The same night of my birthday, after being with the union representative in a hotel in Mataderos, we went to dinner with some friends at a wine cellar in Palermo. Grilled meat, abundant wine and champagne for the toast. From there, we went without stops to a nightclub in the Center, to dance and keep going until dawn.
As it was a party night, with an open bar, no one drove themselves, so we took separate taxis.
I don't want to give more details about the places we went or the identities of my friends, since I usually don't change the names of the protagonists in my stories. Damián is Damián, Claudia is Claudia and Cholo is Cholo, there's no alteration or pseudonyms, neither with them nor with anyone.
But although I prefer to keep my inner circle anonymous, I have to talk about Diego, one of our best friends.
Diego and my husband have known each other since childhood, they attended the same school for kindergarten, primary, and secondary. They were so inseparable that they always say they even went out with a pair of twins and never managed to differentiate which girlfriend was whose, which, as you can imagine, gave rise to thousands of anecdotes.
Later, due to life and study reasons, their paths diverged.
My husband entered Economics and Diego, under paternal pressure, enrolled in Law, but soon abandoned it and dedicated himself to his true passion, journalism.
When we got married, Diego was the witness at the Civil ceremony and the godfather at our church wedding. This shows a very strong friendship not only with him, but also with Paula, his wife, whom we became intimate with just after meeting. That's why I still can't believe what happened that night in the nightclub.
We were dancing in the middle of the floor, the whole group, already with several drinks on board. Not only did we dance with our respective partners, but every now and then we'd switch and dance with everyone.
The game was to dance to all the songs, most of which... They were pure punchi-punchi, but when one of those slow songs came on, the ones that make you dance close together, we had to dance with whoever it landed us with. And I got paired up with Diego.
I approach and start moving in front of him, saying come with my index finger. I want to clarify that I didn't do it intending to seduce or excite him; he's my friend, the husband of my friend, so I wasn't trying to provoke him at all. But sometimes I do it without realizing.
So he comes over and puts his hand on my waist.
-Happy birthday Mariela- he says with a slightly hoarse voice.
My friends call me Mary or Marita, but for him, I'll always be Mariela.
He puts the other hand on my back, which is exposed due to the low-cut dress, pulls me towards him and gives me a strong hug that even makes me feel his testicles throbbing with heat.
At first, I think it's just the excitement of the moment, the mix of adrenaline and alcohol, so I don't say anything, although I'm trying to get away as much as possible. But when the hug got firmer and more intense, I couldn't pretend anymore. It was too obvious, and what really scared me wasn't that he was hugging me, but that someone from our group would notice.
-What are you doing?- I ask, pulling away for the umpteenth time.
-Huh...?- he pretends to be clueless.
-Come on, don't play dumb, you're hugging me- I tell him again.
-Me?...-
-Yes you, look if Paula and M..., (my husband) notice-
He looks towards where our respective partners are, looks at me and then says:
-Let's go to the VIP area then
-Don't be a jerk- I say, letting him go and leaving him dancing alone.
I take advantage of going to the bathroom and refreshing myself a bit. At that moment, I think it's best to distance myself.
The boliche's bathroom is at the end of a dark and narrow hallway where some couples retreat to get intimate. So I have to dodge bodies both coming and going... trail, when someone grabs my arm. Surprised I turn around and there he is, Diego, looking at me like a serial killer would look at his victim.
A strong tug pulls me towards him. I feel his agitated breathing, the breath of alcohol, not just drunk but also stimulated.
He puts his hand on my waist again and leans against me with more emphasis than before.
'Diego, don't do anything you might regret,' I say, trying to prevent what already seems inevitable.
He does it anyway, bringing his lips to mine and kissing me.
I know I shouldn't do it, I shouldn't respond, but my mouth opens, letting his tongue, impregnated with alcohol, fuse with mine.
Considering this as an acceptance on my part, he corners me against one of the hallway columns, puts a hand under the hem of my dress, and caresses me over my panties.
I know I shouldn't, I can't let him, but my legs open easily, even when he inserts two fingers into my pussy and starts to masturbate me.
'You can't... you can't do this to me!' I say between gasps of pleasure more than denial.
But he does it and I can't (or don't want) to stop it.
'I'll go get some condoms and come back,' he says, leaving me there against the column with my orgasm pulsing at the gates of my sex.
I could have left, should have done so, but I didn't. I stayed there waiting for him.
The men's bathroom is just a few steps away, so he comes back soon and takes my hand, leading me without any resistance.
The reserved rooms are on the first floor, so we go up, him ahead of us, pulling me along with the urgency of someone who has been waiting for that moment for a long time.
'Diego... let's go... they must be wondering where we are,' I say, but he doesn't respond and neither do I insist.
We sit on the sofa in the reserved room and kiss again. Now it's not just Our languages celebrate their game, also our hands that try to grasp everything possible. Theirs concentrate on my breasts, mine on the bulge that inflames his groin.
