My Son’s Friend Looked at Me Like I Was Another Woman

Marina looked at herself in the mirror, and what the glass reflected left her feeling reassured. At forty-six, she was still firm, with no sagging skin or excess fat. She did yoga, walked long distances in the mornings, and watched what she ate. Years earlier, a scare in her chest had sent her to the operating room, and between reconstructive surgery and implants, she had ended up with breasts any twenty-year-old would have envied: high, round, with dark, alert nipples that stood up at the slightest touch. The only bad thing was that Andrés had barely had time to enjoy them for a few months before the motorway accident that took him from her forever.

It had been a year and a half since then. Marina missed many things about her husband, but above all she missed contact: a hand on her waist, a warm body beside her in bed, a hard cock pushing between her thighs in the early hours of the morning. She still felt young, still knew she was desirable, but she had never thought about starting her life over. She concentrated on Diego, her son, who was studying the same thing his father had. Andrés’s compensation and investments had left them financially comfortable, so Marina kept only a couple of clients at her law firm, more to keep from getting rusty than out of necessity.

She wrapped herself in her robe and sat before the dressing table to brush her hair, a slow, almost sensual ritual. She had always worn it long, a dark, straight mane that fell below her waist. That afternoon called for a celebration: the university grades had come out, and Diego had excelled. Her son had convinced her to invite his friends over for lunch.

When she opened the lingerie drawer, her ring caught on a pair of black lace panties. She unfolded them slowly. They were part of a set Andrés had given her, and she hadn’t worn them since before the operation. Why not? she thought. Things were bought to be used, he always said. She pulled on the stockings, and the feel of the silk raised gooseflesh on her skin, almost like the caress of a hand. The bra, on the other hand, felt tighter than she remembered; after changing sizes, the neckline was scandalously revealing.

She was about to change when a message from Diego came in: “Mom, pick us up in half an hour. Final grade, 8.40. Passed third year.” There was no time left. She put on a knee-length skirt, a white blouse with a modest neckline, and medium-height heels. Ready.

***

Traffic delayed her a little. The kids were waiting for her at the entrance: Diego, his girlfriend Sara—a funny redhead—Nadia, Sara’s twin sister, and Hugo, Diego’s lifelong friend. She hadn’t seen him in a long time, not since Andrés’s funeral, and the change left her speechless. She remembered a skinny, jokey kid; now she had a young man before her with an extraordinarily broad back and a serious gaze.

Diego and the girls settled in the back, tangled up in their classroom jokes, so Hugo took the passenger seat. Marina soon noticed that he took advantage of every turn of his head to look at her. When she pressed the pedals, her skirt rode up and revealed the lace of her garter; when she turned the wheel, her neckline opened a little. She felt somewhat embarrassed, but also a prickling between her thighs she hadn’t felt in a long time, a wet pulse in her pussy that surprised her in broad daylight.

“You’ve changed, Hugo,” she said. “You’re taller. And stronger.”

“I started swimming a couple of years ago, for my back,” he replied. “Two hours a day, without fail.”

“Well, it shows,” Marina murmured, biting her lip without realizing it.

“He’s built like a wardrobe,” Diego’s voice came from the back. “Now we call him Hugo Double.”

Everyone laughed. Marina couldn’t stop noticing the arms and chest outlined beneath his polo shirt. What she hadn’t expected was for him to look at her too, and for something in his eyes to tell her he had noticed her inspection.

***

Lunch passed in an excellent atmosphere. Hugo was studying law, and he and Marina quickly became involved in conversations about the profession. He had instinct; it showed in every comment. He would make a good lawyer.

“And what specialty are you going to choose?” she asked before taking a sip of coffee.

“Half the world talks about criminal law—they’ve watched too many movies. I’d rather choose something with prospects. I think I’ll go into commercial law.”

“That’s my mother’s field,” Diego cut in. “She could help you with your internship, right?”

