I Was Caught with My Best Friend’s Boyfriend

What do you mean, do I want to tell you what happened? The truth is, I don’t. But I suppose this is one of those things you don’t get to decide. Well… where do I start?

You were asking me how I feel. Bad. Uncomfortable. Right now, the last thing I remember is looking at myself in the mirror a few hours ago. My house was dark and silent at five in the morning, and some of that darkness seeped into the bathroom even though the light was on. My hair was puffed up, my curls refused to fall into any kind of order, and my dark circles had a very ugly greenish hue against the pallor of my skin. It made me feel haggard, dull, as though my life were running out.

And at the same time I felt fleshy and heavy. I’ve gained a little weight, and after my cold morning shower I spend several minutes noticing it in the reflection. My hips have gotten bigger, my breasts more troublesome every day. A few days ago, Daniela and Sofía asked me why I never wanted to take off my sweater. We were alone, and Daniela came up to me with that little red mouth of hers and her sympathetic eyes:

—You’re fucking gorgeous, Mariana —she told me.

But I don’t feel gorgeous. I don’t feel fat either, that’s not it. It’s just that I feel… excessive. I don’t know how else to put it.

The only sweaters I feel comfortable in are three my grandmother knitted for me: one blue, one black, and one gray. Today it was the gray one. Since I wash them often so I’ll always have them available, they’re wearing out, and I’m terribly embarrassed that my classmates might notice.

That was how I was, uncomfortable and dark-eyed, in my… in a class. And the professor was as usual: he smelled as usual, made his usual jokes, and got excited about his own words, or whenever someone asked a question. No, I wasn’t bored. I pretended to be and rested my head on the open notebook, feeling my own body beneath my clothes.

Last night I dreamed about him. I dreamed he offered to drive me home, that he took a shortcut that wasn’t really a shortcut. We started flirting. He gave me little winks. I got excited by my own words and ended up confessing what I felt for him. He parked in a vacant lot and we started kissing. He held my cheeks and caressed me behind the ears, then moved down to my neck. I… I… It’s not something I would do, of course. But in the dream, because it was a dream, I undid his belt and lowered his fly.

He asked me if I was of legal age. I told him the truth: yes, I had been for many months, months that had felt very long. And then he took out his cock, and it was thick, heavy, with very prominent veins and a thick drop hanging from the tip. He put it in my hand and I, clumsily, began to stroke him slowly, learning its shape. I lowered my head and took as much of it into my mouth as I could, and he held my hair while I sucked him slowly, savoring his anticipated semen on my tongue. And he did the same to me: he spread my legs in the passenger seat, pushed my underwear aside, and licked my cunt with his whole tongue, sucking my clit until I arched against the seat. He slipped in two fingers and curled them deep inside me while he sucked me, and I came in his mouth, trembling and biting my fist so I wouldn’t scream. We fucked, basically. In the dream he was hard as a tower, and the head was red as a pill. And he touched me the way you imagine a woman ought to be touched, his fingers soaked in my own juices, making perfect circles over my clitoris. You know, men can be a little clumsy with that sometimes. I mean, sorry, I don’t know; I imagine you know, but perhaps I shouldn’t take that for granted. What am I saying! Sorry, I won’t pry into your life.

He touched me so good, basically. And I was willing to let him have everything: fuck me right there in the car, put me on my knees in the grass and come on my face, whatever he wanted. But the alarm went off.

In class I couldn’t stop thinking about his kisses and his hands, and what it would feel like to have his cock split me in two. I swear that for a moment, after waking up, I thought it had been real, and I felt very happy for myself. And then very sad. Now, in class, the professor ignored me. Well, he didn’t ignore me. I know I’m his best student and that, as a teacher, he worries about me. During that hour I must have looked awful, because he gave me condescending looks and avoided asking me questions. When I left the classroom, he said, «Get some rest, Mariana, you need to take better care of yourself. It’s not all about grades.» Poor man. He had no idea I was wearing panties soaked from the previous night’s dream, sticking to my lips every time I crossed my legs.

What? No, of course not! He would never try anything with me. And I’m not going to tell you which professor it is. It’s not important. Anyway, after that class I felt fluid and dirty. I desperately wanted to stop by the bathroom and put a finger inside myself, even if only quickly, to bring down the heat; but they were all occupied.

