My Son’s Friend Followed Me to the Car

The monotonous hum of the engine surrounded me, mingling with the low music from the radio. Gonzalo drove in a relaxed, distracted manner, his left hand on the wheel and his right resting on my thigh. The road was a dark, empty line, and I pretended to watch it.

My dress had ridden up a little and, almost without thinking, I parted my knees. I felt his fingers move slowly forward, brushing the inner sides of my thighs. A shiver ran through me, so strong that I had to hold my breath.

—I see you’re feeling playful tonight —he murmured, convinced he had me in the palm of his hand.

I didn’t answer. I pressed my lips together and let his hand move a little higher. But he wasn’t the one on my mind. What truly aroused me wasn’t his fingers, but the memory of another mouth devouring mine only a short while earlier: a wet tongue, the taste of gin, the shameless pressure of a kiss that should never have happened. And also the memory of a young, rock-hard cock coming all over my bare tits in the parking lot.

Gonzalo, focused on the wheel and on some unimportant comment, suspected nothing. I nodded, even laughed when appropriate, but I didn’t hear a word. My mind was somewhere else, in another hour, in the parking lot of that reception hall.

***

Elena has been my best friend for as long as I can remember. We grew up on the same street, went to school together, and shared games, confidences, and secrets. Life took us down different paths, but we never stopped being close. I think of her as a sister, as the family I chose for myself.

When she told me that Daniela, her eldest daughter, was getting married, I was happy as if she were my own daughter. I accompanied her to dress fittings, through nervous phone calls, and during the last-minute preparations. I was there for her, as always, in good times and bad. Seeing her that day, smiling among the guests, filled me with a strange, warm pride.

Her son Adrián is an intimate friend of Lucas, my only son. They are the same age, twenty-one, and grew up almost like brothers. I still remember the warm weight of that little boy when I carried him for the first time, his smashed birthday cake amid the laughter, the Christmases when he ran impatiently around my house waiting to open his presents. He was always Elena’s pride and weakness, her favorite.

And yet that night he was no longer a child.

From the beginning of the ceremony, I noticed his eyes on me. It wasn’t new. He had done it before, with that shameless insistence I preferred to pretend I didn’t notice. I took it as an innocent game: when he came to the house and I caught him looking at my legs or cleavage, I would smile to myself, secretly flattered, never encouraging anything.

I was dancing alone. Gonzalo hates dancing; he prefers his drink and long conversations. Then Adrián approached, his jacket open and his tie loose.

—Will you dance with me? —he asked, with a shy smile that betrayed his nerves.

I saw nothing improper in accepting. I had treated him like a son all his life and, besides, I hate dancing alone. I held out my hand. As soon as I had him close, I felt the firmness of his body pressed against mine. He was slim, but his torso concealed the restrained strength of his years.

—You’re not bad at all —I said with a laugh, adjusting to his rhythm more than I should have—. I thought boys your age only danced reggaeton.

For the wedding I had put on a short black dress, tight around the hips. One turn was enough for me to feel his hand descend a little farther than it should, far too close, its intention far too clear. I did nothing.

I should have stopped him then, I tell myself now, my heart and guilt pounding against my chest.

—You look beautiful today —he whispered, his breath brushing the skin of my neck—. Even more beautiful than usual.

—Thank you… —I replied, trying to sound light—. But I’m sure you’d rather ask some young girl to dance —I added, pointing to a couple of girls who passed beside us.

He held me tighter.

—They don’t even come up to your shoes —he assured me with a firmness that amused me—. Besides, I’ve always been more attracted to mature women… like you. With experience and a real body.

His boldness left me speechless. I had never imagined he would dare so much. For a moment I thought about pulling away, about ending the dance. But the music, the guests’ laughter, the electricity in the hall, and that young body pressed against mine swept me along.

—Really? —I murmured, taking refuge in a joke—. Are you comparing me to ripe fruit?

Adrián smiled, and his voice grew lower, more intimate.

