The Night I Told Him About My First Time with Someone Else

There are things about the people you love that you only discover by accident. Diego and I had been together for almost five years when I found something in him I hadn’t expected: that my memories turned him on more than any expensive lingerie or any porn movie we might watch on a Friday night.

I wouldn’t have found out if it hadn’t been for a bottle of Malbec we started at ten and finished at one.

That night we’d had dinner late, just the two of us at home, something that hadn’t happened since both our work schedules had become impossible. I’d cooked something simple, lit a couple of candles left over from who knows when, and when we sat down on the sofa with full glasses there was a looseness in the air we hadn’t had in a long time. One of those moments when the silence between two people weighs nothing.

—Can I ask you something? —he said, turning the glass between his fingers.

—Sure —I answered, with no idea what was coming.

—What was your first time like?

I looked at him. Diego had that expression I knew well by then: curious but not urgent, the same face he made when he wanted to know something but didn’t want to press. In five years he had never asked me that directly. We talked about the past sometimes, but always superficially, never really diving in.

The wine had loosened the usual knot I carry in my chest when something makes me uncomfortable.

—Do you really want to know?

—Really —he said.

—Everything? Even how he fucked me for the first time?

I saw his Adam’s apple move as he swallowed.

—Everything —he said, his voice a shade lower.

I took a slow sip. And I started telling him.

***

I should start with myself, because context matters. I’m short, with wide hips and legs that have always drawn comments. I don’t have much ass, but I have big tits that never go unnoticed: white, heavy, with pink nipples that go hard at the slightest change in temperature. From the age of sixteen I knew they attracted attention, though it took me much longer to fully understand the effect they had on men, the way they looked at my mouth and then dropped straight to my nipples without even trying to hide it.

I also learned early on that my body was mine to get to know. I masturbated alone long before anyone else touched me, so when the time came, I didn’t show up without a map. I knew exactly how to touch my clit to make myself come, I knew how to slide two fingers deep inside and curl them, I knew how hard to squeeze my nipples to make my back arch. I arrived, really, with a lot of curiosity, my thighs always wet and very few inhibitions.

I was twenty-one when I met Sebastián. I saw him for the first time at a gathering of mutual friends, one of those nights when you go without wanting to and end up staying until three in the morning because something in the atmosphere holds you there. He was twenty-seven, with slightly long dark hair and a way of listening that made you feel what you said actually mattered. He wasn’t the most eye-catching man in the room, but he was the only one asking real questions, the only one who remembered the next day what you had told him the night before. And he had big hands, long-fingered hands, that I couldn’t stop looking at while imagining where they would end up.

We went out alone twice before anything happened. The third time, at his apartment, we both already knew what that night was for. I’d put on new panties and bra, black, and I’d shaved until my pussy was completely smooth. I was determined for that to be the night.

***

When I started describing that to Diego, I paused for a moment to watch him. He was still, with the glass resting on his knee, and there was something in his eyes that wasn’t just polite attention. I looked down at his crotch without hiding it: he already had a visible bulge straining against his pants.

He’s liking this, I thought. He’s getting hard.

That loosened something inside me. I felt my cunt start to heat up just from noticing the effect my words were having on him. I kept going.

I told him that that afternoon at Sebastián’s apartment, the conversation hadn’t lasted long. We were sitting on the floor with music in the background and at some point he brought his hand up to my face, slowly, and kissed me without asking permission but without rushing either. A kiss that started soft and grew until his tongue slipped into my mouth and started rolling against mine with a hunger that made me squeeze my thighs together. When he pulled back to breathe, he bit my lower lip and tugged, and I felt a throb between my legs so strong I had to brace myself against his chest because my legs gave out.

What I hadn’t yet told Diego was that I had gone into that afternoon without being entirely clear on what was going to happen. I knew my own body, yes, but I’d never had a real cock inside me. And yet, when Sebastián took me by the shoulders and laid me back on the rug, I wasn’t afraid. I felt something closer to urgency. And a crazy need for him to fuck me properly, and right now.

