My Friend Taught Me to Spy Through the Crack in the Wall

They say women who like to watch are much rarer than men. Maybe that’s true. But I learned very young that spying in secret has a power of its own, especially when what you’re looking at is exactly what you shouldn’t be seeing. This is a story I never told anyone except one person, and even now I still use it to turn myself on when I’m alone, with my fingers buried between my legs and my breath coming in ragged gasps.

I was twenty, and I spent almost every afternoon with Mariela, a friend three years older than me who lived two streets from my house. We used to go to college together along a dirt path that ran beside some vacant lots. She had an easy laugh and a way of telling things that left me breathless.

One morning, on the way to class, she squeezed my arm and lowered her voice.

—I have to show you something —she said—. But you have to swear you won’t tell anyone.

She explained, with little giggles, that for weeks she had been spying on a man of about thirty-eight who lived alone in a little room at the back of the passageway. The walls were old wood and had cracks everywhere. She’d discovered him one afternoon while he was leafing through magazines and jerking off without knowing someone was watching.

—He has a huge cock —she whispered in my ear, biting her lip—. You should see how he grips it with both hands and how the load bursts out at the end. It splashes the magazines.

I had never seen a naked man. Not even in pictures. The internet barely existed back then, and for me all of that was unexplored territory. Mariela delighted in my stunned face as she described in vivid detail how the guy spat into his palm, smeared the head, and jerked his dick until it turned purple. Every word made me burn inside; I could feel my nipples hardening under my T-shirt and a sticky heat beginning to wet my panties.

She was the one who showed me the first magazines she kept hidden in her backpack. We locked ourselves in the college bathroom and went page by page: women with their legs spread and huge cocks buried in their cunts, guys coming over big tits, mouths sucking thick dicks down to the throat. I was stunned, feeling my underwear soak through without being able to stop it, discreetly pressing my thighs together to calm the pounding between my legs. Mariela watched me out of the corner of her eye, amused and satisfied, like someone sharing a secret she knew would change you.

—Do you like it? —she asked, brushing my thigh with her fingertips—. It drives me crazy.

***

For several afternoons we went behind the room, well hidden by a dirt embankment that covered the back side. And one of those afternoons, we got lucky.

The man was standing naked, eyes fixed on a magazine, his hand moving slowly over a thick, long cock whose head was already shining with pre-cum. A thrill ran from the nape of my neck to my heels. My mouth went dry. I held my breath, pressed against the wood, peering through a crack barely wider than a finger.

I watched him spit into his palm and grab his dick again with a firm grip, pumping the whole shaft up and down, squeezing when he reached the head, giving a hard little tug at the end of each stroke. His balls hung heavy and taut, pulling tighter and tighter against his body. He licked his lips, his breathing was rough, and with his free hand he rubbed his chest, pinched one nipple, shoved two fingers into his mouth as if he were imagining something. His cock pulsed in his hand. I saw a thick drop slide from the tip and tangle between his fingers, and a guttural moan escaped him that went straight through me.

I felt wetness run down my thighs. Without thinking, I dropped one hand and pressed myself over my jeans, stifling a gasp against my own shoulder. Mariela, beside me, already had her hand under her skirt.

What marked me most was the end: the way his body tensed, how he bent slightly forward, the strangled cry he let out, and the white, thick, long jet that shot from his cock and splattered the magazine, the floor, his own thighs. Then another, and another weaker one, until the dick kept spitting thick drops that slid over his knuckles. I was afraid he might catch us and slipped away without making a sound. A few steps later Mariela caught up with me, breathless and smiling, her fingers shiny with her own juice.

—See? I told you —she whispered triumphantly, and shoved her fingers into her mouth to suck them clean.

That same afternoon, on the way back from college, she invited me to her place for some made-up reason. As soon as she closed the door, she leaned against the wall and looked at me differently.

—Touch me —she begged, her voice breaking—. I’ve been on fire since I saw him. My cunt’s a puddle, feel it.

