The Mask That Hid My Friend’s Mother

We were in the entryway, Marcos and I, smoking the second cigarette while his anger slowly began to fade. It was a February cold that sliced at your face, and the guy had been ranting for a while about his father.

“It’s like he’s a kid, Hugo. He spends what he doesn’t have on stupid crap, and in the end the one who has to put up with it is my mother.”

I nodded in agreement, blowing smoke out toward the empty street. I told him his father was a loose cannon and that Amparo, his mother, was a saint who put up with everything. I meant it with a double edge, of course, though he couldn’t possibly suspect it.

If you only knew half of what I know.

I started changing the subject so he’d calm down. Football, work, women. The usual. But while we talked, the cold and the boredom planted an idea in my head, one of those you know you shouldn’t even graze, and that precisely for that reason you can’t let go of.

I told him we’d been friends for years and that I didn’t like seeing him like this, so sour. He barely answered, taking drags on his cigarette. Then I lowered my voice and told him I’d been sleeping with a neighbor from the neighborhood for a while.

“A married woman,” I added. “Mature, with a lot of fire inside. And discreet, because she doesn’t want trouble.”

His eyes lit up at once.

“Who is it? Come on, tell me.”

“That’s exactly what I can’t tell you. But I’m going to tell you something: if you behave yourself, maybe I’ll even let you take part.”

He laughed, nervous, smoke slipping out between his teeth. The conversation quickly turned into what it always did among horny guys at that hour: who was fucking whom, whether we could ever swap, share one. He started throwing out names of neighbors we knew by sight. The woman on the fifth floor, who took the trash out in a robe. The one downstairs, with those curves that caught your eye.

I went along with him, but I kept slipping in details only I knew.

“Mine’s tall,” I said. “Short hair, curly, dark. Generous curves. She walks with a sway that keeps you thinking about her all day. She smells like soft perfume. She looks like a friendly neighbor, but inside she’s been holding back desire for years.”

Marcos fell silent for a second. He took a long drag and looked at me strangely, eyes shining.

“Damn, Hugo… that description sounds familiar.”

I smiled slowly, neither confirming nor denying it.

“I’m meeting her tonight. At my place. She comes up after her husband falls asleep. If you want to come, come. But under conditions. She doesn’t want anyone to know who she is.”

“Come on, tell me the conditions.”

I lowered my voice even more, in case anyone crossed the entryway.

“First: a mask. She wears a black one and doesn’t take it off under any circumstances. Not for anything. She knows you by sight, so she can’t risk you recognizing her.”

“Okay.”

“Second: she doesn’t speak. Not one word. If she opens her mouth, you’d recognize her voice. Only sighs. Don’t try to draw her out, because if you do, she leaves.”

He nodded, swallowing hard.

“Third: she likes it rough. She likes being treated harshly, being told filthy things. The more you humiliate her, the hotter she gets. And fourth: we share her. Both of us at once. If either of us breaks any of those rules, the night’s over and she never comes back.”

“Fuck… yes. I want it. What time?”

“At twelve. You come up on time, ring the bell, and I’ll let you in. She’ll already be inside, waiting. No questions. Just pleasure.”

He nodded frantically, threw his cigarette to the ground and crushed it under his sneaker. We hugged and he headed for the elevator with a stupid grin. I stayed in the entryway a little longer, thinking about the next step.

***

Long before the hour, I went down to Amparo’s apartment. Her husband was snoring on the sofa with an empty bottle beside him, as on almost every night. I knocked softly on the door. She opened it in her robe, hair half tied up, with that guilty-and-needy look she got when I showed up.

I handed her the black mask, one of those that cover the whole face except the mouth.

“Tonight you’re putting this on. And you’re not taking it off no matter what.”

“Why?” she whispered.

“Because we’re having a guest. He’s not going to know who you are, and neither is he. And for that same reason you can’t say a single word. If you break the rule, he’ll find out who you are. And trust me, that won’t do you any favors.”

Fear showed in her face, and I liked that. I deliberately put more pressure on her.

“Come up in half an hour. Alone. And get ready, because tonight we’re going to really enjoy ourselves.”

She was shaking all over, dead nervous, but she nodded. I don’t know if it was desire or just the pure inertia of not knowing how to tell me no. At the agreed time she came up in silence, her robe badly closed, her breasts shifting with each step. She arrived at my apartment and I positioned her in the middle of the living room, on her knees, mask on, hands free in case at some point she really wanted to leave. I gave her a soft kiss on the cheek, over the black leather.

“Not a sound until I say so. If you go off-script, I’ll take the mask off in front of him. Understand?”

She nodded, frightened. Just then the bell rang, punctual.

“If you don’t want anyone to know the kind of woman you really are,” I murmured in her ear, “not a word.”

Her eyes widened behind the mask, and I felt her breathing speed up. I went to the door without giving her time to think any more. Marcos came in with a nervous smile, eyes bright.

“Holy shit… is that her?”

I closed the door, locked it, and pointed at Amparo, kneeling in the center of the living room: black mask, breasts exposed, trembling between desire and nerves.

“That’s her. She doesn’t speak. Enjoy her. Both of us at once.”

