Chapter 40
In the back-and-forth of everyday life, chance took me down a street I rarely crossed. The traffic was heavy, people rushing around, horns blaring irritably, and in the middle of it all were those pushy flyer distributors, shoving papers at unwilling strangers. One got tossed my way. I looked impatiently at the guy doing his job without any enthusiasm. I hated getting handed stuff on the street.
Out of reflex, I almost crumpled it without reading, but something made me stop. The ad was unusual, provocative. A liberal house specializing in erotic shows, couple swapping, and pleasures I'd never imagined exploring. I let out a low laugh. Definitely not my scene.
Later, already sunk into a bar table with my best friend, the conversation followed its usual flow.
"So, what's up for the weekend? I can't spend much."
"Yeah, I'm broke too," I replied, swirling my glass on the table before remembering the flyer. "Check this out. I grabbed it on the street today."
I slid the paper over to her, and she picked it up without hurry, frowning as she read.
"What the fuck is this? Is this a whorehouse?" Her tone mixed laughter and surprise, but her eyes scanned me like she was trying to figure out my intention. "Girl, I'm no slut!"
"For God's sake, it's a swingers' club, not a brothel," I shot back, shaking my head. "They say the vibe is more... respectful."
"You're talking like you know," she arched an eyebrow, enjoying my hesitation.
"Who knows, I just heard. But look at this," I pointed to a part of the flyer. "Women get a pretty generous voucher to drink inside."
"Oh, now I get why you're interested. Free drinks, huh, you naughty thing?"
"I'm not gonna deny that's what caught my eye," I admitted, smiling. "But I confess I'm curious. Free booze and watching others fuck? Sounds like a different kind of entertainment."
"Girl, you're trouble!" She burst out laughing, but kept eyeing the flyer. Her silence was enough for me to know something there had sparked her interest.
I lowered my voice, leaning in a bit over the table.
"We could just go see what it's like... No one has to know."
"Hmm... what if someone sees us going in?"
"We dress normal, slip in quietly, and that's it. No need to join in on anything."
She bit her lip, thoughtful, then let out a resigned sigh.
"Alright. But total secrecy."
The plan was to dress normal, but we were two night sluts, our dresses seemed a size too small and missing a ton of fabric, high sandals, tons of makeup, and hair done in a rush. We were pretty girls, dressed like that, we drew way more attention.
That night, we arrived at the address on the flyer, but the initial excitement soon gave way to a palpable discomfort. The spot was in the city's commercial center, an area that, at that hour, took on a shady, dangerous vibe. Dark alleys hid restless shadows, while beggars and street toughs spread out on the sidewalks, staking territory in a silent knife war.
What brought us immediate relief was the bunch of cars parked haphazardly along the street. They were luxury rides, and out of their doors came elegantly dressed men in well-tailored suits and women who, curiously, wore overcoats, even though the night was far from cold.
"Why are all these sluts in overcoats?" my friend asked in a whisper, frowning.
"Stop calling women sluts, please?" I rolled my eyes, tugging her arm.
"Okay, but look at us... we look underdressed."
"We're not. Come on. It's right there."
I pointed to an old, worn-out building facade, where muffled club music leaked through the cracks of the heavy door. The place had no clear sign of what went on inside, but the discreet line of well-put-together people confirmed we'd hit the right spot.
At the entrance, a massive security guy, with muscles the size of my head, eyed us up and down. His gaze was blank, trained to screen entrants without showing emotion. We exchanged one last look of solidarity before crossing the door, picking up the pace like we were committing a crime. The fear of being recognized mixed with the thrill of the taboo. And then, we were in.
Inside, everything was different. The contrast between outside and in was almost absurd. The space was luxurious, full of strategic lights reflecting off shiny metals, creating a sophisticated, exclusive atmosphere. It was clear this wasn't a place for just anyone—and definitely not for us.
People headed to counters where elegantly dressed receptionists handled them with a natural ease that escaped us. The ritual seemed rehearsed, almost bureaucratic, but to me it was weird. The feeling of being out of place only grew as I watched the confidence of the other regulars.
