The Afternoon Renata Taught Me What Coming Was

My name is Camila. I’m thirty-two, fair-skinned, with almost-black hair that falls to my shoulders. I’m naturally slim, and a little more so because of the gym. My breasts are small but firm, with pink nipples that harden at the slightest draft. I’m telling you all this because it’s necessary to understand the rest.

The rest is Renata. My second girlfriend, the one with whom I learned almost everything I know about fucking and, above all, about myself.

Renata is five years older than me, shorter, and quite a bit more filled out. She has big tits that end up resting against the back of my neck when we sleep curled around each other, and an ass that’s the first thing I look at when she gets out of bed. Every time she bends down to get something from the bottom drawer of the closet, I get an absurd urge to bite her. Sometimes I do. She’d already been out when I met her, for years. I was still finding my place.

Before Renata, I had dated men. Some of them I liked, none of them made me come. I ended up believing the problem was my body, that something inside me was defective, that orgasm was a story magazines invented to sell pills. Renata showed me, with patience and method, that the problem wasn’t me. The problem was having looked in the wrong place for a decade.

With her, I also discovered things that had never crossed my mind. One of them was anal sex, which now seems as inevitable to me as breathing. But I’ll get to that in a minute.

At first we fucked every time we saw each other. Every time. If I stopped by her place to pick up a book, I ended up face-down on her couch. If we came back from the movies, we didn’t even make it to the bed: she’d shove me against the dining table. And from the first month on, we started collecting toys. She already had two or three when I moved in with her on weekends; in less than a year we had an entire drawer devoted to them.

There was everything. A tiny pink vibrator, barely bigger than my finger, which we used to start slowly. A black dildo that Renata wore with a harness when she was in the mood to take charge. And a long forty-five-centimeter double-ended one that slept at the bottom of the drawer because we only took it out when we had the whole afternoon free and the neighbors weren’t around.

Our favorites were the strapless ones. Vibrators shaped like a double fin that don’t need a harness: one of us puts the short end inside and penetrates the other with the long one. We had three. The one we loved most was a shiny purple one, with a vibration that sounded like a tiny motor. We called it “the coward” because the battery always died after fifteen minutes, right when one of us was about to come. It held a charge for one session and a half, and since we always forgot to plug it in, it almost always left us halfway there, staring at it with a look that was equal parts hatred and laughter.

Of all the times we were together, there’s one that comes back whenever I close my eyes. Nothing spectacular happened around it: it was a Saturday afternoon, it was raining, we’d eaten pasta and then flopped onto the bed to watch a series neither of us was paying attention to.

It started the way these things start. Her hand on my thigh over my pants. My mouth finding her neck. And a while later we were both naked, her on top of me, kissing my sternum, slowly working her way down until she put her tongue in my navel. Renata had a habit of talking to me while she did it. Not set phrases, just loose words, in a very low voice, almost in my ear, almost to herself.

—Stay still —she told me when I tried to rush her.

She took her time. She kissed my groin first, then the insides of my thighs, then paused to breathe against my clit without touching it, until I yanked her hair. Only then did she stick out her tongue and start tracing me from side to side, first slowly, then in circles, then alternating. I was soaked in less than a minute.

She slid in one finger. Then a second. She searched inside for what she knew how to find and, without taking her mouth off my clit, pressed. I felt the familiar cramp rise up my spine.

—Want something more? —she asked, lifting her face just a little.

I nodded without speaking. She got up from the bed, opened the drawer, took out a flesh-colored vibrator and the black harness we saved for long afternoons. She held it up as if showing it to me in a shop window.

—Is this okay?

I got onto all fours on the mattress, looking at her. No other answer was needed.

Renata knew my body better than I did. She knew exactly how hard to squeeze my nipples to make my knees go weak. She knew that if she dragged her knuckles down my back, from my shoulders to my waist, I’d arch without being asked. She’d do that: a hard stroke on my clit followed by a soft brush over my nipples. That contrast drove me crazy.

She asked me to sit on her face. I rode her like that for a while, her hands on my waist and her tongue doing what it already knew how to do. When I was on the edge, she grabbed my hips and pulled me back, until I was settled over the toy. I lowered myself a little and felt it go in, slippery as I was.

