pulsing inside me, finally split me in two.

***

We stayed pressed together, trembling, his chest rising and falling against my back when he collapsed on top of me and then turned me onto my side without pulling out. Neither of us moved for several minutes. Only ragged breaths, mingled sweat, the smell of sex and semen floating among the candles that were nearly burned down.

When he finally slid out of me, I felt the hot stream of his cum escape between my thighs, and I shuddered once more. I slowly turned and looked into his eyes. There was no hurry in his gaze, no shame, no distance—the kind I had seen so many times in others. There was only me, reflected in him as the woman I had always known myself to be.

I stroked his face and kissed him, this time without urgency, with a tenderness that surprised even me.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“Why?”

“For making me feel like a real woman tonight.”

He brushed a strand of hair from my forehead and gently shook his head.

“I didn't make you feel anything you weren't already,” he said. “I only looked at you. And I fucked you the way you deserved.”

He wrapped his arms around me from behind and fell asleep almost at once, his steady breathing caressing the nape of my neck. I stayed awake a little longer, his heavy arm across my waist, my pussy still throbbing, dripping his semen onto the sheet, and my heart strangely at peace.

Ten years of silence, and it had taken just one early morning, one cock, one man who knew how to look at me and fuck me like a woman, to remind me who I was. Renata. A woman. That night, truly desired, truly fucked, and finally at peace.