My Best Friend Confessed Her Fantasy to Me That Night

Renata and I have been friends since school. We’ve spent almost eleven years with one of those friendships people envy: intense, unfiltered, with no secrets. We trained together, went out dancing on Fridays, traveled whenever we could. We saw each other almost every week, slept in the same bed whenever one of us stayed over at the other’s place, and told each other absolutely everything, even the things we’d never tell anyone else. We were that rare and precious thing: true best friends.

She’s a brunette with long hair, chestnut with coppery highlights, falling to the middle of her back. She’s twenty-eight, the same age as me. She always gave me a mix of admiration and something harder to name: warm tanned skin, a narrow waist, firm legs from all the gym, a crooked smile she used when she was plotting something. What stands out most about Renata is the way she moves, as if she knows exactly the effect she has and finds it amusing.

We told each other everything about sex. Who, how, how many times, what we liked and what we didn’t. One afternoon, stretched out on her sofa after a movie, she looked at me steadily longer than usual and blurted out something that wasn’t a joke, even though she said it in a joking tone.

—Camila, you’re the prettiest woman I know —she said—. If you ever feel like trying a woman, promise me it’ll be with me.

I laughed and changed the subject. We’d seen each other naked a thousand times, in the gym changing room, trying on clothes, sharing a bed. I didn’t give it any importance. Or that’s what I told myself.

But the phrase stayed inside me, like a tiny splinter that doesn’t hurt until you brush against it.

In the following weeks I started noticing things I’d overlooked before. The way her hand would stay a second too long on my leg when we talked. The smell of her hair. The curve of her back when she stretched in the morning. I found myself looking at her and immediately looking away, like a teenager.

Around then I’d been listening to a podcast where a woman talked about her first time with another woman. She said it was different, slower, more intense, that a woman knows where to touch because she knows the map by heart. That idea got into my head and wouldn’t leave.

One night, half joking, I texted her: “One day we should try out how much you talk about, haha.” She replied with three laughing faces and that was that. Or so I thought, until one Saturday afternoon I got a short message: “I’m alone at the apartment. Come over.”

***

I arrived without thinking too much about it. We talked about nonsense, put on music, opened a bottle of wine. The apartment had low light, that warm glow from the living room lamps, and by the second glass we weren’t talking about nonsense anymore. We were talking about that line of hers, about mine, about how far we’d be willing to go.

Suddenly Renata set her glass on the table, moved closer on the sofa, and took my face in both hands. She kissed me. It was a soft kiss, testing the waters, strange and delicious at the same time. When we pulled apart we stayed there, looking at each other from two centimeters away, and both of us let out a nervous laugh.

—Well? —she asked.

—I don’t know —I said, and kissed her again.

The second kiss was no longer tentative. The wine had loosened my body and Renata’s mouth was warm, patient, unlike anything I’d ever tried. We slowly sank back against the cushions, hands searching over our clothes, our breathing getting shorter and shorter. At some point I found myself straddling her without really realizing how I’d gotten there.

—Let’s go to the bedroom —she murmured against my neck—. Not here.

We walked to her room without letting go of each other. In front of the large mirror on her closet, we started taking our clothes off between kisses until we were both in our underwear. Renata stood behind me, rested her chin on my shoulder, and wrapped her arms around my waist. I looked at my reflection, tousled, cheeks flushed, and looked at her looking at me. Seeing it from the outside, the two of us like that, was more arousing than anything I had imagined.

—Are you sure? —she asked in my ear, and I noticed her voice was trembling a little.

—More than ever —I replied.

We finished taking our clothes off. Renata turned me around so she could face me and kissed me lower: mouth over my neck, down the middle of my chest, lingering where she knew I’d lose my train of thought. She took me to the bed and laid me down. When her hand went down between my legs and started stroking me, I had to bite my lip to keep from making too much noise. That podcast was right: she knew exactly where and with how much pressure, as if she were reading me.

Then she knelt between my thighs and went down with her mouth. The first time I felt her tongue I had to grip the sheets. She wasn’t in a hurry. She went back and forth, reading every breath I took, pulling away when I was about to come and easing up to start again. I tangled my fingers in her hair and begged her not to stop, and she laughed softly without lifting her mouth, which only made it worse, better, I don’t know.

—My turn —I finally said, panting, and I turned her over.

I spread her legs and gave her back everything she’d done to me. It was my first time with another woman and I discovered I knew exactly what to do, because it was the same body as mine, the same points, the same language. Renata arched her back, pressed my head, said my name in broken bursts between much less decent things. Watching her come undone like that, her, who always had control of everything, gave me a power I hadn’t known before.

—Like that, Cami… don’t stop… —she begged, her voice broken.

