Confession: My Friend Asked Me to Sleep with Him

It all started one afternoon when Lucía asked me to join her for coffee because she needed to tell me something «without my judging her». We were both over thirty, had known each other for a long time, and I knew how to tell when she was genuinely sad. That time she arrived with swollen eyes, her phone clutched between her hands, and an anxiety that seemed too big for her body.

—Tell me what happened —I asked.

Lucía took a deep breath, looked toward the window, and let out a sentence that left me frozen.

—Damián wants to sleep with you.

At first I thought it was a tasteless joke. Damián had been her boyfriend for several months, a big, broad-shouldered, dark-skinned man, the kind who took up too much space when he entered a room. He worked as a security guard at a nightclub and had always looked at me with a confidence that made me slightly uncomfortable, though I had never imagined Lucía would put such a request on the table.

—Are you talking about a threesome? —I asked, trying to understand.

—No. He doesn’t want me to participate. He wants to be alone with you, but I’d be there. Just watching.

I fell silent. Lucía lowered her voice and explained that he had been insisting for weeks, that he had told her he wouldn’t leave her if she indulged this fantasy for him, that she didn’t want to lose him, and that was why she was asking me for the most absurd favor of our lives. She offered to pay for the hotel, pay me, do anything as long as I agreed.

—I don’t want your money —I told her.

—Then do it for me. Please. I know it sounds horrible, but I’m desperate.

I’m not going to pretend I agreed out of pure friendship. There was something dirty about the idea that churned my stomach and, at the same time, sparked a curiosity I found difficult to admit. I disliked the way Damián watched me, but I also remembered his huge hands, his hard mouth, and the brutal confidence with which he spoke. I told her I needed to think about it. That night I barely slept.

The next day I texted Lucía to tell her yes.

She arranged everything with a precision that made me cringe. She chose a discreet hotel on a quiet avenue, booked the room, and asked me to dress the way he liked: a short skirt, a tight blouse, and a light-colored thong. She didn’t order me to, but the way she pleaded made me feel that I was already involved in something I couldn’t undo without breaking her.

When I finished getting ready, I stared at myself in the mirror for a while. I’m dark-skinned, with wide hips, medium-sized tits, and dark nipples, and those clothes made everything far too obvious. I felt exposed before even leaving the house. Lucía picked me up in her car, and we barely spoke on the way to Damián’s apartment.

He was waiting for us at the entrance to the building. He wore a black shirt open at the neck and smelled of strong soap, tobacco, and night. As soon as I came close, he grabbed me by the waist and kissed me as if I already belonged to him. His tongue invaded my mouth, one hand grabbed a butt cheek beneath my skirt, and the other moved up until it brushed the fabric of my thong.

—This is how I wanted to see you —he murmured against my lips.

Lucía stood to one side, rigid, staring at the floor. I felt a strange mixture of shame and heat. I wanted to say something, but Damián squeezed me tighter and made me walk toward the car. Lucía took the wheel; he got in beside me in the back seat.

As soon as we pulled away, he tugged my blouse down until my tits were exposed. He didn’t ask permission or make a production of it. He leaned in and began sucking one nipple hungrily, first with his mouth wide open, then barely biting, while his hand slipped between my legs. I squeezed my thighs together instinctively, but he separated them with heavy patience, as if he knew I would give in sooner or later.

—Watch us in the mirror —he told Lucía—. That way you can learn.

She looked up for a few seconds. Our eyes met in the rearview mirror, and I felt like covering myself. But Damián already had his fingers inside my thong, caressing my short pubic hair, searching for my wetness with slow movements. When he found my clitoris, he rubbed it in firm circles, without tenderness, and my body responded before my mind did.

I was angry at myself for moaning, but I moaned.

The hotel was twenty minutes away, and the journey felt endless. Damián sucked my tits, slipped his fingers beneath my thong, and whispered in my ear with a low voice that dirtied me from the inside. He told me that from the first time he saw me he had wanted to fuck me, that my hips had driven him crazy, and that tonight he wasn’t going to leave a single part of my body untried.

