What I Learned on a Thursday at My Friend’s Place

I always thought sex was something people exaggerated way too much. I married Julián at 27 after a relationship with no great emotions, and our sex life was exactly that: a routine without surprises. Saturday nights, ten minutes at most, always the same position, with the lights off. He would climb on top, shove his dick in, pump for a while, come inside me, and get off without looking at me. I would fake a low moan at some point so it would end faster, and the two of us would fall asleep without saying a word.

I never questioned it. I imagined pleasure was something that happened to other kinds of people, not me. That I was one of those who didn’t feel those things. I accepted it the way you accept your own temperament: without arguing with it.

What happened with Natalia started changing all that, although at first I didn’t see it.

I met her at the gym on a Monday in February. She arrived late to Pilates class, placed her mat next to mine, and asked me in a low voice whether the instructor was as demanding as people said. She had shoulder-length dark brown hair, honey-colored eyes, and the self-assurance of someone who has never doubted herself. Thirty-five years old, freelance yoga instructor, divorced, no children, and with a life that sounded like something I had never allowed myself to imagine.

I liked her immediately.

We became friends with a speed that surprised me more than anyone. First coffee after class, then dinners at my place, then one afternoon she showed up with a bottle of Malbec and the promise that we’d talk late into the night. With Natalia I could talk about everything: work, family, the things I didn’t tell anyone. There was something about her that switched off filters.

It was on one of those nights that we touched on the subject that changed everything.

It was eleven o’clock and we had almost finished two bottles. The subject of sex came up the way it always does when wine lowers your defenses: all at once, with no anesthetic. Natalia told me about a lover she had in another city, someone she saw when she traveled for work. She described him in such detail—how he fucked her against the hotel window, how he came in her mouth, how he shoved two fingers up her ass while he went down on her—that I felt slightly removed from all of it, like someone reading about a trip to a country they’ve never visited.

“For me sex is something completely normal,” I said when she finished. “I don’t understand why people get so obsessed.”

Natalia set her glass on the table and looked at me.

“What do you mean by ‘completely normal’?”

“That it doesn’t seem like a big deal to me. Ten minutes and that’s it. He comes, I fake it, done.”

Her eyes widened.

“And you’ve never masturbated?”

“No. Never saw the need,” I said, not making a fuss about it.

“You’ve never touched your pussy? Never put a finger in, even just out of curiosity?”

“Never.”

The silence that followed lasted about five seconds. Then Natalia burst out laughing. It was the laugh of someone who has just heard something unbelievable, but without cruelty, without mockery.

“Valeria. Are you serious?”

“Completely.”

“My God.” She ran a hand through her hair. “That can be fixed. Tonight.”

I laughed too, without really understanding what she meant. Then she moved closer on the sofa, brushed the hair away from my neck, and told me to close my eyes. To trust her. That if I wanted her to stop, I should say so and she would stop.

I should have stood up. I should have said I was tired and called a taxi. Instead, I closed my eyes.

I felt her hands on my shoulders first, massaging slowly. Then on my arms. Then at the edge of my blouse.

“Okay?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said. And it was true.

She took my blouse off carefully. The apartment was quiet, with only the soft music from Natalia’s phone in the background. She undid the clasp of my bra and let it fall. My breasts were exposed, my nipples already stiff before she even touched them, betraying me.

“Look at that,” she murmured. “Your body already knows what it wants, even if you don’t yet.”

“Don’t think,” she said. “Just feel. If you want me to stop, say it.”

Her hands moved over my back, then around to the front. She held my tits with firm warmth, kneading them with a patience that made me let out the air in a low moan. She caught my nipples between thumb and forefinger and squeezed them slowly, first gently, then harder, and I felt a current run straight down to my pussy. It was as if there were a wire between the tips of my tits and my clit that no one had ever turned on before.

“Think of someone you like,” Natalia said softly, without stopping her pinching. “It doesn’t have to be real. A fantasy. Whoever comes to mind first.”

