They Caught Me Twice and Said Nothing

Some years ago, when I was still living at my parents’ house and in high school, two things happened to me that I remember now with a strange mix of embarrassment and something I’m not quite sure how to name. I’m not going to say my name, or anyone else’s. But what I’m about to tell is true.

My biggest fear back then was that we’d get caught. Not just by my parents: by anyone. The idea that someone might see us in the middle of it, or worse, that photos or videos might be circulating out there, filled me with genuine terror. I’m pretty modest in day-to-day life, the kind of girl who changes in the bathroom with the door locked. But with my boyfriend Tomás I was completely different. With him I allowed myself things that with anyone else would have seemed unthinkable: I’d suck his cock until it hit the back of my throat, I’d ask him to come all over my face, I’d spread my ass open with my fingers so he could lick me. Things that if anyone had said them out loud to me a year earlier, I would have died of shame.

We’d been together almost two years when these two stories happened. We were young, we lived in our parents’ houses, and that limitation gave everything a particular flavor that I still remember with a lot of clarity.

***

The first time was at my house, at the end of that summer.

My parents liked Tomás a lot from the start. That gave us certain freedoms that many of my friends were completely denied. He could stay over, for example. But there were clear conditions: the bedroom door had to stay open, and he slept on a mattress on the floor, not in my bed. My mom’s official justification was my younger sister, Caro, who slept in the room next door and might hear something if we were careless.

It was hard to have any kind of privacy like that. Not impossible, but hard.

What we did was wait. Stay awake in silence, with the glow of the computer monitor as the only light, until my parents and Caro fell asleep. Then we’d wait a little longer, just in case, listening to the silence of the house. And when everything was quiet, I’d climb down to the mattress where he was.

I had a favorite activity for those nights: getting under the sheets, crawling down in the dark, pulling his boxers down with my teeth and sucking his cock until he came in my mouth. All in complete silence on his part. That was half the game: forcing him to stay quiet while I did everything possible to make that impossible. I’d grab his balls with one hand, squeeze the base of his cock with the other, and take him all the way to the back of my throat until the tip hit my palate and I felt his whole body tense beneath me.

My mouth knew exactly how his body reacted. I knew when he was close by the way the head of his cock swelled against my tongue, when I had to stop and leave it outside, throbbing in the air, wet with my saliva, to keep him suspended in that edge between wanting more and not being able to bear it. I knew when to speed up all at once, bobbing my head fast, tightening my lips, swallowing his cum without letting a single drop fall. Those sessions were intense precisely because of that, because of the forbidden part: my parents sleeping one floor above, my sister a few meters away, and the two of us down there in the dark on the floor, my mouth full of warm, thick cum that I had to swallow in silence.

That same summer my parents had bought me a computer for my room, along with one of those big padded gaming chairs. Tomás and I found plenty of uses for that chair beyond what it was meant for. When we were alone, he’d sit there with his cock out and I’d kneel between his legs, suck him while he watched the screen and tugged my hair. Other times it was the other way around: me sprawled in the chair with my legs open hanging over the armrests, him kneeling and burying his face in my cunt until he made me come two or three times in a row. And many times I was simply sitting on his lap in my panties, feeling his hard-on pressed between my ass cheeks while we did something or nothing at all. It was our space.

The night I want to talk about started completely normally. It was around two in the morning. The two of us were in front of the computer, me sitting on top of him as so many other times. He was wearing only shorts, no shirt. I had on a long oversized T-shirt that came down almost to my thighs and, underneath it, a pair of white cotton panties.

At one point I got up to go to the bathroom. As I passed Caro’s room I peeked in quietly: she was sound asleep, lying on her back, face toward the ceiling. She didn’t move. Her breathing was even.

In the bathroom, when I pulled my panties down, I noticed they were soaked through. The crotch was a dark, shiny stain, with strands of thick discharge stuck to the fabric. I figured being rubbed against Tomás for so long had something to do with it. I took them off, wrapped them in my hand, and went back to the room without putting them back on. The T-shirt was long enough to cover me, but I could feel the cool air hitting my cunt directly, the wetness running down the insides of my thighs with every step.

Before going in I stopped again in the hallway. I looked toward Caro’s room. She was still sleeping.

I entered the room, came up behind Tomás, and kissed him a little longer than usual, biting his lower lip. When I pulled away, I looked him in the eyes and said in a very low voice, almost soundless:

—Close your eyes. Don’t open them until I tell you.

