I Stayed Topless Between Two Strangers
Hello again. This time I’m the one writing, Nerea, and I’m the one who has something to confess. If you read what Lola said in the previous story, you already have an idea of what I’m like: black curly hair, short and slim, and breasts that stand out far more than you’d expect from my size. They’re big for how little the rest of me takes up; I always say, half jokingly, that they need big hands to get around them, hands that squeeze them hard, that pinch my nipples until I’m gasping. And, for the last few months, Lola and I have thrown ourselves headfirst into this exhibitionism thing.
What I’m going to tell you is the first time I really went for it, without a safety net. Up to then it had all been little games, stolen looks, the occasional extra-unbuttoned button on the bus. That night was different.
I dressed in a black top with a very deep V-neck, one of those that frames the breasts in an almost scandalous way. I paired it with a black skirt in the same style, not too short, but one that felt sexy and elegant at the same time. And although I hesitated for a long while in front of the mirror, I decided to take the risk and not wear a bra. The top held enough, as long as I didn’t move too much, though from one side you could practically see everything. I did, however, put on a small lace thong. I didn’t feel comfortable with nothing down there, and besides, I knew that when the time came, I could take it off in a second if I felt like it. Even as I put it on, I could feel my cunt getting wet just thinking about what I was going to do.
The place was a bar, or a pub, or whatever you want to call it, one of those places that put on small concerts inside the venue. When I arrived, the room was already fairly full, but there was little light, except when some colored spotlight swept across the stage. A couple of people noticed me as I came in, though in general nobody paid me any attention: everyone was focused on the stage, where the band was finishing setting up their instruments, or shouting over the background music.
I looked for a corner away from the crowd, but still visible, and sat on a high stool beside a small table. I wanted to be where I could be seen and, at the same time, where nobody would look directly. Shortly after, almost all the lights went down, the concert started, and my corner was left almost in darkness.
Almost immediately, two guys who had already looked at me before came over. They started talking to me with that filler conversation that makes it very clear they couldn’t care less about the talking part. They dragged over two other stools and sat down, one on each side of me.
They were two ordinary-looking guys, maybe slightly athletic, and both taller than me, though that wasn’t hard. Half-turned toward me as they spoke, the two of them blocked much of the room, though I could still see the stage over their shoulders. Not that I cared in the slightest.
“Do you come here often?” the one on the right asked, trying to sound interested.
“First time,” I replied, and I caught the double meaning even if they didn’t.
The one on the left chuckled under his breath and said something about the band, how good they sounded, some throwaway thing to keep themselves there a while longer. I nodded without really listening. All my attention was somewhere else: in the sensation of fabric against bare skin, in my nipples already hard and rubbing against the top, in how exposed I felt and how little that scared me that night.
During the conversation I acted pretty indifferent, not encouraging anything, but not as if they were annoying me either. The truth is I was very nervous. If I want to forget all this and leave, I can still do it. That’s what I kept telling myself. But every time their eyes dropped to my cleavage or my legs as they talked, I felt a rush of arousal go straight down to my cunt, and I could feel the thong getting wetter and wetter. So I decided to start with what I had planned at home.
While the two of them kept their eyes fixed on me, I grabbed the top by the sides and pulled slightly downward. Since I wasn’t wearing a bra, my tits were even more exposed, and for a few seconds you could see the areolas peeking over the edge of the fabric, with my nipples already hardened and clearly outlined. They got aroused at once. They leaned closer, suddenly bolder. The one on my left rested a hand on my hip, and the other, seeing that I looked at that hand and didn’t move it away, immediately copied him.
I could feel both hands roaming over my skin, with little squeezes every few seconds, moving up my waist, down to my thigh, testing how far they could go. I took a quick look around the room: everyone was focused on the band, nobody was looking toward our dark corner. I leaned back, shifted the stool a little, and with a gesture told them to face me more directly.
They did, a little confused, and put their hands back on my thighs, though now they already sensed something was about to happen. With the two of them so close and both so tall, even if someone looked over there they wouldn’t see anything: at most, the backs of two guys pressed close together. I took a deep breath, my heart pounding, and I took off my top.
My tits came out, bouncing slightly as they were freed from the fabric, white and firm in the dim light, with the nipples pointing out hard as stones. They stared at them, mesmerized, for two eternal seconds, mouths slightly open. I folded the top and set it on the table. Trembling with nerves, I took the hands they had free and brought them straight to my breasts.
The reaction was immediate. Their hands squeezed with some force, completely enclosing my tits, fingers digging into the flesh, thumbs rubbing my nipples hard, alternating between stroking and pinching. One of them suddenly bent down and trapped one nipple in his mouth, sucking hard, nibbling it, while his hand crushed the other breast. The other, seeing that, did the same with the free nipple. A muffled moan slipped out of me as I felt two mouths working me at once, tongues circling around my nipples, lips sucking as if they wanted to eat me whole. And, without me expecting it, the hands on my thighs moved too, slipping under my skirt, almost fighting over space.
