The Night of Costumes When I Crossed My Final Boundary
It was one of those cool late-autumn nights, the kind when the air is already asking for a jacket but you refuse to cover your cleavage. My friends and I had spent weeks planning to go in costume to the biggest party in the city. And then, one by one, they started dropping out: work, a cold, dinner with the mother-in-law. By nine on Friday night, I was alone.
I stood in front of the wardrobe mirror, looking myself up and down. A short, tight skirt, knee-high boots, a top that left very little to the imagination, and a tilted cowgirl hat crowning the whole outfit. I had spent two afternoons putting that costume together. It seemed criminal to leave it hanging there.
I thought about staying in, putting on my pajamas, opening a bottle of wine, and watching whatever was on TV until I fell asleep. But something inside me rebelled against the idea. I was young, single, and desperately wanted the night to mean something. I ordered a cab before I could change my mind.
If no one is coming with me, I’m going alone. Period.
The place was packed. Colored lights flashing across the ceiling, music pounding right into my chest, people dressed as absolutely anything you could imagine, dancing as if the world were going to end at dawn. I ordered a cocktail at the bar, let the first sip go down slowly, and plunged into the middle of the crowd, moving to the beat and feeling the alcohol release my nerves one by one.
It didn’t take me long to notice him.
He was on the other side of the dance floor, dressed as a vampire, wearing a half-unbuttoned black shirt and a cape hanging off one shoulder with a studied air of carelessness. He wasn’t wearing ridiculous fangs or over-the-top makeup: just himself, his marked neck, a crooked smile. Our eyes met once. Then again. The third time, we both stopped pretending it was coincidence.
He came closer little by little, weaving through bodies without taking his eyes off mine. When he finally reached me, the music was so loud we could barely speak. He had to lean in until his lips brushed my ear.
“My name’s Damián,” he said. “Does the cowgirl have a name, or does she prefer to keep it mysterious?”
I laughed more than the line deserved. I told him my name, and he pretended not to hear it properly so I would repeat it twice more, closer to him. He was clumsy and brazen at the same time, and I found the combination irresistible.
We danced for quite a while. We ordered another couple of drinks. At some point his hands found my waist, and I did nothing to move them; on the contrary, I settled against him as if that spot had been waiting for me all night. The atmosphere grew hotter with every song, and I felt the heat gathering in places a cocktail couldn’t reach. During one turn in the music, he pressed against me from behind, and I felt the unmistakable hard bulge of his cock grinding against my ass over my skirt. I didn’t pull away. Instead, I pushed my hips back, rubbing myself against him slowly, and heard him let out a hoarse moan against the nape of my neck.
I was the one who dared to make the first move. I rose onto my toes, spoke into his ear, and told him I lived ten minutes away. He pulled back just enough to look into my eyes, checking that I was serious. When he saw that I was, his smile widened.
“Then let’s get out of here before you change your mind,” he replied.
***
We left the place holding hands, laughing at nothing like two teenagers. Outside, the cold air struck my bare legs and made me press myself against him. We walked the ten minutes, kissing on every corner, with no hurry and all the hurry in the world at the same time. In a dark doorway, he cornered me against the wall and slipped his hand beneath my skirt, straight in, without asking. When his fingers brushed the fabric of my thong and he felt how soaked I was, a growl escaped against my mouth.
“Fuck, look at you,” he whispered. “You’re going to finish me before we even get there.”
In the elevator of my building, we couldn’t hold out any longer. I kissed him against the mirror, bit his lip, grabbed his cock through his pants, and squeezed it with my whole hand. It was rock-hard, so thick I could barely wrap my hand around it. His hands slid down my back to the edge of my skirt, yanked it up, and he groped my bare ass with both hands until I was breathless. When the doors opened on my floor, we stumbled out almost still attached. I got the key in on the third try because my fingers were shaking.
As soon as I shut the door, his mouth was back on mine, this time with a different hunger, more urgent. We stripped off our costumes as we went down the hallway: the cape fell first, then my hat rolled across the floor, and the boots were left lying halfway there. His hands slipped beneath my top, yanked it up over my tits, and he tore off my bra with two fingers. He crouched right there and took one entire nipple into his mouth, sucking hard and nibbling while his other hand pinched the other one. I arched my back with a moan that rose from my stomach.
