The Girl from the App Taught Me Something I Didn’t Expect

Today almost any young girl has a dating app downloaded. That was my case with one in particular, and I still use it to this day. It was the one that made me change the way I understood desire and, above all, the way I understood myself.

I was twenty-one and spent too much time in the college library. While my classmates talked about casual hookups, guys they’d met at bars, and weekend stories, I nodded as if I knew what they meant, but inside I didn’t understand a thing. I was the nerd of the group, the one who arrived early and left last. Several guys from my program dropped hints at me, but I dodged them with sarcastic one-liners my friends loved. They’d already been through no-strings adventures, parties that ended in strangers’ rooms, and plans made only to get off. I’d never opened myself up to anyone. Until one of them, Camila, decided to teach me how to use the app.

Camila studied photography, and when I got to her apartment she already had a little improvised set up in her room: a white wall, a lamp with a shade, and a collection of blouses and dresses hanging over the back of a chair. I’d seen her put together more serious shoots for school, but this time she seemed to be enjoying herself more than she should have.

—We’re going to make you a real profile —she said as soon as I walked in—. Fake name. Your age stays real, because the apps compare.

—And what’s the point of a profile if I’m lying afterward? —I asked.

—You’re not lying. You’re choosing which part of yourself you show. It’s different.

I sat on the edge of her bed while she looked at me with the trained eye of someone who measures light out of habit. It felt like she was evaluating angles and shadows, not me.

—On these apps almost nobody’s looking for anything serious —she explained—. It’s hooking up or cybersex, don’t kid yourself. If you’re not offended by it, you can have a lot of fun.

—Are you sure anyone’s going to like me? I don’t have photos like yours. Mine are from class or the hockey field.

—Trust me. Here they’re going to see you differently. Did you bring what I asked for?

I’d brought a couple of sheer blouses, a short dress, and the nice underwear I almost never wore. She glanced through it, made a face, and opened one of her own drawers.

—Girl, your underwear looks like your grandma’s. I’ll lend you mine, I washed it this morning.

There was never any modesty between us. I took off my sports clothes with the ease of someone changing in a shared locker room and tried on a black lace set, very thin at the sides, that felt more like a suggestion than clothing. Camila helped me with the clasp, adjusted a sheer white blouse that opened over my chest, and asked me to kneel on the bed.

—Chin up. Look at the lamp, not at me. Perfect.

She took dozens of photos. From behind, on my knees, standing in a nearly transparent dress and thin stockings she herself adjusted on me. Some made me laugh. Others left me silent, looking at myself on the camera screen as if I were someone else. My waist was defined, my hips wider than I’d thought, and my back was something I’d never paid attention to. The girl in the pictures was not the nerd from the faculty. She was someone I didn’t know and, in that moment, found intriguing.

—Done —Camila said after an hour—. I’ll upload the best ones, write your bio, and show you how to use the app. Shall we open it together?

—I’m already regretting this.

—Too late. You already have three matches.

None of them convinced me. I left her place with my phone in my backpack, not wanting to look at it, and showered as soon as I got to my apartment. I came out of the shower with a towel wrapped around my chest and flopped onto the bed. The phone kept vibrating nonstop. Thirty minutes had passed and I already had dozens of messages. Most were from men less than two kilometers away, direct messages, explicit offers, pictures I hadn’t asked for. Erect cocks, close-ups of thick cocks braced against a ruler, short videos of guys jerking off in the office bathroom, fingers spreading assholes and asking me to send something like that.

And women too. Quite a few. With a naivety that now makes me smile, I thought a new friend wouldn’t be a bad thing. One of them wrote first.

—Hi, you’re gorgeous. How old are you?

—Hi Lucía, thanks. Twenty-one. And you?

—Twenty-six. You’re beautiful. I’m bisexual. You live very close to me, strange that I’ve never run into you.

—Aww. I’m straight, but you’re really cute. I love your skin and your tattoos.

—No way you can be that pretty and straight. I’d go to your place to see if you still are after I eat your pussy for an hour. That way I can show you the tattoos up close.

—Haha, yes, I am. But you look very attractive, huh. Come to my apartment to check. Just kidding.

—I’m coming. Send me the address. Better if I call you first by video, so we can see each other?

I agreed thinking of conversation, laughter, meeting someone new. I arranged the towel over my chest and propped the phone against a pillow. When I answered, she was already in her room, wearing a black blouse with a deep neckline and her hair gathered into a makeshift bun. The light from her lamp lit one side of her neck.

—You look even prettier in person than in the photos —she said—. I love that you don’t use filters.

—You too. Nice neckline.