Rodrigo. The instructor. In his forties, almost six feet tall, with that way of walking that made all the women at the gym follow him with their eyes without meaning to. I thought about the bulge in his sweatpants. I thought about what it would feel like to have that cock inside me.

I didn’t say it out loud. But I thought it clearly. And something changed in my body at that exact moment: I felt a heavy, liquid tug between my legs, and I knew without looking that my panties were soaked through.

Natalia’s thumbs brushed my nipples again and I let out a sound I had never made before. Small, involuntary, almost a whimper. She smiled without my being able to see it.

“There it is,” she whispered. “There you are.”

She moved one hand slowly down my stomach, drawing lazy circles over my skin, until she slipped her fingers under the waistband of my leggings. She stopped right above my pubic mound.

“Keep going?”

I nodded without opening my eyes. I couldn’t speak.

When she touched my clit for the first time, my whole body went taut. It was an electric sensation, precise, completely new. Nothing like the ten-minute Saturdays. Nothing like anything I had ever felt before. Her finger traced slow, exact circles over the swollen hood, and I opened my mouth hunting for air as heat rose from my groin to my face.

“You’re dripping,” she said in my ear. “Look how you’re soaking my hand and I haven’t even done anything yet.”

“Relax,” she said after. “Don’t push it away. Let it happen.”

She pulled my leggings down to my ankles and then my panties. She leaned in just enough to see better and spread my thighs with her other hand, opening me all the way. I was embarrassed to think of how my pussy looked from her angle—the swollen lips, shiny, parted like a split-open fruit—but she let out a low sound of approval that cut the embarrassment in half.

“What a beautiful pussy you have, Valeria. What a waste.”

She kept circling my clit, firmer now, more precise, brushing the exact spot that made my hips arch against her hand. Then she slid her middle finger downward, pushed it between my wet folds and slipped it in slowly, to the first knuckle. I moaned without being able to stop myself.

“Look at you. Sucking my finger from the inside.” She pulled it out, glossy, and held it up to the light so I could see it. “You’re soaking.”

She pushed it back in, this time all the way. She twisted her wrist to curve the finger forward and scratched something inside me that ripped a loud, uncontrollable moan from my throat.

“There,” she said, smiling. “There it is.”

I don’t know how many minutes passed. Time lost its meaning. There were only her fingers, the pressure building at the base of my belly, the frantic pulse between my legs, and that unbearable sensation of opening up from the inside. She added another finger, penetrated me deeper, and started fucking my hand with a dirty rhythm, slow at first, then more insistent, pulling her fingers nearly out to the tip and driving them back in to the root, while with her thumb she kept rubbing my clit above. I panted uncontrollably, squeezing my thighs around her wrist, smearing my fluids over her hand, hearing the obscene wet noise my pussy made every time she pushed inside.

“That’s it, Valeria,” she murmured. “Ride my fingers. Like that, move your hips. That’s how you have to come.”

“I can’t, I can’t...” I said, not even knowing what I was saying.

“Yes, you can. You’ve spent thirty-two years waiting to come. Don’t hold back.”

She sped up the motion of her wrist, hammering that inner spot with the curve of her fingers while her thumb mashed my clit in fast circles. The pressure in my belly became unbearable. It felt like something broke inside.

And then it came. It hit me full force, like a jolt that left my back rigid and my legs shaking around her hand. I let out a long, hoarse, guttural moan, not recognizing my own voice. My pussy clenched around her fingers in deep spasms, soaking her whole hand, and my hips bucked on their own against her wrist, begging for more. Another wave shot through me from top to bottom, then another, until I was left limp, gasping, breath broken and a thread of fluid running down my thigh.

I came for the first time in thirty-two years of life.

When I stopped trembling, Natalia slowly pulled her fingers out. She looked at them gleaming in the lamp light, brought them to her mouth, and licked them one by one, watching me in the eyes.

