My Friend’s Boyfriend Discovered What I Was Hiding

My name is Daniela, though almost nobody knows me by that name. I’m twenty-seven, I live alone in a small apartment on the outskirts of Guadalajara, and I’m what some people call a closet girl: on the outside, just an ordinary guy; on the inside, something very different. I’m short, with brown skin, and with legs and hips more curvy than men’s clothes ever let on. And I have one weakness I’ve never quite managed to hide: mature men drive me crazy.

What I’m about to tell you happened on a Saturday night a few months ago. I remember it all, without missing a detail.

That afternoon Roxana, a coworker I sometimes went out for drinks with, texted me. She wanted to come by my place, have a few beers, and chat. We agreed on the time and everything, but before hanging up she dropped something that changed my mood: she was coming with her boyfriend.

—You don’t mind, right? —she asked—. It’s just that he really wanted to meet you.

—Not at all —I replied, pretending it didn’t matter.

The truth is it did matter to me, though not for the reason she thought. Roxana knows nothing about my feminine side. To her I’m a discreet friend, quiet, a little shy. I’ve never told her what I do when I shut the door and’m alone with the mirror.

While I waited, I got myself ready as best I could. I couldn’t transform completely, obviously, so I dressed like a guy on top: jeans, a loose T-shirt. But underneath I put on a red thong that barely covered my cock and a pair of fishnet stockings that squeezed my thighs, just to feel a little more like a girl for the night. It was my secret under the fabric, something that made my ass tingle every time I moved.

Nobody has to know, I thought. This is just for me.

There was a knock at the door around nine. I opened it and there was Roxana, smiling, and behind her a man who left me speechless for a full second.

His name was Esteban. He had to be around fifty, tall, broad-shouldered, with graying hair and a very well-groomed short beard. You could tell he spent hours at the gym: his shirt clung to his arms and chest. He shook my hand firmly, looked me in the eye, and smiled as if he already knew something about me.

—So you’re the famous Daniela —he said.

—That’s me —I answered, swallowing hard.

I forced myself not to stare at him too much. I didn’t want Roxana to notice anything strange, or for him to think the things that, in fact, were exactly what I was thinking.

***

We sat down in the living room. I’d bought a couple of six-packs and we started on the first round. The conversation flowed easily: Roxana’s job, a series we’d all watched, gossip about people they knew and I didn’t. Esteban spoke little, but when he did, he had that deep voice that sinks right into your chest.

Every so often I felt him looking at me. Not straight on, but from the corner of his eye, slowly taking me in. I kept crossing and uncrossing my legs, nervous, and every movement reminded me of the thong fabric wedged between my ass cheeks and the mesh of the stockings rubbing my skin. I could feel my cock pressed against the red cotton, starting to swell every time he dropped his gaze to my thighs.

The beers piled up, one after another, for a good while. Roxana was the one drinking the most, and it showed. She talked louder, laughed at everything, leaned against Esteban’s shoulder. Until at some point sleep finally got the better of her.

—Dani, do you mind if I lie down for a bit? —she asked, dragging out the words—. I’m dizzy.

—Of course not. Go into my room, lie down.

I walked her to the bed, brought her a glass of water, and closed the door slowly. When I went back to the living room, I realized we were alone: Esteban and me, the silence of the early morning, and a tension you could cut with your hand.

I was already hot, I’m not going to lie. The mere idea of being alone with that man had me on the edge, with the tip of my cock dampening the thong. I couldn’t figure out how to tell him what I felt without ruining everything.

Then he got up and went to the bathroom.

It was an impulse. As soon as I heard the water running, I pulled my jeans down a little at the hips and lifted my T-shirt, leaving the red edge of the thong visible over my brown skin. I adjusted the cushion, lay on my side, and waited, my heart pounding in my throat.

When Esteban came out, his eyes went straight to my waist. I saw it. I saw him pause half a second longer than normal before sitting back down.

—Hey —he said slowly—. Did I see that right, or was it my imagination?

I played innocent.

—What do you mean?

—You’re wearing a woman’s thong.

My heart stopped. For an instant, fear outweighed desire. But I was so turned on that I ended up letting it all out.

—Yeah, it’s a girl’s thong —I said, holding his gaze—. Is there a problem?

Esteban scooted a little closer on the couch. He didn’t look surprised. He looked pleased.

—On the contrary —he replied—. I’m fascinated by girls like you. The thing is Roxana has no idea, does she?

—No, and she’s not going to know. Your secret’s safe with me —I answered—. I just hope you keep mine.

He gave a crooked smile, with a confidence that made me tremble.

—Of course I’m going to keep it —he said, lowering his voice—. As long as you let me do what I’ve wanted to do to you since you opened the door.

