Lulú’s Birthday Ended at the Motel on the Corner

We called her Lulú at the office, although her ID said Andrés. She was a woman trapped in the wrong body and did everything she could to escape it: long hair dyed copper blond, blue shadow on her eyelids, soft, measured movements. When you spoke to her, it gave you that strange feeling of having a man’s body in front of you and being in conversation with a girl. At night she imitated Lady Gaga in a bar in the pink district; she was quite a character.

The other one was Mara, thirty-one, skinny, with black hair down to her shoulders and huge tits that threw the rest of her figure off balance. The three of us worked on a small project, all three of us locked in the same room. I was twenty-four, up to my neck in partying, and always carried a little baggie in my pants pocket. They still didn’t know; they were going to find out that very week.

While we typed away, Lulú rehearsed choreographies behind our backs, swaying between the desks and putting off her share of the work. With Mara, on the other hand, there was a strange connection from day one. One afternoon she invited me to a get-together at the house of some friends of hers, a couple who lived three blocks from the office. We drank wine, talked late into the night, and at some point, not daring to say it out loud, I grabbed a napkin and wrote: “Can I kiss you?”

She thought it was the most romantic thing in the world. That same night, when we said goodbye in the doorway, she planted a kiss on me with those thick lips of hers. From then on we started a silent romance that nobody in the office suspected. I was pretty naive and she kept me going with kisses and walks hand in hand, but nothing more. We’d get to a point where our breathing would catch and, just when I tried to slip my hand under her blouse, she’d pull away with a nervous laugh and leave. I’d end up at home jerking off, imagining burying my dick between those tits and finishing all over her face.

At lunchtime we used to walk past a seedy motel, half a block from the mall. At night that corner filled up with prostitutes and drunks looking for a room. We always joked about the place; one day we even bet how much they charged by the hour.

That day Mara grabbed my hand without warning and dragged me to the window. Lulú came after us, amused. A bored-looking girl served us from behind a glass pane lit by pink neon. Mara asked the price for an hour and, on top of that, how much it cost to bring in a third person. The clerk looked at the three of us — a skinny, well-endowed girl, a nice-looking kid, and someone who was no longer easy to tell if they were a man or a woman — and gave us the rate with the ease of someone who’s seen it all. We left laughing our heads off.

When I did coke, my head went wild. On those nights I’d text Mara filthy messages and she’d answer with even worse ones, but there was still no sex. Until one early morning the message wasn’t for her.

“Hi, what are you doing?” I wrote.

“Hellooo baby! Just getting home, and you?” Lulú replied.

“I can’t sleep.”

“Why?”

“When I do coke, I think about you.”

Several eternal seconds passed.

“Lies. And what do you think?”

“That I want to bend you over and shove it up your ass.”

“OMG. I never imagined that about you.”

“Would you like it?”

“Someday, yes.”

We never brought it up again. They were chemical impulses, nothing more. But the following Thursday everything happened.

***

It was Lulú’s birthday. Mara showed up with a bottle of rum and by two in the afternoon we were already pouring the first glass on top of the keyboard. By five the bottle was dry and they gave me money to buy another one. Every half hour I’d sneak off to the bathroom to take a quick line, so by the time I came back with the second bottle I was already pretty high. I started looking at Lulú with different eyes. She was wearing tight jeans and a white shirt open halfway. Every time she bent over to repeat a dance step, the strap of a white thong showed at the small of her back. I couldn’t stop thinking about what she would look like on all fours, how it would feel to pull that thong aside and feel her balls knocking against mine.

On the other hand, Mara. Mara in a black top, with a long white neck, her belly button bare and a tiny piercing that flashed every time she moved. By six she was drunk; she laughed her head off and slurred her words. Lulú held her liquor better, but she was floating too. I, thanks to the coke, was as clear-headed as a lightbulb.

We decided to go find somewhere else. The second bottle was half gone and I was carrying it. When we passed in front of the motel, I said it like a joke.

“What if we go in?”

They both looked at me, looked at each other, and without saying a word walked straight to the window.

***

I asked for a simple room with an extra charge for the third person. They gave us a key and a number: 207. We went through long hallways with doors on both sides; moans could be heard behind some of them, others were silent. We crossed paths with a drag queen coming out holding hands with a man in a suit and tie; the man lowered his eyes as we passed. Lulú let out a little laugh.

The room was horrible: old bed, ceiling fan, a battered red armchair in one corner, and a huge mirror facing the bed. I closed the door and locked myself in the bathroom. I took out the bag and poured myself two quick lines on the toilet lid.

When I came out, Lulú was lying on her side on the bed; once again her thong was visible above her jeans. Mara was wrestling with the remote, looking for a channel. Later I found out she was looking for porn.

I walked up to her and, seeing me, she froze. Her eyes went wide and she looked at Lulú. I turned around, and Lulú had the same expression. In my rush to sniff, I hadn’t noticed I had my whole nose coated white.

“Are you doing coke?” Mara asked, almost in a whisper.

There was no point in lying. I wiped the back of my hand across my nose and, with all the shamelessness drunkenness gives you, said:

“Want some?”

