Remembering MANUELA

I never thought I’d put my sexual experiences into writing. But I feel like remembering, and besides, I’ll probably get turned on.

I’m 40 years old, financially comfortable, with a pleasant job I’m passionate about, and I’ve been happily married for three years to Charo, a wonderful woman I love and with whom I have a great sexual understanding—something tremendously important to me. However, my brain and my cock have been remembering MANUELA for years.

She was a coworker I probably became sexually obsessed with (+ fell in love with?) from the moment I first saw her. Petite, blonde, and round, very round. She doesn’t stir passions when she walks by, nor does she instantly give you a hard-on just by looking at her body, but for me, she was the ultimate, the most desired, the fulfillment of intimate fantasies and one of the hottest, most pleasurable sexual memories I have.

Only twice in the more than ten years we worked together did we have a sexual relationship. Time has passed, but I remember it often, get turned on by it, and even my usual sexual games and my fantasies and daydreams tend to repeat what I did with her. I don’t think I’m undervaluing other women I’ve had and do have sex with, but after Manuela, my sex life changed. What I write here is a reflection of that.

I walked into the bar on the corner of the street where the newspaper we worked for was located one Friday night. An argument with my boss, the exhaustion of the whole week, my spirits a bit low, my then-girlfriend out of London for several days… I had no desire to do anything except have a couple of drinks while chatting with the bartender about the upcoming football match.

At one of the tables are Manuela and one of the secretaries, Elisa. They greet me and continue with their chat and laughter.

After my second gin and tonic, and after entertaining myself with the football chat between the bartender and another regular customer, I was already thinking of calling it a night when I get a pat on the back and hear: “Luis, you’re so alone over there, you get so serious at the office no one can be buddy-buddy with you. Come buy us a drink, there’s no work tomorrow.”

Elisa’s phrase and Manuela’s laughter encourage me to sit at their table. After a while, it’s clear we all want to laugh and have a bit too much to drink. We order three rounds in quick succession.

I had always liked that young woman, small in size and not very striking, but pretty and, to me, tremendously sensual. Laughing and in a cheerful atmosphere, she seems like the most attractive and desirable woman in the world. I’m not quite sure what my behavior is, but Elisa must notice something and quickly, claiming it’s late and her boyfriend will get angry if he calls and she’s not home, she leaves after cracking some jokes about us behaving well.

Another while of cheerful, trivial chat I don’t remember, another drink, and Manuela and I are already walking through the dark, solitary hallways that lead to the company parking lot. Going down the stairs, a small stumble (and the excess of gin and tonics) leads me to place my hand, not very gently, on the blonde’s ass. More with fear than shame, I wait for her reaction, preparing for a scolding or worse, but I’m certainly surprised to hear: “It was about time, you jerk, I thought we were leaving and you weren’t even going to try to kiss me.”

Why wait any longer? I pounce on her mouth while hugging her, and my cock starts to notice something is going to happen.

What a marvel! Just like my first sexual encounters as a teenager, I start having all sorts of sensations while remaining constantly surprised by the voracity of Manuela’s mouth, which devours my tongue, lips, and entire mouth, kissing, sucking, and biting with a wonderful sensuality, and showing speed and manual skill to expose my cock, stiff, hard, and already in urgent need of care.

She’s barely given me time to unbutton her blouse when she starts moving her hand up and down my dick and biting my ear while whispering: “It’s so thick, you fag; how I like them like that, you bastard!”

Wow! Finally! The dream of my sex life, a passionate woman who talks, shouts, and insults me while we do it. Damn, the little blonde who’s so modest and meek at work!

We think we hear a noise and clumsily get into her car, in the back seats. False alarm. I’m feasting on small, pointy, very firm tits with small, dark, rough nipples surrounded by some long hairs I can’t see but can taste, while I firmly grab a round, tight, large ass and try to position myself to put my mouth between Manuela’s thighs.

“Stay still, you bastard, you’re turning me on like never before. Don’t eat my pussy, I want this excitement to last. Keep going with my tits and give me your dick!” Celestial music to my ears, accompanied by a noisy slurping performed on my cock by an eager, saliva-drenched mouth not at all afraid to use her teeth.

Once again, I can confirm that excess alcohol delays ejaculation; under normal conditions, I would have cum many minutes earlier. “Give me your pussy, Manuela, let me put it in please, I can’t take it anymore.” “Don’t you dare cum, you fucking faggot; I want it hard, for longer, and how I tell you. Squeeze my tits, don’t stop!”

I can’t take it anymore. Between the forced position trying to eat her pussy, the strong and exciting smell, my hands moving from her little tits to her marvelous ass, and the hard, strong, and tremendously sloppy blowjob, I cum with a small shout and the sensation that it was one of the best orgasms of my life.

I’m not Superman. It takes me a while to be ready again once I go soft, but in what seems like a minute, I’m hard again watching Manuela eagerly swallow my cum, slurping, making noise, getting her face and tits messy, and then saying: “Get ready, pig, because you have to please me, I’m at a thousand and you’re not leaving me like this. Start eating my pussy and lick my ass too, come on, you bastard!”

What a marvel! How exciting! More, more, more! I love it.

When I manage to position myself behind her to lick and eat that marvelous ass and that almost hairless sex, Manuela seems like a fountain of delicious vaginal juices. She’s very aroused, breathing heavily, and moving her ass towards me as if she were fucking my tongue. “Don’t you dare stop until I tell you, keep going, faggot, keep going!”

I was expecting a loud climax from her, but no, she goes still for a few seconds, softly and gently muttering a kind of “aaaaaayyyyy.” I keep licking her pussy, now more gently and slowly, waiting for her orders, which arrive in a thread of a voice: “Okay, that’s enough, I don’t want anymore; stop, leave me now.”

She sits on the soaking wet seat, leans her head back against the headrest, and closes her eyes. “Don’t touch me. Every time I fuck a guy, after a while, I have to masturbate. Watch me if you want, but don’t touch me or talk to me, jerk off if you need to.”

Damn, what more could I ask for? My dick is like a jackhammer again. I start stroking it while watching Manuela touch her clit very softly; with her eyes closed, she speaks in a very low voice, repeating something like: “Pig, you’re a pig, like all of them; pig and faggot.”

I don’t last long, I cum like a madman trying to make my cum splatter and stain Manuela, who climaxes shortly after with a little shout and breathes heavily for quite some time.

After a few minutes, we adjust our clothes and she, with an attitude that seems ashamed to me, urges me to get out of the car while she starts the engine.

Damn, what a letdown. After a great sex session with the woman I had desired most for years….. I don’t know what to do; clumsily, I get out of the car and don’t say a word as she drives away.

With my shirttails hanging out of my poorly buttoned pants, my jacket and briefcase falling from my hands, looking for my car keys… the dumb look I must have had while trying to react; well, I didn’t expect “my big night with Manuela” to end like that.

On Monday, I try to talk to her. She doesn’t go down for coffee first thing or have breakfast at the usual little bar where we often cross paths. She doesn’t answer the phone. Before going out for lunch, I have a moment and go to her office. Elisa, her secretary, tells me she’s been out and that in the afternoon she’s going with a company delegation to a conference or something similar organized in the hotel area near the airport. With a silly excuse, I manage to get her to tell me the name of the hotel and the conference schedule.