We got in one of the lines, and when it was our turn, a guy waited on us. He sized us up quick and smiled slyly, reading our insecurity right away.
"You ladies have never been to a place like this, have you?"
"No, sir," my friend answered, still glancing around. "This isn't dangerous, is it?"
He let out a low chuckle, not mocking, just like someone who's heard that question before.
"If I say it's not, you won't believe me anyway. So, best to see for yourselves. Think of it this way: security, privacy, and respect are what bring people here. Without any of those three, this place wouldn't be so packed. Look around."
We did what he suggested. Sure enough, the space was crowded, and no one seemed uncomfortable. Men and women moved through the hall with an almost magnetic confidence, chatting, laughing, flirting. The vibe, though loaded with sensuality, wasn't pushy.
The attendant grabbed two bracelets and slipped them on our wrists. The light, mechanical touch snapped my friend out of the daze she seemed in.
"Hey, sir, don't put the single one on me. They'll wanna fuck me! Give me the married one."
The guy raised an eyebrow, clearly used to that kind of reaction. Before he could reply, my friend cut in.
"Oh, stop it! I'm not a dyke, go ahead and put the single one on me, sir."
He laughed again, but this time with real amusement.
"Relax, ladies. Here, no one does anything without consent. If anyone bothers you, just let me know."
I looked at my friend, who still seemed to be processing it all, and sighed. Now that we were inside, there was no turning back. And as we stepped in, the world opened up in new colors and rhythms. I thought it'd be some Sodom and Gomorrah, but no, people were just having fun and drinking. The women there wore way bolder outfits than us, and the men stared openly, laughing but without that animalistic edge common in guy behavior. There were bars in every area, and man, there were areas. You could get lost in there in a blink.
The two booze hounds, without wasting time, headed straight for the bar. The plan was simple: make the most of that generous voucher that had convinced us to come in. But the illusion didn't last long. When we saw the menu, reality hit hard. Yeah, the voucher was fat... but so were the drink prices. A cocktail cost almost a third of what I made in a day's work.
"We got scammed!" my friend exclaimed, pissed.
"Switch to economy mode, girl. War strategy. We sip slow."
Resigned, we made our first toast and headed to the dance floor. If we couldn't get hammered, at least we could have fun. And we did. We danced like no one was watching, like the world was ours, laughing nonstop, letting loose body and mind. But little by little, things around us started to shift. The vibe, before just party-like, picked up a different intensity. Little touches, loaded looks, whispers that came too close.
Men and women started approaching with propositions that made us blush. The upside was, along with the pick-up lines, they always brought drinks. We accepted the cocktails like it was just a nice gesture, but really it was an excuse to stall any real answer.
At first, we thought it was all hilarious. We laughed nervously, swapped knowing looks, and shook our heads, turning them down politely. But with every advance, every intense stare and suggestive smile, the feeling that we were playing with fire got clearer.
When things heated up too much, we bolted. It was always the same routine: one would look at the other, widen her eyes, and yank her arm.
"Come on, come on, let's hit the other side!"
And that's how we bounced from one spot to another, like there was some truly "safe" space inside that place for two curious girls who didn't exactly know how far they wanted to go. But the truth was, with every sip and every new advance, the game got more intriguing.
We saw people doing stuff. Some were straight-up fucking on tables in the corners of the hall, out in the open for anyone who wanted to watch. And of course, we watched it all. The sex there wasn't just about pleasure; it was a show. Bodies moved with provocative intensity, like they wanted to be admired, desired. The air pulsed with raw energy, full of husky voices, moans, and hungry stares.
I was already totally hooked on the atmosphere when I felt a soft touch on my arm. I turned and came face-to-face with a woman who looked like she stepped out of a fantasy. Way too beautiful, with an almost unreal allure. Her body, practically naked under thin, teasing fabric, radiated confidence. She had intense eyes, like she knew exactly the effect she had on people.
"Hey, you two enjoying it here?" she asked, her voice low and inviting.
"Yeah, it's really cool," I replied, already kinda buzzed, not even trying to hide my fascination.
