He Almost Got Caught by His Girlfriend in the Parking Lot

It was college years, and I was still studying at night after the office. I’d leave at six in the evening, change shoes on the subway, and head into class from seven to eleven with a tired head but my clothes still intact. Almost all my classmates wore sneakers; I still went in heels and my work blouse. That gave me an advantage that, back then, didn’t bother me at all.

Matías and I had become friends in our second year. He was one of the few guys in the study group, and from the first time we had coffee at the café I knew I liked him. He either hid it well or truly had no idea. He’d had a girlfriend since high school, a girl two years ahead of us named Carolina, and we ran into her all the time in the hallways. Carolina was nice to me. I was part of her boyfriend’s group, and that was enough for her to greet me with a long kiss and ask how I was.

On Saturdays we got together to study at someone’s place. That week we had a complicated project due, and we started at three in the afternoon at Esteban’s place, another classmate’s. There were six of us at first, but by eight only four were left: Esteban, Matías, a girl named Lucía, and me. We ordered pizza and opened the first beers. The conversation drifted from Analysis to something else, and from that to half-childish confessions, the kind people make when they’ve had a little too much to drink and feel comfortable with each other.

I told them about Ricardo. It was an old story for me: a young adjunct professor, not especially handsome but not ugly either, who had been looking at me for weeks until one day I stayed after class with a question and he took the chance to start talking to me. Fifteen minutes in an empty classroom, the door ajar, and the thing was set. The next day another question, a coffee in the cafeteria, my friends out at a club downtown on Saturday, his number in my phone. That night he showed up alone, told me I was very hot, tried to kiss me near the bar, I whispered in his ear that not there, and we ended up at a no-tell motel three blocks away. I passed the course. For them it was a story; for me, a transaction.

Lucía was laughing behind her hand. Esteban looked at me without really knowing what to say. Matías didn’t say anything at the time. When we finally called it a night, almost one in the morning, I offered to drive him home because he had no way back. He lived far away, but I insisted. Lucía was on my way.

We dropped Lucía off first. Then Matías started giving me directions. The avenue was empty, and the silence in the car felt different from the group’s. A few blocks later he asked me:

—Did you really sleep with Ricardo?

—Really.

He was quiet for a moment. Then he laughed.

—You’re something else. I knew you were sharp, but not that sharp.

—If I want something, I get it —I told him—. I don’t overthink it.

That’s when he asked me how it had been. He wanted the details. I told him about the coffee, the club, the hotel. I told him that during sex I had called him “professor” and that had completely undone him. Matías drove with one hand and looked out the window, but he didn’t miss a word. His left leg was bouncing against the gearshift.

—You’re dangerous —he said at last.

We got to his block. I parked where he told me to. The street was dark, deserted. I thought he was going to try something. But he just looked at me for a second and said:

—I would’ve passed you too.

And he got out. I was left there with the engine running and my hands on the wheel.

***

The following Monday, something had changed between us. He, who had always been a bit distant in the hallways, now looked for me with his eyes. He’d grab my hand when he laughed at something stupid. He’d put an arm around my shoulders when we left the classroom. Carolina saw us and laughed with us, not the slightest bit suspicious. I felt a little guilty and a little turned on.

On Friday we handed in the project. The professor took it, flipped through it for two seconds, and told us it was perfect without really reading it. We walked out of the classroom with Matías on the edge of euphoria: it was a class he’d been struggling with, and he’d gotten through it cleanly. In the faculty’s internal parking lot, I offered to drive him home once again.

It was a lit inner road, but with cars parked double and tinted windows that barely let you make out what was happening inside. I got in, started the engine, and before I could put it in gear, he grabbed the back of my neck and kissed me.

It caught me off guard. For a second I thought about stopping him. Then I was the one who went looking for him.

We kissed for a long time, hurriedly, as if we’d both spent months waiting for that minute and didn’t want to waste it. I ran my hand over his jeans and felt him hard, hot, throbbing against the fabric. I rubbed him slowly, lifting him a little with my fingers, and he let out a muffled moan that lit me up from head to toe. We looked at each other closely, mouths still wet, breath mingled. His lips were chapped from pressing so hard, and I was already soaked, squeezing my legs together in the seat so I wouldn’t move too much.

—Take it out for me —I told him.

I unbuckled his belt and pulled his jeans down just enough to get him out. He was thick, odd, slightly curved to the right, with a head broader than the rest and taut skin. I didn’t care. I settled against the console, spread my legs wider, and took him in my hand, feeling the heat and moisture in my palm. I stroked him a couple of times slowly, squeezing lightly at the base, and heard him breathe deep, with that clumsy male sound of a guy who no longer knows where to put his hands.

Here. In the parking lot. At eleven at night.

I leaned in and sucked him calmly at first, running my tongue over the head, then taking him between my lips until I swallowed him almost completely. I tasted the salty flavor of skin and that rougher taste of pent-up arousal. I set a rhythm: one long suck, one harder pull, a sweep of my tongue underneath, the tip against the frenulum again. Matías buried his hand in my hair and stayed still, barely trembling. I watched his face while I did it: eyes closed, jaw clenched, neck tense, as if he were trying to keep himself from making a sound.

—Do it like that —he murmured—. Don’t stop.

I kept going. I took him deeper into my mouth, let him touch the back of my throat, and the sound he made was dirtier, more broken. The car was hot from the engine and from us, fogging slightly at the edges of the windows. I ran my hand over his balls, squeezed them slowly, and felt his pelvis lift suddenly, looking for more friction. He looked at me once, just a glance, and that look sent another jolt through me between my legs.