—To me, you’re the most beautiful woman at the entire wedding. You’ve always been my fantasy. You can’t imagine how many times I’ve jerked off thinking about you, your ass, those tits…

He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to: at that moment I felt the firm brush of his erection against my pelvis. A hard, tense, swollen cock inside his trousers, crushing against my stomach with every beat. I froze, as if the entire hall had suddenly turned toward us. My husband was still at the bar, raising his glass, oblivious to everything. Elena, radiant, was chatting with some guests. And I, trapped between the music and Adrián’s heat, feeling that young cock pressed against my bone, felt unworthy… and desired as I hadn’t been in years. My pussy began to grow wet inside my panties, a treacherous, humid heat I could no longer hide.

***

My feet were wrecked. The heels I had chosen, as beautiful as they were cruel, were taking their toll. Luckily, I had left a pair of flats in the car.

I looked for Gonzalo. I found him chatting with Martín, Daniela’s husband, drink in hand, animated as always whenever the conversation turned to soccer.

—Darling, will you give me the car keys? —I asked, leaning forward with a tired smile—. I left my other shoes in the trunk.

—Do you want me to come with you? —he asked immediately, reaching for his pocket.

—There’s no need —I cut him off, stroking his arm—. You’re enjoying yourself. I’ll be right back.

He gave me the keys without insisting. I crossed the hall, grateful for the cool air when I stepped outside. I walked quickly to the parking lot, my feet protesting with every movement. The murmur of music and laughter gradually faded behind me, as if I were entering another world.

I opened the trunk, took out the bag, and sat on the edge of the back seat to change. I felt immediate relief as I freed myself from the heels, barefoot, my legs exposed beneath the lifted fabric of my dress.

—Are you angry about what I said to you earlier?

The voice, so close, startled me. I looked up and there he was. Adrián. His hair tousled and wearing that insolent smile that disarmed me.

—I… I was changing my shoes —I stammered, suddenly feeling exposed, as though he had caught me in an intimate act—. No, I’m not angry.

He took a couple of steps toward me. My heart hammered. He smelled of alcohol and cologne. He leaned in, bracing one hand against the door frame and trapping me with no way out.

—I’m crazy about you —he whispered in a deep voice I had never heard from him; his green eyes held me captive—. I couldn’t let you leave without telling you again.

His closeness scorched me. I could feel the heat of his body inches from mine, the tension in his muscles, his quickened breathing. I should have looked away, pushed him, remembered where I was and who he was. But I stayed still, hypnotized.

—You shouldn’t talk to me like that, Adrián… —I murmured, trying to sound firm, but my voice trembled—. Anyone could misunderstand.

—And how do you want me to talk to you? —he shot back, leaning a little closer. His warm breath brushed my face—. As if you were Lucas’s mother? Or as what you really are to me?

My stomach clenched when I heard my son’s name from his mouth.

—And what am I to you? —I asked, unable to stop myself, my voice barely a thread.

He smiled insolently, and his fingers brushed the bare skin of my arm.

—A hot woman I’m dying to fuck. —His voice vibrated against my skin—. The woman I’ve been jerking off to for years. I hope you don’t mind if I tell you I cum thinking about you every night… your mouth, your pussy, how you’d moan if I shoved it all the way inside you.

I couldn’t breathe. All I had to do was stand up, close the trunk, and return to the hall. All I had to do was remember that my husband was inside. And yet I remained there, sitting barefoot, my heart racing and my panties soaked. Every second I failed to pull away was a silent surrender.

Adrián gave me no time to think. He leaned over me, one hand on the door frame and the other on my bare thigh. I was still sitting there, vulnerable, my heels tossed to one side and my dress raised a few inches too far.

When his mouth seized mine, I felt the world stop. It was a wet, shameless kiss, his tongue pushing against mine without permission, plunging to the back of my mouth as though he were already fucking me in there. A muffled sound escaped my lips and, instead of pushing him away, I clung to the seat as if that could return a control I had already lost.

The taste of gin in his mouth, the heat of his body looming over mine, the pressure of his hand slowly moving up my leg… it all undid me. My thighs parted without my being able to stop them, silently inviting him. His palm climbed along the inside, barely scratching me with his nails, and my pussy suddenly throbbed, drenched, wanting him to reach the top already.

A scream echoed in my head. It’s Adrián, my best friend’s son, my son’s best friend… and yet I’m kissing him like a whore, legs spread, wanting him to fuck me in my husband’s car.

