The Key That Awakened Desire Between My Friend and Me

It all started one Saturday morning, in Vega’s bed, with the two of us laughing our heads off and tangled up in a stupid wrestling match neither of us knew how had begun. We’d shared the flat for more than half a year, and those pillow fights were our way of shaking off Friday’s hangover. What happened that morning, however, was anything but innocent.

I was taller and quite a bit stronger than she was, so I overpowered her without effort. We were both wearing thin pajamas, and the brush of fabric against skin, the struggle, the heat of our bodies pressed together, started to ignite something I couldn’t name at first. In one move I trapped her head between my thighs, like a wrestling hold, and suddenly Vega’s face was pressed right against my crotch.

I should have let her go. Any normal person would have let her go. But I felt her warm breath filtering through the damp fabric of my panties, and I froze under a current of pleasure that ran through me from head to toe.

Let her go. Let her go now.

I didn’t. I squeezed my thighs a little tighter, waiting for her to thrash around in fury, to shove me away, to say something. Instead, all I got was a soft moan and the slow caress of her hands sliding up the backs of my legs.

I had never been attracted to another woman. I was convinced Vega wasn’t, either. And yet there we were: her nose buried against my sex, me gripping the back of her neck and guiding her face against me, not fully recognizing what I was doing. When I came fast, gasping, biting the back of my hand so I wouldn’t scream, the world had shrunk to the warmth of her breathing.

Then came the shame. I apologized profusely, red to the ears, stammering that what I’d done had been disgusting. Vega, just as flushed, told me we’d both gotten turned on by the fight, that she didn’t mind. She only asked me, very quietly, not to tell anyone.

***

I let it go. Or so I told myself. The truth was I couldn’t think about anything else for days.

One morning I went into her room to wake her and found her asleep on her side, hugging one of her T-shirts with her face buried in the fabric, breathing deeply as if the smell gave her peace. I left in silence, my heart pounding in my chest.

That image obsessed me. I started noticing how Vega lingered when I changed, the quick glances she looked away from the second I turned, how often she offered to do the laundry whenever it was my turn to leave it. Small details that, taken together, formed a confession neither of us dared to voice.

I wondered if Vega was lesbian. I would have sworn she had never been with a woman. And then I asked myself the truly uncomfortable question: what about me? Because the idea that she desired me, that something about me drove her crazy, got me hotter than any man I’d ever been with.

I had no interest in copying her or poking around in her business. But if that was what turned her on, I was willing to let myself be desired. If that made me something I had never imagined being, frankly, I didn’t care.

***

I decided to tease her. I wanted to see how far she would go.

That afternoon I got off work two hours early, claiming I had a headache. I stripped down to a pair of pink cotton panties and lay on the living-room sofa, stroking myself slowly over the fabric, waiting for her to come home. Vega was punctual as clockwork; I had timed it perfectly.

When she walked through the door, I moaned just as I arched against my own hand, letting her see me. She froze in the doorway, blushing, muttering an apology for interrupting. But she didn’t leave. That was the detail that changed everything: she didn’t leave.

I sat up unhurriedly, pulled off my soaked panties, and, with one leg propped on the sofa, used them to wipe my sex without the slightest shame, staring straight into her eyes. Vega swallowed. I caught her sneaking a look, and she turned away too late.

“I’m going to lie down for a bit,” I said, dropping the panties on the laundry basket in the bathroom as I passed. “Would you mind making dinner?”

She agreed with a speed that gave her away. She told me to sleep, that she’d wake me later.

I went into my room, but I didn’t sleep. I leaned against the door and watched through the crack. A few minutes later, Vega came out of the bathroom with my panties in her hand, taking them to her room like stolen treasure. I imagined her on the other side of the wall, breathing in my scent, and I touched myself again, slowly, until I fell asleep with a smile.

***

At dinner, wearing a sheer nightdress that left nothing to the imagination, Vega casually mentioned that she had washed my underwear. I thanked her, pretending not to notice the blush rising up her neck every time I lowered my eyes to her cleavage.

