I Learned My First Time by Spying in the Kitchen

That Friday in March, the assignment landed on the table at the bar near the university. A group project on the region’s ecosystems, due first thing Monday morning. Cami, Vale, Romi, and I looked at one another over our coffees and decided on the only thing we knew how to do: turn the assignment into an excuse.

“I’ve got the country house,” Cami said, already searching for her keys among the notes. “My parents are leaving for Europe tomorrow for their anniversary. Three whole days for us.”

I was nineteen, no longer a virgin, and yet there was one thing I hadn’t dared to do. I had never sucked anyone’s cock. I thought about it before going to sleep, my hand tucked into my panties, imagining what a hard cock would feel like against my tongue, what it would taste like, how I would hold back my gag reflex when it went deep. I imagined it with any guy I liked even a little. But between desire and action there was a gap I didn’t know how to cross. I needed to see it to understand.

We left the university in Cami’s car and stopped at each of our houses to notify our families and load our bags. By midafternoon we were taking the provincial highway with the windows down and the music loud enough to annoy the cars around us.

The country house appeared beyond a green gate and a path bordered by rosebushes. The house was colonial, with moss-colored walls and red tiles, and out front was a pool so clear you could see the tiles at the bottom. Marta and Hugo, the couple who looked after the property, were waiting for us on the porch. They helped us with our bags and withdrew with the politeness of people accustomed to receiving strangers.

We went up to the bedrooms on the first floor. There were three, each with its own bathroom, and a hallway opened onto a long balcony overlooking the grounds. Without discussing it, we divided ourselves between two rooms. I ended up with Romi; Cami and Vale took the one next door.

There was still enough sunlight to stretch out on the loungers. We went downstairs in bikinis, with suntan lotion and a pitcher of lemonade, and settled onto the deck as if we owned the whole place. That was when we saw him.

Iván was pruning the roses with his torso bare. Cami had told us about him in the car: the caretakers’ son, almost our age, who studied veterinary medicine sixty kilometers away and came back every weekend to help his parents. He had a swimmer’s back and hair that was too long, and he moved among the plants with a concentration that kept him from looking at us even once. His shorts outlined a bulge it was impossible not to measure with our eyes.

“I told you,” Cami murmured without opening her eyes.

“You told me too little,” Vale replied.

Romi laughed. I said nothing. I was calculating how long it would take him to meet my eyes and, above all, what I would do when he did.

That night, Marta and Hugo served us homemade empanadas and a pitcher of red wine on the veranda. Iván had invited two friends from town, who showed up with a guitar and a fire already built at the back of the grounds. Cami asked if we could join them. Marta looked at us as if she already knew the answer.

“Go on, girls. Don’t get in the pool at night.”

We crossed the grass barefoot, each of us carrying a blanket under one arm. The fire was small and smelled of eucalyptus. Iván set the speaker on a log and lowered the volume until we could hear the crickets. We sat in a circle. I ended up beside him, not by accident.

He didn’t say much at first. Then, when the guitar passed into his friend’s hands and the songs began, he leaned toward me and asked my name. I told him Florencia. He said he liked that name. He poured me wine from a bottle he had produced from somewhere and offered me a plastic cup. We talked about animals, university, and the ridiculous idea of doing serious research over a weekend.

“What if I kiss you instead of investigating?” he said at some point, with the most serious expression in the world.

“Try it,” I replied.

He kissed me. It was a slow kiss, his hands still, as if he were taking my measure. Then he took me by the nape and went deeper. His tongue sought mine and wouldn’t let it go. I tasted the wine, felt the heat of the fire on one side of my face and the chill of the grass on the other. When we parted, he wore the smile of someone who knew he had won something. My panties were already wet, my clitoris awake against the seam of my bathing shorts.

At one-thirty, the girls decided to go upstairs. Iván offered to walk me up. We walked along the rosebush path hand in hand, without speaking. At the door to my room he kissed me again, pressing me against the wood, and slid one hand around my waist and down until he cupped one of my buttocks over my shorts. He pressed me against him and positioned my pelvis so I could feel him. His cock pressed straight, hard, and thick against my belly, separated from my skin by barely two layers of fabric. I measured it with my hipbone, running along it unintentionally as I moved an inch. I was drenched; it was running down the inside of my thigh.

And then we heard the noise.

