I Spied on Camila’s Mother, and She Looked Back at Me

Camila and I have been friends since first grade. We grew up almost like sisters, each of us adopted by the other’s parents, sleeping so many times at each other’s houses that we eventually stopped needing keys. I was twenty-seven and she was twenty-six when what I’m about to tell you happened, and we still had the habit of seeing each other several times a week and ending up sleeping at her place or mine after any night out.

Camila’s mother, Beatriz, is a striking woman. She’s forty-nine, but when the three of us go out to dinner, people think she’s just another friend. A firm body from years at the gym, big tits she never stopped showing beneath tight dresses, and a throaty laugh that made waiters come over without anyone calling them. I’d watched her since I was a girl without knowing that I was watching her.

The bachelorette party was for a friend from college. It started on a rooftop and ended at a club near downtown, with the two of us dancing among strangers and drinking pink cocktails whose contents we couldn’t identify. At four in the morning we got into a hired car, and since Camila’s parents’ house was ten blocks away, we went there to crash.

We came in making the kind of quiet you manage when there’s no balance left to truly be quiet. We laughed in the hallway, bumped into the living-room table, covered our mouths. Beatriz appeared in a pale robe, her hair loose over her shoulders, laughing at us.

—Did you girls make it back in one piece?

—In one piece and drunk, Mom—Camila answered.

Beatriz looked at me for a second too long, with a faintly crooked smile, and sent us off to bed. Camila dropped onto the mattress like a stone, still dressed. I took off my jeans, stayed in a tank top and panties, and lay down beside her. I could hear her heavy breathing. I could hear something else, too.

Murmurs came from the master bedroom. They weren’t Camila’s father’s snores; besides, he was at the country house that weekend. They were low voices, two voices, and something that sounded like muffled laughter against a pillow. Curiosity sparked between my legs.

I got up on tiptoe. Beatriz’s bedroom door was ajar, with a lamp lit inside. I approached, held my breath, and looked through the crack.

There wasn’t a man on the bed. There were two women. Beatriz, kneeling, her robe fallen to her waist, and another woman, a little younger, dark-haired, lying on her back with her legs spread and her hands buried in Beatriz’s hair. Beatriz was eating her pussy slowly, her head moving between the woman’s thighs, while the other bit the pillow to keep from screaming.

I stood frozen. I should have gone back to the bedroom, but I didn’t. Beatriz climbed up, settled herself on top of the other woman, and the two of them began rubbing pussy against pussy, their heavy tits hanging and touching as they kissed with their mouths still shiny. I had never in my life been attracted to a woman. There I was, standing in the hallway, watching my best friend’s mother fuck another woman, and I understood that I’d been lying.

I slipped my hand inside my panties. I was soaked. I touched my clit with two fingers, making tiny circles, watching Beatriz grab the other woman’s tits and pinch her nipples until she arched her back. I felt my legs opening on their own. I held my breath, pressed myself against the doorframe, and came standing there, covering my mouth with my other hand, with the image of Beatriz riding that woman and the wet sound of their bodies slapping together.

Before going back to Camila’s room, I thought I saw Beatriz turn her head and look straight toward the door. Everything inside me went cold. I got into bed with Camila and spent hours tossing and turning, touching myself again, my mouth shut and the sheets pulled up to my nose, until I made myself come a second time, even harder, and fell asleep with the smell of my own hand on the pillow.

***

A hand on my forehead woke me. I opened my eyes, and there was Beatriz, sitting on the edge of the bed in a champagne-colored silk dressing gown, her hair styled and smelling of fresh perfume. A breakfast tray waited on the nightstand.

—Camila left early with her father for the country house—she said. —I thought you were moaning in your sleep, so I came in to see if you were all right.

I wanted to die. She brushed my bangs away from my forehead with a gentle gesture, and when her hand moved down my cheek, my fingers caught around her wrist without thinking.

—It’s gotten so long; it must keep you from seeing properly—she said, her voice lower than necessary. —Maybe that’s why things get confused for you at night sometimes.

I turned red all the way to my neck. She noticed, laughed softly, and didn’t take her hand away.

—Stay in bed. Eat something first.

But her fingers were already moving down my neck, over my shoulder, and when they reached the first button of my pajamas, they opened it without asking permission. I was breathing hard. Beatriz opened her dressing gown with her other hand and showed me the tits I’d seen the night before, round, their nipples already waking, hard.

—Do you want to touch them?—she asked, looking me in the eyes. —You were watching them a lot last night.

—You saw me—I said, my voice trembling.

—I saw you. And I liked you looking at me.