She took my wrist and guided my hand under her skirt. She wasn’t wearing panties. All at once I felt the soft hair, the swollen lips, the warm, thick wetness spilling between her thighs. My breath caught. I touched her as best I could, clumsy, sliding between her folds, until she pressed my fingers against her swollen clit and made me draw fast circles.

—Like that, don’t stop… harder —she panted, her mouth open against my neck—. Put them in, come on, put them inside.

I sank two fingers into her and felt them swallowed by hot, throbbing flesh. She started rocking her hips against my hand, riding my fingers, biting her fist so she wouldn’t scream. I felt her clenching around my fingers, getting wetter and wetter, while I punished her clit with my thumb. She trembled all over. She came pressed against me, squeezing my cunt against my hand, leaving my wrist soaked.

When she was done, she stayed silent for a moment, catching her breath. Then she knelt in front of me, unbuttoned my pants, yanked my jeans and panties down past my weak protests, and spread my thighs with both hands. I felt her hot tongue sink between my lips, climb slowly to my clit, circle around it, then suck it all the way into her mouth. It was the first time in my life. I writhed, sweating, clutching her shoulders as she licked me from top to bottom, shoved her tongue inside me, sucked my folds, and returned to my clit with a stubborn suction that made my knees buckle. I discovered all at once what my body was capable of feeling. I came against her mouth screaming, my legs shaking so hard she had to hold me up so I wouldn’t fall to the floor.

***

That’s how it all began. For months, every afternoon we repeated the same ritual: an obligatory stop behind the neighbor’s room, spying on him when luck allowed, watching him jerk off with the magazine open or lying on the bed with his balls out, and then Mariela’s house, the living room rug, our legs tangled together, my face buried between her thighs and the screams we muffled against a pillow. We learned to lick each other at the same time, scissors-style, sucking each other’s cunts at once until neither of us could take any more and we ended up lying flat on our backs, chins shiny and thighs sticky.

She had been the first at everything. One afternoon, while she held me after I came with three of her fingers inside me, she said something that made my skin prickle.

—Can you imagine that man doing to us what we see in the magazines? —she murmured into my hair—. That huge cock in a cunt, or in a mouth, coming on a face…

I trembled just thinking about it. If Mariela’s fingers make me feel all this, what would it be like to have a dick like that buried inside me? We invented fantasies about him, told them to each other with one hand between the other’s legs, and ended up thrashing like madwomen on the floor, biting our nipples, sinking fingers in, licking each other until we were wrecked.

Almost a year later, one afternoon while we watched him through the boards as he jerked off lying on the bed, his hard cock pointing at the ceiling and his balls clenched in his hand, Mariela suddenly sat up.

—That’s it, I can’t take it anymore —she said—. I’m going in. You watch from here, through the crack.

I felt my heart drop into my stomach. I tried to stop her, but she was impulsive and bold, and she didn’t give me time. I saw the door fly open and Mariela walk into the room.

***

The man jerked, startled, half-covering his dick with the magazine. I broke into a cold sweat, peering through the slit, terrified imagining how he might react. But Mariela gave him no chance. She started taking off her clothes in front of his unbelieving eyes, one piece at a time: first the dress over her head, then the bra, letting two white tits with dark, erect nipples spring free, and finally the panties, which she let fall to her ankles and kicked aside. She stood there naked, with her hairless mound and already gleaming thighs, in the middle of that humble room where there was only space for a bed, a small table, and not much else.

He looked at her like someone who still couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The cock he’d tried to hide hardened all over again, pointing at her. Then he lunged. He kissed her with animal urgency, forcing his tongue down her throat, and lowered his head to her nipples, sucking them one after the other, biting them, tugging them with his lips until Mariela moaned and arched her back. He ran his lips along her neck, took one hand to her cunt, parted her lips with two fingers, and shoved the middle one in all at once. He lifted her in his arms as if she weighed nothing, his fingers still buried inside, stirring her up from within. He was a stocky man, with big, rough hands, and Mariela looked tiny against his body.

He dropped her onto the bed and spread her legs wide. On the other side of the wall, I couldn’t stop watching. My friend was unintentionally angled toward me, toward the crack, offering me a direct view of her pink, shining cunt, pulsing with need. Seeing her like that brought me a mixture of jealousy and a desire I didn’t fully understand. Without realizing it, I’d already unbuttoned my jeans and had three fingers buried between my legs.