We reached the bedroom amid stumbling and muffled laughter. He threw me onto my back on the bed, yanked off my skirt, and left me lying there wearing only my thong. He stood over me for a second, breathing hard, and unbuttoned his pants. When he lowered his boxers and his cock sprang free, my mouth went dry. It was thick and long, with a gleaming head and a prominent vein underneath. Without thinking, I sat up, knelt at the edge of the bed, and took it in both hands.
“Come here,” I said, and without waiting for an answer, I put it in my mouth as far as I could.
I sucked him hungrily, my lips clamped tightly around his shaft as I moved my head up and down, letting a strand of saliva run down to his balls. I licked those too, one by one, then swallowed his cock again until it hit the back of my throat and made my eyes water. Damián grabbed my hair with one hand and began setting the pace, fucking my mouth slowly at first, harder afterward, panting like an animal.
“That’s it, fuck, that’s it, keep sucking me like that. You’ve got a filthy mouth.”
When he felt himself about to come, he pulled my hair back to take his cock out and shoved me onto my back on the bed. He tore my thong to one side, spread my legs wide, and went down on my pussy without warning. His tongue went in and out, then rose to suck my clit with a force that made my whole body arch, while two of his fingers slipped inside me and began pumping, searching for a spot that made me scream. I pressed his head against me with both hands, moving my hips against his face without the slightest shame.
“Don’t stop, don’t stop, I’m going to come, don’t stop…”
I came in his mouth like that, my legs trembling around his ears, soaking his chin, and he stayed there licking through every last contraction, swallowing everything, looking up at me with those dark eyes. Before I had caught my breath, he was already climbing on top of me. He gripped his cock, ran it up and down my pussy lips, coating it with my juices, and drove it all the way inside me in a single thrust.
I screamed. I felt it reach so deep that my breath caught. He started fucking me hard from the very beginning, no transition, braced on his arms, delivering long thrusts that shook my whole body against the mattress. I dug my nails into his back, moaning every time he drove into me, feeling his cock split me open inside with every push.
“That’s how I like it, that’s it, riding you the way you’re supposed to be ridden,” I panted in his ear. “Fuck me harder. Don’t hold back.”
He obeyed. He grabbed the backs of my knees, folded my legs against my chest, and increased the pace until the bed frame began banging against the wall. His balls slapped against my ass with every thrust, and I could hear the wet noise of my pussy squelching around his cock. Then he turned me over in one quick movement, put me on all fours, positioned himself behind me, and drove it in again. From that angle I felt it even deeper. He gripped my hips with both hands and began hammering me without mercy, pulling almost all the way out and driving back in to the hilt.
Just when everything was growing more intense, he slowed down. He rested his forehead against my nape, catching his breath, and glanced at me with a mischievous smile that promised nothing innocent.
“Hey,” he murmured hoarsely, still inside me, rocking slowly. “Have you ever tried it from behind?”
I froze for one whole second.
I never had. It was something that had always intimidated me, one of those things I had only heard about or read in some story at three in the morning, promising myself that one day, perhaps, I would. But that day had never come.
I hesitated. My mind raced, calculating, weighing fear against desire. And that night, desire was winning by a mile. Curiosity was devouring me, and the excitement of the moment was pushing hard.
If not now, when?
“All right,” I said, surprising myself. “But slowly. Very slowly.”
He nodded with an almost tender seriousness, as if he understood exactly how much I was entrusting to him. He carefully withdrew his cock from my pussy and left a wet kiss on the small of my back. I reached toward the bedside table, opened the drawer, and took out a bottle of lubricant that had been unopened for months. I handed it to him. Damián opened it, poured a generous amount onto his fingers, and warmed it by rubbing them together.
I turned onto my stomach, hugging the pillow, my ass slightly raised and my heart pounding in my throat. His fingers began massaging my asshole with a patience I hadn’t expected, spreading the lubricant in slow circles, in no hurry at all. First on the outside, coating me well, then he began easing the tip of one finger inside, slowly, to the first knuckle, waiting for me to adjust. When I relaxed, he slid the whole finger in and moved it gently inside me, opening me up. Then he added a second finger, and I squeezed the pillow with a muffled moan, caught between the burning and something new I was already beginning to like far too much. Whenever he felt me tense, he stopped and waited for me to breathe.
