My Best Friend’s Last Gift Wasn’t the Bracelet

Hello, I’m writing here again because I feel like it’s the only place where I can tell these things without everyone looking at me funny the next day. What happened to me a few weeks ago is still spinning around in my head, and I need to get it out somehow.

So you can place me, call me Sol. I’m twenty-six years old, I’m five foot five, I wear my brown hair halfway down my back, and my eyes are the color my friends call “tired honey.” For two years now I’ve been going to the gym five times a week, so my legs and my ass are the only things I’m proud of when I look in the mirror. My breasts are small, but I like them that way: two firm tits, with pink, sensitive nipples that get hard from nothing. I’ve worked at an insurance company for four years and share a desk with the woman who is the star of all this.

I’m going to call her Renata in these pages.

In the story I posted last time, I told how I ended up in the gym locker rooms with one of the instructors, how she ate my cunt against the tiles until she made me tremble. After posting it, I needed to tell someone flesh and blood, and the only person I could trust was Renata. We have lunch together every day since I started, we know things about each other nobody else knows, and when I told her in that corner café I thought she was going to stand up and leave.

She didn’t. She laughed, took a sip of her water, and told me something I’ve been replaying ever since.

—Relax, Sol. I’m more open-minded than you think. What matters is that you enjoyed it.

That was all. She changed the subject and we kept talking about the new client and a birthday party neither of us wanted to go to. I thought it ended there. I was wrong.

The next day, at lunch, she set her fork down on the salad and looked at me over the sunglasses.

—Can I ask you something without you hating me? Is it true that with a woman it feels better than with a man?

I felt my face heat up. The paper napkin stuck to my fingers.

—Do you want me to answer seriously?

—Seriously.

—For me, yes —I told her—. I’ve been with plenty of guys and none of them ever made me come the way Daniela did. With a cock inside me I never got to shake like that. Never. Why do you ask?

She shrugged as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Then she dropped the line that changed everything.

—Curiosity. And I’ll confess that once in a while I watch girl-on-girl porn and get wetter than I should. A friend once told me the same thing you just did. And ever since then I’ve had this thorn stuck in me.

I didn’t know what to say. I drank water. I looked at the ceiling. I looked at her, and she was still chewing her lettuce like nothing.

I have to describe her, because otherwise it doesn’t make sense. Renata is twenty-nine, tall, naturally blonde, and her green eyes look ridiculously good against her slightly tanned skin. She’s one of those women who walk into a room and everyone turns their head without meaning to. Small breasts, defined waist, round hips, a perky ass that makes her dress pants fit like they were painted on. In the office the coworkers stare at her when she passes and more than one time I’ve seen the outline of a cock pressing against a pair of pants. She knows it. She laughs about it. She uses it.

After that conversation she started playing with me in a way I’m not even sure I fully understood.

***

The photos arrived on my WhatsApp after nine at night. She took them in the bathroom mirror, with the warm light of the wall sconce on, dressed in new lingerie she said she bought for “weekends.” Black lace bralettes with her nipples pushing through the fabric, skin-colored sets that turned sheer against the light and showed the shadow of her shaved cunt, a short robe open to the navel, a thong so thin it split her ass in two.

—Do you think this seduces anyone? —she texted me.

I answered with an emoji and a neutral line, but in bed I stayed looking at those photos longer than I’m willing to admit. I slid my hand under my pajama pants and touched my clit thinking of her, imagining those tits in my mouth, imagining pulling down her thong with my teeth. She made me come biting my lip and then I deleted the chat and slept badly, with my cunt still throbbing.

The next day, at lunch, she’d ask me with the most innocent face in the world whether it worked. I’d nod and change the subject. She knew perfectly well what she was doing. The strange thing was that I kept letting her.

