My Partner’s Son Asked Me to Forgive Him at Midnight

The conversation with Noelia the day before had left my body in turmoil. That girl, not even twenty years old yet, had somehow gotten caught up in games that shamed and demeaned her, all for the boyfriend she adored. And the reason was as simple as could be: she enjoyed them. I’d seen it in the way she lowered her gaze when she told me, in the way she bit back a smile when she spoke about him.

Adrián was a magnet for women. He had that gift for wrapping them up in his rogue personality and his irreverent way of looking at life. And I myself could vouch for just how far that magnet could go, because a grown woman, sensible, self-possessed, had been able to lose her mind over him, to kneel on the sofa and grab his cock like some heat-crazed girl.

How did I even think of it.

I’d spent the entire morning cleaning the house for the umpteenth time, trying in vain not to think. But the image always came back the same: my partner’s son, naked from the waist down, panting, taking advantage of me and my trust, my hand closed around his rigid shaft. I kept rubbing the same pane over and over as if I could erase the memory with the cloth, but all I managed was to make my pussy throb harder at the thought of it.

The worst part was that, deep down, I missed what I’d lost. The midnight confessions, the closeness, that easy complicity we had before everything went wrong. Maybe it was the same thing happening to Noelia. Maybe that was why neither of us could quite let him go.

Adrián hadn’t come near me again since then. I made that very clear the first night, and for once in his life he had shown signs of understanding the seriousness of what he’d done. For those weeks he’d kept his distance, giving me the space I demanded, disappearing during the day and coming back just in time for dinner. It was for the best in a household that could blow up at any moment.

Daniel was still away on a trip, as he almost always was. The whole house weighed on me without him. And my bed even more.

***

That night, Adrián arrived late, as usual. But this time he didn’t head straight to his room or the kitchen, where he usually picked up the plate I’d left covered for him. He came into the living room and sat on the sofa, a handspan from me. I tensed the moment I felt his weight sink into the cushion. I crossed and uncrossed my legs, but I didn’t look up from the book.

—Can we talk? —he said.

I ignored him. He waited with his hands between his knees, pressing them together, awkward in a situation he wasn’t used to. The wall clock marked the seconds with a ticking that suddenly sounded enormous.

—I spoke with Noelia yesterday. —He left the sentence hanging in the air. I turned a page—. She told me I nearly caught you naked in the bathroom.

I didn’t move a muscle. Only the drip of a faucet was missing to make the silence completely unbearable.

—I had to improvise an excuse —he added at last—. Your girl is smarter than she looks.

—Yes —he answered, relieved to see a crack open—. Maybe that’s why I like her so much.

—Take care of her —I said without looking at him—. She won’t always love you the way she does now.

—Yeah. Don’t worry about that.

Silence settled between us again. Adrián cleared his throat before trying once more.

—About the other day…

—Drop it. It was my fault.

—Don’t say that.

—For consenting to such a barbarity. —I huffed—. What was I thinking?

—That you were helping me. I had a problem and you lent me a hand —he replied, obliging—. And it all turned out fine. I don’t know why you’re taking it so hard.

—No, it didn’t turn out fine. It was a fucking outrage. A complete outrage.

—Oh, come on. Over a handjob?

I closed my eyes and rubbed my forehead hard, lost in thought. I heard myself murmur to myself, almost without meaning to.

—Masturbating my partner’s son. I must be…

—Helping —he corrected gently, softening his tone—. Helping your partner’s son with a serious problem. I’m really sorry it affected you that much.

—Because you went too far. —I finally fixed my gaze on him—. You went miles too far.

—I was out of my mind. I was coming like never before…

—You put a finger in me, for fuck’s sake! —My voice broke with pure rage—. You put your fucking finger in my pussy!

—I’m sorry, okay? That’s exactly what I’m trying to tell you. I was coming with the most horny woman I know in my hands and… I lost control. What do you want me to say? Do you know what you mean to me?

—Nothing. Less than nothing. My father’s whore, who wanks you off like a stupid girl.

—No, fuck, no. You mean everything. —He rubbed his temple, searching for words he didn’t have—. Always so sure of yourself, with that imposing character that’s even a little scary, but it makes you feel safe. And I’m a horny nineteen-year-old kid. I didn’t think about the consequences.