The following days became a silent game of cat and mouse. I left clues; she picked them up without admitting anything. We both knew what was happening. We both waited for the other to break the fragile pact of silence.

Saturday arrived, and ahead of us we had four days off. It was time.

***

Vega was the first to wake and brought me a cup of tea in bed. I had slept naked. When she sat beside me to chat, I kicked the sheet away as if by accident and opened my legs just enough to feel her eyes drop and stay fixed there a second too long between my thighs.

“Are you going out today?” she asked, her voice a little hoarse.

“No. I feel lazy,” I replied, opening and closing my legs with deliberate slowness. “And horny.”

The air between us turned thick. I held her gaze.

“What if we fight again?” I said. “Like that day. But this time we’re both naked.”

My pulse jumped when Vega looked down between my legs again and whispered yes.

She took off her short nightdress and knelt naked in front of me on the bed. We hugged, laughing, trembling, pretending it was a game while our breasts brushed and our laughter tangled with our breathing. I handled her with ease, just like the first time, but I could feel she was barely resisting. She was letting herself lose.

I trapped her head between my thighs, this time with her face near my hip, and Vega drew in a sharp breath. She couldn’t help it: she started stroking my clenched thighs with both hands, slowly, as if praying.

I slid my hand between her legs and sank a finger into her soaked sex. Vega gasped.

“You’re almost as wet as I am,” I said, laughing softly. “Look at you.”

She arched against my fingers, opening more, wanting more. I rubbed her clit for a long time until I had her moaning and begging without words. Then I let her go.

I sat astride her, pinning her wrists to the mattress above her head, looking into her eyes.

“I didn’t tell anyone what happened last Saturday,” I said. “And I’ll never tell anyone how much you love my scent. I know, Vega. I know about my panties.”

She turned crimson.

“I... I’m so embarrassed,” she stammered.

“It doesn’t disgust me,” I replied, bringing my mouth to her ear. “It turns me on. Knowing something about me drives you crazy turns me on more than anything in the world. I’m not a lesbian. Neither are you. But I want to be filthy with you. Do you?”

“I can’t help feeling this way,” she whispered, her eyes shining. “With you, I can’t.”

“Then I’ll be your desire if you’ll be mine,” I said.

***

I slowly climbed up over her body, trapping her arms with my knees, until my sex was a hand’s breadth from her mouth.

“Are you going to let me taste you?” she stammered, looking up at me, open and wet beneath me.

“You’re going to get a lot more than just a little of me before this morning is over,” I answered, parting my lips with my fingers.

Without me asking, Vega lifted her head and stuck out her tongue. She moaned as soon as my scent enveloped her and my slightly salty taste coated her tongue. She licked slowly, hungrily, as if she’d been waiting months for that moment.

“Do you like it?” I gasped, pulling back for a second to see her face.

“Yes,” she said, breathless. “God, yes.”

I let her devour me until I was on the edge, and then I turned over on top of her, giving her my back and offering her my ass instead of my sex. Vega pulled her face away and breathed deeply against the hot curve of my arse, intoxicated by my most intimate scent. When her tongue found the forbidden place, the two of us moaned at once.

“I didn’t know I could like this so much,” I whispered, trembling, while she worshipped me with a devotion that left me breathless.

“And I’ve gone crazy for you,” she answered between licks, grabbing my hips to pull me closer.

I sat up and sank down over her mouth again, this time facing her, without any patience left. Vega gripped my thighs and buried her tongue in me while I rocked over her, setting the pace, chasing the end.

“I’m going to come in your mouth,” I warned her, my voice breaking.

Vega only had time to moan and part her lips wide against me before pleasure split me in two. I collapsed on top of her body, both of us panting, both of us laughing again, but in a completely different way.

Neither of us was lesbian. We kept repeating that. But that morning, and every morning after that long weekend, the word stopped mattering. The only thing that mattered was the unusual taste we had discovered for one another, and that we no longer intended to let go.