My Best Friend Entered the Honeymoon Suite That Night

Clara looked at herself in the suite bathroom mirror one last time before heading down to the altar. The white dress fit her body as if it had been built around her, which was somehow true: four months of fittings, alterations, and arguments with the dressmaker to get the fabric to fall exactly where it needed to fall. Thirty-three years old, a body that made no apologies for anything, firm breasts peeking from the neckline and a round ass that the tailored cut showed off without shame. A knot in her stomach that wasn’t nerves but pure anticipation, and a warm dampness between her thighs that she had been trying to ignore all morning.

The ceremony was what it was supposed to be: emotional, endless, with uncles crying more than mothers. Rodrigo was waiting for her by the altar with that serious expression he wore when he was trying to hold something back, and Clara felt, at the exact moment their gazes met at the end of the aisle, that she wanted him more than she would ever know how to explain in words. They said their vows, kissed when the priest gave the signal, and for the next five hours posed for a hundred and forty different photos with different combinations of relatives.

What nobody photographed was the way Valeria looked at her.

Valeria wore a bottle-green dress with a plunging neckline that had been hard to choose. Clara knew because she had gone with her three weeks earlier to look for something for the wedding, and they had spent two hours in three different stores until Valeria tried on that green dress and they both knew there were no more options. Clara had told her she looked perfect with a naturalness she hadn’t felt at all while saying it. The truth was she had had to bite her lip not to imagine ripping it off her in the fitting room.

Twelve years of friendship teach you to read someone better than you read yourself. Clara knew when Valeria was uncomfortable at a gathering, when she was lying about something insignificant, when something was getting on her nerves even if she was smiling. And she knew, with that same learned precision, what the look Valeria gave her meant each time they crossed the room during the cocktail hour: restrained intention, no rush, no apologies. Valeria’s eyes dropped to the neckline, lingered a second too long on her mouth, and came back up with the slowness of someone who has already decided that tonight she’s collecting what she’s been waiting twelve years to claim.

It wasn’t the first time they had looked at each other like that. It was the first time Clara decided not to look away.

***

The open bar started after midnight and the atmosphere in the reception hall changed in a matter of minutes. The children were asleep in the cars parked outside, the grandparents had left with long hugs and promises to call soon, and those left were the usual ones at this kind of wedding: childhood friends who held out until the end, young cousins who hadn’t seen each other in a year, coworkers with their ties folded in their jacket pockets.

Rodrigo was dancing at the back of the floor with his older brother. Clara was by the bar, barefoot for the past hour, with a glass of whiskey in her hand and the dress still intact. She watched the room with that strange feeling she sometimes got at parties: being fully present and at the same time slightly on the margins, as if things were happening to her at a distance that was small but noticeable.

—You’re thinking too much —Valeria said, appearing at her side without announcing herself.

—I’m always thinking too much.

—Yeah, but tonight is different. —Valeria leaned on the bar, elbows down, and looked her straight in the face without any attempt to hide it.— I’ve been watching you all night.

Clara took a moment to answer. She took a long sip and let the silence fill the space between them.

—What are you doing, Valeria?

—Nothing yet. —She smiled slowly.— But I could do something if you wanted.

—Like what.

—Like go up to that suite with you, take that white bride’s dress off you, and put my tongue in your cunt until you come all over my face. For example.

She said it without raising her voice, without losing her smile, with the same ease she’d use to ask for another drink. Clara’s panties tightened all at once and she noticed, with almost embarrassing clarity, how she was starting to get wet again standing there, among people still dancing three meters away.

—Fuck, Valeria.

—I’ve been thinking it for twelve years. You deserved the full sentence.

It wasn’t a declaration loaded with drama. It was exactly what it seemed: a direct question between two people who knew each other too well to beat around the bush. And yet Clara’s heart gave a leap that had nothing to do with alcohol.

She searched for Rodrigo automatically. He was still on the dance floor, but had turned slightly and from that position had a direct line of sight toward where they were standing. Clara looked at him. He looked at her. And then he looked at Valeria, and then back at Clara, and the expression on his face wasn’t surprise so much as something closer to an open question. Clara held his gaze and nodded very slowly, once. Rodrigo ran his tongue over his lower lip and nodded back.

Something clicked into place in Clara’s chest.

—Come up with us when this is over —she said, with a calm that surprised even her.

Valeria lifted her glass in a silent toast and drank without looking away.

***

At quarter past two, the last guests left amid hugs that went on too long and promises to get together soon. Clara and Rodrigo waited for the elevator in the lobby with Valeria between them. Nobody spoke during the four floors. Music from the hall drifted up from below, something slow that Clara never managed to identify. In the reflection of the elevator’s metal doors, Clara saw Valeria’s hand brush her ass over the dress, with full intention, while Rodrigo watched and said nothing.

The suite was spacious and exactly as they had left it that morning when they got ready there: the bed untouched, flowers on the low tables, a bottle of cava in an ice bucket that had already melted almost all the ice. Through the window, the city lights could be seen at that hour of the early morning, mostly dimmed but still enough that the room wasn’t completely dark.

