My Best Friend Dragged Me to Her Bed That Early Morning

My name is Lucía, I’m twenty-six years old, and although I’ve always been a compulsive reader of erotic stories, I had never sat down to write my own. Maybe it was shyness, maybe because some things feel more real when you dare to tell them. Tonight, at last, I decided to try.

I’m going to tell you what I experienced with my friends at university, almost seven years ago now. I’ve changed all the names out of respect, and because some of them still cross my path in a small city where nothing is ever completely forgotten.

My history with friendship was never simple. Ever since elementary school, I had trouble fitting in. I was the best student in the class, that serious girl who arrived in a uniform that was too perfectly ironed and a braid that was too tight. Bullying followed me for years: envious girls, cruel nicknames, the burden of being invisible to boys and an easy target for everyone else. By the end of high school, I was convinced my love life would start late—or never start at all.

But when I entered university, I decided to reinvent myself. I let my hair grow, learned how to put on makeup by watching tutorials until three in the morning, bought skirts, low-cut blouses, and pretty underwear that no one was going to see but that I put on every day. I wanted to be someone else, and to some extent I managed it.

On the first day of classes, I sat alone, as usual. I was arranging my notebooks when a shadow fell over the desk. I looked up and nearly dropped my pencil.

She was an incredibly tall girl—she must have been six foot three or four—with almost platinum-blond hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. Her eyes were such a pale blue they seemed transparent, and she wore a tight black athletic top that revealed the beginning of her abs. Pale skin, broad shoulders shaped by someone who trained seriously.

“Is this seat taken?” she asked, placing both hands on my desk.

“No, of course not. I only left my backpack there so I wouldn’t have to put it on the floor,” I replied.

“I’m Romina,” she said, sitting down as if she didn’t care that half the classroom was staring at her.

“Lucía. Nice to meet you. How tall are you? You look enormous.”

“Six foot four. I scare people off, I know.”

She smelled of citrus perfume, fresh and far too strong for a hot morning. At exactly five foot three, I looked like a supporting character beside her. But something in her smile made me feel, for the first time in years, that someone was looking at me with genuine curiosity.

Romina was one of those women who took up space without apologizing. She played on the university volleyball team, had wide hips and a firm ass that looked sculpted on purpose. Her tits were small, almost flat, which she took with humor. She said she preferred running to falling over. I, on the other hand, had a small but well-proportioned bust, a defined waist, and an athletic body thanks to years of swimming.

We became friends quickly. More than quickly: inseparable. She had a retinue of guys following her around, tall athletes with white smiles and big hands, and because I was always glued to her, I started getting looks too. It was a new life, a version of myself I didn’t know.

I had a few encounters with basketball players, all tall, all temporary. I never wanted a boyfriend, a partner, or a label. Just sex, long conversations in the early hours, and the freedom of not having to answer to anyone. Romina and I talked about it, laughing, comparing stories with a frankness other people might have found obscene.

“There’s nothing like a volleyball player’s legs, Luli,” she would tell me. “They ram into you like they’re trying to win a point. They drive their cocks into you like the whole match depends on it.”

“Try a six-foot-five point guard,” I’d answer. “He lifts you into the air and fucks you while you’re hanging from his neck. It lasts three minutes, but it’s like a trip into space. You feel his whole cock moving inside you as if it were rearranging your organs.”

Romina laughed until her eyes watered. She said that, at her size, she could never let herself be lifted like that.

***

The night everything changed, we were at her house. We had invited a few more girls; there had been music, cheap wine, and lots of tequila. At two in the morning, only she and I were left on the living-room sofa. The others had left in taxis or fallen asleep in borrowed rooms.

Romina was wearing a long, sleeveless black sweatshirt that covered her to halfway down her legs. Beneath it, a light-blue cotton pair of shorts barely showed whenever she crossed her legs. I was much drunker than I was willing to admit, and I couldn’t stop looking at the line of her shaved armpit, the defined muscles of her arm, that skin so white it almost seemed lit from within.

She yawned, stretched her arms, and let her head rest against the back of the sofa. She closed her eyes. And I, without understanding why, without my body consulting me, leaned toward her. My head sank in slow motion until my nose buried itself in the hollow of her armpit.

She smelled of clean skin, mild soap, and a sweet note I couldn’t identify. It was an intimate, animal, perfect smell. I’m not doing this. I can’t be doing this. But I stuck out my tongue and ran it once, very slowly, over the smooth, slightly salty skin in the hollow of her arm.

Romina opened her eyes.