His firm hand rose until it brushed the damp fabric of my underwear. The contact tore a gasp from me. He pressed two fingers against the seam, feeling the puddle between my legs, and smiled against my mouth.

—Fuck… you’re soaked. You’re dripping for me —he murmured, biting my lip before plunging his tongue in again—. All this wetness is mine, isn’t it?

—We shouldn’t… —I whispered, but the protest was lost between his lips.

He pulled the fabric aside in one motion and his hot fingers sank into me without waiting. Two fingers, all at once, to the knuckles. I felt him opening me, entering with a single thrust, and a rough moan escaped my throat.

—Ah…! —I gasped, squeezing my eyes shut, flushed and unable to look at him.

He caressed me inside with a rough rhythm, curling his fingers, searching for the spot that made me writhe. He pulled his soaked fingers out to the tips and plunged them back in harder, sloshing obscenely, the sound of my wet pussy filling the car. Every movement was lewd, shameless, and I writhed against his hand, melting, thrusting my hips involuntarily, seeking more, without an ounce of the firmness I should have shown.

He pressed my clitoris with his thumb at the same time, drawing quick circles, and I felt my legs give way right there, still seated. An electric lash shot through my belly.

—Look at you, grinding your ass against my hand —he gasped, biting my neck—. A proper lady, Gonzalo’s wife, and you melt as soon as I put my fingers inside you. Say it. Say you love it.

—Adrián, please… —I moaned, my eyes tightly shut.

—Say it —he insisted, thrusting harder and curling his fingers inside me.

—I… I love it —I confessed in a thread of voice, dying of embarrassment.

Suddenly he pulled them out. The emptiness tore another moan from me, a protesting moan, my pussy closing around nothing. He held them up between us, glistening and dripping all the way to his wrist, and gripped my chin with his other hand, forcing me to open my mouth.

—Suck them —he ordered, with an authority I had never heard from him.

He put them between my lips without giving me a choice. The thick taste filled my mouth, mixed with his saliva. I sucked them, licked them, ran my tongue between them as if they were a miniature cock, while he held my face so I wouldn’t look away.

—That’s it… —he murmured with a crooked smile—. Suck them well, every last drop. Tell me whose taste that is.

—Mine… —I gasped, trembling and breathless.

—Louder —he demanded, barely withdrawing his fingers.

—Mine! —I said in a broken voice, amid saliva and shame.

He laughed obscenely, enjoying my humiliation and forcing me to look straight at him.

—You know? —he whispered—. I always knew that one day I’d end up with Lucas’s mother just like this: my fingers in her pussy and her own juices in my mouth. And this is only the beginning.

The words struck like a low, brutal, filthy blow. I felt immediate heat in my chest, a mixture of anger and desire, while he watched me with that arrogance that made him even more unbearable… and more exciting.

—Adrián… —My voice was barely a broken whisper—. You’d better go. I can’t do this…

—Go? —he laughed contemptuously—. With my cock like this? No fucking way.

The metallic click of the zipper filled the silence. With a slow movement he opened his trousers, lowered his briefs, and freed himself before me without shame, both a threat and a promise. It was thick and long, with a swollen head and a prominent vein throbbing beneath it. The tip gleamed, already beaded with a thick drop stretching toward the ground.

—Look what you’ve done to me —he whispered insolently, wrapping his hand around the base and jerking himself a couple of times in front of my face—. This is what you cause. This whole cock is for you.

I went cold. He was the second man I had ever seen like that in my life, and the comparison struck me like a slap: Gonzalo’s was shorter, less thick, never became so brutally hard, so aggressive. Adrián’s was a young, hungry, loaded cock. Adrián took my hand and guided it, closing my fingers around the shaft. His skin was burning, taut, alive, and my hesitant fingers closed almost by themselves around that hard flesh.

—Jerk me off… —he ordered in a hoarse voice—. Slowly at first. Do what I’ve always dreamed you would do to me.

My hand began to move, clumsy at first, guided by his. It rose to the head and descended again to the base, feeling his cock swell more with every stroke. With my thumb I accidentally gathered the thick drop from the tip and spread it over the entire head, and he let out a rough grunt.

—That’s it… —he gasped, his eyes fixed on mine—. Squeeze harder. Look at me while you jerk me off. Fuck, you’re so hot, you do it so well.

