Today, just as a reference, is March 8th 2010 and it is quarter to one in the afternoon. It is Monday and for work reasons I am sitting in my car in a car park on the Montjuïc mountain here in Barcelona. Well perhaps it is not only for work reasons. The day is grey and overcast. In many places in Barcelona it is snowing, something that is almost unheard of here. I have a view of the city laid out in front of me and I am sitting here waiting to meet someone. We have agreed to meet here in the car park and then go for lunch somewhere.
I am beginning to regret having agreed to this meeting, since it is really cold. Every now and then I turn the motor on and get the heat going. Sitting here is a little suspicious and two people have already knocked on the window to ask if I am okay. Another part of my problem is that I am wearing a pretty dress, a body hugging number that is quite sexy but also professional.
Apart from the dress I am only wearing my underwear and my stockings. Over this I am wearing a Jackie Kennedy style coat, which is not really appropriate for the day. The only concession I have made to the day is to not wear heels. I have selected black knee high boots with stiletto heels instead. The boots are a little racy but you can’t see that they reach over my knees when I am standing because of the length of my dress.
Okay so now to answer the obvious question. What am I doing freezing in my car instead of waiting in a bar somewhere, or at the office? Well the answer is simple; the man I am waiting for is an old flame of mine, a guy I once had a very passionate affair with. He is married but is what is called “un cuarenton interessante”, an interesting forty year old. He is a supplier for my company and whilst we don’t actually do any business right now we meet up for lunch occasionally.
Why am I dressed as I am? Well I am sure you can all guess. I am hoping I will inspire him to forego lunch and take me somewhere where we can relive the passion we once enjoyed together. He suggested meeting here and I have taken this as a sign that maybe he is thinking about more than lunch as well.
As I have said, he is around forty, ten years older than me. He is married with three children. His wife is a lovely woman that I know very well. Like me, he is the owner of his own company. We know each other through our families in addition to the professional link we have had in the past.
I have known him for many years but lost contact with him until the day he phoned me at work. He asked if I was interested in meeting him and give him the chance to sell me some of his products. Since I knew him from the past I agreed and we arranged to have lunch together. An awful lot of my affairs have started over lunch in one of Barcelona’s many excellent restaurants.
I went to the restaurant with no expectations whatsoever and walked in expecting to see a grown up version of the child I had known. I remember I looked around the restaurant as the waiter took my jacket and totally failed to recognise him. I only knew who he was when a very attractive man stood up and came over to me.
He had changed so much, as often happens of course. He was tall, quite slim but with a swimmer’s shoulders. Dark hair that is thinning but he wears it very short and it suits his face. Now I know that his physique is due to his interest in triathlons. He came over to me smiling and we shook hands and kissed, as is typical here. He smelled wonderful, I recognised the cologne, Agua de Gio.
With his wonderful manners he escorted me over to his table and we ordered drinks. We chatted about our families and business. My eyes were all over him, but it was clear that his were all over me as well. He told me about his family, his wife and children. I was mildly surprised to hear that he was married to a woman I had known in school. She had been three years ahead of me and I remembered her as being very pretty. Her parents had been friends with mine and I think we had even been to family parties together. Our lives were linked in many different ways. By the end of the lunch we had even hammered out the basics of a business agreement that was going to be of great interest to both of us.
Apart from the social and business side of our lunch, I couldn’t deny that I felt strongly attracted to him. He was good looking, funny, attentive and very provocative. He made jokes that were a little risqué and made me blush slightly but they were never in bad taste. I am not normally a physical person. Let me explain that. I have friends of mine who are always touching men; a hand on their arm, a rubbing of shoulders that is almost accidental. I know that this sends a very clear message to most men. A message I normally don’t want to send. But with this man, let’s call him Andreu, I found myself wanting these little moments of contact.
We drank our wine at the same time; we leaned forward towards each other when we were speaking. He offered to let me taste his dessert. We were very correct but by the end of the lunch the atmosphere was far from just businesslike. Nevertheless nothing happened. He agreed to come to my office with some samples and we shook hands and kissed again as I left.
