I Confessed to My Best Friend That I Wasn’t the Same Anymore

After that night with Andrés, guilt kept me from sleeping a wink. I knew he was married, I knew my dad was helping him bring his wife over from Colombia, and even so I’d let myself be convinced again. He’d come looking for me with that calm, sure way of his, like a man who knows what he wants, and I’d given in again, spreading my legs against the bathroom wall at the party like a bitch in heat, letting him shove his cock into me all the way while he covered my mouth so no one would hear my moans. The next day I felt even worse, because Lucho had asked me to be his girlfriend just a week earlier, on the beach, and I’d told him no because of a married guy who only wanted to “have fun.”

I needed to talk to someone who wouldn’t judge me. Someone who knew me for real, unfiltered, from before I even knew who I was myself. So I grabbed my phone and texted Lucho: “Are you home? I need to see you.”

He answered right away: “Come over, I’ll have coffee waiting.”

I got there midmorning. He opened the door in a gray sweatshirt and jeans, hair tousled and wearing that calm smile he always has even when he’s just woken up. He hugged me hard, without asking anything, and handed me a black coffee just the way I like it, no sugar, in the same chipped mug as always.

—You don’t have to tell me anything until you want to —he said, and that was enough to make my shoulders loosen a little.

We spent the whole day together, like the old days. We started with the banal stuff: talked about the series we’d been half watching, laughed at stupid memes he’d sent me at three in the morning, ordered pizza and left a game on in the background that neither of us was really watching. We played on the console. He beat me at the soccer game and I crushed him at the racing one, and I cheered like I’d won a World Cup just to see his defeated face.

Then we flopped onto the couch to watch random videos, making dumb comments, laughing until my stomach hurt. It was weird how easy everything was with him. With Andrés, every encounter was electricity and secrecy; with Lucho, it was like breathing.

At dusk, when the sun was already sinking behind the buildings, we sat on the balcony with two cold beers. That’s when I finally talked.

—Lucho… I’m still fucking Andrés —I blurted, looking at the orange horizon instead of at him—. And it’s not just that. The other night, when I got back from the party, something else happened. Renata was there, one of his friends. I was half drunk and so was she. And we kissed. And we ended up fucking. It was my first time with a woman. She ate my pussy until I was screaming and then I licked her out, and you can’t even imagine how much I liked it.

I paused. Lucho didn’t move, just took a sip of beer, his eyes steady on me.

—I thought I was completely straight —I went on—. But I liked it. A lot. More than I want to admit. And now I don’t know what I am or what I want anymore.

—And how did you feel afterward? —he asked softly, not a trace of reproach.

—Confused. Guilty. Because you asked me to be your girlfriend and I said no. Because with Andrés it’s all pure instinct, wanting him to fuck me and nothing else. But with you… with you it’s different. It’s trust, laughter, knowing you’re there. I want to be with you, but I don’t know if I can promise you fidelity right now. I don’t even know what I am.

He stayed quiet for a long while. Then he set the bottle down on the balcony floor, took my hand, and spoke slowly, the way he always chooses his words.

—Mara, it’s okay. We fuck when we both want to, that’s always been the way, long before all this. But before anything else, we’re friends. Best friends. Nothing touches that. I’m not going to ask you for exclusivity if you’re not ready. I’m not going to compete with Andrés or anyone else. If you need to explore, explore. I’ll still be here. Always.

It felt like someone had taken a brick off my chest. I hugged him hard, buried my face in his neck, and breathed in that smell of him that has calmed me for as long as I can remember: cheap soap, a hint of cigarettes, and something I can only describe as home.

***

We kept talking late into the night. He told me he’d been seeing Caro, a girl from the group. Something casual, no labels, but it was good. “It’s not like with you, but it helps keep me from losing my mind thinking about what I can’t have,” he said, laughing at himself. I threw a pillow at his face and we both laughed, that laughter of ours that doesn’t need a reason.

