My First Time Was with My Best Friend at the Fair

I still remember the first time I looked at him differently. That strange way you look at someone when feelings turn into something deeper and your head fills with butterflies fluttering in your stomach. That day, without a doubt, things stopped being the same between us.

It was August, and like every summer the city filled up with people from out of town, even from other countries. The sun, the beaches —which were not exactly the best on the coast—, the food, and the people’s character drew tourists from everywhere. An irresistible lure for the hundreds of English and French visitors who came to blow off steam from their gray lives.

It was around those days that the city became more than just a beach destination. For an entire week it turned into the big summer party: the fair.

Morning, afternoon, and night, everything was filled with music and noise. It was the big festival of the south, and nobody wanted to miss a thing. Cold wine, good food, sevillanas, rumbas, and the odd current hit accompanied days when joy seemed endless.

That afternoon I went to pick up my friends around one. We had planned to start in the bars in the center and then carry the night on at the fairgrounds. We needed the car, so after an odyssey looking for parking, by two we were already entering the old town, right where all the atmosphere was brewing.

The routine was the same every year. First, Casa Morales, an old-school tavern that was still an obligatory meeting point. A few beers to warm up and let ourselves be carried by the rhythm of the street.

Then came Plaza del Carmen, an area full of tapas bars where people ate, drank, and danced in the middle of the street because the places couldn’t handle the crowd. As the afternoon went on, we hopped from bar to bar, always with the inseparable glass of manzanilla in hand. Local wine that, though nothing special, went down nicely chilled around that time of year, even if we all knew it would later become the argumentative friend responsible for more than one hangover.

By five we were already in an alley off Calle de la Palma. The atmosphere was unbeatable: loud music, laughter everywhere, and a crowd surrounding that bar whose name I don’t even remember, though it hardly matters for what came next.

The place had some large windows open to the street that, acting as a makeshift bar, served a tide of thirsty people shouting for their drinks. In the middle of the street a spontaneous dance floor had formed, where some girls in their flamenco dresses were doing sevillanas with real flair.

We were pressed up against the bar. A glass of tinto de verano in my hand helped take the edge off the heat of the day and loosen us up completely, already tipsy from the alcohol and the party.

Without a doubt, that day was turning out perfect. Since we arrived we hadn’t stopped laughing. I was enjoying the freedom of my newly turned twenty-two years, with no worries and no responsibilities, with only one certainty: I had to live those unrepeatable years to the fullest.

Being able to go out partying every day for the whole week was simply fabulous. A luxury only those who came from elsewhere to spend the summer could afford, or those of us who, like me, felt proud of being from here and living in this blessed land.

Music, laughter, and alcohol. An explosive mix, especially if you added friends and boys. Especially boys.

That afternoon, in that bar, a group of guys stationed at the other corner of the window were trying —not very discreetly— to flirt with us. Laughter, looks, and the odd awkward wink were the weapons they used to try to get our attention. It was one of them who, summoning up his courage, dared to come over to our little corner.

—Are you girls from here? —he asked, trying to hide his real intentions.

From the accent we knew right away they weren’t local. It wasn’t that we knew the whole city, but their way of speaking and a few other details gave them away. Without a doubt, they were from Bilbao.

The guy amused us, and after telling him that yes, we were from there and had always been, we invited him to join us along with his friends.

They accepted delightedly, and between glasses of wine and other stronger drinks, we spent part of the afternoon laughing, failing miserably at sevillanas, and with one of them shamelessly showing what he was after.

That scene started to wear me out. I didn’t feel like putting up with a group of annoying drunks for the rest of the afternoon. I suggested moving somewhere else, hoping to lose them around a corner and be rid of them once and for all. But the rest of the group preferred to stay, so I gave in and we kept going there until the afternoon began to fade.

***

About half an hour later, Adrián appeared.

He was alone, which was really unusual for him. He was always surrounded by his friends and, when he went out partying, he did it in a group. Seeing him there, walking toward me without company, surprised me.

After we said hello, he told me he’d lost sight of his buddies. He had lingered chatting with some acquaintances from work, and when he tried to go back, he couldn’t find anyone.

—I’m on my way to the parking lot, to get the car. I’m heading home now —he said.

I insisted he stay with us a while. It didn’t take much to convince him, and that seemed almost providential to me: it was the perfect excuse to get rid of the guys from Bilbao, who were already starting to get too insistent.