“That wouldn’t be bad at all,” Hugo replied, staring fixedly at her. Something in that tone held a double meaning. Marina felt her nipples harden beneath her blouse until they showed through the fabric, and from his smile she knew he had noticed too.

Afterward they toured the shopping center. While the younger ones jumped from store to store, Hugo stayed behind talking with her. At one point he asked for her number.

“So I can ask you about anything I’m unsure of,” he said.

“Of course,” she replied, and dictated it to him. He typed with the agility of someone his age. “I’ll save you as Hugo Double. I thought the joke was funny.”

“And I’m saving you as Karina.”

“Karina? Why?”

“I like the name. And it reminds me of someone. You look like that someone.”

“I never imagined myself with a name like that,” she laughed. “But I don’t dislike it.”

***

That weekend the kids went to the beach, to Peñíscola. Marina stayed in the city, buried in a case involving some Finnish clients. On Saturday afternoon, a message from Hugo came in: a group photo on the sand, the boys shirtless, their torsos defined by the sun, and Hugo’s bulge pressed tightly against his swim trunks. She felt that prick again, this time more strongly, a tug that suddenly soaked her panties.

“Have a good time,” she wrote. “And send pictures.”

“A kiss, Karina. Or two.”

That night, alone at home, Marina couldn’t get the boy out of her head. He was her son’s best friend, someone who should have been beyond the bounds of her thoughts, and yet she found herself studying his features. She opened the photo again and zoomed in until Hugo’s face filled the entire screen, then moved down to that bulge and imagined it free, hard, throbbing in her hand. Fuck, I’m getting turned on by my son’s friend, she thought. I could be his mother. And I want him to fuck me.

She went to the bathroom and splashed water on her face. It was nothing more than being horny, she told herself, the lack of physical contact. She masturbated sometimes—she wasn’t made of stone—but a dildo in the bathtub was nothing like real hands, a real cock sinking all the way inside her. And without meaning to, an image slipped into her mind of herself kneeling in front of Hugo, sucking him hungrily, her breasts hanging down while he pulled her hair. “Stop,” she ordered herself aloud. But her panties were already soaked.

That same night, out of curiosity, she typed “Karina” into the search engine. Among dozens of results, one image left her frozen: Karina X, brunette, with straight hair, features that bore an unsettling resemblance to her own. She was a porn actress, a spectacular mature woman admired by thousands of men. Hugo had compared her to Karina.

She should have felt offended. Instead, what she felt was an arousal she hadn’t experienced in years. She was the object of desire of a young, handsome, desirable man. She closed her robe in front of the mirror, and the reflection gave her back the image of a woman on fire, with a suggestive neckline and nipples outlined beneath the silk.

She searched for one of the videos. On the screen, Karina was lying with her legs spread wide beside a swimming pool, while a much younger guy ate her out with long, licking strokes, his chin shining with saliva and juices. Marina put herself in Karina’s place, and Hugo in the young man’s. Without realizing it, her robe had opened completely; one hand rose to her breasts, pinching her nipples until she moaned, while the other moved between her thighs, opening the lips of her already-soaked pussy. Two fingers slid in without resistance and found that inner spot that drove her crazy; her thumb drew circles over her swollen clitoris. On the screen, the actress screamed while she was fucked on all fours, and Marina imagined Hugo behind her, holding her by the hips, driving into her with that young cock she didn’t yet know but already desired desperately. She matched her rhythm to the screen, thrust her fingers in to the knuckle, pulled them out dripping, and sank them back inside. She came once, with a cry she muffled against the cushion, and kept touching herself without stopping; she came again, her legs trembling and the sofa stained with juices beneath her ass. The third time, she brought her fingers to her mouth and sucked her own taste, imagining Hugo asking her to clean herself. She lay sprawled on the sofa, exhausted, her thighs sticky and her chest rising and falling, unable to remember the last time she had touched herself like that.

The phone vibrated. “Hugo Double.”

