What I Taught My Friend’s Virgin Son

This happened about twelve years ago, but I remember it with a clarity that still surprises me. Back then I was forty-five and, as they say, at my prime: brown hair thanks to dye, well-shaped curves that had only become more pronounced with age, and the confidence that comes from having lived long enough not to apologize for anything. I wasn’t thin, but that had stopped mattering a long time before. What mattered was this: a body that turned heads, big heavy tits that had given me two children and were still firm, a round ass that filled out any pair of pants, and the certainty that men got hard just from seeing me walk by.

My life was in order. Married, with my children already grown and making lives of their own. I even had an occasional lover to relieve the boredom of Tuesdays, a married, boring man who fucked me the same way every time, with the same tired cock and the same two positions. I was tired of him too. I needed something different. Something that still had everything to discover, a young hard cock that didn’t yet know everything a cunt like mine could do to it.

Marcos was my friend Silvia’s son. He was twenty, almost six feet tall, with dark hair and those eyes that avoided looking at any woman who wasn’t his mother. He was the kind of boy who showed up at gatherings to say hello with impeccable manners and then disappeared right away. Silvia always said it with pride and a little resignation: “He’s very homebody, very quiet.” I’d listen and think other things. I’d think about what it would be like to have him naked, that virgin or almost-virgin cock in my hands, teaching him what no girl his age would know how to teach him.

What undid me were his arms. One Sunday at Silvia’s house, Marcos showed up in a sleeveless T-shirt to carry some boxes out to the patio. His forearms were corded with veins, his shoulders broad, and his back had nothing whatsoever to do with his invisible-boy attitude. I watched him lift two heavy boxes without the slightest effort, and at that moment I felt my panties go wet without any shame at all. I wondered what it would be like to have him in another context, without his mother nearby, without excuses in the way, with that back flexed over me and that young cock buried all the way inside.

The plan came to me on its own. I waited for Silvia to go into the kitchen and walked up to him with my best smile.

—Hey, Marcos, I need a favor. I’ve got some furniture that needs moving and I can’t do it alone. Could you come by my place tomorrow to help me?

He looked at me with that expression of a well-bred boy who doesn’t know how to say no.

—Of course, ma’am. No problem.

Before I left, I made sure to do it in front of Silvia.

—Hey, I asked Marcos to help me move some furniture tomorrow. Is it okay if he comes by?

Silvia didn’t even blink.

—Of course. Let him get up and do something useful for once.

Marcos looked at the floor. I looked at him, and when he lifted his eyes for a second, I held his gaze just long enough for something to pass between us. He looked right back down again immediately.

***

The next day I had everything ready. I put on a light cotton dress, sleeveless, fitted at the waist, that showed off my chest nicely. No bra, because the heat called for it, I told myself. The truth was I wanted my nipples to show through the fabric and for Marcos to see them when I opened the door. Underneath, a minimal pair of panties, hardly more than a string, wedged between my ass cheeks and reminding me with every step what I was going to do that afternoon. I let my hair down, put on the perfume I knew worked, and moved a couple of boxes to the center of the living room so the excuse would make some sense.

When the doorbell rang, I opened the door slowly. There he was, in a dark T-shirt, baggy jeans, and that boy’s face that doesn’t quite know where to look when there’s a woman in front of him. He swept me from head to toe in one quick, involuntary glance and then fixed his eyes somewhere above my head. I’m sure he caught how my erect nipples showed under the thin cotton, because he swallowed before speaking.

—Good morning. Are the boxes inside?

—Come in —I said, and turned my back on purpose to walk toward the living room, swaying my ass just enough not to let him lose sight of it.

His steps took a second to follow me.

I had him moving boxes from one room to another, then shifting a wardrobe from the hallway to the guest bedroom. He did it without complaint, with that quiet strength that had me burning since the previous Sunday. I pretended to supervise, leaning in the doorway with my arms crossed—crossed right under my breasts, to lift them—letting the work and the heat set the mood. Every time he lifted something heavy and the muscles in his back showed under the fabric, I took a deep breath and felt my cunt tighten on its own. I was already wet. I’d been wet all morning.

When he finished, I went to get water without saying a word. I came back with two glasses, sat beside him on the sofa, and left a distance that wasn’t really enough distance at all. The dress rode up a little when I sat down, and I didn’t pull it back down.

—For someone as handsome as you —I blurted out— I’m sure the girls your age don’t leave you alone.

Marcos almost choked on his water.

—No, ma’am. I don’t go out much.

—No? —I held his gaze— Why not?

—I don’t know. I guess I don’t get along with people my age very well.

Perfect, I thought.

I leaned slightly forward to set the glass on the coffee table. The dress did exactly what I wanted it to do: the neckline opened and my tits spilled out almost completely, the hard nipples just a breath away from escaping. I noticed him following the movement for a long second, his mouth parted, before he looked away with red ears. And I also noticed, with zero subtlety, the bulge beginning to form in his jeans.