Afterward we settled into a position where we could both give each other pleasure at the same time, face against the other’s body, hands never still. It was clumsy and perfect, both of us laughing and moaning in between, not really knowing whom to tend to first.

Then Renata sat up, lips shining and a new smile on her face, and said to me in a hoarse voice:

—I want to feel you against me. Come here.

We lay down on our sides, tangled our legs, and pressed our bodies together. We started slowly, measuring each other, and picked up the pace as the heat grew. Our breasts bumping, our hips seeking each other, the exact friction. It was different from being with a man: more even, more mirrored, both of us leading and following at the same time.

—This is amazing —I managed to say between kisses.

—Harder —she asked, grabbing my hip to pull me closer—. Look at us. Don’t stop now.

We stopped measuring our words. We moved faster and faster, moans without shame, both of us pushing toward the finish at the same time.

—I’m close, don’t stop —I warned.

—Come with me, Cami… together… —she ordered.

We came almost at the same time, our bodies tightening and trembling, our moans blending into one. We stayed wrapped around each other, breathless, laughing from nerves and pleasure, our legs still tangled.

***

Renata lay down beside me, breathing deeply, and confessed something I hadn’t expected.

—I’ve wanted this with you for ages —she said, staring at the ceiling—. Since school, almost. I’ve been dying for it and never dared. I thought I’d scare you off.

I stroked her face. I told her I’d enjoyed it a lot, and that was true. Even though somewhere in the back of my mind I already knew something I wasn’t going to tell her that night: that yes, I’d loved it, but I still like men more. That this had been a door I needed to open, not a house I wanted to live in.

After a while, Renata got up, went to her dresser, and came back holding a toy in her hand, thick and realistic.

—I know you love anal sex —she said with a mischievous smile—. You’ve told me a thousand times. Let me be the one to do it to you this time.

I got on all fours on the bed. Renata went carefully, without rushing, preparing everything, and when she started to enter me I had to breathe deeply and let the air out slowly. That pressure I knew, the one that drives me crazy, a mix of burn and pleasure, grew as she moved slowly and with her other hand stroked me at the same time.

—Do you like it like that? —she asked in a low voice—. Tell me how.

—Deeper… like that, don’t stop —I begged, pushing back.

She found the perfect rhythm, both things at once, and the pleasure rose so fast I couldn’t hold it in. I came with my whole body trembling, legs weak, face buried in the pillow to muffle the cry. I was left in pieces on the bed, with no strength left, while Renata slowly pulled out and laughed against my back, proud of her work.

—It was your turn to return the favor —she whispered.

Then she lay down on her stomach beside me, lifted her hips, and looked at me over her shoulder, nervous but determined.

—Now I want you to do it to me —she said—. I tried once with a guy and didn’t like it, it hurt and that was it. I want you to teach me, since I trust you. I want to know why you like it so much.

I got behind her. I placed one hand on her lower back to help her relax and went at it with all the patience in the world.

—Take a deep breath, pretty girl —I told her—. At first it’s uncomfortable, but if you relax and breathe, everything changes. Don’t tense up, let your body get used to it.

I started little by little. Renata tensed at first and let out a whimper.

—It’s thick, Cami… —she murmured, gripping the sheets.

—Easy, breathe with me —I said, not moving forward any more, waiting for her body to give in—. Touch yourself meanwhile, that helps a lot. You’ll see.

She slid a hand beneath her body and touched herself, and immediately I felt her loosen. I went in millimeter by millimeter, speaking softly to her, waiting whenever I noticed her tense up. Little by little her whimpers changed tone.

—Now yes —she said suddenly, surprised—. Now it feels different… keep going, slowly.

I moved gently, reading every reaction, speeding up only a little when she asked me to. Watching her discover something new, her, who knew everything, had me fascinated. Her fingers moved faster and faster and her breathing turned into a continuous panting.

—Don’t stop, Cami… now I get why you like it… —she said, and suddenly her whole body tightened and shook in a long orgasm that first left her speechless and then trembling.

When she came down from it, I withdrew carefully and let myself fall beside her. The two of us ended up like that, sweaty, exhausted, knotted together in arms and legs, laughing for no reason. I took out my phone and snapped a picture of us hugging, tousled and happy, one of those photos you never show anyone but keep so you can smile to yourself.

The next morning I left early. Already out in the street, waiting for the bus, my phone buzzed. It was Renata: “I loved everything about last night 😈. Would you ever be brave enough to be with someone while I’m there? I have a story to tell you… but I’ll save that one for next time.”

I read the message twice, smiled to myself right there on the sidewalk, and put my phone away without replying. Some answers are better left to ripen. And the truth is, after that night, I wasn’t so sure anymore where my limit was.