My Best Friend and I Stopped Pretending That Night

As the weeks went by, and after what had happened between us, Adrián and I began moving through territory neither of us knew how to name.

We were good friends; we had always been good friends. But after that summer afternoon, something had shifted forever. It was no longer just friendship that kept us together. Something else had appeared between us: a more intimate trust, an invisible brush in every glance, a feeling neither of us dared to say out loud, but that we both carried like an inevitable truth.

We started seeking each other out more and more. Any excuse worked to see each other, to steal a little time together, to sink into that calm that only appeared when he was near. And I say calm, but it was much more than that. I loved listening to him, watching how everything seemed simpler by his side, as if the whole world were reduced to his voice and my breathing.

Without realizing it, we began to depend on each other. Even without putting it into words, we knew that what was happening no longer resembled any relationship either of us had had before. Things were changing, and so were we, a little more each day, even if no one around us suspected it.

***

One Friday, two weeks after that night, the news I had been waiting for finally arrived.

My period had started.

I breathed for the first time in days. I felt the fear dissolve all at once and leave me light, almost happy. I didn’t hesitate: I dialed his number. He deserved that peace too; we both needed it.

—Hello… how are you this morning? —he asked in that sweet tone he always greeted me with.

—Adrián, it’s me. It’s over… I finally got my period —I blurted out, euphoric.

—Yeah?

—Yes, it’s done. We can relax now.

—I’m glad, baby, now you can calm down —he said. But there was something in his voice, something that didn’t match the joy I had expected.

—Aren’t you happy? —I asked, confused.

—Of course I’m happy, sweetie… —he answered with his usual warmth—, but if it had happened, it wouldn’t have been the end of the world either.

I went cold.

Did he really just say that?

—Would you have wanted me to…? —I couldn’t finish the sentence.

—It’s not that I’m planning to be a father right now —he sighed—, but if it had happened, I’d be happy it was with you.

His words went straight through me. I didn’t know what to say. I felt relieved, honestly relieved. After so many days of anguish, I could finally breathe without the air getting stuck in my throat.

—Don’t overthink it… Tomorrow we’ll celebrate, okay? —his voice brightened again—. What do you think?

—Sounds good… what do you suggest? —I replied, letting his enthusiasm carry me away.

That day the shadow that had been following us for weeks disappeared. For a moment, everything felt clean again, like our friendship. Or like what was left of it.

***

Several months later came Mateo’s birthday party, a mutual friend. To everyone else, Adrián and I were still the same as always. No one suspected a thing, no one could have guessed what was going on between us. Not what we had done, not what we had felt afterward, much less what we were still keeping secret. To the rest of the world, we were nothing more than friends. Just that.

That Saturday the plan was simple: an elegant dinner, a couple of dances, a few drinks somewhere where conversation was impossible, and then everyone home.

At least, that was what the others believed.

Because between us, we had other plans. Every gesture said something else, every glance hid a secret.

It was just another Saturday, or at least it looked that way. An ordinary weekend day. And yet, while I got ready, I felt the nervous buzz of someone preparing for something intimate. For everyone else it was a casual night out; for me, it was almost a disguised date. I put on the most provocative underwear I had, a black lace set that barely covered me, imagining the moment his hands would discover it. Just thinking about it made me wet between my legs.

When we arrived, everything went on as usual: jokes, complicity, easy laughter. Nothing gave away that anything had changed. And yet, every time I felt his eyes on me, a wave of heat ran through me, a throb below my navel spreading straight to my pussy. He did nothing obvious, I kept myself almost distant, but there was something in his gaze that touched me more than any caress.

After dinner, the group decided to head down to the harbor area, where the fashionable bars were packed with people. There, among the shoving, the lights, and the noise, it happened.

In a moment of distraction, in half-light, we kissed.

It wasn’t a stolen kiss or a desperate one, but a warm, slow kiss, wrapped in a tenderness that shook me. We kissed in the middle of the street, they could see us, we were in front of everyone, and yet it was as if the whole world had disappeared. He hugged me, holding me against his body with a protective gentleness that completely undid me. His hand stroking my cheek felt like the silent confession of everything he’d been holding back for so long. I could feel the bulge of his cock growing against my hip, barely hidden by his pants, and I bit my lip so I wouldn’t moan right there in the street.

That kiss, so different from the one that first night—less desperate, more real—revealed something I was afraid to admit: my desires and my dreams were not mine alone. He was exactly where I was, even if he worked hard to hide it.

