The advice from my friends that changed everything that night

Every Wednesday I get together with my friends for a coffee that almost always ends in wine. We talk about work, money, other people’s kids, and sooner or later the conversation always falls where it always falls: on what happens, or doesn’t happen, between the sheets. One afternoon I let it slip that with my partner we did it two or three times a week, and instead of applause I got a collective grimace.

—It’s not about quantity, dummy —the most direct one of them said—. It’s that you always let yourself get carried away. When was the last time you decided how, when, and where?

I didn’t know what to answer. And that question stuck in me like a splinter.

For weeks they bombarded me with advice: let go, ask for what you want, take the initiative, stop waiting for him to make the first move. At first I was embarrassed even to imagine it. Then it started to do something else to me. Every time I pictured it, I felt a heat low in my belly that wouldn’t let me think about anything else. So one day I told them, half joking, half serious, that the following Saturday I was going to do something different.

***

Saturday arrived and the girls’ words had been spinning around in my head since breakfast. Let go. Don’t think. You take the lead. I decided that night I wasn’t going to wait for anyone.

I started early, with tiny details. A hand that lingered a little too long on his back as I passed through the kitchen, a double-meaning comment when he asked what I wanted for dinner, a look held a second longer than necessary. Martín laughed, amused, but he watched me strangely, as if he were trying to figure out what had changed in the woman he’d lived with for years.

During dinner I was direct. I set down my fork, looked at him over the rim of my glass, and told him I wanted to try something different that night.

—Something different like what? —he asked, raising an eyebrow.

I played mysterious. I stood up, gave him a quick kiss on the neck, and whispered that I had a couple of ideas. He played along with a smile, but I could tell something in the air had already shifted. We finished the wine slowly, talking about anything and everything, both of us knowing the real conversation was another one entirely.

When we got up from the table, I took his hand and led him into the living room without saying a word. I dimmed the lights, put on some low music, and for the first time in a long while I felt like the one in charge. I wrapped my arms around his neck and we started moving slowly.

—Mmm, what’s gotten into you today? —he murmured in my ear, his hands on my waist—. I like it.

I didn’t answer with words. I moved my hips against him, slow, to the beat of the music, and felt him react immediately against my belly. The first bead of sweat ran down the back of my neck. We kept dancing and kissing while his hands slid down my thighs, and my breathing turned irregular in a way the wine couldn’t explain.

He noticed. As he kissed my neck, he slid the straps of my dress down with calculated delicacy and the fabric fell to the floor. I stood there in front of him almost naked, and instead of covering myself, I brushed his ear with my lips.

—Tonight let’s forget everything —I told him—. No thinking. Until we can’t anymore.

His answer was a long sigh I felt vibrating against my skin.

One of his hands closed around the back of my neck and tugged gently at my hair until my throat was exposed to his mouth. The other slid down my back, slow and possessive, until it slipped under the last piece of clothing I had left. But before he could take control, I pulled free of his grip.

I knelt down slowly in front of him without taking my eyes off his. My fingers, still a little shaky, undid his belt. When I freed his pants, his arousal was already straining the fabric. I ran my hands up his tense thighs, stroked him through his clothes, feeling his heat, and only then yanked everything down at once.

I didn’t give him time to react. I took him into my mouth all at once, and I saw his surprise wipe any trace of smugness off his face in an instant. That image was exactly what I had been looking for. I moved with a determination that surprised even me, reading every tremor in his abdomen, every broken sigh.

—Like that, yes… —he murmured, his voice breaking.

I could feel him throbbing, getting firmer and firmer, answering every movement. I found a rhythm, syncing the pressure of my lips with my hand, and he started to tense like a bow about to snap.

—I’m close… —he said, almost a moan.

I didn’t stop. Just when I felt him on the edge, I stopped dead and straightened up, leaving him there, panting against the wall with a face that showed he didn’t understand a thing.

—We’ve only just started —I told him, smiling.

***

I led him to the sofa and made him lie back. I knelt between his legs and stroked him with slow movements, watching him regain his hardness under my hands. When I had him ready, I climbed on top of him, one leg on each side of his hips, never taking my eyes off his.

—You have no idea what you do to me —I whispered, as I lowered myself slowly until I had him all the way inside.

A sigh escaped me as I felt him fill me. I stayed still for a moment, adjusting, and then I started moving. Slowly at first, savoring every second, with my hands braced on his chest. I decided the depth, the speed, the angle. I had total control and that turned me on more than anything.

—Do you feel it? —I asked between gasps, speeding up—. That’s how I like it.

—God… —he answered, his hands digging into my hips—. I don’t know how much longer I can last.

I tightened my muscles around him on purpose and watched him close his eyes. Sweat ran down my back, pleasure gathered somewhere deep inside me, and when I came, it shook me in waves that threw off my rhythm. But he still wasn’t done, and I had no intention of stopping.

I took a breath and moved again, this time with a different urgency, trying to drag him with me. Our bodies crashed together with a wet sound that filled the room. His hips started thrusting upward, meeting mine, until a rough growl tore from his throat at the same time as I came apart over him again. I collapsed against his chest, both of us soaked, our racing hearts beating almost as one.