Rodrigo opened the cava. Clara left her shoes by the door. Valeria shut the door and leaned her back against the wood for a moment, looking around the room.

—And now what? —Rodrigo asked, with the glass in his hand and a smile that tried to seem calmer than it was.

—Now you stay where you are for a moment —Valeria said—. And you watch.

She walked up to Clara without haste, with that way of moving she had when she knew exactly what she was doing. She put a hand on Clara’s cheek, ran her thumb over her lower lip, and slipped it into her mouth for a second. Clara sucked without thinking. Valeria smiled and slowly drew the finger out, leaving it wet before sliding it down her neck, over her collarbone, until she pressed it into the start of the bride’s neckline.

When she kissed her, she kissed her for real: mouth open, tongue against tongue, biting her lip as she let go. Clara didn’t move at first. Then she did, and a lot, because there are things you keep stored away for twelve years and when you finally let them out they have a weight you didn’t expect. She grabbed Valeria’s face with both hands and kissed her like she wanted to eat her, and Valeria laughed into Clara’s mouth and slipped a hand under the dress, sliding it up her thigh until she found the wet fabric of her panties.

—You’re already soaked. Slut.

—I’ve been wet since the ceremony.

—Whore.

—Shut up and keep going.

Rodrigo drank the cava without interfering, standing by the window, watching. His erection was clearly outlined against his suit pants and he didn’t even try to hide it.

—You okay? —Clara asked him without fully breaking away from Valeria.

—Very —he answered, his voice a little rougher than usual—. Keep going.

***

The wedding dress hit the floor with more difficulty than expected: the back zipper had a hook that always got stuck, and Rodrigo tried twice before Valeria moved his hands aside with a gesture and fixed it in three seconds. The three of them laughed. The awkwardness dissolved the last of the nervous tension, and what came after was more natural than Clara would have imagined.

Clara was left in a white lace bra and matching panties that Valeria ripped off with a sideways yank as soon as she laid her down on the bed. She spread her legs without ceremony, gave her a slow kiss on the inside of the thigh, and lowered herself to look closely at her cunt, with the same concentration she brought to everything.

—Twelve years imagining this —she murmured.

—Then stop looking at it and eat me out already.

Valeria obeyed. She ran her whole tongue from bottom to top, flat and broad, and Clara arched her back with a gasp that came out louder than she wanted. Valeria repeated it, slower, tracing the outline of her lips with the tip of her tongue, sucking on her clit with sealed lips, pushing the hood back with two fingers to get better access. She knew what she was doing. She knew exactly what she was doing. Clara grabbed her hair with one hand and shoved her against her cunt without asking permission.

—Like that, fuck, like that, keep going, don’t stop.

Valeria slid two fingers inside and curled the tips upward, searching for the exact spot, and when she found it Clara let out a moan that finally made Rodrigo come over from the window. He sat on the edge of the bed, undid his belt, pulled his hard cock out of his pants, and started stroking it slowly, watching his wife writhe under her best friend’s tongue.

—Come here —Clara told him, reaching out her hand—. Here.

Rodrigo knelt beside her face and Clara took his cock in her hand and put it in her mouth without ceremony. She sucked it all the way down, letting it slide to the back of her throat, pulling it out slick with spit to run her tongue over his balls before swallowing it again. Rodrigo let out a guttural groan and put a hand on the back of her neck, not to force her but to match the movement.

Clara was between the two of them and felt that difference with a sharpness that fascinated her: Valeria’s tongue working her clit with watchmaker precision, the fingers inside her to the knuckles coming in and out with obscene wet slaps, and her husband’s hard cock filling her mouth until it made her gag a little. She closed her eyes and let the two of them fuck her at the same time. She came sooner than she would have liked, mouth full and hips thrusting against Valeria’s face, shaking all over for what felt like half a minute.

Valeria lifted her face, chin shining, with a smile that was half pride and half threat.

—Tastes like wedding —she said, and ran her tongue along Rodrigo’s mouth corner to make him taste it.

Rodrigo kissed Valeria for the first time that night, with the taste of Clara still in both their mouths, and Clara lay there watching the scene from the pillow with her breathing fast and wanting it never to end.

***

They changed positions several times over the course of the night. Valeria finally stripped —Clara unhooked her black bra and took her tits out to suck her nipples one by one, biting them until she hissed— and ended up lying on her back with her legs open. Clara got between them to return the favor, her face buried in Valeria’s shaved cunt, learning her taste and rhythm with focused attention. Valeria was soaked. She had a small, very sensitive clit that reacted to the slightest contact, and Clara quickly learned that if she pushed her tongue into the entrance and drew it out in slow circles, Valeria gripped the sheets with both hands and arched her hips against her mouth.