When we arrived, Lucía paid for the room with clumsy hands. We went up in the elevator without looking at each other. Damián walked behind me, breathing against the nape of my neck, and once inside he locked the door. The room was plain, with a large bed, a mirror on the ceiling, and a chair against the wall. Lucía sat there, pale, as if she were witnessing something inevitable.

—You just watch —he ordered her.

Damián placed me in front of the bed and lifted my skirt. He pulled my thong down to my knees and gently pushed me between the shoulder blades so I would brace my hands on the mattress. I ended up on all fours, open for him, the cold air touching my skin and my friend’s gaze fixed on me.

I felt his mouth before his hands. He spread my butt cheeks and began licking my vulva from behind, slowly at first, his flat tongue traveling up from my entrance to my clitoris. Then he became rougher. He sucked me, barely bit my lips, thrust his tongue inside me, and growled as if the taste were making him lose patience.

—You’re soaked —he said—. And you said you didn’t like the idea.

I didn’t answer. My face was pressed against the bedspread and my fingers were clenched in the sheet. He spanked me hard, then again, until the sting mixed with pleasure. He spat on my ass, slid a finger around it, and thrust it in. I screamed, more from surprise than pain, and heard Lucía shift in the chair.

—Relax —she said in a broken voice—. Please, just endure it.

Her words pierced me in a strange way. I felt used, yes, but also desired in a raw way that made me burn. Damián inserted a second finger, slowly opening me, pulling them out and sinking them back in while he kept licking my pussy. Whenever my body clenched, he laughed against my skin.

—This ass was made for me —he said.

He made me come like that, with his tongue on my clitoris and his fingers buried in my ass. The orgasm seized me without warning, buckled my arms, and left me trembling on the mattress. I felt my own wetness in his mouth, his hot breath, his hands holding my hips so I couldn’t pull away.

When he stood up, he unbuttoned his pants. His cock came out hard, thick, heavy in his hand. He showed it to me as if he also wanted Lucía to look at it. I swallowed.

—First in front —he said—. Then I’m going to fuck that ass.

—Use a condom —I asked, almost instinctively.

Damián shook his head. Lucía closed her eyes for a second, then looked at me as if she were about to cry.

—Do it this way, please —she whispered—. He likes feeling it like that.

I don’t know whether it was desire, pressure, or that hot shame of being watched. Maybe it was all of it together. The truth was, I didn’t leave. I stayed on all fours, breathing fast, and when he pushed, my body received him with a deep contraction. He filled me with a single thrust, all the way in, and I let out a hoarse moan that embarrassed me to recognize as my own.

Damián began fucking me hard. His thighs slapped against my buttocks, his hands held my waist, and every thrust moved me across the mattress. I heard the wet sound of my vagina taking him, the creaking of the bed, Lucía’s ragged breathing from the chair.

—Look how she opens up —he told her—. Look at how she knows how to enjoy herself.

It hurt to hear him talk to her that way, but my body didn’t obey my guilt. The harder he fucked me, the looser my legs became. I slipped one hand between my thighs and began touching my clitoris to the rhythm of his thrusts. Damián noticed and grabbed my hair, pulling just enough to force me to raise my face toward the ceiling mirror.

In the reflection I saw everything: my blouse pushed up, my tits bouncing, his large body on top of me, Lucía sitting at the back with her mouth open. The image humiliated and aroused me at the same time. I saw myself transformed into the favor she had asked for, into his fantasy, into a woman moaning even though she wanted to preserve some shred of dignity.

When he pulled his cock out, I was left empty and throbbing. Damián lay on his back, grabbed me by the waist, and placed me on top of him, with my back to his face and my legs spread. The tip of his cock sought my ass. I tensed.

—Slowly —I said.

—You can take it.

He spat between my buttocks, wet his fingers, and opened me again with patience. Then he pushed. The head went in with an intense, burning pressure that made me grip his thighs. I breathed through my mouth, trying not to close up, while he advanced centimeter by centimeter until he was buried completely.

