The Confession with My Father’s Friend

I’m going to tell this exactly as it happened, because disguising it would take away the fun. My parents had been separated for years, and whenever it was my turn to spend a few days with my father, I almost never stayed with him, but at my paternal grandmother’s house instead. Living with his new wife was awful, so that old three-story house became my refuge, my hiding place, and also where I learned to play with desire without anyone suspecting a thing.

My grandmother lived on the first floor and rented out the other two apartments. She was affectionate, conservative, and completely convinced that I was a quiet young woman, the sort who lowered her eyes and obeyed. She would talk to me about taking care of myself, not trusting just any man, and waiting for the right one. I listened with a serious expression while laughing inside, because I already knew exactly what I liked and how to arouse a man when I wanted him to desire me.

“Sweetheart, men only think about taking advantage,” she would sometimes tell me while serving coffee.

“Yes, Grandma, I take care of myself,” I replied.

The truth was different. There was nothing innocent about me anymore, and I got excited by the effect of my body, my clothes, and a carefully measured smile. It wasn’t just about sleeping with someone. It was about taking him to the edge, making him look at me, making him nervous, feeling that he was dying to touch me. That sensation got me wet even before anything happened.

A friend of my father’s lived on the second floor. I’m not going to use his real name, so I’ll call him Darío. He was a grown man, recently divorced, the kind who commanded attention the moment he entered a room. Tall, broad-shouldered, with a close-cropped beard, a hairy chest that showed whenever he unbuttoned his shirt, a deep voice, and large hands. He wasn’t a pretty boy. He was a fully grown man, and that was exactly what drove me crazy.

Since my grandmother sold him breakfast and lunch, he came downstairs every day. That was where it all began: with brief comments, gazes that lasted too long, and his shameless way of running his eyes over my body while pretending he wasn’t. I could feel his eyes on my tits, my legs, my ass. And instead of bothering me, it turned me on.

“You get prettier every day,” he said one morning in a low voice while my grandmother stood with her back to us beside the stove.

“You always say the same thing,” I replied without looking directly at him.

“Because you’re always worth looking at.”

I felt a wave of heat between my legs, and at the same time I got wetter. That was how it was with him. Two sentences were enough to start soaking my panties.

***

The house had a large inner courtyard where clothes were washed and hung out to dry. It could be seen perfectly from the second-floor windows. One afternoon I went downstairs to do the laundry in tiny shorts and a tight T-shirt, without a bra, more to provoke him than for comfort. I knew he was upstairs. I sensed it. And when I heard the window open, I confirmed that I hadn’t been wrong.

I looked up, and there he was, leaning against the frame, staring without shame. He didn’t look away when I bent down to pick up a basket. Not when I raised my arms to hang up some still-damp thongs, either. On the contrary, he stood even more still, as if he didn’t want to miss a thing.

“What are you looking at so intently?” I asked him with a smile.

He pretended to be surprised, but the hungry look on his face was obvious.

“Nothing.”

“Well, for nothing, you sure can’t take your eyes off me.”

He let out a brief laugh. I kept hanging clothes, but no longer because they needed hanging; I was putting myself on display. I turned slowly, bent a little farther than necessary, and let the shorts wedge themselves between my buttocks. I felt his gaze fixed on me, devouring me whole. The game made me so hot that I had to squeeze my thighs together.

“What an ass you have,” he murmured at last.

My mouth went dry, yet I got even wetter. Hearing him say that sent a direct jolt to my pussy. My grandmother came out into the courtyard at that moment and asked what he had said, but we both pretended everything was normal. He closed the window. I was left breathing hard, my panties stuck to me.

That night I masturbated while thinking about his perverted face watching me from above. At first I slipped my fingers inside slowly, remembering his voice, and ended up coming quickly, imagining those big hands gripping me by the waist.

***

The clearest opportunity came one weekend morning. My grandmother had to go with my father to a medical appointment, and she left Darío’s breakfast served so I could simply deliver it to him. Instead of putting on something decent, I went to open the door wearing a short, thin robe that clung almost to my body, without a bra, with a tiny thong underneath. It wasn’t an accident. I wanted to leave him breathless.

When he opened the door and saw me, I knew I’d succeeded. His eyes dropped from my cleavage to my legs and came back up. He didn’t hide a thing.

“Now that’s how you ruin my morning,” he said as he came in.

“I only came to bring you breakfast.”

