What Sofía Awakened in Me That Night

My name is Pablo. I’m thirty-two years old, I’m six foot two, and until a few months ago I led the most predictable life in the world: I worked for a distribution company, sat through meetings that could have been emails, and spent Fridays with beer and a series. A comfortable existence, with no surprises. Until Sofía showed up.

I met her at a mutual friend’s place, on an autumn night when it was raining outside and the apartment was far too hot inside. I was pouring wine in the kitchen when she leaned against the doorway and looked at me in that way some people have of looking at you as if they already know something about you that you don’t know yet.

—You’ve been avoiding the living room for half an hour —she said—. Either you don’t know anyone, or you know too many people.

—Both —I replied.

Sofía was twenty-seven, with brown hair tied up carelessly and dark eyes that didn’t blink nearly enough. We talked for two straight hours in that kitchen while the rest of the party carried on without us. At two in the morning she asked for my number with the same ease she would have asked someone to pass the salt.

Three weeks later we were sleeping together almost every night.

Sofía was unlike anyone I’d been with. Not in the romantic, novelistic sense, but in something more concrete: she wasn’t afraid to say what she wanted. Not in the kitchen, not in bed, not anywhere else. The first time we fucked, at her place, she straddled me with my cock inside her and looked down at me with an almost clinical calm.

—Tell me what you like —she let out, moving her hips slowly—. With words. No shame. I’m not going to guess.

At first that unsettled me. Then it became addictive. I learned to say out loud that I wanted her to suck my cock, to ask her to sit on my face, to describe how I wanted to come inside her. And she gave me back each sentence doubled, biting my lip, whispering filthy things in my ear while I pounded her against the mattress.

The confession came on a November night, lying on the sofa after we’d run out of conversation and lacked the energy to find a new topic. Sofía had her head on my chest and was staring at the ceiling.

—Can I tell you something? —she asked.

—Of course.

—There’s something that really turns me on. More than anything.

I waited. She breathed slowly.

—The idea of seeing you with a man turns me on. Seeing you fucked. Seeing you with one cock in your mouth and another in your ass, if I’m being honest.

Silence. Not the awkward silence that comes when someone says something they shouldn’t. But the thick silence of when someone says something that hits you somewhere you didn’t know you had.

—Don’t look at me like that —she went on, without moving—. It’s not weird. Or maybe it is, but I don’t care. I’m dying to see how you’d react. How hard your cock would get while someone else was putting it in you.

—Sofía…

—You don’t have to say anything now. I just wanted you to know.

We didn’t talk about it any more that night. But I didn’t think about anything else for days. And she knew it, because every time we got into bed she would whisper little things in my ear while she rode me: “imagine a cock going into you right now,” “imagine someone fucking your mouth while I suck your cock.” Things that made me come harder than I wanted to admit.

***

What came after was gradual. Almost imperceptible at first, like when the water heats up so slowly you don’t realize you’re burning yourself.

Sofía didn’t pressure me. She never brought up the sofa conversation directly again. She simply started introducing things little by little while we fucked. A lubricated finger sliding between my ass cheeks while I sucked her off. Then two, pushing slowly, curling inside me in search of something. Words whispered against my neck that I pretended not to hear as attentively as I did: “what a tight ass you’ve got,” “how my fingers are squeezing you,” “someday you’ll have something much bigger in here.”

The first time she found that spot inside me, with two fingers buried to the knuckles and her mouth wrapping around the head of my cock, I let out a sound I didn’t recognize as mine. A sharp, almost feminine moan that slipped from my throat without permission. She paused for a moment, pulled her mouth off my dick with a wet smack, looked at me with something between tenderness and victory, and carried on. Her fingers pressed that same spot again, in slow circles, and a few seconds later I was coming down her tongue without warning her, my hips lifting from the mattress and my ass clenching around her fingers as if I didn’t want to let them go.

—Good? —she asked, swallowing and wiping the corner of her mouth with her thumb.

I couldn’t manage anything coherent.

The following weeks changed my relationship with my own body in a way I still struggle to describe. Something had opened, literally and in another sense, and Sofía knew it before I did. She bought me things without asking. Left them on the bedside table without ceremony. A small black silicone plug that one day appeared beside the lube as if it had always been there.