She didn’t say anything at first. She only turned her head slowly and looked at me with an expression I had never seen on her before. Then, without taking her eyes off me, she raised her arm a little higher and adjusted my face with her other hand.

“You’re such a dirty girl, Luli,” she murmured. “If you’re going to lick it, do it properly.”

I ran my tongue over it again, this time with less embarrassment. I kissed her armpit and lightly bit the edge. She was breathing harder. I could feel her pulse beneath my lips.

And then, without warning, she stood up. I slipped from her arm and fell clumsily against the sofa. The impact sobered me a little. When I raised my head, Romina was standing in front of me, looking at me with a smile that wasn’t kind.

“I didn’t know my best friend was such a little slut,” she said in a low voice. “Give me my taste back.”

She took my face in both hands, leaned in, and shoved her tongue down my throat. It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It was an invasion. I felt her saliva pass into mine, forcing me to swallow, leaving me breathless. Her tongue churned through my mouth, touched my palate, and pressed mine against my teeth. I closed my eyes instinctively. One of her hands moved down my neck, gripped my jaw, and held me open so I could do nothing but receive the mouth that sucked and bit me. I felt her teeth sink into my lower lip, pull it outward, then release me with a wet snap.

When she pulled away, a strand of saliva fell onto my chin. She grabbed me by the legs and back, lifted me as if I weighed nothing, and carried me to her bedroom. I didn’t know whether what I felt was fear, desire, or both at once. I only knew that my pussy was wet—already soaked through, leaking into the lace of my panties.

She threw me onto the bed. The door slammed shut.

“Now you’re going to see what I do to little sluts like you,” she said as she pulled her sweatshirt over her head.

My yellow one-piece dress, the one I had chosen so carefully that afternoon, didn’t survive. She grabbed it by the neckline and tore it in one pull all the way to my waist. She left me wearing only my black lace panties. Then, with chilling calm, she took off my sandals and grabbed me by the ankles to drag me down to the foot of the bed. She bent my legs, spread them, and stared at me for a few seconds as if studying a map.

“Look at you, you filthy little whore. Your panties are soaked. You can see your whole pussy through the lace.”

She pulled my panties off slowly, as if peeling a piece of fruit, and lifted them to her nose. She inhaled deeply, closed her eyes, then rubbed them over my face.

“Smell yourself. This is how you smell when a woman gets you horny.”

I was left completely naked, my knees bent and my breathing ragged. She undressed in front of me. I saw her as she really was, without the armor of clothing: broad shoulders, a flat stomach, fine blond hair between her legs, barely a golden shadow over the pink lips of her pussy. Her small tits stood up on their own, with pale-pink, hard, pointed nipples. She hypnotized me.

She crouched between my legs before I could close them. She spread my pussy lips with two fingers and stared at me as if calculating something. Then she ran her tongue over me—flat and broad, from bottom to top, from my asshole to my clitoris. One long lick that made me arch my back.

“You’re burning up,” she said, her mouth already glistening with me.

And she buried herself in me. She sucked my clitoris until she took it completely into her mouth, nipped it with her lips, and lashed it with the tip of her tongue. She shoved two fingers into me all at once, to the knuckles, and began moving them forward while she kept sucking me. I screamed. I really screamed, with my throat wide open, because no one had ever eaten my pussy like that, no one had ever searched for that spot inside me with the precision of someone who knew exactly where to press. In less than two minutes, I was coming on her face, my whole body trembling, and she didn’t stop. She kept sucking me, kept moving her fingers, until a second orgasm shook me right after the first and made me cry without knowing why.

When she lifted her face, it was glistening all the way to her chin, soaked with my release. She slowly licked her lips, never taking her eyes off me.

“That was only the appetizer, Luli.”

She turned toward the nightstand drawer, and when she turned back, she was wearing a black harness with a thick, long, intimidating rubber dildo. It had to be eight inches long, and the girth made me close my legs reflexively. My entire body reacted before my mind did. I tried to close my legs and couldn’t: she forced them open again with her knees, settled between my thighs, and ran the tip of the rubber cock all over my pussy, wetting it with my own release.

“Open your mouth. Suck it first. I want you to know what’s going inside you.”

She climbed up and straddled my chest, pressing the tip of the dildo to my lips. I opened my mouth and she pushed it in, slowly at first, then farther and farther, until I felt the base against my throat and gagged. She pulled it out and let me cough, then pushed it back in. She drove it into me and pulled it out again, watching me with cruel calm, tugging my hair to set the rhythm. Saliva ran from the corner of my mouth, pooled on my chin, and dripped down my neck onto my tits.