True to his word, he dutifully passed by my office with samples. We agreed on terms and he asked me if I wanted to have lunch again. I was regrettably busy the day that he mentioned. I asked him if he was going to attend the trade fair that was scheduled for the week after that. He said he was, so I slyly said we might want to go together. The fair was scheduled in Madrid, about eight hours from us by car, and was scheduled to last three days. He readily agreed and offered to take his car, I accepted and we arranged to meet outside my apartment building. After he left my office, I was certain that I was in for a great three days in Madrid. No married man would agree to drive to Madrid with a single woman and have no ulterior motive. I immediately left work saying I had some visits to make and went shopping for the trip.
The day finally arrived, a cold winter’s day like today. I was waiting inside the entrance to my building dressed modestly but well. A car drove up outside, a nice grey Audi. He got out and came in to greet me. More kisses, lots of smiles and a few jokes to get me into the car and my bag into the back.
We set off making our way out of Barcelona and towards the AP7 south. In the car I was comfortably seated next to him. My legs were crossed and showing a nice dark pair of stockings (I always wear stockings if there is a possibility of something happening, what is sexy about tights?) He was dressed more casually than me, in jeans and a shirt, but he looked very nice.
The conversation flowed, we talked about almost everything, business and politics, local issues about Barcelona and where I lived and then about our families again. He asked about me and if I had a partner, I said no. He seemed a little surprised at that and so I gave him the normal excuse of having too much to do. He seemed to understand that and went on to tell me that he had only just got over a short separation from his wife. Apparently she had an affair with someone, blaming it all on him being always busy with work. I expressed sympathy and understanding and started wondering if I was just going to be a shoulder to cry on.
He carried on talking and told me that what had really made him bitter and forced the separation, was that she had taken a lover when she had never been willing to make love to him. According to him she was very cold, always with an excuse. This seemed odd to me, considering how attractive he was. I could not help but wonder if in reality he was a disaster in bed. All in all I had started to regret throwing myself into the trip with him. I was annoyed with myself and felt a little trapped.
Around lunchtime we arrived at Saragossa and he suggested we stop for lunch. He drove us to a nice restaurant that was part of a hotel. We parked the car in the hotel garage and went for lunch. While we were eating he was once again bright and cheerful, my cloud of pessimism dissipated and was replaced by the same spark of interest I had had when we started.
Over our coffee I decided to ask him outright. I took advantage of a pause and asked him directly what had been the problem between him and his wife, what had made her not want him but need a lover. He blushed deeply and dropped his gaze to his coffee, the question hung in the air as he swirled his coffee around in the cup. Finally he looked up at me again and I tried to communicate some sort of understanding by smiling at him. I tried to explain that it just didn’t make sense but he reached out and took my arm stopping me mid-sentence. “It is very simple,” he said, “I am rather generously endowed and I like to be very vigorous in bed. My wife is small and delicate and right after we were married she told me that making love to me was painful for her.”
He let go of my arm and leaned back in his chair. I was speechless; it was because he was too big for her? Because he was too energetic? I asked him about how it has been before they were married. He explained that before they married she had never complained. She had never been as enthusiastic as him but had never said anything. Since the wedding their sex life had been allowed to slide. After their last child she had taken advantage of the difficult birth to say that she couldn’t carry on.
Then he had caught her with another man, someone who apparently was smaller and more considerate, or at least that is what she had explained when he had confronted her. This level of honesty opened the way to a very frank conversation about our respective sex lives. He told me about how he liked to fuck with a great deal of wild abandon, as he called it. He liked to be savage. I told him how I loved what is now called “rough sex”. As you can imagine we were discovering that we had mutual tastes when it came to sex.
We suddenly ran out of things to say. The coffee cups were now cold in our hands and with the conversation at a point where perhaps we both felt embarrassed at all the things we had said.
An uncomfortable silence ensued. He broke it by calling for the bill. We both made ourselves busy picking up our things and heading to the lift to go down to the garage.