We don't have too much time, so we must skip some preliminaries.
He stands up, puts himself beside me and opens his zipper, pulling out his cock.
I grab it and suck it, I don't need to pamper it too much because it's been like a hot iron since he grabbed me on the dance floor.
-Diego..., this is wrong...- I say from below, although without stopping sucking it.
-And it will get worse!- he assures me.
He puts on a condom, opens my legs and, lying down on the sofa with his back to mine, enters me with his pants still on.
I entwine my legs around his waist and move with him, feeling each blow, each push like a stab at our friendship.
I bite my lower lip because it seems like my husband and friends could hear me moaning despite the music and general noise.
Diego doesn't gasp either, he contains himself, as if he were thinking the same thing I was.
With his knees on the sofa, he plunges into me again and again until he can't contain himself anymore and ends with a force that resonates throughout my interior. I end up too, merging with him in an enjoyment that, although guilty, feels extremely pleasant to me.
When he pulls out, I get up quickly, as if the sofa were burning me. I adjust my underwear and skirt, which had rolled up over my waist.
He throws away the condom loaded with semen and zips up his pants. Neither of us says anything; in a moment like that, words are unnecessary.
We slowly go down the stairs, protecting ourselves from any indiscreet gaze. Only then do I realize how careless we were when we went upstairs.
When we reach the Ground Floor, Diego goes back to the dance floor and I to the bathroom.
I wash my pussy, dry it with plenty of toilet paper and, looking at myself in the mirror, try I want to get rid of this dusty face and guilt I have. When I go out with my friends, I keep dancing but with my husband, I don't want any more exchanges, I don't want him to touch me again like Diego did. How am I going to look at his face after tonight? How am I going to look at Paula's face after tonight? I recognize that I'm a slut, I accept it, but I thought I had my limits. What will happen to my marriage if I start breaking them? I just hope the answer isn't what I fear so much...
As it was a party night, with an open bar, no one drove themselves, so we took separate taxis.
I don't want to give more details about the places we went or the identities of my friends, since I usually don't change the names of the protagonists in my stories. Damián is Damián, Claudia is Claudia and Cholo is Cholo, there's no alteration or pseudonyms, neither with them nor with anyone.
But although I prefer to keep my inner circle anonymous, I have to talk about Diego, one of our best friends.
Diego and my husband have known each other since childhood, they attended the same school for kindergarten, primary, and secondary. They were so inseparable that they always say they even went out with a pair of twins and never managed to differentiate which girlfriend was whose, which, as you can imagine, gave rise to thousands of anecdotes.
Later, due to life and study reasons, their paths diverged.
My husband entered Economics and Diego, under paternal pressure, enrolled in Law, but soon abandoned it and dedicated himself to his true passion, journalism.
When we got married, Diego was the witness at the Civil ceremony and the godfather at our church wedding. This shows a very strong friendship not only with him, but also with Paula, his wife, whom we became intimate with just after meeting. That's why I still can't believe what happened that night in the nightclub.
We were dancing in the middle of the floor, the whole group, already with several drinks on board. Not only did we dance with our respective partners, but every now and then we'd switch and dance with everyone.
The game was to dance to all the songs, most of which... They were pure punchi-punchi, but when one of those slow songs came on, the ones that make you dance close together, we had to dance with whoever it landed us with. And I got paired up with Diego.
I approach and start moving in front of him, saying come with my index finger. I want to clarify that I didn't do it intending to seduce or excite him; he's my friend, the husband of my friend, so I wasn't trying to provoke him at all. But sometimes I do it without realizing.
So he comes over and puts his hand on my waist.
-Happy birthday Mariela- he says with a slightly hoarse voice.
My friends call me Mary or Marita, but for him, I'll always be Mariela.
He puts the other hand on my back, which is exposed due to the low-cut dress, pulls me towards him and gives me a strong hug that even makes me feel his testicles throbbing with heat.
At first, I think it's just the excitement of the moment, the mix of adrenaline and alcohol, so I don't say anything, although I'm trying to get away as much as possible. But when the hug got firmer and more intense, I couldn't pretend anymore. It was too obvious, and what really scared me wasn't that he was hugging me, but that someone from our group would notice.
-What are you doing?- I ask, pulling away for the umpteenth time.
-Huh...?- he pretends to be clueless.
-Come on, don't play dumb, you're hugging me- I tell him again.
-Me?...-
-Yes you, look if Paula and M..., (my husband) notice-
He looks towards where our respective partners are, looks at me and then says:
-Let's go to the VIP area then
-Don't be a jerk- I say, letting him go and leaving him dancing alone.
I take advantage of going to the bathroom and refreshing myself a bit. At that moment, I think it's best to distance myself.
The boliche's bathroom is at the end of a dark and narrow hallway where some couples retreat to get intimate. So I have to dodge bodies both coming and going... trail, when someone grabs my arm. Surprised I turn around and there he is, Diego, looking at me like a serial killer would look at his victim.