My God. I love being spoken to like that. Having a mature man tell me exactly what he wants, no beating around the bush, melts me completely.

—Well, here I am —I murmured—. Do whatever you want with me.

***

He stood up from the chair without rushing, like a man with all the time in the world. He stood in front of me, took my chin, and forced me to look up at him. His hands were big, warm, rough.

—On your knees, little slut —he said.

I obeyed instantly. I slid down from the couch onto the floor and ended up in front of him, watching as he slowly unbuckled his belt, savoring my impatience. When he pulled his pants down along with his boxer briefs, I held my breath. His cock hung heavy in front of my face, thick, dark at the tip, still only half-hard and already bigger than any I’d had before. The smell of a clean man, gym sweat, and soap hit me all at once and my mouth flooded with saliva.

—Stick out your tongue —he ordered, gripping his cock at the base and tapping my lips with it—. Show me how well you suck it.

I stuck out my tongue like he asked and he painted my lips and chin with the tip, rubbing it all over my face. I felt it grow against my cheek, swell more, a thick vein standing out that I started licking from bottom to top, from the balls to the head, slowly, taking my time.

—Slowly —he warned me, burying his fingers in my hair—. Let me enjoy it.

I kissed his balls one by one, sucked them fully into my mouth while I held his cock in my hand and jerked him off slowly. He let out a growl and threw his head back. Then I went back up, circled the tip with my lips, and took it halfway into my mouth in one thrust. My mouth filled with a dense, salty taste, the pre-cum already running from him.

—Just like that —he said through his teeth—. Suck that cock, little slut, you do it better than I expected.

His words turned me on more than any caress. I sucked his cock hungrily, taking it deeper and deeper, until it bumped against my throat and brought tears to my eyes. He grabbed the back of my neck and started moving my head to his rhythm, fucking my mouth slowly at first, then faster. I let him, lips stretched around his cock, saliva dripping down my chin, looking up at him from below.

—Look at me —he ordered—. Don’t close your eyes, filthy girl. I want to see your face while you swallow it.

I stared straight at him, never taking him out of my mouth, while he moved his hips and shoved it all the way in. His beard got wet with my saliva when I bent down to kiss his balls between thrusts. With one hand I held the base and with the other I squeezed one of my tits under my T-shirt, twisting the nipple, already hard as a rock. Under the thong my cock pressed against the fabric, soaked, leaving a dark stain.

Knowing I was doing that to him, that a fifty-year-old man was letting a closeted faggot in fishnets suck him off, made me feel powerful, desired, completely slutty and completely woman all at once.

Suddenly he grabbed my arms and yanked me up.

—The couch —he ordered—. Turn around and stick that ass out for me.

I pulled my jeans all the way down, leaving only the thong and the fishnet stockings, just as I’d been hiding them all night. I braced myself on the back of the couch, facing away from him, legs spread wide, and felt his hands pry my ass cheeks apart firmly. He hooked the thong to one side with two fingers and stood there for a moment staring at my ass like that, exposed, tight, as if deciding where to start.

—Look at that little ass you’ve got —he growled—. All shaved for me.

He slapped my ass cheek so hard it echoed through the whole living room and ripped a moan out of me that I had to smother into the cushion. Then he slapped the other one, and I pushed my ass back asking for more. I felt him kneel behind me and the next thing was his mouth sinking between my ass cheeks, his hot, wide tongue licking my hole with a patience I hadn’t expected from such a dominant man.

I clung to the couch fabric, shaking, biting my lip so I wouldn’t wake Roxana in the next room. He ate my ass like he was starving, forcing his tongue inside me, fucking me with it, biting my cheeks, spitting on me there and then licking everything clean again. With one hand he circled my waist and grabbed my cock over the thong, squeezing it, measuring how hard I was.

—You’re hotter than a lot of women —he murmured against my ass, with a smile you could hear in his voice—. Keep quiet, don’t ruin the surprise.

He put two fingers in my mouth and made me suck them until they were dripping with saliva. Then he lowered his hand and I felt one finger pushing inside. I moaned softly into the cushion. The first one went in easily, slippery. Then the second followed, and then he scissored them, opening me up, preparing me. I pushed my ass back on my own, searching for them, fucking myself with his hand.

—Ask me for it —he said suddenly, pulling his fingers out—. Ask me for it in your girly voice.

—Put it in me —I whispered, face buried in the cushion—. Put it all in me, please.

—Louder.

—Fuck me, Esteban. Fuck my ass with that big cock, I can’t take it anymore.