He closed them. I brought my panties to his nose and felt his breathing change immediately. His cock swelled under the shorts at once, so much that it pushed the fabric outward into a bulge that was impossible to hide. I slid my hand under, pulled the elastic down, took out his hard, hot cock, and started jerking him off slowly, pressing the skin down until the red head was fully exposed, unhurried, feeling him throb in my hand.

—Open your eyes.

He saw me like that: one hand holding my soaked panties near his face, the other moving slowly up and down his cock, a strand of clear pre-cum showing at the tip. I brought the fabric to my nose, inhaled deeply my own smell, licked it with my tongue over the wettest part, sucked the cotton until I could taste the concentrated flavor of my cunt in my mouth. All very slowly, never taking my eyes off his.

Then I knelt in front of him, between his knees, with my face at the level of his cock.

I gave him one long lick from base to tip, flat, with my whole tongue, following the thick vein that runs along the underside of his cock. Then I licked his balls one by one, took them into my mouth, sucked them slowly while still jerking him off. He went rigid all over and had to make a visible effort not to make a sound. Every so often a vibration slipped out of his throat, something that wasn’t exactly a moan but made it clear what he was feeling. I saw his knuckles go white as he gripped the edges of the chair.

I pulled my T-shirt off over my head and tossed it aside. I was completely naked, kneeling in the darkness of the room, my tits hanging forward, nipples hard from the air and the heat, with only the bluish light of the monitor illuminating the scene in the barest way.

I grabbed his cock with both hands, one above the other, and took the head into my mouth. I sucked it with tight lips, moving my tongue in circles around the crown while my hands jerked the rest in the opposite direction. Then I started to go down, swallowing it whole, centimeter by centimeter, until I felt it hitting the back of my throat. I bobbed my head up and down in rhythm, with more saliva, making more noise than was wise, a wet sloshing sound that in the silence of the house sounded enormous. Aware that Caro was sleeping just a few meters away. That awareness of the risk was part of what had my cunt dripping: I felt the wetness run down my thighs, soaking my knees against the floor. The tension of knowing that any sound could ruin everything made it more intense, not less.

I decided to go a little farther. I took him as far as I could into my throat, forcing it until I gagged, filling my mouth with thick saliva that spilled from the corners and dripped onto his balls. I did it several times in a row, with the guttural noise that produces, feeling the tip of his cock hit the back of my palate each time. Saliva ran down my chin, wet his pubic mound, formed strings that fell to the floor between my knees.

—Mm, yes —he said, barely audible, his voice breaking.

I let go of his cock for a second, spit all over it to lubricate it better, and took it back down to the base, this time holding it there, my nose flattened against his pubis, my throat closing around his cock, until my eyes filled with tears and I had to pull off to breathe. I was about to take him again when I heard his voice in the lowest tone possible:

—Stop. Stop. Caro is at the door.

I froze completely, with Tomás’s cock two centimeters from my mouth, a strand of saliva hanging between my lower lip and the tip.

I turned slowly. There was my sister, standing in the doorway with half-open eyes and an expression somewhere between sleepy and confused, the look of someone who has just woken up and still hasn’t fully processed what they’re seeing. Tomás covered himself with his shorts as fast as he could. I covered my tits with one arm and my cunt with the other hand.

—Go back to your room —I told her, trying to make my voice sound normal.

She left without saying a word. I closed my eyes for a moment. My heart was hammering against my ribs at a speed that had nothing erotic about it.

A few minutes later I went to Caro’s room. I sat on the edge of her bed and explained what had happened as calmly as I could. I asked her not to say anything. It wasn’t free, but in the end we reached an agreement.

The following week we had a longer, calmer conversation, without the adrenaline of the moment, in which I apologized properly. She never told my parents.

***

The second time was at school, a few months later.

Tomás and I had established a pretty consistent ritual: arriving half an hour before classes started, or taking advantage of free periods when a teacher was absent, and going to an empty classroom in the basement of the building. It was dark, always unoccupied at those hours, and far enough from the main classrooms that no one bothered us.

What we did there was simple: I’d pull his cock out of his pants, kneel on the cold floor, suck him with my throat open until he came in my mouth or on my face, and then we’d go up to the courtyard and blend in with everyone else as if nothing had happened, with the taste of semen still on my tongue. It was quick, it was clandestine, and it had that forbidden charge I found impossible to resist.

