I Wanted to Be Like Her Since I Saw Her on Screen

My parents woke me at nine on the dot that Saturday. They had planned to go away for the weekend and, as had been customary for as long as I could remember, I would spend those days at my Uncle Ramiro’s house. I had just turned nineteen and was convinced I was old enough to stay alone in my own home, but they felt otherwise. The plan was always the same: leave, drop me off at my uncle’s apartment, and continue on to their secret destination.

I picked up my phone and reread the conversation I’d had with Adrián the night before. My ass was still sore from the rough way he had tried to shove it in me, and just remembering it made my stomach clench. We had spent hours making out in the back seat of his car, with my hand inside his pants, gripping that thick, hot cock he had placed against my palm without a word. I had jerked him off slowly, feeling him throb, feeling him drip at the tip, while he bit my neck and whispered that he was going to split me in two. Then he had pulled my shorts down to my knees, laid me face-down across the seat, and started rubbing the head against my entrance without lube, without haste, pushing harder and harder each time. I was so tight, so dry, that the tip could barely force me open; it burned, it stung, and still I spread my legs wider and begged him to keep going. He gave two hard thrusts, very hard, and on the second the head drove through my ring and I felt a white-hot pain shoot up to my ribs. I screamed. He stopped, pulled his cock out, and apologized, and I stayed there crying softly with my face buried in the seat, half-open, half-spent, with his semen dripping down my thighs because he had leaked while rubbing against me.

After we got home we kept talking for a long while. “I almost made it,” he had texted me. I replied that I wanted to feel him inside me and promised that, as soon as he came back, I’d give myself to him without reserve, that I’d let him fuck my ass as many times as he wanted and in whatever position he felt like.

—I love you —he told me when we said goodbye.

—I love you too —I answered, and turned off the screen with a sweet frustration in my chest.

We had been so close to making love. I reproached myself for not relaxing enough to let him in, for not pushing back to take him all the way. That same early morning, after talking to him, I had stripped naked and lain down on the bed. I turned on the nightstand lamp, took the bottle of lubricant I’d been hiding for months from the drawer, and poured a good amount onto my fingers until it ran down my wrist. I spread my legs, lifted my knees to my chest, and exposed myself to nobody, my ass raised and throbbing, searching for the angle with which Adrián would look at me when he finally had me open for him. I began massaging my hole slowly with the pad of my middle finger, making small circles around the ring and feeling it give. The first finger went in without trouble, slick, up to the knuckle. I pulled it out and shoved it back in, imagining it was Adrián’s cock giving me the first warning. Then the second, and I felt that hot stretch that made me bite my lip so I wouldn’t moan too loudly. I curved them forward, looking for the spot I had learned to find on my own, that little bump that made pre-cum leak from my own cock without needing to touch it. When I pressed it with my fingertip, my dick jerked hard against my belly and I let out a long gasp.

—Put it in me, Adrián, put it all in —I whispered into the pillow, moving my hips against my own hand.

After a while the third finger went in, and that one cost me. My ring burned, but it was a good burn, a burn I knew and had learned to crave. I had spent months preparing for that moment, because he had asked me to, and by then I already knew how much I could force myself before I broke.

—I want you to prepare yourself —he had told me one afternoon when we were talking about the start of our sex life—. I want to put my whole cock in you on the first night. I don’t want to leave you half-finished.

That day we were in a park. I was wearing a very thin cotton T-shirt and denim shorts so short they left my thighs almost completely on display. Adrián had already suggested before that, in our relationship, I would be “the woman,” but that afternoon was the first time he spoke plainly about putting his cock in me. We were sitting very close on a bench, our legs brushing, and I felt like a young girl her boyfriend was trying to convince to give herself up for the first time. People walked by and looked at us, and I fantasized that everyone could guess what was brewing between us.

—Do you want to feel me inside you? —he asked in a low voice.

—Yes… —I answered, lowering my gaze, burning with shame and desire in equal measure.

—Say it properly. Tell me what you want me to do to you.

—I want you to fuck me —I murmured, looking down at my knees—. I want you to fuck me.

