Daniela's Friend Felt Me Up in the Back Seat

To properly understand what happened that early morning, you should have read «Daniela and the Pet Store» first. This came afterward, when she was already little more than a number saved in my phone and a pretty face in a profile picture.

My Saturday had been quiet. I was planning to spend the afternoon with a friend, Valeria, watch some series at her place, and let the day wear itself out. But midmorning I got a message from her: she was feeling unwell, had her «red flag» and it would be better to leave it for another day.

With no plans, I spent my time sorting papers. When it was time to feed Rocco, my dog, I found the pet-store receipt among the things still waiting to be dealt with, with a cell-phone number scribbled in one corner in hurried handwriting. It was Daniela's. I picked up my phone and saved it almost without thinking.

As soon as I added it, her profile picture appeared automatically. It was her face: very fair skin, long brown hair, large light-honey eyes, and her tongue sticking out in that mischievous little-girl expression people use so much. Curiosity got the better of me, and I started looking through her status updates. A long row of pictures, almost all memes and corny sayings about love. The last one stopped me: her in a tiny denim short-shorts, a black top that showed off her flat stomach, a cap worn backward, and her hands posed like a bad girl. Underneath was a caption: «I'm the envy of many».

I opened the chat and saw her online. I decided to write to her.

—Good evening —I wrote, nothing more.

—I think your boyfriend got mad —I added right away.

My profile picture is Ezrael, the angel of death, with my initials attached to my name. For someone who didn't have me saved, the reaction was predictable.

—Hey, I don't have you saved. Who are you? —she replied, with an endless string of punctuation marks.

—That's the trouble with going unnoticed in your life.

—Seriously, who are you, or should I block you?

—Whoa, violence already. I'm the guy whose number you wrote on the receipt this morning.

—Mr. Bruno! How are you? —she replied, and I could almost hear her laughing.

—With that «Mr.» and that «you,» you've finished off my forty springs.

—Hahahahaha, no way. I always figured you for younger. Like seventy or eighty.

—Do I look that decrepit?

—Nooo! I really thought you were thirty, thirty-three.

—It's because I preserve myself in good liquor, blue label.

—That's insanely expensive. One day we'll go clubbing with my friends and the guys, chip in, and show up.

—It's just that you don't hang out with the good stuff. I drink domestic—tequila —I wrote, laughing my head off.

—Calm down, Bruno.

—By the way, your boyfriend really did get mad.

—He's a little brat. He left as soon as you came out. I mean, as soon as you left with your order. I'm getting ready to go clubbing with my friends; we'll text later. Kisses, kisses.

—Have fun. And don't do anything bad.

—What wouldn't I do? You're already an old man —she finished, then disconnected.

After that conversation, we began a strange friendship made of messages and crossed schedules. I enjoyed looking at her pictures, some of them suggestive poses, almost always wearing clothes meant to make people look at her. She added me on all her social networks. I played along without expecting anything, amused by that twenty-something energy of hers that never worried about tomorrow.

***

Two months passed. One Sunday, at three in the morning, the phone rang. It was Daniela, crying inconsolably. She said I was the only friend who would be able to drive out to get them in San Joaquín, a town an hour from the city. She had fought with Kevin, and the coward had left them stranded. I told her I would get dressed and leave right then.

Before getting into the pickup, I checked her status updates, because you stay curious even in an emergency. She was wearing a tight high ponytail, little makeup, a faux-leather top with the back exposed, lightweight white bell-bottom pants, and strappy heels. In my fantasies, all I wanted was to slide my hand to the edge of those clothes, slip it beneath the white pants and find out what thong she was wearing, if any, and discover that shaved, wet pussy waiting for me. I imagined pulling her pants down to her ankles, sitting her on the hood of the pickup, and burying my tongue between her lips until I made her tremble. But they were only fantasies, and I was going to play the responsible chauffeur.

The drive seemed endless. The empty highway, the headlights opening a tunnel through the darkness, and me thinking about how absurd the situation was: forty years old and driving in the middle of the night to rescue a girl who didn't even know my number by heart.