—The consequences. Of course. You never think about the consequences.

He shifted in the seat, edging a little closer.

—I went too far. I did what I shouldn’t have —he admitted—. I thought I could get that from you, and I was wrong because I’m an idiot.

—Because you’re a shameless pig.

—Idiot and pig. Fine. I admit it.

—Do you know how you made me feel? What that day means to me?

He lowered his head. —I can imagine.

—Like a slut. —I had to swallow so the lump in my throat wouldn’t show—. Wanking off my partner’s son while he stuck his finger in my pussy. —I closed my eyes again—. But how did I let you convince me to do something like that?

And the memory hit me whole, uninvited. I saw myself again on that sofa, right here in this very spot, with Adrián collapsed beside me and his fly already open. He’d come into the living room looking wrecked, without saying hello, and sat down with his eyes fixed on the floor. “I haven’t come in three weeks, Lorena. Not alone, not with Noelia. It gets hard and then it goes soft, it gets hard and then it goes soft, and I’m going crazy.” At first I’d wanted to laugh. But he had red eyes and such a flat voice that I lost the urge. I told him to go to the doctor, that it was anxiety, that he needed to relax, that it would pass. And he said no. That he knew very well why it was going soft. And he looked at me in that way, without saying it, and I understood without wanting to understand.

“Help me. Just this once. Help me or I’ll really go crazy.”

I should have gotten up and told him to fuck off. I should have slapped him. Instead I stayed silent, and while I stayed silent he pulled down his jeans and his underwear to mid-thigh and took out his cock. I remember exactly what it was like: thick, very hard, longer than I had ever imagined, with visible veins and a swollen tip, glistening with a thick thread of pre-cum dangling all the way to his pubis. He grabbed it first. He started moving his fist up and down, slowly, breathing through his mouth, and looked at me with a plea that was anything but shy.

“Please. With your hand, just with your hand. Like you’re doing me a favor.”

And I did him the favor, fuck. I shifted on the cushion and closed my fingers around that hot cock of Daniel’s son, and the moment he felt my hand he let out a moan so filthy it made my whole body bristle. He was hard as a rock and burning. I started moving it the way he asked, going up to cover the glans with my palm and down to the root, squeezing when I reached the base, easing up when I passed over the head. He had his head thrown back, panting with his mouth open, and with every stroke of my fist he let out a “like that, like that, fuck, like that.” He got even thicker between my fingers. I could feel him throbbing, the vein on top swelling, his balls tightening against my hand every time I went down.

I should have let go. I should have let go a thousand times. But I didn’t. And he, the fucking pig, noticed.

He turned toward me on the sofa and slid a hand around my waist, searching for skin. I was wearing a thin T-shirt and no bra, and his fingers slipped under the hem and up to my breast and squeezed it whole, with the nipple trapped between his index and middle finger. My breast was hot, hard, so sensitive it nearly made me jump. A moan escaped me that I tried to swallow, but it escaped anyway. And he, hearing it, started grinding against my hand with his hips, fucking my fist like it was a cunt, fucking me faster, harder, while he pinched my nipple until it hurt.

“Lorena, fuck, Lorena, you move it so well, you make me feel so good.”

And I, the idiot, sped up. I started pumping him to the rhythm he set, feeling the fluid slide over the glans and wet my fingers, until my hand was slapping and squelching over his cock with a sticky sound that filled the living room. I could feel his wetness mix with the sweat of my palm, and at one point I ran my thumb over the tip and spread the precum all over the head, and he jerked and bit into my neck, biting without force but with hunger.

That’s where I started losing my mind. Because that’s where his other hand, the one that wasn’t holding my breast, went down to my belly. And kept going down. And slipped under the waistband of my lounge pants, without asking permission, and then under my panties, until it touched me. I clamped my thighs together on instinct, but he was already inside, his whole hand planted over my pussy, and there was no turning back. “You’re soaking, Lorena. Fuck, you’re soaking. Look at you.”

I was. I was drenched. I’d been denying it since I grabbed his cock, but I couldn’t deny it anymore. He moved his middle finger and spread my lips and found my clit the first time, as if he knew perfectly where it was, and started rubbing it in slow circles, pressing just hard enough, while I kept wanking him. The air slipped out of me. A “no, Adrián, no” slipped out of me that sounded like anything but no. He licked my earlobe and whispered, “Keep going, keep going, don’t stop, make me come, make me come and I’ll make you come.”