—Ride it —she told me.

I rode it. Slowly at first, then faster, looking her in the eyes while she watched my small tits bounce. A few minutes later she grabbed me again, turned me over, put me on all fours on the bed, and settled behind me. She started gently. Then increased the speed. Then the force. When she was already driving into me with all the weight of her body, she leaned over me and asked something in my ear she had never asked before.

—Can I put a finger in your ass?

I didn’t know what to answer. I told her yes because it was her, because I trusted her, because at that moment I would have said yes to almost anything. I didn’t know that question was about to open a door that would never close again.

Renata sucked her thumb, wet it with the lubricant on the nightstand, and, without slowing the toy’s rhythm, started making circles there, pressing just a little. The first knuckle went in. Then a bit more. I didn’t know whether to moan, to cry, to ask her to go away and stay at the same time. It was a new sensation, full, contradictory. And it was huge.

I came like never before. The walls closed around the toy with such force that I almost ripped it out. I bit my hand to keep from screaming and having the neighbors call the police. When I caught my breath, Renata still had her finger inside, perfectly still, waiting for the trembling to pass.

—I told you —she murmured—. I told you you’d like it.

***

After that afternoon, we couldn’t stop thinking about what would come next. Renata, who had more miles on this than I did, started throwing ideas at me. One of the first was double penetration. I had never thought about that. When she said it out loud, it sounded impossible and exciting in equal measure.

We discussed how to do it. The obvious thing was to find a guy. And most importantly: between us we made one rule crystal clear. My ass was her exclusive property. The guy who came could put his dick wherever we usually did, could watch, could take part in a thousand things. Nobody was going in back there except Renata.

The attempt came a few weeks later. A nice guy showed up, patient, not too eager, who did his part without messing anything up. But the choreography didn’t work the way we wanted. Between my nerves, his different rhythm, and the positions that just didn’t line up, we didn’t make it to the double. We left it for another day. He left happy, and we stayed in bed laughing like two girls who had planned a prank and ruined it by laughing too much.

Renata got up, opened the drawer, and came back with a serious face.

—I’ll handle it —she said.

She handed me a small vibrator, one that just barely fit. She had me lie on my back, legs spread, and told me to start on my own. I slipped it in and started moving it, looking at her. She coated her fingers with lubricant and sat on the edge of the bed, between my legs. First she made circles outside. Then one finger. Then two. No hurry, no pressure, waiting for me to loosen up.

—Turn over —she said.

I got on all fours again. While I was settling myself, I heard her open the drawer and take out another toy. When I turned my head to look at her, she already had the harness on with one of the doubles: the short end inside her, the long one pointing at me.

—Don’t take the other one out —she said, referring to the small vibrator I had inside me—. Keep moving it yourself.

She went in slowly. The first thing I felt was impossibility. That it wouldn’t fit, that it was too much, that something was going to break. Then I felt that it did. That it was going in. That my body was adjusting, making room, accepting. When it was truly inside, she stayed still for a few seconds, waiting for me to breathe.

I started the movement of the small vibrator myself, in and out, slowly. Renata started moving behind me. Both hands on my hips, holding me tight, setting the rhythm. She sped up. I sped up. My pussy was gushing like never before, I could hear the sound of the lubricant with each thrust.

I don’t know how long we stayed like that. Ten minutes, thirty, an hour. All you could hear were our breaths and the wet sound of the two toys going in and out. I couldn’t speak. Neither could Renata.

The orgasm, when it came, was long. Longer than anything I had ever felt before. The walls clenched around both toys so hard they expelled them, one after the other, as if my body were spitting them out to make room for something bigger that still had no name.

I stayed face-down, trembling. And then I heard Renata. She was coming too, behind me, without me touching her, just from watching me. She came twice in a row in less than a minute, gripping the harness, burying her face in my back.

—That never happened to me before —she told me afterward, still with a broken voice—. Just from watching you.

We stayed wrapped around each other, sweaty, not wanting to move to turn off the light. The idea of doing a threesome properly came back into the conversation, but calmer, without urgency. That night we only imagined it. A few months later we made it happen, and it turned out the way we wanted. But that’s another story, and I’ll tell it if you ask me for it.