It only took one drink for Adrián to feel like dancing with me. He wasn’t the type to jump in without thinking, but the atmosphere invited it. It wasn’t the first time we’d danced —though not that many times either— but this time something felt different.

Adrián was my great friend, my confidant. Since that summer before high school we had shared a special bond. I talked to him about everything: my loves, my heartbreaks, my doubts. He was my refuge and my comfort, the shoulder I ran to when something hurt. He had always been someone special to me.

But that afternoon, while we danced, something changed.

His hand on my waist, firm and warm, gave me a new sensation. With every look we exchanged I felt an unfamiliar fire. Our bodies drew closer, breaking the air between us, and his scent —so familiar and yet so different— wrapped around me and stirred something I didn’t even know had been sleeping. I felt my nipples harden beneath the thin fabric of my dress, and the brush of his thigh between my legs as we turned sent a wet heat up to my cunt, and for the first time I became aware that I was getting wet for him without having allowed myself to think about it.

That dance became dangerous. In his gaze there was a determination that disarmed me. I wanted to pull away, but I couldn’t. I stayed there, trapped in a sensation that was both foreign and mine at the same time.

What’s happening?, I thought. Our friendship was too valuable, but that current connecting us was impossible to ignore. Without realizing it, my fingers traced over his chest the outline of something I shouldn’t have been feeling. I lowered my eyes for a second and saw how, at the level of his fly, his trousers strained with a thick bulge that left no doubt. He was getting hard pressed against me, and that, instead of scaring me, tightened a hot knot in my lower belly.

I had never looked at him like this before. I had never felt attracted to him. But in that instant I understood that some part of me had been waiting for him all this time.

We weren’t dancing anymore. Only his arms around me existed. I felt at home, protected, lucky. His hand caressed the back of my neck with restrained tenderness, and it was as if everything else disappeared. I felt alive, trembling, with butterflies in my stomach and my panties soaked.

That was when we realized the rest had left.

—Can you believe they left without saying anything? —I thought, amused and annoyed at the same time.

Adrián calmed me with a smile. His hands on my back dissolved any anger. When he offered to take me home, I agreed without hesitation. We had done it a thousand times, but this time the journey meant something else.

On the way our hands brushed, and in an almost involuntary gesture, his fingers sought out mine. That slight contact changed everything. Silence became thick, full of unanswered questions. I knew what I felt, but not what I should do.

It’s Adrián, I kept telling myself. My best friend. If we cross that line, there’s no going back.

But sometimes the heart doesn’t listen to reason.

***

When I got into the car —a large, very spacious SUV— he placed his hand without any pretense on my right thigh. He had already decided. His determination infected me, cleared my thoughts, and made me succumb to the desire of his lips. His hand slid very slowly up the inside of my thigh, moving the edge of my skirt aside, until the pads of his fingers brushed the fabric of my thong and felt how soaked I was. A rough groan escaped him when he realized it.

—You’re dripping, fuck… —he murmured, pressing his palm over my cunt through the fabric.

Without thinking I went for his lips.

It was an urgent, needy kiss, the kind that leaves you licking your lips, wanting more. Short, simple, full of hope and a newly born excitement. I didn’t really know what would come after; only that if we kept going like this, I would want more of what he was giving me. My addiction grew.

Hungry and with a touch of violence, he caught my mouth with his. I felt my body relax. No one had ever kissed me like that, as if he wanted to suck my soul out through my lips. With a primitive, rough desire, he bit my lower lip until I moaned into his mouth. His tongue forced its way between my teeth, seeking mine, tangling with it, sucking on it with an eagerness that left me breathless. While he devoured my mouth, his hand slipped under my thong and his thick fingers spread my cunt lips, sliding in my wetness. One of them began drawing slow circles over my clit, and I jerked in the seat, my hips searching for more.

—Open a little more for me —he whispered against my neck as he sucked on my skin—. I want to feel how wet you are.

I spread my legs as far as the skirt allowed, and he took the opportunity to slide in one whole finger, down to the knuckle, while still rubbing my clit with his thumb. A sharp gasp escaped me. No one had ever touched me like that, with that mix of roughness and knowing exactly where to press. He pulled the soaked finger out, took it to his mouth, and sucked it slowly, staring straight at me.

—You taste fucking amazing —he said, and shoved two fingers into me at once.