When I arrived in San Joaquín, Daniela got into the front and her friend climbed in back. Her friend's name was Carla. She was one of those short girls with a prominent ass, huge breasts, a round face, brown skin, and long curly hair. She wasn't dressed to impress: jeans, a low-cut flower-print blouse, sneakers, and a denim jacket. But she had something—a way of looking straight at you that left no doubt about who was in charge of that friendship.

None of what I had imagined could happen. Daniela gave me a huge kiss on the lips and hugged me tightly; that's when I noticed the taste of alcohol and cheap cigarettes. She buckled her seat belt and fell asleep before we even left town.

All I had left was the highway and the rearview mirror. In the mirror I could see Carla, who had slid toward the middle of the back seat and leaned forward every few minutes, letting those huge tits hang and sway at the level of my neck. At one point another button on her blouse came undone, and I saw them almost completely exposed—two round brown breasts, their dark nipples showing through the now-unsupportive fabric.

—You're Dani's sugar daddy —she blurted, with half a smile.

—No. I'm her friend. And friends don't leave each other stranded.

—Look at her, she's sleeping soundly. Come on, wouldn't you fuck her?

Carla was completely direct. The alcohol and whatever they had smoked had left her without a brake, sizing me up and provoking me to see how far I would go.

—My Dani is so fucking hot —she went on—. If I were a man, I'd have fucked her hard every way already. Look how well-shaped her tits are, and that tight little pussy she must have, still untouched.

And without asking permission, she slipped her hand inside her sleeping friend's top. She pulled out a round, pale breast, with a pink, erect nipple, and began slowly pinching it, rolling it between her thumb and forefinger. Daniela let out a soft moan in her sleep and arched her back slightly. I gripped the steering wheel harder than necessary, staring at the road as though it held the answer to something, feeling my cock hard as a rock inside my pants.

—I love having her between my legs —Carla said, lowering her voice as though telling me a secret—. I make her lick my pussy until I come in her mouth. I grab her by her pigtails and press her face against me, and she sticks out her little tongue like a puppy and sucks my clit and fingers me and doesn't stop until I fill her face. But she doesn't quite dare with me. She's still a virgin, you know? No one has put anything in her front yet. Not a cock, not a finger. Nothing.

I didn't answer. I didn't need to. In the mirror I saw her pull one strap of her blouse down, take out a breast, and start sucking her own nipple while staring straight at me.

—A few months ago she sucked Kevin off, and you interrupted them by accident —she continued, one breast out and the nipple shining with saliva—. The poor guy had to leave with a hard-on and aching balls, then take care of himself, jerk off in the store bathroom because of you —she laughed—. Dani told me she was sucking him really well. That she took him all the way down her throat and Kevin grabbed her head and pushed it. And that he was about to come in her mouth when you walked in.

The whole trip was like that, a rosary of obscenities and confessions I hadn't asked for. I had two worries weighing on me: that Daniela would wake up and think I was the one fondling her tits, or that Carla might climb into the front seat and pull me out right there while I was driving a hundred miles an hour. And a third, silent one: my cock wouldn't go down, and every time Carla leaned forward and brushed my neck with those hard nipples, I wanted to pull the pickup onto the shoulder and fuck her on the hood.

—Where should I drop you two off, Carla? —I asked when we were already entering the city, my voice hoarse from holding myself back.

—At Dani's house. Her parents aren't there, and her younger sister must be asleep. Her sister is older, don't worry—she's twenty-four. She sleeps like a rock.

***

I knew Daniela's house because I had stopped by a couple of times at odd hours to pick up food for Rocco. I parked outside. Carla jumped out of the back seat and, before I understood what she was doing, yanked open the driver's door.

—Hi, sugar —she said, standing in front of me with her blouse open down to her navel and both tits almost exposed.

—What are you doing, Carla?

—I'm just a little hungry —she replied, and crouched down.

What happened next happened so fast that I still can barely process it. She undid my belt, yanked down my pants zipper, and slipped her hand inside my boxer briefs without hesitation. She pulled out my cock, already rock-hard from the whole trip, and let out a little laugh when she saw it.