—Slowly, please… it’s my first time with a man —I heard her say, half nervous laughter, half trembling.

He held back. He knelt at the side of the bed, grabbed her ass cheeks with both hands, lifted her toward his mouth, and buried his face in her cunt. He ate her without hurry, with a flat tongue, going up and down her lips, sinking inside, sucking her clit until she screamed. Mariela pushed his head with both hands, grinding her cunt against his mouth. Then he slid in two thick fingers and curled them inside while still sucking her clit, and Mariela started letting out long moans I knew well, the same ones she let escape when it was just the two of us on the rug. She had an orgasm against the man’s mouth, screaming, and another almost immediately after, clutching the sheets, her hips shaking uncontrollably. Hidden away, I punished my clit with two soaked fingers, biting my other fist so I wouldn’t moan.

Then I saw him straighten up and grab his cock, thick, long, the tip glistening. He ran it along Mariela’s cunt lips from top to bottom, rubbing it over her clit, soaking the head in her wetness. She panted, opening her legs wider, pulling him toward her with her heels.

—Put it in me… now, come on, I can’t take it anymore…

When he finally drove it inside her, Mariela let out a deep cry and closed her eyes, enduring it, arching under his weight. I watched the cock sink halfway in, come almost all the way out, go back in a little deeper, and so on until the man was pressed against her pelvis, his balls brushing her ass. He moved slowly at first, whispering to her, soothing her through his own panting, coming almost all the way out and then sinking back in very slowly, letting her feel every centimeter. Then the old bed began to creak with a rhythm that grew wilder and wilder, the headboard banging against the wall, threatening to bring down the whole little room. The man grabbed her legs behind the knees, spread them wider, threw them over his shoulder, and started splitting her open for real, with deep, dry thrusts, his buttocks tightening and loosening with each drive. The wet sound of cock going in and out mixed with Mariela’s screams.

—More… don’t stop, like that, fuck me! —she begged, between pain and pleasure—. Harder, break me!

He turned her onto her stomach, lifted her ass with both hands, and shoved it in from behind again, gripping her waist, shaking her violently. Mariela buried her face in the pillow and stuck her ass out, offering it to him. I felt like I was about to faint watching, my fingers moving frantically between my legs, biting my lips until they bled. I came while spying, my forehead pressed to the wood, stifling a cry against my arm.

When he finished, he did it inside her, with a rough roar, buried to the hilt, holding her by the hips and unloading his whole load into her cunt. I watched him withdraw slowly, his cock still shiny and hard, and a thick white thread of semen run down Mariela’s thighs. He collapsed on top of my friend, and the two of them stayed tangled together, embracing, whispering words I couldn’t make out. I slipped away in silence, my fingers sticky with my own wetness, before he could realize I’d been spying on them the whole time.

A few steps later Mariela caught up with me, hair disheveled and looking wrecked, walking with difficulty, her legs still trembling. I lent her my comb. She managed a tired smile.

—I can barely take a step —she said—. For a moment I thought that animal was splitting me in two. I’m still dripping semen, look.

She parted her legs slightly and I saw the white liquid sliding down her thigh. She slipped two fingers inside, scooped up a drop, and sucked it off while looking me straight in the eyes.

***

From that afternoon on, something broke between us. Bernardo —that was his name— and Mariela were hooked on each other like two magnets impossible to pull apart. She, bewitched by that cock and by that man who wasn’t even handsome; he, dazzled by her pretty face and young body, thanking heaven for such a gift.

Mariela invited me to keep watching them, and once in a while I went back: I saw them fucking in every position, her on top riding him with her tits bouncing, her on her knees sucking him all the way to the throat with tearful eyes, him coming on her face and tits while she stuck out her tongue. But by then I was uncomfortable doing it. She started missing college, locking herself up with him for entire mornings. I lived with the fear that someone would find out and tell her mother, who was very strict. The fierce afternoons she spent with Bernardo left her exhausted, and little by little we stopped enjoying each other.

