I Went to Keep Her Company and Ended Up in Her Bed

When Felipe called me to ask a favor, I was half undressed after a long Friday. I had no desire to go out. But Felipe and Marcos owed me several favors like that, so I agreed without making much of a scene.

The plan was simple: Marcos had been after Valeria for weeks, Valeria being Clara’s friend, Clara the owner of the house where the get-together was being held. Felipe was going after Clara. I was supposed to keep Sandra, Valeria’s sister, company so nobody would be left alone or uncomfortable. Before we got out of the car, the two of them told me together, almost in chorus:

—Don’t mess around with any of ours.

—Promise —I said, and I meant it.

Marcos wore a dark suit. Felipe did too. I was in gray trousers, a shirt without a tie, and the jacket I’d grabbed at the last minute. They asked me to change. I didn’t. To be honest, I wasn’t entirely convinced I was even going, so there wasn’t much point in making the effort to dress as if I were.

Clara opened the door with a smile aimed straight at Felipe. The living room had low music, about fifteen people scattered in groups, glasses on the table. Clara led us to the back of the room, where the two of them were sitting.

Sandra was pretty. Curly hair, big eyes, a laugh you could hear from far away. I held out my hand and she shook it energetically.

But when Valeria stood to greet us, I understood why Marcos had been talking about her for weeks.

She must have been about thirty-five. Pale skin, eyes that vague color somewhere between brown and green. Straight hair pulled back into a ponytail, not a strand out of place. She wore a black skirt above the knee, dark stockings, and a discreetly low-cut blouse that did exactly what it was supposed to do. Everything about her was exact. The way she moved, the way she extended her hand, the way she smiled when we were introduced.

Our eyes met for a second too long.

I looked away.

You promised.

I sat next to Sandra and focused on her. It wasn’t hard: she had a sense of humor, told things well, and laughed easily. We talked for a good while while Marcos, to my right, did what he did best when he was nervous: talked about himself. About his job, his car, some project he had in mind, I don’t know what. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Valeria watching him with that polite, cold expression people wear when they’re bored but don’t want to be rude.

At some point I got up to get drinks for Sandra and me. When I came back and set the glasses on the table, I heard Valeria’s voice from the other side:

—Nothing for me?

I had to kick Marcos under the table to get him to react. The man shot up, red-faced, to fix the mistake.

Sandra leaned toward me and said quietly:

—She hasn’t taken her eyes off you since you got here.

I didn’t answer. I finished my drink and changed the subject.

***

When Felipe got up to dance with Clara, Marcos dragged Valeria onto the floor. I stayed with Sandra. I went to the bar for another round and on the way, with no plan to do so, I paused for a moment to watch Valeria dance.

She moved with calm precision, without exaggeration, without trying to be the center of attention. But there was something in the way she moved that was hard not to notice. The skirt outlined her hips with each turn. Her legs, in those thigh-high stockings, were exactly what one imagines when one is supposedly imagining nothing at all.

I went back to the table and sat down with my back to the dance floor.

Sandra and I kept talking. Her laughter filled the whole table. When the others came back and we all sat down, the conversation spread around, but I could tell Valeria was trying to participate more than the situation naturally called for. She asked questions aimed at me even when she made them in general.

After a while, Sandra told me she had to leave. She was married; she had to get home at a reasonable hour. She took a card out of her purse and slipped it into my hand where no one could see.

—Call me whenever you want to go out with less of a rush —she said.

We kissed on the lips. Quick, but not ambiguous. When she pulled away, she whispered in my ear:

—Have a good time with my sister. It’s obvious as hell she wants you. Don’t keep her waiting any longer and don’t play hard to get, because I know her: if you don’t fuck her tonight, tomorrow she’ll be in a bad mood with me.

She said goodbye to everyone with her big laugh and left. I stared at the card for a moment before putting it away.

***

It didn’t take me long to understand what she meant.

Valeria asked me if I danced. I told her it wasn’t really my thing. She stood up, held out her hand, and said without any room for negotiation:

—My sister put you in my care. Come on.

I looked at Marcos. He shrugged with a grimace that was equal parts resignation and annoyance. I held up my hands to show it hadn’t been my idea and went with her.