***

Later, after we’d showered, we ended up in the kitchen making ginger lemonade. He sat in the chair, I sat on the table, and the conversation fell where it had to fall.

—You were incredible —he told me—. What brought on the change?

I blushed a little and told him a half-truth: that I’d been talking with my friends, that they said sometimes doing it without so much romance, more directly, was amazing. That I wanted to add a new kick to the night.

—Well, now you know me better —I added, laughing—. Or didn’t you like it?

—I loved it —he said, and thought about it for a second—. So now I know you like this more than the usual romance.

I burst out laughing when I tossed the towel over his head, and things got hot again right there, over the kitchen table, with him kneeling between my legs and his mouth making me arch my back until I screamed his name.

But it was when we went back to bed a while later that the night took the turn that truly made it different.

***

We were tangled up in the sheets, kissing like two teenagers, when the idea came to me. I took him into my mouth again, and while I did that I started touching myself. He watched me, abs tight, hands opening and closing at his sides, trying hard not to finish. And then I предложed him a deal.

—Let’s do something even more different —I said, letting him go for a moment—. If you cum before I do, you lose.

—And what do I win if I hold out? —he asked, amused and turned on at the same time.

—If you win —I answered, holding his gaze—, you get me however you want. No rules.

—However I want? —he repeated, raising an eyebrow.

—Literally —I told him, and saw the idea light up his eyes.

I knelt again between his legs and went at it hard, touching myself at the same time, taking him right to the edge over and over again. I had him exactly where I wanted him: fighting, gasping, lost. But at some point, looking at him like that, I realized something. Winning the bet meant watching him finish alone while I watched. And what fun was that for both of us?

So I changed plans without telling him. I started faking. I sped my hand up over myself, let out louder and louder moans, exaggerated my breathing, and when I felt him at the limit, I let him go and released a long, broken sigh, as if I had just finished.

He relaxed, relieved, and let everything go with a groan.

—You couldn’t hold out, sweetheart —he said, triumphantly.

—I got overconfident —I lied, laughing to myself—. All this new stuff turns me on too much.

He stroked my cheek and told me that’s how we were perfect, that he was going to make it up to me because I deserved it. And he did. What came after was a string of orgasms—I lost count of how many times he made me scream: with his mouth, with his hands, with his whole body—until he left me trembling and breathless on the mattress.

***

By then I was wrecked, in the best possible way, and I thought that was the end of it. But he reminded me, with a smile, that the bet was still in effect. I had lost, and that meant now he was the one setting the conditions.

He took me by the hand to the wide armchair, the same one we’d used for so many games, and started slowly, patiently. Lots of lubricant, fingers massaging without invading, a low voice that every so often asked if I was okay, if I was relaxing. I nodded, focused on breathing, on loosening every muscle that instinctively tensed.

—This time it’s going to be different —he murmured behind me—. Slow, as far as you can take it.

When he went in, it was immense pressure, slow, opening the way millimeter by millimeter. I held my breath, my nails digging into the fabric of the armchair. The first moment was sharp, but he stayed still, letting me adjust, one hand on my clit drawing soft circles that spread the pleasure through my whole body. When he started moving, the thrusts were short, precise, searching for an internal spot that made my legs tremble.

—Do you like it, sweetheart? —he panted, holding my hips.

I didn’t answer with words. The orgasm took me by surprise, different from all the others, deep and visceral, a shudder spreading from the inside out. I screamed, and my muscles clenched around him so hard they nearly dragged him along too.

But he stopped in time. He lifted me out of the armchair carefully, sat on the armrest, and made me lower myself onto him face-to-face, leaving me in control of the depth. I went down slowly, managing every centimeter to my limit, while he held my waist and breathed hard with every descent.

—It’s all yours —he panted—. Now you’re in charge again.

I moved carefully at first, then faster, sweat running down my back. When I reached the bottom, we both screamed almost at the same time. I felt him spill inside me with a guttural roar, and I let myself fall with all my weight, riding every spasm, until there was nothing left to give.

We stayed like that, connected, motionless, panting until our breathing settled into rhythm. His hand found mine and laced our fingers together. No words were needed.

***

A while later, with my head resting on his shoulder, I couldn’t hold it in and confessed it to him.

—You know? I lost on purpose in the bet. I wanted you to win me.

He went still for a second and then let out a low, disbelieving laugh.

—Seriously?

—Yes. I wanted to feel like I was yours even in that. Like I had no way out.

He pulled me tight against his chest.

—I’d already figured it out —he said—. I played along. But since we’re confessing… I cheated too.

I lifted my head and looked at him.

—I took a pill while you were showering —he admitted, a little embarrassed—. To last, to give you everything you asked for. I understood that if you lost, it was because you wanted exactly this.

I stared at him, and then I laughed. We had both cheated, both for the same thing: to make that night unforgettable, with no limits.

—Next time —I told him, still laughing— we play with no cheating and no helpers.

He held me tighter, that spark of complicity in his eyes, and we both ended up laughing out loud. My friends were right about one thing only: what changed that night wasn’t what we did, but who dared to decide it.