—Well, look at the dick Sugar was carrying —she murmured—. And Dani doesn't even know.

She took it into her mouth in one motion, all the way to the back, and I felt her throat close around the tip. I arched back in the seat, one hand on the wheel and the other in her curly hair, while she began sucking me slowly, moving up and down with her tongue pressed along the underside. She tightened her lips around the base and dragged them upward, then twisted her tongue around the tip in a way that made me close my eyes. I could hear the wet sounds of her mouth and her heavy breathing each time she pulled off to take air and then swallowed me whole again.

—You've got such a tasty cock, sugar —she panted, lifting her face for a second, strings of saliva hanging from her chin to my glans—. If Dani weren't in the pickup, you'd sit me in the back and put it all inside me. You'd put it in my pussy and my ass. You've got me soaked, look.

She grabbed one breast with her free hand, pulled it out of her blouse, and spat on the nipple, while her other hand gave me a slow, tight handjob. Then she lowered her head again and swallowed me once more, until her nose touched my belly. She sucked me hungrily, spitting saliva over it, sucking my balls too, licking me from base to tip as if I were a lollipop. I felt everything gathering in my belly and pressed her head harder against me.

It was quick because I couldn't hold out any longer. Daniela began shifting in the passenger seat, and Carla felt it too. She shoved my cock all the way in one more time, tightened her lips, and sucked hard as she pulled it out, and I came right there in her mouth, with a spasm that folded me over the steering wheel. I felt her swallowing in gulps without letting go of the tip, milking me for the last drop. She sat up abruptly, wiping the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand, then ran her tongue over her lips as if savoring the taste.

—Good, sugar. You taste good.

I barely had time to put my still-dripping cock away, zip up, and straighten myself out, with a dull ache in my groin and my heart racing. Daniela opened the door, took two steps, and vomited onto the sidewalk. I took her by the waist to steady her; I felt her soft skin beneath the fabric as I guided her toward the door of her house, and accidentally brushed one of her breasts when I grabbed her—the same breast Carla had been playing with for half the drive.

She went inside half-asleep, unaware of anything. Carla then came closer and gave me a slow, deep French kiss, pushing her tongue all the way into my mouth. I tasted my own cum still on her tongue, mixed with alcohol and cigarettes. She bit my lip when she let me go.

—We've got unfinished business, sugar —she said with a laugh, sliding her hand over my pants and squeezing my cock, soft again—. Next time you put the whole thing in me. My pussy first and my ass afterward. And you're going to fill me twice, got it? Once for me and once for Dani, so you can pass it to her with your mouth while she's asleep. You owe her.

She laughed, squeezed me one last time, and sashayed into the house without buttoning her blouse.

***

Because of my job, I barely managed to doze at home that early morning. By ten in the morning I already had everything ready for fifteen days in the high mountains. I put Rocco in the pickup and set off. Around four in the afternoon, my cellphone began ringing with an unknown number. Being as suspicious as I am, I didn't answer until I reached a town just before the entrance to the mountains, right where the signal disappears.

I stopped and found several messages:

—Hi, Bruno! Thanks for last night. Heyyy, I didn't happen to leave my cellphone in your pickup, did I? —Daniela wrote, stretching out her letters again.

At that point in the trip I left the pickup at Rosa's house—she was the town nurse—and from there I got into the only truck that goes into the mountains. I had time to search, and sure enough, Daniela's phone was there, slipped between the seats. To my good fortune—or my misfortune—the dark screen still held the marks of the unlock pattern in the grease and grime from that night's partying.

I stared at it longer than I should have. Fifteen days without a signal ahead of me, that phone in my hand, and Carla's voice still circling through my head: «we've got unfinished business; you put the whole thing in me». I got hard again, sitting there alone in the pickup, imagining Carla riding on top of me with those huge tits bouncing in my face, and Daniela asleep in bed, waiting to be approached with my mouth full. I put it in the glove compartment without unlocking it. For now.

To be continued…