What I Did at My Bachelorette Party I Never Told Him
There was a week left before my wedding and my friends insisted on throwing me the bachelorette party that, according to them, was going to remind me who I was before I signed the paper. They rented a big house on the outskirts, one of those with a pool and a huge living room, far from any neighbor who might complain. They brought food, too many bottles, music, and a bag of gifts that were embarrassing just to look at: rubber dildos, fuzzy handcuffs, a deck of cards with illustrated positions. Women only. That was the condition.
My name is Carola, although that night I stopped feeling like Carola at some point I still can’t pinpoint exactly.
We started early, with the usual round of old photos, toasts, and jokes about my future husband. My mother was there for a while, also two aunts and a couple of cousins, but all of them had the decency to leave before things got intense. Around one in the morning it was just the inner circle left: my college friends, my cousin Daniela, and two coworkers. We were tipsy, not drunk, but in that state where you laugh at anything and let your guard down without realizing it.
And then they turned off the lights.
They sat me in a chair in the middle of the living room, right under the lamp, as if I were the prize in a raffle. Catchy, loud music started up, and from a corner some disco lights Renata had installed in secret switched on. I didn’t understand a thing until the back door opened and four men in tuxedos walked in.
—Don’t do this to me! —I yelled, laughing and covering my face.
—You deserve it, future Mrs. —Renata said, and they all clapped.
They were spectacular. Not your typical catalog dancer, but four real guys, with trained bodies and that confidence of people who know they’re being watched and enjoy it. They started moving around me and little by little began taking off their clothes. First the jacket, which they threw into the air to the shrieks of my friends. Then the shirt, button by button, looking me straight in the eyes as if the rest of the room didn’t exist.
I was embarrassed. Being in the center of everything made my stomach clench with shame, but I couldn’t stop looking at them. When they pulled down their pants and were left in tiny thongs, I felt my face heat up and a wet tug between my legs I could no longer ignore. My panties stuck to my cunt and I spread my thighs a little, relieved that the skirt of my dress covered what I was feeling.
—Touch it, it doesn’t bite —one of them whispered in my ear, taking my hand and pressing it to his abdomen.
And I touched him. His skin was firm, his muscles defined, not a single hair, as if they’d polished him for the occasion. Little by little I started to relax. I ran my hands over their chests, over their backs, and when one of them turned around and bent over, I dared to grab his ass, hard as stone. My friends screamed every time I did it, and that, instead of making me more embarrassed, loosened me up. One of them took my hand and put it right on the bulge in his thong. I felt the hot chunk of flesh throbbing beneath the fabric and a gasp escaped me, swallowed in time by the music.
***
Out of the four, there was one who stayed with me longer than he should have. He was dark-haired, young, couldn’t have been more than twenty-five, with a smile that seemed to say things the music kept hidden. While the other three divided their attention among the rest of the girls, he kept coming back to my chair, as if everything else were just a formality and I were what really interested him.
He sat on my lap, facing away at first, moving slowly, rubbing his ass against my cunt with a rhythm that was driving me crazy, and then he turned to face me, straddling me, his cock pointing straight at my belly. The tiny bit of fabric he wore didn’t hide a thing, and I, emboldened by the alcohol and my friends’ laughter, hooked my fingers in the waistband and pulled it down a little.
I swallowed. I couldn’t help it. What peered out was huge, thick, the head glossy and red, with a clear drop hanging from the tip. Seeing it so close to my face made me lose track of what was happening around me.
—Do you like what you see? —he asked, his mouth against my ear.
I didn’t answer with words. I took him in my hand, hairless, soft, warm, and squeezed until I felt him pulsing against my palm. I slowly pulled back his foreskin, and that drop stayed stuck to my thumb. He looked at me with an expression I wanted to believe was sincere, though part of me knew it was probably part of the job, part of the act. At that moment I didn’t care. His hands found the zipper on my dress and opened it just enough to knead my breasts over my bra. Seeing I wasn’t stopping him, he slipped a hand under the cup and pinched my nipple between his index finger and thumb, twisting it in the same rhythm with which I was stroking his cock.
I could feel it growing between my fingers, the veins standing out, the skin stretched tight, and that had me hypnotized. I glanced sideways for a second and realized no one was paying attention to me anymore.
***
My friends were in their own world. Daniela had one of the guys practically on top of her, his hand inside her pants, biting her lip; Renata was laughing her ass off while another danced for her with his cock out, brushing her cheek; and the coworkers formed a tangle of arms and legs where it was no longer possible to tell whose body belonged to whom. The music was still loud. The lights were still spinning. Nobody was watching us.
I had a flash of lucidity. I stopped. I gently pushed his hand away and said:
—Wait. Let’s dance a bit, better.
—Whatever you want —he replied, still flirting—. But I’ll warn you, nobody’s watching us.
I looked around again. He was right. We were on an island in the middle of the room, invisible, as if the party had dissolved and only he and I were left under that light. He took my hand. Just a little longer, I told myself, just until the door. But my feet followed on their own.