—Tonight I want to put it in you —she told me, bluntly, while we were having dinner—. And I want you to keep it in while I eat your pussy.

And I said yes. Because by then I’d already spent weeks saying yes to everything she asked, and every time I did, reality turned out better than anything I’d imagined in advance.

She put me on all fours on the bed, pulled my cheeks apart with her hands and spat straight into my hole. The hot saliva sliding between my legs drew a moan out of me. Then the cold stream of lube, her fingers spreading it in circles, one sliding in, then two, the tip of her tongue following along. The sensation of that first time—the stretch of the plug pushing slowly, the pressure, that strange heat rising from inside, the resistance suddenly giving way when the widest part went in—left me motionless for a few seconds. Sofía waited, one hand on my lower back.

—Breathe —she said.

I breathed.

—How is it?

—Weird. Good. I don’t know. Full.

—You’ll see —she replied, smiling in that way of hers that meant she’d been right from the start.

She turned me over, spread my legs and started sucking my cock with the plug still inside me. Every time I clenched my ass, I felt the silicone pressing from within against that spot she’d discovered the week before. I came down her throat five minutes later, my hands in her hair and the unmistakable feeling that something had changed forever.

***

The conversation about Rodrigo came on a Friday night while we were eating dinner.

Sofía put down her fork, looked at me and said:

—I’ve got a friend who’d handle this a lot better than a strap-on. He’s big. He knows how to fuck. And he’s into the idea as much as I am.

I froze with my glass halfway to my mouth.

—Only if you want to —she added—. And only if you’re sure. No rush.

There was no rush, but the following week my head wouldn’t stop turning it over. I caught myself at the office, staring at the screen and seeing nothing, thinking about that possibility with a mix of nerves and something I preferred not to name too clearly. I’d get hard under my desk thinking about someone else’s cock in my mouth, about big hands gripping my hips from behind. At night, when Sofía fucked me with the strap-on and spoke softly to me—her voice against my ear, describing in detail what Rodrigo would do to me, how he would open me up, how he would fill my ass with cum—I closed my eyes, pushed my ass back against her thrusts and came onto the sheets without anyone touching my cock, just from the idea.

One Sunday afternoon I told her yes.

She didn’t celebrate. She just nodded, kissed me on the forehead and said:

—I’ll get you ready this week. You’ll go to him open and ready. I don’t want him to hurt you.

And she did. Every night that week was a variation on the same theme: plugs that got thicker and thicker, long sessions with the strap-on in different positions, fingers, tongue, more lube than I’d ever thought existed. She made me get on all fours and ate my ass for twenty minutes, her tongue going in as far as it could and her fingers following it. She made me ride the strap-on sitting on top of her, watching my face as I lowered myself and rose again with the silicone cock buried all the way in me. She fucked me from the side, with one of my legs lifted, whispering that Rodrigo would put me in exactly that position, that he would watch my face as he opened me up.

Sofía had a way of talking to me during sex that turned every sentence into something burned into my memory. “You’re going to be gorgeous with his cock inside you,” she’d say, pounding me from behind. “I’m going to watch your face when you come just from him fucking you. I’m going to watch you swallow.” It wasn’t cruelty or real humiliation, it was something more like guidance. As if she knew exactly where she wanted to take me and was drawing the path with patience.

On Saturday she said:

—Rodrigo’s coming tomorrow.

That night I barely slept. I jerked off in the bathroom at three in the morning thinking about the next day, coming against the tiles with a moan clenched between my teeth.

***

Sunday arrived wrapped in an odd calm. Sofía made me shower early, gave me an enema that she administered herself with the same naturalness as someone pouring you a coffee, picked out clothes for me, cooked something light at midday. She moved around the apartment with a serenity that contrasted with the noise inside me.

At eight in the evening the doorbell rang.

Rodrigo was around forty, tall, with a short beard flecked with gray at the temples and that kind of physical calm men have when they don’t need to prove anything. He came into the apartment, shook my hand, and there was no theatricality in the gesture. Just normality. Which, paradoxically, made me more unsettled than anything else.

Sofía introduced us naturally, offered something to drink, and the three of us sat in the living room for a while talking about inconsequential things. I suppose it was her way of lowering the temperature. Of turning the situation into something that started from a human place before becoming something else.