I sighed inwardly, relieved he hadn’t recognized her.

***

Marcos came closer slowly, as if afraid of breaking the spell. He lowered his zipper and looked down at her, voice hoarse.

“Fuck… what a woman. Look how she shines.”

He gave her a soft kiss on the shoulder, stroked her back, and whispered near her ear:

“You like this? Does it turn you on when two guys touch you like this?”

She nodded frantically, her moans muffled behind the mask. I stood behind her, kissed the nape of her neck, and entered her slowly, deeply. She arched her back and a long sigh escaped her. Each thrust of mine pushed her against Marcos’s body, and between the two of us we rocked her from side to side, as if she weighed nothing.

He brought his cock to her mouth and she took him in eagerly, as if she’d been waiting for years. She groped her breasts, squeezed them with desire, pinched her nipples until he let out a groan that was half pain, half pleasure.

“What curves… they drive me crazy,” he panted.

I kept going at a building rhythm, alternating the thrusts, marking her hips with my hands. She came almost immediately, her whole body shaking, a tremor climbing up from her legs. Marcos didn’t last much longer: he came with a grunt, and she swallowed eagerly, not knowing, not suspecting. I finished shortly after, emptying myself inside her while I bit her shoulder.

We left her sprawled on the rug for a moment, panting, the mask soaked with sweat and saliva, her legs still parted as if she expected more. Marcos was half pulling his pants back up, huffing.

“Fuck… incredible. Look how she lets herself be handled.”

I went to the kitchen and came back with a wine bottle that was half full. I won’t say I was proud of what I came up with, but that night I didn’t want to just enjoy her: I wanted to break her, see how far she would take it. Marcos’s eyes widened when he understood where this was going, and immediately he started looking around the living room for something he could get creative with too.

Amparo was still face down on the rug, her buttocks slightly raised, breath coming in short gasps and her breasts flattened against the rough wool. The black mask still covered her eyes and half her face.

“You’re going to put more things in her or what?” Marcos said, and even though he was speaking with irony, his voice was thick with pure lust.

I knelt beside her and spread her ass cheeks with both hands. She was dilated, slick. I ran the cold neck of the bottle over her slowly, until a long, broken moan escaped her. She pushed her hips back, offering herself without a single word, and that was all the permission either of us needed.

Marcos, who until then had only been watching with his mouth slightly open, stepped forward. His face was flushed and his cock was hard again, outlined in his jeans.

“Let me… can I try something?” he murmured, almost voiceless.

His eyes stopped on the low table: an unopened bottle of oil, the smooth handle of a rolling pin I’d left there after making pizza in the afternoon. He took the oil with trembling fingers and poured it over her back, letting it slide slowly. Then he grabbed the rolling pin, coated it well, rubbed it against his palm to warm it.

“Hugo… can I?”

“Do whatever you want,” I laughed.

Amparo answered by pushing her hips back again, slow, deliberate. Marcos positioned the wood and pushed little by little. She let out a muffled whimper that turned into a moan as she yielded, opening more than she had ever been opened before. The guy started moving it with a gentle rocking motion, deeper each time, oil dripping everywhere, the slick, obscene sound filling the living room.

I got back in front of her and lifted her chin. The mask was crooked, but I didn’t take it off. I put three fingers in her mouth and she sucked them eagerly, as if she were still hungry.

“Do you want the two of us to fill you at once?” I asked, almost tenderly.

She nodded quickly, desperate. Marcos, without taking out the rolling pin, yanked down his jeans and shoved himself into her in one go. She screamed around my fingers, her whole body shaking in another violent orgasm. The three of us had her at once, and the room smelled of spilled wine, oil, and sweat.

“I’m going to come on the mask,” he announced between gasps. “Let it all stick to her.”

And he did, splashing the black leather, sliding down her chin, mixing with her saliva. He drove a couple more hard thrusts, growled something unintelligible, and emptied himself into her, pushing so hard the rolling pin moved with every удар. Amparo convulsed again, soaking everything.

I pulled my fingers out of her mouth and gave her a soft slap on the cheek.

“Good girl.”

***

We left her for a moment, trembling, covered in fluids, the mask a sticky mess. Marcos stood staring at her, breathing hard, as if he’d just discovered something about himself he hadn’t known was inside him.

“Do we keep going?” he asked in a low voice, almost afraid.

Amparo, without moving from the floor, only lifted her hips a little, and that answered for her.

“Fuck, she loves it,” he laughed. “Can we do this again next week?”

I looked at the masked woman and gave her a soft kiss over the leather.

“Of course. If she wants to.”

She nodded weakly, still on her knees. Marcos got fully dressed, thanked me with a slap on the back, and said goodbye with a smile he couldn’t wipe off. When the door closed behind him, I slowly took off her mask. Amparo looked at me with glassy eyes, voice rough.

“Hugo… you’re a son of a bitch. But… I enjoyed that like crazy.”

I gave her a soft kiss on the mouth.

“I knew you’d like it. And next time it’ll be even better.”

She smiled, exhausted and satisfied, not even imagining the name of the second man who had had her in his hands that night. I sent her to shower and told her to wash herself well, because the night still wasn’t over for us.