We danced. At first with the distance that’s proper between people who’ve just met. But Valeria began closing the gap little by little, with that same precision she had in everything she did. By the second song she was close enough for me to feel the heat of her neck.

—You were much nicer with Sandra —she said.

—With Sandra there was no reason to be serious.

—And with me there is?

I took a moment before answering.

—I came with Marcos.

—I know. And you know there’s absolutely nothing between Marcos and me, right? There never was.

I wasn’t surprised. It had been obvious from the start.

When we went back to the table, Marcos was already in a better mood. He’d had a few drinks and decided the night could end well in some other way. Not long after, he got up, said goodbye, and asked if I was leaving with him or staying. Before I could open my mouth, Valeria said she’d take me home.

Marcos left without making a fuss. He was a better person than he looked when he was nervous.

***

There were four of us left around the table: Clara, Felipe, Valeria, and me. Valeria took a record from the case she’d brought and handed it to Clara to put on. She turned to me with a smile:

—You’re not getting out of dancing for the rest of the night.

—I had no intention of getting out of it —I said.

We danced for a long while. The other couples left in the room gradually disappeared. At a certain point I stopped noticing whether anyone else was there or not. Valeria had her hands around my neck. Mine were on her waist, and every so often they drifted a little lower without either of us saying anything about it. On one of those downward slides they went straight to her ass, over the skirt, and she didn’t move: on the contrary, she pressed her hip harder against mine. I had a hard-on and she had to be feeling it all the way through the fabric. She brought her lips to my ear and whispered:

—You’ve been hard for a while, huh?

—Since I saw you dancing with Marcos.

—Liar. Since before.

—Want to step outside for a minute? —she asked me.

We went out.

***

The night outside was cool. Valeria’s car, a black Peugeot, was parked half a block away. We walked together at an unhurried pace. When we got there, she said she was going to get more music for Clara. She opened the passenger-side door and leaned inside to rummage through the glove compartment.

I stayed behind her without pretending I wasn’t looking. Her skirt had ridden up with the bend, and above the dark stockings you could see the strip of white thigh and the edge of a black thong. She lingered rummaging longer than necessary, her ass raised toward me, knowing perfectly well what she was doing.

When she straightened up with the case in hand and turned, she was about twenty centimeters from my face. We said nothing. The distance closed on its own.

I kissed her against the car door. She answered immediately, one hand on my chest and the other gripping the back of my neck. It was a long, direct kiss, no testing the waters. Her tongue slid into my mouth looking for mine, and I sucked on it slowly, biting her lower lip when she pulled back to breathe. She tasted of the night’s wine and something else I couldn’t quite name.

I pressed my hip against hers. She didn’t pull away: on the contrary, she slipped one hand between us and squeezed my cock over my pants, measuring it with her palm, pressing and releasing as if calculating what she had ahead of her. I lifted her skirt to her waist with both hands and grabbed her naked ass, a firm, round ass that filled my palms. I slipped a finger under her thong and ran it down the seam until I felt she was truly wet. She let out a short moan against my mouth.

—Not here —she panted—. Not here. Inside.

—You sure?

—Sure I’m going to fuck you. Not here.

When we stopped, both of us were breathing harder than before. I lowered her skirt again, though it took effort to let go of her ass. Valeria looked at me for a second with that direct expression I was already getting used to, ran her thumb over her lip to fix her smudged red, and said:

—Let’s go in. It’s cold. And it shows too much on my face.

***

When we went back in with the record, Clara and Felipe greeted us with a smile that made no pretense of not knowing anything. We put on the music, danced some more, finished our drinks. At some point Clara came over and suggested that if we wanted, there was a spare room. Her kids were away that weekend. That way we wouldn’t have to worry about anything and could all have breakfast together the next day.

Valeria looked at me. I nodded.

We went upstairs behind Clara, who pointed to the back room and disappeared.

***

The room was dim. Valeria locked the door and turned toward me. We came together in the dark and kissed again, but this one was different from the one outside. Slower. Deeper. She pressed her whole body against mine, one leg tangled between mine, and squeezed my cock again over my pants. This time without haste, measuring with an open hand how much length there was, until she found the tip with her thumb and pressed over the fabric.