—Where?

—In the ass. I want your cock in my ass.

He gave a soft laugh and squeezed my thigh under my shorts. I felt his hand slide upward, brush my groin, and beneath the fabric my erection bulged so clearly I couldn’t hide it. Adrián looked at my crotch without the slightest shame, pleased, and kept talking in my ear.

—I’m going to put it in so deep you’ll feel it in your throat. I’m going to fuck you until you’re drooling. I want you ready, your ass open waiting for me, so I can bury it to the balls without cutting you.

—Yes… —was all I could answer, my mouth dry.

I masturbated while remembering that afternoon. I penetrated myself with the fingers of one hand while with the other I gave myself a slow handjob, squeezing my glans each time I came up, twisting my wrist at the tip the way I liked. “We were so close,” I repeated to myself. “Tonight I could have had his whole cock inside me, getting myself off like a slut.” I pumped the three fingers hard, in and out to the knuckle, imitating the rhythm with which I dreamed he would fuck me. I could hear the obscene slapping of lubricant in the silent room. I imagined myself on all fours on the bed, Adrián behind me, gripping my hips, burying it in me to the balls while he called me a bitch in my ear. I imagined his balls slapping my perineum, the smell of sweat, the hot load shooting inside me, dripping down my thighs when he pulled out. A few minutes later I came in an orgasm that arched my back and made me tremble from the tips of my toes. I shot over my own stomach, a long spurt that reached my chest, and I lay on the bed with my fingers still buried to the hilt, empty and satisfied, feeling my asshole contracting around them until sleep overcame me.

***

An hour after my parents woke me we were ready to leave. In that time I had showered carefully, even slipping a finger back under the stream of hot water to make sure I was clean inside, packed a backpack with a change of clothes, and eaten a light breakfast: coffee and toast with jam. My mother looked gorgeous. She wore a green floral dress with a neckline that fell about four inches above the knee. I felt jealous. I wanted to walk down the street dressed like that, and I promised myself I would ask to borrow that dress one day. I wondered what Adrián would say if he saw me in it, whether he’d hike it up to my waist and fuck me against the wall without taking it off.

Since I was a child, the whole family had repeated that I was identical to my mother. As a kid I didn’t care; I knew whose son I was and that was that. But over the years I started to feel proud of looking like her. My mother has always been a very attractive woman, and maybe that explained why men had started approaching me with romantic intentions from a very young age. For a moment I wondered, uncomfortably, whether Adrián was actually in love with her, and whether that was the reason he had made me his partner.

My uncle Ramiro’s apartment was on the other side of the city, and after an hour on the road we arrived. I grabbed my backpack and got out of the car. We greeted my uncle and then I said goodbye to my parents. As I leaned toward the front passenger window I couldn’t help looking again at my mother’s legs; her thighs looked beautiful under the hem of the dress. Have fun, I thought with a mischievous smile. After thanking Ramiro for looking after me, my parents set off again and the two of us were left alone.

When we went inside, my uncle asked if I wanted to do anything that afternoon. I told him anything was fine. My mind was somewhere else, going over the previous night again and again. What I really would have liked was to take off my pants and spend the whole afternoon in bed, my fingers buried in my ass, the other hand on my cock, imagining Adrián unloading inside me. But since that wasn’t an option, I didn’t care what we did.

—Come on, let’s get you settled in —he said.

We headed to the guest room. The apartment was small but elegant: besides the living room, it had a kitchen, a bathroom, and two bedrooms, his and the guest room, which would be my lair those days.

—This needs to air out —he remarked, opening the window wide—. I’ve got some work matters to close up, but I’ll be done in a couple of hours. How about we go to the movies afterward?

—Sounds good —I replied, pretending enthusiasm.

—All right. Well, welcome, make yourself at home.

—Thanks!

Go to the movies? Apparently my uncle still thought I was ten years old. My parents made that mysterious trip every two or three years, and they always left me with Ramiro. He tried, poor thing, but his idea of entertaining me usually came down to a movie and a handful of candies. I lay down on the bed and closed my eyes. There’s so, so long to go before I can go home. I wondered what Adrián was doing. Was he touching his cock thinking of me, imagining me on my knees, mouth open? There was no point speculating; better to ask him. I texted: “Are you thinking about me?” Ten minutes went by without a reply. I threw the phone on the bed, closed my eyes again, and this time I really fell asleep.