When we couldn’t keep our eyes open anymore, we went to his bed. No sex. Just closeness. He in boxers, me in panties and one of his old T-shirts that hung huge on me. We settled in spooning, his chest against my back, his arm around my waist, his hand open on my belly. I felt his slow breathing at the nape of my neck, his heat seeping through the fabric, the soft brush of his body against mine. Neither of us did anything else. Just being there. Heartbeats syncing up, skin against skin, that intimacy that doesn’t need words.

I fell asleep feeling safe for the first time in weeks. At peace.

***

The next morning I woke up with the sun coming in through the curtainless window and Lucho already awake, kissing my neck slowly, lazily, like he had all the time in the world.

—Morning, crazy —he whispered, his voice rough from just waking up, but with a hunger underneath it that raised gooseflesh all over me.

I turned toward him. Our eyes met and no words were needed. Only desire. His hands slid up my waist, firm, and pulled me against his body. I felt his hard cock rubbing against my stomach over his boxers, hot, throbbing, staining the fabric with a wet patch of pre-cum. He kissed me deeply, his tongue sliding into my mouth with restrained passion, like he’d been holding this back all night and was only now letting it go. I lowered my hand and grabbed him through the fabric, squeezing his whole cock in my palm, and he moaned into my mouth. He was rock hard, pulsing, much bigger than I’d ever imagined all these years.

—Fuck, Mara —he gasped when I pulled his boxers down and took his naked cock in my hand, skin to skin. It felt thick, hot, the tip already wet. I started jerking him slowly, my whole hand around him, looking him in the eye while his face went hazy with pleasure.

His hands moved to my breasts under my shirt. He yanked it off and stared at me like he’d never seen anything like it. He took them in his hands with something like devotion, kneading them slowly, his thumbs brushing my nipples, which hardened at once. I moaned for him, writhing beneath him. He looked at them like they were the most precious thing in the world, lowered his head, and tasted them tenderly first, his tongue flattening around them, then sucking harder, taking my whole nipple into his mouth, nibbling just enough to make me arch.

—These tits have driven me crazy for years —he growled against my skin—. You have no idea how many times I’ve jerked off thinking about sucking them.

—Now they’re yours —I told him, my voice trembling—. Suck them all you want.

He laid me on my back, knelt between my legs, and kept going. One hand slid between my thighs, his fingers brushing softly over my panties, feeling how soaked I was. He pulled them aside and ran two fingers along my open slit, bottom to top, slowly, stopping on my clit.

—You’re dripping, crazy —he murmured—. All wet for me.

—Put them in —I begged, without shame—. Put them in now.

He shoved two fingers inside me at once and I screamed into the pillow. He started moving them inside, curling them, searching for that spot that made me shake, while his thumb circled my clit. His other hand kept squeezing one breast, pinching my nipple until the line between pleasure and pain became delicious. I rocked my hips against his hand, fucking his fingers, moaning his name.

—Lucho, your mouth —I begged—. Eat me out, please.

He went down without needing to be asked twice. He pulled off my panties, spread my legs wide, and buried his face in my pussy. The first lick was long, flat, bottom to top, and it made my legs tremble. Then he latched onto my clit with his mouth, sucking it, moving his tongue over it in a rhythm that had me teetering on the edge within minutes. I grabbed his head with both hands and pressed his face against me, fucking his mouth. At the same time he was pumping his fingers inside me, two, then three, filling me, and I came before I could hold back, arched, screaming, squeezing his fingers with the walls of my pussy while he kept licking me until he milked my whole orgasm out of me.

All at once he straightened up, his mouth and chin shining with me. He grabbed his cock in his hand and started stroking it over me, never taking his eyes off mine, kneeling between my still-open legs.

—I want to finish on you —he said, his voice shaking with need—. I’ve never done it. But with you I want to. I want to fill your tits.

—Yes —I panted, grabbing my own breasts and squeezing them for him, offering them up—. Come on me, all of it, I want to see it.