“Are you awake, Karina?”

“I am. And now I know who Karina is. Pretty intense, huh?”

“Intense, the way I like it. And you?”

“Let’s say… interesting.”

“How interested?”

“Let’s say… wet. Very wet.”

After a long silence, a photo arrived that could only be opened once. Marina noticed that her hands were trembling before she touched it. It showed Hugo’s body from the waist down, his abs tense, his short pubic hair, and below that, his hand holding an enormous, thick cock, the skin stretched tight and the head gleaming with fluid. Her mouth watered. Before closing it, on impulse, she took a screenshot.

“How’s the interest level?” he asked.

“It’s only the pussy of a woman who could be your mother,” she replied, trying to restrain what she was feeling. “You must be tired of seeing better and younger women.”

“If you were my mother, I guarantee you’d have the lustiest son on the planet. And old is just a word. I’d rip your clothes off with my teeth.”

“Oh, give it a rest. Go to sleep.”

“You’re not going to send me a picture first? I want to jerk off thinking about you.”

“If you behave… maybe someday. Good night.”

That night, already in the bedroom, Marina saw herself naked in the mirror and, following an impulse, picked up her phone and posed: one hip cocked, her torso at a three-quarter angle, her breasts proudly firm in profile, her mane falling like a curtain to brush the beginning of her ass. She framed the picture so her face could not be seen and sent it: “I’m indulging you so you can sleep well. Dream of Karina.” She turned off the phone and, for once, slept deeply, her hand still between her thighs.

***

The week passed among meetings and video calls. Diego returned from the beach tanned and rested, and even took care of washing and putting away his clothes, which touched Marina: her son was growing up. On Saturday night, the boy said goodbye to go out partying and warned her that he would probably sleep over at Sara’s house.

Marina decided to take a bath in the hot tub. She undressed, turned on the faucet, and adjusted the temperature. That was what she was doing when the doorbell rang.

“He must have forgotten his keys… that Diego,” she said with a smile, going downstairs to open the door with a bathrobe over her.

“Did you forget to…?” The question died on her lips. It wasn’t Diego looking at her with half a smile, but Hugo. He took a step inside.

“Can I come in?”

“I think you’re already inside,” she replied.

They held each other’s gaze. He admired her face framed by her black mane; she admired the contrast between his light eyes and his sun-bronzed skin, and the bulge already showing beneath his trousers. The tension was obvious.

“I… was going to take a bath and have a drink.”

“I’ll pour it for you. Go upstairs.”

Marina obeyed. As she climbed the stairs, she heard ice clinking in the glasses. Hugo entered the bathroom a moment later and handed her a whiskey. They drank in silence, both knowing they were only delaying the inevitable. She set her glass beside the faucet and turned her back to him. She undid the belt and let the robe fall. The only thing covering her nakedness was her hair.

She felt him approach. One arm circled her waist, his open hand on her belly, close and yet far from where she was burning. His other hand brushed her hair aside and uncovered her neck.

“I love your hair. The scent of your skin. Everything about you,” he whispered, then kissed just below her ear. “I’ve been jerking off to your picture every night for a week, Karina.”

“Shut up and kiss me,” she gasped.

Marina’s breathing deepened. She turned, their eyes met, and she let go of her lies. He kissed her, softly at first, hungrily afterward, when he felt her surrender. Their tongues tangled desperately; they bit each other’s lips and sucked at each other’s saliva. His hands dropped to Marina’s breasts and squeezed them hard, taking their weight, pinching her nipples until he drew a moan from her mouth.

“Fuck, what breasts you have,” he murmured against her lips. “I’m going to fuck them. I’m going to come between them.”

“Anything you want. Anything,” she replied, scratching the back of his neck.

Marina’s hands tore his clothes off eagerly. His shirt went flying, his trousers fell to the floor, and when she pulled down his underwear, Hugo’s cock sprang free in front of her face, proud and hard, a thick vein running from top to bottom and a drop of fluid gleaming at the tip. Marina licked her lips without thinking. It was bigger and more beautiful than in the picture.