This went on for almost two months. Messages, photos, long looks in the office kitchen. Once she came up behind me to get the coffee carafe, put her hand on my waist so she wouldn’t bump into me, and left it there a second longer than necessary. I felt her tits brush my back and her breath on my neck. When she left, my thong was soaked and my legs were still shaking.

My birthday was November fourteenth.

***

I organized a small get-together at my apartment. Family, two cousins, a couple of work friends, the neighbor across the hall who always invites himself. I didn’t want a big party. I bought wine, made appetizers, ordered the cake. That day Renata arrived in a green dress that clung to her like a second skin and thin-strapped sandals that made her seem taller than she already was. She wasn’t wearing a bra and the tips of her nipples showed in the neckline.

—Happy birthday, Sol —she said, and kissed me very close to the corner of my mouth.

She didn’t let go of my hand right away.

All night we danced in the living room, ate too much, toasted everything. Every time I looked away, I felt her looking at me. Every time I looked at her, she was already waiting for my eyes with a small smile.

We sang happy birthday close to midnight. I blew out the candles on a wish I’d better not write down. We cut the cake. People left little by little, as they always do. My cousin was the last one from my family. After I closed the door behind her, I turned around and Renata was the only one left, sitting on my sofa, barefoot, with her glass resting on her knee and her dress hiked to mid-thigh.

—I saved your present for last —she said.

She went to her bag, took out a little box wrapped in silver paper, and came back. Inside was a delicate silver bracelet with a green stone, the color of her eyes.

—It’s beautiful, Renata. Thank you.

—I’m glad you like it. But that’s not all.

She pinned me with that half smile I already knew by heart.

—Close your eyes, Sol. And don’t open them until I tell you.

***

I did what she asked. I heard the rustle of fabric sliding over her skin, the dress falling to the floor. Bare feet on the parquet. Her breathing, now closer. The scent of her perfume, mixing with the wine still left in my glass.

—Now.

I opened my eyes.

She was standing in front of me in a black lace set that barely covered anything. The sheer bralette showing her stiff nipples, the matching lace thong pressed tight against her vulva, her long tanned legs to the very last inch. The lips of her cunt showed through the wet fabric, because she was already wet, and you could see a darker spot in the lace.

I couldn’t speak.

—I knew you’d like it —she said.

She took my hand without waiting for an answer and placed it right on one breast, over the bralette. I felt the hard nipple stabbing into my palm. Then she made me sit on the sofa, climbed on top of me astride, placed both hands on my shoulders, and stayed there for a second, looking down at me. The heat of her cunt cut through the fabric of my dress and burned my thighs.

—Are you sure, Renata? —I asked her in a thin voice.

She nodded slowly.

—I’ve been sure for months. You’re the one who takes your time realizing it. I’ve been touching myself thinking of you for months, Sol. I’ve been putting my fingers in myself imagining that mouth of yours between my legs for months.

She kissed me. And it wasn’t a timid kiss or one asking permission. She kissed me like someone who’d been thinking about it for a long time, her tongue in my mouth from the very first second, searching for mine, pushing, sucking. Her lips were softer than I’d imagined and tasted like red wine. She started moving on top of me, rubbing her cunt against my belly, setting the pace with her hips.

I ran my hand down her back, under the bralette, and felt her skin rise in goosebumps. She let out a rough moan I’d never heard from another woman. I pulled the garment off over her head, slowly, and she stayed sitting on me, with her small firm tits at my mouth level, the pink nipples pointing straight at my lips.

—Suck them —she said, without asking for anything in particular—. Suck them hard.

I kissed her neck first, left a wet mark under her ear. Then I went down. I ran my tongue around the left nipple, traced a slow circle, blew on it and licked again, and then took the whole thing into my mouth and carefully held it between my teeth. I heard her hold her breath and arch her back to get more breast into my mouth. I did the same with the other one, sucking hard, and at the same time I pinched the one I had free between my fingers, tugging at the nipple. She moaned louder and louder, grinding against me with her soaked cunt.