—Do you have a girlfriend? —I asked, sitting back down and not bothering to pull the dress down.

—No.

—Never?

He took a moment before answering.

—There was a girl last year. But it wasn’t anything serious.

—How serious? —I pressed, lowering my voice just a little— Did you fuck her?

Marcos went red all the way to his ears. He tried to find some space on the sofa and failed.

—No, ma’am —he admitted, with the honesty of someone who doesn’t know how to lie—. We just... touched each other a little. That’s all.

—That’s all? Didn’t she even suck you off?

He shook his head, keeping his eyes on the floor.

I let the silence do its work for a few seconds. Then I placed my hand over his, slowly, and from there let it slide up to his thigh, very close to the bulge he could no longer hide.

—Marcos... has anyone ever taught you how to kiss for real? How to touch a woman properly? How to fuck her until she screams?

The silence that followed said everything. He neither denied it nor confirmed it. He just looked at me with those big eyes, still not knowing whether what was happening was what it seemed. Under my hand, I felt his cock harden completely beneath the fabric.

I moved in slowly. I put a hand on his cheek, feeling the heat rising into his face, and kissed him. I started softly, savoring his young lips, teaching him the rhythm patiently. When I slipped my tongue in, he gave a little jolt, surprised, but he didn’t pull away. On the contrary: his hands, which had been still on his knees all afternoon, came up to my waist and squeezed with a force that made me moan into his mouth.

He learned very fast.

I grabbed one of his hands and put it straight on my breast, over the dress. He froze for a second, palm spread over my chest, feeling the rock-hard nipple pressing into his hand.

—Squeeze it —I whispered against his mouth—. It’s not going to break.

He squeezed. At first with fear, then with eagerness. I pulled one strap of the dress down and let a breast come fully out. Marcos stared at it as if it were the first one he’d ever seen, and it probably was in the flesh, there ten centimeters from his face. I grabbed the back of his neck and brought him to the nipple.

—Suck it.

He opened his mouth and latched on like a calf. His tongue was clumsy and his teeth slipped at first, but I taught him: circles with the tongue, suck gently, bite just a little. My hand was between his legs, squeezing his cock over the jeans, feeling it twist under the fabric every time I taught him something new with my voice.

***

I led him by the hand to the bedroom. He walked behind me with a mixture of confusion and desire that I found adorable, the bulge in his jeans so pronounced he walked awkwardly. When I closed the door, he stood in the center of the room not knowing what to do with his own body.

—Sit on the bed —I told him.

He obeyed. I stood in front of him, took his face in both hands, and kissed him again, this time more slowly, letting the heat build. His hands found my waist and then the hem of the dress.

—Take this off —I whispered.

He tried awkwardly, looking for a zipper that wasn’t there, until I guided his hands to the straps. The dress fell to the floor and Marcos stood motionless in front of me. I was left with only the tiny string between my legs, already soaked through, shining. His eyes traveled over my body with such complete attention that it almost made me laugh: the big heavy tits hanging in front of his face, the soft belly of a mature woman, the wide hips, the dark triangle shining through the wet fabric.

—What is it? —I asked.

—Nothing —he said in a low, rough voice—. It’s just that you’re very beautiful.

I tore off his T-shirt in one pull. What appeared confirmed everything I’d imagined since Sunday: broad shoulders, a firm chest, that abdomen that showed without the gym because he was simply young and didn’t know any other way to be. I ran my palms over his stomach and felt the muscles tense under my touch. I slid my hands down to his belt, unfastened it without hurry, and opened the button on his jeans.

—Lift your ass.

He lifted it, and I pulled down his pants and underwear all at once. His cock sprang out with such force it slapped my wrist. And what a cock, my God. Long, thick, so hard the head pulled up toward his navel, red from all the blood trapped in it, with a thick drop of pre-cum already beading at the tip. A cock that hadn’t done anything yet and was desperate to do everything.

I knelt in front of him without thinking. Marcos’ eyes went wide.

—Ma’am, you don’t have to...

—Shut up.

I took his cock in my right hand, gripping the base firmly, and ran my tongue along the entire underside, bottom to top, slowly. He shuddered all over. When I reached the tip, I licked the drop of pre-cum from it with the point of my tongue and then took him into my mouth slowly, letting him feel every centimeter go in. I took him all the way to the back of my throat and stayed there for a long second, letting him savor a sensation no twenty-year-old girl would ever have given him.

Marcos let out a moan that was almost a muffled shout. He clenched the sheets in both hands.

