My First Time with Mateo Ended Like I Never Imagined

It was a Saturday in March and it was still hot when I went down to the neighborhood court. I had the ball under my arm and my head occupied with anything but what would end up happening that afternoon. Mateo was already there, sitting on the concrete bench, drinking water from a bottle that had gone lukewarm in the sun.

—You’re late —he said, without any anger.

—I got here when I got here. Let’s warm up.

Mateo and I had known each other from school. He was a year ahead of me, skinny, quiet, with that half-bored face boys have when they don’t need to talk to get attention. Until that afternoon, to me, he was just Mateo. One more friend I played soccer with on weekends.

He stood up and started pulling down his track pants. I thought he was going to stay in his boxers and I laughed in advance, ready to make some joke. But under the pants he was wearing tight black compression shorts, and when he turned to leave his clothes on the bench, I was left speechless.

The fabric outlined him in obscene detail. It wasn’t possible. I looked once, twice, three times. I couldn’t help staring. Every inch of his cock was visible, drawn against his thigh, thick even at rest, hanging heavy to one side like a truncheon.

—Mateo, is that…?

He covered himself with his hands on reflex, as if I’d caught him doing something else.

—Well, yeah. If it bothers you, I can put the shorts on real quick.

—No, that’s not it. It’s just… I’d never seen anything like that.

—Something like what? Is it weird?

—No, not weird —I muttered—. It’s just huge.

He laughed awkwardly. Even he was a little embarrassed. He pulled the shorts over the compression shorts, but you could still see it, and both of us knew you could see it. We tried to play as if nothing had happened, but I couldn’t stop looking at him every time he ran, every time he bent down to pick up the ball. My head was no longer in the game, and I felt my cunt dampening my shorts every time I saw him jump and that bulge bouncing between his legs.

On one play I turned my back to him to protect the ball. Mateo started pushing me with his hips, supposedly to take it away from me, and I felt that hard bulge pressing against me once, twice, three times. I held my breath. When he took it from me, we were face-to-face. I wanted to pretend I was lunging for the ball, but my hand went straight to his crotch.

I left it there. I didn’t move it.

Mateo went still. He looked at me as if he were asking my permission for something that could no longer be undone. I lowered my hand a little and tried to wrap my fingers around him. I couldn’t reach. He was so hard it looked like he was about to split his shorts. I squeezed his cock through the fabric and felt the pulse of blood beat against my palm.

—Better somewhere else —he said, his voice dry.

—Let’s go to my place. No one’s there.

***

That wasn’t entirely true. My mother was going to meet my father for lunch out, but she still hadn’t confirmed what time they’d be back. I didn’t care. At that moment I didn’t care about anything except getting him into my room as soon as possible.

We didn’t make it to the bedroom. The moment I crossed the threshold into the living room, I turned around and said:

—Here. Right here.

Mateo shut the door with his foot. I sat down on the couch with my knees apart, still wearing my soccer shorts and my sweaty T-shirt. He pulled down his shorts and the compression shorts in one go.

At last I saw him unfiltered, without clothes, without shadows. He was half-erect and even so I could hardly believe it. It was thick, long, heavy, with dark skin and veins standing out like thick ropes climbing up the shaft. The head, purple and shiny, was already fully out of the foreskin, and at the tip a thick drop of pre-cum trembled. Two hands weren’t enough to cover it all. I took it from the base, tried to close my fingers around it, and there was still a good length left over. I stroked his cock slowly and felt it harden until it was stiff as a stick, throbbing in my hand with a life of its own.

—It’s yours —he said, as if he were handing me something serious.

I had never been with a guy. I was nineteen, very curious, and only knew what my friends told me and what I’d seen in some stolen video on a shared screen. I knew how it was done in theory. In practice, my hands were shaking.

I brought it to my mouth. I ran my tongue over the head first, gathering that salty drop, and Mateo let out a guttural moan that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I slid my tongue down the shaft, following each vein, all the way to his balls, and kissed them, sucked them one by one, taking them into my mouth. I went back up, licking his entire length, and then I tried to take him in. I could barely get the head inside. I felt it throb against my palate, hot, salty, dense. I forced myself to open wider, to stretch my jaw until the corners hurt, but there was no way to swallow him whole. I closed my lips around what I could and started moving slowly, sucking hard on the way up, trying not to show that I didn’t really know what I was doing.

