What My Friend Took Months to Confide in Me

I hesitated a long time before writing this. It’s not a funny story or a hot one like the ones I usually tell. It doesn’t end with someone satisfied and smiling. But it’s part of what we lived through, of what Valeria lived through, and I think it might help someone who’s in a similar situation. That’s why I’m telling it.

Valeria was always the prettiest girl in the group. Since she was little, she had that kind of face that stopped traffic: huge green eyes, a small nose, a smile that could undo you even when you were angry with her. But in her last year of high school she weighed quite a bit more than the rest of us, and that crushed her from the inside. She looked at herself in the mirror and didn’t see what we saw. She saw a distorted, diminished version of herself.

That’s why she ended things with Marcos.

Marcos was twenty-four when she had just turned eighteen. He worked for some logistics company, drove an old car, and told her she was “different from the others.” I never bought it. The way he looked at her when he thought no one was watching, that mix of desire and contempt, turned my stomach. But Valeria was content with being desired. At that point in her life, being wanted was enough.

In mid-September, Valeria missed school four days in a row. That was extremely unusual for her. She was the kind of girl who would come in sick rather than miss something. The official excuse she gave the homeroom teacher was a bad flu. It didn’t add up to me at all.

When she showed up on the fifth day, I noticed something was off the moment she walked through the classroom door. She walked differently. Slowly. Carefully, as if the floor might break beneath her feet. She sat down at her usual desk, two rows in front of me, and the exact moment she lowered herself into the chair, her face went white. A brief, almost imperceptible wince of pain, but it was there.

—Are you okay? —I whispered from my seat.

—I’m fine —she said, without looking at me.

No one who’s fine says it like that, with that flat voice and their eyes fixed on their notebook.

At recess I caught her before she could slip away to the bathroom. I gently took her arm and led her to the back of the first-floor hallway, where there’s a stretch that opens onto the old locker rooms and where no one ever walks by.

—Valeria, tell me what happened. Seriously.

She looked to either side, pressed her backpack to her chest, and breathed slowly. It took her an eternity to speak.

—I had an... accident. With Marcos. But please, Lucía, don’t tell anyone.

I didn’t ask anything else. I just told her we’d meet after lunch, during gym period, which we never actually went to anyway.

***

There was an auditorium on the ground floor that they used once a year for patriotic ceremonies. The rest of the time it stayed closed with one of those old locks you could force open by pushing. We went in, locked the door behind us, and sat in the back rows, on those orange plastic chairs left over from the previous year.

Valeria sat carefully, her lips tight when she put her weight down. It hurt me to see her like that.

—Now tell me —I said—. No one can hear us here.

It took her a while to start. She looked at her hands, interlaced her fingers, then unclasped them. When she spoke, her voice came out low and even, as if she’d rehearsed the tone so she wouldn’t break.

—It was last Friday. Marcos invited me to his apartment. He’d been texting me for days, saying he missed me, that he wanted to spend the whole night fucking me. I put on the prettiest underwear I had, a black lace set I’d bought just for him. I sprayed perfume all over myself, even between my tits. I was so excited, Lucía. So ridiculously excited.

She paused. Swallowed.

—But he told me to come after midnight. My parents would never have let me, so I made up that I was sleeping at your place. I left early, told them I was heading there, and then I spent like two hours sitting in the square across from his building, waiting for the time. I kept looking at my phone, pacing around, sitting on a bench. I was so happy. I felt older, you know? I felt special.

—I know —I said, though what I felt was something else.

—I got to his place around one. As soon as he opened the door he grabbed my arm and kissed me without even saying hello. He shoved his tongue down my throat and squeezed one of my tits over my sweatshirt, hard, like it was already his. He took me straight to the bedroom. There was none of that: no water, no music, no sitting down for a minute. Straight to the bed. He ripped off my sweatshirt, my jeans, everything. He left me in my panties and bra and just stared at me like I was a plate of food. “You’re so fucking good,” he told me. At first I liked how much he wanted me. How he pulled my clothes off like that, so desperate. He put his hand inside my panties and said I was already wet, what a slut I was for him. I was floating, Lucía.

Valeria paused again. She bit her lip.

—He took everything off me. Spread my legs and ate my pussy for a while. Very slowly, with his whole tongue, until I was shaking. Then he stood beside the bed and took his pants down. He grabbed his cock in front of my face and put it to my lips. I sucked it as much as I could, Lucía. I sucked it the way he’d taught me, with both hands, taking him all the way down my throat. He pulled my hair and shoved it deeper. He told me it was the best blowjob of his life. I believed him. I believed everything.

She lowered her voice a little more.

—Then he laid me on my back and went inside me in one thrust. I was so wet he slid all the way in at once. He started fucking me hard, looking me in the eyes, saying things in my ear. That he loved my pussy, that it was small and tight, that he was going to fill me up. I clung to him and dug my nails into his back. I asked him to get on top of me. I climbed on him and started moving my hips while he squeezed my tits and sucked on my nipples. Everything was good. I felt like a goddess, Lucía. I felt like the most desired woman in the world.

—And then what happened? —I asked, my throat tight.

—Then he turned me over. Put me on all fours and grabbed my hips. He told me that was how he liked it best, that was how he could finish. He started fucking me from behind, in my pussy, slamming against my ass. He was spanking me. Tugging my hair. I didn’t say anything. I stayed still and let him, because that was what he wanted and I wanted him to be okay.

