I Went Back to My Friend’s House and His Brother Was Already Waiting for Me

My name is Camila, I’m twenty-six years old, and I’ve spent almost half my life wanting the younger brother of my friend Lucas. I know it sounds bad. I know there are unspoken rules about these things. But rules don’t do much when someone looks at you the way Matías looked at me, like he wanted to rip your clothes off with his teeth right then and there, in front of his brother.

I was never the typical skinny girl. I have wide hips, big tits, and an ass that gets attention even when I don’t want it to. For years that made me self-conscious, until I noticed how Matías looked me over every time I walked into his house. It wasn’t a vulgar look. It was something slower, more deliberate. As if he wanted to memorize every curve, every fold, every hollow before I disappeared through the door. As if he were slowly undressing me with his eyes and already knew the color of my nipples by heart.

I met him when he was thirteen and I was sixteen. He was Lucas’s quiet brother, the one who would show up in the kitchen when we were in the living room and vanish before anyone could speak to him. Over the years he changed. His jaw sharpened, that shadow of a beard came in that he never let grow out fully, and he started cutting his hair really short on the sides. But he kept that good-boy face. That was the worst part, because underneath that face Matías knew exactly what he was doing, and what he wanted to do to me.

It started with brushing against me. An arm that touched mine as he passed through the hallway. A hand that lingered on my waist when he greeted me with a kiss on the cheek. One day, he must have been eighteen, he passed behind me in the kitchen and his hand grabbed my whole ass, his fingers sinking into the flesh over my jeans. It wasn’t an accident. He squeezed me, slowly, weighing it, then looked at me out of the corner of his eye to see my reaction. I didn’t say anything. I felt my panties get wet right there, with his brother three meters away. And that silence of mine was an invitation he accepted without hesitation, because from then on he did it every chance he got: hand on my ass, finger sliding between my cheeks over the fabric, thumb brushing a nipple while he gave me a hello hug.

I stopped going to that house for a couple of years. Not because of him, but because life took me somewhere else: a new job, a relationship that didn’t work out, a move to the other side of the city. But when I came back, everything was exactly the same. Lucas greeted me with his usual hug. And Matías, who was already twenty-three, greeted me with that smile that promised trouble and with a very obvious bulge in his sweatpants that he didn’t bother hiding.

The first time we were left alone was on a Friday afternoon. Lucas had gone out to buy something and I was waiting for him on the sofa. Matías came out of his room, sat down beside me, and looked at me without saying a word. Then he leaned toward me and kissed me.

It was a slow kiss. Soft. His tongue entered my mouth with the calm of someone who already knows the other person isn’t going to stop him. He sucked on my lower lip, bit it just a little, and while he did that his hand went under my T-shirt and grabbed a whole breast, squeezing the nipple between his thumb and forefinger until a sigh escaped me. When we heard the front door, we pulled apart as if nothing had happened. But we both knew something had changed, and there was no going back.

From then on, every visit became a game. We looked for each other with our eyes. We waited for Lucas to go to the bathroom or the kitchen to steal a quick, intense kiss, hands searching for skin beneath our clothes. A couple of times I felt his hard cock against my hip and had to bite my lip not to moan. One afternoon he cornered me in the laundry room and shoved his hand into my panties, two fingers straight into my soaked pussy, and made me come while I bit his shoulder so I wouldn’t scream while Lucas was putting on movies in the living room. We lived on the edge of being caught, and that made every brush of skin more urgent, dirtier, more impossible to stop.

The afternoon it all happened, Lucas wasn’t there. He’d sent me a message saying he was running late from work, but Matías opened the door and asked me to come in and wait for him. We both knew I wasn’t going to wait for anybody.

As soon as he closed the door he shoved me against the hallway wall. His hands took my waist and his mouth found mine with an urgency we hadn’t had room to let loose until then. He kissed me while pressing me against him, and I felt his hard cock digging against my stomach over his clothes, throbbing, promising. He grabbed the back of my neck with one hand while the other slid down my back until it reached my ass. He squeezed it without an ounce of shame, fingers sunk into my flesh, parting my cheeks over my jeans the way he’d wanted to do for years without anyone interrupting us.

“I’ve wanted to fuck you for years,” he told me against my mouth, not letting go. “Years, Camila.”

“And what are you waiting for?” I answered, running my tongue over his lip.

We made our way to the kitchen like that, clumsy, never separating our lips, bumping into the hallway furniture. He yanked my jeans off from both sides while I braced myself against the table. He ripped my panties off, literally— I heard the fabric tear and felt the elastic cut against my hip. He lifted my ass, both hands full of my flesh, and sat me on the edge of the table. He opened my legs slowly, looking me in the eyes, and paused a second staring at my pussy open in front of his face, shiny, swollen, the lips already parted with need.