My friend leaned to my ear, whispering urgently.
"Girl, she wants to fuck us."
The words pulled a nervous laugh from me, but before I could process, the stranger kept going.
"Look, my husband wants to have a little private party in that room over there, just us. He loves watching me get into something hotter with other women. We can talk it over properly... you in?"
She was polite, sweet, direct. And for a moment, something in me wavered. Part of me wanted to stay, wanted to at least think about the offer. But before I could even form a coherent thought, my friend jumped in.
"No, thanks!"
And without giving me time to hesitate, she yanked my arm, laughing like it was the most ridiculous thing ever.
We ended up in a narrow hallway, with doors real close to each other. Without thinking much, we picked one and went in, using the space as a hideout. Truth was, we needed to breathe. And mostly, rest. The shoes were killing us.
I leaned against the wall, trying to catch my breath, while my friend massaged her own ankles.
"Girl, I'm wiped," she murmured, laughing softly.
"What the hell is this place?"
It was a cramped little room, super dark. We could barely see each other. The air smelled musty, like dust and mold, as if the space rarely got aired out.
While my eyes tried to adjust to the dark, my friend let out a yelp that nearly made me jump.
"Girl, look at this!"
She was pointing to the wall, where there was a perfect round hole, at just the right height for something very specific.
"Is this a glory hole?"
I blinked a few times, trying to believe what I saw.
"That thing where guys stick their dick through for someone to suck?"
"Yeah, girl."
The initial shock lasted just seconds before we cracked up. The laughter echoed in the tiny room, loose and fun. We started cracking jokes about the chance of a cock popping out of nowhere, debating how much guts it'd take to shove your own dick into an unknown hole.
But we didn't even finish the jokes.
Like we'd summoned some perverted spirit, an erect cock pushed through the hole, coming from the other side without warning. The laughter died instantly. A weird silence settled, and all we heard was our own held breath. The vibe, before chill, got tense in a second. Until, unable to hold it, my friend let out a nervous giggle. And then it was impossible to hold back. Between shock and disbelief, we exploded into laughter again.
"And now, what do we do?" My voice came out shaky, between disbelief and the urge to laugh.
My friend, without missing a beat, had the most ridiculous idea.
"Take a pic of me!" She positioned herself by the hole, pretending to suck it, mouth open with an over-the-top seductive look.
I laughed, but my eyes went back to what was right there in front of us.
"I'll grab it, huh..."
"You're crazy!" She widened her eyes, but didn't do anything to stop me.
And I grabbed it.
Oh my God.
It was too pretty. Could easily be mistaken for a plastic one, it was so perfect, but the difference was huge. Warm, throbbing, alive in my hand. A mix of curiosity and adrenaline rushed through me, and I looked at my friend, laughing, waiting for some reaction, a sign of okay or no.
But she just stared at me, frozen.
"You're nuts..." she whispered, unable to look away. "What if it has something, girl?"
"Girl, it's like buying fish. If the head's pink, it's healthy. Safe to eat."
She burst out laughing, and my totally dumb excuse seemed to convince her. The laughter eased some tension, and I saw her relax a bit.
"You're bad news," she shook her head, still laughing.
"Bernardo liked when I jerked him off like this," I commented, referring to an ex-boyfriend, as my fingers instinctively slid along the member that was still there, still, waiting.
She looked at me surprised, but didn't say anything. Just watched.
To show how he liked it, I gripped that dick firm, almost choking it, pinching the base right below the head between my thumb and finger. Then I started a rhythmic motion, slow, a careful massage I already knew worked.
"It's dry, girl. Spit."
"You're nuts? I'm not spitting on a dick I don't know! What if the owner doesn't like spit on it!"
I rolled my eyes, holding back a laugh.
"Girl, if he cared about his dick, he wouldn't stick it in a hole for anyone to suck."
That was enough to send us both into hysterics. The absurdity of it all just made it even funnier.
"Come on, you do it, go ahead," I urged, giving her a light push.
