They Caught Me with My Best Friend’s Boyfriend

What do you mean, if I want to tell you what happened? The truth is, I don’t. But I guess this is one of those things you don’t really get to decide about. Well… where do I even 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 with the light on. My hair was puffed out, my curls refusing to settle into any kind of order, and the bags under my eyes had this ugly greenish color against the paleness of my skin. It made me feel worn out, faded, like my life was 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 mirror. 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 she has and her sympathetic eyes:

—You’re hot as hell, Mariana —she told me.

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

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

That’s how I was, uncomfortable and with dark circles under my eyes, in my class of… in a class. And the professor was as always: smelled as always, made his usual jokes, and got excited by his own words, or whenever someone asked a question. No, I wasn’t bored. I was pretending to be and resting my head on the open notebook, feeling my own body under my clothes.

Yesterday 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 carried away by my own words and ended up confessing what I feel for him. He parked in a vacant lot and we started kissing. He held my cheeks and rubbed affectionately behind my ears, then went down to my neck. I… him… It’s not something I would do, of course. But in the dream, because it was a dream, I loosened his belt and lowered his zipper.

He asked me if I was of age. I told him the truth: yes, for many months, months that felt very long. And then he pulled out his cock, and it was thick, heavy, with the veins standing out and a thick drop hanging from the tip. He put it in my hand and I, clumsy, started stroking it slowly, learning its shape. I lowered my head and took it in my mouth, as much as would fit, and he held me by the hair while I sucked him slowly, tasting his impending cum on my tongue. And he did that to me too: he spread my legs in the passenger seat, pushed aside my underwear, and licked my pussy with his whole tongue, sucking my clit until I arched against the seat. He put two fingers in 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 were fucking, basically. In the dream he was erect like a tower, and the tip was red like a pill. And he touched me the way you imagine a man should touch you, with his fingers soaked in my own juice, making exact circles over my clit. You know men are a little clumsy with that sometimes. I mean, sorry, I don’t know; I imagine you know, but maybe I shouldn’t take that for granted. What am I saying! Sorry, I don’t mean to get into your life.

He touched me so good, basically. And I was willing to give him anything: to fuck me right there in the car, to make me kneel in the grass and finish on my face, whatever he wanted. But then the alarm went off.

In class I couldn’t stop thinking about his kisses and his hands, and about what it would feel like for his cock to split me in two. I swear that for a moment, after waking up, I thought it had been real, and I felt so 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 professor, he worries about me. During that hour I must have looked terrible, because he gave me these condescending eyes and avoided asking me anything. When I left the classroom, he said, “Rest, Mariana, you need to take better care of yourself, not everything is about grades.” Poor man. He has no idea I’d soaked my panties with the dream from the night before, 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 wet and dirty. I desperately wanted to get to the bathroom to shove a finger in, even if it was quick, just to bring the heat down; but everyone was occupied.

Suddenly I found myself face to face with Daniela and Mateo. She had class and was saying goodbye to her boyfriend with a long, hot kiss. She patted him twice on the cheek and ran off. A few seconds after she left, Mateo saw me, and his eyes changed. They went hollow and deep, and started scanning me whole: he looked at my lips, he looked at my chest, and it was as if his eyes wanted to peel off his face, fly out like bats, sweep over my shoulders, and see my ass from behind. He didn’t say anything. I walked up to him 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’s not my type. And I love Daniela very much. She has always been the best friend I could have wished for.

***

What happened with Mateo started last month, at a party at Sofía’s house. I don’t usually go to parties, but Daniela insisted a lot and 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 already just enjoying the music, eyes closed and shut away inside himself.

I went in there because I was starting to feel crowded. When I saw him, the calm he gave off made me feel calm too. We started talking about anything: the music, 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 even imagine it. What does it feel like to be so hot?

—Excuse me? —I answered.

The outrage at his rudeness was making me blush. I decided to take a breath. I wasn’t going to take it personally. I’d answer with irony, to humiliate him, to make him feel bad for talking to me like that.

—Yeah. You’ve got a goddess body. What does it feel like to be that hot?

—Well, I’ll tell you… it’s a problem sometimes. People with no manners think they can say the first obscene thing that comes to mind, and they ask me all kinds of stupid questions.

—Like what?

—“What does it feel like to be so hot?” —I parodied him, making a dumb voice.

—And what else? —he shot back, completely unfazed.

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

—“Don’t your tits get heavy?”, “How long have you had them like that?”, “Don’t you let people touch your pussy a little?”

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

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

I just wanted to tell him yes, but I started stammering. 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 from my temple, feeling it as if he wanted to judge how dry it was.

