I never planned on fucking my best friend that night, but the storm trapped us in her tiny apartment in Quezon City and the air turned thick with want.
Ana and I had been drinking cheap San Miguel since sunset, laughing about exes and work until the rain pounded so hard we couldn’t hear the TV. She was twenty-five like me, all soft curves and long black hair that stuck to her neck when she got hot. I’d always noticed the way her tits pushed against her tank tops, but I’d kept it buried.
We were on her narrow bed, legs tangled under the sheet because the fan died. “It’s too fucking hot,” she muttered, peeling off her shorts. She wore nothing underneath. Her smooth brown pussy lips glistened in the lightning flashes. My mouth went dry. I stared. She caught me.
“Like what you see, ha?” Her voice was low, teasing, but her nipples had gone tight under the thin cotton.
I swallowed. “Yeah. I do.”
Ana didn’t laugh it off. She rolled onto her side, one leg sliding over mine so her thigh pressed right against my crotch. I was already wet through my panties. “Then touch it,” she said. “I’ve wanted your fingers for months.”
My hand shook when I reached between her legs. She was slick and hot, folds parting easily. I dragged two fingers up her slit and she hissed, hips pushing forward. “Fuck, Maria, just like that.” I rubbed her clit in slow circles, watching her face. Her eyes fluttered shut, mouth open, little moans slipping out in Tagalog mixed with English—“Tangina, ang sarap… don’t stop.”
I pushed two fingers inside her. She was tight, walls clenching around me, so I pumped slow and deep while my thumb kept working her swollen nub. Ana grabbed my wrist and fucked herself on my hand, tits bouncing with every thrust. “Harder,” she begged. I curled my fingers and she came with a sharp cry, pussy pulsing, juices running down my palm.
She didn’t even catch her breath before she yanked my shorts off. “My turn.” Her mouth was on my cunt in seconds—hot, greedy, tongue lapping broad and flat before she sucked my clit. I arched off the bed, fingers in her hair. “Shit, Ana—your tongue feels so fucking good.” She moaned into me, the vibration shooting straight up my spine. Two fingers slid inside me without warning, stretching me open while she licked and sucked like she was starving.
I came fast, thighs shaking around her head, but she didn’t stop. She flipped me onto my stomach, pulled my hips up, and buried her face between my ass cheeks. Her tongue dragged over my asshole then back to my dripping hole, eating me from behind until I was sobbing into the pillow. “Come again,” she ordered, voice muffled. “I want you shaking.”
She kept going until my second orgasm ripped through me, wetter than the first, soaking the sheet. Then she climbed up, straddled my thigh, and ground her soaked pussy against me. We rocked together, skin slapping, both of us panting filthy encouragement—“Gusto ko ‘to,” “Fuck my cunt harder,” “Come on my leg, putangina.” When she came she bit my shoulder, leaving teeth marks.
We didn’t sleep. We switched positions all night—her riding my face while I tongue-fucked her, me scissoring her until our clits rubbed raw and slick, fingers in each other’s asses while we kissed deep and messy. By morning we were covered in sweat and come, the storm still raging outside. Ana kissed me slow, tasting herself on my lips.
“Next time,” she whispered, “we use my vibrator too.”
I smiled against her mouth. “Next time is in ten minutes.”
We didn’t leave the bed until the rain stopped.