I started sucking seriously then, at a proper rhythm, bobbing my head up and down, squeezing the base with my hand, circling my tongue around the tip every time I came up. When I had him completely wet, I pulled back and licked his balls, one first, then the other, sucking them carefully while my hand kept working his shaft. Marcos panted with his mouth open, eyes closed, veins standing out tight in his neck.

—Ma’am, please, stop, I’m going to...

I took him out of my mouth just in time. I squeezed the base hard with two fingers, cutting off the urge.

—Not yet —I said—. Breathe.

He let himself fall back on the bed, chest rising and falling, cock trembling in the air, shiny with my saliva.

I climbed onto the bed and lay down beside him.

—Now it’s your turn —I told him—. Pull my panties down.

He did it with trembling hands, tugging the string down my thighs, over my knees, to my ankles. When I was completely naked, he opened his eyes with an expression that was worth the whole afternoon’s work. I grabbed his hand and put it straight on my pussy.

—Feel how wet I am.

I guided his fingers over my soaked lips, letting him feel the moisture he himself had caused.

—Put one in —I ordered.

He slid in his middle finger, with a clumsiness that made me sigh. I showed him how to move it, how to curl it inward, how to search for the spot that swells when a woman is really hot. I taught him to rub his thumb up to the clit while the finger went in and out. Marcos learned with the attention of a good boy taking an exam: watching my face the whole time to read whether he was doing it right.

—Get your mouth down there —I said.

—My mouth? —he asked.

—Down there. Eat me.

He lowered himself between my legs with a mixture of fear and curiosity. I grabbed his head and guided him.

—Stick out your tongue. Gentle at first. There. Right there.

He did it. With complete clumsiness at first, sucking too hard, barely biting with his teeth without meaning to, until I corrected him with my voice and my hand. I taught him to lick the clit in circles, to suck it gently between his lips, to slide his tongue inside and then back up. After a few minutes the boy was eating me pretty well for a first-timer, and my hips were moving on their own against his face.

—That’s it, that’s it, keep going —I said, grabbing his hair—. Don’t stop now.

He didn’t stop. I came in his mouth a few minutes later, my legs clamping around his head and my nipples so hard they hurt. Marcos stayed down there while I shook, his tongue still working, until I had to push his face away because I couldn’t stand it anymore.

—Up —I panted.

He climbed up. His face was wet from top to bottom, shining, and there was a new smile on it I had never seen in my life. I licked my own juices from his mouth before kissing him.

I climbed on top of him, my hips over his. We kept kissing while my hands ran over his torso and his, less and less shy each time, grabbed my tits, my thighs, my ass. I showed him how to squeeze my cheeks hard, how to spread them apart, how to slide a finger in back if he wanted. When I lowered my mouth to his neck and lightly bit the skin, he let out a sound I hadn’t expected to hear from him.

His cock, trapped between our bodies, was so swollen it almost hurt. I felt it pulsing against my belly.

—Stop —I told him—. Breathe again.

—It’s just...

—I know. Just breathe.

I gave him a moment. Then I got off the bed, opened the drawer in the nightstand, and took out a condom. I handed it to him without ceremony.

—Do you know how to put it on?

He looked at me with a honesty that disarmed me.

—I saw how it was done.

—Then do it.

He did it. With trembling hands, but he did it. And when I lay down beside him and saw his expression shift from fear to something that still didn’t have a name, I knew what was going to happen that afternoon was going to mark his life.

I got on top of him calmly, with the control that comes from years. I took his cock in my hand, put it against the entrance of my soaked cunt, and lowered myself slowly. The head sank in first, tight, and then the rest went in little by little, centimeter by centimeter, until I felt all of it inside, all the way down, his balls pressed against my ass. He let out a sound that was half relief and half awe. I moaned too: I hadn’t felt a cock that hard and thick inside me in years.

I stayed still for a moment, letting him process it. I put my hands on his shoulders and spoke close to his mouth.

—Now just feel. Don’t do anything. I’ll move you.

I started moving slowly, lifting and lowering my hips, pulling almost all the cock out and then taking it back in all the way to the base. He gripped the edge of the mattress with his fingers, closed his eyes, and breathed through his mouth. His hips tried to follow my rhythm, awkwardly at first, but I put a hand on his belly to calm him.

—Stay still. I set the pace.

I set the tempo, I decided when to speed up and when not to. I gradually picked up the pace, my tits bouncing in his face, my hands braced on his young chest, feeling that cock hard as a stone opening me from the inside. I took his hands and put them on my tits.

—Squeeze them. Hard.

He squeezed. I started moving faster, riding him hard, my ass slapping against his thighs with every descent. Feeling that young body beneath mine, that contained energy that still didn’t know how to get out, had me out of my mind. I talked to him while I fucked him:

—Do you like it, Marcos? Do you like how my cunt feels? Tell me you like it.

—I... I like it —he managed to say, voice breaking.

—Harder. Say it right.

