I Visited My Friend and His Mother Received Me Alone

That Saturday I went out for a bike ride with no fixed destination. I had stopped by Diego’s house earlier, but he wasn’t there: his whole family had gone to the club for the day. The whole street seemed empty, none of my friends showed any sign of life, so I pedaled to the big downtown park and from there kept going without thinking too much, letting my legs decide for me.

I crossed the Las Acacias neighborhood and, almost without realizing it, ended up in front of Andrés’s house, an old schoolmate I hadn’t seen in a long time. We had shared several years of classes until they separated us into different rooms and we stopped running into each other except during recess. I stopped, rested one foot on the curb, and stood there looking at the facade, wondering whether to ring the bell or keep going.

I didn’t have to decide. The door opened and out came his older sister, hurrying, keys in hand. She barely greeted me with a nod before getting into a black coupe and driving off. Behind her, still in the doorway, was Lorena, Andrés’s mother.

—You here! —she said, surprised, with a broad smile—. It’s been ages since I last saw you.

—Yes, it’s been a while, ma’am. Since they put us in different classrooms, we stopped crossing paths except during breaks —I replied, with one foot still on the pedal.

—Come in, don’t stand out there in this heat.

I rolled my bike inside and followed her in. She looked exactly as I remembered her: wide hips, a waist that seemed impossible beneath them, and a neckline that hinted without showing. She walked ahead of me and I couldn’t help watching her hips sway beneath her skirt. She’s still the same as back then, I thought, and felt the first warning of an excitement I already knew.

—Andrés isn’t here —she explained as she led me further inside—. He’d have loved to see you. He still talks about when you invited him onto the soccer team. I have to thank you for that, you know?

—It was Sergio’s idea, actually —I said—. But he moved to Houston last year.

—Tell me what you’ve been doing with your life. Want a soda? It’s unbearably hot.

—I’d love one, thanks. I came by bike and remembered Andrés. I haven’t seen him in a long time, since he left school.

—He joined the military academy and had to stay there full-time —she said, pouring two glasses in the dining alcove—. He’ll only be back next weekend. If you want, you can come by and stay to eat with us.

—Gladly —I said, and took a long drink to hide where my eyes were going.

We sat facing each other. She rested her elbows on the table, brought her arms together in a way that made her neckline even more visible, and looked at me with a teasing spark.

—Have you already forgotten my name?

—No —I answered—. Lorena, right?

—That’s right. Then why do you call me ma’am? You know I don’t like it. —She stretched out her hand and caressed my forearm as she said it—. I’m glad you showed up. So, what’s new? Are you still playing soccer?

—Now I do wrestling and a bit of gymnastics. I left soccer when I entered university; there aren’t any fields there, only basketball.

—That explains why you’ve gotten so strong. —She squeezed my arm, sizing me up without hiding it—. You’ve become quite the man. Come on, let’s go to the living room; we’ll be more comfortable there and you can keep telling me.

She stood up, smoothing her skirt down with both hands, a slow gesture that traced her hips from top to bottom. I followed her with the glass in my hand, aware that this was not an ordinary conversation and that we both knew it.

She sat on the sofa and the skirt, already short, rode up a little above her knees. She patted the cushion beside her for me to sit next to her.

—So, wrestling? Go on, go on, I like listening to you.

I told her about my training without taking my eyes off the line of her thighs. She shifted, folded one leg up on the sofa to face me, and that posture made me nervous and turned me on in equal measure: the dark skirt let the edge of her pink underwear show, a contrast I found hard to ignore.

—The truth is there isn’t much to tell about me —she said, opening her arms—. This is my life: that of a housewife who spends too much time alone. My son is away at school, my daughter is always out and about with her boyfriend, my husband is buried in his business. —She rested her hand on my thigh again and this time slid it slowly upward, stopping near my groin—. That’s why I was so happy to see you. It brought back very good memories.

I looked at her fixedly. I knew exactly which memories she meant; we both had them in mind from the moment I crossed the door. My body had already responded for me, and having that woman so close, with those legs and that neckline, left little room to pretend.

—You probably don’t even remember —she added, playing with me—. With so many young girls around you…

—Of course I remember, Lorena —I said, bringing my face closer to hers—. It was one of the best things that ever happened to me.

I kissed her while sliding my hand between her legs. She put her arms around my neck, parted her lips seeking my tongue and, pulling me toward her, whispered in my ear:

—Touch me. Feel how I am.

I ran my fingers over the fabric. She was wet, burning hot, and felt soft beneath the garment that barely contained her. She brought her hand down to my crotch, squeezed me over my pants, and pulled back for an instant, her voice breaking.

—Come on, let’s go upstairs.

She took my hand and we went up to her room.

***

As soon as we got inside, she pressed herself against me and kissed me again, this time without holding back, moving her hips against my body. I moved my hands from her waist to her buttocks and squeezed; she sighed and pressed more firmly against me. I unzipped her skirt and we started undressing each other, slowly at first and clumsily after that, laughing among buttons and sleeves.