“Mmm. You taste good.”

Then she took my hand.

“Now you,” she said.

She guided me. My own hand, my own fingers, led by hers to the pussy that was still throbbing. It was strange at first, clumsy, like learning something in a new language. Feeling my own swollen, slippery lips, my own clit hard as a pea beneath my fingertip. But she corrected me patiently: softer, circles, no friction, feel the rhythm.

“Put two in. That’s it. No fear. It’s your pussy, get to know it.”

And it worked again, slower, but it worked just the same. She made me touch myself without shame, part my lips with one hand while I masturbated with the other, find the exact spot of my clit and listen to my body asking for more, faster, deeper. I fucked myself with my fingers slowly under her gaze until the second orgasm left me with my head thrown back and my throat trembling, once again soaking the sofa.

Natalia bit her lip.

“Now it’s your turn to teach me,” she said.

She took her clothes off without hurry. Long, firm body, small tits with dark nipples, brown skin, a shaved pussy with a short triangle of hair at the edge. She sat across from me on the sofa and spread her legs wide. I watched her lips gleam, already swollen, already begging.

“Touch me the way I touched you,” she said.

I should have refused. But curiosity was bigger than anything else I could name.

I started with her tits, carefully. I took her dark nipples between my fingers and pinched them the way she had done to mine. Natalia closed her eyes and let the air out through her teeth. I lowered my head and sucked one, feeling the tip harden on my tongue, and heard her groan low. I was surprised by how much I liked the taste of her skin, how natural it felt to have her in my mouth.

I slowly brought my hand down to her pussy. Her clit was already swollen, peeking out from the hood. I rubbed it in the same circles she had taught me, first with the tip of one finger, then with two, looking for the right pressure while she opened her legs wider and guided me with breathing that grew faster and faster.

“Yes. Exactly. Now two fingers inside. Slowly.”

I did it. She was hot, soaked, much wetter than I expected. I parted her lips with my fingers and penetrated her slowly, feeling her open around me, feeling her cunt clench and release in time with my hand. Natalia let out a soft moan and moved toward my hand, pushing her hips to take more, so I wouldn’t stop.

“Deeper. Curve them up. There. There, fuck.”

I found the spot. It felt different from the rest, rougher, spongier. I rubbed it with my fingertips while I kept circling her clit with my thumb, copying exactly what she had done to me. Natalia threw her head back and started riding my hand.

“Like that, like that...” she murmured. “Don’t stop, don’t stop now.”

I kept going until her body tightened. Then she trembled from top to bottom, her pelvis clenching against my fingers, her breathing broken and a choked moan slipping out from between her teeth. When she came, it was in a slow, deep contraction, her pussy clenching around my hand in little rhythmic spasms I could feel pulsing against my fingers. She soaked my whole palm.

I slowly pulled my fingers out. They were shining. Without thinking, I brought them to my mouth.

“Look at the student,” Natalia said, laughing breathlessly. “Learns fast.”

Then she kissed me. A short, soft kiss, with the taste of her still on my tongue.

“Welcome,” she said.

***

The weeks that followed changed my relationship with my own body in a way I didn’t know how to describe. I started masturbating every morning before Julián woke up, in the bathroom, with the shower running to cover my moans. I learned what I liked, what I didn’t, the exact speed I needed. I bought a vibrator and hid it at the back of the sock drawer. I discovered that pleasure was not something that happened to other kinds of people.

It happened to me too. It had always been there, waiting for someone to take the time to show me.

Natalia and I kept seeing each other every week. Things between us were different now: there was a new complicity, hard to name but easy to recognize in the way we looked at each other when no one was paying attention. More than once we ended up in her bed or mine, eating each other’s pussy until we were left undone.

It was on a Thursday over coffee when she said, bluntly:

“I wrote to Rodrigo.”

I looked up from my cup.