We slipped down the hallway to one of the rooms at the back. He closed the door with his foot and suddenly the music was far away, muffled, like a heartbeat behind the wall. In that relative silence everything became more real and more dangerous at the same time.
—We shouldn’t —I said, though I was already pressing against him, searching for his cock with my hip.
—Then tell me to stop —he replied, biting my neck.
I didn’t say it.
***
He finished pulling my dress off without hurry, letting it fall to the floor. He kissed my neck, my shoulders, worked his way down my neckline and stripped me with a patience that made me nervous, because it gave me time to think and at the same time didn’t let me stop. He unhooked my bra in one pull and my tits fell free against his chest. He bent down to suck one nipple, first with the tip of his tongue, then taking the whole thing into his mouth and sucking hard, while with his other hand he pinched the other one. I pressed him against my face, arching my back, and felt my panties get soaked all at once. Every time my head tried to remind me that I was getting married in a week, his mouth found a new place and the thought dissolved.
He laid me back on the bed. He yanked my panties off, looked at them for a second, soaked in his hand, and threw them on the floor. He opened my legs with both hands, without ceremony, and stared at my open cunt like he had never seen one before. I tried to close them in embarrassment, but he held my thighs and lowered his face.
—You’re dripping —he murmured, and blew on me before licking.
He ran his tongue over me in one full pass, from bottom to top, slowly, stopping at the clit to suck it between his lips like candy. I arched and grabbed his head without thinking, pressing it harder against my cunt. He slipped two fingers in and started moving them in and out while he licked me, searching for that soft spot where a woman breaks, and he found it fast. I came in his mouth the first time without warning, screaming into the pillow, my legs trembling over his shoulders. He didn’t even stop. He kept licking while I shook, stretching the orgasm until I pushed his face away because I couldn’t take it anymore.
—We’re not done yet —he said, coming up with his mouth shining.
He knelt between my legs and wrapped his hand around his cock. It was rock hard, thick, and he ran it over the lips of my cunt, rubbing it up and down, wetting the tip with my slick. I lifted my hips toward it, shameless now, and he smiled when he saw how badly I wanted it inside me. He shoved it in with one thrust, all the way to the hilt, and a moan escaped me that I covered with my hand.
—Don’t hold back —he murmured, pulling almost all the way out before driving it into me again—. Nobody here knows you.
And he was right again. In there I wasn’t the bride, I wasn’t Carola, I wasn’t the woman who would try on the white dress the next day. I was just a wet cunt ready to be fucked, nameless and guiltless, at least for that hour.
He started fucking me hard, gripping my hips, with those dry, heavy blows that made my tits and the headboard tremble. The room filled with the wet noise of his cock going in and out, the clash of our skin, my gasps that I no longer bothered to hide. He turned me over onto my stomach, lifted my ass with both hands, and fucked me from behind, holding my waist, taking me as if he needed to leave a mark. I buried my face in the pillow and pushed back against his thrusts, offering my ass, asking for more without words.
—That’s it, slut, give me that pussy —he growled in my ear, and instead of offending me, I squeezed harder around his cock.
Then he made me ride him, seated on top, his hands squeezing my tits while I went up and down. I could see the look on his face, the open mouth, the eyes fixed on the point where our sex met, and for the first time that night I felt powerful. I came again like that, moving over him, feeling his cock fill me completely, and when his thighs started trembling I knew he was close too.
He lifted me, laid me on my back again, pulled his cock out of my cunt and held it with both hands right above my belly. He came with a long grunt, thick hot spurts that splashed onto my tits and stomach, so many I was surprised by how much he’d been holding back. He tucked the tip between my breasts and squeezed them around it, pressing the last drops against my neck. I ran a finger over the stained skin, looked at him, and brought it to my mouth, not entirely sure where that boldness was coming from.
—Goddamn —he said, still breathing hard—. Your husband’s lucky.
***
After that we stayed silent for a moment, catching our breath, the music in the background reminding me that the party was still going on outside. He sat up first, wiped the semen from my belly with a towel he pulled from somewhere, gave me a kiss on the forehead that felt more intimate than everything before, and got dressed with the same natural ease with which he had walked into my life an hour earlier.
—Good luck with the wedding —he said from the doorway, with a half smile.
I didn’t know if it was irony or sincerity. I didn’t ask.
When I went back to the living room, I fixed my dress and hair as best I could, still with weak legs and sensitive nipples brushing the fabric. Nobody noticed anything, or nobody wanted to. Renata put an arm around my shoulders and asked if I’d had a good time, laughing with sleep- and alcohol-heavy eyes. I told her yes, that it had been the best bachelorette party in the world, and I wasn’t lying.
A week later I got married. I walked down the aisle in the white dress I had tried on the day after the party, smiled for the photos, cried when I was supposed to cry, and vowed what I was supposed to vow. I love my husband. I really do.
But there are nights when, while he sleeps beside me, I slip my hand between my legs and that back room comes flooding back to me, the silence behind the door and a voice against my ear telling me nobody was watching us. I remember the weight of that cock inside me, the salty taste in my mouth, how I came without guilt for the first time in years. It was mine, mine alone, and it’s the only secret I plan to take with me without ever telling anyone.