—I love it, ma’am. I love how you do it to me.

It didn’t last much longer. A few minutes later his breathing turned ragged and he clenched his teeth. His thighs started shaking.

—I... I can’t anymore —he managed to say.

—It’s okay —I answered, without stopping, squeezing my cunt around his cock—. Come inside. Come now.

And I let him finish. I felt his whole body tense beneath me, felt his cock pulse inside me and unload, while he let out a long moan with his head buried in the pillow.

He stayed motionless beneath me with his eyes closed and his chest rising and falling hard. I stayed on top of him for a while, with him still inside, feeling him throb as he came down from it. Then I sat beside him, calm, while he came back from wherever he’d gone. It took him a while to open his eyes, and when he did, he spoke before I could say anything.

—Sorry. It was really fast.

—For the first time you’ve ever really fucked someone —I said—, it was good.

I watched him struggle between pride and embarrassment.

—Really?

—Really.

***

It didn’t take him long to recover. That twenty-year-old body had its own rules, and I knew it better than he did. I grabbed his cock with my hand, still soft and sticky inside the used condom, and took it off him. I threw it in the trash. I started jerking him off slowly, with a tight grip, and within minutes he was hard again, just like at the start.

When I felt him starting to move with intention, I stopped him with a hand on his chest.

—This time —I told him— you’re going to hold out longer. If you feel like you can’t anymore, you think about something else until it passes. And you’re not going to come until I tell you to. Understood?

He nodded with a seriousness that amused me.

I put a fresh condom on him myself, rolling it down slowly with both hands so he would learn how it was done properly. Then I turned around, got on all fours on the bed, and looked at him over my shoulder.

—Come back here. You’re going to fuck me like this.

He knelt behind me, a little lost. I reached over my shoulder, took his cock, and placed it at my entrance myself.

—Push in slowly. All the way.

He pushed. His cock slid in at once, to the base, and we both moaned at the same time. I took his hands and placed them on my hips.

—Now grab me tight and move. But slowly. If you feel yourself going, stop.

He started fucking me from behind with long, awkward thrusts at first, which I corrected with my voice.

—Deeper. Like that. Now faster. No, slower again.

I was more demanding in this second round. I taught him to hold the rhythm without losing his head, to focus on the motion and not the outcome. Every time I could tell from the sounds he made that he was at the edge, I made him stop. He would stay still inside me, breathing through his mouth, waiting for the order to go on. When he calmed down, I made him start from zero again.

We changed positions several times. I made him lie on his back and rode him reversed, facing away, so he could see my whole ass moving on his cock as he drove it into me. Then I put him on top of me, between my open legs, with my ankles resting on his shoulders, and showed him how to thrust deep by flexing his hips. I taught him to suck my tits while he fucked me, to kiss my neck, to look me in the eyes when he was inside. I taught him to keep his cock buried all the way in and stay still there, letting me be the one moving against him, so my cunt could do all the work.

It was a long lesson. And a pleasurable one for both of us, because I got mine too. I came twice more before letting him finish: once with him underneath me, with two of his fingers on my clit while I rode him, and once on my back against the mattress, with him on top of me driving hard, one hand over my mouth because I was screaming too much.

When I finally gave him permission, it was with a different intensity than the first time.

—Now —I panted in his ear, my legs locked around his ass—. Come inside. All of it.

He came with his mouth open against my neck, body taut, driving all the way in with two or three final thrusts and staying there, nailed inside me, throbbing. He felt it too.

—Now that was something else —he murmured, still panting, when he finally pulled out and collapsed beside me.

—That’s what happens when you learn —I told him.

I looked at him from the other side of the bed. His hair was plastered to his forehead, his lips swollen, and he had that look of someone who has just realized the world is much bigger than he thought. It made me incredibly tender. And it also, I confess, made me want to see him come back.

When he started getting dressed, I stopped him.

—Take my number —I said—. In case you need more lessons.

He saved it in his phone with a concentration that made me smile. At the door, before leaving, he stopped and looked at me.

—When can I come back?

—Whenever you want —I answered—. But no more furniture excuses. Those aren’t needed anymore.

He smiled. It wasn’t the smile of the shy boy who showed up to say hello at his mother’s gatherings and disappeared right away. It was something else. It was the beginning of something that lasted far longer than either of us expected.

Marcos came back many times. With each visit he got a little farther and left a little more of a man than when he’d arrived. I taught him everything I knew about pleasure, with the patience of someone who has time and the satisfaction of watching someone grow from zero. I taught him to eat pussy until no other woman could ever complain, to fuck in every position I could think of, to last as long as needed, and to come when I told him to. Those afternoons were the best I’d had in a long time. And that first afternoon, with its nerves and awkwardness and that young cock that still didn’t know what it was worth, was the one neither of us ever forgot.