amiga de mi hermana: The Best Exclusive Story

So my sister’s friend, that’s the amiga de mi hermana I’m talking about, came over one lazy Sunday while my sister was out running errands, and what started as just us splitting a six-pack on the couch turned into something I still think about when I’m trying to fall asleep. Natalia’s always been the quiet, petite one with this shy smile, but once we got talking, she kept inching closer until her knee pressed against mine, and I swear the air got thick. She smelled like coconut lotion and cheap beer, and when she kissed me, it was slow at first, almost testing, then hungrier, her hands already tugging at my shirt. We didn’t even make it to the bedroom—just fumbled onto the rug, clothes half-off, her laughing softly when I knocked over a lamp. I remember the way she breathed my name, the warm weight of her legs around my waist, how she pulled me deeper like she’d been waiting weeks for this. When I finished inside her, she held me there, tracing my shoulder, and we just lay in the afternoon light, sticky and quiet, listening to the neighbor’s dog bark. Afterwards she grabbed a towel and said we should probably do this again before my sister gets home, and honestly, I’m still not sure if that was a joke or not.