A Most Enjoyable Niterói Evening

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Note: This story came about in a hurry – well, it already was pretty much done in my head, but it got out in a hurry, being spurred on by a request in the comments to the first instalment – ‘A most enjoyable Niterói morning’ – that a sequel wouldn’t be a bad idea.

To meet the 2024NDC contest deadline, not much editing has been done – but I hope the result is enjoyable still. -Thanks!

//

Strolling along the beachfront sidewalk, I had a certain spring in my step – I’d spent the day’s available moments – and a few strictly speaking, not available ones – reviewing the morning and imagining what the evening might bring.

I probably hadn’t been as hard, as long, since I was a teenager – and my work… Well, suffice to say I’d had more productive days in Brazil. To their credit, though, everyone in the shipyard had been very understanding once I told them the reason I was so distracted was a woman – a woman I’d scored a date with the very same evening, to boot!

I did, however, leave out the details of how we’d met. Well, technically speaking, I guess we hadn’t yet – I’d never been within 50 feet of her.

Would she be there? Surely she wouldn’t stand me up after the fun we’d had? Or? She had claimed she enjoyed the attention, seeing the effect she had on me. I hoped she’d been sincere. I believed she had been. I REALLY wanted to believe she had been.

Glancing at my watch, it showed just a quarter past six – the guys at Wilson’s had generously let me go early to get ready for my date. If Barbara wasn’t already at the beach bar when I arrived, I figured I’d take my chances darting by my hotel room for a quick shower before returning – it was only a six- or seven minute walk from the bar.

A second later, the decision was made for me, as I spotted a hand waving eagerly and then, half a second later, saw her face, lit up in a smile I really could do with seeing more often when a woman spotted me.

I simply jumped over the rope fence separating the bar from the rest of the beach and sat down opposite her, putting on my best smile for her. She looked astonishing, in a simple, bright yellow dress which really made her stand out. Oh, and the cleavage… I quickly raised my gaze to meet hers, hopefully before my staring became embarrassing. Not that her face looked any less astonishing, now that I got a look at her up close – her full lips were seemingly without any make-up except a hint of lip gloss, high cheekbones, nose perhaps slightly on the broad side if she’d considered a career in modeling, but damn, did it make her look cute. Oh, and her eyes? So large, so dark brown I almost felt drawn into them. Another smile.

“So glad to see you, I will admit to wondering on and off throughout the day whether you were just pulling my leg or if we’d meet…”

With a laugh, she threw her head back, then shook it. “No, no – of course I’d like to… Well, you made me curious, Norwegian. For one, how come you speak Portuguese so well? You even speak it like a Brasileiro – with an accent, mind – not like a European?

I shrugged. “Work. I’ve been working at length in both Mozambique, Angola and Brazil, dropped by the Cabo Verde and Guinea-Bissau, too, for a few weeks – so… Well, I’ve picked up quite a bit. Fun thing is, when I’m in Lisbon, which is not very often, people tend to observe I speak like a, uh, melanin-rich person.”

Another laugh from across the table as I waved for a waiter’s attention. “Melanin-rich, huh? I guess that wasn’t quite the phrase they used?”

“Not quite. Anyway, I tend to come here three or four times a year, have for the past fifteen, now – so I kind of consider this bairro my own by now.”

Nods from Barbara, who shook her head and laughed softly.

“With that track record, I guess you may know this neighbourhood better than I do, I only came here last year.”

She shrugged. “From a godforsaken place called Aimorés, down in Minas Gerais. Farm girl. College was my ticket out of there.”

As if on cue, the waiter arrived. I looked at her. “What would you like?”

She started a rapid-fire exchange with the waiter which I barely caught half of, before settling on what I took to be a domestic sparkling wine. OK, I’d had decent espumantes myself, on occasion, so I asked the waiter if it was veeee-eery dry? After an affirmative nod, I ordered the same – oh, and a beer on the side, please.

He was off, and we just looked at each other for a second, quiet.

Barbara took the lead.

“I’m a secretary over in Rio, by the way – that’s why I get up so early. My employer relocated to Horto this spring, you know it?” She stared intently at me, slight smirk, seeming to enjoy quizzing me.

“Uh, I’m not sure, but is that out past the Jardim Botanico? I think I saw some signs with directions to Horto when I was there, but didn’t know there were beautiful women with mad yoga skills there then, so I didn’t pay it a visit…”

Another laugh. “Very good, Norwegian. Very good. You’re right. Anyway, the commute is about an hour and a half on a good day, so if I am to be in the office by seven, the 0518 bus from the corner it is.”