“That’s it, little slut, suck Mommy properly. Learn, because it’ll hurt more later if it isn’t nice and soaked.”

When she pulled it out, the whole rubber shaft was gleaming with my spit. She laid me back again, yanked my legs open, and penetrated me without warning.

The pain was sharp. My flesh burned, my thighs trembled, and tears spilled out without my permission. I felt that rubber cock forcing its way inside me, stretching my pussy to its limit, the tip striking somewhere deep that I hadn’t known existed. I begged her to stop. I told her it hurt, that it was too much, that this was my first time with anything like it. Romina didn’t listen. She pinned my wrists to the mattress with one hand. Her eyes were bright, her jaw clenched. She began with short thrusts, then longer ones, then with her whole hips, pulling the cock almost all the way out and driving it back in in one motion, her hips smacking against mine with a wet, obscene sound.

And then, slowly, the pain began to change. It was one of those strange transformations you don’t understand until you experience them. My pussy settled around it, opened, stopped defending itself. Wetness came little by little, until every thrust made a sloshing sound. Little by little, I also began spreading my legs wider, relaxing my back, lifting my hips to chase the cock that was destroying me. Letting her move in and out with a rhythm that felt increasingly necessary.

“You like it, don’t you, little slut?” she said, still not smiling, never stopping fucking me. “Tell me you like it.”

“I like it, Romina, I like it,” I gasped.

“Shut up, slave. I’m not Romina now. Call me Mistress.”

“Mistress, I’m yours,” I answered, my voice breaking.

“Who does this pussy belong to?”

“You, Mistress. It’s all yours.”

“Say it again. Louder.”

“It’s yours, Mistress, my pussy is yours, fuck me, don’t stop!”

She released my wrists and grabbed my tits, squeezing and twisting my nipples between her fingers as she fucked me faster and faster. She hoisted my legs onto her shoulder and folded herself over me until I was doubled in two, my knees pressed against my own tits. From there, she drove into me all the way, again and again, without stopping. I could see her face up close, her teeth clenched, a thread of saliva falling onto my face whenever she panted. I felt the tip of the dildo pounding against my uterus, a dull pain mixed with a new pleasure that made me lose the ability to speak.

I can’t fully describe what happened next. I had orgasms in a chain. One, two, three—I lost count. My body shook, my legs closed on their own, and she opened them again with humiliating ease. During one of those orgasms, I felt myself drench her completely, a hot gush pouring out of me and soaking her belly and thighs. I didn’t know I could do that. She laughed, ran a hand over her stomach, and licked her fingers.

“Look at you, you little filthy squirter. Squirters like you are my favorites.”

She turned me over as if I were a rag doll, put me on all fours, shoved my face against the mattress, and penetrated me from behind again. From there, she fucked me deeper. She grabbed my hair and pulled me backward until I arched, then put two fingers in my mouth for me to suck while she thrust into me. Her sweat fell over my back, between my buttocks, and onto my face when she leaned down to bite my nape. We were both drenched, and the smell of the room was dense, hot, perfectly real: pussy, sweat, saliva, the citrus note of her perfume mingling with pure sex.

When she grew tired, she pulled the harness out with a rough movement. I lay there panting, my pussy throbbing like a second heart, swollen and open, feeling the air touch the walls that had been full a minute earlier. She grabbed me by the hair and dragged me across the bed until my head was at the foot of the mattress. Then she climbed up, spread her buttocks with her hands, and sat her ass over my mouth.

“Clean me, bitch. Clean me properly. And don’t forget the back hole.”

She smelled of sweat, skin, of herself. I stuck out my tongue. I ran it along her cleft, over her folds, over everything her body offered me. Her pussy was small, with very fine blond hair, and tasted faintly citrusy mixed with salt. I thrust my tongue inside her, pushed it as deep as I could, and moved it in circles until I felt her trembling against my face. Then I moved up to her clitoris, sucked it the way she had sucked mine, and she began moving her hips over my mouth, rubbing herself against me, fucking my face as if it were a toy.

“Higher, higher, suck my ass, you filthy girl.”

I ran my tongue over her asshole, first from the side, nervously, then pushed it inside. I felt it tighten around the tip of my tongue, felt Romina moan for the first time in earnest, a low, throaty moan. I buried my nose in her pussy while I ate her ass, and she held her head in both hands, crushing me beneath her, riding me with all her weight. Romina’s body pressing down on my face was nearly suffocating, but I didn’t want her to move. I wanted to drown down there. I felt her come over my mouth, her legs trembling, her release dripping down my chin to my neck.