We stayed like that, fucking each other with our hands, panting into one another’s necks. I squeezed his cock harder and harder, pumping my fist up and down at a speed I no longer controlled, and he hammered my clit with his fingertip, slick with my own wetness, drawing circles that climbed through my belly and tightened me from the inside. The sofa creaked. His ass lifted off the cushion to drive into my hand. My hips pressed against his, looking for more pressure. And then he lowered his finger. Just a little. Just an inch. He brushed the entrance to my pussy with the tip and I, instead of closing up, instead of swatting his hand away, opened my thighs a finger wider. A fucking finger wider. That was all it took.

He pushed inside me. Slowly, sliding the tip in, and then the knuckle, and then the whole finger, until I had it buried all the way in my cunt. And there, when I had it inside, he curled the tip upward and touched me in a place I didn’t know existed, a place that made me arch my back and slam my head into the sofa and moan like a fucking whore. Adrián’s cock swelled even more in my hand, gained another centimeter, started trembling, and I understood that he was coming just when the first spurt of hot semen hit my fingers and splashed my T-shirt and reached his chest. He came in gushes, four, five, six, his mouth open against my neck, murmuring my name between growls, while he kept sliding his finger in and out of my cunt as if he couldn’t stop.

And I was so close. I was about to come too, with my hand full of my partner’s son’s semen and his finger inside me, and that’s why I shoved him away in one sudden movement. Because I realized that if I waited two more seconds I was going to come all over his hand and I’d never be able to look at myself in the mirror again.

That was the instant. That one eternal second in which my body got ahead of my head and, for one heartbeat, I didn’t want it to stop. When I realized that if I had pulled my pants all the way down and climbed on top of him, I would have let him fuck me.

—I didn’t go that far, Lorena, come on. Don’t exaggerate. I barely brushed you with the tip.

—I felt you inside me. You were pushing. It wasn’t just the tip.

—I swear it was, just the tip. I swear. —He moved a little closer—. And I regret it so much. Really.

He arched his eyebrows and made puppy-dog eyes, trying to soften me up. I didn’t know whether I was going to forgive him or smack his face. The veins in my neck were pulsing like taut cords and my pussy, to my shame, was pulsing too, wet beneath my clothes just from reliving the scene. In the end I did neither. I got up, angry, and went to the window, pushing my hair back from my temple.

I needed air.

***

Adrián came up behind me, an arm’s length away.

—Lorena, please —he whispered—. Tell me what I have to do to fix it.

I didn’t answer. I paced back and forth in front of the window like a caged tigress. I needed to think, to do it calmly, but above all I needed to be alone, and he wasn’t leaving. I inhaled sharply and let the air out slowly, expelling all my frustration through my mouth. He waited patiently, without cornering me, letting the seconds fall one after another.

—You know what’s the worst part? —he said after a while—. That with all this anxiety I still can’t break up with Noelia. Now, when I’m with her, she’s not the one on my mind. It’s you. It’s your hand on my cock and my finger in your pussy, and I come just thinking about it, but with her I don’t come. Only with you, even when you’re not there. —I thought he looked at me sidelong—. The screw-up with you is killing me and making my problem stay the same or worse. What a joke, huh?

I folded my arms, watching him from the corner of my eye, measuring how much truth there was in that confession. He kept his face contrite, the exact expression of a loser with his pride hurt. I moved my chin this way and that, reading him, still not fully trusting him. And at the same time feeling my thighs tighten beneath my skirt.

—I haven’t been able to sleep either —I admitted at last, eyes fixed on the glass.

And I swear that, reflected in the window, I saw half a smile slip out before he erased it.

He took a step and stood right behind me. He stayed there, motionless, waiting for me to get used to his presence. The moment I felt his palms on my shoulders, I turned to face him, defiant. I wasn’t going to forgive him.

But he pulled out one of his most effective tricks. He took my hands and pressed them gently between his, not letting go of that remorseful-man look.

—I fucked up —he said—. With the person who least deserved it. —He paused, measured—. And the one who’s always treated me best.