She knelt on the cold tile and took it into her mouth, slowly, savoring the way the head forced its way between her lips. She ran her tongue along its entire length, thoroughly wetting the taut skin, and licked his balls one by one, taking them fully into her mouth while her hand stroked his cock up and down. Hugo growled, his fingers tangled in her mane. Marina came back up, coated it well with saliva, and swallowed it in one motion all the way to her throat. She gagged, tears sprang to her eyes, and a thread of drool ran from her chin onto her breasts, but she didn’t let go. She began to suck him rhythmically, sucking hard on the way out, making that wet, obscene sound that drove men wild. She pulled his glistening cock out, spat on it shamelessly, and put it back in. With her other hand she pinched her nipples. His groans confirmed that she felt powerful again, capable of giving pleasure at will, capable of having a twenty-year-old man begging her with trembling legs.

“Stop, stop, or I’ll come in your mouth,” Hugo gasped, pulling her hair upward.

“So what?” she replied, without stopping her hand. “I want to taste you.”

“Later. Now it’s your turn.”

Hugo pulled her up, kissed her, tasting his own flavor mixed with her saliva, and sat her on the edge of the bathtub. He yanked her thighs apart and knelt between them. He lowered his mouth to her, mixing slow kisses and licks from her knee to the center of her desire. Her scent drove him crazy, and he buried his face between her legs.

Hugo’s tongue worked its way between Marina’s already-soaked lips. He licked her from bottom to top, slowly, pressing flat against the flesh and tasting all of her. Then he closed his lips around her clitoris and sucked it as though it were candy, tugging it, releasing it, then sucking it again. He thrust two fingers into her at once and curled them upward, searching for the spot that made her scream, while continuing to suck her clitoris without pause. Marina grabbed his hair and pressed his face against her pussy, rocking her hips against his mouth, rubbing herself shamelessly.

“Yes, like that, eat it all… don’t stop… fuck, you’re so good,” she gasped.

Marina’s moans filled the steamy bathroom. Hugo pulled out his fingers shining with juices and replaced them with his tongue, sliding it inside her, fucking her with it, while his thumb rubbed her clitoris. She was right on the edge, almost there; she could feel the orgasm rising from her feet.

Then he took her hand, and they both stepped into the water. He sat down, and she knelt over him, her knees on either side of his thighs. They stared at each other as she took hold of his cock, positioned the tip against her soaked entrance, and lowered herself inch by inch, feeling it open her, feeling it fill her completely until it bumped against the deepest part of her. They both moaned at once. Marina couldn’t remember ever feeling so full in her life.

They remained still for a moment, joined together, feeling each other inside, his cock throbbing within the hot walls of her pussy. Then Marina began to rock, gaining speed without taking her eyes off his, rising until the tip almost slipped out and then dropping hard until she took all of it inside. Water sloshed and splashed out of the tub with every thrust. Hugo’s hands moved down to her buttocks and spread them, guiding her rhythm; a wet finger brushed that forbidden spot, barely pressing it, and the spark made her moan loudly and throw her head back. He took advantage of the moment to devour her breasts, sucking one nipple and biting the other, adding the movement of his hips to hers. The thrusts grew stronger and faster, his cock striking her cervix, until Marina felt there was no turning back: her muscles contracted in spasms, her pussy squeezed Hugo’s cock so tightly that he had to bite his lip to keep from coming, and the orgasm left her breathless and trembling, with a long cry that rebounded off the tiles.

When she caught her breath, she looked at him. He was still hard inside her, holding back his pleasure, the veins in his neck standing out from the effort.

“I want to finish inside you,” he said.

“And I want you to. But we aren’t using anything.”

Marina thought about it for a second. She rose, his cock sliding out of her pussy with a wet sound, took a bottle of oil from the shelf, and put it in his hand.