Suddenly I found myself face-to-face with Daniela and Mateo. She had a class and was saying goodbye to her boyfriend with a long, hot kiss. She gave him two pats on the cheek and ran off. A few seconds after she left, Mateo saw me, and his eyes changed. They became hollow and deep, and began to scrutinize me all over: he looked at my lips, looked at my breasts, and it seemed as though his eyes wanted to detach themselves from his face, fly off like bats, pass over my shoulders, and look at my ass from behind. He didn’t say anything. I came closer and said very quietly, but very angrily:

—Respect your girlfriend.

I hadn’t thought about Mateo in weeks. I think about the professor all day, every day. But Mateo isn’t… he isn’t my type. And I love Daniela very much. She has always been the best friend I could have wished for.

***

What happened between Mateo and me began last month, at a party at Sofía’s house. I don’t usually go to parties, but Daniela insisted so much that I decided to make an exception. The house is big and bright, with long, narrow hallways between the rooms. Mateo had gone into one of those hallways to smoke. When I saw him, he was simply enjoying the music, closing his eyes and withdrawing into himself.

I went in there because the crowd was beginning to get on my nerves. When I saw him, the calm he radiated made me feel at ease. We started talking about anything and everything: the music, our classes, how generous Daniela was. I felt like I’d made a new friend. At some point, he asked me:

—Come on, tell me, because honestly, I can’t imagine it. What does it feel like to be so damn hot?

—Excuse me? —I replied.

My indignation at his rudeness was making me blush. I decided to take a breath. I wasn’t going to take it personally. I would answer him ironically, to humiliate him, to make him feel bad for treating me that way.

—Yes. You have a goddess’s body. What does it feel like to be so damn hot?

—Well, I’ll tell you… it’s a problem sometimes. Uneducated people think they can say the first obscenity that comes into their heads, and they ask me all kinds of idiotic questions.

—Like what?

—«What does it feel like to be so hot?» —I parodied him in a silly voice.

—And what else? —he answered without batting an eye.

I was already committed to the irony, so I continued in the same tone.

—«Aren’t your tits too heavy?», «How long have you had them like that?», «Won’t you let me touch your pussy a little?».

He burst out laughing and fell silent. I expected him to feel ridiculed, so I stayed quiet too, wanting to see what his next move would be.

—Didn’t you used to have curly hair? —he asked.

I only wanted to say yes, but I began to stammer. My hair has been causing me a lot of trouble lately.

—What product are you using? —he said as he came closer and took a curl at my temple, feeling it as if he wanted to judge how dry it was.

From feeling the curl, he moved to caressing it. From the curl he moved to my temple, and tucked my hair behind my ear. And he kissed me. I kissed him back because it felt so good to be kissed. Then I pushed him away and said:

—You’re an idiot. You have to respect Daniela. This never happened, and from now on you’re going to be the perfect boyfriend to her.

He nodded, frowning, very serious, very committed.

—I will. But… one more kiss before that? —he said.

This time I was the one who kissed him. After a few seconds he took the initiative back and pressed me against the hallway wall. As he kissed me, he stroked my hair, and that confused and embarrassed me. I was thinking about it when I felt him touch my breasts. I wanted to say something, but the kiss had me completely occupied. When we broke apart, he beat me to it:

—Now are you going to tell me you «won’t let me touch you a little»?

And he kissed me again before I could answer. He slipped his hand beneath my blouse and kneaded one breast over my bra. Three fingers slipped inside the cup and delicately pinched my nipple, passing it from his index and middle fingers to his middle and ring fingers, over and over. He twisted and stretched it until it grew hard as a stone, and I squeezed my thighs together because I could feel my cunt dripping inside my panties. With his other hand he grabbed one of my ass cheeks over my pants and squeezed hard, pulling me against his hip, and I felt his hard cock pressing against my belly through the denim. A stupid, short moan escaped me, and I covered my own mouth. I began breathing heavily, and that breathing worried me.

—Someone’s going to see us —I told him.

—That’s true. And I don’t want to share you with anyone, so we’d better leave it here.

After telling me that, he got off me and went back to the party. Minutes later I saw him kissing Daniela and wanted to kill him. But, well, I told myself that I was the one who had made the mistake of seeking him out, that it wouldn’t be honest of me to expose him to her, and that in any case it wouldn’t happen again.

***

I thought that until I saw him in the hallway that day: his deep eyes were exactly what I needed at that moment, and I didn’t know it. Mateo nodded to me and started walking upstairs. I followed him. As we crossed the classroom hallways, the groups grew smaller and smaller.