—Fuck, Sol —she panted—, fuck, like that, don’t stop.

When I lifted my face, her eyes were closed and her lips were parted.

—Wait —she said.

She stood up from my lap and pushed me back until I was lying on the sofa. She pulled my dress over my head in one sweep. Underneath, I wasn’t wearing a bra. Her gaze ran over me and lingered a second longer on my waist and on the stain already marking my thong.

—You’re prettier than I thought —she told me—. And you’re soaked, Sol. Look at you.

She ran two fingers over the fabric, pressing right where my clit throbbed, and I lifted my hips looking for more. She laughed softly.

—Relax. We have all night.

She kissed me again, on the mouth, and went downward. Along my neck, biting where my pulse beat. Along my collarbone. She stopped at my tits and sucked my nipples one by one, tugging them with her teeth until I complained. Down the center of my chest. To my navel, pushing her tongue inside me. To my hip. When she reached the edge of my underwear she stopped, lifted her face, and looked up at me, waiting for something. Her chin was already shiny with my wetness because she’d been pressing against the fabric.

Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.

I nodded, breathless.

She took off the only garment I had left, sliding it off with her teeth, very slowly, watching me. When the thong fell to the floor she spread my legs with both hands, opened them as wide as she could, and stayed there for an instant admiring my cunt, open, swollen, wet.

—You have such a delicious cunt, Sol. Pink. Shaved. And all shiny for me.

The first time her tongue touched me I thought I was going to faint. It wasn’t like with a man, it wasn’t like with the instructor. It was different. Renata knew exactly where and how much, and she took her time. She started licking me from bottom to top, one long, full stroke, gathering what was dripping from me, and ended by kissing the clit with closed lips. Then she opened her mouth and sucked me whole, drawing in the inner lips one by one.

—Oh God —I panted—, Renata, please…

She licked me slowly, then fast, then stayed still and only blew to make me beg. She buried her tongue in the hole, pulled it out, went up to the clit and sucked it in circles until I started lifting my pelvis looking for more. I grabbed her hair with one hand, wound it around my fingers, pushed her against my cunt, and bit the other hand so I wouldn’t scream. She moaned against me, and that vibration went through my insides like a current.

She put two fingers in me. Curved them, looking for that spot inside that almost nobody finds. She moved them slowly while she kept sucking my clit, and when she found it I knew I was going to explode. When the first tremor began in my thighs, she lifted her face, smiled, left the fingers still inside, and blew on my clit.

—Not yet, my love. Hold on.

—Renata, please…

—Shh.

She pulled her fingers out, put them in her mouth, and sucked them while looking into my eyes. Then she started again as if nothing had happened. She did it two more times before letting me finish. She brought me to the edge, stopped me, licked me slowly until it passed, and built me up again. I was wrecked, legs spread wide open, scratching the back of the sofa, begging her in a low voice to let me come.

—Now, yes —she said at last—. Come in my mouth, Sol.

She sucked my clit whole while sliding three fingers into me and curving them hard against that spot inside. When she finally did it, I ended up arching my back as far as my body would let me, grabbing her nape, pushing her face against my cunt, coming in her mouth with a spasm that shook me all over. I felt myself clench around her fingers, felt myself drip down the insides of my thighs and onto the sofa, felt her keep licking and swallowing everything that came down.

I was left breathless for a full minute.

—Are you okay? —she asked me, still between my legs, her mouth shining, laughing under her breath.

—I don’t know. I’m seeing things.

***

I didn’t let her rest much. I made her climb up until she was on top of me, turned her face with my hand, and kissed her tasting my own flavor in her mouth, that sour, thick mix left on her lips and chin. I sucked her as if I were eating her, cleaning her face with my tongue, and she let me, moaning softly.

Then I pushed her gently so she lay on her back on the sofa, and I pulled her thong off very slowly, looking her in the eyes the whole time. The fabric stuck to her cunt; I had to peel it away carefully, and when it finally fell to the floor I saw she was so wet it was shining even on the insides of her thighs.