“Tell me if you don’t like something,” he said quietly, kissing my shoulder. “We don’t have to continue if you don’t want to.”
That sentence, I don’t know why, relaxed me more than any caress could have.
He positioned himself behind me, put on a condom, applied lubricant to his cock as well, and coated it thoroughly from base to tip. He lowered his weight onto my back, covering me like a warm blanket, and ran the head along the cleft of my ass a couple of times, wetting me. Then he pressed the tip against my asshole and began to push, slowly, millimeter by millimeter. I felt my body resist at first, then the ring give with a burning sensation that made me bite the pillow, and finally the head slid inside with a dull tug.
“Breathe, sweetheart, breathe,” he whispered in my ear, staying still. “The hardest part is over.”
He stopped whenever I needed him to without my even having to ask. I felt him controlling every inch for me, sinking in a little farther, waiting, then sinking in a little more. When I finally had him completely inside me, his balls resting against my soaked pussy, I realized I was trembling.
At first it was an utterly strange sensation, so new that it made me hold my breath and clutch the sheets in my fists. A mixture of invasion and vertigo unlike anything else. But little by little, as my body adjusted, it began to transform into something different, something incredible that rose through me in waves.
The rhythm grew smoother. His hands held my hips, guiding me and setting a gentle pace that I soon began asking him to increase. He started pulling almost all the way out and sliding back in with more hunger each time, and I pushed my ass back to meet him, searching for more. A current of unexpected pleasure ran through me from head to toe, so intense it left me speechless.
“More, harder, don’t hold back, I’m fine now,” I begged, pushing myself back against his cock. “Fuck my ass. I want to feel it.”
I moaned into the pillow, clutching the sheets, feeling every thrust deep inside, asking him in a broken voice not to stop. Damián gathered my hair in one hand, carefully tilted my head back, and whispered things in my ear that aroused me even more, filthy words spoken with a tenderness that had no business going together and yet drove me wild.
“Look at how your ass swallows my cock, you little slut. Look how well you take it… if you’d been keeping this hidden, fuck, you’re so tight…”
I slipped one hand between my legs and began rubbing my clit in quick circles, adding that pleasure to the other, slowly building something enormous inside me. My fingers were quickly covered in my own juices, and with my other hand I slid a couple of fingers inside my pussy, feeling from there the bulge of his cock moving in the other hole. The sensation was so intense it nearly made me jump. I felt it growing, building, tightening like a cord about to snap. And when it finally burst, it happened all at once: an orgasm that shot up my entire spine and made me collapse onto the mattress, screaming into the pillow, my whole body trembling beneath his and my ass clenching around his cock in spasms that tore a guttural groan from him.
“Fuck, I can’t hold out like this, I can’t…”
Damián withdrew carefully a little while later, gently turned me over, took off the condom, and began jerking off over me with a quick hand, biting his lip. I reached underneath and took hold of his balls, squeezing them gently, and stuck out my tongue for him to aim at. He came with a deep groan, shooting thick streams of cum over my tits, neck, and chin, hot and one after another, down to the last drop. I ran a finger over the head, gathered what remained, and brought it to my mouth, sucking it slowly while staring straight at him. He collapsed beside me as soon as he could, half-dead. We stayed there, panting and sweaty, with semen still running down my chest, staring at the ceiling and laughing softly in sheer disbelief.
***
We cleaned ourselves up between jokes, then curled up beneath the sheets. We spent a while talking about nothing in particular—his costume, mine, the friends who had stood me up and whom I was deeply grateful to at that moment. Sleep overcame us halfway through a sentence.
The next morning we said goodbye at the door with a long kiss and no promises. He had things to do, and so did I, and neither of us felt the need to invent a future we didn’t need. He gave me one last smile, I answered with a nod, and I watched him walk away down the hallway with a lingering warmth pulsing in my skin.
I closed the door, made myself a coffee, and sat on the sofa with the mug between my hands, watching the morning light come in through the window. That night I had opened a door I hadn’t even known existed inside me. An entire world of new sensations, of possibilities I had never dared to imagine.
And as I took my first sip, I smiled inwardly with a new certainty: the next time that door appeared, I wasn’t going to hesitate for even a second before crossing through it again.