Rodrigo positioned himself behind Clara while she ate Valeria. He put his hands on her hips, spread her ass cheeks with his thumbs, and sank into her cunt in a single thrust. Clara cried out with her mouth against Valeria’s sex and the cry came out muffled, vibrating against her friend’s clit, which in turn let out a moan in response. The chain worked: every time Rodrigo drove in hard, Clara slammed her face against Valeria’s cunt, and Valeria writhed beneath her, grabbing her hair, pulling.

—Like that, fuck her while she eats me —Valeria panted—. Fuck her hard.

Rodrigo sped up. Clara felt her husband’s cock driving into her all the way to the bottom, hitting her cervix with every thrust, while her tongue kept working Valeria’s clit. When Valeria came, it was loud, pressing Clara’s head between her thighs and letting out a long moan that made the bed shake. Clara pulled her shiny tongue back, breathed, and let herself fall forward with her tits against Valeria’s belly while Rodrigo kept hammering her from behind.

There was also, at some point near three in the morning, a scene Clara knew she would remember for a long time: Valeria sitting on the edge of the bed, back straight, eyes closed, and Rodrigo standing in front of her with his cock in his best friend’s mouth. Clara was behind him, hands on his shoulders, watching Valeria suck him all the way down, letting it slide to the back of her throat with a skill Clara envied her for a second. Valeria drew the slick cock out, spat on the head, and swallowed it again while stroking her breasts with her other hand. Clara ran her tongue along her husband’s neck and bit his earlobe.

—Do you like the way she sucks you off?

—Fuck, yes.

—Cum in her mouth. I want to see it.

But Rodrigo held out. He pulled his cock from Valeria’s mouth, took her gently by the hair, and laid her on her back at the edge of the bed, with her ass almost hanging off and her legs open. He drove his cock into her all the way in one stroke and Valeria let out a howl of pure pleasure. Clara straddled Valeria’s face, offering her cunt again, and Valeria started eating her out hungrily while Rodrigo fucked her with slow, deep thrusts that made everything splash.

Clara and Rodrigo kissed over Valeria’s body, biting each other’s mouths, while Clara rubbed her clit against her friend’s tongue and Rodrigo sped up his thrusts. The three of them moved with a synchronization that took a moment to establish but, once found, didn’t disappear for quite a while.

—Are you really okay? —Valeria asked a while later, when the three of them were resting in silence, sweaty, skin sticking to the sheets.

—Really. —Clara looked her straight in the face.— I’ve spent two hours thinking we should have done this a lot sooner.

Valeria let out a short laugh that was half relief and half something Clara couldn’t fully classify.

—It took us a while to find the moment.

—A wedding seems like a good moment, yeah.

Rodrigo made a sound between exhaustion and laughter without opening his eyes.

—Can we keep going? Because I still haven’t come.

The two of them laughed. Clara rolled on top of him, straddled him, and impaled herself on his cock again in one sharp movement, with a guttural moan when she felt him all the way inside. She started riding him slowly, swaying her hips in circles, while Valeria pressed against her back and grabbed her tits from behind, pinching her nipples with fingers wet from saliva. Valeria’s tongue on her neck, Valeria’s fingers sliding down her belly until they found her clit and rubbed it while she fucked her husband, and Rodrigo’s hands gripping her ass and helping her bounce harder.

The orgasms came when they came, with no ceremony or embellishment. Clara’s was long and sustained, with Valeria’s fingers planted on her clit and Rodrigo’s cock buried to the hilt, shaking all over with her hair stuck to her face. Valeria’s came after, when she lay back down and Clara slid three fingers into her and sucked her clit at the same time until she arched her back and let out a clear spray that splattered the sheet. Rodrigo’s came last: with the two women kneeling in front of him, milking him with four hands and taking turns sucking him off, until he let out a roar and came in streams over both of their faces and breasts, thick semen that they spread around with their tongues amid laughs and filthy kisses before swallowing it.

—You don’t have to say anything.

—We weren’t going to say anything —Valeria replied, wiping the corner of her mouth with her thumb.

—Neither of us was —Clara confirmed.

***

At five-thirty, the bed was unmade and the cava was gone. The first gray light of dawn came in through the window, that moment before the city really starts moving. The three of them were lying in silence, each staring at the ceiling, their bodies still close but not touching, skin smelling of sweat and sex and the two women’s mixed perfume.

The wedding dress and the bottle-green dress were still tangled together on the floor, crumpled, as if they had been there for years.

—Can I sleep here? —Valeria asked in a voice that was already half asleep.

Clara looked at her. Then she looked at Rodrigo, who moved the arm off his eyes just enough to meet her gaze and make a shoulder shrug that meant several things at once.

—There’s room —Clara said.

Valeria didn’t answer because she was already asleep, or almost. Rodrigo turned off the bedside lamp. Clara stayed staring at the ceiling for a moment longer, listening to the two of them breathe, before closing her eyes too.

Outside, the city was starting to wake slowly, knowing nothing at all. Inside the suite, nobody was in any hurry to name what had happened or decide what it meant. There would be time for that. For now, it was enough that it had happened.