I don’t know how he knew that no one would be in 207 of Building B at that hour. He slipped inside as if it were nothing, and I had to turn my head to make sure no one saw us enter. It was the only classroom that still had a lock. All the others had been removed at the beginning of the previous year. Once I was inside, he closed the door.

It seemed we were continuing exactly where we had left off at the party. He came closer and I backed toward the wall as if I were afraid of him. When, at last, I was trapped between him and the cold brick, varnished crimson, he caressed my hair again, but this time urgently. He took me by the nape and brought me to his lips. As I already told you, I was melting that day anyway, and that kiss was like a glass of cold water someone had thrown into my lap.

He took off my sweater. Underneath I was wearing a long-sleeved blouse with a very high collar. He pulled it up to my collarbones and began kissing my breasts over my bra. Sometimes he kissed me, sometimes he lowered the cup. At one point my nipple popped over the top and he caught it between his lips and licked it forcefully, from top to bottom. Then in circles, slowly at first and then faster and faster. Afterward he took the whole thing into his mouth, sucking it like a hungry baby, and I felt his teeth scrape very gently around my nipple, which made me squeeze my legs together and bite my lip. While doing all that, he held me tightly with one arm, as though he wanted to pull me closer and closer, which was already impossible. With the other hand he yanked my bra open and both tits spilled out toward him. He pulled away for only a second to look at them, and I saw him swallow.

—Holy shit, Mariana —he whispered—. They’re fucking incredible.

And he buried his face between them again, sucking one and kneading the other, pinching my nipples until they were red and swollen. Meanwhile, I felt my panties growing wetter and wetter, the fabric sticking to the lips of my cunt, my clitoris throbbing for attention.

After doing that to my left breast, he did it to the right. Well… do you think you could open the window? I’m a little hot.

Thank you.

Would you believe me if I told you I don’t know when he took off my pants? Maybe I took them off myself. I don’t know. I only know that he knelt in front of me and began kissing my underwear. He smelled me through the fabric, burying his nose between my lips over my panties, and I felt his hot breath penetrate them and make me melt even more.

—Just my thighs. No… there.

And at least at first, he obeyed me. He sat me on one of the desks and spread my legs. He began kissing the insides of my thighs, higher and higher, closer and closer. I couldn’t help leaking a little, spreading myself open, and the smell of my own sex reached my nose, mixed with the smell of the old classroom and the brick.

—I’ll remember how you smell —he told me.

I tried to slap him for that obscenity, but he moved away in time. Then, taking advantage of the fact that I had thrown my hand into the air, he caught me by the wrist and, without taking his eyes off mine, pulled my panties aside with his other hand and licked my cunt from bottom to top, long and slow, with his broad, flat tongue. A hoarse moan escaped me, a sound I had never moaned in my life.

—I told you no! —I whispered, my voice trembling.

—Tell me to stop and I’ll stop.

I said nothing. I stared at him with my mouth open and my legs trembling, and he smiled and lowered his head again. He tore off my panties, spread my lips with two fingers, and sucked my clitoris between his own, slowly, as if he were sucking a cock. I had to bite the back of my hand to keep from screaming. He licked me in circles, changed his rhythm, stopped just when I felt I was about to come, and started again. He pushed his tongue as deep as he could, buried it inside me, and moved it as if he were fucking me with it, while his thumb kept rubbing my clitoris. I gripped the edge of the desk with both hands, arched my back, shook. When he slipped in two fingers and curled the tips upward, searching for that spot I barely knew I had, I came all at once, crushing his face between my thighs, trembling all over, moaning as quietly as I could, my teeth sunk into my own wrist.

When he lifted his face, it was shining up to his nose, my juices running down his chin. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and smiled.

—You taste fucking delicious, you bitch.

—Shut up —I told him, still trembling.

He stood up and unbuttoned his pants. When he pulled it out, I was surprised it looked like that. I touched it immediately. Although it was very, very firm, the foreskin still covered part of the tip. When I pulled it back, I saw that the glans wasn’t like I had imagined. It was like an enormous red pill, brilliantly shiny even in the darkness of the classroom. By then it was already completely coated in an oily fluid with a salty smell. I thought he wanted me to… you know. To jerk him off, basically. And I did. I closed my hand around the shaft and began pumping him, slowly at first, feeling it pulse in my palm, feeling the skin slide over the hardness inside. The tip grew shinier, redder, thicker. Without thinking much, I leaned forward and ran my tongue over the glans, collecting the thick drop hanging from it. It tasted salty, a little bitter. I closed my eyes and took it into my mouth, the head first, then as much as would fit. He grabbed the back of my neck with both hands and began moving my head at the pace he wanted. I let him. I gagged, my eyes watered, drool ran from the corner of my mouth, but I kept sucking him, moving up and down, squeezing my lips around the shaft, running my tongue underneath it every time I came up.

