I Exhibited Myself at Every Stop Along That Northern Coast
I'm going to recount a few brief scenes, almost snapshots, from the week when I discovered just how far I was willing to go to make someone look at me. It wasn't a plan. Quite simply, every place we visited along that northern coast offered me an excuse, and I didn't let a single one pass me by.
Nadia had never traveled through that part of the coast. We had a few days off and decided to get away for a week with two friends, Tomás and Bruno. We flew to the provincial capital in a small plane that jolted during the final stretch, with a crosswind that made the suitcases in the overhead compartment creak. Our rental car was waiting at the airport, and from there we went straight to the first hotel.
Since we weren't formal couples—just Nadia and me, and even that only halfway—we had invented a game for the trip. Whenever we arrived at a hotel, we mixed the four magnetic key cards on the bed and handed them out at random. Whoever drew the same room would sleep with whoever drew the same room. Simple as that. That first night, chance separated me from Nadia and left me with Bruno, and I admit my heart beat differently when I closed the door.
Bruno didn't waste any time. He pushed me against the wall as soon as he heard the lock click, thrust his tongue into my mouth, and slid one hand beneath my dress, straight to my pussy, no detours. I had already been wet since the elevator. He tore off my panties in one yank and knelt right there, my back pressed against the wallpaper, and buried his mouth between my legs as if he'd been waiting weeks for it. He sucked my clit slowly, with his tongue flat, then pushed two fingers deep inside me while I gripped his hair and fucked his face against my pussy.
“I'm going to come,” I warned him, and he sped up, growling against me, until my legs buckled and I came in his mouth standing up, trembling, my skirt still rolled up around my waist.
He gave me no respite. He took me to the bed, pulled my dress over my head, lowered his trousers, and brought out a hard, thick cock, its glans gleaming with pre-cum. He held it in front of my face and I opened my mouth without being asked. I sucked him all the way, both hands around the base, swallowing him down to my throat, listening to him pant every time the tip struck my palate. I licked his balls, one by one, then ran my tongue back up his shaft and left his whole cock soaked in saliva.
“Get on all fours,” he ordered hoarsely.
I obeyed. I showed him my ass, arched my back, and he spread my cheeks with both hands before thrusting his cock into me in one sharp drive. I screamed into the pillow. He fucked me hard, gripping my waist, his thighs slamming against my ass with the sound of wet flesh filling the room. He pulled my hair back, forced me to look at him over my shoulder, and kept pounding me without stopping, deeper and deeper, until I felt him swell inside me.
“Come in my mouth,” I asked, turning over in time.
I knelt on the floor and he brought himself off with his hand twice over my tongue. He filled my mouth with thick, hot cum, splashed some over my chin and one breast too, and I swallowed it all with my eyes fixed on his.
I'm not going to go into the details of every night. Suffice it to say that the game surprised all of us, nobody complained, and that little disorder ignited something in me that didn't go out for the rest of the week.
If fucking a near-stranger behind a closed door got me this worked up, what would happen when someone I didn't know at all saw me in the middle of the street, my pussy exposed?
***
The first morning we went to see the estuary museum, that building of metal panels that looks like a stranded ship. On the esplanade in front stood an enormous sculpture covered in flowers, shaped like a sitting dog. Tomás had his camera hanging around his neck, ready to play the diligent tourist.
“Do you dare?” Nadia asked me, lowering her voice.
I didn't answer. I stood with my back to the flower-covered dog, hiked my dress up to my waist just when nobody was passing nearby, and left my ass bare for the three seconds it took Tomás to take the picture. I wasn't wearing panties: the cleft of my ass and the shadow of my pussy between my thighs were visible. Three photos: one alone, another holding Nadia's hand, and one with me holding her around the waist while she held me by the shoulder. The esplanade was crowded, but everything happened so quickly that barely two people turned their heads. One of them, an older man in a hat, smiled and kept walking as though he hadn't seen a thing.
The tingling climbed up my back and settled between my legs for the rest of the morning. Every step brushed against my already swollen pussy lips, and I could feel my wetness soaking the insides of my thighs. We did it again in front of a giant bronze spider standing guard over the entrance, two more photos, the same quick gesture, the same electric current running through my entire body.
“Your eyes are shining,” Nadia whispered as we walked back to the car.