When she stood up, I breathed as if I were surfacing from the bottom of a swimming pool. My face was soaked, my hair flattened, my lips swollen.

But she wasn’t finished.

She bound my wrists with two loops of duct tape. She did the same to my ankles. Then I heard a buzzing sound. A slim pink vibrator, about eight inches long, its tip moving like a curious finger. She turned me onto my back and folded my legs to my chest, leaving my ass completely exposed, my tight, virgin hole throbbing with fear.

“This is going to hurt at first. Afterward, you won’t want me to stop. Stay still.”

Something cold passed over the area, lubricant that made me flinch. I felt her finger—one at first—pushing into my hole, slowly opening me, going in to the knuckle. Then two. She opened me with both hands, stretched me, smeared lubricant inside me, prepared me with a patience she hadn’t shown all night. When she withdrew her fingers, she pressed the tip of the vibrator against me. I felt the buzzing first against my skin, then pushing, slowly entering a place I had never let anyone enter. I screamed. I begged her to stop. The duct tape scraped my wrists when I pulled against it, but I couldn’t move. She laughed softly and continued, millimeter by millimeter, until the pressure became something else, a kind of pleasure I hadn’t known existed. A pleasure that rose up my back, made me grit my teeth, made me come without anyone touching my pussy.

When the vibrator was completely inside me, she left it there, buzzing, and put the harness back on. She looked down at me, the rubber cock standing upright, still shining with saliva.

“Now, slave. Both holes at once. You’re going to learn who your Mistress is.”

She penetrated my pussy with the harness while the vibrator remained inside my ass. The sensation was something I have no words to name. Both holes filled, the vibration passing through the dividing wall, every thrust moving the vibrator too, my entire body turned into one exposed nerve. I passed out. I’m not exaggerating. My consciousness went out like a badly connected light. When I came to, Romina was still inside me, still fucking me, whispering things in my ear that I couldn’t understand. I lost the thread again. I passed out again.

***

I woke up in daylight. I was wearing a semitransparent red babydoll that wasn’t mine. My body smelled of her perfume. I had hickeys on my neck, breasts, and the inner sides of my thighs. A few scratches marked my hip. My pussy and ass were still throbbing, swollen, with that strange sensation of having been used to the limit. Romina slept behind me, naked, one hand resting on my stomach as if I were newly acquired property.

I should have been scared. I wasn’t. I turned over slowly, propped myself up on one elbow, and kissed her on the lips. She opened her eyes.

“Now you’re mine, Luli. I hope that’s clear.”

“I’m completely yours,” I replied. “Thank you for making me yours.”

She smiled. For the first time all night, it was a kind smile.

“I was very rough. I’ve always wanted to do this with you. When I was with a guy, I’d close my eyes and imagine it was your mouth making me come. That it was your tongue sucking my clitoris while some idiot fucked me from behind. I couldn’t hold out any longer.”

“Did you use the harness with them?” I asked, still dizzy.

“No, never. With them, I was always the one who sat on top, the one who let them fill my pussy, and that was it. But with you, I wanted to be something else. I wanted to fuck you myself. I wanted to mark you.”

“Until yesterday, I considered myself straight. Today I don’t know what I am.”

“You’re my little girl,” she said, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “I always knew I was bisexual. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want anything to change between us. But something was going to happen sooner or later.”

She slid her hand beneath the sheet, slipped it between my legs, and ran two fingers over my swollen pussy. She made me tremble. She brought her fingers to her mouth and sucked them slowly, never taking her eyes off me.

“And this is only the beginning, Luli.”

We went from friends to a couple in a matter of hours. I was twenty, she was twenty-three. We were together for three years—intense, devouring, full of experiments I had never imagined I would say yes to: threesomes with guys where she watched me suck a cock while fingering me, threesomes with girls where we shared one mouth between us, trips where we barely left the room and the concierge stopped looking us in the face.

Then, as happens with almost everything that burns that brightly, it went out. Romina got a scholarship in another city and accepted it without consulting me. We both cried at the airport, but we both knew it could no longer be sustained. Some loves only live in one room, one period of life, one young body that doesn’t want to ask itself any questions.

Today, at twenty-six, I still prefer women. I date girls, sometimes couples. But a blond armpit, citrus-scented sweat, and a low voice telling me “Mistress” return to my mind whenever I turn out the light. And they still make me close my legs, squeeze my thighs, slip my hand beneath my panties, and come by myself while thinking about the first time Romina destroyed me and put me back together in a single night.