From touching the curl, he went to stroking it. From the curl he went to my temple, and tucked my hair behind my ear. And he kissed me. I kissed him back because being kissed felt so good. Then I pulled away, shoved him, and told him:

—You’re an asshole. You have to respect Daniela. This didn’t happen, 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 told me.

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

—Now are you going to tell me that “you don’t let anyone touch you a little”?

And he kissed me again before I could answer. He slipped his hand under my blouse and kneaded one breast over my bra. Three fingers slid inside the cup and pinched my nipple delicately, moving it from index and middle finger to middle and ring finger, over and over. He twisted and stretched it until it got hard as a stone, and I clenched my thighs because I could feel my pussy dripping inside my panties. With his other hand he grabbed one ass cheek 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 started breathing heavily, and that breathing worried me.

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

—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 I’d been the one to go looking for him, that it wouldn’t be honest of me to report him to her, and that in any case it wouldn’t happen again.

***

I thought that until I saw him that day in the hallway: his deep eyes were exactly what I needed in that moment, and I didn’t know it. Mateo tipped his head at me and started walking up the stairs. I followed him. As we crossed the classroom corridors, the groups thinned out more and more.

I don’t know how he knew there wouldn’t be anyone in 207 of building B at that hour. He went in as if 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. They’d taken all the others off at the beginning of the previous year. When I walked in, he closed the door.

It felt like we were picking up exactly where we’d left off at the party. He kept coming closer and I kept backing toward the wall, as if I were afraid of him. When, at last, I was caught between him and the cold brick, varnished in crimson, he stroked my hair again, but this time urgently. He took me by the nape and brought me to his lips. As I already told you, that day I was melting anyway, and that kiss was like a glass of cold water someone had thrown into my lap.

He took off my sweater. Under it I was wearing a long-sleeved blouse with a very high collar. He lifted it up to my collarbones and started kissing my breasts over my bra. A little kissing and a little sliding the cup down. At some point, my nipple popped out over the top and he caught it between his lips and licked it hard, from top to bottom. Then in circles, first slowly and then at full speed. After that he took it whole into his mouth, sucking it like a hungry baby, and I felt his teeth graze me very softly around the nipple, which made me clamp my legs together and bite my lip. While he did all that, one arm held me tightly, as if he wanted to pull me closer and closer, which was already impossible. With the other hand he tore off my bra in one tug and both tits fell onto him. He pulled back just long enough to look at them, and I saw him swallow.

—Holy shit, Mariana —he whispered—. They’re to die for.

And he plunged his face back between them, sucking one and kneading the other, pinching my nipples until they were red and swollen. Meanwhile I could feel my panties growing wetter and wetter, the fabric sticking to the lips of my pussy, my clit throbbing for attention.

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

Thanks.

Would you believe me if I told you I don’t know at what point 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 started kissing my underwear. He smelled me through the fabric, burying his nose between my lips over my panties, and I could feel his hot breath passing through me and making me melt even more.

—Just the thighs. No… there.

And, at least on that, he listened to me at first. He sat me on one of the tables and spread my legs. He started kissing the inside of my thighs, higher and higher each time, closer and closer. I couldn’t help leaking a little, spreading out, and the smell of my own sex came up to my nose, mixed with the smell of the old classroom and the brick.

—I’m going to remember how you smell —he told me.

I tried to slap him for that obscenity, but he moved in time. And then, taking advantage of the fact that I’d thrown my hand into the air, he grabbed my wrist and, without breaking eye contact, used his other hand to pull my panties aside and lick my pussy from bottom to top, long, slow, with his tongue wide and flat. A hoarse moan escaped me that I had never made in my life.

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

—Tell me to stop and I’ll stop.

I didn’t say anything. I just stared at him, mouth open and legs trembling, and he smiled and lowered his head again. He tore my panties off in one yank, spread my lips with two fingers, and sucked my clit between his own, drawing slowly, like he was sucking me off. I had to bite the back of my hand not to scream. He licked me in circles, changed rhythm, stopped exactly when I felt I was about to come, and started again. He pushed his tongue in as far as he could, drove it all the way in, moving it as if he were fucking me with it, while his thumb kept rubbing my clit. I gripped the edge of the table with both hands, arched my back, shook. When he slid two fingers in and curled the tips upward, searching for that spot I barely even knew I had, I came all at once, crushing his face with my thighs, trembling all over, moaning as low as I could, my teeth dug into my own wrist.

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

—You taste delicious, bitch.

—Shut up —I told him, still trembling.