She giggled. “Only thing gebze escort keeping me sane is doing the yoga routine before heading off. Today was more pleasant than usual, though.”

She paused for a moment as the waiter returned with our glasses and a bottle – a classic, we hadn’t explicitly said we only wanted two glasses, so obviously, he upsold us to a bottle. Oh well, I didn’t mind. He expertly uncorked it and filled her glass, then mine, realized he’d forgotten my beer and promised to be back in no time.

“Speaking of which,” she quipped as she sipped the espumante and nodded in approval. “Speaking of which”, she repeated while the waiter hastily moved out of earshot and within reach of a beer – “You do realize that unless you turn out to be a real dork, we’ll be fucking each other within the hour, right?”

I had kind of, sort of, figured as much, but I was thrilled to hear her say it. “I’ll happily drink to that,” I replied, raising my glass to her.

We just looked at each other for a while, in a somewhat awkward, but not at all unpleasant silence as the waiter made his way back to our table with a frosty glass of Brahma.

Under the table, her bare calf came to rest on my shin, rubbing it softly, deliberately as the waiter did his thing and made his retreat, after probably spending a little longer than needed to put down the beer mat and positioning my glass in the exact center of it. I assumed it had less to do with OCD and more to do with Barbara’s ample cleavage.

I nodded towards it once he went away. “Dress to impress, do you? Poor waiter was tormented, trying to come up with a reason to stay. I give him five minutes until he returns with a rag to wipe off the table!”

That earned me a giggle. “As I told you this morning – I like making an impression. Speaking of this morning, I…” she blushed, shook her head, looked out towards the bay for a moment before reverting her gaze to me. “It was, truth be told, the hottest experience I can remember ever having. Sure, I like, uh, showing off, occasionally and innocently, seeing what effect I have on men – oh, and some women, too – but what we did…”

She shook her head again, before asking me, imploringly – “Please, tell me you, too, felt it was something, uh, special? That rapport we built, as we pleased ourselves and each other, the naughtiness of doing it out in public, the thrill…”

She laughed. “Nevermind, I am lowering my standards. You can be a dork, even – I draw the line at crazed killer, now. Fuck, I am so ready for…”

I was already painfully hard, and her words made my cock throb. Moving closer to the table, I could just put a hand on her knee without having to get into an awkward pose.

“No worries, then – I have been called a dork on occasion, but I’ve yet to kill anyone. As for this morning, I agree. Never, ever, I believe, have I felt as turned on by anyone. Seeing you – beautiful you, by the way – so intimate, yet so out of reach – part of me, you know, wanted to ask you right then what flat you lived in, so I could come over to join you – but then, alas, you told me you had to go to work…”

Her knee felt so good to the touch – so warm, so smooth, so… So Barbara. She’d become my Ylajali – look it up – my muse, my temptress, my… I hadn’t been able to keep her out of my mind for even an instant, all day. And here she was, smiling at me, assuring me we’d be having sex shortly, parting her legs slightly, inviting me, perhaps, to slide my hand up her thigh…

I did, reaching as far forward as I could, given the table. Barbara smirked as she had another sip of her wine, then suggested it was a pity the table was this big, as if I’d been able to reach just a little bit longer, I’d find that she wasn’t wearing any panties.

I swallowed, hard. Who would have imagined that finishing off a bottle of decent sparkling wine in good company would feel like torture?

Trying – very hard, but fighting a losing battle – I tried to make small talk about this and that – to keep my mind distracted from what was on the cards as soon as we paid our bill and headed up into town.

She called me on it in no time.

“Uh, so, how do you find living in the big city, then? Aimorés probably isn’t as godforsaken as you make it out to be by my standards – Norwegians all seemingly hate being around others and, hence, we try to distribute ourselves evenly across the country to have maximum distance to the rest of the citizenry – but what’s it like, then, living in one of the biggest and greatest urban areas of the world?”

Putting her hand on top of mine and squeezing it against her thigh, she winked. “Oh, it is not too bad at all – best of all, you can actually get laid here, without having to meet him every day afterwards.”

She giggled and had another sip, seemingly eager to get the bottle over with, just as I was. “Not that I sleep around that much, it’s been a few weeks, now. I guess this morning was just a perfect storm – me being horny, deciding to do my morning routine naked for the thrills, you seeing me, us… Well, I was – am – in need, and you seem to be as eager as I am, so…”

I gümüşhane escort liked to think of myself as a man who could control his urges and passions, but this was becoming difficult. Very difficult.