When Sofía stood up and looked at me, I understood it was time.

—Are you okay? —she asked, just for me.

—Yes —I answered, and it was true.

***

In the bedroom, Sofía took control from the start. It was her scene, the one she’d spent months building in her head, and she looked completely in her element. Rodrigo let himself be directed without a problem. So did I.

I undressed slowly. Rodrigo did the same. His body was solid, different from mine, with a broad chest and a patch of dark hair running down from his navel. When he pulled down his boxer shorts, my mouth went dry. He was big and thick, already half hard, hanging heavy between his legs with veins visible and heavy balls beneath. Bigger than mine, no doubt about it. Sofía sat on the edge of the bed and looked at the two of us with an expression I’d never seen on her before: focused, hungry, happy in a way that went beyond desire.

—Come closer to him —she told me softly—. On your knees.

I moved closer. Dropped to my knees in front of Rodrigo. He put a hand on my hair, gently. Looked me in the eyes for a moment and then, without saying anything, lifted my face and bent down to kiss me. It was a direct kiss, with tongue, no hesitation. His beard scraping my face, his mouth tasting of something I didn’t recognize. Nothing like I’d expected.

Sofía let out a soft sound behind us.

When Rodrigo straightened up, his cock was right in front of my face. It was fully hard now, rigid against his belly, the head swollen and red, a drop of fluid shining at the tip. I took it in my hand—hot, heavier than I’d expected—and brought it to my mouth.

—Only if you want to —Sofía said from the bed.

I wanted to.

I stuck out my tongue and caught that drop first. Salty, thick. Then I opened my mouth and took it in. The first contact was strange for exactly two seconds. Hot, solid, with a taste unlike anything I could have imagined beforehand. The skin sliding against my tongue, the weight filling my mouth, the thick vein underneath throbbing against my palate. Then the strangeness disappeared and something else remained: a new, almost total focus on something right in front of me that demanded all my concentration.

Sofía knelt beside me.

—Like that —she whispered, showing me with her voice what she wanted—. Slowly. Take your time. Suck him the way you like to be sucked. With the tongue underneath. That’s it. Now deeper. A little more. Breathe through your nose.

I learned as I went. I pushed him further in until the head touched the back of my throat and I had to pull away gagging. Rodrigo waited. Sofía stroked my back. I tried again, this time slower, relaxing my jaw, letting it go in farther. Saliva ran down my chin and onto his balls. Rodrigo started moving his hips, very gently, fucking my mouth with short thrusts while holding my head with both hands.

—Beautiful —Sofía whispered—. Look at you. You’re gorgeous.

She pulled me away for a moment, wiped my chin with her thumb, and made me stand up. She guided me to the bed, had me lie face down with my hips raised and my knees apart. Pillow under my stomach. Face against the sheet. Everything ready.

I heard Rodrigo position himself behind me. The sound of lube. His fingers—thick, thicker than Sofía’s—going in first one, then two, finding and immediately hitting that spot she’d taught my body to recognize. I let out a long moan against the sheet.

—He’s ready —Sofía told Rodrigo in a calm, almost proud voice—. I’ve been preparing him all week. You can start.

I felt the head of his cock pressing against me, thick, slick. He pushed slowly. The first resistance gave way with a small burn, and then the head slipped in all at once. I shouted something into the sheet—I don’t even know what—and he stopped.

—Breathe —Sofía said, crouching in front of me, taking my face in both hands—. Look at me. Here.

I looked at her. I breathed. Rodrigo pushed another inch. Another. Another. Until I felt his hips pressing against my ass and his balls brushing underneath me. He was all the way inside.

—Perfect —Sofía whispered, still holding my face—. You’ve got it all inside. Look how well you’re taking it.

Rodrigo started moving. At first slowly, pulling almost all the way out and then driving back in to the hilt with a slowness that made me feel every inch. Then faster. His hands on my hips, yanking me back to ram it in deeper each time. The sound of his stomach hitting my ass filled the room. I moaned into the sheet, my cock hard as a rock beneath me, leaking pre-cum onto the cotton.

