Chapter 8
I'm gonna tell you about this one time I set off on an adventure, cutting across Brazil to meet a guy I'd connected with online. I'm not some young thing. I can't say it was one of those reckless youthful escapades, the kind done on a whim and forgotten later. But maybe it was worse—or better—because it was deliberate. What drove me was the desire to feel alive, to love, to be loved again, to remember that there was still fire in me.
I met him on Instagram. A smooth-talking guy. One day we started chatting, and I soon realized there was something about his way. A quiet charm, teasing, that hooked me. I let myself get carried away slowly, without even noticing. It was easy talking to him, even enjoyable. He wrote like someone who knew his stuff, like he'd lived a bit more than he let on. And when I came to, there I was, stepping off a plane at Rio de Janeiro airport, in the middle of a bustling crowd, faces coming and going, voices mixing in announcements and hurried footsteps, and me standing there—nervous, with sweaty hands and my heart pounding hard—not entirely sure how big a mistake I was making.
I spotted him first. He was there, with a nervous look, checking his watch, watching the people deplaning. Maybe he couldn't even recognize me—we'd never met in person, after all. Just photos. Or worse: what if he did recognize me and didn't like what he saw? He could just turn his back and walk away. Those thoughts raced through my head one after another, trampling any logic. So many insecurities, all squeezing my chest at once.
I walked slowly, dragging my suitcases with a fragile grip, and that's when he noticed me. His face lit up. A bright smile, full of warmth in his eyes. He came toward me discreetly, almost shy, and stopped in front of me like a goofy boy.
"Hey..." he said, in a low but firm voice.
"Hey..." I replied, feeling my cheeks burn.
"I don't know how to greet you... I just wanna kiss you right here, in front of everybody."
I'd never thought I'd get this embarrassed in public again. But there he was, making me blush like a schoolgirl.
"How about a hug to start?"
He gave me a tight hug. One of those that take your breath away, that say "I love you" and "I'll protect you" without a single word. I stayed there, fitted against his body, feeling his chest rise and fall, the warm scent of skin and cologne mixing, and something inside me settled for the first time in days.
The suitcases went straight to the car. According to his plans, there was still a short trip ahead. Since I'd said I loved the cold and cloudy weather, he'd picked a spot in the Rio mountains, nestled in the hills and close to the clouds.
The drive was stunning. Rio de Janeiro showed off its best and worst views, unapologetically chaotic, like it knew its own power. We climbed a beautiful ridge, with breathtaking vistas and a temperature drop so sudden it was shocking. At the airport, I was sweating; now, I was digging through my bag for a jacket to handle the cold that hit like an unexpected—and delicious—embrace.
The final stretch was down a dirt road in some godforsaken spot, with old houses of quiet locals living in peace with the landscape. Our place was simple, wooden with oil-painted golden yellow, built on a sloping lot covered in a carpet of emerald green grass. Around us, the mountains rose to the sky, imposing, with peaks shrouded in grumpy clouds threatening to soak everything and everyone below. Scattered houses showed the neighborhood was sparse, everyone tucked away in their cabins.
Behind the house, a stream of icy water rushed straight down from the mountain, snaking over rocks to form a natural mineral pool, clear and silent. A lazy sun, filtered through the clouds and treetops, scattered golden beams dancing on the water's surface, like brushstrokes of light painting the scene. Trees heavy with seasonal fruits leaned over the path, generous, while wildflowers burst forth in abundance, as if born from nothing—colorful, vibrant, growing like weeds in beds the nature took its time to design.
Inside, there was nothing magnificent—and maybe that's what made the place so welcoming. It was simple, with a musty smell that reminded me of old vacations. A good smell. The big fireplace in the living room center caught the eye, promising warmth, rest, and maybe... something more.
Once we settled in, he turned to me with a teasing look in his eyes.
"Let's see if you really like the cold... You got the guts to jump in that icy pool?"
"It's too damn cold!" I replied, shrugging, laughing, trying to hide the shiver that wasn't just from the wind.
"We gotta make the most of this sun before it bails. Otherwise, we'll be stuck inside all day. Buck up and throw on a swimsuit."
He went through one door, me through another. The insecurity of being so exposed tightened in my chest. It was cold, but the promise of that mountain sun, even timid, was comforting. I put on a tie bikini, wrapped myself in a sarong, and took a deep breath. It took some courage to show off like that.
When I came out, he was waiting, in trunks, standing there looking at me. I tried not to notice his body, but my eyes betrayed me—and so did my desire. I blushed. But then I felt the heat of his gaze roaming my body. He wanted me. And that made me even more vulnerable.
The pool water was impossible to face. Liquid ice. I spread the sarong on the edge and we sat there, feet dipped in the chilly current rushing from the mountain, while we talked. We traded flirts, silly smiles, chatting about things and people, in that same easy rhythm we'd always had online.