We took advantage of the others getting distracted at the bar entrance to slip away. I was exhausted from pretending, craving a moment alone with him, without glances or masks, and he seemed to be the same. We walked almost without brushing hands, without speaking of it, as if not saying it meant not feeling it. As if the world had finally pushed us to stop pretending what we had wanted for so long.

When I saw the car veer off the usual route, I asked where we were going.

He answered with a dark, conspiratorial smile.

—I thought we could spend a while alone. And the best place for that is where we’re going.

We were headed to his maternal grandparents’ estate, a secluded place but close to the city, built on a privileged hillside.

***

When we arrived, a large gate welcomed us, barely lit by the car’s headlights. Adrián got out, unlocked it, and slid the metal door aside. When he got back in, he smiled at me while his hand brushed my cheek.

—Are you okay?

—Yes… happy —I answered, feeling like I could finally admit it.

He nodded and we kept going.

The gate closed behind us, keeping our little secret. We followed a dirt road. In the distance I saw a modest little house, almost hidden among the vegetation. We went on until the land opened onto a ravine. There, at one end, a wooden gazebo rose like a silent altar. At its feet, the city glowed immense, beautiful, like an offering.

Adrián parked nearby and left the lights on for a moment.

—Come, I want to show you something —he said when he got out.

I walked over slowly. He was leaning against the hood, one leg bent, his gaze fixed on the view. The contrast between the serenity of the landscape and the tension in my chest left me breathless. I stopped a few steps away, entranced by the place and by him. I drew a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. I knew—I felt—that tonight there would be an inevitable return to what I wanted so much.

Then he held out his hand.

When I took it, he tugged me firmly toward him, guiding me against his body. His chest was warm and steady, and when I pressed myself against him I felt that perfect mix of calm and desire only he knew how to stir in me. His arms circled me, wrapping me up.

Adrián was a big man, strong, with an imposing presence. Beside him I felt small, protected, deeply feminine. My curves, my wide hips, my full breasts: they had never been a problem for him. On the contrary, he seemed to appreciate them as part of what drew him to me.

The night seemed to be holding its breath, just like we were.

There, under that immense sky, he held me as if I were the only solid thing in all that darkness. His embrace was warm, firm, and my body settled into his without needing to think about it. It fit perfectly. I felt the rise and fall of his breathing, the tension in his arms, that anxiety he never said in words but that my nearness drove into his body, and it made my skin prickle. His cock, hard and restrained against his pants, pressed between my ass cheeks every time he drew a deep breath, and that pressure alone was enough to soak my panties.

The stars shone above us, silent witnesses to how his chest sought mine, to how the night became complicit in what our bodies felt. I clung to him, to his warmth, to that closeness that was dangerous only because it made me forget everything. And between his strength and my surrender, the world seemed to stop, leaving us suspended in a desire that burned me to the rhythm of our breathing.

His hand stayed at my waist, but it was no longer an innocent caress. It marked my skin, left grooves where his nails dug in with involuntary desperation. He stroked from my thighs upward, firm, determined, as if he knew exactly the point where my skin became fragile. His fingers reached where they were headed and pressed, just enough for a shiver to run from my stomach to the nape of my neck. Then they slid down between my legs over my dress, testing the wetness already soaking my underwear, and he whispered with a dark laugh:

—You’re wet… —he said, pressing the pad of his finger right over my clit through the fabric—. Wet for me, right, slut?

—Yes… —I gasped—, yes, for you.

—Look at me —he ordered in a whisper.

I turned and did.

His gaze caught me, dark, intense, full of a desire I had only guessed at until then. He held my chin with his fingers, tipping my face toward his. The closeness of his lips was a delicious torture; I felt them so near and yet so far, my breathing breaking before he even touched me.

When he finally kissed me, it wasn’t soft.

It was deep. Unrestrained. His tongue invaded my mouth and fucked it with the same rhythm with which his cock was later going to fuck my pussy. He tasted like gin and hunger. He sucked my lower lip, bit it until it tore a moan from me, and dove back into my mouth without asking permission.

His hands climbed up my sides slowly, as if he wanted to memorize every part of me. They found my tits over the dress, he squeezed them, weighed them in his hands, and with his thumb he sought out my already hard nipples, pressing them through the fabric until they hurt. I leaned toward him a little, unable to stop myself from wanting more of that contact. I could feel his body pressing against mine, his breathing getting faster, that little tremor in his chest when my fingers hooked into his T-shirt.