“And I was only going to have breakfast, but now I’m thinking about something else.”

As I set the plate on the table, I felt his gaze burrowing beneath the fabric. Every time I bent over, his eyes fixed on my tits. Every time I turned, he looked at my ass. The silence between sentences was worse than the words. It was a charged, filthy, delicious silence.

“That robe looks far too good on you,” he finally said.

“Oh, really?”

“Yes. It makes me want to pull it up and see what you’re hiding underneath.”

I looked at him directly for the first time, with a mixture of nerves and boldness that even I could no longer pretend was anything else.

“And what if I’m not hiding much?”

Darío clenched his jaw. I saw him take a deep breath. He rose from his chair and came close enough for me to feel his heat, his scent of soap and coffee, the tension in his body.

“Don’t play with me like that,” he whispered in my ear.

“What if I want to?”

The slap on my ass caught me by surprise. It cracked sharply and loudly in the middle of the kitchen. I let out a gasp and felt the impact spread like a hot spark across my whole ass. Before I could say anything, he grabbed me by the waist and pressed me against the counter.

His hard cock was outlined against my buttocks through his trousers. I stayed still for barely a second; then I began rubbing myself against him, trying to feel the bulge better. His hand slipped under my robe, moved my thong aside, and found me soaked.

“Fuck, you’re dripping,” he murmured.

He thrust two fingers inside me and I arched against his chest. He pumped them quickly and forcefully, in and out of my wet pussy, while holding me around the stomach with his other hand. Each thrust drew a louder moan from me than the one before.

“So this is what you wanted,” he said against my neck. “You pretend to be innocent, but you’re wet as a whore.”

“Don’t talk so loudly,” I panted. “They might come back.”

“Then moan quietly.”

His hand worked without pause. He opened me with his fingers, probed inside me, brushed my clitoris with his thumb, and pushed his fingers back in until they were buried deep. I spread my legs farther and leaned back to feel his erection pressing against my ass. He was undoing me. I felt my legs beginning to tremble.

He pulled out his fingers, glistening with my juices, and placed them against my lips.

“Suck them.”

I put them in my mouth and tasted my own wetness without looking away from him. He let out a hoarse, almost disbelieving laugh.

“I knew you wanted me.”

“Then stop talking and fuck me.”

He was about to answer when we heard a car stop outside. We both tensed. He immediately stepped back and adjusted his trousers, while I pulled down my robe with clumsy hands. My heart was pounding so hard I felt anyone could hear it.

My father and grandmother came in a minute later. I was still worked up, my pussy throbbing, so I locked myself in the bathroom as soon as I could. There, under the water, I finished what Darío had started. I came with two fingers on my clitoris while thinking about his voice and the pressure of his cock against my buttocks.

***

From that moment on, there was no going back. We touched each other in secret whenever we could. A hand beneath the table while my grandmother served soup. A caress in the hallway. A quick slap on the ass as we passed. A stolen kiss behind the kitchen door. Every touch left me worse. I dressed for him: tiny shorts, tight dresses, thin fabrics without a bra. I wanted to drive him crazy, and I was succeeding.

One night, while we were having dinner, I sat beside him longer than necessary. My grandmother talked endlessly about one thing or another and he pretended to listen, but under the table his hand was between my thighs. He caressed the inside of my thigh with his fingertips, moving slowly upward until he found my wet thong.

He glanced at me and smiled.

“You can’t hold out at all,” he murmured, barely moving his lips.

I grabbed his bulge through his trousers. It was hard, thick, and hot. I began squeezing it gently and felt him swallow. My grandmother kept talking, unaware of everything, and that mixture of risk and lust had me burning.

The next day, when my grandmother went out to do some shopping, we were finally alone for longer. I was wearing a short, tight black dress clinging to my hips. As soon as the door closed, I walked toward the kitchen, knowing he was coming behind me. It took him no more than three steps to catch up.

He grabbed me by the waist and turned me toward him. We kissed hungrily, as if we had been holding ourselves back for months. His tongue entered my mouth without delicacy, mingling with mine, and I slipped my hands beneath his shirt to feel his hairy chest. He squeezed my buttocks hard, kneading them, and I rubbed my pelvis against his erection.

“Show it to me,” he said, panting against my mouth.

I lifted my dress without looking away, pulled my thong down to mid-thigh, and spread my legs. His hand went straight to my pussy. He slipped his fingers between my lips, opened me, stroked my clitoris, then penetrated me with two slow fingers, enjoying the way they sank inside.