The fear of my own inexperience hit me full force when I saw Adrián reacting to those kisses too. He was a virgin, and although I had had hot encounters before and knew how to move in the art of teasing, I had never let myself go all the way. Feeling him getting hard for me, pressing against my hip with a cock that stood out impossibly beneath the fabric, I feared disappointing him.

He must have read it in my eyes. When he moved me to the back seat, he whispered in my ear not to worry, that he’d take care of everything and all I had to do was let go and enjoy the moment. Comforting words, but not enough for the huge anxiety racing through me. I found it hard to do. I was afraid of making a fool of myself, and that absurd worry —absurd, but not unreal— pursued me through every movement.

He, perfectly calm, unfastened his trousers as if haste had vanished and he wanted to show me a great secret. He lowered the zipper slowly, pushed his boxer briefs aside, and his cock sprang out, hard, thick, the glans swollen and shining with pre-cum. What I had already guessed was soon revealed, showing me exactly how many centimeters the matter was. I swear I tried to hide it, as if the size didn’t matter to me, but the truth was that, even if I managed not to look surprised, I was scared imagining myself split open by that dick that was surely going to wreck me.

He gripped his cock at the base and shook it a couple of times in front of me, saying nothing, letting me look.

—Touch it —he asked, his voice rough—. It doesn’t bite.

I reached out with trembling fingers and wrapped them around it. It was hot, hard as stone beneath a paper-thin skin that slid when I moved it up and down. A long moan escaped him and he threw his head back against the headrest.

—Like that, tighter… like that, fuck…

With his other hand he guided my head down. He didn’t need to say anything else. I lowered myself, stuck out my tongue, and ran it from the base to the glans, tasting the salty flavor of the liquid oozing out of him. Then I took him into my mouth, as much as I could, and when I reached halfway I choked. He smiled and stroked my hair.

—Easy, easy. Suck the tip for me.

I did as he said. I licked and sucked his glans, circling it with my tongue, pressing my lips every time I moved upward. With my hand I caressed the base and his balls, feeling them tighten. He dug his fingers into my nape, setting a gentle but firm rhythm, and every now and then he pushed his hips upward to get himself a little deeper, stealing my breath. I had never had a cock in my mouth and I didn’t know if I was doing it right, but from the moans he let out, from the way his belly clenched, I understood he liked it.

—Come here —he said suddenly, yanking my hair upward—. If you keep this up I’m going to come already, and I want to come inside you.

—Relax, it’ll be easy… —he said as he lifted my skirt to my waist and, with a quick tug, tore the thin fabric of my thong.

He placed his big hands on my hips, holding me tightly, and, lifting me a little off the seat, positioned me exactly where he wanted me. Straddling his legs and facing him, I sat down, leaving my breasts at mouth level and his cock just millimeters from my entrance. I could feel the hot glans sliding between my wet lips, searching for the gap, while he deliberately rubbed against me to coat himself with my moisture.

I was nervous, too nervous to think about seducing him. I knew perfectly well that I wanted him, but everything crossing my mind was distracting me.

He, on the other hand, was directing the game. With his hands still on my hips, setting the slow descent that gave him direct access to my insides, he entered me.

It hurt when I felt him go in. The thick head forced its way through, opening me, and I let out a whimper that was smothered against his shoulder. Feeling him stretch my skin, widening me to make room as he sank deep, taking hold of me and filling me completely, tore through me. I felt my cunt yielding under the force, millimeter by millimeter, while he lowered me onto his cock with cruel patience. I didn’t want to stop feeling him even though the pain held me back. I had gotten this far and I owed it to myself to find the exact point of pain that would let me enjoy it. He stayed still, his cock buried to the hilt inside me, waiting for a signal, for something to tell him I was ready before he started moving. I could feel him throbbing inside me, each beat of him against my tight walls.

—You’re so tight, fuck —he muttered against my tits—. Don’t move, give me a second or I’m going to come already.

I arched my back a little, aligning my hips better to find an angle that made his entry easier. That softened the pain, and with a slow but seductive movement I let him know I was ready to continue. I lifted myself a few centimeters off him, letting the cock slide out until it was almost gone, and slowly sank back down again. The sting mixed with a new stab of pleasure, something rising inside me that made me clamp my thighs against his.