—Lower the camera a little. I want to see you better.

I lowered the phone almost without thinking. The towel shifted and exposed the inner part of my thighs.

—Oh, sorry, it slipped.

—Mmm. What a delicious mistake. Take off the towel, I’ll show you something.

I shouldn’t be doing this, I thought, while doing it anyway. I dropped the towel completely and ended up naked in front of the camera, seated with my legs barely closed. I watched Lucía bite her lip on the other side.

—Open your legs a little. Slowly. I want to see your pussy.

I obeyed without thinking, my cheeks burning. I spread my knees and stayed still, exposed to a stranger breathing hard on the other side of the screen.

—It’s beautiful. Pink, tight. Touch yourself for me. Two fingers, there, on the clit. Move them in a circle, slowly, like I’m licking you.

I dropped my hand and started stroking myself the way she asked. I’d never masturbated in front of anyone. The first sweep of my fingers pulled a moan from me so clear it made me embarrassed. She gave a soft laugh and moved the camera.

—Me too.

The screen suddenly showed her hand between her legs, two fingers sunk to the knuckles in her soaked cunt, going in and out with a wet sound that came through the microphone. I’d never seen another woman doing that to herself.

—Put a finger in, my love. Feel how wet you are. Tell me how you feel.

—Soaked —I whispered, and didn’t recognize my own voice.

—I’m going to finish in a bit. Don’t come now. We’re saving that orgasm for when I have your mouth pressed to my pussy.

I pulled my hand away as if I’d been burned.

***

What happened in the minutes that followed surprised me more for how fast it happened than for what happened. I let go of the towel and dropped it onto the bed. She moved the camera downward and appeared naked from the waist down, seated on the edge of her chair, her cunt spread wide open toward the lens with a clear thread hanging between her thighs. There was nothing performative about the image, only a calm that undid me.

—I was like this from the beginning —she said, laughing—. I meant for you to see me. Do you like what you see?

I didn’t know what to answer. What I felt wasn’t repulsion. It was curiosity mixed with something that looked a lot like desire, and which I had never felt for a woman before.

—Do you want me to come over? —she asked—. I’ll do whatever you want and make you feel good. No strings. I’m going to eat your pussy until you forget your own name.

—Where do you live?

—In the building across the street. I swear.

—Come.

When the doorbell rang, I still couldn’t quite believe I’d agreed. I opened the door with the towel on again, fingers cold, pulse pounding at my temples. Lucía smiled at me from the hallway in a floral dress and her hair loose over her shoulders. She smelled like citrus perfume and something warm underneath.

—Welcome —I said, trying not to let my voice shake.

—This is so nice. Do you live alone?

—Yes.

—Even better.

She shut the door behind her and came forward without asking permission. I leaned against the hallway wall and let her get close. She didn’t kiss me at first. She looked at me for a second, as if measuring whether I was going to back out. Then she put her hand on my cheek, swept a strand of hair aside, and lowered her mouth to my neck.

—If at any point you want me to stop, you tell me and I’ll stop. Okay?

I nodded. It was the first time anyone had asked me something like that before touching me.

Her mouth was unlike anything I knew. Soft, patient, without the urgency I’d imagined in the guys from school. She sucked on my neck and left a reddish mark right under my ear. She moved down my collarbone, stripped the towel off with one motion, and grabbed my tits with both hands, squeezing until I gasped. She took one nipple into her mouth, bit it slowly, left it hard, and moved to the other. I felt the tugs from the tip of my nipple all the way to my clit, like something was pulling at me from inside.

—Your tits are gorgeous, little one. And your nipples are already screaming.

She licked my sternum, went down my stomach, knelt in front of me, and pried my legs open with her thumbs. I was naked against the wall and she, never taking her eyes off mine, brought her face to my cunt and inhaled deeply, smelling me as if that alone gave her pleasure.

—I want to taste you —she said, and didn’t wait for an answer.

She stuck out her tongue and gave me one long, broad lick, from the entrance of my pussy up to my clit. I closed my eyes. The sensation caught me off guard, not because of its intensity but because of its precision: she knew exactly where to run her tongue and how long to linger on each spot. She sucked my clit with soft lips, released it, tapped it with the tip of her tongue, and every so often shoved her whole tongue into my cunt and moved it in circles, fucking me slowly with her mouth. My legs started shaking within minutes. I braced my hands on her shoulders so I wouldn’t fall. I heard her laugh, a low, satisfied laugh, without taking her mouth away. I felt one of her fingers working its way in, slick with my own wetness, sliding all the way in and curving against the front wall.

—Come on, to the bed.