I obeyed, tightening my fist and setting a firm rhythm, unable to look away, my breathing racing. I forgot everything: my husband inside the hall, my friend a few yards away, the car door half-open. I saw only that young cock moving back and forth between my fingers, throbbing whenever I brushed his frenulum. Then he brought his other hand to the nape of my neck and slowly pushed me toward him.

—Now I want your mouth… —he growled—. Eat me. Suck my cock the way I’ve imagined for years.

I froze for a second. My heart hammered. It was madness, crossing a line from which there was no return. And yet I opened my lips and brushed him with them, barely a wet kiss on his swollen head.

The salty taste filled my mouth. Adrián let out a rough gasp, and I, as if hypnotized, slowly took him in, inch by inch, my tongue pressed beneath that hard cock that filled me completely. I had never done it like that, not even with my husband; I had always been hesitant, had always hated the thought of swallowing a whole cock. And yet that night I found myself surrendering, letting his hand guide the back of my head, my eyes wet and my cheeks burning, taking him down until I felt him strike the back of my throat.

—Fuck… like that, all the way down, take all of me —he gasped, looking down at me with a grimace of pleasure and contempt—. Look at Lucas’s mother swallowing my cock like a slut in the parking lot.

The word humiliated me and turned me on in equal measure. I closed my eyes and applied myself, moving my head up and down, sucking hard, hollowing my cheeks around that hot flesh, letting a thick strand of saliva run down my chin and fall onto my cleavage. With one hand I kept jerking the base, while with the other I squeezed his balls, feeling them heavy, loaded, swollen with everything he was carrying inside for me.

Adrián tightened his fingers in the nape of my neck and began fucking my mouth, thrusting himself and setting the rhythm. His cock went in and out with a wet, obscene sound, sloshing through my saliva. Sometimes he sank all the way in and left it there, choking me for a second, watching me enjoy the bright reflection of tears in my eyes.

—Stick out your tongue… lick my balls —he ordered, pulling my head back. I obeyed, extending my broad tongue and licking those heavy balls while he jerked his cock against my face, lightly slapping my cheek and open mouth with the head—. Good girl. That’s it, look at me with your mouth open.

Whenever someone opened the door to the hall, the murmur and music filtered into the parking lot. Voices, laughter… Then silence returned. That back-and-forth kept me on the verge of collapse. The fear of being discovered, far from stopping me, pushed me harder. I swallowed him whole again, gasping through my nose, my throat closing around his cock.

—Don’t stop… fuck, don’t stop… that’s it, suck me as if I were the last thing you had in life —he murmured, panting.

I obeyed him, and as I did, I wanted him to feel that none of those little girls he and my son crossed paths with could compare to me, that none of them knew how to suck like this, that none of them would ever be half the woman I was. I squeezed his balls with one hand, jerked him toward my mouth with the other, and pressed my tongue against his frenulum every time I came up. His cock was throbbing all over now, taut as a cord.

—Finish already… —I begged for a moment, pulling away, a thread of saliva still linking me to the tip—. I have to go back inside.

—Almost… —he gasped, his abdomen tense, jerking himself furiously in front of my face—. Let me watch you… I want to finish on your tits. I want to fill you with milk.

I froze for a second. No one had ever spoken to me with such a lack of manners; my husband had always been romantic and polite, always finishing inside me and in silence. I looked toward the exit, feeling fear hammering at my temples, but desire overpowered everything.

With trembling hands I lowered the straps of my dress, first one and then the other. The fabric slipped over my shoulders, and the cold air of the early morning raised gooseflesh on my skin. He tore open my black bra, and my tits were exposed to his eyes for the first time, heavy, their nipples hard as stones.

—God… —his voice broke, loaded with desire—. I’ve always dreamed of this. Look at those tits, fuck, look at the tits my best friend’s mother has.

He grabbed one breast with his free hand, squeezing it hard and pinching my nipple between his forefinger and thumb until he tore a moan from me. With the other he jerked his cock with increasingly rapid thrusts, making dull slapping sounds against his hipbones, his eyes fixed on mine, then on my tits, then back on my face.

—Stick out your tongue again —he gasped—. Look at me… look at me while I come. And stay still; don’t move a fucking inch.