When we finished our degrees, I kept studying. Mariela, on the other hand, only just managed to graduate, between absences and having her head somewhere else. She said that one day she would be an actress, and we used to play at staging ridiculous scenes where she was the star. She had beauty and talent, and I told her so all the time.

***

I won a scholarship and went far away, to a university abroad. There I met the man who would become my husband, a professional ten years older than me, a liberal man with no prejudices. I told him that story, confessed that many times I masturbated remembering it, that I still came thinking about Bernardo splitting Mariela open against that old bed. Instead of getting upset, he got turned on listening to me, and he fucked me with a new intensity, making me repeat the details while he took me from behind.

—Tell me how he sucked her —he whispered in my ear, driving into me—. Tell me how he came in her mouth.

I told him that the man in the room had impressed me forever. One afternoon he took out a contact magazine and showed me a picture. Because of my inexperience, I didn’t understand right away what it was about: couples who looked for others to watch and share. Days later he took me to meet one of those men.

I was petrified. He was an older foreigner, gentle and pleasant, who, in the midst of conversation, took my hand and led me toward the bedroom. My husband stayed behind, discreet, by the curtains.

The man undressed me slowly, between kisses and calm words that eased my nerves. He took off my blouse, my bra, kissed my nipples until they were hard as stones, sucked each one as if he had all the time in the world. Then he pulled down my skirt and panties, laid me on the bed, and gently spread my legs. He knelt on the floor and ate my cunt with an expert’s patience, his pointed tongue sinking between my lips, searching for my clit, sucking it softly and then harder, sliding in two fingers that curled until they found a spot that made me jump.

I came against his mouth, gripping his gray hair, and when I was still trembling he straightened up, took off his clothes, and showed me a thick, veined cock, not as huge as Bernardo’s but hard as iron. He brought it to my face and I opened my mouth without being asked. I sucked it all, tasting the salty fluid at the tip, taking it down my throat until my eyes filled with tears. He stroked my face, slipped his fingers into my mouth along with his cock, whispered how well I did it.

Then he rolled me onto my back and settled between my legs. He pushed into me slowly, centimeter by centimeter, letting me feel how he opened me. Everything rose in intensity little by little, until I myself, despite the uncertainty, wanted it to happen. And it did: slow at first, with long, deep thrusts, then soft again when he had me on the edge, and suddenly fast, brutal, his balls slapping my ass, ripping one orgasm after another out of me until I was wrecked, screaming, clawing his back. He finished outside, over my belly and tits, marking my skin with thick streams of hot cum.

What was strangest was knowing that my husband was watching us from between the curtains, in silence, his cock out and his hand moving, just as I had watched Mariela and Bernardo so many afternoons behind that wall. At last I understood, from the other side, the pleasure of being watched and of watching. When it was all over, and the other man had discreetly withdrawn, it was my husband who threw himself on top of me, fired up by what he had just seen, and fucked me again on the semen-stained sheets, rubbing his cock in the other man’s cum that was still dripping down my belly, burying it to the hilt, coming inside with a roar that echoed through the whole room.

***

Almost twelve years passed before I returned to my homeland. I went to visit some relatives and, almost without thinking, asked about Mariela. They told me she was still living in the same place. My heart filled with joy and I went to find her.

I found a woman I barely recognized: disheveled, tired, much older than her years. Three children were playing in the yard, and the eldest, almost a teenager, had an unmistakable resemblance to Bernardo.

Mariela was hanging clothes in the sun. She looked at me without expression, ignored my smile and the arms I opened wide for her. She only nodded slightly in greeting and went into the house.

I stood there holding onto the old fence, calling her again and again. She never came back out. I left heartbroken, and I never saw her again in my life.

And yet, even today, the memories of those afternoons behind the wall remain the most vivid material of my fantasies. I use them to get myself going when I’m alone, with two fingers buried in my cunt and the other fist in my mouth, and also when I’m with someone who turns out bland and unimaginative. I close my eyes, I become the girl again watching through the crack with one hand in her panties, and everything else disappears.