Her voice changed then. It became flatter, more controlled, as if she were reading something instead of remembering it.

—He stayed like that a long time, pounding me hard. I could feel him breathing faster and faster. And suddenly he pulled out completely. Entirely. I felt the cold air on my wet pussy. I thought it was over, that he was going to finish on my back or something. And when he shoved it back in... it wasn’t the same place. He fucked me in the ass, Lucía. Without warning. Without lubricant. Nothing. Dry. In one blow. He shoved his whole cock into my ass in a single thrust.

My blood ran cold.

—The pain was... I don’t know how to describe it. Like they’d driven in a piece of burning metal. Like I was being torn apart from the inside. I screamed, I screamed so hard that my throat hurt afterward. I tried to pull away, to lunge forward, but he had me by the hips and wouldn’t let go. He gave me two, three more thrusts in the ass before pulling out. I felt something burning, something scorching inside me. I curled onto my side and cried. I cried nonstop for I don’t know how long, with my legs clamped together, shaking.

—And him? —I asked, my voice calmer than I felt inside.

—After a while he came over to me. He lay down behind me and hugged me. I could still feel his cock hard against my ass, Lucía. Still hard. And he kept apologizing in my ear over and over. “It was an accident, baby, I swear it slipped, forgive me, I lost control.” I kept crying and he kept repeating the same thing while he stroked my hair with one hand and with the other adjusted his cock against my body. Then he turned on the light and saw the sheets. There was blood, Lucía. Not a lot, but there was some. A dark, ugly stain where I’d been on all fours.

—Jesus.

—I panicked. I asked him to take me to the ER. He told me he couldn’t, that it was too late, that his parents would hear if he took the car out of the garage. He filled the bathtub, helped me wash, made me tea. He put me in the hot water and ran the sponge over me everywhere, even there, where it burned. That calmed me down little by little. But the pain didn’t go away. Every time I clenched, it was like they were sticking a knife into me.

***

Valeria went back home the next morning. She told her parents she had a stomachache and was staying in bed. It wasn’t entirely a lie.

—I went to the bathroom that afternoon and it hurt so much I cried again. A little blood came out. I got even more scared.

When her parents left for work, Valeria got dressed and took the bus alone to Hospital Fernández. She was seen by an on-duty doctor who treated her carefully, without judging her. Very tactfully, the doctor asked whether someone had hurt her. Valeria explained what had happened. The doctor called in an on-duty proctologist.

The diagnosis was an anal fissure. They gave her a cream to apply twice a day and ordered rest. They told her it would take two to three weeks to heal, as long as there was no further irritation, and no sex of any kind until further notice.

Valeria told me all of that in that flat voice, without crying, staring at the floor of the auditorium. When she finished, I sat in silence for a moment. Not because I didn’t know what to say, but because there were too many things to say and none of them were right for that moment.

I hugged her. That was all I did.

—Thanks for telling me —I said at last.

—I needed to tell someone. I couldn’t keep carrying it alone.

What I didn’t tell her at that moment, what I couldn’t tell her because we weren’t close enough yet, was what I could see clearly from the outside: that Marcos hadn’t mistaken the hole. That men who shove their dry cock into the ass of a girl who trusts them aren’t making a mistake. That someone who loves you doesn’t pull the car into the garage so he won’t wake his parents while you’re crying blood onto the sheets.

I was able to tell her that months later, when the friendship between us had become something different. When we could finally speak honestly.

***

It took Valeria almost a month to fully recover. The fissure healed, but the invisible damage took much longer. She stayed with Marcos for almost another year. They never tried anal sex again, at least that’s what she told me, but the dynamic between them didn’t change much. He was still the same guy who made her feel special only when it suited him and ignored her the rest of the time. Who fucked her when he wanted, however he wanted, and then sent her home by taxi.

When she finally left him, it was her decision. There was no dramatic trigger. One day she simply got sick of not being treated well and dumped him by text. She told me that same night: “I broke up with Marcos.” No further explanation. She didn’t need to give me one.

What came after was different. Valeria started getting to know herself in a different way, understanding what she wanted and what she wouldn’t tolerate. She found a partner who treated her well, with patience, who asked before doing anything. One night, laughing with a bottle of wine between us, she told me she’d gone back to exploring anal sex. This time slowly, with trust, with someone who cared how she felt.

—It’s completely different —she told me, with that smile of hers that lit up the room—. The first time he put lube everywhere, Lu. He opened me with one finger, then two, while he was eating my pussy. It took him like half an hour before he put his cock in me. And when he did, he went so slowly I almost didn’t feel it going in. He asked me every two minutes if I was okay. He moved like he was afraid of breaking me. And when I came with him inside my ass, I couldn’t believe it. When you’re with someone who takes care of you, it’s another world.

I looked at her and thought she was right. That almost everything about intimacy is different when the other person truly takes care of you. That what Valeria lived through with Marcos that night wasn’t anal sex. It was simply someone wrecking her without giving a damn.

I’m telling this because I know there are girls in similar situations. Who put up with things they shouldn’t have to put up with because the desire to be desired weighs more than the pain. And because sometimes all it takes is for someone to name it: what they did to you wasn’t okay. It doesn’t matter if they apologized afterward. It doesn’t matter if they said it was an accident.

Valeria’s body took three weeks to heal. The rest took longer. But it healed.