It came from the kitchen, one floor below, and at first I thought it was the refrigerator. Then it was another sound. A muffled, restrained moan. Then a woman’s voice saying something that couldn’t be made out but was perfectly clear all the same. “Like that, like that, give me all of it,” was what I managed to decipher.

Iván went still. So did I. We looked at each other. And, without saying a word, we went downstairs barefoot.

The kitchen opened onto a large dining room separated by a thick white-painted masonry column. The lights were off, but a table lamp on the other side cast a long shadow across the tiles. We pressed ourselves against the column. Iván was holding my hand too tightly.

They were there. Esteban and Lucía. Cami’s parents. He was naked from the waist down, sitting on the edge of the long dining table, his shirt open and his chest gleaming with sweat. His cock was hard and pointing upward, thick, with prominent veins and a swollen glans wet with her saliva. Lucía was kneeling in front of him, wearing a robe with the belt undone, her shoulders bare and one breast exposed, heavy, its dark nipple erect. Her hands rested on Esteban’s thighs and her face was against his crotch, and she moved with the calm of someone in no hurry to finish.

She held his cock at the base with one hand and licked it slowly. She ran her flat tongue along its entire length, from his balls to the tip, and when she reached the top she lingered at the frenulum, making short circles with the tip of her tongue as if she were licking an ice cream. Then she opened her mouth and took him in without hurry, lowering as far as she could, until she felt the glans against her throat, and there she stayed for a moment, her nose buried in his hair, before rising again and letting him slide out with a strand of saliva hanging from her lip. Esteban’s head was thrown back, his eyes closed, one hand tangled in her hair—not pulling, simply resting there, as if he didn’t want to set the rhythm but merely be present.

“Not so fast,” I heard him say in a broken voice. “Stay there, suck me gently. Don’t make me come yet.”

Lucía obeyed. She stayed with her mouth closed around the base, his entire cock inside her, and from there she licked him with her tongue tucked beneath it, the tip searching out the most sensitive spot. When she finally moved upward, she withdrew just slightly and let a thick strand of saliva fall from her lower lip to the tip, then spread it with her hand in a slow, slippery motion that made his thighs tremble. Then she took him whole again, and with her other hand she grabbed his balls, held them, and massaged them with her thumb while she kept sucking.

“You suck me so well, my love,” Esteban said through clenched teeth. “Who taught you to suck it like that? Come on.”

Lucía laughed with her mouth full. The vibration pulled a moan from him that bounced off the masonry. She pulled his cock out completely, held it against her cheek, kissed it the way you kiss a cheek, then ran her tongue over his balls, one first, then the other, and then took both into her mouth at once while shaking his cock with her hand in a tight, neat motion.

I didn’t realize I was breathing through my mouth. My panties had stuck between my lips, and I didn’t dare move to adjust them. Iván squeezed my hand and guided it to his crotch over his trousers. I felt him throbbing against my palm, even thicker than he had been a little earlier. I leaned forward slightly without taking my eyes off the scene and began moving my hand, squeezing his entire length through his jeans, feeling its full shape, the swollen glans at the top.

Esteban moaned softly. Lucía continued. Now she was jerking him with both hands, one above the other in a slow twisting motion, and licking along the side, her tongue grazing the swollen veins. That slowness was the key, I thought. Pleasure wasn’t about speeding up the tongue but stretching out time. Every pause mattered. You could look the other person in the face and eat slowly, as if it were a conversation. Spreading saliva over it wasn’t dirty; it was fuel.

Iván opened the button of my shorts blindly, without taking his eyes off the table. He slipped his hand inside and found my soaked panties. He reached underneath and touched my clitoris with two fingers, and that first direct contact almost made me cry out. I bit my lip. He began moving them in circles, slowly, learning from the rhythm we were watching. He lowered one finger, pushed it into me without resistance, pulled it out glistening, and brought it back up to my clitoris. I didn’t let go of his cock for a second.

We stayed that way for I don’t know how long. Five minutes, ten. Lucía took his entire cock into her mouth again and held it in her throat until her eyes filled with tears. Esteban came without warning, with a strangled grunt, and she didn’t pull away. She endured it, swallowed, and kept sucking the tip while his legs shook, then removed the last drops with her hand, brought them to her mouth, kissed him again, and stroked his face as if comforting him. He laughed quietly. He whispered something in her ear. Lucía answered with a longer laugh.