—Wake up, didn’t you want to go to the movies? —I heard.

I sat up. Several hours had passed and my uncle had already finished his errands.

—Yes, of course. What are we watching?

When we got to the theater we checked the listings. Ramiro asked if I was ready to watch movies that weren’t for children anymore.

—Of course, I’m not a kid anymore —I replied with pride.

—All right. There’s one I’ve been wanting to see for a while because…

My uncle explained what it was about, but I wasn’t paying attention; I was on autopilot. The only thing I wanted was to get back to my life, and I didn’t care about the plot of his movie. Still, I answered cheerfully.

—Yes, let’s watch it!

***

We bought a big bucket of popcorn and two sodas and went into the theater. The film was a kind of espionage thriller. A detective was investigating a corruption case and had to face the lies of a handful of bought-and-paid-for officials. I would have been bored from the first minute if it hadn’t been for one detail: the actor playing the detective looked a lot like my future boyfriend. He was almost Adrián.

Detective Lenoir was tall, strong, and masculine, wore several days’ worth of stubble, and had eyes such a deep blue I fell in love with him instantly. Black hair, white skin, broad shoulders: just like my friend. And if his looks hadn’t been enough to grab my attention, the sex scene sealed it completely. It happened near the end, and it starred the detective and one of the villain’s secretaries: the beautiful Vera.

In her first appearance, Vera wore a dress so low-cut it looked as if her tits might slip out at any moment. What a slut, I thought when I saw her, and made a mental note: “I have to buy a dress like that.” In every scene, Vera strutted across the screen showing off an athletic, dazzling body. Her skirts were always short, tight; her heels, sky-high. “I’m going to be like her,” I told myself every time she appeared.

When Vera and Lenoir finally gave in to each other, she wore a skirt so short that she had no trouble at all spreading her legs and straddling the handsome detective. The camera took her from behind, and you could see her stockings up to the edge of the garter belt. Lenoir ripped her panties off in one yank and threw them to the floor; Vera threw her head back, mouth open, when he speared her in with a single thrust, and her moan, long and broken, echoed through the movie theater and went straight through me. I pressed my thighs together in the seat. I imagined it was me on top of him, the one lowering herself slowly until she took him all the way in, feeling that thick cock open me from the inside centimeter by centimeter. The scene wasn’t pornographic, but it came very close to showing everything. The camera focused on the detective’s hands gripping her ass, squeezing it, guiding the motion; it focused on Vera’s mouth biting her lip, the sweat on her cleavage, a nipple slipping free from the dress that she didn’t bother to cover. It was intense, charged. Vera was in love with him. She had met him when the detective began investigating her corrupt boss; she had switched sides to help him get the information he needed, and she had seen him confront the villains with his fists and with guns. How could she not fall in love with a man like that? Vera gave herself to him with passion, and her face showed everything she felt. The camera made it clear, without ever saying it outright, that the detective had a formidable cock, and that Vera was enjoying every inch.

By the end, Vera barely had time to pull her skirt down when the final shootout erupted. Lenoir protected his woman, killed the bad guys, and they walked out of the crime scene hand in hand. The police chief asked if there was something between them, and the detective answered that they were working on it. Vera just smiled and tucked her hair back, looking down at her feet. Then the credits rolled.

I sat frozen in the seat, stunned, my cock hard enough to tent my pants and my ass clenched against the chair. I couldn’t believe what I had just seen. The movie I hadn’t cared about in the slightest had left me speechless. When I finally managed to turn toward my uncle, I discovered he was the same as me: eyes fixed on the screen, looking embarrassed.

—I’m sorry, I had no idea it had a scene like that —he said when he finally found his voice.

—Don’t worry —I answered—. I’m not a child anymore.

We both laughed.

—Did you like it?