—You’re really hard —she said, in a low voice, as if commenting on the weather.

—Your fault.

—I know.

My hands found the side zipper of her skirt and I lowered it. The skirt fell to the floor. The stockings remained, rising to mid-thigh, and the black lace thong I already knew. I took off her blouse. Underneath she wore a matching black bra, which I eased down little by little until her tits popped free: two medium, white breasts, the nipples already hard and dark. I lowered my head and took one into my mouth. I sucked it slowly, circling the nipple with my tongue while I pinched the other with my hand. She arched her back and dug her nails into my shoulders.

—Wait —she said, and gently pushed me away.

She unbuttoned my shirt one button at a time, unhurried, and then went after my belt. When she pulled down my trousers and boxers in one yank, my cock sprang out hard, already with a bead of fluid on the tip. She looked at it for a second without touching it, then looked up at me with a half smile.

—Good thing Sandra left early —she said—. Because this is mine.

She closed her hand around it. She slid down slowly to the base, came back up, and squeezed it just under the glans until a groan slipped out of me. All with the same precision she had in everything she did.

I took her to the bed. With her lying on her back, I tore her panties at the side. The thong gave way with a dry rip. I spread her legs: long legs, stockings still on up to the thigh, and in between her shaved pussy, swollen and shining wet under the light coming through the half-open bathroom door.

I kissed the inner side of her thighs, bit where the stockings ended, and worked my way up slowly. When I reached her cunt, I first ran my tongue all the way from bottom to top, very slowly, dragging all the moisture up to her clit. She let out a sound that had nothing rehearsed about it, a deep gasp that escaped her throat without warning.

—Again —she begged.

I did it again. And again. Then I started eating her out for real: lips against me, tongue circling her clit, two fingers going in and out slowly, searching for the spot deep inside with my fingertips. She had one hand in my hair, not directing me, just squeezing when something especially pleased her. I could feel her legs trembling each time I ran the tip of my tongue over her swollen clit.

—There, there, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop…

I curled my fingers inside her and sucked her clit hard, not letting up. It took less time than I expected for her to come: a shiver starting in her thighs and climbing up, her back arching off the mattress, and a rush of wetness that filled my fingers and mouth. Her hips lifted on their own and ground against my face, and she let out a long, broken moan that I had to muffle with my free hand because I remembered Clara and Felipe were downstairs.

When it was over, she lay still for a few seconds, breathing with her mouth open, her chest marked red. Then she looked at me from below with glassy eyes and said:

—Now me.

***

She pulled me up so I’d lie beside her. She kissed my mouth without caring whether she tasted herself, and went down: neck, chest, abdomen. She didn’t do it in a rush or mechanically. When she reached my crotch, she first licked my whole cock from base to tip, tongue flat and mouth open, as if she were savoring an ice cream cone. Then she sucked my balls one by one, taking them whole into her mouth, never taking her eyes off me.

When she finally took me in, she did it slowly, letting her throat open until the tip touched the back. She pulled back out again just as slowly, lips tight around me, and at the tip she paused to run her tongue around the glans.

She was good at it. Very good. With a rhythm that wasn’t constant but deliberate, changing just when you least expected it: sometimes she’d take me all the way down, pressing her nose into my belly, and sometimes she’d stay only at the tip, sucking hard and striking the glans with her tongue. With her free hand she squeezed my balls and the base of my cock, milking me upward to gather everything in her mouth. She would lift her eyes to look at me every so often, mouth full, and that made everything even harder to bear.

—If you keep that up I’m going to come —I warned her, my voice half broken.

She didn’t stop. On the contrary, she sped up, pressed her lips harder, and locked eyes with me, asking for it. I put a hand on the back of her neck without pushing, just feeling the rhythm, and came in her mouth with a rush that shook my hips. She didn’t pull away until I was finished, swallowing every wave without blinking. When she finally let go, she stuck out her tongue to show me there was nothing left, then licked her lips very slowly.

—You’re not done yet —she said, with a smile that mixed satisfaction with something else, something that kept the blood from fully going down.