—Slowly —he whispered—. Like that. That’s good. Close your lips tight, suck it like that, like you never want to let it go.

I took his balls in my other hand. They were heavy, large, loaded, and when I stroked them, rolling them under my fingers, Mateo thrust his hips forward as if he couldn’t hold back. I felt him hit the back of my throat. My eyes filled with tears, a string of spit escaped from the corner of my mouth, and I soaked his cock in saliva until it ran down his balls and dripped into my hand. I sucked him harder, helping myself with both hands for what wouldn’t fit, moving my mouth up and down with a rhythm that grew more obscene by the second.

—That’s it, that’s it, don’t stop, Camila… like that, swallow as much of it as you can.

When he pulled it out of my mouth, it was so hard and so red I thought it was going to explode. A string of saliva hung from the tip to my lower lip. I stared at it for a second, panting, my jaw trembling, and then I felt something I had never felt before. A heat that rose from my knees to my throat. A sweet, long, electric contraction. I closed my eyes. I was coming. I was coming with such intensity that I grabbed the couch so I wouldn’t fall, and I felt my shorts soak through in an instant, my cunt throbbing in pulses one after another, without anyone having touched me.

—Are you okay? —he asked, frightened.

—I’m fine. Keep going. I just came, asshole. I came just from sucking it.

***

He yanked my shirt off and ripped off my bra. He knelt between my legs, squeezed my breasts with both hands, and pressed my tits together against his cock. He started thrusting between them, slowly at first, then with an increasingly urgent rhythm, fucking my cleavage as if it were a cunt. When he went up, the head reached my chin and I stuck out my tongue to meet it, sucking the tip every time it appeared. Mateo closed his eyes each time, clenched his teeth, and let out a low growl. My breasts were slick with sweat and with the fluid leaking from him, and I imagined it was my cunt and not my chest receiving him.

He stopped before he came. He pulled my shorts and panties down in one yank, spread my legs wide, and buried his face between my thighs. The first lick went through me from top to bottom. He sucked my lips, slid his tongue into my cunt, found my clit and pressed it between his lips until I cried out. He put two fingers in, then three, moving them inside me with a firm hook while his tongue gave me no respite. I grabbed his head and pressed his face hard against my crotch, shoving my cunt into his mouth without a trace of shame.

—Suck me, suck my cunt, don’t stop, you fucking bastard, don’t stop…

I came a second time, driving my heels into his back, my legs shaking. He lifted his face with my juices shining on his chin and licked his lips slowly, looking me in the eyes.

—Turn around —he said suddenly.

I got on all fours on the couch. I braced my elbows against the backrest and offered my ass as best I could, arching my back to lift it up high. I heard him breathing hard behind me. His hands traced my waist, my hips, my thighs, he spread my cheeks with his thumbs and blew between them. Then I felt his cock between my ass cheeks, nudging softly, smearing everything with the mix of my fluids and his pre-cum.

—Put it in, Mateo. Put it in already. Put it in my cunt now.

—It’s your first time. Tell me if it hurts.

He rested it at the entrance and pushed very slowly. I felt myself opening, millimeter by millimeter, felt my cunt stretching around that thick head until it popped and gave way. I clenched my teeth. It was a strange mix of pleasure and pain, like I was being invented a new sense. He kept going in, and in, and I kept thinking no more could fit, and he kept pushing. Another orgasm hit me, this one deeper, slower, rising in waves from my belly, and I let out a muffled cry against the couch back. I could feel every vein of his cock dragging against my walls, could feel the tip touching a place no one had ever touched before.

I wanted more. I wanted to feel all of him. I reached back to touch him and discovered there was still a good part of him outside me. He hadn’t put it all in. He was all the way in and still I was missing a fistful of cock that hadn’t gone inside.

—All of it, Mateo. Give me all of it. Put it in up to the balls.

—It won’t all fit, Camila. I don’t want to break you.

—Break me. I don’t care. Put it all the way in.