Iván and I went upstairs without looking at each other. At the door to my room, he pressed me against him once more, so hard that his cock dug into my stomach, and told me “tomorrow” in a hoarse voice. Then he went down the hall, adjusting his trousers.

Romi was already asleep. I lay down with my panties wet and my heart in my throat. I took them off beneath the sheets, spread my legs, and pushed two fingers inside me, while with my other hand I punished my clitoris, thinking about Lucía’s tongue moving up that cock, thinking about how hot and heavy it must have felt against her palate, thinking about Iván. I came quickly the first time, biting the pillow. The second took longer, with my fingers deeper inside, searching for the spot that made me arch. I worked the third one slowly, imitating the calm I had seen, and when it came it was long and muffled, my whole body tense, before I could close my eyes.

***

The next morning, Cami’s parents left early. We went out to have breakfast on the porch and watched them load their suitcases into the car, thanking Marta for preparing a thermos of coffee. Lucía looked at me for a second longer than necessary. I don’t know if it was intentional. I lowered my eyes to my cup.

We did the research with surprising discipline. We walked around the grounds taking notes, photographed birds, identified shrubs, found a viper that made us scream and a wasp nest that we avoided by two meters. Romi carried the notebook. Vale had the phone. Cami supplied the scientific names she remembered from some textbook. I was thinking about something else, and they all knew it.

“Did you fuck him last night?” Vale asked while noting down an orchid.

“No.”

“But?”

“But something.”

Cami laughed. Romi looked at me curiously. I didn’t tell them about the kitchen. That I kept to myself.

We had a barbecue for lunch that Hugo prepared in the outdoor kitchen. Iván wasn’t there. Cami told me he had gone into town to buy something for his mother. He came back in the afternoon, when we were already in the pool, and stood on the veranda for a moment, looking at me openly. I waved to him. He answered with a nod, as if we shared a secret none of the girls knew.

That night, a second bonfire. Iván’s friends showed up with beer this time. The moon was enormous. We danced on the grass, sang songs none of us knew all the words to, and lay on our backs searching for shapes in the stars.

Iván beckoned me. We walked along the path until we were apart from the circle of firelight. He kissed me against the trunk of an ash tree and slid his hand inside my bikini. His finger found me effortlessly, slipping between my soaked lips and entering up to the knuckle. I had been wet from the moment I saw him cross the grounds. I bit his neck and grabbed his cock over his shorts. It was hard again, and now I knew it.

“I want to go to the kitchen,” I told him.

He looked at me without understanding.

“The kitchen. You and me. I want to suck you there.”

He understood. His breath caught for a second.

We crossed the grass without holding hands so as not to attract attention. We climbed the three steps to the veranda. I pushed open the kitchen door and told him to sit on the edge of the dining table. The same table. The lamp was still the same, as if it had been waiting for us.

I unbuttoned his jeans without hurry. I lowered the zipper tooth by tooth. When I pulled down his underwear, his cock sprang out, hard, thicker than I had calculated, with a purplish glans and a clear drop at the tip. I looked at it. I had never had one so close to my face and hard at the same time. I stayed kneeling for a long time, looking at it without touching it yet. Iván watched me as if he didn’t know what was going to happen and was afraid to speak. I kissed his thigh above the knee and slowly moved upward to the beginning of his groin. I licked the skin beside it, not the cock. I licked his balls first, one with my broad tongue, then the other. I heard him moan softly.

I did everything I had seen. I gripped the base with my right hand, firmly, and started at the bottom with my flat tongue, moving very slowly upward along the thick vein running down the side. When I reached the top, I kissed it the way you kiss a mouth, my lips closed around the glans. I opened slowly. I took it into my mouth and lowered as far as I could, staying there for a moment, feeling the bulge against the back of my palate, the hot flesh pulsing between my tongue and the teeth I had learned to keep out of the way. I remembered not to bite. I stayed still with my mouth full, as she had, and ran my tongue beneath it. Iván clenched his fists against the edge of the table.

I let him go. A strand of saliva fell from my lip to the tip, shining, and I wasn’t embarrassed. I spread it with my hand, giving his cock a slippery fist while licking the tip in short circles. I took him again. I changed the rhythm whenever it seemed he was about to come: when his moans grew more frequent, I pulled away, jerked him with my hand, and licked his balls until his breathing changed. When he calmed down, I took him deep again. I remembered the pause, remembered the calm, remembered the hand resting in her hair.