“Do it slowly. It’s been a long time. A very long time,” she murmured, turning around and bracing herself with her hands on the edge of the bathtub, offering him her ass. “I’ve never done it with anyone but my husband. Be careful.”

He understood. He warmed the oil between his fingers and began preparing her patiently. First he spread her buttocks and let a cold trickle fall directly onto her hole, watching it run. Then he massaged the outside, drawing circles with his thumb, watching that tightly closed opening widen and contract beneath his touch. He leaned in and gave it a long lick, from top to bottom, from pussy to ass, and Marina shuddered all over with a hoarse moan.

“Oh my God…” she gasped.

He slowly inserted one finger, up to the knuckle, and left it still, giving her time. Then he moved it, pulled it out, and put it back in with more oil. When he felt her relax further, he added a second finger, then a third, opening her like scissors, widening her patiently while kissing the curve of her buttocks and biting the soft skin. Marina brought one hand to her clitoris, still swollen and slippery, and began to rub herself while he slowly opened her. Time seemed to stop. With every thrust of Hugo’s fingers, she pressed herself against his hand, gasping, no longer afraid.

“I’m ready,” she whispered. “Do it, or I’ll come again, and I want us to do it together. Put it in my ass.”

Hugo straightened, poured more oil onto his cock, and stroked it a few times to spread it well. He placed the tip against her hole and pushed just a little, letting her get used to it. She was the one who pushed back decisively until the head overcame the resistance and entered all at once. A sharp stab shot through her, and she held her breath, but forced herself to endure it, digging her fingers between her legs and rubbing her clitoris faster. Hugo held her by the hips, staying still and giving her time, his cock buried only halfway, his teeth clenched from the brutal pleasure of feeling himself wrapped in such a tight ring.

“Breathe, easy, breathe,” he murmured. “God, you’re so tight. You’re going to drive me crazy.”

Little by little the pain gave way to a dense, full sensation, a double pleasure—the feeling of being filled in front by her fingers and behind by his cock. When she began to move, rocking her ass backward, he followed her, entering deeper with every thrust until he felt her swallow him whole, his balls striking her pussy.

“More… harder… I want you to fill me… make me completely yours… fuck my ass properly, don’t be afraid,” she gasped.

Those words unleashed him. Hugo plunged into her forcefully, grabbing her by the mane and pulling her head back, then began thrusting in earnest, with the dry slap of skin against skin and the splashing water flying everywhere. Marina thrust three fingers into her pussy and fucked herself at the same rhythm, feeling through the thin inner wall as his cock moved in and out of her ass. The sensation of being doubly filled brought her to the edge.

“I’m coming… I’m coming again… don’t stop, don’t stop,” she screamed.

“Me too… I’m going to fill you completely,” he growled.

Hugo drove in to the hilt and throbbed with every spasm, while Marina felt him flood the deepest part of her ass with hot spurts, her own orgasm exploding at the same time, longer and more intense than any of the earlier ones, shaking her from head to toe. When he finally pulled out, a white thread of semen slid from her buttocks and fell into the water. Exhausted, they collapsed into the bathtub, embracing, not caring whether minutes or hours passed. He covered her shoulders and neck with kisses until both their breathing returned to normal.

At last Marina got up and handed him a towel.

“Come on, we’ll have to eat. Especially if you want the night not to end here,” she said with a smile. “And I’ve just remembered that Diego has a forgotten box in his wardrobe. It would be a shame to waste it, wouldn’t it?”

Hugo followed her with a broad grin, his cock already beginning to stir again just from watching her walk ahead of him, naked, her wet mane stuck to her back. That was only the first of many nights. In time, Marina insisted that he build a life with someone his own age, and he did, without that ever completely ending what existed between them. What began as a flash of arousal before a mirror became the confession Marina never thought she would make: that she had felt like a woman again thanks to the last man in the world anyone would have allowed her to desire.