—I’ve wanted this for months —he muttered, his voice completely wrecked.

—Me too.

I lowered my head again and worked his cock harder, sucking the tip until a thread of saliva spilled down and dirtied my chin. Then I felt him tense in a different way. Different. He made a short signal with his hand, as if he wanted me to stop for a second, and in that instant I realized he was looking forward with a strange expression, somewhere between panic and arousal.

—Carolina.

He said it softly, almost a whisper. I froze with his cock in my mouth, my pulse pounding in my temples.

—What?

—Carolina. She’s there.

I lifted my head just enough to see over the dashboard. Three cars ahead, standing on the sidewalk, Carolina was chatting with two girls I recognized from the previous year. She had her backpack over one shoulder and was laughing at something, oblivious, her hair falling over one cheek. They must have been fifteen meters away, no more. From where they were, they couldn’t see inside the car. Through the tint, if they walked past the side, either —as long as they didn’t deliberately lean in.

I felt a hard punch in my stomach. I thought about sitting up. About staying still. About ducking to the floor. I did all of that in my head in a second. But Matías grabbed my hair with both hands and pushed me back down, not hard, but with a decision that made me get even wetter.

—Don’t stop.

I took his cock back into my mouth. This time I sucked him with a desperation that surprised even me. The arousal was pure poison: fifteen meters from me, his girlfriend was laughing at something a friend was telling her, and I was doing to her boyfriend what she probably had never done to him. I was sucking his dick hidden in the darkness of the car, heart racing and back rigid, while normal life kept going outside.

—You like having me suck you off with her right there —I said, without taking him all the way out of my mouth.

—Shut up.

—Later I’m going to go say hi to her with your cum on my tongue.

I felt him shudder all over. I ran my hand over his testicles again, felt them hard, tight, and sucked the tip harder, using my tongue to press right where he liked it most. He held my head without squeezing, as if he didn’t want to lose control. His breathing turned short, broken, and I knew he was close. I sped up, alternating mouth and hand, pumping his cock in and out with a wet, obscene rhythm until he let out a dull groan and filled my mouth with a hot load that surprised me with how much there was. I swallowed almost all of it right away. What was left, I licked up neatly, slowly, enjoying the warm, salty taste on my tongue.

I straightened up slowly, looking through the side mirror. Carolina was still on the sidewalk, talking, oblivious. Matías had already pulled his jeans back up without my seeing. His eyes were closed and he was breathing as if he’d run a block. My mouth was still wet and my throat was burning a little. I wiped the corner of my lips with my thumb, but not all the way.

—Is she still there? —he asked.

—Still there.

We fell silent. We didn’t know whether to wait for her or walk out of the car like nothing had happened, whether to start the engine and pray she wouldn’t see us, whether to keep talking as if we were checking something. Matías grabbed the project sheets from the back seat and spread them open on the dashboard, pretending we were reading them. His ears were red. I could still feel the weight of his cum on my tongue and, in my body, the tremor of having done it right there with her just meters away.

Then Carolina said goodbye to one of the two friends and the other started walking with her toward us.

I did something I still don’t fully understand. I flashed my headlights at her, as if greeting her from a distance. Carolina looked up, recognized me, smiled. She walked up to us. I lowered the window halfway, just enough for her to lean in.

—Hi! —she said, cheerful—. Just getting out?

—Just getting out —I answered, with a smile I don’t know where I found.

Matías muttered something that couldn’t be made out. He had his arms crossed over the project sheets as if protecting them from the rain. My mouth was still sensitive, and every time I opened my lips a little more I could feel the residue of his load stuck inside, like a mark.

—We were just reviewing something —I added.

—We passed —he said, this time loud and clear, and smiled at his girlfriend with a smile that hurt me.

Carolina gave a small clap. I asked her how she was getting home. She said she was taking the bus at the corner with her friend. I told her to forget it, that we’d drive her. Her friend stayed at the faculty and Carolina got in the back seat. I handed her the seat belt using the rearview mirror. I still had traces of her boyfriend on my tongue, and it was hard not to think about that every time she talked. She kept chatting as if nothing had happened, leaning back in the seat, trusting, normal.

I drove off. Carolina started talking about classes, about an exam she had on Monday, about an unbearable professor. I answered in monosyllables and smiled at her in the mirror. Matías, beside me, didn’t speak. At one point he closed his eyes and pretended to sleep, his head against the window. I could see the pulse in his temple. I was driving with both hands, but I still felt the tingle of having had him in my mouth minutes earlier, the lingering taste in my saliva, the stupid high of adrenaline.

—He’s wiped out —Carolina said, laughing—. All week with that project.

—All week —I repeated.

I dropped her off at her house. I dropped him off too, right there. Carolina gave me a kiss through the window and thanked me for the ride as if I’d saved her night. Matías raised a hand slightly and they went in together.

I went to my boyfriend’s place with my hands a little firmer on the wheel than I wanted them to be.

***

That night I didn’t shower. I wanted to stay a little longer with the strange feeling in my mouth, with my heart still beating differently, with the mix of guilt and triumph that had stayed with me the whole ride. My boyfriend asked if I’d studied well and I told him yes, that I was exhausted.

With Matías, it never happened again. We kept sitting together in class, I kept passing him notes, and he kept cracking jokes at me in the hallways. Carolina kept greeting me with two kisses. Today they’re married and have a little girl; I see them sometimes on social media and like the birthday photos. He never wrote to me, not once, not even drunk. Neither did I.

Of all the things I did in that faculty, that was the worst, and also the one I remember most. Every time I walk past a car with tinted windows in a parking lot, I still feel a strange heat on my tongue.