“Look at you,” he murmured. “All wet for me.”

He lowered his head and licked me in one long stroke, from my entrance to my clit. I closed my eyes and an obscene moan slipped out of me. He started by barely touching me with the tip of his tongue, testing, teasing, and then he locked onto my clit and started sucking it like it was the only thing he was going to eat in his life. When he slid a finger into me, I gripped the edge of the table with both hands. When he slid in the second, I dug my fingers into his hair and pressed his face hard against my pussy.

“Like that, like that, don’t stop, you fucking bastard, don’t stop,” I told him, not recognizing my own voice.

His fingers went in and out fast, curled, hitting me exactly there, while his tongue never let go of my clit long enough to breathe. I yanked off my T-shirt and bra, grabbed my tits with both hands, pinched my nipples while he ate me. He lifted his head, looked at me with his whole face shining with my juices, lips and chin soaked, and slowly licked himself clean so I could see.

“Turn around,” he ordered.

He got me down from the table, turned me around, and bent me over it with a shove. My tits were crushed against the cold wood. He spread my cheeks with both hands, wide open, and buried his face between them. I felt his tongue travel all over me, from my pussy to my ass, shamelessly, relentlessly, licking both holes like an animal. When he drove his tongue into my ass, loose, hard, deep, while two fingers kept pumping in my pussy, I exploded. I came against his face with a long cry, my whole body shaking in spasms, my thighs clamping around his head, until I ended up with my forehead resting on the table and my legs trembling uncontrollably, my juices dripping down his chin to his neck.

I turned around with my breathing still ragged. I kissed him and tasted myself, salty, thick, in my own mouth. I slid my hands down to his athletic shorts and tore them off him. His cock sprang hard against his stomach, thick, the head shiny, a drop of clear fluid hanging from the tip. I licked my lips without being able to stop myself. I took him in my hand, squeezed him, felt him throbbing against my fingers, then dropped to my knees on the kitchen floor.

I ran my tongue from base to tip, slowly, looking him in the eyes. I licked his balls one by one, took them into my mouth in turns, while I masturbated him with my hand. Then I took him all the way in with one movement. He let out a grunt and grabbed my hair with both hands.

“Fuck, Camila, fuck…”

I started sucking him slowly, getting used to the thickness, letting my saliva run down over his balls. At first he held my hair without pushing, letting me set the pace. But as I sped up, his hand tightened and he started fucking my mouth like it was another hole. He drove himself all the way down my throat, his balls hitting my chin, my gag reflex shaking me and my eyes filling with tears, but I didn’t want to stop. He pulled out for a second, let me cough, then shoved himself back in deep, gripping my head with both hands.

“I’m going to fill your mouth, slut,” he said through his teeth. “You’re going to swallow everything.”

The back-and-forth grew faster, rougher, until I felt his whole body tense, his cock swell against my tongue, and a hot, thick stream filled my throat. I swallowed the first, but he pulled out and spilled the next ones onto my face, my lips, my tits. He left me marked with semen from forehead to neck. Then he looked at me, there on my knees, covered in his cum, and another drop escaped him that I caught with my tongue. I stuck my tongue out and showed him what I’d swallowed before sliding it across him.

“Come here,” he said in a hoarse voice, grabbing my hand. “We’re not done.”

***

He dragged me more than anything to his room. He threw me onto the bed on my back, spread my legs, and buried himself between them again, this time shoving his tongue straight into my pussy, fucking me with his mouth, his fingers prying my lips apart to have full access. He was determined not to let me come down. Within minutes his cock was hard again, knocking against my thigh every time he moved.

“On all fours,” he ordered.

I turned over without arguing. I lifted my ass into the air and lowered my face against the mattress. I heard the crinkle of the condom wrapper and then felt the head of his cock rubbing against my wet lips, sliding between them without entering yet, teasing. I rocked my ass against him, desperate.

“Ask me for it,” he said.

“Put it in me,” I moaned into the sheet. “Put it in me now, please.”

He pushed in at once, all the way to the hilt, and I let out all the air I’d been holding in a long moan. He filled me completely, split me in two, I felt him stretching me to make room. He gripped my hips with both hands, fingers digging into my flesh, and started fucking me. Firm, deep, steady. Every thrust made me clutch the sheets with my fists and push my ass back for more.

“This is how I wanted you,” he said while he fucked me. “All this flesh for me. Look how this ass shakes every time I stick it in.”