“So, uh, Barbara, in light of that…”

She nodded, then pushed back her chair and got up. “Let us.”

As I got up, I turned to the bar and made a gesture to have them ready the check; before we’d made our way over there, the barmaid had our tab ready and I – somewhat hurriedly, I guess – tossed a couple of bills on the bar. “I trust there wasn’t anything wrong with your drinks, Sir?” the barmaid asked as she put the bills in the register and got the change.

“Oh, not at all,” observed my femme fatale. “It just so happens that we urgently need to go, uh, somewhere more private.”

I felt myself blush like mad, to the extent that the barmaid laughed out loud and suggested she bring me back home immediately before I fainted.

“Keep the change!” I blurted, turned around, took Barbara by the arm and led her out onto the beachfront promenade. From behind, I heard a muted “Enjoy yourselves!” as we took a right on the promenade and headed for her apartment. I floated on air as we made for her – our – street, holding hands with a beautiful woman who was about to have sex with me. Life was good.

Very good.

We trundled along the promenade in silence – there really wasn’t much which needed to be said. The afternoon rush was at its peak, so more than walking as such, we just drifted along with the crowd – needing to change direction ever so slightly every couple of steps to avoid colliding with others, be they bicyclists, couples with kids, pensioners, tourists…

As we stopped at a zebra crossing, I took my chances resting my hand on her hip, pulling her closer.

She leaned into me. I felt on top of the world. The light turned green and we hurried across. A couple of minutes, and we’d be at the entrance to her building…

“So,” she softly asked as we made our way up the street. “A nickel for your thoughts. Be honest. What’s on your mind this very moment?”

I laughed. “What do you think? I am not even going to pretend I wonder what your apartment looks like, or what deep conversations we’ll have on life’s big subjects – though I’d be happy to have those, too. After what I have a feeling is likely to happen shortly after we arrive at your place…”

“That didn’t answer my question. Say it, please. Exactly what you were thinking of. No euphemisms.”

“Fair enough. I’ve been wondering how you’d be like once we, uh, get down to it. Judging from your confidence and how you seemingly get a thrill both from showing yourself off and openly discussing the subject, I assume you’ll be quite assertive. Can’t wait to find out.”

A few seconds passed in silence, before she turned to me, smiling. “I think you may be surprised. Pleasantly so, I hope.” Another couple of seconds, then “I really look forward to this, though. All day, being so turned on I hardly knew what to do with myself, meeting you now… Today’s been, frankly, the longest foreplay I’ve ever endured.”

That was pretty much how I felt about it, too. It had taken all I had of self control not to sneak off for a few minutes during work to relieve the pressure a little – then again, I really hadn’t wanted to; I’d desired this moment all day, close to Barbara, so turned on I was about to burst. One thing was certain: Once we got at it, I had better make sure I got to eat her out before anything else happened – because if she as much as touched my cock, I was afraid I’d shoot my load like a teenager, right there. That wouldn’t do.

Heck. In the spirit of frankness and full disclosure, here goes. “Same here. Matter of fact, once we get to your place, I’ve a mind to eat you out. Giving you a head start, or I’ll cum in ten seconds flat. Hope you don’t mind?”

She squeezed my hand. Hard. “I hoped you would. Please do. Remember,” – she used her free hand to playfully tug at her dress, pulling up the hemline a little past her knees. “Remember, no panties. For the record, I wouldn’t mind in the least if you simply pushed me up against the wall once we’re in my apartment and got started. Not at all.”

I felt dizzy. Her tone of voice – so matter-of-factly, not teasing, not thick with lust – she just plainly told me what she wanted to happen, in much the same way she’d tell me that she took sugar in her coffee or that the orange juice was in the fridge door – if anything, it made me even more turned on than I’d have been if her voice had been all syrupy, dripping with lust as it made its way to my ear.

“Deal.”

We were on our block. The entrance to my hotel was near the end of it, on the opposite side of the street. My heart pounded in my chest like I had just ran up the stairs to her floor; I could feel my cock throb with every step I took. Soon. Very soon.

Reaching into the purse she’d slung over her shoulder, she pulled out an access card. Seconds later, we stopped in front of an entrance, made it up the handful of stairs from street level, the lock buzzed as the card was izmir escort put up to it, door opened…

It hadn’t been that warm outside – hovering just around the 30C/85F mark – but the A/C cool enveloping me felt great, doubly so as it made Barbara feel even warmer as she clung to me. We made for the nearest elevator. Luckily, it was already on the ground floor. Hurrying inside, Barbara pushed her card against the reader in the car and pressed the button for the 11th floor.