His mouth left mine and continued down my skin, slow and steady, as if he wanted to taste every spot he found. The touch on my neck tore a sigh from me that I couldn’t hold back; it was a direct heat, sinking through my breasts and piercing me without permission. He pulled the neckline of my dress down in one yank, freed one breast, and took it fully into his mouth, sucking my nipple with obscene force, tugging on it with his teeth until I cried out under my breath.

He gripped my hips harder, pulling me flush against him, and my body answered without thinking. I felt the full length of his cock outlined against my stomach, hard as a hot stone, and instinctively I reached down and squeezed it through his pants. He let out a rough growl against my neck.

—Keep touching me like that —he panted—, look what you’re doing to me.

His hand slid down my back with a clear intention, warm and powerful, and when he grabbed my ass firmly he kept me right where he wanted me. Every movement of his pulled me in further, as if my body recognized his before my mind did.

—You have no idea how much I missed you… —he murmured against my skin—. How many times I’ve jerked off thinking about your pussy.

My hands climbed over his chest and I felt the tension, his self-control on the verge of breaking. His lips brushed mine without quite touching, in a cruel and delicious game.

I breathed his air. He breathed mine.

And there, in that suspended tension, I knew that all it would take was one more second for neither of us to be able to stop what was coming.

***

He lifted me onto his hips, stroking my thighs as he held me. He set me down on the still-warm hood. He looked at me with dark, perverse intensity. His impatient hands stripped me of my clothes, leaving my skin exposed to the cold. The dress fell to the ground, the bra followed the same path, and when I was left in panties, he paused a moment to look at me.

—Fuck… look at you —he murmured, running his tongue over his lip—. You’re good enough to eat whole.

He hooked his fingers in the waistband of my panties and slid them down slowly, dragging them over my thighs, my calves, until he pulled them off over my ankles. He brought them to his face and inhaled deeply, never taking his eyes off me.

—Look how your pussy smells —he said, and tossed them onto the hood beside me.

Feeling the cold battling the fire of his hands was like being consumed by an impossible burn.

He kissed me without hesitation, devouring me with the same need as that first time. I melted for him. Reclined on the hood, naked in the cold, I felt the contrast between the icy metal and his scorching heat. He bent down and began kissing my skin calmly, as if he wanted to memorize every inch. His lips left a warm trail that drew sighs from me. He went down my neck, caught one nipple again, sucked it hungrily, tugged it until he made me arch my back, and kept going down my belly, nibbling at my skin, leaving red marks wherever he passed. I clung to him, burying my fingers in his hair.

The moonless night covered us in perfect darkness.

He lifted my legs, opening me for him, placing my heels on his shoulders. I was left completely exposed, my pussy open and glistening in front of his face. The anticipation seized me. I wanted to feel him. I arched my back, offering myself without reserve.

—What a beautiful pussy you’ve got —he whispered—, all swollen, all wet for me.

And the heat of his breath hit me.

He went in straight away, hot and wet. His tongue explored me as if he wanted to drink me. He slid it from bottom to top, licking between my lips, soaking in my wetness, and when he reached my clit he caught it between his lips and sucked with a slow, filthy suction that made me moan out loud. Every shudder of mine urged him on. He pushed his tongue inside my pussy, fucking me like that, in and out, while his nose pressed against my clit. The cold metal stopped existing.

—Adrián, God… —I gasped, gripping the hood—, don’t stop, don’t stop…

—I’m not stopping —he murmured against my flesh—, until you come in my mouth.

He licked me again, this time sliding two fingers up, driving them in to the hilt, curling them right where they made me lose my mind. His fingers moved with precision, fucking me slowly, stealing my breath, while his tongue worked my clit in exact circles. I clung to that suspended moment, on the edge of letting go, feeling everything gathering inside me. A long moan escaped my throat when his tongue sped up, and my hips jerked on their own against his face.

—I’m going to come —I warned between gasps—, I’m coming, I…

I came in his mouth. My whole body clenched, my legs closed around his head, and he kept sucking me while I trembled, prolonging the orgasm until I could take no more and pushed at his forehead to pull him off my overly sensitive clit.

He licked himself clean with a dark smile, his chin shining with me, and looked at me as if he had just tasted something forbidden.

He took my legs by the calves, tracing slow lines over my skin, sliding me on the metal.

My feet touched the ground and I was left in front of him, trembling. His hands were still exploring me, waking everything up.

Then, with a sharp motion, he turned me and bent me over the hood.

The sweetness gave way to something rougher, more instinctive, wilder.