But the weather wasn't in a good mood. Thunder cracked in the distance, and suddenly, the sky opened up. The rain came driven by the wind, whipping fast, sweeping the landscape from our eyes. In minutes, everything turned gray, hidden by the thick, heavy downpour. We sat there, stunned, watching nature's fury hit the grass, the rocks, us.
The rain soaked us through. Skin prickling, lips trembling, hair plastered to our faces. And between laughs and shivers from the cold, I said:
"Let's go inside... we're gonna get sick out here, it's freezing."
He took a step toward me, in the middle of that bone-chilling cold and water streaming off our bodies. He looked at me steady, eyes burning.
"I'll warm you up... come take a rain shower with me."
And he kissed me.
The kiss started with the cold still surrounding us. Water streamed from our hair, our shoulders, hitting our backs like icy needles. But his heat… his heat came like a flame starting shy and then spreading.
When he pulled me into the hug, I felt his body press against mine, hot, firm, his warm skin contrasting with my cold. The touch of our chests, arms, bellies… everything seemed to want to warm. And it did.
The kiss was urgent, wet, hungry. His mouth sought mine like he'd waited a lifetime. His tongue met mine without hesitation. His hands gripped my waist hard, making me forget the wind, the rain, the embarrassment. The cold was still there, hitting my neck, making me shiver, but it was hard to tell if it was the temperature or desire. He squeezed me tighter, and I felt it. The bulge. The hardness. His arousal growing, firm, hard, rubbing against me through his wet trunks.
I didn't know what to do. My muscles tensed, my legs locked for a second. My heart raced, but it wasn't fear anymore—it was excitement.
His hands started roaming my body. First my back, then my waist, sliding up my ribs slowly, slick from the water. He held me with desire, a delicate yet firm hunger. When his fingers started gripping my thighs, I felt my body give in.
I didn't fight it. Didn't want to. I just let it happen, and the cold vanished.
He stepped back, still looking at me like he could see everything going on inside. His wet body glistened under the rain, and his eyes... his eyes were dark, fixed, commanding.
With a calm, almost lazy motion, he untied the knot of my bikini top. The fabric fell slowly over my wet skin, and on instinct, I brought my hands to my chest, trying to cover my breasts. But he gave a subtle shake of his head, like saying "no." No words, just that silent, firm command.
I took a deep breath, and let go. My hands dropped slowly, letting my bare breasts be touched by the wind and water. The sensation was sharp, raw, but strangely freeing. My skin prickled at the cold, but inside, what burned was something else.
He approached again. Without breaking eye contact, he glanced down for a moment, and with the same calm, undid the side ties of my bikini bottom. No rush. No hesitation. The water touching my skin down there seemed to evaporate instantly. The cold was still around, but my pussy burned.
Nothing was said.
His trunks fell with the same ease he'd undone my ties. They slid down his wet legs and pooled at his feet, revealing a hard cock, exposed, throbbing—and somehow hotter than everything there. It sprang out before my eyes, and my body responded before I could think.
I wanted it. Wanted to feel it. Wanted him in me, on me, inside, outside. A raw, almost animal urge took over my chest, my belly, the space between my legs throbbing shamelessly.
He pulled me close again, and when our skin pressed together, the rain became a distant detail. His mouth found mine with force, with hunger, like the kiss was the only thing left to ignite what was already burning. It was a wet, urgent kiss that made the air disappear and the ground slip away. I kissed him back with the same abandon, thinking of nothing but the taste, the tongue, the press of his body against mine.
My hands slid down and wrapped around that hot, firm bulge, feeling every detail, every throb under my trembling fingers. He groaned low, hoarse, into the kiss, like that simple touch was an invitation to madness. At the same time, his fingers explored my body hungrily. One dipped between my legs with precision, wetting even more what already burned. The other hand squeezed my breast hard, marking my skin, making it alive, surrendered.
The shock of it all left me dizzy. It was like being naked in an electrical storm. Every touch a lightning bolt. Every kiss, thunder. I moaned without thinking, bit my lips between breaths, seeking support on his back as my legs stopped obeying.
Our moans cut through the world like the sheets of water falling. The sound of drops hitting leaves, rocks, the distant roof mixed with the sounds of our bodies, our ragged breathing, the moans that could no longer hide.
He looked down at me, eyes lit, face wet, mouth parted with heavy breaths. He knelt before me like he was worshiping my body—like that was his place.
He pulled me by the waist, and I understood. I threw one leg over his shoulder, the other firm on the slippery ground, heart racing, hairs standing not just from the cold, but from anticipation. And then he ate me out.