As we walked across the reception area of the hotel my mind was spinning at all the things he had said and at all the things I had told him about myself. I was agog at how much we had just shared in only one conversation. We entered the lift and the doors slid shut in front of us. In the mirrors on the back of the doors I saw the same sort of confusion on his face; he turned to me and started to say something. But then he stopped.
The lift pinged softly and the doors opened to the corridor that led to the car park. I walked out towards his car with him close behind me. I felt very conscious of him being there, very conscious of how I was walking of how his eyes were probably following me. I was wearing black heels and a charcoal grey suit, a little severe but the whole thing was lightened by the sheer black blouse I had on that was just a little transparent. As we headed towards the car in the dim light, I slipped the jacket off and carried it in my hand. The neon strip lighting fell on me every ten paces or so and made it more obvious that my shirt was transparent. Would he notice? We got to the car and he opened it. I opened the back door and sat down on the seat with my feet outside the car; I carefully folded my jacket and left it on the seat beside me. He hadn’t yet got into the car and he was standing in front of me looking down at me. Another silence, but this time I broke the impasse.
I reached forward and ran the end of my nail around his belt buckle, I looked up at him and then down again. I bit my lip in what I hoped looked like innocent girlie indecision, not that I thought I would be fooling him. I then ran my nail down the outside of the fly of his jeans; I could feel the buttons under the material. He hadn’t moved yet but he was watching me intently. Then he moved a little closer to me, I had the ends of my fingers now lightly on the fly of his jeans, seemingly like magic I could feel that his cock was hardening under my touch. I caressed its outline and looked up again. He smiled at me and said, “So how rough do you like it?” I answered back with a smile, “I bet you can’t get too rough with me.”
He reached out a hand and pushed me back onto the back seat of the car, I could feel my nicely folded jacket under me and for an instant regretted that it would now end up a mess. He half climbed into the car over me, his knees on the edge of the seat. He stretched out a hand and grabbed at my blouse. The light material easily ripped under his hands, the sound of it tearing seemed to delight him. I caught his hand and tried to stop him but he batted my hands away. With both hands he ripped the front of my blouse. I had my knees up and my skirt up around my thighs, he was between my legs and I could feel his jeans against the inside of my thighs.
He loomed over me, his face a clear reflection of the passion he was feeling. I was also feeling really turned on by this sudden turn of events. He grabbed me again, yanking at the front of my bra, he pulled the quarter cups down roughly and my breasts and hard nipples sprang out. He sort of growled at me and grabbed both of them as he lowered his head to suck my nipples greedily.
He sucked on them and bit them and licked them wildly. His hands squeezed my breasts quite savagely and this really was turning me on. I could feel the swelling of his cock in his jeans pressing roughly into where my sex was. I took hold of both sides of his head and pulled his face up towards me. I pulled him up to me and we kissed passionately, he tasted of coffee and cognac. His tongue raped my mouth forcing its way around mine. As he broke off the kiss I bit his lower lip. I let go but as a response he pinched my nipples viciously, I felt a surge of hot desire flow down the center of my sex.
He pushed off me and reached down to where my skirt was rumpled up around my hips. With a yank he pulled it up higher so that it was now around my waist. I could feel the heat of his hands on my bare stomach. Where my stomach ended there was a delicate triangle of black lace, a lace that matched the tops of my stockings. He didn’t notice the care with which I had chosen my underwear, he crudely pulled my thong down along my thighs, effectively trapped my thighs together as it tangled around my knees.
With the situation becoming difficult in the narrow confines of the back seat of his Audi, he simplified it by pushing my legs up towards my head. This crudely exposed my sex to him and as I looked past my own calves I could see how his gaze was transfixed as he looked at my intimate core.
He placed both hands on the underside of my thighs, his weight bearing down on me. Then with his right hand he aggressively fingered me. I felt how his fingers roughly explored my pussy. I was hot and excited so his fingers slipped wetly inside me, this seemed to excite him even more and he enthusiastically pumped his fingers in and out of my wet sex a few times.