I didn’t react. I held steady, meeting the gaze of a boy used to slipping away from consequences. I ended up lifting an eyebrow.

—And that’s it? You think that fixes everything?

—N-no, of course not —he replied, confused—. But I wanted you to know. That it doesn’t let me sleep either. I spend nights tossing and turning in bed, with a hard cock remembering you, unable to come, unable to think about anything else. —Another pause—. No matter how much of a pig and an idiot I am.

A slight smile escaped me, which I immediately killed by turning my face away. I didn’t want him to see that my nipples had gone hard beneath my T-shirt.

Silence returned, but this time like a bridge between two people beginning to find common ground again.

—Come on, tell me. What do I have to do?

—You can’t, Adrián. What happened happened, and it stays there forever.

At least my tone was no longer sharp. Something had changed.

—Then tell me how we get back to being like before —he begged—. I miss the good vibe we had. The morning banter, the laughs… —He squeezed my hands with just the right amount of tenderness—. I want my best friend back.

The watery shine that rose to my eyes I hid with a quick blink, but he caught it in an instant. He’d hit the mark: the perfect line at exactly the right moment. He waited a few seconds to give what came next more weight, looked me in the eyes, and pulled the trigger straight to the chest.

—Can I give you a hug? I miss you.

I was thrown off balance. I gaped, uncertain, barely able to hold that gaze that laid bare the softest part of him.

Alone, without Daniel, starving for the close affection I hadn’t enjoyed in weeks, I accepted his arms like ripe fruit. The heat of his body wrapped around me with exactly the feeling I needed. I closed my eyes and let myself be drawn to him, surrendering to that peace I was so grateful for, the same peace that used to have me asleep in one shot every night. But when I pressed against his hip I felt something else. Something hard, rigid, pushing against my belly through the denim of his jeans. The fucking bastard was hard. And instead of pulling away, instead of slapping him, I held on for one second too long. Just one second. Enough to feel it, to recognize its shape, to remember the weight it had had in my hand.

We stayed like that a good while, as long as I allowed. When we pulled apart, I had recovered some of my composure and stepped back to put distance between us.

—This doesn’t mean I forgive you.

He smiled, resigned, and shrugged.

—I’ll settle for being your friend again.

—Sure. Friends. —A knowing smile, but one that made crystal clear the line he would never cross again.

***

We stayed for a moment looking at each other with renewed spirits, letting the emotions slow down.

—Hey —Adrián began—. I won’t be able to fix what I did, but at least I can make it up to you a little.

I lifted an eyebrow. I already knew his tricks.

—Let me take you to dinner.

I wasn’t expecting that. Adrián was a kid of books, his phone, his friends, and weekend parties. Taking someone out to dinner was grown-up stuff.

—And are you going to put on a suit to take me somewhere fancy?

—Well, let’s see… a suit, a suit… I was thinking of the burger joint in the industrial park.

I looked at him, expectant, until I realized he was serious. The laugh came out on its own and finally broke the last of the tension in the living room. Even he looked surprised, and a faint blush rose in his cheeks.

—Sorry, I couldn’t help it —I said, covering my mouth—. It’s just… so tacky. You’re apologizing by inviting me to the burger place in the industrial park, next to the discount bazaar?

—And what’s wrong with that? Hey, I’m not a millionaire. Besides, it was Noelia’s idea. Otherwise, why would I be here trying to drag you out of the house?

—Noelia? She asked you to take me to dinner?

—Of course. She adores you. And I think it’s my fault, talking about you to her so much.

I raised an eyebrow, suspicious.

—It’s true, I swear. She puts you on a pedestal. To her you’re, like… I don’t know, the heroine from those action movies who saves the world.

Another laugh I tried to muffle with my hand.

—And the hero she saves is you, I suppose?

—Okay, fine, forget it, that wasn’t my best example.

—Definitely not. What an infantile comparison.

Another silence, but different now. The atmosphere had changed completely; the banter and the complicity were slowly returning to their place.

—So, what do you say? You coming or not? A buddy works there and gets me free fries.

By then, no matter how much I covered my mouth, I couldn’t stop laughing. My eyes, nearly closed, filled with tears.

Teenagers. And me, letting myself be carried along again, with my panties still wet beneath my skirt. This isn’t going to end well, I thought. And even so, I grabbed my coat.