The Trip on Which My Friend and I Crossed the Line

I kept this to myself for a long time, and not because I was ashamed, but because I had tucked it away in a drawer of memory I almost never open. It was while talking with my friend Romina a few weeks ago, both of us with one drink too many, that we came back to that trip and realized that everything had started much earlier than we thought. There, that weekend, we planted something between us that we were never able to pull out again.

It happened about a year and a half ago. We had spent months planning to sneak away the four of us: Romina and her husband Diego, Andrés and me. After a thousand messages and calendars that never quite matched up, we finally managed three free days. We decided to drive across the mountains to the little village where Diego’s family had grown up, a tiny place that smelled of wet earth and firewood.

The drive there was calm, with music and bad jokes, the kind only people who know each other too well can make. When we arrived, the heat was so thick that everyone’s first thought was the same: the river. A stretch of clear water ran between the rocks just a few minutes from the village, and that was where we headed almost without even unpacking.

We changed in the car. First the men, who for that sort of thing take as long as a yawn. Then it was our turn. Romina didn’t even know where to start taking her clothes off; she had always been more reserved than I was, though with me, over the years, she had loosened up quite a bit.

—It’s nothing, we’re both women —I told her, and started undressing without thinking too much about it.

It was the first time she had seen me completely, because to put on a swimsuit there’s no choice but to take off every last thing. I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye so as not to make her uncomfortable and found her with her mouth slightly open, looking at me without even trying to hide it. For years we had joked in front of everyone that we were girlfriends, hugging each other as a joke, giving each other exaggerated affection just to laugh at the others’ faces. But some games get repeated because, deep down, you want them to stop being a game.

When I finished adjusting my swimsuit, I turned to her.

—What? Had you never seen a naked woman before? —I asked, amused.

—Nope. Who would I see, if it’s only Diego and you? —she replied, still a little embarrassed.

—Well, there. One less thing on your to-do list —I teased.

—Yeah, sure… —she murmured, biting her lip.

—Come on, don’t get like that. We trust each other, don’t we?

—Yes, you know that already.

She started undressing, trying to cover herself, quick about it, while I put my clothes away. And even though she thought I wasn’t looking, I watched her in the reflection of the car window. With clothes on, you could already tell she had a body that stopped conversations; without them, it was something else entirely. I don’t know where I found the restraint not to say anything in that moment.

***

We went down to the river and the four of us went in at once. The cold water was an absolute relief against the stifling heat. We stayed there for almost four hours, with cold beers, bags of chips, and conversations that got increasingly filthy as the cans emptied.

I could tell the guys were looking at us more than usual. It was the first time they had seen the two of us with so little clothes on and so close together, and our old girlfriends game stirred up something neither of them knew how to hide. At some point, between laughs, the four of us made a half-serious pact: whatever happened on that trip stayed on that trip. Nobody would talk about it afterward. None of us had any idea how much we were going to need that promise.

The first kiss between Romina and me came that same afternoon. We were cheerful enough for embarrassment to have gone downstream with the current. It was them who started egging us on, saying we were all talk, that we’d never dare do anything real. And you never challenge Romina, because she always follows through. As for me, to be honest, I wasn’t all that eager to back out either.

We stood up. The water came a little above our knees, so we were fully in view, exposed, perfect for the show they were expecting. But I didn’t give them what they wanted right away.

First we played. We brought our mouths close and pulled away, glancing sideways at the stupid faces they were making while they waited. Romina is shorter than I am, so when she hugged me, her hands landed right at my hips, and she held on as if she were afraid I’d leave. I wrapped one arm around her and with the other hand I slowly slid up from her arm, brushing her side, until I reached her mouth and traced her lips with one finger.

When I felt she was no longer thinking about the audience, that she was fully with me, I kissed her. Slowly, with small kisses that opened wider and wider, barely biting her lower lip, holding her by the hair at the nape of her neck. It was one of the hottest things I’ve ever felt: having her like that, surrendering, while she didn’t let go of my hips.

I didn’t expect a simple kiss to leave me shaking like that.

I kept that to myself, but in that moment I would have made her mine right there, in front of everyone, without caring about anything. Even so, some desires taste better when you make them wait. We left it there, separated slowly, and when we turned back around, we found the two of them with faces that said they couldn’t believe what they’d just seen. We both laughed, and before sitting down I gave Romina a playful slap, just to have the last word.

***

The guys were as turned on as I was, it was obvious. So much so that a little later Romina and Diego announced they were going to the car “for more beers.” They took their time, and they didn’t exactly come back with many cans.

Andrés and I were left alone, stretched out in the sun on the smooth stones by the bank. He asked me, with that awkward male curiosity, whether I liked women, whether I’d ever been with one. I told him the truth: no, but I also wouldn’t refuse to try it someday. And while we talked, I could see the tension showing under his swimsuit.

—Did you like what you saw? —I asked, already knowing the answer perfectly well.

—What man isn’t going to like seeing two women like that? —he replied, nervous.

I was just as wound up as he was. The kiss had left me hot, and the thought that Romina and Diego might be at it in the car only made it worse.

—What if we take the edge off? —I said.

I didn’t even give him time to answer. I knelt in the sand beside him and stopped thinking. Giving pleasure is something that turns me on almost more than receiving it, and I gave myself to it as if there were no tomorrow. With one hand I braced myself on the warm sand; with the other I started touching myself, checking how wet I was, and not because of the river.

Andrés barely held out. When he finished, I pressed myself against him for a moment, still breathing hard. I lay back on the sand and kept finding myself with my own hand while he leaned over me, covering my chest with his mouth, with kisses and soft bites. I didn’t need much more. The orgasm hit me all at once, so hard that a moan slipped out of me, and he had to cover my mouth with his hand so nobody would hear us from the water.

Afterward we went back into the river, washed the sand off, and put on our faces as if nothing had happened. Romina and Diego showed up shortly after, just as suspiciously rumpled as we were. We stayed a while longer and then went to eat without even changing; in that heat, we were dry in a heartbeat.

***

We stayed at the only hotel in the village, the four of us in a double room. The guys went straight to the pool, while Romina and I lay down for a bit to rest. I wasn’t about to miss the chance.

—They went off to do their thing in the car, didn’t they? —I said, bluntly.

—Yeah —she laughed—. Diego got totally worked up from the kiss we shared.

—I can imagine. Andrés was the same.

—Don’t tell me you two did something too… —she asked, eyes wide.

—I just sucked him off while I was touching myself —I replied with a shrug.

—You’re incorrigible, honestly —she said, half scandalized and half dying of laughter.

—A little vitamin never hurts anyone —I answered, and we both laughed like two kids.

What neither of us said out loud that afternoon, lying side by side on that bed, was the obvious thing: that the kiss by the river had not been for them. That we had enjoyed it for ourselves, and that as soon as we were alone, without an audience or challenges or beers involved, we were going to finish what that cold water had started.

But that part of the story came the next day, and I’d rather tell it calmly, because it deserves its own account. For now I’ll leave it at this: with Romina’s reflection in the car window, with her hand gripping my hip in the river, and with the certainty that some games, once they finally break, can no longer be faked.