My Cousin Touched My Boyfriend, So I Got Even Later

Damián, my boyfriend at the time, and I had a habit that more than one person would consider disrespectful to the cinema: we would sit in the back rows and touch each other in the dark while the movie played on without either of us paying attention. It was our game. The crowded theater, the lights off, the risk that someone might turn around and catch us. That adrenaline was worth more than any premiere.

That was why I got dressed with purpose that night. I chose a skirt that came a couple of fingers above my knee, just enough that, in the darkness, his hand would find its way without obstacles. Underneath, a tiny thong, practically a string, because I knew that halfway through the movie it would end up pushed to the side while his fingers spread my pussy open in the theater seat. I put on my makeup slowly, sprayed perfume on my neck and cleavage, and looked at myself in the mirror knowing exactly what I expected from the evening: for him to make me come with his hand in the middle of the theater, biting my lip so I wouldn’t moan. I had everything planned.

What I hadn’t planned was running into my cousin.

We were in the ticket line when I heard that shrill voice I would recognize anywhere.

—I can’t believe it! You two are going to the movies too?

Carla appeared hanging off her boyfriend’s arm, a quiet guy named Andrés who always seemed to be asking permission to exist. My cousin had a gift for invading any space within seconds. Before I could come up with an excuse, it was already decided: the four of us would watch the movie together.

—It’ll be so much fun —she said, squeezing my hand with a smile I knew far too well.

Goodbye to my plans.

We entered the theater and settled in from left to right: Andrés, Carla, Damián, and me. Resigned, I decided to at least enjoy the plot, which promised more than I expected. During the first half hour, everything went normally. Low laughter, whispered comments, the sound of popcorn. It even seemed as though the night wasn’t completely ruined.

Then Carla, in one of her grand gestures, knocked her entire soda onto Andrés’s pants.

—Oh, no, I’m sorry! —she exclaimed, and the poor guy got up drenched and muttering, heading to the bathroom to clean himself up and, while he was at it, buy my cousin another drink.

It hadn’t even been two minutes when I felt Damián tense beside me. His whole body suddenly went rigid, as if he had been caught doing something. I turned instinctively.

And there she was.

Carla was pulling her hand away from my boyfriend’s thigh with the speed of someone who knew she’d been caught. It hadn’t been my imagination. It hadn’t been an accidental brush in the dark. My cousin had her hand on Damián’s pants, right over the bulge, her open palm squeezing his cock through the fabric, and she had pulled it away only because I turned my head a second too soon.

I felt heat rise from my neck to my ears. I said nothing. I didn’t yell at her or cause a scene in the middle of the theater. I simply stood up, asked Damián if we could change seats, and sat on the other side of him, far from my cousin, my jaw clenched and my eyes fixed on a screen I could no longer see.

We finished the movie that way, in silence. When the lights came on, I said goodbye to Carla with an air kiss and a plastic smile. Andrés hadn’t noticed a thing. Better for him.

***

The parking garage was one of those huge, poorly lit underground structures where, at that hour, only a handful of scattered cars remained. Our footsteps echoed against the concrete. Damián walked half a step behind me, cautious, knowing something was coming.

We reached the car. He sat behind the wheel and put the key in the ignition, but before he could turn it, I put my hand on his arm.

—Wait —I said—. I want you to tell me what happened.

Damián let out his breath slowly. He knew there was no escape.

—Carla put her hand on my leg —he admitted without looking at me—. She started moving it up, stroking me. She squeezed my cock through my pants, with her palm open, and rubbed it a couple of times. I didn’t do anything, I swear. Then you turned around and it was over.

—You didn’t do anything? —I repeated, sliding my hand up his thigh until I brushed the exact same place she had touched. He was hard. Rock-hard. Pressed against his pants like a stone.

—Nothing.

—You look very much like you didn’t do anything —I said, squeezing him mercilessly—. You’re so fucking hard, Damián. Did my cousin leave you like this?

I watched him in the gloom. His breathing was slightly ragged, his hands still on his thighs, and something in his expression told me the bastard had enjoyed it more than he was willing to admit. And instead of making me even angrier, that thought lit a fire inside me in a way I hadn’t expected. My thong suddenly grew wet, I felt my juices sticking to the lips of my pussy, and I knew I was going to fuck him right there, in the driver’s seat, until I erased Carla from his mind.