I couldn’t look away. I stuck out my tongue as he asked, my eyes wide open, offering him my breast and mouth at once. His breathing ran wild, his hand moved at blinding speed, his moans rose, until with a muffled growl he went rigid, his belly contracted, and he began to come. A hot jet struck my chin first, then my lip, and several thick spurts fell onto my tits, between my breasts, slowly running down to my stomach. The final release he pressed against my nipple, coating every last inch of skin. I closed my eyes, trembling, my mouth open with a drop of semen on my tongue, caught between remorse and a brutal excitement burning inside me. My pussy contracted on its own, throbbing empty, jealous, wanting that same milk inside it.

Adrián still rubbed his sensitive head against my nipple, spreading his cum over it and marking me as if I belonged to him. He tried to kiss me again, seeking my lips with his eager tongue. But this time I stopped him, my arm firm against his shoulder.

—Go… —I whispered shakily, his semen still running down my chest.

He looked at me in surprise, still panting, his cock gleaming and already softening between his hands. He wanted to insist, but I burst into sobs.

—Get out! —I shouted, tears spilling down my face—. Go right now!

Adrián backed away, raised his hands in surrender, stuffed his cock back into his trousers as best he could, and disappeared among the cars. I remained motionless for several seconds, trembling. At last I reacted, took a handkerchief from my purse, and began wiping away the thick semen dripping between my tits and down my stomach. Every swipe seemed useless, as though I would never erase what I had done, as though the smell of that young man had stuck to my skin forever.

I pulled up my bra, straightened my dress, gathered my heels, and looked at myself in the rearview mirror: smeared makeup, tousled hair, reddened eyes, swollen lips from sucking cock. I took several deep breaths, forcing myself to pull myself together. I could still taste Adrián’s salt on my tongue. I had to go back in as if nothing had happened.

***

Walking back through the doors of the hall was like being slapped. The music vibrated, people laughed and danced, and the waiters served drinks. Everything was still the same. No one, absolutely no one, seemed to have noticed that I had just betrayed my friend, my son, and my husband, that my panties were soaked and my tits smeared with semen beneath my dress.

I looked for Elena. I saw her chatting animatedly with some guests, beautiful and happy. I felt a knot in my throat. If she knew that her son had just come on my tits in the parking lot, she’d throw me out of the party screaming, I thought, and the weight of my guilt crushed me.

Then I saw him. Adrián was with my son, the two of them laughing at some foolishness, as if they were still the same children they had always been. When he raised his eyes and found me, he gave me a brief smile, a conspiratorial gesture that churned my stomach. He slowly ran his tongue over his upper lip without taking his eyes off me, as if reminding me what I tasted like. I wanted to run, to disappear.

—Ah, there you are! —Gonzalo appeared beside me, drink in hand—. You look pale.

I swallowed, trying not to fall apart. I stroked his arm and forced a smile.

—Let’s go now, my love… —I whispered—. I’m exhausted.

***

A while later, on the drive home, Gonzalo drove with his usual calm. His hand rested on my leg, suspecting nothing, unaware that his finger was only a few inches from the pussy another man had fingered until it was dripping.

I nodded silently, lost in thought, when I felt my phone vibrate. The screen lit up in the darkness, and my heart lurched. With nervous hands I unlocked it. An unknown number. A message.

It was a video. I lowered the volume and opened it. I almost cried out: it was me, in the back seat of the car, my dress raised, my tits exposed, my mouth open, swallowing Adrián’s cock all the way down. The two of us in profile, clear and recognizable. Everything was visible: my hand jerking him, his semen falling over my breasts, my face with my tongue out waiting for his cum. Everything.

The phone nearly fell from my hands. My stomach clenched, cold sweat running down my back.

—Is something wrong? You seem restless —my husband asked, briefly taking his eyes off the road.

—I’m exhausted —I replied with a sigh.

A second message arrived immediately.

“I know what you did today, slut. And this is only the beginning. Next time I’m putting it all the way inside you.”

My blood ran cold. I glanced at Gonzalo, oblivious, his hand still resting on my leg. I squeezed my thighs together, feeling my pussy throb against my will, and swallowed my tears. I wanted to believe it would end there.

But something inside me screamed otherwise.