Sebastián didn’t have the haste of someone inexperienced. He took his time, first kissing my neck down over my collarbone, then unbuttoning my shirt one button at a time, without the clumsy frenzy I’d imagined that moment would have. When he opened it and saw my black bra, he let out a slow breath through his nose. Then, with his hands on my waist, he leaned back a little to look at me. Not clinically, but like someone calculating something and wanting the other person to know it too.

—You’ve got beautiful tits —he said, and unclasped my bra from the back in one motion.

When he got to my tits, he didn’t ignore them or treat them like a formality. He took them in both hands, squeezed them as if weighing them, then took one nipple fully into his mouth and sucked it until it stood hard against his tongue. Then the other. He bit me, licked me, squeezed one with his hand while he worked the other with his teeth, and what that did to me was send a current straight from my chest to my cunt, where I was already feeling wetness running down my thigh from the moment we started kissing.

—You want it in detail? —I asked Diego.

—Every detail —he said, his voice rough—. Every last one.

I could see he was no longer comfortable under his pants. He had his cock pressed hard against the fabric, outlined completely.

***

I reached out and squeezed him over his pants without stopping talking. I could feel how hard he was beneath my palm. Diego closed his eyes for a second and opened them again, fixed on me. I pulled down his zipper, reached into his boxer briefs, and took him out. He was hot and leaking a thick drop at the tip. I wrapped my fingers around him and started stroking him up and down, slowly, while I kept telling him.

I told him that Sebastián, before anything else, had pulled down my wet panties and settled himself between my legs. That he’d opened my pussy lips with two fingers and looked at me for a second before lowering his head. That he licked my clit with the tip of his tongue, first in circles, then up and down, while he slid in two curled fingers that hit exactly where they were supposed to. That he sucked my cunt with a patience I hadn’t expected, no rush, stopping every time he felt I was about to come, blowing on my swollen clit and starting again. Until I was so close to the edge I had to pull his hair and ask him to stop.

—Why? —Diego asked, his breathing broken by my hand that wouldn’t let go of his cock.

—Because I wanted to come with him inside me, not with his tongue —I replied.

He clenched his teeth. I felt him harden even more in my hand, and another thick drop came out of the tip. I spread it with my thumb.

I kept talking. I told him Sebastián was long, longer than I had imagined a cock could be. That when I pulled it out of his pants for the first time I didn’t really know what to do, that it was thick and the veins stood out on it, and that I took it in hand clumsily but with a lot of eagerness. That he guided me without words, just moving his hand over mine until he showed me how he liked to be jerked off: with a tight, firm hand and a twist of the wrist when I reached the tip. That then he grabbed me by the hair at the nape of my neck, not yanking, just holding me, and I understood. That I took him into my mouth because I wanted to, not because he asked me to, and that he let out a deep moan the first time he felt my tongue against the frenulum. That I took him in as far as I could, that I arched, my eyes filled with tears, but I kept going, sucking with my mouth and pumping the base with my hand, and he rested his hand on my head without pressing, just leaving it there like a soft guide, setting the rhythm for me.

Diego shifted on the sofa. Now he was closer to me, and he’d pulled his pants down to his thighs.

—Go on —he murmured—. Don’t stop, tell me everything.

When Sebastián fucked me for the first time, he did it slowly. He laid me on my back on the rug, spread my legs with his knees, and started sliding into me little by little. So slowly I had time to notice every part of it, to feel how my cunt yielded and adapted to that cock that was at once strange and exactly what I’d been waiting for. There was a brief moment of discomfort when he pushed all the way in and hit something inside me no one had ever touched before, but it disappeared as soon as he stopped, looked at me, and said, “Good?”

“Yes,” I told him. “Fuck me.” And it was true.