I hiked up my skirt a little and spread my legs as far as I could on that stool. With my own hands I guided their fingers to where I wanted them. I pushed my thong aside and showed them how soaked I was. One of them muttered, “Fuck, look at you,” under his breath before shoving two fingers into me at once. The other wasted no time slipping his in too, and I ended up with fingers from different hands going in and out of my cunt, moving out of sync, each one finding his own rhythm, while a third pair rubbed my clit in quick, insistent circles. I leaned back, pressing my spine against the cold wall, feeling my juice run down the insides of my thighs, soaking the skirt underneath. I tried not to moan too loudly. I didn’t quite manage, though the music drowned out any sound that slipped from me.
“Fuck, you came in so quiet,” one of them murmured, his voice against my ear, without stopping the fingers inside me. “What a tight cunt you’ve got, girl.”
“She’s soaked, look at her,” the other told him, pulling his shining fingers out and pushing them back in. “She loves getting fucked here, in front of everyone.”
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. My eyes were closed and all my attention was on what was happening between my legs and on my chest, on those four hands and two mouths working on my half-naked body in the middle of a room full of people. The one on the right began to curl his fingers inside me, searching for that spot in front, and when he found it I was almost shouting. The other wasn’t behind: he pinched my nipple hard while sliding in another finger, three at once, opening me up, fingering me at the same rhythm as his partner.
What excited me most wasn’t even the touch, though it was intense. It was the idea. Knowing that, just a few meters away, dozens of people were looking toward the stage without suspecting a thing, that anyone could turn around and see that topless girl with two strangers working her over to the hilt. That very thin border between secrecy and scandal was exactly what I’d been looking for for months without knowing how to name it. And at last I was crossing it.
The truth is it didn’t last as long as I would have liked. But there I was: topless in public, with two mouths devouring my tits and four fingers buried in my cunt while a thumb tormented my clit, and with so much stimulation all at once I couldn’t hold out for long. I started trembling all over, feeling everything inside me tighten, the walls of my cunt clenching around their fingers. I came with a long shudder, biting the back of my own hand so I wouldn’t cry out, while they kept moving their fingers inside me, stretching out my orgasm until I could almost not stand it. My legs shook uncontrollably and I had to grip the edge of the stool so I wouldn’t slip. I felt myself come, soaking their hand, dripping down my ass to the seat.
They kept playing with my body for a couple more minutes, still excited, pulling out their shining fingers and taking them to their mouths to suck them, looking for more. But I decided to stop when I saw that one of them had pulled his cock out of his pants beneath the table. It was hard, thick, pointing upward, and he was stroking it slowly while looking at my breasts still out in the open. If he had done it before I finished, maybe I would have put it in my mouth right there, under the table, and maybe I would even have let him come on my tits. At that moment, however, the common sense that had slipped away from me a little while earlier came flooding back all at once.
I put my top back on, adjusted my skirt, and told them that for tonight it was over.
“Seriously? Just like that?” protested the one on the right, cock still out. “Look at how hard I’ve got it, girl, you can’t leave me like this.”
“Just like that,” I answered, smiling. “Maybe another day I’ll suck it all the way. Not today.”
They accepted it grudgingly. They asked for my number and, though I didn’t give it to them, I did ask for theirs, in case I ever changed my mind. They left the venue with me and walked me to a taxi, behaving more or less decently, with a bit of goodbye touching — a hand slipping under my skirt and pinching my ass, another squeezing a breast over the top — which didn’t bother me in the slightest. After that I got into the car and went home still with my heart racing and my thong soaked through, stuck to my cunt.
***
During the ride I couldn’t stop looking at my hands, which still smelled like them, and reliving every second. I couldn’t believe I had really done it, me, who months earlier would have blushed just imagining it. As soon as I walked through the door I got into bed, pulled down my soaked thong, and made myself come again with my fingers, thinking about the two mouths sucking my tits and the hard cock that had been offered to me and that I never got to taste. When I got home I sent Lola a very short message: “I did it. I’ll tell you tomorrow.” She took three seconds to reply with a string of exclamation marks that made me laugh alone in the dark of my room.
That night was a while ago now. For one reason and another I hadn’t been able to sit down and write it until now, though I’ve got quite a bit more to tell, things that happened afterward and went even further. I hope that, brief as it was, you enjoyed this confession. If you have any advice, about writing or about the other thing, or any idea you want to propose to us, you know how to reach us. A little kiss!