Birthday Party
The truth is that they have always been there. After so many years since they left for Bogotá, today I can say that we are the same people who love and miss each other. Throughout all this time, there have been prolonged absences. We have gone months without talking, and on several occasions, it’s the media who has updated me on their life. Apparently, they've been living with a famous TV star for quite a while now. I, for my part, got married, separated, and in these last 5 years, I've had nothing but non-serious relationships; just small, insignificant stories that have only served to strengthen the loneliness that I have learned to love.
Since we were ten years old, we were inseparable. Then we would be accomplices in a mischievous and rebellious adolescence. Our mothers always handled with prudence this daring friendship that became stronger and stronger; it was more caution than prohibition. Very different from my father, who had no restraint and confronted, without any shame, what he considered an absurd relationship that added no value to his long-awaited only daughter. And faced with so much resistance, we ended up drifting apart over time. But even so, despite choosing different careers, finding opposite friends, and being incompatible in many tastes, the mental connection was always inevitable. A glance was enough to understand what we were thinking. If there was something that was left over, it was words.
They told me they were coming to Juan's birthday, our dear mutual friend who had been announcing his big four-oh for months. The last month before their arrival, for what would be the great rematch after almost three years without seeing each other, was what paradoxically ended up charging this relationship with an infinite desire to touch other dimensions we never wanted to explore. A turn of events that, honestly, I never imagined. Messages going back and forth, secret calls, and preparations on both sides to surprise each other, adorned a scenario that was possibly beginning to take shape.
As the days passed, the date drew nearer. Our words grew more and more malicious and compelled me to dump I don’t know how, my current boyfriend, as we were supposed to be a couple at this celebration. I was all set. I had countless talks with myself, trying to banish from my mind that nagging voice that warned me of the dangers of mixing sex with a friendship that was truly precious. My dark subconscious, however, slowly took over more ground in this daring and perverted mind, flooding my whole body with a fiery heat.
A day before the arrival, I found a perfectly packed black box in my house. There was no card attached. As I opened it, I noticed that the inside was lined with velvety pads that felt heavenly to the touch. At the bottom, there were some Ben Wa balls. That infamous erotic little toy consisting of two balls of about 4 cm each, coated with silicone and which had inside some smaller beads connected by a string. A giggle with a taste of laughter drew on my lips. With them, a note in their handwriting that I recognized right away.
Usage instructions:
1. I'll pick you up tomorrow at 8:00 PM.
2. Insert them a few minutes before.
3. Enjoy them all night.
4. Get ready for their exit.
This box closed in a decisive way, the prelude to what would be an encounter that laid all the cards on the table.
It was a whole day of preparations; flawless underwear and beauty rituals that fueled my cravings. Black was the chosen color. I opted for a tight leather miniskirt, a backless shirt, and my stilettos which were a must. It was the perfect outfit to make the impact I was sure it would cause. At 7:40 PM, I began to explore what had always piqued my curiosity: how would it feel to use those stimulating and enticing balls, according to several friends who were already experts in the matter? I stood in front of the mirror in my room, which covered my entire body, and under my skirt, I began to accommodate and push them inside me; first one, slowly, fearing it might hurt. Half a second, I wait, breathe. I suck my finger. I smell myself. I perspire. Then the other... plop... it was done. I stood up, put on my panties, and started walking very slowly, trying to establish a logical connection between my steps and what was feeling down there. With movement, the inner balls collided with the outer ones and created a kind of vibrational effect that, as a result, produced very sensual and pleasurable sensations in me.
The doorbell sounded; it was the porter announcing their grand arrival. I tell them I'll be right down. My heart raced, I couldn't control myself, I had to do it, my legs trembled, and on top of that, this oscillation between my legs became quite imposing. I grabbed my bag, went out, locked the door, my soul throbs. I ask for the elevator, and when it reaches my floor, they're there, inside, flawless, they're an angel, so long since we've seen each other. I don't even let them get out. I step into the wooden box. I look at them. I smile. I press floor 1, and we begin to descend. We looked into each other's eyes, and I could understand their gaze as I did years ago, but now it's different. A long, intense, motionless hug, a kiss on the corner of my lips. I feel like they're going to hear my heart; it beats, pounding a thousand times; bum-bum, bum-bum. A taxi awaits us; I enter first, and this extraordinary being who also smells fantastic follows after me. They hold my hand, tighten it, I do the same, their fingers touch my arm, they slide over it. The taxi driver probably senses the heat of what's going on behind, trying to see but unable to. We continue in silence, just an infernal desire and abdominal cramps on both sides.
We've arrived. The balls continue to do their effect, they shake and they shake me.
It's a beautiful house, designed by the birthday boy. How happy to see him, so many years since we were together. High school brought us together with moments that sealed our friendship. Hugs from both sides, they welcomed us. Almost no one has arrived yet, a couple of drinks, and I continue with that inside me, shaking my conscience. Minutes pass, hours pass, and the party gets stronger and stronger. There are already many people, alcohol begins to take its toll, guests arrive, greet, and I'm next to this character who has me all disoriented. They have told me details of their life, of their work experience in Bogotá, and what it means to be with a woman that the country loves for her roles on television. I've talked about my terrible relationship with the male gender, what I've learned to value more; my independence, the ups and downs, and the last frustrating "romantic" relationships of my life. We are getting more comfortable, and the truth is, I don't care if people observe our almost extravagant closeness. I'm letting myself go, they invite me to dance. A certain kind of music is playing that induces uncontrollable shivers. Touching, rising, falling, elevating, and falling again. People look at us. They are surprised, scandalized, and some may even be excited. I think if they are like me, they are surely on the verge of collapse. I like to be watched, it gives me a certain pleasure. No correction, a tremendous amount of pleasure. I didn't know I was an exhibitionist. I think that's what they call this act of wanting to disinhibit oneself without any prejudice in front of others. The truth, I am enjoying it, that other body that takes me and releases me, that smells me and speaks finely in my ear, makes my blood boil. Those round pieces continue in me, enjoying this dance that moves to the rhythm of the pulsations of my stomach, of my abdomen, of my most intimate parts. Now they take me by the hand, we continue to be the ocular target of all the attendees, who see in this couple only appetite and desire to devour the whole world.
They take me and lead me to one of the rooms of the great mansion. It’s simple with no more than two ornaments located in the place, and a large window facing the mountains where you can see the small lights of a city full of stories. A mid-sized bed and white cotton sheets that manage to touch my back once I let myself fall on them. There they are, on top of me, kneeling over me and with their arms stretched around my head, with their eyes piercing through mine, talking to me through them, that this will be our first time, that this will be our revenge for a lifetime of not wanting to see what was eternally twitching between our legs and we never wanted to feel. They grab my ass and bring me to the edge of the bed, leaving my vagina in the wind, spread me open, spread it open. They begin to very slowly remove my panties, with the gentleness I didn't know they had. I'm left to their mercy and they take the strap of that thing that's been rumbling in me all night. They pull, slowly, and a little moan slips out of my mouth... I contract. Then the other, as slowly as possible, and I'm free with a rather strange sensation. I got wet. They slide one of their fingers into me, then get up and licks it. I'm still lying there facing the front. They start to go up and kiss every inch of my abdomen. They nibble my tits over my blouse, touch them, feel them. Then they direct their gaze to my mouth and without thinking, without any hesitation, without even undressing, because we can't hold any more, comes straight to my lips and kisses me intensely and I respond as if it were the first time I've ever given a real kiss.
With the passion that only two women know how to do.
With the desire that for decades was kept silent.
I only know that she was the one who, in the end, gave me the joy of knowing myself and feeling like a woman.
