The Night I Gave Myself to My Best Friend’s Boyfriend

My name is Renata, and this happened a little over a year ago, when I was still convincing myself that things with my husband could be fixed. I’m twenty-seven, slim, fair-skinned, with brown hair that I almost never bother to brush. I’m married to a thirty-four-year-old man whom I stopped desiring without realizing exactly when it happened. It wasn’t a fight or a betrayal; it was something slower and sadder, a steady drip of nights when we each stared at our phones with our backs turned to the other until silence became a habit.

To give you some context: we had gone three months without touching each other. The only thing left between us was that every now and then, before going to sleep, he would grab his cock and jerk himself off in the darkness, almost out of habit, feeling it grow between my fingers without giving me anything in return, without a hand on my pussy, without a mouth on my tits, nothing. The truth was, I didn’t let him, either. But when I was alone, I read things online, stories where guys with enormous cocks fucked married women bareback, and I would slip two fingers inside myself imagining I was the woman in the story, biting the pillow so I wouldn’t moan too loudly. A couple of times he caught me with my hand between my legs, and so he wouldn’t ask too many questions, I would quietly repeat what I’d read while jerking his cock: how that woman let two men fuck her, how she swallowed their cum, how she begged for more. He came incredibly fast, coating my hand, and fell asleep immediately. I was left with my swollen pussy and my desire intact, finishing myself off with my fingers until I came silently against the sheets.

That night I went clubbing with my friends. My husband had gone out with his, so there was nothing to keep watch over. We went to a place that had just opened near downtown, one of those clubs with purple lights and music so loud you had to shout into someone’s ear for them to hear you. We drank, danced, and talked complete nonsense. Several guys came over to offer us drinks, and none of us accepted.

At some point the conversation turned heavy, the kind that only happens between women with several drinks in them. Carla, one of my friends, shamelessly announced that her boyfriend had a huge cock and that they fucked without condoms because she loved feeling him that way. I was dying of envy. When I admitted I’d gone three months without sex, they all laughed.

“Grab anyone in the club,” Carla told me, elbowing me. “Nobody’s going to say anything.”

“It’s just that none of them catch my eye,” I replied, and it was true.

What I didn’t tell her was that I couldn’t get her boyfriend out of my head—what he would be like in bed, what it would be like to have that cock she bragged about buried all the way inside me. I’d seen him in pictures, at some party or another, always from a distance. And that night, as if I’d summoned him, he appeared.

His name was Diego. He was nearly six foot two, dark-skinned, with arms that showed even beneath his shirt and a deep voice that cut through the music. He was with a friend. From the moment he walked through the door, I couldn’t stop looking at him, and he noticed immediately. He held my gaze every time I thought I was being discreet—which I wasn’t.

Either he’s the biggest fucker of them all or he’s gay, and tonight I’m going to find out.

I don’t know whether Carla noticed or was simply too happy to pay attention. By then I didn’t care anymore. When the atmosphere heated up and we were all singing along to whatever the DJ put on, I managed to dance pressed against her, with Diego right behind us. And then I did something even I didn’t expect.

I kissed her. On the mouth, right in front of him. I slipped my tongue into my best friend’s mouth while glancing at Diego, and I felt Carla go stiff at first, then kiss me back, laughing against my lips. Behind me, Diego pressed himself against me, and in the contact I felt something hard grinding into my ass through my pants. It wasn’t a belt. It was him, already hard, measuring me without saying a word.

Carla pulled away and burst out laughing, amused, without fully understanding. But Diego understood. He looked at me as if he’d already stripped me naked, and I answered with a smirk that left no room for doubt.

***

I don’t remember whose idea it was to go to the motel with a pool. The four of us were outside the club, waiting for the cold air of dawn to clear our heads: Diego, Carla, his friend—whose name was Andrés—and me. Andrés had been flirting with me for a while on the way there, and he was handsome, so I thought maybe I could get Carla properly drunk and keep both men for myself. The idea of having two cocks all to myself that morning turned me on more than I should admit; my pussy clenched just thinking about it.

I called my husband and told him I was going to sleep at Carla’s house, something I’d done before without him objecting. He answered, half-asleep, that he was still at a friend’s house and that I shouldn’t worry. I hung up with a strange calm, as if I’d already made a decision far bigger than simply not going home to sleep.