She hesitated a second, but curiosity won. She grabbed it with both hands, and it was clear right away she had more skill than me. Her touch was more natural, fingers sliding with precision, and she kept the rhythmic motion going like it was the most normal thing.
I watched, intrigued, until I threw out the tease.
"Got the guts to put your mouth on it?"
She, focused on the task, laughed.
"Who knows..."
"Go on... I wanna see how you suck! Teach me, you're sluttier than me."
"Oh, girl, fuck off!"
Without thinking, she swung at me, using the guy's own dick as a weapon. The hit was kinda clumsy, but we knew on the other side of the wall, someone felt way more than a light smack. We exploded into another fit of laughter, while the mystery of who was there kept going. And in the middle of the play, things heated up every second, and without a word, she shoved the cockhead into her mouth.
She covered her teeth with her lips, twisting down to her throat, then pulling back straight, letting drool slide that lubed up the hand movements. That got me so fucking turned on. She switched speeds and how deep she took it. I wanted to figure out her logic so I could learn. She seemed so natural...
"Your turn?"
"No," I said firmly, but inside dying to put my mouth on it.
"For real? Come on, fuck!"
And then, I grabbed it again.
I've always had my own way of doing that. Never been one for shows, never needed exaggerations. For me, sucking a guy has always been less about impressing him and more about my own pleasure. Maybe that's why I like it so much. I like feeling the texture and heat on my lips, exploring slow, savoring every detail. I like watching the little body twitches, involuntary reactions to a firmer suck, an unexpected squeeze. I like the taste. The wet touch, the mix of spit and desire dripping on my skin. I like the hardness against the softness of my mouth. I like losing myself in the rhythm, the slow slide and the exact pressure that makes the other lose control.
And there, in that dark, clandestine space, it felt even more intense. More forbidden. More exciting.
Time seemed to fold in on itself, and on the other side of the wall, the owner of that dick started writhing. His body shook, and it was impossible not to notice the spasms getting more intense.
"Whoa, girl, he's gonna cum! Come on, come on!"
"I don't wanna take a load to the face, no!"
"Come on! That way we can say we sucked a dick together!"
She hesitated a second, but the taunt was enough. Laughing, she came to my side, and there we were, sharing that unknown dick. Each on one side, sucking as best we could. No sync at all. Every now and then our heads bumped, which made us laugh even harder. But even through the laughs and clumsiness, the pace picked up.
Then, we felt it.
The unmistakable tremor. The frantic pulsing between our lips. We knew what was coming next.
We pulled back at the right moment, protecting our hair, clothes, and makeup. And that's when we saw it. A strong, hot jet shot from that anonymous dick, a scene that would've been ridiculous if it wasn't so unbelievably fun.
The laughter came loud, spontaneous, full of adrenaline.
For a bit, the dick stayed there, available for our now less serious games. Until, like it had fulfilled its mission, it started to soften. It wilted slow, and with one last move, slid back through the hole, vanishing like an animal retreating to its den.
We stayed there, still kinda out of breath, laughing at what we'd just done.
"Girl, that was insane."
"We're so brave, girl."
Embarrassed but secretly proud at the same time, we touched up our makeup right there, fixed our hair, and slipped our shoes back on.
"Girl, that's enough, right? Let's head out?"
"Yeah, I'm tired too."
We opened the door and stepped out... and then we realized. Something was off.
Outside, a crowd. Men and women pressed in, laughing slyly, watching us with amused glints in their eyes. There were whispers, exchanged looks, and the feeling that everyone knew exactly what we'd done.
My stomach dropped.
My friend nudged me, pointing to the booth we'd come out of.
"Fuck... I can't believe it..."
I stopped and looked.
There they were. Small frosted glass windows, placed just right so anyone outside could watch the show inside.
In the rush to get in, in the dark where we'd been, we hadn't noticed.
Everyone had seen.
Everyone saw us two, blowing a total stranger. And from the looks, that was a big deal around there, 'cause some were even clapping.
We didn't think twice.
We ran out, into the world beyond those doors. And we laughed, laughed so hard we could barely breathe, because in the end, it had been a wild ride. A delicious madness we'd never forget.