The three of us sat around the little table holding the TV. I poured out a generous amount, made three lines with a card, and took the first one to show them how. Lulú went next; as she bent over, again the thong, again the temptation. Mara was the last and coughed for a good half hour.

***

We put reggaeton on the phone and started moving. We took off our shirts almost at the same time. Lulú showed me a smooth chest with not a single hair and a leather belt already unbuckled. Mara stayed in a white lace bra, her tits bouncing with every step, and I knew that night I was finally going to have them in my mouth.

On TV, a thin blonde was taking on two men at once, one above and one below. The two dicks brushed against each other with every thrust. Call me crazy, but with that scene in the background and Mara half naked beside me, the first thing I did was go up to Lulú. I slid my hand inside her open jeans, fought with the thong, and grabbed something thicker and harder than I expected. With my other hand I finished opening her pants. The thong barely held back the bulge. I kissed her. I pushed her against the bed; she fell back sitting, and her dick popped out to one side of the fabric. I knelt and took it into my mouth. Lulú let out a feminine moan, ran a hand through her hair, and looked at me.

I felt my pants being yanked down. Mara, the same Mara who had never let me get past a kiss, tilted back the bottle, knelt behind me, and shoved my face between her ass cheeks. She stayed there a long while, licking, biting, laughing.

Between Lulú and me, we stripped the rest of Mara’s clothes off. Her tits were perfect, the nipples small and pale. The mix of alcohol and powder had given her a bright, almost possessed look. She grabbed my dick, guided it to her pussy, and speared herself on it right there, standing up. Lulú took her from behind; she went in without much ceremony. Mara’s tits flattened against my chest. I brought them to my mouth and gently bit her nipples.

I flopped onto my back on the old bed. Mara climbed on top and drove herself into me again. In the mirror on the ceiling I could see her ass — a small white ass, the hole tight and pink — and I could also see Lulú settling in behind her, fitting herself into that narrower space, and starting to fuck her at her own rhythm. When Lulú’s balls began brushing the base of my cock, an old curiosity of mine was finally satisfied. Mara was screaming in a voice I didn’t know she had.

I made three more lines, this time not on the table but on the shaft of my dick. They both knelt and, one after the other, snorted them. Then they stayed there, licking up whatever was left. Their tongues bumped against each other now and then, and Mara got the idea of wetting one finger with saliva and taking it to my ass. Her long white nail hurt a little when it went in. I made a face and, instead of pulling the finger out, she pushed it deeper. The nail grazed my walls like a blade. I didn’t tell her to stop. I liked it.

That night I discovered Mara was into domination. She had total control over me, always went for the hole, always set the pace. Then she decided it was my turn to serve. She sat on the edge of the bed, spread her legs, grabbed me by the head, and brought my face down to her pussy.

“Eat it all, bitch,” she said. “Lulú, put it in this handsome boy’s ass.”

I had never done anything with a man. Once, alone in my room, I had played around with whatever I had at hand. When Lulú pressed the head of her dick against my ass, it really hurt. I had to let go of Mara’s pussy to breathe.

“Give me the bottle!” I shouted.

Mara stood up with that odd elegance she had even when drunk, walked over to the table, dipped a finger in what was left of the powder, licked it off, took a long swig, and put the bottle to my lips. I swallowed. Lulú’s dick went in a little farther. At first it was agony; then it became something else.

“Don’t take it out,” I told her. “Leave it in, don’t take it out.”

***

We took a break. The three of us lay on the bed, Mara in the middle. On TV, a thick-ass Latina was now fooling around in a pool with a couple. I was stroking the tit closest to Mara, and she, distracted, was playing with my balls.

“I want to shower,” she said, and got up and went into the bathroom.

Lulú and I stayed silent for a couple of seconds. She looked at me.

“You know I wanted to do this with you,” I told her.

She smiled with all her femininity. I put her on all fours and licked her ass for a long while. Before penetrating her I ran my dick over her mouth so she’d lubricate it for me. It worked perfectly. Unlike me, who was a beginner at that, Lulú opened her ass with a practiced movement and gave me free passage to the base. My balls slapped against hers. I started moving amid her moans and mine.

Mara came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, let it fall, and climbed back onto the bed. She played the dominatrix again: she jammed her nail into my hole, this time without warning. By then I was already stretched open and took it without so much as a flinch. I came inside Lulú. Mara licked up what was left — first from my dick, then from Lulú’s hole — and laughed with her mouth open.

The finish was tasting semen. Mara and I did the work on Lulú’s dick, which ended up ejaculating over us in fine moans. The three of us went to the shower. I turned on the water and it started falling over Mara’s perfect body. She turned around, wrapped her arms around my neck, and we kissed as if we hadn’t seen each other in months. I got hard again. She offered me her ass, braced against the tiles. We did it there a little longer, until the water ran cold.

We finished off what was left of the second bottle sitting on the bed, the three of us silent, watching the end of a movie nobody was looking at anymore. We had gone in at seven; we left after midnight. Lulú took a taxi alone and Mara and I got into another one. She laid her head on my shoulder, and before we reached her building, she fell asleep.