She was right. I was hard again before she had even finished the sentence.

***

She climbed on top of me. She took me in her hand, lined the tip up with the entrance to her cunt, and rubbed herself slowly up and down along the whole slit, soaking me before taking me inside. Then she lowered herself inch by inch, mouth open and eyes closed. She was so wet there was no resistance, only that feeling of the first inches that one wishes could last far longer than they do. When she had me all the way in, she went still for a second, squeezing my cock from inside her cunt as if learning how to take me.

—My God —she whispered—. How full you are.

I put my hands on her hips. She placed hers on my chest and started to move. Slowly at first, lifting and lowering herself fully, searching for the angle she liked. Then she began circling her hips, rubbing her clit against my pubic bone every time she came down. I propped myself up to kiss her tits, bite her nipple, suck it while she moved on top of me; to hear how her breathing changed depending on what I did.

She sped up. I ran my hands up her back, grabbed her hair, and pulled her head back so I could bite her neck. She moaned louder. Her hips found a point and stayed there, moving more insistently, riding me faster and faster. Her tits bounced in front of my face; I grabbed them, squeezed them, kneaded them with both hands.

—I’m going to come again —she panted—. I’m going to come, I’m going to come…

—Come on top of me. All of it.

When she came, she leaned forward and dug her fingers into my shoulders. I felt her cunt clench around my cock in waves, squeezing me from the inside out. A long moan escaped her against my neck, and I covered her mouth with my hand because she was practically screaming by then.

I used that moment, with her still trembling, to turn her without pulling out. I ended up on top. I lifted her legs and set them on my shoulders: thighs still in stockings, swollen red cunt open wide for me.

I drove in hard and she answered with a sharp gasp. I started fucking her like that, bent over, my cock going in all the way each time, and I could see perfectly how I slid in and out, how I came out shining with her juices, how each thrust dragged a little sound from her throat. The bed creaked and banged against the wall; at some point I remembered Clara and Felipe downstairs, but by then neither of us could stop.

—Harder —she begged—. More, harder, give it all to me…

I lowered one leg, turned her onto her side, lifted the top one, and kept going from that angle, deeper. Her hands traveled over my back, my hips, her nails digging into my ass to pull me tighter against her. There was no calm left in either of us. We kissed in the middle of all that, that clumsy, interrupted kind of kiss that happens when two people are too busy to focus on anything else.

I put her face down, lifted her ass, and took her from behind again. With one hand I grabbed her hip and with the other I grabbed her hair at the nape. She buried her face in the pillow and began to push back, meeting me halfway on each thrust, her ass slamming against my groin in a wet, rhythmic sound that filled the whole room.

—I’m coming —I warned her—. I’m going to come…

—Inside. Inside, don’t pull out, inside.

When I came I did it inside her, all the way, with two, three final thrusts that tore another muffled moan out of her against the pillow. I felt each release empty into her cunt while she squeezed around me and milked me. We stayed like that for a moment, not separating, my weight on her back, until our breathing found something close to a normal rhythm again. When I finally pulled out, a thread of semen escaped me and ran down her thigh to the stocking, and she let out a low, tired laugh.

—What a favor we did my sister —she murmured into the pillow.

***

We fell asleep without turning off the light.

When the room started to brighten, Valeria moved beside me. I opened my eyes. She was staring at the ceiling with a calm expression, no anxiety, none of those gestures that sometimes appear in the middle of the night when someone regrets something.

—Good morning —she said.

—Good morning.

Downstairs, someone was moving things around in the kitchen. The smell of coffee was beginning to rise up the stairs.

Valeria turned toward me. She looked at me with that directness I already knew, slid her hand under the sheet and grabbed my cock, which was already half hard just from having her beside me. She worked it slowly until it was hard again, never taking her eyes off mine.

—Again? —I asked, though I already knew the answer.

—Again. And slow, because now we’ve got time.

She got on top without saying anything else, lined herself up, and took me all the way in with one single motion, all the way to the bottom. She closed her eyes, threw her head back, and started moving very slowly, barely lifting herself, just squeezing me from inside and turning her hips.

Breakfast could wait a little longer.