He slapped my right cheek with his open hand, hard. The sound cracked through the room and, far from hurting, it set me on fire. He slapped the other side too. I moaned louder with each slap, my pussy clenching around his cock without me being able to control it.

“Harder,” I begged him. “Fuck me harder.”

He grabbed my hair, pulled my head back, and sped up. His pelvis slammed against my ass with an obscene, wet, repeated sound that filled the whole room along with my moans. At one point he slid three fingers into my pussy together with his cock, just for a second, then pulled them out shining and brought them to my mouth. I sucked them clean, tasting myself, while he kept fucking me from behind.

Those same fingers then went lower, well lubricated with my saliva and my juice, until they reached my other hole. He pressed the tip against my ass and started easing in slowly while he was still inside my pussy. I startled, but I didn’t tell him to stop. He pushed in one whole finger, then after a while the second, and I gripped the sheets with my teeth from how good it felt to be full on both sides.

I was so turned on, so wrecked with desire, that when I felt him pull out of my pussy and set the head of his cock against my ass, I only looked at him over my shoulder.

“Here?” he asked, teasing, rubbing the tip against the already stretched hole.

“There,” I panted. “Slowly.”

He pushed carefully. The head went in first and I let out a long whimper between pain and pleasure. He stayed still for a second, letting me breathe, and then he gradually worked deeper, centimeter by centimeter, until I felt his balls resting against my pussy. He was all the way inside my ass. The pain lasted only an instant. Then it was just pressure, fullness, a sensation I hadn’t expected to enjoy so much. He moved carefully at first, reading each of my reactions, and when he saw that I was moaning without holding back and pushing my ass back against him, he picked up the pace and went deeper.

“Touch yourself,” he ordered. “Touch your clit while I fuck your ass.”

I lowered one hand and started rubbing myself. I was so wet my fingers slid on their own, fast, in circles. With every thrust he gave me in the ass, I pressed harder, until I felt that wave rise from deep inside my bones.

“I’m going to come,” I told him, my voice broken. “Don’t stop, you fucking bastard, don’t stop.”

He grabbed my hair, pulling just enough, and sped up. Fucking my ass hard, with deep, sharp thrusts, his hand in my hair and mine on my clit. The orgasm built from somewhere very deep, rising like a wave I couldn’t stop, and when it hit it shook me completely. I screamed into the mattress, not caring about anything, my ass clenching around his cock in spasms, my juices running down my thighs. My legs trembled so much I nearly collapsed onto the bed.

Matías pulled out carefully and turned me over. He looked at me with sweat shining on his forehead, panting, his cock still rock hard between us. He took off the condom and tossed it on the floor. He asked with his eyes.

“Can I finish inside?”

I didn’t answer with words. I spread my legs and guided him with my hand to my pussy. He entered me again, this time with nothing between us, and we both moaned at the same time. The sensation was completely different. More intimate, more real, hotter. I could feel every vein of his cock brushing against me inside.

He leaned over me with his hands on my tits, squeezing them, twisting my nipples between his fingers, and I wrapped my legs around him, heels dug into his ass to pull him closer. He kissed me deeply and I felt his hot breath against my neck when he whispered that he couldn’t hold out much longer.

“Come inside,” I whispered in his ear, crossing my legs behind his back. “Fill me up completely. I want to feel you dump it all in me.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He accelerated brutally, each thrust deeper than the last, his pelvis slamming into mine with a desperate rhythm. He bit my neck, sucked one nipple, grabbed my face with one hand to look me in the eyes just as he came. His whole body tensed, he gave a groan against my mouth, and I felt that warm pulse filling me from the inside, shot after shot, until it overflowed and ran warm between my cheeks. He stayed still for a few seconds, face buried in my neck and breathing broken, his cock still throbbing inside me. Then his weight relaxed over my body.

When he pulled out, his semen slowly leaked out of me. He looked at me there, open, full of him, and lowered his head again. He licked up everything that had spilled out, slowly, gathering it with his tongue and bringing it up to my mouth so we could share it in a thick, obscene kiss that tore another late moan from me.

Then he collapsed beside me, exhausted. He looked at me with that good-boy face that drove me so crazy, now with both our lips still shining, and asked if I’d liked it. I answered by kissing him slowly, my hand on his cheek, a long, calm kiss that said more than any words ever could.

We stayed like that for a while. In silence, with our legs tangled and the other’s heat still stuck to our skin, my pussy still throbbing, feeling his semen slowly trickle onto the sheets. We didn’t talk about Lucas, or what this meant, or what was going to happen afterward. We were just there, together, listening to the sounds of the street coming through the window, as if for a while the world were simpler than it really is.