What Happened in the Dressing Room with My Best Friend

After what happened in my apartment the other afternoon, we couldn’t stop teasing each other. Everywhere: in the coffee shop line, at a bar table, in messages at three in the morning when we were supposed to be asleep. I loved that game. I hadn’t stopped fucking my boyfriend, I love him and that’s a different thing, but I’d also become addicted to Camila. Sometimes I fantasized about putting the two of them in the same bed, though my chest would immediately climb into my throat. I’m a selfish girl and I want him all to myself. What I would give to do is suck him off while she eats me out. Period. Nothing else.

One Saturday we went out to browse stores. We went into a big three-story place, the one on the main avenue with the mirrored facade. It was five in the afternoon and there were hardly any people around. Soft music, perfumes on sale, two saleswomen chatting on their phones behind the counter.

—Look at this dress, what do you think? —Camila held it up against her body, pressing it to her hips to judge the fit.

—I think it would look nice on you.

—You don’t like it?

—You know it’s not my thing. Besides, my tits aren’t going to fit in there —I let the comment out without any malice, but the look she gave me made me want to correct myself.

—Then why don’t you try on some jeans? Those you like, queen.

—You know what? You’re right.

I grabbed three pairs of jeans, two T-shirts and a blouse, more for safety than because I actually wanted them. Camila built her own pile: that dress, a pair of shorts, two blouses, a lace-backed bodysuit. We showed the clothes to the clerk, a young girl with bangs and thick eyeliner, and she let us into the fitting rooms at the back. They were small fitting rooms, with a curtain on the outside and a white wooden door on the inside. Full-length mirror. Warm light. Perfect, in other words.

Camila went into one and I into the one next to it. I waited a minute. I heard hangers creak, the zipper of a pair of shorts, her breath hitching when something wouldn’t go on. I pulled out my phone and texted her on WhatsApp: “Want to play?” I saw the two checkmarks turn blue immediately. The answer came five seconds later: “Come.” I smiled. I peeked through the crack in the door. The saleswoman was still outside, far enough away, busy with another customer asking about sizes. I stepped out of my fitting room in two seconds, shut the door quickly, opened hers and slipped in.

—Hi, love —I whispered.

I grabbed her face and kissed her. I bit her lower lip and heard a tiny gasp, almost a whimper. I pushed her against the fitting room wall, her back pressed to the mirror.

—You’re going to need to stay very quiet —I told her in her ear—. If they hear us, they’ll throw us out. Or worse.

She was in underwear and an open shirt. I squeezed her tits over the fabric of her bra, pinched one nipple through the lace, and felt it harden in a second. I slid my hand down her stomach, shoved my fingers under the elastic of her panties. She was soaked. I made soft circles over her clit, slow, with the pad of my middle finger. I bit her neck and gave her three long licks. Camila clenched her fists against my shoulders to keep from moaning.

—Now I’m the one who needs to taste you —she said softly, panting against my ear.

I was in panties and a bra. I took off my bra and hung it from the hanger like it was a piece of clothes I was trying on. Camila knelt in front of me on the fitting room carpet. She pulled my panties down to my ankles, slowly, and brought her face to my sex. She closed her eyes. She inhaled deeply. I read a “you smell so fucking good, love” on her lips. Then she pressed her mouth to my lips down below and gave me soft, closed kisses, as if they were kisses on the mouth.

The temperature contrast was brutal. The fitting room was icy from the air conditioning and her mouth came warm, almost hot, in little touches. I gripped the doorframe to keep from losing my balance. Camila opened my lips with two fingers and stuck out her tongue, flat, soft. She started licking slowly, from bottom to top, always ending at the little button with a short suck. Lick, suck. Lick, suck.

I grabbed her hair with one hand and twisted it around my fist.

—Stick out your tongue —I whispered—. And leave it there.

So obedient. She stuck it out. She kept it still, flat, ready for me. I started grinding against her, moving my hips forward and back, using her however I pleased. Camila was smiling without closing her mouth, eyes lifted, looking at me. I fondled my tits with my other hand, pinched one nipple until it hurt. Her face was soaked with my juices and she swallowed them happily.

I lifted my gaze toward the ceiling, focusing on the sensation. Right then Camila shoved two fingers into me in one shot, all the way to the bottom. I bit my hand to keep from yelling. I hadn’t expected it. I stopped moving and she took the opportunity to press her mouth to my clit and start sucking hard, while her two fingers went in and out fast, curling forward. Fuck, I’m going to come, I thought.