—You too —she said—. I want the same. Eat me whole, Sol.

I obeyed. I kissed her thighs inward, one and then the other, barely biting the soft skin. I ran my tongue over her hipbone. I kept going up until I was breathing over her cunt and she let out a moan of pure impatience. When I finally tasted her I heard a different moan, deeper, that shook her from the waist up. She’d been wet for a long time. She tasted sweet, a little salty, with something underneath that was only her.

I gave her the minutes she had taken with me and doubled them. I opened her lips with my fingers, found her clit with the tip of my tongue, and licked it in circles until she started trembling. I went lower, shoved my tongue in as deep as I could, pulled it out full of her, went back up to the clit. I put two fingers in her and moved them slowly while I sucked her. Renata grabbed my head with both hands and pushed me against her, grinding my face against her cunt without shame.

—Like that, like that, don’t stop, Sol, eat me —she panted—, put them deeper, deeper.

I put in a third. I felt her tighten around my fingers, harder and harder. I curved my hand looking for the spot, found the swollen little bump, and rubbed it nonstop while I sucked her clit. Renata came the first time with a scream, a muffled cry against her arm. It soaked her hand and the sofa. I didn’t let her rest. I kept licking her clit with a flat tongue, softer now, and two minutes later she was shaking again. The second orgasm was longer, her whole belly contracted and she dug her heels into my back. I got the third one out of her with my fingers alone, curved inside, moving them in a steady rhythm while I pinched one nipple with my other hand. A few clear drops came out that ran all the way to her asshole and wet her whole ass. She stayed clinging to the back of the sofa, head thrown back and mouth open, unable to speak.

Then we looked at each other for a moment without saying anything, sweaty, messy-haired, the sofa soaked beneath us, laughing like two girls who’d just pulled a prank.

—One last thing —she told me.

She sat me in front of her on the sofa, opened her legs and opened mine. She hooked one of her legs over mine, and mine over hers, and settled until our cunts were pressed together, cunt to cunt, clit to clit. I felt her heat against mine and almost came just from that.

—Look at me —she said—. Look at me when I come.

She started moving slowly at first, grinding against me, and I did the same. I felt the two cunts sliding against each other, soaked, her clit bumping mine with every thrust, what came out of both of us mixing together. She sped up, closing her eyes, bracing her hands on the backrest, throwing her head back. I grabbed her hips and helped her, pushing too, each one riding against the other.

—I’m going to come again, Sol —she panted—, I’m going to come with you.

—Me too, Renata, oh God, me too…

I couldn’t hold on. I came again, with her on top of me, my whole body shaking from the inside, feeling her tighten and contract against me. Renata came at the same time, with a long moan, digging her nails into my thighs, never stopping the grind until the last tremor.

When it was all over we collapsed on the sofa, side by side, in silence, our breathing slowly settling, our cunts still throbbing. Renata kissed my shoulder and ran her open hand over one breast, not wanting anything more, just touching me.

—Happy birthday, Sol.

***

We don’t have lunch exactly the same way at the office anymore. We still talk about the new client, the unbearable boss, the project nobody wants to take on. But there’s a second every day when she lifts her eyes from her plate and I look into hers, and we both know exactly what we’re thinking about. Her tongue in my cunt. My fingers inside her. The two clits crashing into each other until we make ourselves come.

She’s the second woman I’ve been with. And every time I think about it I become more convinced of something I already knew from that afternoon at the gym: with a woman it’s different. Not better or worse, different. Slower. Deeper. More mine.

Sometimes, already in bed, I look at the ceiling and thank myself for having had the courage to tell her that in the café. If I’d kept quiet, I’d still be staring at her WhatsApp photos at nine at night, touching my cunt in silence and deleting them in shame.

And the silver bracelet, if you’re wondering, I wear it almost every day.