Diego, while I said this, had closed his eyes. I kept jerking him slowly, running my thumb over the tip each time I reached the top, and I could feel his breathing getting shorter, more broken. He was wet and hot as hell in my hand.

—Don’t stop —he murmured—. Please, don’t stop telling me.

—I won’t stop —I promised—. He started thrusting into me. Soft at first, then harder. Every time he drove all the way in, I felt a punch against my womb that made me cry out. My tits bounced with every thrust and he watched them nonstop while he fucked me.

***

I told him Sebastián changed positions at some point. That he asked me to turn over with a calm that wasn’t coldness but control, that he took me by the hips and put me on all fours on the rug. And that this second part had been completely different: more intense, deeper, with a cock that now went into places I hadn’t known existed. He grabbed me by the hair at the nape of my neck and pulled back while he fucked me, and that combination of slight pain and deep pleasure finished driving me crazy.

I told him I grabbed the edge of the rug with both hands so I wouldn’t slide with each thrust. That he slapped my ass, not hard, just enough for the sound to mingle with the slapping wet noises of my soaked cunt. That I moaned without caring about anything, screamed “harder, deeper,” and he obeyed me. That at some point I stopped thinking about what I was doing or whether I was doing it right, and I was simply there, in that body, on that cock coming in and out of me, in that room with the afternoon light slanting in through the apartment window. That he slipped a thumb, slick with saliva, into my ass while he kept fucking my cunt, and that that double sensation was what finally set me on fire.

And that when I came, it was so different from anything I knew about myself that it took several seconds to understand what had happened. As if the body knew something the mind was still processing. I felt my whole cunt clenching around his cock, contraction after contraction, and he hissed “fuck” through his teeth because I squeezed him so hard he almost came right there. I stayed still, moaning softly, toes stretched out, ass still lifted, face hidden in my arm.

—How many times? —Diego asked in a rough voice, and I felt his cock contract in my hand.

—Twice —I said—. The second came without warning, when he flipped me over again and kept fucking me while sucking one nipple. I came so hard I screamed, and that was when he couldn’t hold back anymore. He pulled out, climbed over my tits, and came in bursts over them, groaning. He covered my neck, my mouth, my nipples. Then he cleaned me with two fingers and put them in my mouth so I’d suck his cum off them.

He let out a deep sound from the bottom of his chest. I felt his hand on my hip, firm, pulling me toward him on the sofa with a force that left no room for argument.

—Get up —he said.

—For what?

—Take everything off. Now. You’ll finish telling me afterward. Right now come here and sit on my cock.

***

I stood up, pulled my dress over my head, and stood naked in front of him. I’d taken off my panties a while ago, soaked, and tossed them onto the table. Diego looked at my tits with that face he makes when he’s not thinking anymore, then let his gaze drop to my smooth, shiny cunt glistening with juice. He licked his lips.

—Come here —he said.

I sat on top of Diego and took his cock in my hand to line it up with my cunt. I lowered myself slowly, feeling myself opening, letting him in centimeter by centimeter the way I’d described Sebastián doing years before. But Diego and that memory were very different things: Diego’s cock was thicker, more familiar, and my cunt knew it so well it responded before he did anything. It squeezed on its own, sucked him in, took him with everything it had.

I started moving up and down, slowly, feeling him fill me completely with each descent. Diego grabbed my tits with both hands, pinched my nipples between his fingers and twisted them a little, and I cried out and dug my nails into his chest.

We moved in silence at first, with only the light from the candles still burning on the table. I rose and sank, he pushed upward to meet me, and both of us made those slapping, wet sounds a well-soaked cunt makes when it’s fucked hard. Then he took my face in both hands and whispered in my ear for me to keep going. Not to stop talking.

—Tell me more —he panted—. While I fuck you, tell me more.

I picked up the story again, my voice broken by what was happening between us, by his cock driving into me with every movement.