“I'm dripping,” I replied quietly, taking her hand and guiding it under my dress for a second so she could check with her fingers.
She pulled them out gleaming and brought them to her mouth without stopping.
“This is only the beginning,” I said.
***
The next day we climbed to a hermitage perched on a small island, connected to the mainland by a stone bridge and an endless staircase winding up the rock. The place was spectacular, one of those landscapes that seem invented for a movie. Halfway up, at a bend where the path narrowed between the bushes, Nadia and I stopped.
This time it wasn't just my ass. We took our dresses off completely and posed fully naked, facing forward and in profile, as calmly as people with all the time in the world. Tomás and Bruno acted as lookouts, alert to the voices coming up and down the stairs. The sea wind raised goosebumps on my skin, stiffened my nipples until they hurt, and dried the sweat from the climb.
Nadia came toward me naked, her tits bare, and licked one of my nipples while Tomás kept taking pictures. She put a hand between my legs and checked how wet I was.
“You're soaked,” she murmured.
She rubbed my clit with two fingers, in slow circles, and I opened my legs right there, leaning against the rock, letting her do it. She knelt and ate my pussy in front of the boys, her tongue pushed well inside, while I held her head and panted softly so they wouldn't hear me from the staircase. I came in her mouth in less than two minutes, biting my fist so I wouldn't scream, and still trembling, I returned the favor: I pressed her against a bush, spread her cheeks, and licked her pussy and her ass from bottom to top until her knees buckled. She came with Bruno's hand over her mouth, silencing herself.
We took a couple of pictures of the boys too, and neither of them managed to hide his erection beneath his trousers. Bruno pulled out his cock and put it in my hand; I jerked him off for a moment, my palm full of my own saliva, until we heard voices and had to let go.
When a group of hikers appeared around the bend below, we were already dressed, laughing like two kids who had just pulled off a prank. But inside, I was still naked. I stayed naked for miles, with the taste of Nadia's pussy still in my mouth.
***
On the way to the neighboring province, we saw from a distance a long beach strewn with surfboards. Dozens of people were in the water, paddling against the waves, and we didn't even know how to get into the parking lot. We decided to follow a car carrying two boards tied to its roof rack, assuming it would lead us straight there.
We were right. We parked beside it and watched two girls and a boy get out and immediately begin their preparations. We always carried a bikini and a microfiber towel close at hand in case the opportunity to swim arose, so we started changing beside the car, unhurriedly, letting ourselves be seen.
Just before getting into their wetsuits, the two surfers squatted down to piss on the sand, side by side, with the naturalness of people who did it every day. I went over to the redhead, squatted beside her and imitated her, hiked up my skirt, spread my legs, and let out a long stream onto the sand while looking her straight in the face. I asked whether she wasn't embarrassed to do it there, in front of us and anyone who happened to pass by.
“The first time I felt a little awkward,” she replied without batting an eye, lowering her gaze shamelessly to my dripping pussy. “But you have to do it right before putting on this rubber suit. Otherwise, tell me how you do it if you get the urge out at sea. Come back, take off the wetsuit, piss, and squeeze yourself back into it? Impossible.”
I laughed, and while I was laughing I realized that the redhead was looking at my breasts, and then at the shaved pussy I'd left fully on display, with a frankness I liked. The other surfer stood up, looked over our tiny bikinis, and burst out laughing.
“And you two think you're going swimming here in those? If you really want to swim, go to a sheltered cove, one of those postcard beaches. Here, if you dare go in—and I don't recommend it—you'll lose your bikini in a minute, come out battered and naked. The only thing you can do in this break is sunbathe.”
Nadia and I looked at each other. We took off our bikinis right there, left them on the towel, and walked naked down to the water's edge, just to feel the icy water around our ankles. It was true: going in was impossible, the undertow pulled like an enormous hand. But the walk back from the shore to the car, completely naked, with the surfers watching us and the wind raising goosebumps on my skin, was one of the most intense moments of the trip.
The redhead handed me the towel when I arrived trembling.
“You've got nerve,” she said, wrapping it around my shoulders herself, her hands lingering for a second too long on my wet back. “Or you're completely crazy.”
“Both,” I replied.
And the towel wasn't enough for her. She slipped one hand underneath it, pinched an icy nipple, and lowered the other to my pussy to part my lips with two fingers.