“Fuck, you’re soaked.”

“Your fault.”

He brought my juices to his mouth and sucked them without taking his eyes off mine, then pushed his fingers inside me again, faster this time. I bit my lip to keep from moaning too loudly.

“Come upstairs tonight,” he ordered. “I want all of you, and I don’t want to rush.”

I nodded. There was nothing to think about. My pussy had been begging for it for days.

***

That night I waited until my grandmother fell asleep. The house grew quiet, and instead of putting on clothes to go out, I took everything off. I wore only a silk robe tied with a sash and a pair of slippers. I had nothing underneath. My nipples felt hard against the fabric, and my pussy had been wet even before I touched the door.

Darío opened almost immediately, as if he had been listening to my footsteps. I went in quickly and he closed the door behind me. We didn’t even need to speak. He looked me up and down, and I untied the robe. The silk slid to the floor, leaving me naked before him.

“Here I am,” I said. “Do what you’ve been imagining for days.”

He didn’t answer with words. He pushed me against the wall and kissed me violently, one hand on my neck, the other moving directly between my legs. He slipped in one finger, then two, pumping quickly while biting my mouth. I moaned openly, without restraint, because there was no one who could hear me except him.

“This is how I wanted you,” he murmured. “Naked, wet, and begging me for cock.”

“Yes,” I gasped. “I want your cock.”

He lifted me into his arms and carried me to the bedroom. He left me on the bed and spread my legs without ceremony. He knelt between them and began kissing the insides of my thighs slowly, making me wait exactly where I needed him most. His beard scraped my skin, and that friction made me even hotter.

When he finally licked my pussy, I nearly folded in half. He did it hungrily, opening me with his fingers so he could push his tongue deep inside, then moving up to my clitoris to suck it and barely bite it. I writhed across the sheets, gripping his head and opening myself wider for him.

“Don’t stop... don’t stop...” I repeated between moans.

His tongue went in and out, giving me long licks, then short, quick ones over my clitoris, before sinking back into my pussy while his fingers opened me wider. The sound of his mouth eating me was obscene. I was so wet I could feel it on my thighs, my ass, and the sheets. When he sucked my clitoris hard and pushed two fingers inside me at the same time, I exploded, trembling.

I came on his face with my legs shaking, letting out a moan I had to muffle by biting my fist. He didn’t pull away. He kept licking, drawing out every last shudder until he left me sensitive and half-crazy.

He climbed up, kissing my stomach and then my tits. He sucked my nipples one at a time, nibbled them, and moistened them with his tongue while his beard raised gooseflesh on my skin. I scratched his chest through his open shirt.

“Get naked already,” I begged.

He stood up and obeyed. He took off his clothes without looking away from me, and when he finally pulled out his cock, I understood why it had obsessed me so much. It was thick and long, with a large head and prominent veins. My mouth watered.

I knelt at the edge of the bed and took it in both hands. I gave him one first lick, from his balls to the tip, slowly, enjoying the way his thighs tensed. Then I put it in my mouth. I lowered myself little by little, taking as much as I could, playing my tongue over the head, sucking eagerly while jerking him off with my hand.

“Fuck... that’s it...” he growled.

I loved the way he sounded as he lost control. I sucked his cock noisily, without shame, pulling it out to lick the wet tip before taking it back into my mouth. One of his hands went to my hair, not to pull me away but to guide me a little deeper. I tasted his pre-cum and kept sucking him until his abdomen began to tremble.

“Stop, or I’m going to come right now.”

I looked at him with saliva on my lips and smiled.

“You’ll come wherever I tell you to.”

He lay down on the bed and pulled me over him. I positioned his cock at the entrance to my pussy and rubbed it between my lips, running the head over my clitoris. I was already so wet that it slipped on its own. He reached for a condom, but I stopped his hand.

“No. I want to feel all of it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Put it in.”

I lowered myself slowly onto his cock. The head opened me little by little, and I had to bite my lip because it really was thick. I felt the stretch, the full, delicious pressure, and continued lowering myself until almost all of it was inside me. I let out a sharp breath. He gripped my hips tightly.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.”

I began moving on top of him, slowly at first as I adjusted to the thickness, feeling him fill me more every time I rose and sank. Then I sped up. My hips found a rhythm and I couldn’t stop. I bounced on his cock while he watched my tits rise and fall, squeezed my ass, and guided my movements.