I lifted my hand and grabbed one of her tits. It was heavy and hot, and the nipple pressed into my palm. She let out a short sigh, as if she’d been waiting weeks for that sigh, and finished opening my pajama top. She slipped a hand between my legs, over my panties, and found the wetness immediately.

—Look at you, you little tease.

She pulled the fabric aside and buried two fingers in me, just like that, without any preamble. I cried out softly into the pillow. She pulled them out glistening, brought them to her mouth, and sucked them as if they were ice cream. Then she took my hand, brought my fingers to her own pussy, and pushed them inside herself, showing me how. She was soaked, hotter than I was, and when I touched her, the breath left her.

—Take everything off—she told me.

She tore off my tank top and panties in one pull. She spread my legs, settled herself on top of me, and rubbed her pussy against mine, moving slowly at first, then faster. Our pussies stuck together and came apart with a wet sound, and Beatriz’s tits bounced against mine. She spoke into my ear as she moved.

—Tell me what you saw last night. Tell me what turned you on.

—I saw you eating her pussy—I said, swallowing hard. —I saw you fucking her.

—And did you want to be in her place?

—Yes.

—You’re going to be better off.

She moved off me, knelt between my legs, and lowered her mouth. She licked my clit with the tip of her tongue, then with her whole flat tongue, then sucked it completely. I grabbed her head with both hands. She slipped two fingers inside me while she sucked, moving them in a curve, searching for a spot inside me I hadn’t known I had. When she found it, my entire back arched. I came screaming, no longer trying to hold back, biting the pillow because I didn’t care about anything anymore.

Beatriz rose smiling, her face wet. She made me taste myself from her mouth. I kissed her, sucking her tongue and tasting myself, and she laughed softly.

—Now you do it.

I pushed her onto her back. I had never been with a woman, and my hands were shaking, but the anatomy was my own. I spread her legs. Beatriz’s pussy was thick, with dark, gleaming lips and her clit already peeking out. I lowered my face. I licked her the way I remembered being licked, clumsy at first, then with more enthusiasm. She guided me with one hand on the back of my neck, without hurrying me.

—That’s it, slower. There. Suck it.

I did as she said. I slipped two fingers inside her the way she had done to me and searched for the spot inside, curling my fingers. Beatriz began moving her hips against my face, grabbing her tits with both hands and squeezing her nipples. When she came, she clamped her legs around my head and soaked my entire chin. She stayed there trembling for a few seconds, laughing softly.

—Good student.

She got up and opened the drawer of the nightstand. She took out a harness and a thick dildo, longer than anything that had ever been inside me, and coated it with cream.

—Relax. You’re going to like this.

She fastened the harness around her waist, climbed between my legs, lifted them by the ankles, and placed the tip at my entrance. She pushed. It went in all at once, completely, and I screamed so loudly that even she covered my mouth with one hand, laughing, to muffle me. She began fucking me like that, braced on her arms, looking at me, her tits swaying over mine.

—Do you like it, little slut? Say it.

—I like it—I panted. —I love it. Don’t stop.

She thrust in and out, deeper each time, faster each time, changing the angle, pressing my legs against her shoulders so she could get farther in. I grabbed her ass with both hands, pulled her against me, begged her for more. I came like that, with her buried to the hilt, my eyes squeezed shut and my nails digging into her back.

She didn’t stop. She turned me onto my stomach, lifted my hips, and pressed the tip of the dildo against my ass. She coated it with more cream, asked me with a kiss on the nape of my neck, and pushed slowly. At first I thought it wouldn’t go in. She pushed again, barely, and something opened. She began moving it there, her free hand between my legs rubbing my clit. I had never felt anything like it. I screamed into the pillow, my face wet, unable to tell where the pleasure was coming from. She made me come for the third or fourth time—I’d lost count—with my mouth open and the sheet soaked beneath my belly.

Then I turned over and asked her to sit on my face. She sat down. I grabbed her hips and licked all of her—her clit, her lips—soaking her with saliva, and she came over my mouth, squeezing my tits as she shook.

***

We stayed until noon, fucking at our leisure, knowing Camila and her father would be gone for hours. Beatriz told me, her head resting on my shoulder and one finger drawing circles on my belly, that she’d wanted me for years and never would have dared if I hadn’t spied on her that night. I told her I’d thought about her while touching myself twice before falling asleep. She laughed softly.

—Then it was worth not closing the door properly.

That wasn’t our only encounter. We invented excuses: I needed help with a purchase, I was teaching her how to use an app on her phone, I was bringing her a recipe. The risk of Camila finding out made us want each other more, not less. Beatriz taught me everything I didn’t know about a woman’s body, and I ended up learning so quickly that now I play teacher with the occasional friend. The road to pleasure between women is a one-way road, and I have no intention of turning back.