I took his hand and placed it on my head. I told him with my eyes to use it. He understood. He began setting my rhythm gently, barely squeezing the nape of my neck, pushing me a little deeper each time. I let myself go. I felt his cock deeper, in my throat, and fought the urge to cough. I closed my eyes. When I opened them again, I looked up at him with my mouth full and saw his face undone with pleasure, his mouth open, his eyes half-closed.

Iván didn’t last long. But before he came, he said my name twice, and for the first time I understood why some women speak of pleasure as a kind of power. I felt the first contraction at the base with my hand before he could warn me, and I took him all the way in just as he started to release. He filled my mouth suddenly, hot and thick, and kept going, jet after jet, more than I had calculated. I swallowed because I wanted to. I swallowed everything. I kept sucking the tip slowly, drawing out the last drops, and he trembled all over, hypersensitive, with a low moan that came from somewhere deeper inside. I stroked his face as I had seen her do. He laughed softly, just like his boss without knowing it. He helped me stand. He kissed my forehead. Then he kissed my mouth without disgust, seeking the taste that remained.

“No one’s ever done that to me,” he said. “Not like that.”

“Me neither,” I replied.

He raised his eyebrows. He said nothing.

He slipped his hand beneath my bikini bottoms while I was still kneeling in front of him. He found my clitoris with his thumb and pushed two fingers inside me at the same time. I didn’t need much. I came biting his shoulder, squeezing his fingers with my pussy, pressing my mouth against his neck so I wouldn’t scream in Cami’s parents’ kitchen. My knees buckled. He held me by the waist until it passed.

We went up to the bedroom with our clothes only half-adjusted. In the hallway he pressed me against the wall once more and whispered in my ear, “Tomorrow in the car.” I didn’t understand what he meant at the time.

***

On Sunday afternoon, Cami told us she was staying behind to close up the house with Marta, and that Iván would take me into the city. Vale and Romi left in another car with a friend who came to pick them up.

Iván drove with one hand. I watched the fields through the window, my hair still damp from the last swim, feeling my nipples harden beneath my shirt simply from remembering the night before. After twenty minutes, without thinking too much about it, I unfastened my seat belt and leaned over his lap.

“You’re going to crash,” he said with a tight smile.

“You’re not going to crash,” I replied.

I unbuttoned his jeans, lowered the zipper, and freed his cock again. It was already half-hard just from seeing me lean over. I took it in my right hand and ran my tongue from base to tip in one long line. This time I knew what I was doing. I took it into my mouth and felt it become fully hard within seconds, swelling against my tongue, throbbing against my palate. The pause, the tongue, the rhythm. I lowered to the bottom, rose slowly, made short circles around the glans with the tip of my tongue, spit a little saliva, and spread it with my hand while I kept sucking the tip.

His fingers tightened around the steering wheel. He accelerated unintentionally, then eased off. I heard him breathing as if it were difficult. He put his free hand in my hair, not to push, but to hold on. I went lower, took him to my throat, and stayed there, swallowing around him, as I had learned two nights before by watching a woman who didn’t even know she had been teaching me. Iván made a sound I had never heard from him before.

I switched hand for mouth and mouth for hand, alternating without giving him a predictable second’s respite. I licked his balls above his open underwear, bit the skin of his groin with my teeth covered by my lips, then went back up. His thighs tensed. I felt his cock throb three times against my tongue and understood that he was close. I took him all the way in and held on.

He came before we reached the city, with a long moan he couldn’t contain, and filled my mouth for the second time in twenty-four hours. I swallowed without stopping sucking. I kept licking the tip softly until he pushed me away slightly, exhausted, laughing breathlessly. I settled back into my seat, wiped the corner of my mouth with my thumb, and put it in my mouth. And for the first time, I understood that I had learned something that was mine now.

When he dropped me off at my house, he looked at me for a long moment.

“Good luck with the research,” he said.

I smiled at him.

“I got a nine.”

“How do you know?”

“I know.”

I climbed the steps of the building with my notes in one hand and my bag in the other. In the elevator I looked at myself in the mirror. I had the face of someone who had stopped having a single unanswered question.