—God... —escaped me.

—Move —he ordered.

At first I could barely rise and fall. I was burning, too full, and every movement drew a short moan from me. Lucía got up from the chair and took one step closer, as if drawn toward a scene that hurt her to watch. Damián saw her in the mirror and smiled.

—Spit on her ass —he told her—. Help her.

Lucía hesitated. Then she leaned over, trembling, and spat where my body was open around her boyfriend’s cock. The saliva slid down hot, and when I began moving again, the pain eased enough to let in a dark, deep, almost humiliating pleasure. I began riding him faster.

Damián grabbed my tits from underneath and lifted my torso. I ended up sitting on his cock, watching myself in the mirror, legs spread and my ass swallowing him again and again. He moaned loudly, called me dirty, told me no one rode like I did, and said Lucía had to watch closely to understand why he had become obsessed.

—Don’t talk to her like that —I managed to say.

—Then make me forget how to talk.

I leaned forward and began moving with more fury. The pleasure became clearer. It was no longer just burning; it was a pressure filling me from behind and making my empty vagina contract. I touched myself again, rubbing quickly, and my second orgasm rose like a disordered wave. I came all over him, trembling, my voice broken and my eyes fixed on Lucía’s reflection.

He pulled me away before he came. He made me kneel on the carpet and put his cock in front of my mouth. It was wet with me, with my vagina, with my ass, and even so I took it between my lips. Damián grabbed the back of my neck and guided my rhythm, thrusting in until my eyes watered.

—Let her see how you swallow it —he said.

Lucía was standing, her arms crossed over her chest. She didn’t look aroused or calm; she looked broken and grateful at the same time. When I looked at her, my mouth full of her boyfriend’s cock, she moved her lips without making a sound.

Thank you.

That silent word left a knot in my throat, but Damián thrust again and forced me to concentrate on breathing through my nose. I sucked the tip, ran my tongue down the shaft, masturbated him with one hand while licking his balls. He was already close. I knew from the stiffness in his thighs and the way his voice cracked.

—Don’t stop.

I didn’t stop. I felt him swell in my mouth and then come in hot spasms across my tongue. I swallowed some; the rest escaped from the corner of my mouth, and he gathered it with his thumb to push it back between my lips. When he finished, he released the back of my neck and took a step back, satisfied, as if he had closed a deal.

For several minutes no one spoke. I cleaned myself as best I could, pulled up my thong, and lowered my skirt with clumsy hands. Lucía found my blouse and arranged it for me without looking directly at me. Damián dressed slowly, with unbearable calm.

—I’m not going to leave you this time —he told her—. But you have to try harder. Your friend knows how to make me enjoy myself.

Lucía smiled faintly, a small, sad smile. He kissed her on the mouth, then came over to me and asked for my thong. I don’t know why I gave it to him. Maybe after everything that had happened, the garment no longer felt like it belonged to me. He smelled it in front of us, put it in his pocket, and left the room.

When we were alone, Lucía opened her bag to give me money. I closed her hand before she could take out the bills.

—I don’t want you to pay me.

—I owe you —she said, crying silently.

—You owe me your willingness to listen when I tell you to leave him.

She didn’t answer. She sat on the bed, disheveled, her gaze lost in the ceiling mirror. I sat beside her, and for the first time all night I felt more tired than aroused. I hugged her without knowing whether we were still the same friends we had been before.

On the way back, Lucía drove slowly. She told me she was in love, that Damián was intense, that maybe everything would improve after this. I watched the avenue lights pass by the window and said nothing, because I knew it wouldn’t improve.

Before dropping me off at home, she took my hand.

—Maybe he’ll ask me to do it again —she confessed.

I didn’t answer immediately. I thought of her sad face, Damián’s voice, the ceiling mirror, and my own body betraying me with every moan. Then I opened the car door.

—If he asks again —I told her—, don’t call me this time to save your relationship. Call me when you want to save yourself.