The suite had a small pool and a steaming Jacuzzi in the center. As soon as I walked in, I took off my skirt and blouse without thinking, was left in my underwear, and jumped into the water. My bra clung to my tits, my nipples standing hard against the wet fabric. The two of them watched me from the edge with that hungry look I needed to see. We kept drinking, now all of us inside the Jacuzzi, our legs tangled beneath the hot water. I felt a hand—I didn’t know whose—sliding up my thigh beneath the water, brushing the edge of my panties, and I didn’t push it away.

I started making out with Andrés while Carla and Diego watched us. Andrés slipped his hand inside my bra and squeezed one of my tits underwater, pinching it, and I opened my legs beneath the Jacuzzi without realizing it. I think that turned them on, because shortly afterward Carla sat in Diego’s lap and rubbed herself against him, moaning, and the two of them disappeared into one of the bedrooms without saying a word. Andrés and I were left alone, kissing amid the steam, his hand already inside my panties, one finger slowly sliding in and out of my wet pussy. But something about him didn’t quite appeal to me. What I wanted was on the other side of that door, listening to Carla shriek louder and louder, rougher and rougher.

I suggested playing pool to buy some time. I was still in my underwear, soaked, droplets running down my back as I leaned over the table pretending I cared about the game, knowing my wet panties clung to my ass and wedged themselves between my cheeks. Andrés grew drunker by the minute, missing every shot and laughing at his own mistakes. I only listened to the muffled sounds coming from the other room—the rhythmic thudding of the bed against the wall, Carla moaning for more, harder, deeper—and wondered how long it would be before the door opened. I touched myself discreetly through my panties, squeezing my thighs together, imagining I was the one in there with Diego on top of me.

At some point Andrés locked himself in the bathroom and never came back out. I was left alone in the Jacuzzi, floating between exhaustion and alcohol, watching the sky begin to lighten through the window. One part of me thought about calling a taxi and going home. The other part, the one in control that night, stayed there waiting, my pussy throbbing beneath the water.

***

It must have been five in the morning when the bedroom door opened and Diego came out. He found me half-asleep in the water, my hair stuck to my face.

“Careful, don’t go drowning on me,” he said, chuckling softly.

He held out his hand and helped me out. The cold instantly raised goosebumps across my wet skin. My nipples turned hard as rocks against my bra, and he made no attempt to hide his stare.

“Thanks,” I murmured. “I’m going to shower and take this off. I want to sleep for a while.”

He followed me to the other room and looked for a towel in the closet. I stepped into the shower and let the hot water fall over me. I took off my soaked bra and panties, tossed them onto the floor, and ran a hand over my pussy to wash the chlorine away. A soft moan escaped me. And then, with the steam rising over my body, I realized I didn’t want to sleep at all anymore.

He came in to leave me the towel and stood there for a second, watching me naked through the fogged glass. I grabbed his hand before he could leave.

“Don’t you want to fuck your girlfriend’s best friend?” I blurted out, without a shred of shame.

He didn’t answer. He took off his clothes slowly, never looking away from me, and when he lowered his boxers, I understood why Carla bragged so much. His cock sprang free, thick and long, still only half-hard—and already frightening me. He stepped into the shower with me and pressed me against the tiles. We kissed beneath the stream, his huge body covering mine, while he grabbed my tits with one hand and spread my legs with the other. He pushed two fingers inside me at once, and I cried out against his mouth. He pulled them out dripping, brought them to his lips, and sucked them while staring at me.

“You’re soaked, you slut,” he said in my ear, biting my earlobe.

I gripped his cock with both hands. It wouldn’t fit in one. I began jerking him slowly, feeling him grow harder, thicker, feeling his skin tighten and the tip turn purple. I knelt on the tiles and put him in my mouth. I couldn’t take him all the way; he reached my throat and made me gag, strings of saliva running down my chin, but I kept trying, sucking his balls, licking him from base to tip, wet, lost, thinking of nothing but that cock. He grabbed the back of my head with both hands and began moving my head to his rhythm, fucking my mouth, driving into my throat until my eyes filled with tears. I let him do it. I loved letting him do it.

“Let’s go to bed,” I told him after a while, my voice hoarse and my throat burning. “We’ll be more comfortable there.”

He followed me. We didn’t even dry off. Still dripping wet, I threw myself onto the mattress and he climbed on top of me, knocking my legs apart with one hand. He stared at my open, swollen pussy, then lowered his head. He licked my lips, slid his tongue inside, and gently bit my clitoris until I arched and pressed his head against me. He made me come with his tongue, twisting me around and muffling himself between my thighs. It was the first orgasm of the night, and he still hadn’t put his cock inside me.