“Rodrigo the instructor?”

“The same.” She paused. “I fucked him once a while back. He’s big and he knows how to use it, believe me. I told him I had a friend who wanted to get to know him better. I asked whether he’d be up for an afternoon with both of us.”

My heart gave a strange leap. Not alarm. Something I didn’t want to admit. I felt my pussy wet right there, in the café.

“And what did he say?”

“That if it was true you existed, it sounded too good to believe. But yes.” Natalia took her coffee without taking her eyes off me. “Next Thursday. At my apartment. If you want.”

I spent the rest of the week telling myself I wasn’t going to go. I masturbated every night thinking about him. About him and her. About both hands at once.

On Thursday I arrived at eight sharp.

Natalia opened the door with a glass of wine in her hand and that smile of hers that always said more than her words did.

“I knew you’d come,” she said.

I went in. The apartment had low music and the soft light of the floor lamps. On the sofa where she had taught me everything I knew, Rodrigo was sitting with his elbows on his knees and a glass in his hand. The same man I saw at the gym three times a week and to whom I had never said anything more than “good morning” and “see you later.”

He looked me up and down without hiding it. I saw his eyes stop at my tits, at my hips, at the short skirt I had put on knowing perfectly well what I was doing.

“Natalia told me you were serious,” he said. “But here you are.”

“My name is Valeria,” I said.

“I know.” He smiled. “I’m very glad you came.”

Natalia put the glass in my hand. The three of us talked for a while, with that specific tension of when everyone knows what’s going to happen but no one wants to be the first to say it. Rodrigo was exactly like he seemed at the gym: direct, calm, funny. That made everything easier. While he talked, my eyes kept dropping on their own to the bulge already visible beneath his pants.

He stood up from the sofa and came over. He knelt in front of me, took my face in his hands.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” he said.

“I know exactly what I want,” I answered.

I surprised myself when I said it.

He kissed me. It was a kiss unlike any I knew: long, direct, unshy, his tongue entering my mouth with the same confidence with which his hand settled at the back of my neck. Natalia came up behind me and took off my jacket while he kept kissing me. Their hands were sure, warm. The two of them moved with the calm of people who aren’t in a hurry.

They took my blouse off between them. They took my bra off. Rodrigo lowered his mouth down my neck and then further, and let out a deep sound when he reached my tits, sucking first one nipple and then the other, biting just a little, licking hungrily while Natalia unbuttoned my skirt from behind and let it fall to the floor.

“Natalia wasn’t exaggerating,” he said with my breast full in his mouth. “What tits you have, fuck.”

I felt heat in my cheeks and somewhere else too. My panties were already dripping.

Natalia was kissing my neck from behind while he sucked my nipple. Her hands came around to the front and held my tits for him, offering me up as if I were a gift between the two of them. I had my hands in both of their hair, not knowing where to direct my attention, not wanting either of them to stop. Rodrigo guided me carefully to the sofa and made me spread my legs while Natalia knelt behind me against the backrest, holding my head against her small tits.

At some point my knees gave out and the three of us ended up on the sofa.

Rodrigo tore my panties off with his teeth, slowly, looking at me from below. When he saw my pussy open and soaked for him, he let out a low growl.

“Look at you. You’re dripping before I’ve even touched you.”

“Eat her out, Rodri,” Natalia said over my shoulder. “Make her come in your mouth.”

He lowered his head and I stopped thinking. His tongue found my clit with firm, obscene pressure, flat and hot, and ripped a moan from me that made me grab the back of the sofa. He licked from bottom to top with his whole tongue, gathering my juices up to my clit, and stayed there, sucking, playing with the tip, trapping it between his lips and letting it go. Then he shoved two fingers in and kept licking, pumping them in and out with a deep, wet rhythm while I writhed against his mouth, while Natalia pinched my nipples and licked my ear telling me dirty things.

“That’s it. Ride his face. Rub your pussy in his mouth.”