Because if there was one thing I wasn’t going to allow, it was for my cousin to have the last word.

—Let’s see —I said, sliding my hand over his chest, above his shirt—. Which hands do you like better? Hers? —I went back down to his fly and squeezed him hard—. Or mine?

Damián swallowed. I saw him shift in the seat, pushing his hips against my hand despite himself.

—Yours —he answered hoarsely—. Always yours.

—Good answer.

I pulled down his zipper before he had time to react. I slipped my hand inside his boxers and grabbed his cock directly, skin against skin, hot and throbbing in my fist. A gasp escaped between his teeth. I began to jerk him off slowly, firmly, feeling him swell even more between my fingers, feeling the tip grow slick.

—This is mine —I whispered in his ear, squeezing the base between my thumb and forefinger like a ring—. This cock is mine. Is that clear?

—It’s yours —he panted.

—Say it again.

—It’s yours, fuck, it’s yours.

I kissed him. It wasn’t a sweet kiss or a kiss of reconciliation. It was a claiming kiss, the kiss of someone marking her territory. At first he responded cautiously, still gauging my mood, but within seconds the kiss became something else. His tongue sought mine desperately, his hands began roaming over my back, my sides, my thighs beneath the skirt I had chosen precisely for this. He slipped his fingers beneath my thong and growled when he discovered how soaked I was.

—You’re dripping —he murmured against my mouth.

—You got me this way, you fucking culprit.

He thrust two fingers inside me in one stroke, all the way to the knuckles, wrenching a moan from me that was smothered between us. He began moving them inside me, curling them, searching for the spot he knew perfectly well, while his thumb worked my clitoris in tight circles. I grabbed the steering wheel so I wouldn’t fall, my hips already moving on their own against his hand.

—Recline the seat —I ordered against his lips, pulling his hand away before I came too quickly.

He obeyed. He pulled the lever and the backrest gave way with a sharp thud. I awkwardly moved across the handbrake, laughing halfway at the impossible amount of space, until I managed to straddle him, my skirt bunched up to my waist and my panties pushed aside. The adrenaline was already coursing through my veins just as it had in the back row of the theater, only multiplied tenfold.

We kept kissing like that, me on top of him, his hard cock trapped between my belly and his, the tip brushing my navel, already wet with his own precum. I bit his lower lip, ran my fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, and tugged lightly, just enough to make sure he knew who was in charge that night. I lowered my head and bit his neck, sucking hard until I left a bright red mark.

—So Carla can see it tomorrow —I whispered—. So she knows where not to put her hand.

I gripped his cock from underneath and rubbed it against the lips of my pussy, up and down, without letting him enter yet. I was so wet that he slipped between my folds as if we were coated in oil. Every time the tip brushed my clitoris, I arched and a gasp escaped through his nose.

—Suck my tits —I asked, pulling down the neckline of my blouse and spilling my breasts over my bra.

Damián didn’t hesitate. He caught one nipple in his mouth, licked it, nibbled it, and sucked hard until I let out a whimper; then he moved to the other and gave it the same treatment, his free hand squeezing the breast that wasn’t in his mouth. I kept rubbing his cock between my legs, growing more and more desperate, feeling my pussy clench around nothing, begging me to put him inside me already.

—Pull your pants all the way down —I whispered in his ear.

He struggled a little with the cramped space, barely managing to lift his hips, but in the end he got his pants and boxers down to his knees. He reached toward the glove compartment and took out a condom from between the car manual and a pile of crumpled napkins. I put it on him, slowly rolling it down his cock with both hands while looking him in the eyes. Then I pushed my thong to the side without even taking it off. There was no time or desire for protocols.

I took hold of his cock and guided it myself, pressing it against the entrance to my pussy. I sank onto him in one motion, swallowing him whole at once, without pausing.

—Holy shit —he groaned with his eyes closed.

—Fuck —I murmured against his mouth—. Fucking hell.

I don’t know whether it was the anger I’d built up against my cousin, the situation inside the car, or the fact that I had arrived that night prepared for something like this to happen. But the instant I felt him enter me, all of him, touching me to the deepest point, a delicious spasm ran through me from head to toe, and I had to bury my moan in Damián’s mouth so I wouldn’t fill the empty parking garage with my voice. I stayed still for a second, sitting on him, clenching my pussy around his cock to hold him tight, squeezing him from the inside until he moaned.