I heard him spit into his hand and slick his cock. The hot tip pressed against my hole and began to push. It was slow, millimeter by millimeter. It hurt at first, a pain that tore a long whimper from me, a pain that quickly blended into a pleasure that clouded my head. Esteban knew what he was doing. He waited for me to get used to it, one firm hand on my hip and the other on my shoulder, and only when I had opened up all the way did he really start moving.

—That’s it —he murmured against my ear, his chest pressed to my back—. Look at you, how my cock is sucking your ass. This suits you so well, little slut.

He started slowly, pulling almost all the way out and thrusting back in to the base, until I could feel his balls slapping against me. He held me by the hips with both hands, his fingers digging into my skin. Every thrust tore a muffled moan from me that I crushed against the cushion. My thong had gotten wedged between my ass cheeks and he used it like a handle, yanking it to drive himself deeper.

—Take it all —he growled, speeding up the rhythm—. You wanted a mature man, right? Well, here’s a mature man.

He fucked me hard, faster and faster, and I could feel the skin of my ass bouncing against his pelvis, the wet noise of our bodies, the smell of sex filling the room. My own cock, trapped inside the thong, twitched on its own with every thrust, leaking clear fluid that stained the cotton and ran down the insides of my thighs.

He changed my position a couple of times. First he laid me on my side on the couch, one leg raised, and kept fucking me like that, squeezing one of my tits with his hand and biting my neck. Then he had me climb on top of him, sit down with my back to him, the fishnet stockings shining under the lamp’s low light.

—Now you ride it —he whispered in my ear, grabbing my hips—. Move, I want to see you work for that cock.

I started rising and sinking down on him, slow at first, feeling his cock go in and out of me completely, all the way to the base. I braced my hands on his hairy thighs and sped up, bouncing on his cock, squeezing his ass around him with each drop. He watched me in the reflection of the hallway mirror, with that half-owner’s smile, and slapped my ass every so often to make me move faster.

—That’s it, my slut —he panted—. Fuck that cock, earn it.

I obeyed everything he told me, completely lost in the sensation. My cock pressed against the soaked thong and I felt like I was about to come without touching myself, just from riding him like that. It had been months since I’d felt this way, wanted in such a raw, honest way, fucked like a real woman by a man who knew what he was doing.

—Turn around —he said at last, breath coming in ragged bursts, pulling out in one hard motion—. I want to finish looking at your face.

I knelt again in front of him on the rug. I grabbed his cock with both hands, shiny, hard, veined, and took it back into my mouth. I sucked him fast, ravenously, while I masturbated myself over the thong, pressing my tip against the fabric. He braced himself against the wall with one hand and with the other held my head, pushing in.

—Open your mouth —he growled suddenly—. Take it out, I want to paint that pretty little face.

I pulled his cock out of my mouth and held it against my lips, tongue out, looking him in the eye. His whole body tensed, he let out a rough groan from deep in his chest, and the first jet of hot cum hit my cheek and ran down to my neck. He shook his cock against my tongue and the second jet landed in my mouth, thick, salty. He kept shooting, one after another, staining my chin, my lip, a nipple peeking out from under my wrinkled T-shirt.

—Swallow it all —he panted, clamping my jaw—. All of it, don’t spill a drop.

I closed my mouth around the tip and swallowed what had landed inside. Then I licked his cock all the way to the base, cleaning off the last drops, while he watched me with half-lidded eyes and stroked my hair like I was his little girl. With two fingers he gathered the semen running down my cheek and spread it over my lips; I sucked it from his fingers, one by one, never lowering my gaze.

***

Afterward we stayed quiet for a moment, catching our breath. He straightened his clothes calmly; I pulled my jeans back up over my rumpled stockings, still trembling, my thong soaked with my own cum sticking to my body. I wiped my face with my hand, cleaned off what I could, and licked my fingers so there’d be no trace left.

—Roxana won’t find out a thing —he said, looking at me with a crooked smile.

—Nothing —I repeated.

Esteban leaned in, gave me a short kiss on the forehead, almost tender, and went back to sitting on the couch as if nothing had happened. A few minutes later Roxana came out of the room, disheveled and still half asleep, apologizing for having dozed off.

—No worries —I told her, pouring her another glass of water—. We were just chatting here, you didn’t miss much.

He looked at me over her shoulder and I looked back. That was our silent pact.

They left shortly after. I closed the door, leaned my back against it, and slid down to the floor with a stupid smile, my ass still burning and my body hot. I slipped my hand inside my pants, squeezed the soaked thong, and smelled my fingers: I still had his scent on me. I knew that wasn’t going to end with just one night.

And I wasn’t wrong. Since then, Esteban finds any excuse to text me when Roxana isn’t nearby. And every time I know he’s coming over, I put on the red thong and the fishnet stockings under my guy clothes, waiting for him to discover me again and fuck me like that first night.