He stood up and undid his pants. When he took it out, I was surprised by how it looked. I touched it right away. Even though it was very, very hard, the foreskin still covered part of the tip. When I pulled it back, I could see the glans wasn’t like I had imagined. It was like a huge red pill, shining even in the darkness of the room. By then it was completely coated in an oily liquid that smelled salty. I thought he wanted me to… you know. To jerk him off, basically. And I jerked him off. I closed my hand around the shaft and started stroking him, slow at first, feeling him throb in my palm, feeling the skin glide over the hardness underneath. The tip got shinier, redder, thicker. Without thinking too much, I leaned forward and ran my tongue over the glans, catching the thick drop hanging from it. It tasted salty, a little bitter. I closed my eyes and took it into my mouth, first the head, then as much as would fit. He grabbed my nape with both hands and started moving my head at the pace he wanted. I let him. I was choking, my eyes were watering, saliva was dribbling from the corner of my mouth, but I kept sucking him, going up and down, pressing my lips around the shaft, running my tongue underneath every time I came up.

—You don’t need to keep going —he told me, almost panting, pulling my head back—. I think we’re past that already. If you keep going I’m going to cum 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 table, legs open, so he just came closer and ran the middle part over me. The shaft? Yes, that. He rubbed it down there, sliding it between my soaked pussy lips, smearing the glans with my juices. Every time the tip passed over my clit, a spasm escaped me and I pressed myself to him with my legs. And then he acted like he was going to put it in: he set the tip at my entrance and rubbed there for a while.

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

—Put it in me, but just a little —I told him. And he thought that was fine.

And yes, he started with just the tip. In and out. And it was just like at the party, when I saw him in the hallway. I felt him inside me and I finally started to feel calm. I could feel my body… and I liked it. I closed my eyes and gave myself over to what I was feeling. In, out. The first inch, only. I clenched my pussy around the tip and he moaned softly in my neck. In, out. In… and I told myself: “It feels a little thicker now… is it getting bigger, or is he pushing more in?”. I don’t know how it feels for you… honestly I think I only feel it 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 stop, a sharp knock inside me that went all the way up my spine. I opened my eyes wide and saw that, without me noticing, he had put it all the way in. I felt his hair against mine, his heavy balls smashed against my ass.

—Pull it out, asshole! —I yelled, whispering.

And he started pulling it out. But when I saw it coming out… I don’t know how to say it. On one hand, seeing it so long come out of me, shining all the way to the base with my own juice, sticky white threads hanging between the shaft and my lips… thinking he’d put all of that in me… made me want it. And, as he was pulling out, I felt excessive again, uncomfortable, with my empty pussy begging to be filled again. I grabbed him by the butt cheeks with my calves and made him shove it back in hard.

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

—You’re an asshole, Mateo —I answered, my teeth dug into his shoulder.

And he started going at me full force. The table started squeaking against the floor with every thrust, and I had to grip the edge with both hands so I wouldn’t fly off. He shoved it in to the hilt and pulled almost all the way out, then slammed it back in until he hit the stop inside me. Every time he buried himself in me, a stupid sound slipped out of my throat, a crushed “uh” that he silenced by covering my mouth with his open palm.

—Shut up, shut up, they’re going to hear us —he said, laughing, and kept fucking me faster.

He grabbed my hips and dragged me to the very edge of the table, and from there he rammed into me like an animal, watching my tits bounce with every удар. I felt like he was opening me up from the inside, like he was going to split me in half, and at the same time I didn’t want him to stop ever. He lifted me off the table, turned me over, bent me against the cold surface, cheek pressed to the wood, ass raised, and slammed into me from behind in one single thrust. From there he went deeper. I bit the sweater sleeve lying on the table so I wouldn’t scream. He grabbed my hips, my hair, slapped my ass so hard the skin burned, and kept driving into me, wet, loud, splashing between my thighs.

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

And I came, squeezing his cock with my pussy until I felt it catch inside, and I lay trembling under him, knees weak, face pressed to the table.

I think that was the problem. I think that was what you heard. And then yes, we heard the keys at the door. He had the reflex to pull out just in time and I felt it coming out with a wet sound, leaving my pussy empty and throbbing. I saw him the moment she walked in. I pretended I hadn’t seen her because I wanted to finish. Sorry about that. I’m sorry you had to see us like that, with the panties torn on the floor and our nipples out. And I’m sorry you now have to talk to me about this.

I swear this doesn’t mean anything. Nobody has to know. I’m still a good student, and I’m already of age. He is too. And it’s not going to happen again. Besides, he didn’t finish inside me, so everything’s fine… right?