My breathing was now ragged, I felt abused and tremendously excited. Him using me as a sexual object and the way in which this excited him so much also made me really hot. I felt wanton and desperate to be fucked. He again placed both hands on my thighs pushing down. I felt the tips of my heels knock on the window of the door behind my head. He climbed half out of the car and then proceeded to devour my sex with his mouth. His style of oral sex wasn’t a style, it was simply a desperate attempt to get as much of my lips into his mouth as he could, then he fucked me with his tongue and then sucked hungrily on my clit. It was rough and wild and was driving me crazy. I could feel liquid from my sex running down the crack of my arse to the seat under us.
Finally he took his face off me and let up on the pressure on my legs. With one hand he pulled my lovely delicate lace thong off past my heels and threw it over his shoulder out onto the floor of the garage. He stood back from me, standing up outside the car. I was a wreck, my gaping pussy in full view and my legs still up in the air. I looked down my body and saw him fumbling as he unbuckled his trousers. This was the moment of truth? Had he been exaggerating?
He pulled down his jeans and I could see an enormous bulge in his shorts. He pulled those down as well, and there it was. It was probably the largest and thickest cock I have ever seen. It was truly long, how long I didn’t know until later, and thick with large pulsing veins and a wonderfully engorged purple looking knob that stood out as being thicker than his shaft.
He leaned in over me again and once more trapped my ankles up around my ears. I could feel how he was positioning himself against me and then... God! The feeling of his enormous knob pushing into me, stretching me to the limit was absolutely orgasmic in itself. Then I felt the hot hard length of him slowly enter me and I shuddered. Even though he was wild in that moment of passion, he was careful to enter me slowly so he did not hurt me. When I felt the head of his wonderful cock firmly lodged up against my cervix I gleefully dug my nails into his arms and hissed at him, “this is what you call rough?” It had the effect I desired; he abandoned all pretence of being gentle with me and instead started to pound me.
I felt his wonderful enormous length stretching me as it slid in and out. I could feel his balls knocking up against me and the tension in his arms as he held himself over me. I moved my hands up behind his head and did my best to bite his ears and his neck, to provoke him. I called him a pussy and asked if he couldn’t fuck me any harder. His attack on me got wilder and wilder, I could feel that I was going to come and was screaming at him and moaning like someone possessed when he suddenly stiffened and exploded inside me. He came copiously; I could feel the spurts of his come inside me. I was close to coming but he had come just a little too soon for me. I clung on to him and ordered him to not stop, to go on fucking me hard. But he collapsed on me totally spent, panting like a marathon runner. His shirt was soaked with sweat. Finally his breathing calmed and he was nice enough to get off me as I still had my ankles up round my ears.
He sat down on the seat and I swirled around and was sitting by the far door. For a moment neither of us spoke. His gaze was lost in the distance somewhere in the blackness of the garage. I felt used and abused and adored the feeling. There was still a kernel of desire and quite some frustration as I hadn’t come, but it didn’t really matter. I looked down and between us on the leather of the back seat there was a large stain from all the sex juices and come. I smiled as I looked at it. Eventually he looked over at me. “I am so sorry,” were his first words. I reached across and held a finger across his lips. “What on earth for?” I asked him, “That was absolutely marvellous.” He smiled at me and kissed the tip of my finger.
We never did make it to Madrid. He went and reserved a room in that hotel we had lunch. I had to get my bag from the back of the car and change into clean clothes before I could risk taking the lift up to our room. We hadn’t even thought about who might have seen us in the car park of the hotel. Later he told me there was a closed circuit TV system and that the barman had given him drinks on the house for some reason. I didn’t ask anything else. We had three days of fantastic unforgettable sex. Then we went home.
As I have been writing this on my laptop, it has started snowing. I have about two centimeters of snow all over my car. It is now half past two and I don’t think he is coming. Maybe he has been held up by the snow. I don’t dare call him as he has advised me that his wife monitors all the calls on his mobile, or perhaps he just prefers me not to bother him. I am going back to the office now, back to my work life. But at least I still have the memories.