As soon as the car started moving, I pushed her up against the wall, fell on my knees and pulled up her dress. She squealed, giggling “Oh fuck, don’t, what if…” Her sex was right in front of me. I caught a whiff of her scent. So musky, so… I parted my lips, pushed my tongue against the fur mat, parted it, had my first taste of her. She whimpered. “Gooo-ooood!!!!”

I lapped greedily away at the top end of her slit, tasting her, feeling her excitement, before pulling away and getting up again – after all, I, too, had a minimum of modesty left, and I wouldn’t want to put her in the rather embarrassing position of suddenly greeting her neighbours with a man’s face buried in her crotch. “Oh, Senhora Cardoso, please meet my friend Erling, he’s from Norway…”

Nope. That wouldn’t do.

Her cheeks looked decidedly rosy when I faced her again, which, given the lovely bronze hue of her skin, was quite the achievement. The car came to a stop on our floor, and we got out. Laughing, she observed that she’d been pondering what to do if the elevator had indeed stopped on its way up – probably frantically pushing the ‘doors close’-button, hoping she could make the elevator move on before anyone got to open the door. Getting on her toes, she planted a quick kiss on my lips. “I can taste myself on you!” she giggled, then nodded towards the 3rd door on the left. “That one’s mine. Don’t waste a second.”

I didn’t. Just as instructed – the moment we were in her tiny hallway, I pushed her up against the wall, got on my knees while pushing the door shut behind us with my right foot, dove under her dress and… Bliss.

Barbara squealed with delight and next thing I knew, her hands were in my hair, pushing my face against her. My tongue rasped along the full length of her slit, bottom to top, parting her labia and… She felt amazing – so soaked, so enthusiastic from the get-go – yes, she must have felt the same way I had, as we’d touched upon walking here – all day had been foreplay, expectation building to this moment.

And what a moment it was. She was on fire, violently pushing my face towards her, urging me to go on, harder, faster, just make her cum, already!

I would do my best. My face already soaked in her juices, I pursed my lips, then landed over her clit hood. A moan from above, followed by a playful “Oh, that’s cheee-eeating, I’ll have you know!” – not that she appeared to mind my cheating at all. Gently tickling her with my tongue, her knees buckled and I had to push her more firmly against the wall, playing with her most sensitive spot, teasing it, before pulling away and doing a few lazy strokes up and down her slit. Groan of disappointment. “Stop being such a fucking tease, just make me cum, I’ll make it, oooh, up to you, promise, I…”

She was rambling incoherently. Obviously not unaffected, she, either. Returning to her clit, I gently sucked at it, feeling it grow – and then, holding still, not moving at all, I felt her tense. “Stop. Being. Such. A. Fucking. TEASE!!!” she implored. Fair enough, have it your way, I thought – and let the tip of my tongue circle her clit. With a long, drawn-out moan, she came, and she came hard. It was all I could do to hold her upright as she shook in orgasm, knees buckling, hands tussling my hair, thrusting my face at her pussy – I was in heaven. And soon, very soon…

As her orgasm ebbed, I got up, still steadying her. Opening her eyes, she smiled, then kissed me, first on the chin, then my cheeks, before planting a long, wet kiss on my lips.

“I needed that,” she quipped. “I trust it didn’t feel like time wasted to you, either?”, before planting another kiss on my lips.

She laughed. “You can let go of me now, by the way. Want something to drink?” I let go of her, and she slipped past me, heading through a string curtain into what was presumably the living room. I eagerly followed. Quelle surprise. At this point, I’d probably follow her over a cliff’s edge if that was what it took to stay close to her.

The room was small, but cosy. On the far wall, facing the street, her balcony and a couple of windows, sunblinds down. Far left, a kitchenette, tidier than mine had ever been. Right, a sofa. Unless I was much mistaken, it did double duty as bed. Art posters on the walls – luckily, I thought, not the new agey fantasy landscapes-thingies – far from it, Miró, Dalí – no melting clocks, my favourite painting of his, Christ of St. John of the Cross, adorned the wall between the door to the hall and a bookshelf. Much to my amusement, I was immediately drawn towards the bookshelf. You can learn a lot about people in a very short time by seeing what books they read. I was surprised. Lots of prose, mostly history and philosophy – an eclectic mix if I ever saw one, from the marxist Hobsbawm to the ultra-libertarian Ludwig von Mises with all the usual culprits inbetween. I turned to face Barbara. “We need to talk about this” – I waved at her bookshelf – “…afterwards.”