The Handshake in the Dark

In 2002, my life was a comfortable split. Weekends were for Beatriz, enjoying her deaf neighbors and her insatiable appetite. Weekdays were for my friends, specifically Ricardo, who had returned to the city after a failed relationship in the mountains.

Ricardo had stories. He told me about a girl named Mónica—pretty, big tits, but a bit naive. The legend went that on their first date, he had asked her to turn around. She sighed, "Already? We barely met... but okay," and let him fuck her in the ass because she misunderstood "turn around" for "anal."

I stored that information carefully.

One night, the group gathered at a bar. Ricardo was there, Mónica was there, and alcohol was flowing. We were teasing another couple, trying to get them to kiss. To demonstrate, I leaned over and kissed Mónica softly on the lips. It was a joke, but her lips were soft, and she didn't pull away. The seed was planted.

A few weeks later, we threw a party at my apartment—the only one big enough to host the chaos. Mónica was in charge of the alcohol. The kitchen was buzzing. I finished my mojito and followed Mónica to get a refill. While she was slicing lime, I stepped up behind her. I kissed her neck. She froze, but didn't push me away. I spun her around.

The "joke" from the bar turned into a real, hot kiss, my hands grabbing her ass. We broke apart before anyone walked in, returning to the living room as if nothing had happened.

The party wound down. Couples left, plans changed, and soon, it was just the three of us: Me, Ricardo, and Mónica.

It was late. We had two bedrooms, but when it came time to sleep, Ricardo and I exchanged a look. We didn't need words. We knew exactly what the other was thinking: Let's see what happens if we all sleep in the big bed.

We climbed in, boxers only. Mónica, in a t-shirt and panties, took the middle spot. The lights went out. I reached out in the dark, my hand sliding over her leg, moving up. She didn't stop me.

Then, my fingers brushed against another hand. Ricardo’s hand.

He was touching her breasts while I was touching her lower half. We froze for a second, realizing the absurdity of it. This motherfucker is doing the same thing. But Mónica? She lay there, silent, accepting the double attention.

We made a silent deal in the dark. Ricardo took the top half; I took the bottom. But Ricardo, impatient as always, got bored with the lack of reaction. After a few minutes of silent groping, he sighed, got up, and marched off to the spare bedroom. Mónica followed him.

I lay there, thinking I had lost. But a minute later, she came back. Ricardo evidently wasn't in the mood anymore.

She climbed back into bed with me. The silent games were over. I pulled her close, kissing her, my hands worshipping those big, firm tits Ricardo had described. I moved to fuck her, positioning myself between her legs.

"Wait," she whispered in the dark. "I'm not on the pill."

I paused, ready to reach for a condom.

"It's better if you fuck me in the ass."

Jackpot. I didn't ask twice. I flipped her over and took the invitation.

The sex was... paradoxical. Physically, it was incredible—great tits, tight ass, willing partner. But emotionally? She was like a mannequin. Silent, passive, no oral. It was a great fuck, but a boring connection.

The next day, Ricardo and I compared notes, laughing until our sides hurt about that moment our hands touched in the dark. We also laughed about Mónica's "gift" to me. It was a good story between friends.

But Mónica wasn't done with us yet.

A few weeks later, Ricardo called. He was coming over with Mónica and her sister. We drank a bottle of vodka. The air was thick with unspoken tension. Ricardo had a crush on the sister, leaving Mónica to me again.

She went to the spare bedroom to get her purse. I followed. "They'll notice," she whispered as I kissed her neck. "They won't," I promised. "They're busy."

I was right. Ricardo was making his own moves in the living room. I took Mónica on the small bed. Again, she was easy, willing, and completely silent. No blowjob, no noise, just a functional fuck with a spectacular body.

The next morning, they left early, nursing hangovers. I had cheated on Beatriz, yes. But in the haze of vodka and mojitos, it felt less like a betrayal and more like an inevitable chapter of being young and stupid.