—A lot! —I replied honestly, though I hid the real reasons for my excitement.

—It’s a movie I’ve wanted to see for a long time because…

My uncle kept explaining technical and artistic aspects of the film while we walked out. I nodded along to everything, but, as was becoming customary, my mind was elsewhere. I couldn’t stop thinking about Adrián and the moment he would finally fuck me. I thought about Lenoir too, but mostly I thought about Vera. I identified with her. I tried to memorize every detail of the character so I could copy it when my turn came. I wanted to dress like her. I wanted to give myself in private exactly the way she did on screen, ride a man like that, let myself be split in two in front of a camera.

I was excited but, above all, I was horny. I wanted to be with Adrián, I wanted to be his girlfriend, I wanted to feel his cock inside me. The idea throbbed between my legs all the way home, and I pressed my thighs together in the car seat to contain the tingling that climbed my perineum and made my hole wet just from imagining it.

***

We had a simple dinner at the apartment and the conversation drifted, I’m not quite sure how, toward the movie. Ramiro kept insisting how well shot it was, but I could tell he was avoiding mentioning Vera’s scene, as if it embarrassed him. And every time he brushed against it by accident, I felt heat rise up my neck.

—You’ve been very quiet —he told me halfway through dinner, watching me with a new kind of attention—. You look so much like your mother that sometimes I can hardly believe it.

He said it softly, almost to himself, and something in his tone made me look up. He was looking at me differently. Not the way you look at a nephew, but the way Lenoir looked at Vera on the screen, the way you look at a female you’re already undressing in your mind. I lowered my eyes to my plate, my heart racing, and felt my cock harden again under the table. He’s looking at me like I’m her. He’s looking at me the way you look at a slut you want to fuck.

—Everybody says that —I murmured.

—Then everybody’s right.

The silence that followed was unlike any silence we had ever shared before. Dense, electric. I was still thinking about Adrián, about the promise I’d made him, but the body doesn’t understand promises. The body only knew that I had spent months preparing for a man to open my ass for the first time, and that that night there was a man in front of me looking at me like no one ever had, with that mix of desire and determination that says without saying, “I’m going to put it in you.”

I got up to take the plates to the kitchen, more to escape that gaze than anything else. Ramiro followed me. When I set the dishes in the sink and turned around, he was an inch away from me. He smelled of cologne and something warm, masculine. I leaned against the counter without meaning to, and he didn’t step back. I glanced down for a second and saw the bulge marked beneath his pants, thick, swollen, pulling the fabric to one side. My mouth went dry.

—If you want, I can go to sleep —I said, and my voice came out thinner than I intended, almost Vera’s voice.

—Is that what you want? —he asked. And the question was the same one Adrián had asked me in the park, word for word, as if the universe were taking the piss out of me.

I didn’t answer. Or maybe I did: I answered without speaking, letting my body lean a few inches toward his, just enough for the distance to vanish and for his erection to brush my hip through our clothes. I felt the bulge pressed against me, hard, looking for a place, and a gasp escaped me that I couldn’t swallow. His hand slowly slid up my waist, over my T-shirt, and then slipped underneath, against my skin, climbing until it found a nipple, which he pinched between two fingers, not roughly, with the certainty of someone who knows exactly what he’s doing. I closed my eyes and imagined myself in the low-cut dress, the high heels, the short skirt, my panties already torn off. I imagined being her. I imagined reaching down and pulling his cock out of his pants right there, in the kitchen, gripping it the way I had gripped Adrián’s, spitting on the head so he could slide it in more easily.

—You’re just as beautiful as your mother —he whispered against my ear, and his other hand came down to squeeze one of my ass cheeks over my pants, kneading me as if I were already his.

And I, who had spent months preparing to give myself to Adrián, knew in that instant that he would not be the one to teach me. It’s only two days, he had told me that morning. He hadn’t imagined I would lose my virginity that same night, or that the man walking beside me talking so cheerfully about cinema would be the first to penetrate me. But there he was, his breath on my neck and his hand sliding slowly under my clothes, and I stopped thinking about promises and began, at last, to be the woman I had imagined so many times.