The first time a man did that to me, it took less than three minutes for me to come. I grabbed his head with both hands and came against his tongue with a shout I didn’t try to hold back, feeling his fingers keep sliding in and out while I soaked his chin. Rodrigo took it as a personal compliment and didn’t move away. He kept sucking my oversensitive clit, mercilessly, until I came a second time, trembling, with my hands clamped in his hair and my legs spread wide, begging him to stop and not to stop at the same time.

Natalia positioned herself over me then. She straddled my face, her shaved pussy just inches from my mouth, and grabbed my hair.

“Your turn. Eat me the way I taught you.”

Her taste was familiar now, reassuring in a strange way. I stuck out my tongue and licked her from bottom to top, parting her lips, finding her swollen clit and sucking it with everything I had learned. It felt natural in a way I had long since stopped questioning. I put two fingers in her while I sucked her clit, fucking her pussy with my hand at the rhythm I knew she needed, feeling her soaked, ready, already trembling over my face.

Rodrigo sat up between my legs. At some point he had taken his clothes off. I saw his cock for the first time: thick, hard, long, throbbing against his stomach with a shiny drop at the tip. He put on a condom and positioned himself.

“I’m going in slow,” he said. “Tell me if it’s too much.”

He pressed the tip to my wet entrance and pushed. I closed my eyes. I felt him opening me, felt my pussy give centimeter by centimeter until he was all the way inside me, filling me in a way I had never felt before. I moaned against Natalia’s cunt and heard her moan too, because the vibration went through her.

It was nothing like the ten-minute Saturdays with Julián. It was slow at first, deep, with pauses that were almost worse than the movement itself. Rodrigo knew exactly what he was doing. He pulled back to the tip and then drove all the way in again in one stroke, to the hilt, hitting something inside me that made me see sparks. He found angles I didn’t know existed. He grabbed my hips with both hands and started moving for real, driving into me with a firmness that made our skin slap together every time he hit me, while Natalia rode my mouth and pushed my face against her pussy.

“Harder,” she begged. “Fuck her harder. Look how everything’s trembling.”

Rodrigo sped up. Every thrust shook me through and through. I licked Natalia like a woman possessed, shoved my tongue deep inside her, sucked her clit until I felt her close around my fingers and come over my mouth with a long tremor that left her undone. She soaked my face.

She got off me just in time to watch it. Rodrigo had my legs lifted against his chest, pounding into me at a brutal rhythm, his cock going in and out glossy from my pussy, hitting that exact spot on every stroke.

“Come for him,” Natalia said in my ear, licking my wet cheek. “Come on his cock. Don’t hold anything back.”

I came with the three of us at maximum tension, Natalia’s hands on my tits pinching my nipples and Rodrigo’s voice growling something obscene in my ear while he drove into me to the hilt. I came trembling, screaming, my pussy clenching in deep spasms around his cock, drenching his thighs. I felt him go rigid seconds later, gripping my hips hard, burying himself all the way in and staying still while he emptied himself into the condom with a long groan, panting against my neck.

The three of us lay on the sofa for a long while without saying anything, our bodies sticky, the air heavy with sweat and sex. The music kept playing. Outside, the city went on making its usual noises, oblivious to everything that had just happened in that apartment.

Natalia was the first to speak.

“What do you think of sex now?”

I burst out laughing. Rodrigo did too.

“I think I’ve been wasting my time,” I said.

She leaned against my shoulder.

“You got to the game a little late, but you got here.”

Thursdays stopped being ordinary days. Julián still never noticed a thing, still climbed on top of me on Saturdays for ten minutes without realizing that his wife was getting better fucked than she had ever been in her life in another bed. I kept going to the gym three times a week, looking at Rodrigo from the Pilates mat and thinking about what was coming. Natalia would greet me from the other side of the mirror with that smile of hers that I could now read perfectly.

I didn’t regret a single day.