—Can you feel how tightly I’m squeezing you? —I whispered—. Could she do this to you?

—No —he panted—. No one, fuck, no one.

He noticed it. He took me by the hips with both hands and began setting the pace, guiding me, sinking deeper with every movement. I braced my palms against the roof of the car for balance and let myself go, rising and falling, feeling him farther inside me each time, deeper each time. Every downward motion drove him all the way in and drew a short, high-pitched moan from me that I no longer bothered to suppress.

—That’s it, ride my cock —he panted—. Ride it all, my love.

I began riding him faster, leaning on his shoulders, my breasts bouncing in front of his face. He caught one nipple in his mouth whenever I came close, bit it, and released it with a smack. The seat creaked beneath us, the leather steering wheel struck my back whenever I leaned too far backward, my skirt rolled up like a rope around my waist. My thighs were beginning to tremble from the effort, but I wasn’t going to stop for anything.

The windows began to fog up. Outside, the echo of a distant engine reminded me that someone could appear at any moment, that a guard might pass with a flashlight, that anyone walking to their car could see us like this: my skirt rumpled, my breasts exposed, my boyfriend’s cock disappearing inside me again and again. Far from stopping me, that possibility was driving me crazy. I felt my pussy tighten around him just thinking about it.

That was when, in the middle of everything, I discovered something about myself I hadn’t wanted to admit before: I loved the risk, I loved being watched, I loved feeling like a bit of a slut. And I told him in his ear, my voice broken, without the slightest filter.

—Let them see us, Damián. Let them see you fucking me. Let them see it coming out of my face.

—My slut —he growled, slamming me harder against his pelvis—. My slut.

He grabbed me by the waist and pushed me forward against his chest, taking control. He began thrusting up from beneath me, driving into me hard again and again, with all the force the seat allowed. I rested my forehead against his shoulder, my open mouth against his neck, and let him fuck me like that, my feet hooked against the backrest, my thighs spread as wide as possible, feeling every thrust make me rise and fall over him like a doll.

—Do you see how I’m only yours? —I murmured between moans—. Don’t you ever forget it.

—I won’t forget —he panted, holding me tighter—. Never. You’re mine, you’re all mine.

He slipped his hand between us and found my clitoris with his thumb without stopping his thrusts. The circles, the friction of his cock sliding in and out of me, the wetness, his hoarse voice in my ear: everything came together at once. My whole body tensed, my legs trembled, I closed my eyes, and I fell apart over him with a long moan I couldn’t smother, my pussy squeezing his cock in wild waves.

—I’m coming, I’m coming, I’m coming —I repeated against his neck, moving on top of him on my own, no longer able to control anything.

I felt him tense beneath me, his fingers digging into my hips hard enough to hurt, and he managed to hold out for only two more thrusts before coming inside the condom with a guttural groan, pushing me forcefully downward to bury himself as deeply as possible. I felt his cock shudder inside me, every pulse, every hot spurt against the latex, and I came a second time just from feeling it.

I lay against his chest for a couple of minutes, catching my breath, my heart pounding against my ribs and his cock still buried inside me, gradually softening. He stroked my back in silence, still inside me, both of us sweaty and slightly ridiculous in that cramped seat, our clothes half on and semen dripping inside the condom. I laughed softly against his shoulder.

—My cousin will have to settle for watching —I said.

Damián burst out laughing and kissed my forehead.

***

We straightened our clothes as best we could, laughing and clumsily swatting at one another in that tiny space. I pulled down my skirt, tucked my breasts back into my bra, and adjusted my thong, still soaked; he pulled up his pants after tying off the condom and wrapping it in a napkin, both of us with our hair a mess and our cheeks flushed. The windows were still fogged up, and I had to wipe a circle clear with my hand so I could see outside.

When we finally started the car and headed toward the exit, we discovered that we had taken so long that our parking ticket had expired. Damián had to pay again at the machine, grumbling about the extra money, while I laughed in the passenger seat, my body still limp, my thong stuck to my pussy, and an impossible-to-erase smile on my face.

That night I learned two things. First, that anger and desire live much closer together than we think, and that sometimes what begins as anger ends up being the best fuck of the evening. Second, that I would never again underestimate the power of an underground parking garage at two in the morning.

I never told Carla what happened after the movies. There was no need. I knew perfectly well who had taken the prize that night, and it wasn’t her.

And believe me, it was worth every second.