He sped up his hand, growling softly, the skin of his cock sliding fast under his fist, the tip swollen and red. His abs tightened, he threw his head back and groaned my name, and he came. The first rope hit between my tits, hot, then another on my left nipple, another on my neck, another in my open mouth. I felt the warm cum sliding slowly over my skin and a long moan tore out of me. There was something tender and dirty at the same time about letting him mark me like that, about being the first woman he’d ever dared to cum on. He panted at me with his eyes full of something that was equal parts desire and affection. I ran a finger over my chest, gathered a little of his cum, and put it in my mouth, licking it slowly while I watched him. He moaned again, still hard, his cock throbbing.

—You’re going to be the death of me, Mara —he whispered.

Then he collapsed beside me, pulled me into a tight hug without caring that he was getting himself messy too, and kissed my forehead.

—Come here —he whispered—. We’re not done yet.

I turned toward him and we kissed slowly, deeply, tasting each other on our mouths. His hands slid down my back, squeezed me tenderly, grabbed my ass full-on and pulled me against him. His cock was already hardening again against my thigh. I climbed on top, slipped one leg over each side of him, and took him in my hand. I dragged the tip through my slit, smearing it with my wetness, rubbing it against my clit until we were both moaning. Then I lined myself up and sank onto him slowly, sitting down millimeter by millimeter, letting him open me all the way. I felt him go deep, filling me, hitting bottom. I stayed still for a second, breathing, letting myself get used to how thick he was.

—Jesus, Lucho —I gasped—. You fill me up completely.

We moved slowly at first, looking into each other’s eyes, kissing without hurry. It was passionate, almost tender: his hands on my waist guiding me, my chest against his, his lips on my neck murmuring my name like a prayer. I rose and lowered myself slowly, feeling every centimeter go in and out, squeezing him with my walls every time he hit bottom. He had his mouth open against my shoulder, groaning softly, unable to believe what was happening.

We sped up little by little. He grabbed my hips, lifted me and dropped me with force, fucking me from below, thrusting up every time I came down. The sound of our skin slapping filled the room, mixed with our moans and the bed creaking. He grabbed one breast with one hand and slapped my ass hard with the other. I moaned louder and drove him deeper.

—Harder —I asked him—. Fuck me harder.

He threw me back without pulling out and climbed on top. He grabbed my legs, lifted them, spread them wide, and started fucking me hard, deep, every thrust bouncing me against the mattress. I dug my nails into his back, bit his shoulder so I wouldn’t scream so much. I could feel his cock going all the way in each time, pounding my deepest point, and that mix of pain and pleasure was dragging me right back to the edge.

—I’m going to come —I warned him—. I’m going to come again.

—Come, come on me —he panted, not slowing down—. Squeeze it all out.

I arched, moaning against his mouth, and came hard, shaking under him, my pussy walls milking his cock in spasms. He held out a little longer, fucking me slowly to let the orgasm last, and then he sped up again, growled my name, and came inside me, thrusting all the way in, emptying himself completely, holding me like he never wanted to let me go again. I felt the last hot spurts filling me from within and pressed myself to him, trembling.

We lay there panting, sweaty, stuck together with cum and sweat, laughing softly at nothing and everything. He pulled out carefully and I felt his cum sliding slowly down my thigh. He hugged me from behind, his hand open again over my belly, kissing the nape of my neck.

—Mara, don’t stress —he murmured—. We’re friends. Best friends. I’m not making a big deal out of it. Whatever has to happen will happen. But this, what we have, this will always be here.

I turned a little, kissed him slowly, and curled up against his chest. I felt his heart pounding hard, his warmth wrapping around me, and I knew he was right. With him there was no pressure, no secrets to hide, no guilt. Just trust, affection, and really good sex. And that, at this exact moment in my life when I didn’t understand anything about myself, was exactly what I needed most.

I still don’t know what I am or what I’m going to do about Andrés, or Renata, or everything that opened up inside me that week. But I do know one thing: if everything falls apart, there’s a door that opens with a black coffee waiting for me on the other side. And for now, that’s enough for me.