His hot mouth, his lively tongue, dancing on my pussy like it was playing a sacred instrument. He licked me without ceremony, without shame, without pause. His tongue rose, circled, pressed, drawing pleasure in me like writing deep secrets just for us in my soul. His fingers dug into my ass, holding me tight, spreading, exploring. One found my asshole and slid in slowly, and my whole body reacted in an electric shiver, deep, racing up my spine and bursting in my throat in a hoarse, wet, surrendered moan.
I leaned back, feeling the world spin. I opened my arms like surrendering to the wind, the sky, whatever came. Head thrown back, hair dripping, body arched like a taut bow, mouth open in an uncontrolled laugh, wanting to be drowned by the sky's water, a laugh that was a moan, relief, madness. An orgasm so strong my legs buckled, the ground vanished.
It was like I was tiny, floating between giant mountains, heavy clouds, wet rocks. Just me and him, two small bodies, defying nature's vastness with pleasure.
I dropped to my knees in the soaked grass, laughing, panting, unable to stand. He caught me, firm, keeping me from collapsing completely, but my body wouldn't obey anymore. I ended up on all fours, laughing like a maniac, satisfied, grateful for the gift that felt delivered straight from God.
Panting, out of breath, I tried to gather my scattered thoughts, but he didn't let me.
He took the place of the raindrops trickling over my ass skin and brought heat there, between my thighs, with a touch that didn't ask permission. A hot stroke, unexpected, made me freeze. I let out a muffled, deep moan that no one in the world could hear—except him.
And then I felt the first thrust.
My body reacted trying to pull away, an instinct to recoil, but he held me firm. His hands kept me in place, spread over my waist, saying now I was his. My mouth opened, and I couldn't close it. Raindrops hit my eyes, but my eyelids were too slow to protect anything.
I felt him enter me.
It wasn't gentle. It was deep, intense, slow and final.
He claimed his space inside me. Pushed through, broke resistance, made my body mold to his presence. With every inch, the heat spread through my insides like a living ember.
He was inside me.
He started fucking me.
There was no tenderness left—it was something else. Instinct. Hunger. A brutal rhythm pounding into me like strong waves against rock. Each thrust a raw invasion, painful, making me grit my teeth, cry, scream. But it wasn't rejection pain—it was the pain of surrender, flesh opening to receive.
He held me so tight it felt like my hips would break in his hands. With every push, my body lurched forward and back. The grass mixed with mud under my knees, and he kept me steady, lifting my hips off the ground like I weighed nothing.
I screamed.
Screamed his name, screamed nonsense words, moaned between sobs and mad laughs. His balls slapped my clit with every thrust, making me tremble, moan loud, lose my breath. It was too much. Too strong. Too deep. And I came.
I came with my whole body. Legs shaking, vision blurring, soul leaving my body for a second.
But he didn't stop.
He kept pounding me like he wanted to dig even deeper, like he wanted to go right through me. And I came again, unable to hold back, unable to escape. The pleasure turned to agony. My muscles clenched in involuntary spasms, my belly contracted like it wanted to push the pleasure out, but he was there, still inside, harder, deeper, more his.
"Stop... for God's sake... I need a break..." I begged, my voice cracking in mad laughs between moans and cries of pleasure.
And even so... even so, deep down, I didn't want him to stop.
My body trembled. My breathing came in gasps, still bent over, knees in the soft earth, eyes full of water and rain. But there was something inside me that still wanted more of him.
I turned slowly, mouth parted, eyes shining with lust and abandon. I looked at him, his cock still hard, wet from me, throbbing in the air like an unfulfilled promise. I grabbed it with both hands, firm, and brought it to my mouth without hesitation.
I sucked slow at first, just the head, licking the taste of my own cum still dripping. He groaned loud, threw his head back, and I smiled with my mouth full, feeling my tongue dance around, sucking, teasing. I drew out every bit of me that was on him, and more.
Then I went deep. Mouth fitted, jaw aching, the wet, indecent sound of my mouth working him in the rain, without shame, without pause. He held my hair, panting, lost, and I felt the power of every groan of his at the base of my tongue.
When he got hard again, even tenser, I sped up. His breaths shortened. And when I felt it coming, I took him to my throat, eyes rolling up to meet his—and let him come.
He came with a hoarse, almost angry groan, his whole body shaking under my hands. I felt every hot spurt filling my mouth and swallowed it all without breaking eye contact. When he went soft, I gave a little laugh, brought his cock to my face, and played, slapping it on my cheek like intimate silliness—dirty, conspiratorial, ours.
We both laughed, still panting, still naked in the rain. The water didn't feel cold anymore. The world didn't seem so big.
Spent, exhausted, laughing like two senseless teenagers, we ran inside naked, slipping on the wooden porch, soaking everything we passed, leaving footprints and sin on the floor.
And in there, between the drips still falling from the ends of our hair and the scent of wet earth coming through the window, I knew: the cold was gone.
It was just our heat now.