What My Best Friend Comes to My House to Get

This morning you sent me a four-word message. “I’m hungry, can I come over?” Nothing else was needed. I’ve known that phrase for almost two years now, and I know what it hides beneath your usual shyness. I told you yes, this afternoon, the house would be empty. Then I put the phone down on the table and sat there for a while thinking about how strange and how beautiful all this we have is.

Because let’s be clear: you and I are not a couple. We’re not in love. To be honest, you’re not even my type of woman, and I’m not the man you dream about. And yet, between us there’s a bond I’ve never known how to explain to anyone, because no one on the outside would understand it. To the rest of the world it would be weird, dirty, incomprehensible. To you and me, it’s the most natural thing there is.

I showered early. I shaved carefully. I put on comfortable, clean clothes, as I always do when I know you’re coming, because for me too it’s a special occasion. At exactly six o’clock, the doorbell rang.

I opened the door and there you were, Mara. You had made yourself up. Your hair was tied back, you had a little makeup on, and your lips were painted a deep red that looked gorgeous on you. I looked at you and felt that usual tenderness, that strange mix of affection and complicity.

—Hi… —you said, looking at me shyly before crossing the threshold.

—Hi. Come in, don’t stand out there —I answered, stepping aside to make room for you.

We kissed each other on the cheeks twice. Your perfume reached me softly, and I noticed your hand tremble a little when you set your bag down.

—Don’t be shy —I told you with a smile—. It’s not the first time we’ve done this.

You lowered your gaze to the floor, blushing. There was a long pause before you spoke.

—Yeah… It’s just that I don’t want you to think I’m… —you swallowed—. A slut.

I stepped closer and lifted your chin with two fingers, gently, until your eyes met mine again.

—Why are you saying that? You know I’d never think something like that about you. What you and I have is something beautiful. It’s ours. No one else has to understand it.

We held each other’s gaze for a second and smiled softly. That’s the part nobody sees. Before anything else, there’s this: calm, respect, absolute trust. We’re more than friends without being a couple, a strange symbiosis that binds us in a way no dictionary records. You’re hungry, a very specific kind of hungry, and I’m the only one who can satisfy it.

We went into the living room. You left your bag and jacket on the table with the kind of haste that gave away how eager you were.

—Shall we start now? —I asked.

—Yes, please… —you answered, and I heard the anxiety in your voice.

I stood in front of the armchair. Before I could even sit down, you were already on your knees in front of me. You went straight for my belt. The buckle gave you a bit of trouble, but you didn’t wait a second: you yanked my trousers and underwear down in one pull and left me naked from the waist down.

My cock, already starting to harden, was right at eye level. You stared at it, spellbound, biting your lower lip with a desire you made no effort to hide. You brought your hand up, wrapped your fingers around it, and kissed the tip softly. Then you lifted your face and gave me a huge smile, full of affection and gratitude.

I sat down in the chair, leaned back, and opened my legs so you could settle between them. I put a cushion under your knees, because I know how long this takes and I don’t want anything to hurt. As soon as you were ready, you grabbed me as if you were afraid I might disappear and lunged at it with your mouth. The anxiety got the better of you and you took the head of my cock all the way in at once.

—Easy… —I held your head gently and stroked your cheek with my other hand—. Go slow. There’s no rush.

—Sorry. I’m just so hungry —you apologized, your voice small and embarrassed.

—Start little by little. I’m not going anywhere.

You took me again, but this time you covered every inch of me with slow, tender kisses. You licked me as if I were an ice cream about to melt, running your tongue over me so you wouldn’t miss a single drop. I was your treat, your candy. And for me it was such an intense physical pleasure that I could barely describe it, because the glans is the most sensitive part of my body and I felt every lick, every kiss, every suck, multiplied a thousand times.

But what filled me most wasn’t on the skin. It was in my head. Every time you sucked me off, I felt like I was feeding you. That I could give you something you needed and that only I could offer. Sometimes you moaned softly with my cock in your mouth, and I could feel the vibration at the tip, and a smile would slip out of me.

You adore it. You’ve told me a thousand times. You like its size, its hardness, how smooth the skin is. You look at it like someone admiring something that belongs to them, a fountain from which that thing you love so much flows. You’ve confessed to me that you never imagined something like this could give you so much pleasure, that over time you came to like it until it became your favorite food. And that’s why you come. That’s why you chose me.