I told him that Sebastián, after filling my tits, had dragged me to the bathroom and we’d both gotten into the shower. That there, with hot water pouring down, he had sucked my cunt again standing up, kneeling in front of me, until he made me come a third time with one leg resting over his shoulder. And that then, before we got out, I jerked him off under the water myself, looking him in the eyes, until he came against my stomach.

—Son of a bitch —Diego growled, and he drove his cock all the way into me with one thrust that made my back arch.

I also told him that Sebastián, when it was over, had asked me how I felt. That the question seemed strange to me at the time, almost funny, and yet I remembered it exactly because no other man had ever asked me that afterward. That I told him the truth: it had been better than I expected. That I already wanted him to fuck me again.

And that he laughed, satisfied but not arrogant, and said that was exactly what he’d expected me to say.

Diego grabbed my waist with both hands and started moving me up and down on his cock at a rhythm that was no longer mine.

—And did you suck him again? —he asked between thrusts.

—That same night I sucked him three more times —I said, biting his neck—. And he came once in my mouth and once in my ass.

—That’s it —he growled—, that last part, tell me later in detail. For now give me your mouth.

***

He grabbed me by the nape of the neck and kissed me like he was devouring me, thrusting his tongue deep into my mouth while he kept fucking me from below. Then he pulled me off him, turned me over on the sofa, and put me on all fours over the cushions. He grabbed my hips and drove back into me in one hard thrust, all the way in, and I screamed against the sofa back.

—This is where I wanted you —he said, and started pounding into me full force, without holding back.

I could feel his cock coming in and out of me with louder and louder wet slaps. My tits swung with each thrust, nipples brushing the sofa fabric. He grabbed my hair at the nape of my neck and pulled back, just like Sebastián had done years before, and the coincidence lit me on fire.

—Tell me how he fucked you —he growled—. Say it with the same words.

—The way you’re fucking me now —I gasped—. But deeper. But harder.

—I can fix that.

And he slammed into me even harder, until I felt the first shiver of orgasm rising up from my feet. We reached the edge almost without noticing, in one of those moments when the body gets ahead of any conscious intention. I screamed his name into the cushion, feeling my cunt clenching around his cock, wave after wave, and he held me with both hands as if something would break if he let go. Two more thrusts and I felt him explode inside me, filling me with hot jets while he growled with his face buried in my back. We didn’t speak. No need.

Afterward we stayed still for a long while, him still inside me, my cunt still squeezing him in spasms. His semen started dripping down my thighs when he pulled out. The ragged breathing slowly eased. The candles nearly burned out. And Diego’s glass, spilled on the rug, which neither of us had noticed once all night.

—Did you know? —I asked when I got my voice back, turning around and settling naked against his chest—. Did you know this would happen to you when you heard me?

Diego took a moment before answering. He was tracing a finger over my nipple, wet with sweat and semen.

—I suspected it —he said—. I’d just never dared ask you. I thought you’d be offended.

I lifted my face to look at him. He had that expression that only appears afterward, relaxed and honest, stripped of all the layers we wear during the day.

—I’ve got more stories —I said, and I took his soft, sticky cock in my hand—. Way dirtier than this one.

He felt my hand and moved a little again beneath my fingers.

He smiled in a way that wasn’t just satisfaction.

—I know. And I want to hear them all. One each night.

***

That night I understood that what turned Diego on wasn’t the past itself. It wasn’t the details of another cock or any implied comparison. It was me talking about something intimate. My voice describing how I’d been licked, how I’d been fucked, how I’d come with other men, while my cunt was right there with him, in the present, squeezing his cock. It was a way of knowing me he hadn’t had access to until that night. And I, who hadn’t been looking for it either, discovered that being known like that turned me on a lot.

That I liked giving him that. That I liked watching him get hard listening to me and knowing that hardness was because of me, my words, my history.

Since then, when there’s wine and silence and we’re both alone, Diego sometimes asks me in my ear, with his hand already between my legs: “Tell me something?”

And I always tell him. Every detail. Every last one.