I looked toward the mirror and saw her: she had her free hand inside her own panties, she’d pulled them to one side and was touching herself with two fingers at the same rhythm she was finger-fucking me. I could hear that little sloshing sound from her wet sex, and the thought that someone could knock on the door at any moment made me finish. I came hard in her mouth, biting into my palm. She didn’t stop. She kept sucking me. A few seconds later I came again, shorter, more electric. She pulled back for an instant and ran the hand that was wet with her own slick over my clit. I let go of her hair and squeezed my two nipples hard, until the pain shot through me like a lash. A third orgasm came, strange, almost dry, and it made tears spring to my eyes from pleasure.

***

Camila stopped. She gave me a tiny kiss right on the clit, like a finishing touch, and straightened up. I whispered that now it was my turn. We didn’t have much time and I needed to make her come before the saleswoman started wondering why we were taking so long.

I turned her with her back to me and pressed her against the mirror. I made her bend a little, spread her feet, stick her ass back. I stood behind her, slid my arms under her shoulders and grabbed her tits with both hands. I bit the back of her neck. She parted her lips and let out a breath before biting her lower lip.

—Stick out your tongue, mommy —I told her in her ear, staring at her hard in the reflection—. And you are forbidden to stop looking at me through the mirror. If you do, I stop.

Without breaking eye contact for a single second, I brushed my tongue against hers, slowly. It was a strange kiss, without lips, just tongue tips, and I swear I felt it on my little cunt just as strongly as when she’d given me oral a minute earlier. She felt it too: I saw her stomach tighten.

—Look how slutty you look —I whispered—. Naked in a fitting room, having sex with your best friend. What if someone opens the door now?

Camila shut her eyes for a second and opened them again, holding herself back. I ran my right hand along the side of her body and touched her clit through the fabric of her panties. I gave her three soft taps that I cut off right away because of the noise. I switched to side-to-side motions, then slow circles, the ones I already knew were her favorites. In the reflection, her wetness could be seen dripping down the inner side of her thigh. I got an enormous urge to taste her.

I crouched behind her. I licked her thighs, cleaning off the trail, slowly, gathering every drop. I love swallowing her juices, I love how sweet she tastes. I pulled her panties to one side and opened her lips with my thumbs. She was all pink inside, shiny, tempting. I moistened my thumb with her own slick and made soft circles over her anus, without stopping licking her. I felt the shiver that ran through her. Camila had never let me touch her there before. That afternoon, though, she spread her legs a little more and leaned forward.

I wanted more. I took one of her hands and placed it on her left ass cheek. I took the right one. I opened her up. I replaced my thumb with my tongue and gave her a long, wet kiss on the asshole, while with my other hand I kept stimulating her clit. Camila rested her forehead against the mirror and tried not to make a sound. What escaped her was a deep, tight moan that I would have loved to hear at full volume. She came in gushes. I felt the contraction on my tongue, in my fingers, in my whole body. I had to hold her by the hip so she wouldn’t fall.

I stopped. If I kept going, we wouldn’t get out of that fitting room alive.

I straightened up, my face soaked just like hers. I looked at her in the mirror: she was smiling with tired eyes, bangs stuck to her forehead, cheeks red. I gave her a kiss on the cheek, soft, almost sisterly.

—Clean yourself up, we’re leaving —I told her in her ear without taking my eyes off her reflection.

We took out the wet wipes we both always carry in our bags. We cleaned ourselves as best we could: face, thighs, hands. We dressed in silence, smiling with our eyes. I peeked through the crack. The saleswoman was at the fitting room door, chatting with another customer about a pink dress. I came out quickly, went into my fitting room, finished dressing, gathered my things. I grabbed the clothes I’d supposedly come to try on.

I opened the door and peeked out again. The saleswoman was in the aisle. She looked up when she heard me come out. I held her gaze for a second. She gave me a tiny, curious, almost conspiratorial smile, as if to say, “I know what happened in there and I don’t care.” I felt heat in my ears. I walked out with the clothes hanging from my forearm. Camila came out behind me, running her fingers through her hair.

—I’m not taking any of this —I said, leaving everything on the returns rack.

—I’m only taking this dress —Camila replied, separating out the garment she’d tried on first.

—All right. Come back soon —said the saleswoman, with the same smile. So cute, so cool, I thought.

We paid at the register in the back. On the way we added two mini perfumes, a lip gloss and a pair of fishnet stockings neither of us needed. We went out onto the street. The afternoon sun hit our faces and we looked at each other. Camila laughed. I laughed. We said goodbye with a kiss on the mouth, quick, right there on the sidewalk, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

What a delicious outing.

See you.