He moved with ease —he had experience at this— and he definitely knew what he was doing to make me, at times, stop thinking about things that had no place in that moment. He grabbed my hips harder and started setting the pace himself, making me ride up and down on his cock faster and faster. With every drop I let out a short moan, and the wet sound of my cunt sucking his cock filled the car.

His mouth on my breasts grew hungry, devouring every millimeter of skin within reach. He yanked the straps of my dress down in one pull, baring my tits, and lunged at them. He sucked one nipple while pinching the other between his fingers, biting me until I was gasping. I didn’t know whether it hurt or if that was what was turning me on the most, but I felt my cunt clench around him every time he bit me.

—Ride me, work that cock properly —he whispered, voice broken—. I want to feel you driving it in yourself.

I obeyed. I put my hands on his shoulders, took a breath, and began rising and falling myself, searching for the angle that made me hit something inside that blurred my vision. I found it. Every time the tip of his cock struck there, some deep spot, a sharper, longer moan escaped me. Adrián noticed and gripped my ass, helping me drop harder, deeper, faster.

—Like that, like that, don’t stop —he gasped against my neck, biting my skin—. You’re soaking me through.

I could feel the wetness running down the insides of my thighs, a hot river bathing his balls and staining his lowered trousers. Each thrust of his hips upward added to my downward movements, and the whole car rocked on its suspension. The windows began to fog up from the inside.

Suddenly he hugged me tightly, without stopping his upward thrusts, and pulled me off him. He laid me flat on my back across the rear seat, positioned himself between my legs, and lifted them to rest against his chest. With my knees almost touching my tits and him on top, he guided his cock with his hand and shoved it into me with a hard thrust.

—Oh, fuck! —I cried, grabbing onto the headrest.

—Hold on, hold on, this way I can get deeper.

And he went deeper. I could feel the cock pounding into my depths, hitting something that made me whimper with every thrust. He started fucking me for real, without restraint, with a brutal rhythm, sinking all the way in and pulling nearly all the way out before slamming back in. The sound of his hips hitting the inside of my thighs was wet, obscene, and it was driving me insane.

—Look at me —he demanded—. Look at me while I fuck you.

I opened my eyes and found his, black with desire, jaw clenched, forehead beaded with sweat. Seeing him like that, knowing it was him, my Adrián, the one tearing my cunt apart in the back seat of his car, tightened something inside me. I felt a hot wave rise from my belly, spread everywhere, and explode. I came screaming, biting my lip so I wouldn’t wake the whole street, feeling my cunt contract in violent spasms around his cock.

—That’s it, come on my cock, come for me —he growled, speeding up—. You’re getting so tight, fuck, so tight…

In the rocking of his pelvis, fighting against the seat, he found a more impetuous, more passionate rhythm that culminated when his body slammed hard against my open legs. The moan that escaped him was deafening, and quickly died inside the small cabin. He sank to the hilt in one final brutal thrust, stayed there buried, trembling, mouth open against my neck.

Then I felt something hot and liquid spreading inside me, shot by shot, beat by beat from his cock, a viscous warmth expanding into every corner of me. When he pulled out, his load spilled down my thighs until it soaked his legs and the car seat. A thick white line ran down between my butt cheeks.

***

That was when I panicked.

He came inside me. God, what if I get pregnant? That was the emergency alarm that switched on over my head at that exact moment.

Nothing else mattered now. After that warning went off, it was all haste. I wanted to go home and try to forget the possibility stalking me —remote, but one I experienced as an imminent risk—, wait for the days to pass or maybe run to the ER for the famous pill.

Adrián stopped me when I rushed out of the car after he dropped me on my street.

—Calm down, everything’s going to be fine —he told me, trying to soothe me—. I’m here, look at me. It’s me, I’d never leave you alone.

With his words and a kiss on the lips, I got home wanting to think about nothing. I climbed the stairs still feeling his semen sliding inside my thighs, sticky, marking every step, reminding me that he had emptied himself completely inside me.

It had been my first time. And it had been a disaster.

My best friend became my first time. And my first time turned into a nightmare that haunted me.

After that, the days passed without any news coming. Adrián kept checking on me. Every day he called and we talked about our things, as we always had, only now we added a moment for flirting —“I’m thinking about you,” “I miss you,” “I’d like to…”— and the fateful question that had become our new routine, reminding me of everything I wanted to forget.

—Has your period come yet?

Each day the answer was no, the more anxious I felt. But Adrián was still there, as a friend, as a confidant, and now also as an accomplice.