I walked without thinking, my legs weak and my pussy throbbing. I let myself fall backward while she unbuttoned her dress and let it drop onto the chair. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath. She had small, firm tits, dark nipples, and a tattoo on her hip that I hadn’t seen on the video call, an olive branch climbing up to her ribs. I stroked the leaves with one finger, almost by instinct, while she climbed onto the bed and straddled my face without warning.

—Had you ever been with a woman before?

—No.

—Even better. Stick out your tongue and do what I did to you. Don’t think. Copy me.

She lowered her hips and pressed her wet pussy to my mouth. I tasted salty, a little acidic, and felt wetness running down my cheeks. I stuck out my tongue and started licking awkwardly, searching for the clit by feel. She guided me by pulling gently on my hair, moving her hips forward and back, fucking my face calmly.

—There, there. Faster. Suck it with your lips. Put it in your mouth. Good girl.

When I felt her trembling over me, I wrapped my arms around her thighs and didn’t let go. She came with a rough cry and flooded my mouth with a warm flow I swallowed without thinking. She got off my face laughing, skin flushed, and kissed me on the mouth, making me taste my own scent mixed with hers.

—Now it’s your turn, little one.

She went back down my body, this time without rushing. She kissed my navel, my hips, the inside of my thighs. I held onto the sheets because I didn’t know what to do with my hands. When she returned to my cunt, I was already ready to come, and she knew it. She spread my pussy with her thumbs, exposing my clit, and started sucking it directly, no detours, while slipping two fingers into me and curling them inside, searching for the exact spot. She lifted her head for a second.

—Don’t hold back. Tell me when you’re coming. I want to feel you squeezing my fingers.

—Now. Now. Now.

I came with a sound I didn’t recognize. Something between a laugh and a sigh, my thighs closing around her face, my hands gripping her hair, my cunt pulsing hard around her fingers and hot wetness spilling onto her wrist. She didn’t move until my body went completely slack. Then she climbed up to kiss me and let me taste myself in her mouth, without warning.

—Well —she said, resting her forehead against mine—. This is only the beginning.

And it was. She made me turn over, left me facedown with my hips raised and my knees apart, and traced my back with her lips, millimeter by millimeter, until she reached my ass. There she lingered. She spread my cheeks with both hands and ran her tongue along the entire crease, from anus to pussy, over and over, unhurried, until I was dripping again. She put her tongue in my asshole while rubbing my clit with two fingers, and ripped a moan out of me that surprised even me. She slid three fingers into my pussy from behind and started fucking me hard, the palm of her hand slapping my ass with each thrust, and within minutes I was screaming into the pillow, coming for the second time that night, clenching her fingers with my cunt and soaking her whole hand.

—You’ve still got another one in there, little one. I can feel it.

She turned me over again, spread my legs, and lay down on her side, slotting herself between my thighs until her pussy pressed against mine. She started moving, clit against clit, a slow, sticky scissors motion, both wet pussies crushing together and separating with a wet sound that filled the room. I grabbed one of her tits and pinched her nipple; she closed her eyes and sped up. That night I came three more times, twice from her mouth and once from two of her fingers, and I’m still surprised by how naturally my body decided it had known how to do all this all along.

***

Lucía came almost every day during the three months that followed. Sometimes after class, sometimes at dawn, sometimes just to drink coffee and stay late watching series. During that time I started using the app with men too, and discovered that my head adjusted itself without effort: desire was desire, and the person on the other side mattered less than the connection in that moment. Some nights Lucía arrived after a guy had already left and found me with his cum still slipping inside me; she found it amusing, crouched down, and sucked it straight out of my pussy without complaint, swallowing it as if it were a gift. Other times it was the opposite, and it was the guy of the night who crossed paths with her coming out of the elevator. We never talked about exclusivity. There was no need.

After that summer we became friends, and something changed, without a fight, without a scene. She met someone, moved to the other side of the city, and had a baby two years ago. We still talk often. Every now and then she writes to ask if I want to see her, and I tell her it’s better not to, because I like her partner and I don’t want to get involved in that. Though the last time she proposed a threesome with him, promising she’d have her husband’s cock inside my pussy and her tongue on my clit at the same time, and I still haven’t answered.

The other thing that first night left me with was more practical. I learned to have encounters without guilt, to bring people to my apartment when I feel like it, to delete the app when I’m tired of it and download it again when I’m bored. My record was five different people in a month, including two threesomes. Probably the word that fits me is nymphomaniac, but it makes me laugh. I prefer to think I simply understood something in time, and that I owe it to a girl who wrote me one afternoon while I was in a towel, bored and still convinced I knew who I was.