I was left on my stomach, my tits flattened against the metal, my ass raised and offered. I felt a dry slap on one cheek, then another on the other, and the burn traveled up my back mixed with a pleasure I couldn’t recognize.

—What an ass you’ve got, fuck —he murmured, grabbing me with both hands, spreading me open—. I’ve been thinking all night about fucking it.

It was the first time he wanted me like that, with the stars as witness. His hand claimed my sex, exploring my wetness, my desire. He slid two fingers between my lips from behind, teasing my opening, pushing them in to the knuckles and pulling them out gleaming. My moans grew while his fingers played with my swollen clit, moving in quick circles, while with his other hand he fucked me with three fingers, opening me, preparing me.

—Ask me for it —he said, his voice breaking—. Ask me to put it in.

—Put it in —I moaned, pressing against his hand—, please, put it in already…

—What do you want me to put in?

—Your cock —I let out shamelessly—, I want your cock, Adrián, give it to me.

When I heard the buckle fall, I feared his lack of control. I feared repeating history. Behind me I heard him take his pants off, then the sound of his briefs hitting the ground. A second later I felt the hot, thick glans sliding between my ass cheeks, up and down over my soaked slit, searching for my entrance.

—Easy —he whispered over my back.

The sound of the condom freed me from fear. He tore the wrapper with his teeth and I heard him roll it onto his cock with that contained impatience.

—Tonight we’re doing it right —he said.

And he pressed the tip back at the entrance to my pussy, pushing only a little, letting me feel the thickness before sliding all the way in.

He entered me hard, determined. In one thrust he sank to the hilt, and a muffled cry scraped my throat. He filled me completely, drove so deep I felt the impact in my belly. His hands claimed my hips, asserting his control, fingers digging into my flesh, and he started fucking me with a firm rhythm, each thrust deeper than the last.

—Fuck, you’re so tight —he growled—, you’re gripping me so well with that pussy.

The hood vibrated under my body with every slam of his hips against my ass. The sound of flesh hitting flesh, of his balls striking my clit, mixed with my moans and his ragged breathing over my back.

—Let go —he whispered.

He leaned over me, pushed the hair away from my nape, and bit me there while he kept fucking me. One hand slipped under my body, found my breast, and pinched my nipple between two fingers, tugging it in time with his thrusts. The other went down to my pussy and started playing with my clit again, rubbing it while he fucked me.

My body, far from relaxing, grew tighter every second; I was on the edge of the impossible. The need to scream built and built, growing impatient.

—Scream… no one will hear us.

—Harder —I begged, not recognizing my own voice—, fuck me harder, Adrián, please…

He straightened, grabbed my hips with both hands, and started pounding into me with all his strength. Every hit lifted the tips of my toes off the ground. I heard the wet slap of my arousal, felt how he opened me, how my whole pussy was filled with his cock over and over again.

—Like that, slut, that’s how you like it —he growled—, that’s why I brought you here, to fuck you for everything I couldn’t fuck these past months.

—Yes… yes… don’t stop…

And I broke. A deep cry, ripped from the bottom of me. The orgasm shook me through and through, my legs trembled, my pussy clenched in spasms around his cock, and he felt it, because he let out an animal moan and started pumping faster, without rhythm, chasing his own.

He broke too.

—Shiiiiit… —I heard him shout, and I smiled.

I felt his cock thicken inside me, throbbing violently, and his cum fill the condom as he drove in one last time to the hilt, pinning me to the hood, biting my shoulder to muffle the roar. He stayed there, inside me, breathing against my nape, with his hands still dug into my hips, until little by little he emptied out.

***

When the arousal faded, there were no questions. Only silence, quickened breaths dissipating in the darkness. He came out carefully, removed the condom, tied it off, and tucked it into a handkerchief. I got dressed. So did he. We watched the city in silence while he held me, giving back the heat the cold night had stolen from me.

Soft kisses, slow caresses. An hour cut off from the world.

At three in the morning he dropped me at home. A shy goodbye kiss, contradictory. There were people around.

We were returning to reality.

To the punishment of pretending we were only friends.

No one could have warned me that that shy kiss would open a crack between us.

We didn’t see it coming. The marks left by that charade were beginning to leave scars between the two of us.

Sometimes I think that at that moment we could still have saved ourselves. Other times, that kiss was the beginning of the end.

The truth is it didn’t matter: the crack kept growing.

And the worst part was that neither of us took a step to stop it.

I don’t know which thread broke first, his or mine. But something marked the exact point where everything changed again.