Because not just anyone can give you this. I’m a healthy man, careful, and you know you can trust me with your eyes closed. I’ve always treated you gently, before, during, and after. That’s why you let yourself go. And that’s why, without really knowing why, when you do it you feel powerful, as if you were the one in charge and I were just the resource you use. And I let you, delighted.

***

While you were sucking me, every now and then you’d lift your eyes and our gazes would meet. With my cock in your mouth, you’d sketch a half-smile and I’d return it. That was our way of thanking each other without words. I liked stroking your face, sliding my fingers through your tied-up hair, freeing a stray lock. There was something almost romantic about that moment, something that had nothing to do with haste or urgency.

As the minutes passed, you focused more and more. You sucked faster, deeper, harder. I couldn’t help but speed up my breathing and let out a few moans. And I know that for you, that’s as exciting as the act itself: knowing that what you do, and how you do it, gives me that pleasure.

I looked down and saw your mouth moving up and down without rest. Thoughts came into my head that made me even harder. I’m feeding you. I have to feed you. This is yours. And each time I felt more and more the pressure of your throat against the tip, the muffled sounds you made as you took me all the way in.

You stopped for a moment to breathe and lifted your face. Between your mouth and my cock, thin strings of saliva hung. Small tears sprang from your eyes from the effort of holding back the gag reflex, and even so you smiled at me, as if to say you were happy doing it. I smiled too. But this time I held your head and guided you back down.

—Don’t stop. Keep going —I told you, impatient.

I didn’t let go. I grabbed your hair to set the rhythm and depth myself. I was a little rough, I admit it, I pushed you a bit more than I should have, but I wasn’t doing it cruelly: I was at the mercy of what you were making me feel. And you, far from complaining, accepted it happily. I know your secret: you like it when I take control, when I use your mouth however I want, when I decide. Each thrust opened your throat a little more to take me in.

—Glo… glo… glo… —you sounded, and you have no idea how much I loved hearing you.

I know you were wet, even though neither of us was even thinking of going any further. That’s the strangest part of all. To me, I was fucking your mouth, literally, and yet neither you nor I would call this sex. It’s something else. It’s our thing.

The moment was approaching. After a good while directing the movements of your head, I felt the pleasure gather at the tip, about to spill over. I gently pulled your hair upward so we could look at each other again.

—I’m about to feed you —I said between gasps.

You opened your eyes, moved, and answered with a muffled “mmmh!” without taking me out of your mouth.

I let go of your hair and let you take control again. You took me by the base, firmly, and sucked with the same force and depth with which I had guided you. Your eagerness to get to the reward showed. You needed it, and that’s why you never eased up.

My moans grew faster, louder. I could feel it coming.

—Now… now… n-now! —I barely managed to warn you.

And then it came. You placed the tip in the center of your mouth, right where you knew you wouldn’t choke, and let everything spill there. You stayed in ecstasy, finally getting what you had come for. I felt two things at once: the orgasm, intense and long, and that very particular satisfaction of knowing I was feeding you in the most intimate way that exists between us.

You lifted your eyes without stopping your slow swallowing, without losing a single drop, and we looked at each other. The connection became, if anything, even deeper. With your eyes you thanked me, and I, with each spasm, let out a moan of pure pleasure.

That’s our secret. An act that satisfies us both equally: you receive what you like most, and I offer it to you with the most intimate part of my body exploding with pleasure. An intimacy without a name, secret, full of dirty excitement, that no outsider would understand.

The orgasm faded little by little. You savored the last drops with some regret that there wasn’t more. Then you took me out of your mouth, already half-soft, and gave the tip one last tender kiss. You were disheveled, with your lipstick smeared, your cheeks wet with tears, and your face shining. But you were smiling from ear to ear. I smiled back at you, just as happy as you were.

Without saying anything, you stood up, fixed your hair, and wiped your face clean so no one would notice what had just happened. I got dressed completely. On the outside, we were back to being two ordinary friends.

—Thank you —you told me, coming closer, your eyes full of happiness.

—Thank you —I replied—. I love it when you come see me.

I stroked your face and you gave me a small kiss on the lips, full of affection. I know that after our encounters you need a little tenderness, and I have more than enough to give you. You gathered your things and walked out the door, calm, satisfied, with that half-smile that only stays on your face when you come to my house. You know I’m at your disposal whenever you get hungry again.

And all that said… I was left hungry too. I felt your gaze before you left and I felt how nervous you were. Next time maybe it’ll be your turn to feed me, with that other delicacy you hide and that I like so much. I’d love that. But that, Mara, is a confession for another day.