I Told Her About My Adventure and She Wanted to Come to the Rave

It was the end of November, and Rome’s air had that damp cold that seeps into your bones when you walk home at dawn. A month had passed since the night with Dario at the Vortex, and no matter how hard I tried to act normal at university and in the flat, my mind kept going back to the same place: to that huge cock, to how he had split me open without asking permission, to how he had made me feel dirty and desired at the same time. I wasn’t the girl who had arrived from Seville with a suitcase full of good intentions anymore. Now I wanted more. I wanted to feel overwhelmed again.

My flatmate was called Carmen. Galician, from a village near Pontevedra. Twenty-three years old, very fair skin with freckles scattered across her nose, brown hair with reddish highlights that fell straight to the middle of her back, green eyes that always seemed to be looking somewhere else. She was slender, almost fragile: narrow waist, long but thin legs, small firm breasts that barely filled a B-cup bra. She usually wore loose clothes or oversized jumpers, as if she were trying to disappear inside the fabric. She spoke little, watched a lot. When she laughed, she did it softly, almost as if apologizing. But when she let herself go… fuck, how she let herself go. She had broken up with her boyfriend of a lifetime three months earlier and since then she had been living in some kind of torpor: looking at Tinder, looking at guys on the bus, but never making the first move. Until I told her about Dario.

That night, over bottles of Peroni on the terrace of the flat in Trastevere, I told her everything without filters. How he had fucked my mouth against the bathroom wall, how he had split me in two against the bar sink, how I had felt every hot spurt inside me. Carmen listened in silence, biting her lip, her cheeks flushed. In the end she said, in a whisper:

—Fuck… I’ve never felt anything like that. It pisses me off.

I looked at her straight on.

—Then come with me tonight. There’s a rave in an abandoned warehouse in Ostiense. Dark techno, weird people, until sunrise. If Dario shows up, I’ll introduce you. And if he doesn’t, we’ll find something for ourselves.

She stayed quiet for a while, looking at the black Tiber between the bridges. Then she nodded slowly.

—Okay. But don’t leave me alone for too long, yeah?

We got ourselves ready in the flat. I went all in: black see-through lace bodysuit that showed my nipples and belly-button piercing, frayed denim miniskirt that barely covered my ass, military boots up to the knee, and deliberately smeared eyeliner. Carmen took half an hour in front of the wardrobe. In the end she chose a tight black dress, but one that reached mid-thigh, with a high neck and long sleeves, and an almost bare back that left her pale skin on show without a single mark. Low heels, hair loose, a little gloss on her lips. She looked like the shy, elegant version of a girl who was going to devour the night without anyone seeing it coming.

We got to the warehouse around half past two. The queue was short but intense: masks, vinyl, piercings in strange places, the smell of weed mixed with sweat. Carmen squeezed my hand, not bothering to hide her nerves. We paid and the bass crushed us the moment we crossed the door. Industrial techno, dark, with those kicks that massage your stomach. We went straight onto the dance floor. I danced shamelessly, arms in the air, my ass moving on its own. At first Carmen stayed two steps behind, moving only her hips, taking everything in with those wide green eyes. But little by little she loosened up. We ended up dancing pressed together, her slender body against mine, laughing without being able to hear anything over the kick drum.

It wasn’t long before Lorenzo showed up. Italian, hair tied back, tattoos climbing up his neck, around twenty-six. He started dancing near me, brushing against me without crowding me, waiting for a sign. I played along. Carmen stepped back, but she didn’t leave; she stayed watching us, biting her lip.

Lorenzo grabbed me by the waist.

—Ciao, ragazza. You dance like a dream.

—You’re not bad yourself —I answered, pressing closer—. Want something more than dancing?

He smiled and looked at my mouth.

—I want everything.

I whispered in Carmen’s ear:

—I’m going with him for a bit. Stay close, okay? If you need me, look for me between the curtains.

She nodded, nervous but turned on. Lorenzo took me behind some black plastic curtains, to an area with wrecked sofas and a sweet smell of hashish. He sat me down on one, lifted my skirt and pulled my panties down slowly, like someone unwrapping something he’d been waiting for all day.

—Sei bagnata… —he murmured, sliding a finger inside me—. Fuck, you’re soaking.

He ate my pussy hungrily. Flat tongue over the clit, two fingers curved inside, searching for that exact spot. I came quickly, pressing his head with my thighs, biting my arm so I wouldn’t scream. Then he straightened up and dropped his trousers. Thick cock, straight, shiny head. He shoved it into my mouth and fucked my throat slowly at first, then harder.

—Ingoia, brava ragazza.

He put me on all fours on the sofa. He drove into me in one thrust. It hurt beautifully. He fucked me hard, gripping my hips like he was afraid I’d get away.

