The Free Afternoon That Ended with Him in My Mouth

This happened seven or eight years ago, when we were still in high school. Martín and I had started dating at eighteen, and we’d already been together for almost a year. We were in the same class, at a school in a quiet town in the northern suburbs, near the river, and we always sat together at the back of the classroom.

It was common for a teacher to be absent and for us to be left with one or two free periods. Most of the time we killed the time in the courtyard and then went back to class as if nothing had happened. But that afternoon was different.

The literature teacher had called in sick, and she taught the last three periods, from two to five. At our age they already let us sign out early when there were no classes after that. So we took advantage of it.

What we had was fully approved at home. We’d known each other since we were little, our families got along well, both middle-class, hardworking people. We both did well at school, though he did much better than I did. I passed everything, some subjects with high marks and others just scraping by. There was no reason for anyone to put obstacles in our way.

We had both realized, separately, something very simple: if our parents trusted us, we could do practically whatever we wanted, as long as we didn’t go too far. And I treated that trust like a treasure.

I sent my mom a WhatsApp message saying we were getting out early. I told her I was going to have a snack at Martín’s place and that he was going to help me with a math project, which was the subject I struggled with most. The subject part was true, but the truth was I didn’t need help: I could handle it myself. It was the perfect excuse to spend the afternoon with him, to fuck in peace for the first time.

I’d done the math right. My mom got off work at five, picked up my little sister from school, and didn’t get home before 6:20. My dad didn’t get back until 7:30. I had the whole afternoon ahead of me.

***

Martín’s house was a few blocks away, in a nice area near the coast. It was empty too, because his parents worked late and he was an only child. We poured ourselves something to drink, grabbed a few random things from the fridge, and went up to his room on the upper floor.

That part of the house was our refuge. We put on music and threw ourselves on the bed to make out, just like so many other times. The usual: I’d run my hand over his pants, he’d touch my tits over my bra, and we’d promise each other eternal love between kisses. I’d squeezed the bulge over his school pants fabric several times, feeling him harden under my hand, but we had never gone beyond that.

In the middle of all that groping he asked if he could stay in his boxer briefs. Red with embarrassment, I said yes. He took off the gray uniform pants and stayed like that, with the school shirt on and nothing else underneath. The fabric of his boxers was stretched tight over an erection that showed through completely, the tip pushing upward and a little wet spot where the glans pressed. We kept kissing for a while and, almost in a whisper, he asked if I could touch it.

I looked him in the eye. I was dying to, but I was nervous too.

—Okay, but show me, because I don’t know how —I said, laughing to hide it.

By then I was already soaked. I could feel my panties stuck to my cunt, the fabric nearly transparent from how wet it was, and every time I squeezed my thighs together I got jolts shooting up through my stomach. We were both on his bed, me still fully dressed in my uniform and him in his boxers. He pulled them down slowly, and that was when I saw my first dick in real life. It sprang out in one motion when he freed it from the elastic, hard, pointing at the ceiling, with thick veins running along the shaft and the glans swollen, red, shiny with a drop of pre-cum hanging from the tip. It seemed huge to me. Later I found out it was about sixteen centimeters, and thick, much thicker than I had imagined.

I put my hand on it and wrapped my fingers around it. They didn’t even reach all the way around. The skin was soft, warm, but underneath it felt hard as iron. I started moving it up and down, slowly, pulling back the foreskin and leaving that shiny glans exposed on every downward stroke. His moans confirmed I was on the right track. When I ran my thumb over the tip, another clear drop escaped and I smeared it all over the head, and he gave little hip twitches, wanting more pressure.

—Like that, the way you’re doing it, don’t stop —he whispered.

A few minutes passed —I don’t know if it was two or ten, I lost all sense of time— and then he told me, with a mix of love and desire in his eyes:

—I really want you to suck it.

***

I stayed silent for a second. I was terrified of doing it wrong, but at the same time I had a curiosity that was burning me from the inside. I wanted to know what it felt like to have the cock of the person you love in your mouth.

I slid down the bed and settled between his open legs. There it was, right in front of me, throbbing on its own, hard, pointing at my face. I brought my lips to it slowly and kissed the tip. When I did, he jolted as if a current had run through his whole body. I stayed still for an instant, looking at him, and took a deep breath. The smell hit me full on: it smelled like him, like warm skin, like something thick and masculine I had never smelled before. I don’t know how to explain what I felt: that smell made me wetter than I thought possible. It was instant, almost animal. My cunt tightened on its own, as if asking for something to fill it.

I started licking it little by little, like it was an ice cream, while I held it in my right hand. I ran my tongue along the thick vein that ran down the shaft, from base to tip, and there I stopped to lick the glans in circles. Then I grabbed his balls with my other hand, gently bouncing them in my palm, and he let out a long moan. Until I got brave enough and put it in my mouth. The taste made me shiver. Salty, a little bitter, with that thick drop melting over my tongue. It didn’t taste like anything I had ever had before or anything I’d ever taste after, but it stirred a desire in me I had never imagined.

I started sucking it for real. I lowered my head as far as I could, closed my lips around it tight, and came back up sucking hard. My tongue moved on its own against the underside of the glans, searching for that spot that made him writhe. While I had it in my mouth I heard his moans, felt his fingers stroking my hair, and how he told me in a low voice that he loved me, not to stop, that he loved my mouth. It was too much feeling concentrated into just a few seconds. I felt desired in a new way.

—Look at me while you suck me —he asked, voice rough.

I lifted my eyes without taking him out of my mouth. He was biting his lip, face red and eyes only half open. Seeing him like that, so surrendered, made a moan slip out of me with his cock in my mouth, and that vibration made him shudder all over.