That particular day we had a free period because a teacher was absent. We went straight to the basement.

I was especially hot that morning, for no reason I could identify. I’d spent the entire first class squeezing my legs under my desk, feeling my panties getting wetter and wetter, already imagining myself on my knees in front of him. I pushed him against the wall near the door, just in case we heard someone coming, opened his fly with both hands, yanked down his boxers, and took out his cock, already half hard. I knelt almost in the same motion, without even kissing him first, and took it all into my mouth in one go.

I started hard. Lots of saliva, not delicate at all, none of the patience from the other times. I swallowed his cock to the hilt, pulled it out to the tip, swallowed it again, spitting, sucking noisily, making his balls ache by squeezing them with my hand. At the same time, with my free hand, I slid inside the joggers I was wearing that day, went under my panties, and found my cunt soaked, the lips swollen, the clit hard. I started rubbing myself in fast circles with two fingers while still sucking him off. I was so wet I could hear my fingers sloshing inside my pants. In less than three minutes I had a fast, silent orgasm, biting my lip so I wouldn’t make a noise, with Tomás’s cock all the way down my throat and my legs shaking against the floor.

I pulled my hand out, adjusted my pants, and before kneeling again I brought my fingers to his mouth. He sucked them slowly, one by one, without me saying a word, tasting me like I was the best thing he’d ever had in his life.

I grabbed his cock again and kept going. I sucked him without stopping, with both hands and my mouth working together, bobbing my head up and down in rhythm with my hands, squeezing the base so he could hold out longer, licking the head every time I came up. I could feel his legs shaking, his breathing getting more and more ragged, his fingers sinking into my scalp. I kept going until he signaled me with his eyes that he was ready. I pulled his cock out of my mouth, kept jerking him fast and aiming him at my face, stuck out my tongue and let him finish on me. I felt the hot spurts hitting my cheek, my forehead, my tongue, one in my eye that made it close by reflex. At the end I took him back into my mouth to suck the last drops out and swallow them.

I was crouched on the floor, my face still dripping semen, looking for a tissue in the pocket of my joggers, when I heard the door squeak open.

I wiped myself as fast as I could with the sleeve of my jacket. The two of us looked at each other without saying anything. Whoever had come in was no longer there: they had opened the door, seen something, and left without us knowing who it was.

We walked out slowly, checked that the hallway was empty, and went back to the courtyard as if we’d been anywhere else.

It was a horrible day.

We were both nervous but didn’t talk about it, each of us chewing over our own thoughts. The questions were always the same: who had come in? Had they seen us clearly? Were they going to tell someone? Had they taken out their phone before leaving?

This last thought was the one that tormented me most. The possibility that there were photos of me kneeling with my mouth open and my face covered in cum, that they might be circulating in the school group chats, that someone might show me the screen at recess with that image and I wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. It stayed with me through the whole day, through dinner with my family at home, and then in bed, tossing and turning, eyes open at the ceiling.

It was eleven-thirty at night. At twelve o’clock sharp I got a WhatsApp message.

It was from Nadia, a classmate I’d known for years and talked to often.

—You’re such a greedy little bitch. You can’t even wait to get home.

My heart stopped for a full second.

—What are you talking about? —I answered, trying to buy time.

—The prefect sent me to get some chairs from the auditorium and I found you there on your knees with Tomás’s dick in your mouth. Don’t act clueless.

It took me quite a while to answer.

—I nearly had a heart attack. I spent all day wondering who had seen us. Did anyone else come in after you?

—No, I went in alone. I turned right around as soon as I walked in and waited outside for them to leave. Nobody else knows anything.

—Please don’t tell anyone.

—Relax, okay. Anyway, sooner or later your friends are going to find out you’re this greedy and that you suck Tomás’s dick in every corner of the school.

I closed the phone and lay staring at the ceiling for a long while, one hand between my legs under my pajamas, unable to help myself, thinking about how Nadia had seen me, what face she must have made when she opened the door and found me like that.

It took me a while to fall asleep, but that time it was for very different reasons than earlier that night.

Those two situations are the ones I remember best from that time. Not because of the fear, although the fear was completely real, but because of everything around it: the darkness of the room, the forced silence, the constant awareness of doing exactly what you weren’t supposed to do. When you’re young and something is forbidden, that prohibition gives everything a kind of intensity that later, over the years, is hard to reproduce. I didn’t understand it that way then. But I do now.