“You're hard from the cold,” she whispered, looking into my eyes, “but wet inside. What a contradiction.”
Her friend watched us from a few yards away, his wetsuit fly open and one hand inside. She slid a finger into my pussy, very slowly, then pulled out another gleaming with my wetness. She licked it without taking her eyes off me, then ran it over my lower lip so I could taste myself too.
“Another day, in a cove,” she whispered in my ear, “I'll eat your pussy until you scream.”
She moved away, winked at me, and went back to her board. For a moment, with the taste of her saliva still in my mouth and her friend's eyes fixed on me, I thought that beach full of surfers was going to end differently. It didn't. But I carried the warmth of those fingers inside me for days.
***
At another stop we visited some cliffs rising from the sea in slanted sheets of stone, like the pages of a giant book opened against the waves. I don't understand anything about geology, but anyone would recognize that it was a wonder. And more pictures, of course. From the front, from behind, in profile, my ass bare over the edge of the precipice while the wind tried to push me into the void.
Bruno held me by the wrist so I wouldn't slip, and the combination of vertigo and exposure left my legs weak. When we moved away from the edge, I reached into his fly, pulled out his already-hard cock, and asked him to come on my ass, over my buttocks still chilled by the wind. I jerked him off while leaning against a rock and watching the sea break below, as he squeezed my tits from behind and bit my neck. He came in less than a minute, thick jets of cum running down my ass to my thighs. I wiped them up with two fingers and licked them in front of him.
That night, when the luck of the cards returned me to Nadia's room, I didn't need to tell her anything. Seeing me come in was enough. We undressed without a word, the salt of the wind still on our skin. I lay her on the bed, opened her legs, and ate her pussy slowly, using my whole tongue, until she came once, clutching my hair. Then we scissored, pussy against pussy, rubbing with our swollen clits and our hands intertwined, and came almost at the same time, looking at each other as if it were the first time.
I whispered in her ear everything I'd felt at every stop, every look I'd stolen, every finger that had entered me, every cock I'd jerked off. She listened while sliding one finger into my ass, very slowly, then two, until she made me come again from that alone.
“You're a textbook exhibitionist, an insatiable slut,” she told me, biting my shoulder.
“I discovered it this week,” I admitted. “You gave me permission.”
***
All that remains is to talk about the last city. Since this isn't a travel guide, I'm not going to describe the monuments; I'll only talk about the places where I exhibit myself and enjoy it. At the foot of a mountain closing off the bay is a group of iron sculptures anchored to the rocks, and among them, perforated into the ground of the esplanade, are vents through which sea air rises with brutal force when the waves break. I'd been there before. I knew exactly what I was doing.
I went with my panties tucked into my bag. I put on a lightweight skirt, the kind that flies up at the slightest breeze, and approached one of the holes in the pavement slowly. I waited for a large wave to arrive. When the air exploded up from the ground, my skirt flew above my waist and hung there for one eternal moment around my face, while underneath I was wearing absolutely nothing: my shaved pussy in plain sight, my lips parted, gleaming with how wet I was just from thinking about it.
A circle of tourists was watching the spectacle of water and wind. During that second, they all looked at me. An older couple stood open-mouthed, a boy instinctively raised his phone and then lowered it, embarrassed, and Nadia, off to one side, watched me with a smile that said everything. The air swept over me, cold and shameless, entered my open pussy, dried the wetness from my lips, and I held my skirt down just enough not to have it ripped away, not a second sooner than necessary.
“Another wave?” Nadia asked when I moved away, still trembling.
I looked at her, looked at the group of people pretending to have gone back to being interested in the sea, looked at the boy with the phone, who now had a distinct bulge in his shorts, and went back toward the edge of the hole. Beforehand, I put two fingers into my pussy, pulled them out shining, and ran them over my lips so the boy could see me do it.
“Another wave,” I said. “And as many as it takes.”
That week ended, as vacations do, with suitcases and an airport and the promise to do it again. But something never went back to where it had been. I discovered that pleasure, for me, wasn't in the hidden sex of a hotel room, or in the landscape, or in the pictures we kept in a private folder nobody would ever see. It was in that exact, suspended moment when some stranger realizes I'm wearing nothing underneath, his cock gets hard at the sight of my pussy, and he can no longer stop looking.