He tried anyway. He grabbed my hips and pushed harder, forced his way in another stretch, and I stopped thinking. Words crossed my mind that I don’t remember. I begged for more, I begged him to fuck me harder, I said filthy things I didn’t know I knew how to say, and at the same time I was shocked by what I was saying. Mateo gripped my hips with both hands, his nails digging into my skin, and began moving with brutal rhythm, pulling almost all the way out and driving back in with one single blow, with a slap of skin against skin that echoed through the whole room. With each thrust the couch shifted, my tits bounced against the backrest, and I growled like an animal.

—Like that, like that, go on, fuck me like that, don’t stop…

—Your cunt’s so tight, Camila, fuck… I’m not going to last much longer.

—Come inside. Come inside, I don’t care.

At some point he pulled out of my cunt with a wet, obscene sound and rested it higher, over the other hole. The head pressed against the sealed door of my ass. I had never thought about that. But my body, that afternoon, seemed willing to try everything.

—Slowly —I asked—. Slowly, please.

—Slowly —he promised.

He spat on my asshole, smeared the head of his cock with saliva and my own juices, and pushed only a little. The tip opened my ass with a burning sensation that made me clench my jaw. I took a stretch of it, feeling myself opening in a way I hadn’t even known was possible, and then I asked him to go back to where he’d been before. He pulled out slowly and slid back into me from the front, into my cunt, this time in one single thrust, and shook me until my head went blank. He fucked me with both hands on my hips, pulling me back to drive it deep, and I pushed my ass against him so he’d put it in even farther. I was about to come again, feeling that long contraction rising in me once more, when I heard the key in the lock.

***

My mother.

Mateo barely had time to get out of me. His cock came out of my cunt dripping, shiny, still hard, throbbing in the air. I stayed on all fours on the couch, ass in the air, thighs soaked, face red as an apple. He stood there beside me, not knowing what to do with an erection that wasn’t going to go down by magic.

My mother stayed in the doorway. She didn’t scream. She didn’t throw us out. She looked at him. She looked at his cock, fixedly, without moving her eyes anywhere else. I knew that face. It was the same face she wore when she looked at a good wine or a dessert she wasn’t supposed to eat.

—Mom, I’m sorry —I stammered—. It’s not what…

—Don’t apologize. It’s logical that you desire him. I already imagined as much. That’s why I didn’t go with your father.

She turned to Mateo, her voice still calm.

—Get dressed. Come with me to the kitchen for a moment.

I covered myself with a cushion. I stayed seated on the couch, sweating, my cunt throbbing, still open, with the semen that never came and the orgasm that had been cut in half, and my head spinning. I waited. And waited. They didn’t go to the kitchen. I heard them go up the stairs to my mother’s room. The door closed.

Forty-five minutes. I counted each one. And in each one I imagined them. I imagined my mother on her knees, swallowing the same cock I had just sucked. I imagined how her cunt would open around that cock inside her, how she would scream into the pillow so I wouldn’t hear her. And I realized, with shame, that I was getting wet again.

When they came down, Mateo walked over to me, gave me a short kiss on the cheek, and said, almost in my ear:

—I’ll text you. I’ll call you. Don’t worry.

My mother didn’t look at me. She only said:

—Get dressed. We’re going out to eat.

***

It’s been two months since then. Mateo texts me almost every day. We talk on the phone. We agreed to see each other on June twenty-first. He confessed that he has a girlfriend and that he has also kept seeing my mother. I didn’t believe him at first. Then I stopped asking questions.

A friend of mine, Lucía, met him one afternoon in the square. Ever since, she’s been dropping hints nonstop that she wants to try him. She says she’s been thinking about the idea for weeks, that she’s already talked about it with two others in the group, that if I say yes, she’ll organize it. I mentioned it to Mateo. He said maybe. That he’d think about it.

I don’t know what to do with all this. I know I should feel jealous. I know I should be offended about my mother. But the truth —and this is my confession— is that imagining it turns me on. It turns me on to imagine Lucía with her legs open, dripping, with that cock splitting her in two. It turns me on, however hard it is to say, to imagine my mother riding him, bouncing on him with her tits out, moaning his name in front of me.

Maybe that June twenty-first we’ll end up being more than two in that room. Maybe not. The only thing I’m sure of is that that afternoon, on the neighborhood court, something in me opened all at once and I still haven’t found a way to close it again.