Sofía climbed onto the bed, positioned herself in front of me and spread her legs. Her pink cunt, swollen, shining with how wet she was. She grabbed my head and shoved it against her.

—Eat me —she ordered—. While he fucks you. Eat me good.

I stuck out my tongue and went after her clit. Every time Rodrigo thrust into me, my face sank deeper against her cunt. She moaned, gripping my hair, rocking her hips against my mouth. The taste of salt and musk, the cock filling me from behind, my own cock dripping underneath. It was too much. Everything at once.

—See? —Sofía whispered, tugging my hair so she could look me in the eyes—. I told you. Look what you’ve become. A beauty. A mouth and an ass waiting to be filled. Mine. All mine.

There was no cruelty in her voice. It was admiration, almost pride. As if she were watching someone who had finally arrived where he was supposed to be.

Rodrigo increased the pace. His thrusts were no longer careful: they were deep, hard, with a rhythm that ran up my spine. The mattress creaked. His fingers dug into my hips. Every time he drove in to the hilt, his cock struck that spot inside and tore a moan from me that I didn’t even try to control.

—I’m going to come —he said, voice rough—. Where?

—Inside —Sofía said without hesitation—. I want him full.

Rodrigo clenched his jaw, dug his fingers into my hips, and drove all the way in with a low groan I felt in my throat before I felt anything else. I felt the hot spurts unloading inside me, one after another, filling me. The sensation—hot, liquid, intimate in a new way—left me breathless.

He stayed inside for a moment, breathing hard, then withdrew slowly. A hot thread of semen slid down the inside of my thigh. Sofía let out a gasp at the sight.

—Look at that —she whispered—. Look at it dripping.

Rodrigo moved beside my face. His cock was still hard, now shining with lube and semen. He brought it to my mouth without saying a word. I opened. I cleaned it off completely with my tongue, swallowing the mixed taste, while Sofía touched me from below, her open hand against my belly.

Then she made me turn over. She lay me on my back, climbed on top and sat astride my face, her soaked cunt covering my mouth completely. With her other hand she grabbed my cock and started jerking me off fast, almost roughly. I ate everything I could—clit, lips, open pussy—with a sticky chin and my hips lifting on their own from the mattress. Rodrigo had sat down in the armchair in the corner, naked, watching us calmly, his cock still half hard resting on his thigh.

Sofía came first, pressing her cunt against my mouth with spasms, choking me for a moment with her thighs squeezing my head. I came seconds later—hard, long, with my ass clenching around the semen Rodrigo had left inside me and my mind completely blank—while she told me softly yes, like that, perfect, her boy.

***

Rodrigo dressed without hurrying, said goodnight to both of us and left. There was no long conversation afterward, no shared moment of reflection. He simply went, and we stayed.

Sofía took me to the bathroom, turned on the shower, put me under the hot water and stood beside me without saying anything for a while. She washed my hair the way you wash someone who is truly tired. With her fingers she cleaned me out inside, taking out what was left of Rodrigo’s cum with a tenderness that didn’t match anything that had just happened and yet matched all of it. Then she dried me off, took me to bed and lay down pressed against me.

—How are you feeling? —she asked.

I thought about the question more carefully than usual.

—Good —I said—. Weird. But good.

She rested her head on my shoulder.

—It was exactly how I imagined it —she said—. Better, actually. You had an incredible face when he came inside you.

Silence. I heard her breathe. The city made its background noise.

—How are you? —I asked.

She smiled against my skin.

—Very good —she answered—. I’d been waiting for this for a long time. And next time we’re going to ask him to bring a friend.

I lay there looking at the ceiling in the dark. My body exhausted, my ass still throbbing softly, my mind clear in a way I hadn’t expected. I thought about how I’d ended up here, about all the small steps Sofía had been placing without my realizing I was following them.

I didn’t feel ashamed. That surprised me more than anything else. I had expected shame, or at least something like it. But what was there instead was a kind of new clarity, like when you accept something you’ve been resisting for a long time without really knowing why you were resisting it.

Sofía fell asleep before I did.

I kept staring at the ceiling a little longer, thinking that the person who had walked into that apartment that morning was not exactly the same one who would get up the next day. And that, for some reason I still couldn’t quite name, didn’t seem bad to me.

It seemed like the beginning of something.