—Ti piace? Dimmelo.

—Yes… harder… —I panted.

He came inside me, growling in Italian. I came out from behind the curtains with weak legs and semen slipping down the inside of my thigh. Carmen was waiting by the bar, a beer in her hand and a look like she didn’t know where to put herself.

—Good? —she asked softly.

—Fast and very full —I replied, laughing—. And you?

—I’ve been looking over there… —she admitted, blushing—. Hearing you made me feel sick with want.

***

At around half past five, when the party already smelled of dawn but was still beating, I saw him. Dario. In the middle of the dance floor, moving with that animal ease I remembered too well. Sleeveless black T-shirt, tattooed arms shining with sweat, dark skin reflecting the white of the strobes. Our eyes met. He smiled at me from one side of his mouth, that smile that undid me from the inside.

He came over unhurriedly, parting the crowd with his shoulder.

—Ciao, piccola. Sei tornata —he said in a low voice, rough from the smoke.

—I couldn’t forget you —I answered, pressing against him—. And I brought company.

He turned to Carmen. He looked her up and down, slowly, not hiding that he was sizing her up.

—E tu chi sei?

—Carmen —she said very softly, not looking away—. The friend.

Dario smiled wider.

—Piacere, Carmen. Ti piace ballare?

She swallowed.

—A little… yes.

He took her hand gently, and mine with the other.

—Venite con me. Tutte e due.

He led us to a dark corner beside some concrete pillars. Cold wall at our backs. Thick smoke. The bass thudding like a heartbeat too big for our bodies.

First he kissed me, deep, tongue invading, tasting of tobacco and mint. Then he turned to Carmen, lifted her chin with two fingers.

—Posso? —he asked softly.

She nodded, trembling a little. He kissed her slowly, experimentally, without forcing anything. Carmen whimpered softly against his mouth.

Dario looked at me over his shoulder.

—Toglile il vestito, bionda. I want to see her.

Carmen didn’t wait for anyone to touch her: she pulled the dress off over her head herself. She was left in black thong and matching bra, pale skin almost white against the darkness, her slender body trembling a little from the cold and from nerves.

Dario pulled down his zipper. He took out that cock I had been dreaming about for a month: long, thick, slightly curved, veined, with a dark swollen head.

Carmen’s eyes went wide.

—Jesus Christ… —she whispered—. Does that even fit?

—Entrerà —Dario said, laughing under his breath—. Come here.

I knelt first. I licked him slowly, tasting that salty flavor I remembered. Carmen knelt beside me, shy at first. We licked him together: tongues brushing, little kisses around the head. Dario groaned over us.

—Cazzo… both of you… like that…

He lifted me by the hair, put me against the wall, raised one of my legs and entered me slowly. I moaned loudly.

—Fuck… again… you split me…

—Easy… you can take all of it —he whispered, starting to drive in deep.

Carmen came up behind me, kissed my neck, pinched my nipples through the lace. Then she knelt between us and licked where we were joined: my clit, his balls.

—You both taste… —she murmured, voice hoarse—. Both of you at once.

Dario fucked me harder. I came trembling, my legs almost giving out, juices sliding down his thighs.

Then it was her turn. He put her on all fours against the pillar. He rubbed against her first, smearing himself with what was on me. He pushed in slowly, millimeter by millimeter.

Carmen panted.

—It’s… too… slow…

—Breathe, piccola. Vedrai —Dario said, going a little farther with each thrust.

When he was all the way in, she let out a long moan, almost one of relief.

—Fuck… he fills me… he fills me completely…

Dario started moving. I stood in front of her and slipped my tongue into his mouth while he fucked her. Then I sat on the concrete floor in front of her, spread my legs, took her head. Carmen ate my pussy while Dario fucked her from behind, setting the rhythm for both of us.

—Tell me you’re both mine… both of you —Dario growled.

—I’m yours… —Carmen panted against my clit—. Harder… please…

She came clenching around him, trembling all over, muffled moans against my sex. Dario sped up and emptied himself inside her with a roar that got lost in the room’s bass.

In the end, they came back to me. He lifted me as if I weighed nothing, legs around his waist, and fucked me against the wall while Carmen licked from below whatever was dripping down. I came screaming, no longer trying to hide it. He emptied himself inside me again, hot spurts I felt overflowing.

***

We came out at sunrise, the three of us pressed together, smelling of sex and dried sweat. We walked along the bank of the Tiber without talking much, the sky shifting from violet to orange above the bridges. Carmen took my hand in her icy one and said very softly:

—Thank you… for bringing me.

Dario looked at the two of us from one step above, his hands in his trouser pockets.

—Next time… at my place. Big bed. No rush.

I smiled, my body sore and still full inside.

—Done.