A strong tug pulls me towards him. I feel his agitated breathing, the breath of alcohol, not just drunk but also stimulated.
He puts his hand on my waist again and leans against me with more emphasis than before.
'Diego, don't do anything you might regret,' I say, trying to prevent what already seems inevitable.
He does it anyway, bringing his lips to mine and kissing me.
I know I shouldn't do it, I shouldn't respond, but my mouth opens, letting his tongue, impregnated with alcohol, fuse with mine.
Considering this as an acceptance on my part, he corners me against one of the hallway columns, puts a hand under the hem of my dress, and caresses me over my panties.
I know I shouldn't, I can't let him, but my legs open easily, even when he inserts two fingers into my pussy and starts to masturbate me.
'You can't... you can't do this to me!' I say between gasps of pleasure more than denial.
But he does it and I can't (or don't want) to stop it.
'I'll go get some condoms and come back,' he says, leaving me there against the column with my orgasm pulsing at the gates of my sex.
I could have left, should have done so, but I didn't. I stayed there waiting for him.
The men's bathroom is just a few steps away, so he comes back soon and takes my hand, leading me without any resistance.
The reserved rooms are on the first floor, so we go up, him ahead of us, pulling me along with the urgency of someone who has been waiting for that moment for a long time.
'Diego... let's go... they must be wondering where we are,' I say, but he doesn't respond and neither do I insist.
We sit on the sofa in the reserved room and kiss again. Now it's not just Our languages celebrate their game, also our hands that try to grasp everything possible. Theirs concentrate on my breasts, mine on the bulge that inflames his groin.
We don't have too much time, so we must skip some preliminaries.
He stands up, puts himself beside me and opens his zipper, pulling out his cock.
I grab it and suck it, I don't need to pamper it too much because it's been like a hot iron since he grabbed me on the dance floor.
-Diego..., this is wrong...- I say from below, although without stopping sucking it.
-And it will get worse!- he assures me.
He puts on a condom, opens my legs and, lying down on the sofa with his back to mine, enters me with his pants still on.
I entwine my legs around his waist and move with him, feeling each blow, each push like a stab at our friendship.
I bite my lower lip because it seems like my husband and friends could hear me moaning despite the music and general noise.
Diego doesn't gasp either, he contains himself, as if he were thinking the same thing I was.
With his knees on the sofa, he plunges into me again and again until he can't contain himself anymore and ends with a force that resonates throughout my interior. I end up too, merging with him in an enjoyment that, although guilty, feels extremely pleasant to me.
When he pulls out, I get up quickly, as if the sofa were burning me. I adjust my underwear and skirt, which had rolled up over my waist.
He throws away the condom loaded with semen and zips up his pants. Neither of us says anything; in a moment like that, words are unnecessary.
We slowly go down the stairs, protecting ourselves from any indiscreet gaze. Only then do I realize how careless we were when we went upstairs.
When we reach the Ground Floor, Diego goes back to the dance floor and I to the bathroom.
I wash my pussy, dry it with plenty of toilet paper and, looking at myself in the mirror, try I want to get rid of this dusty face and guilt I have. When I go out with my friends, I keep dancing but with my husband, I don't want any more exchanges, I don't want him to touch me again like Diego did. How am I going to look at his face after tonight? How am I going to look at Paula's face after tonight? I recognize that I'm a slut, I accept it, but I thought I had my limits. What will happen to my marriage if I start breaking them? I just hope the answer isn't what I fear so much...
20 comentários - Polvo de sábado a la noche...
Cuando subes ese relato yo lo quiero leer maritaputita 😉
"...fundiéndome con el en un disfrute que aunque culposo, me resulta sumamente placentero"
"...trato de borrarme esa cara de polvo y culpabilidad que tengo"
"...sintiendo cada golpe, cada empuje como una puñalada a nuestra amistad"[/i]
Mi querida Mary, siempre dices que eres una puta muy puta, y que ese es como tu sello personal, pero también eres una persona, un ser humano que respeta ciertos códigos. ¿Y que pasó aquí, como para cuestionar hasta el futuro de tu matrimonio?, Pienso que solo fue una "caída" producto de que eres una mujer demasiado caliente y fogosa, como muchos, y cuantos , de nosotros no ha querido garcharse a nuestra mejor amiga (o amigo) alguna vez?...jajaja Creo que tu matrimonio no está en riesgo, porque por muy puta que seas, amas a tu marido, y a tu familia, y eso no va a cambiar, así que echa fuera todo ese sentimiento de culpabilidad con que "adornaste" casi toda la historia!!
EXCELENTE post como siempre querida amiga, eres la mejor en este rubro, (de escritora me refiero...jajaja) sin dudas querida...FELICITACIONES!!👏👏 Abrazos y besos💋