—You don’t have to keep going —he told me, almost panting, pulling my head away—. I think we’re beyond that now. If you keep going, I’m going to come in your mouth and I don’t want to.

And, well, that’s almost everything. He took his… his tool. And rubbed it against me a little. I was already sitting on the desk with my legs spread, so he simply moved closer and passed the middle part between them. The shaft? Yes, that. He ran it down there, sliding it between my cunt’s wet lips, smearing the head with my juices. Every time the tip passed over my clitoris, a spasm escaped me and I squeezed him with my legs. Then he pretended he was going to put it in: he placed the tip at the entrance and rubbed it there for a while.

Yes. That happened. And, well… then we heard keys at the door and… Well. Yes. No. The truth is, something else happened. The truth is, he did put it inside me.

—Put it in me, but only a little —I told him. And he seemed fine with that.

And yes, he started with the tip, nothing more. He pushed it in and pulled it out. And it was like at the party, when I saw him in the hallway. I felt him enter me and at last I began to feel calm. I could feel my body… and I liked it. I closed my eyes and surrendered to the sensation. In, out. Just the first inch. I squeezed my cunt around the tip and he moaned softly against my neck. In, out. In… and I thought: «It feels a little thicker… is it getting bigger, or is he putting more of it in?». I don’t know how it feels for you… honestly, I think I only feel right at the entrance and then all the way at the back.

In, out. In… and suddenly I felt something at the back, a hard obstruction, a sharp impact inside me that traveled all the way up my spine. I opened my eyes wide and saw that, without my realizing it, he had put the whole thing inside me. I felt his hair against mine, his heavy balls crushed against my ass.

—Take it out, you asshole! —I shouted in a whisper.

And he began pulling it out. But when I saw it coming out… I don’t know how to say it. On the one hand, watching it come out of me so long, shining all the way to the root with my own juice, white sticky threads hanging between the shaft and my lips… thinking that he had put all of that inside me… made me want it. And while he was pulling out, I once again felt excessive, uncomfortable, my cunt empty and begging to be filled again. I caught him by the buttocks with my calves and made him shove it into me hard.

—You feel so fucking good, Mariana! —he groaned in my ear—. You’re so tight, you bitch, you’re milking me.

—You’re an idiot, Mateo —I answered, my teeth sunk into his shoulder.

And he started pounding me with everything he had. The desk began squeaking against the floor with every thrust, and I had to grip the edge with both hands so I wouldn’t go flying. He drove it all the way in and pulled almost all the way out, then rammed it back in until it struck the obstruction inside. Every time he buried himself in me, a stupid sound escaped my throat, a muffled «uh» that he silenced by covering my mouth with his open palm.

—Shut up, shut up, they’ll hear us —he said, laughing, and kept thrusting faster.

He grabbed me by the hips and dragged me to the very edge of the desk, and from there he rammed me like an animal, watching my tits bounce with every blow. I felt as though he were opening me up inside, as though he were going to split me in two, and at the same time I never wanted him to stop. He lifted me off the desk, turned me around, bent me over the cold surface, my cheek pressed against the wood, my ass stuck up, and drove into me from behind with a single thrust. From there he went deeper. I bit the sleeve of the sweater lying on the desk so I wouldn’t scream. He grabbed my hips and my hair, slapped one ass cheek and left my skin burning, and kept driving into me, wet and loud, splashing between my thighs.

—Come again, come with me inside you —he growled against my ear.

And I came, squeezing his cock with my cunt until I felt it get stuck inside me, and I remained trembling beneath him, my knees weak, my face pressed against the desk.

I think that was the problem. I think that was what you heard. And then we really did hear the keys in the door. He instinctively pulled it out just in time, and I felt it sliding out with a wet sound, leaving my cunt empty and throbbing. I saw her as soon as she came in. I pretended I hadn’t seen her because I wanted to finish. I’m sorry about that. I’m sorry you had to see us like that, with my torn panties on the floor and my nipples exposed. And I’m sorry that now you have to talk to me about this.

I swear this doesn’t mean anything. No one has to know. I’m still a good student, and I’m already of legal age. So is he. And it won’t happen again. Besides, he didn’t come inside me, so everything’s fine… right?