I drove myself deeper, rotating my pelvis so I could rub my clitoris against his pubic bone. Every thrust from below settled his cock more securely inside me. I leaned back, then forward to kiss his mouth and neck and bite his shoulder. He talked dirty to me, increasingly dirty, and it made me even hotter.

“Move, that’s it, ride that cock,” he growled. “You’ve wanted to eat it for days.”

“Yes... yes... I was dying for this.”

The bed creaked with my movements. I felt his cock striking deep inside me and my orgasm beginning to rise from my belly. When he brought one hand to my clitoris and began rubbing me in circles, I came almost instantly. I came on top of him, convulsing and squeezing his cock with my pussy as I moaned shamelessly.

He didn’t come yet. He turned me firmly, put me on all fours, and knelt behind me. I barely had time to get into position before he thrust it into me again in one stroke. The impact drew a cry from me.

“This is how I wanted to fuck you,” he said, gripping my hips. “Watching that ass of yours tremble.”

He began fucking me hard. Truly hard. His pelvis slammed against my buttocks again and again, wet with my juices, and the sound of the impacts filled the room. I gripped the sheets, burying my face in the pillow so I wouldn’t scream too loudly, while he opened me wider with every thrust.

He pounded me at a steady, merciless rhythm, pulling almost all the way out and driving back in until he was buried deep. I felt myself leaking inside and out, my pussy clinging to that thick cock, my legs trembling. One of his hands released my hip only to grab one of my breasts and squeeze it; then it moved down to my clitoris and began rubbing it while he kept drilling me.

“Do you like it this way?”

“Yes... yes... more... don’t stop...”

I came again on all fours, my knees weak and my pussy squeezing around him in spasms. That pushed him to the edge. I felt him lose his rhythm for a second, breathe more harshly, and grip me harder.

He turned me again and left me on my back at the edge of the bed. He lifted my legs and draped them over his shoulders. From there he opened me completely. He entered me again and began thrusting while watching his cock disappear inside me.

It was a brutal position. Every thrust reached deeper, direct and powerful, and all I could do was cling to the sheets and take it. I licked my lips and watched him fuck me, and that alone almost made me come again. He was sweating, jaw clenched, his eyes fixed on me.

“Squeeze,” he ordered.

I obeyed. I closed my pussy around his cock and Darío let out a hoarse growl. He drilled me a few more times, completely out of control now, and came in a long shudder, buried to the hilt. I felt him release hot inside me while I trembled again, carried along by his orgasm.

We stayed like that for a few seconds, breathing hard, my body still open beneath his. When he pulled out, a mixture of semen and juices slid down my thighs. He ran two fingers through it, gathered what was dripping, and showed it to me with a satisfied smile.

“Look at the state you’re in.”

I put those fingers in my mouth without taking my eyes off his. His laugh was almost a moan.

Afterward he kissed me slowly, as if there were time now. I caressed his half-hard cock, kissed its tip, and gave him another blowjob, slower and dirtier, simply because I liked watching him surrender again between my lips. He didn’t come that time, but he was left trembling.

***

I returned to my grandmother’s apartment with shaky legs and a sensitive pussy. I walked slowly so I wouldn’t give myself away. I climbed into bed with a stupid smile, still smelling him on my skin, still feeling his thrusts in my body.

The most absurd thing happened the next day. During breakfast, my grandmother remarked quite calmly:

“Last night I thought I heard a woman moaning.”

I almost choked on my coffee.

“I didn’t hear anything, Grandma,” I said, lowering my eyes so she wouldn’t see me blushing.

Darío came in to eat a few minutes later. He sat down as if nothing had happened, but the moment our eyes met, we both had to hold back our laughter. Under the table he brushed my knee with his. I squeezed my thighs together and remembered exactly how he had left me.

It wasn’t the only time. Every visit to my grandmother’s house became an excuse to do it again. Sometimes in his apartment, sometimes with the urgency of the kitchen, sometimes stealing caresses while someone might walk in. It lasted until he moved away. And although a long time has passed, whenever I remember that first night in his bed, my pussy still gets wet just as it did then.

That’s why I’m telling it this way, without lies. Because it was a confession of pure desire: I provoked him, he played along, and when he finally fucked me the way I had been begging for days, I knew the wait had been worth every damn drop of anxiety.