Afterward I climbed on top of him, grabbed his cock, and positioned it at the entrance to my pussy, moving slowly and feeling it enter inch by inch. My walls opened little by little. It burned, and it was a burn I wanted to feel all the way inside.

“We should get condoms,” he panted.

“Put it in me like this,” I replied. “Bareback. You can buy me the morning-after pill tomorrow.”

I was so wet that he slid in by himself, all the way to the base. I felt his balls slap against my ass and stayed still for a second, trembling as I tried to adjust to his size. He began moving beneath me with a force that knocked the air from my lungs, gripping my hips and pulling me down onto him, impaling me again and again. Our wet bodies collided with the sound of soaked flesh filling the room. He sucked my tits while he pounded me, bit my nipples, and squeezed my neck with one hand. I held onto his chest, moaning things I didn’t even remember saying—insults, pleas, obscenities that came out on their own.

“That’s it, Daddy, just like that, don’t stop, fuck me,” I told him, riding him and squeezing his cock with my pussy every time he was inside me. “Break me, break my pussy.”

He shoved me off him and put me on all fours on the bed, gripping my hair. He spanked me once, the smack echoing through the room, then again, harder. Then he drove all the way inside me in a single thrust, slowly but to the hilt, making me feel every vein, every inch of him forcing its way in.

“You’re bigger than my husband,” I confessed, my cheek pressed against the mattress. “It took me more than a year to let him fuck me without a condom. And you’re fucking me bareback on the first try.”

Something inside him ignited when I said that. He began pounding me hard and without mercy, gripping my hips with both hands and driving his cock all the way in with every thrust. He leaned over my back and spoke right against my ear, panting, calling me things that would have offended me in any other situation but that turned me on like never before: slut, whore, cock slut, unfaithful wife. Every word made my pussy squeeze around him.

“Does your husband come inside you?” he asked, gripping my hips and impaling me against his cock.

“No,” I answered breathlessly, barely able to speak. “He’s not allowed to.”

Diego let out the laugh of a satisfied man, as if he’d just won something. He pushed a wet thumb into my ass while continuing to fuck my pussy, and I opened myself wider, letting him do everything. He fucked me even harder, whispering in my ear that he would, that he was going to fill my pussy like no one else, that he was going to leave me dripping with his cum while my idiot husband slept at a friend’s house. We stayed like that on all fours for quite a while, until my knees no longer held me up and my legs trembled on their own. I tried to change positions, but he wouldn’t let me. He pressed the back of my neck against the mattress and told me to behave like what I was being that night, to hold still there like the slut I was, and instead of bothering me, it dragged me even deeper into it. I felt my second orgasm hit suddenly, in waves, drowning me against the sheet.

I came three times in a row, and he didn’t stop. Each orgasm left me wetter, and he kept pounding me through that puddle, splashing inside me. I felt the rhythm speeding up toward the end, his ragged breathing against my nape, his cock swelling even more inside me.

“Do it, Daddy,” I begged, pushing my ass backward to take all of him. “Inside. Fill me. Come inside me, don’t pull out.”

He came with a long groan, driving into me to the hilt and emptying himself inside me in hot spurts that I felt reach all the way into my belly. I kept moving my hips slowly, milking him, squeezing his cock with the muscles of my pussy, feeling him overflow and run down my thighs. I didn’t pull away. I didn’t want him to come out. We stayed like that for another couple of minutes, his cock slowly softening inside me, and suddenly it grew hard again without ever leaving me. He got on top, turned me onto my back, spread my legs, and pushed into me again, already coated in his own cum. He fucked me slowly, looking into my eyes, until he came a second time and collapsed beside me.

I stayed on my knees on the mattress for a moment, feeling the air and heat and his semen escaping between my legs, running down to my knees. Then I lowered myself and grabbed his cock again, soft and sticky, gleaming with both his fluids and mine, and put it in my mouth. I cleaned it completely with my tongue, sucking up every drop and swallowing it all—something I had never done for my husband, something that had never even occurred to me until that morning. He let me do it silently, one hand in my hair, looking at me the way one looks at something that has already been used. When I finished, he no longer wanted to kiss me. He stood up, got dressed, and left the room without a word.

I was left alone, naked on the tangled sheets, my pussy still throbbing and dripping what he had left inside me. I thought about Carla sleeping on the other side of the wall, about my husband at his friend’s house, about the pill I would have to buy the next day. And still I didn’t move. I didn’t want to shower, didn’t want to erase anything, didn’t want to wash his semen from my body yet. I closed my eyes and fell asleep exactly as I was, legs spread and the stain growing beneath my hip, while the morning sun began to seep through the curtain.