To be honest, only a few centimeters fit in. I couldn’t take him all the way —it took me several months to learn how to deep-throat him to the base— so I made up for it with my hand, wrapping it around him and moving it in rhythm with my mouth, just like I’d seen in some porn video I’d spied on one night with my phone under the sheets. Saliva started running down my chin and along the shaft, and all that wetness made my hand slide better. His cock was left shining, wet, slippery.

Without even noticing, I slipped my free hand under my skirt and into my panties. I was soaked, literally dripping, and when I touched my clit I had to stifle a moan against Martín’s cock. I was touching myself while sucking him, and he noticed and said, almost out of breath:

—Are you touching yourself? God, you’re the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.

***

And while I was doing it, I couldn’t stop the thoughts running through my head. How can it be that I, a good girl, have this cock in my mouth, sucking it like a slut and touching my cunt at the same time? All my friends were virgins, and the few girls in the older grades who had done things were called a thousand nasty names. Was I one of them now?

But instead of making me ashamed, that idea turned me on even more. In that moment I felt free, desired, powerful. I realized that with my mouth I had him completely at my mercy. And I thought: if this, which is the first time and I’m doing it as best I can, already makes him shake like this, imagine when I’m an expert at sucking dick. He’s going to be stuck to me forever.

After a few minutes I started getting tired. These are muscles a girl never trains, so I would pause now and then, keep going with my hand —wrapping it tightly, closing my fist and twisting it slightly on each upward stroke— and then go back to putting it in my mouth. During one of those breaks, while I was licking his balls and running my tongue along the base, Martín did something I still remember today with my heart clenched: he grabbed my face, pulled me toward him, and kissed me long and passionately, tongue and all, not caring that I still had the taste of his cock in my mouth, as if nothing before had dirtied him.

I had always thought guys didn’t kiss after something like that. I guess it was an idea I’d picked up from those videos where they treat women like objects. The fact that he kissed me like that melted me. I went back down, crazy with love, and took his cock as deep as I could, deeper than before, until the tip touched the back of my palate and tears slipped out of my eyes. I held it like that for a few seconds, swallowing saliva around the shaft, feeling it throb inside my mouth. He let out a muffled “holy shit” and dug his fingers into my hair.

I started going up and down faster, sucking hungrily, twisting my hand at the base in time with my mouth. The whole bed smelled like us: saliva, semen still to come, the uniform perfume mixed with my sweat. I kept touching myself, and every time I ran my tongue over his frenulum I squeezed my clit with two fingers and got a jolt between my legs.

***

After a while he started warning me he was about to finish, that he couldn’t hold on much longer. And here comes the weird part: even though I understood exactly what he was saying, I didn’t fully realize what was about to happen. He kept repeating it —“I’m gonna cum, baby, I’m gonna cum in your mouth”— I think to give me time to pull away, but I didn’t move. On the contrary, I sucked harder, my hand moving fast at the base, my lips pressed tight against the shaft.

I felt his cock swell even more inside my mouth, felt it pound against my tongue, and that turned me on a lot. A second later came the first wave: a warm, thick spurt that hit the roof of my mouth. Then another, and another, and another. Four or five waves of hot semen that filled my mouth completely. Surprised, I swallowed almost all of it, feeling it go thick down my throat; some escaped from the corner of my mouth, ran down my chin in a thin line, and dropped onto the uniform shirt. He kept moaning, his hips pushing on their own, and I kept sucking him slowly, milking the last drops out of him until he emptied inside my mouth.

When I pulled his cock out, still hard but calmer now, I kissed the tip and licked away a white drop that was left there. He was shaking all over, thighs tense and skin goosebumped.

The taste didn’t disgust me, but it didn’t drive me wild either. Thick, salty, with something faintly sweet underneath. Still, I experienced it as something positive, almost like a victory. I liked having gone all the way, having swallowed his load in my very first blowjob.

Martín looked at me, smiled, and said:

—You look beautiful like that, with my cum on your face.

Mortified, I wiped myself with my hand, licked my fingers without thinking, and hid the stain on my shirt.

***

We stayed wrapped around each other, kissing, his hand under my skirt stroking me slowly over my soaked panties, until it was time for me to leave. I wanted to get home before my mom, mainly so she wouldn’t have to call me and everything could stay calm. Martín walked me part of the way; it was only a few blocks, a fifteen-minute walk. He kissed me at the door and went back.

A little later my mom got home with my sister. She made the little one a chocolate milk and me a café con leche, and started organizing dinner. I was somewhere else, with the taste of Martín’s cum still at the back of my mouth, replaying the afternoon in my head, when my sister pointed at me:

—You got your shirt dirty, dummy.

I looked down and almost died. There it was, the stain, whitish, already dry. I laughed with all the nerves in the world and told her it was café con leche. Luckily, she believed me.

That night, before sleeping, I got one last message from him: “You’re the best, you give the best kisses.” I read it three times, smiling to myself in the dark.

Then I turned off the light, slipped my panties down under the sheets, and let the memories of that afternoon take me. I slid two fingers into my cunt while I rubbed my clit with the other hand, thinking about how his cock had swelled inside my mouth, the taste of semen sliding down my throat, how he looked at me while I sucked him. I had a huge orgasm, biting the pillow so I wouldn’t scream, one of those that leaves you trembling and your cunt leaking onto the sheet, and I fell asleep with a smile that lasted until the next day.

It was my first time. And even though so many years have passed, I still remember it as one of the most intense moments of my life.