I untied her blouse and found a front-clasp bra that matched the pink underwear, made of fine lace. I ran my tongue along the edge of the fabric, along the line of her cleavage, and unclasped it with some difficulty. I took her breasts in my hands, kissed them slowly, traced her nipples with my tongue before taking them into my mouth one after the other.

She gasped while unfastening my belt. My pants fell to the floor and I kicked them off with my feet. Her hand slipped inside my underwear and wrapped around me.

—You’re so hard —she murmured, surprised and satisfied at the same time.

She pulled away just enough to take off her skirt and was left only with the pink garment. Then she sank lower, her hands moving over my chest and abdomen, until she knelt in front of me. She tugged my underwear down and looked at me for a second before taking me in her hand.

—Just as I remembered —she said, and bent forward.

What followed made me clench my teeth. Her mouth was warm and patient; she went up and down without hurry, stopped to look at me, and started again. I stroked her hair, tried to pull away when I felt it was all happening too fast, but she shook her head without letting go of me.

—Stay like that —she asked for a second, and kept going.

—Wait —I managed to say—. I want to do it between your breasts.

She sat on the edge of the bed. I moved closer and settled myself between her breasts; she pressed them together with her hands and I started moving. The sensation, added to the way she looked at me from below, brought me to the edge within minutes.

—Almost there —I warned her.

She took me back into her mouth just in time and took everything there, without pulling away, until the end. When she lifted her face, her eyes were shining.

—I wanted so badly to feel this again —she said.

Now it was my turn. I gently pushed her onto the bed and bent down kissing her belly, pausing at her navel, which made her laugh and shiver at the same time. I removed the last garment, still clinging to her skin from the dampness, and spread her legs. I ran my tongue over her from bottom to top, slowly, finding the center of her pleasure and lingering there.

I worked calmly, alternating my tongue with two fingers going in and out to her rhythm. She tangled her fingers in my hair, arched her back, and began moving against my mouth with less and less control until an orgasm shook her all at once.

—There, don’t stop —she begged, her voice broken, her legs trembling at the sides of my head.

I kept going until she gradually calmed down. Then I straightened up, lifted her legs onto my shoulders, and entered her slowly, letting her feel every inch. She opened her mouth, threw her head back, and dug her nails into my forearms.

—It feels so good having you again —she whispered, tightening around me—. I missed you.

I started moving, first slowly and then more firmly. We kissed between thrusts, I kissed her neck and breasts, and her legs wrapped around my waist to pull me deeper inside. I rolled her onto her side, caressed her hip and thigh without stopping my movement, and she kept sighing against my shoulder.

At some point she pushed me so we could turn over and ended up on top. She planted her hands on my chest, intertwined her fingers with mine, and started going up and down, setting the rhythm herself, faster and faster, until I felt I couldn’t hold back any longer and came inside her. She collapsed, panting, on my chest, still moving just a little.

—You came inside —she said suddenly, lifting her head—. What if you get me pregnant?

I must have made an absolutely terrified face, because she burst out laughing.

—Don’t panic, it’s fine —she said, laughing—. You should have seen yourself.

We stayed like that for a while, catching our breath. I caressed her buttocks, kissed her breasts, and she played with her hand between my legs until, without meaning to, we sought each other again more calmly and with more hunger. Her hand brought me back to hardness and mine found her center again.

I positioned myself between her legs and entered her again, in a more frontal position. She lifted her legs to feel me all the way, and I began to thrust hard, alternating deep, slow blows with faster ones, changing the rhythm just when I noticed she was getting close to the edge, stretching out her pleasure. In those moments she was the one moving in true frenzy.

I brought her to the edge of the bed, held her legs up, and fucked her deep and fast. The orgasm tore through her with a cry that must have been heard throughout the empty house; her body twisted and her legs trembled in the air.

I asked her to get on all fours. I wanted to see her like that, to feel the movement of her hips against me while I took her from behind. My hands moved from her buttocks to her breasts, which swayed in time, until I came again, this time truly exhausted, my body pressed against hers.

We stayed still for a few seconds, wordless, before getting into the shower. Under the water, she took the sponge and soaped me up from head to toe, running over me without hurry. When everything seemed finished, she bent down one last time and drew out an ending I hadn’t expected, while I caressed her wet back.

We finished showering almost in silence, with that strange complicity of people who share something no one else must know. I dressed, picked up my bike from the hall, and said goodbye at the door.

—Remember to come next weekend —she said, leaning against the frame, with the same smile as at the beginning—. Andrés will be glad to see you.

—I’ll be here —I answered.

I pedaled home with weak legs and my head spinning. Of all the visits I could have made that Saturday, none would have ended like that. And although I never told anyone, every time I think back to that hot afternoon and the empty house, I feel exactly the same thing again.