My Confession: That Rave with My Flatmate

It was the end of November 2018, and Porto’s air already carried that wet cold that worked its way into your bones at dawn. A month had passed since that early-morning session with Tomé in the private room at Industria, and no matter how much I tried to get on with normal life — classes at the Faculty of Arts, breakfasts at the café on the corner, calls to Seville — my head always went back to the same place: to that brutal cock that had split me open, to the feeling of being used and loved in equal parts. I was no longer the same girl who had stepped off the plane with a suitcase full of books and reasonable promises. Now I wanted more. I wanted to feel overwhelmed again.

My flatmate was called Carla. From Sóller, in Mallorca, twenty-three years old, honey-dark skin, jet-black hair falling to mid-back, huge eyes that looked a little sad. She was thin, with that fragility of fine bones: narrow waist, long legs but no muscle, small firm breasts that barely showed under any T-shirt. She always wore loose things, dark fabrics, as if asking permission to take up space. She spoke little. Watched a lot. When she laughed, she did it softly, almost as if apologizing. But some nights, after the third glass of wine, her tongue loosened and she became someone else. She had broken up with her high school boyfriend three months earlier and ever since had been in this kind of pause: checking Tinder, eyeing the guys in the bar, but never taking the step. Until I told her about Tomé.

That night we were on the tiny balcony of the Ribeira apartment, with two bottles of Super Bock and a blanket over our shoulders. The Douro below, dark and flat. I told her everything without filtering a thing: how Tomé had fucked my mouth in the bathroom, how he had bent me over the sink on all fours, how I had felt every hot spurt bursting inside me. Carla listened with the beer halfway to her lips, biting her mouth, her cheeks getting redder and redder. When I finished, it took her a while to speak.

—Fuck, girl... I’ve never felt anything like that. I’m jealous as hell.

I stared at her.

—Then come with me tonight. There’s a rave in a warehouse in Bonfim. Hard techno, weird people, until dawn. If Tomé shows up, I’ll introduce you. And if not, we’ll find something for ourselves.

She stayed quiet for a long while, looking at the river. In the end she nodded slowly, without lifting her eyes.

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

We got ready in my room. I went straight for it: a black lace bodysuit that was almost transparent, the nipples showing and my navel piercing on display; a frayed denim miniskirt that barely covered my ass; mid-calf boots and eyeliner smudged on purpose. Carla hesitated in front of the wardrobe for over twenty minutes. She took things out, put them back, took them out again. In the end she chose a tight black dress with a nice drape, mid-calf length, high neck and long sleeves, and a back that was almost completely bare, showing the slim curve of her spine. Low heels, hair down, discreet gloss on her lips. She looked like a polished, elegant version of a girl who was going to devour the night without anyone seeing it coming.

We got to the warehouse at ten to three. The queue was short but dense: latex masks, vinyl, strange piercings, the smell of hash and sweat even before going in. When we crossed the threshold, the bass dropped on us like a slab. Industrial techno, kicks that massaged your stomach. We went straight to the dance floor. I danced shamelessly, arms up, hips keeping time. Carla, at first, stayed one step behind, moving only her waist and shoulders, taking everything in with those huge eyes. But glass after glass, she loosened up. We ended up dancing very close together, her thin body pressed against mine, laughing softly into each other’s ears.

Rui appeared not long after. Portuguese, long hair tied in a low bun, tattoos up to his neck, about twenty-seven. He started dancing near me, brushing against me without crowding me. I played along. Carla moved away a little, but she didn’t leave: she stayed watching us, biting her lip.

Rui put a hand on my waist, palm flat over my hip.

—Olá, morena. Danças muito bem.

—So do you —I answered, pressing myself closer to him—. Feel like doing more than dancing?

He looked at my lips. Smiled crookedly.

—Quero tudo.

I leaned over to Carla and spoke into her ear over the bass.

—I’m going off with him for a bit. Stay close, okay? If you need me, come and get me.

She nodded, nervous but with bright eyes. Rui took me behind some plastic curtains, into a zone of broken sofas where the music became only bass. He sat me on one, lifted my skirt and pulled my panties down slowly, as if opening an envelope he didn’t want to tear.

—Estás molhada... —he murmured, slipping in a finger—. Caralho, molhada pra caralho.

He ate me with hunger. Tongue flat on my clit, two fingers curving inside me. I came quickly, gripping his head with my thighs, biting my forearm so I wouldn’t scream. Then he stood up and pulled down his trousers. Thick cock, veined, glossy head. He shoved it in my mouth and started fucking my throat, first at an almost delicate pace, then harder and harder.

—Engole... assim... boa menina.

He put me on all fours against the back of the sofa. He entered me in one thrust. It hurt just enough to make me like it. He fucked me hard, holding my hips like they were a handle.

—Gostas? Diz-me.

—Yes... don’t stop... —I gasped.

He came inside me with a deep grunt. I came out from behind the curtain with wobbly legs and his cum sliding down my left thigh. Carla was waiting near the bar, with a nearly empty beer in her hand and a face that didn’t know where to look.

—Good? —she asked very softly.

—Quick and intense —I said, laughing—. And you?

—I was watching, girl... —she admitted, blushing to her ears—. I got horny just looking at you two.

***

Around five-thirty, when the warehouse already smelled like dawn but the sound was still throbbing, I saw him. Tomé. In the middle of the floor, dancing with that animal ease of his. Black sleeveless T-shirt, tattooed arms sweaty, chocolate skin shining under the flashes. Our eyes collided. He smiled that half-smile that melted me without mercy.

He came over unhurriedly, pushing through the crowd as if everyone owed him something.

—Olá, miúda. Voltaste —he said, voice rough from the smoke.

—I couldn’t forget you —I answered, moving closer—. And I came with company.

He turned to Carla. He looked her up and down, slowly, without hiding it.

—E tu és...?

—Carla —she said almost in a whisper, not looking away—. The friend.

Tomé smiled wider.

—Prazer, Carla. Gostas de dançar?

She swallowed.

—A little... yes.

He took her hand with a tenderness that was surprising in someone so big; with the other he took mine.

—Vem comigo. As duas.

He led us to a corner at the back, beside some concrete columns. The wall was cold despite the heat of bodies. Smoke hung down there, thick. The bass thudded against our backs.

First he kissed me, deep, his tongue entering as if it already knew the way. Then he turned to Carla and lifted her chin with two fingers.

—Posso? —he asked quietly.

She nodded, trembling a little. He kissed her slowly, exploratorily, as if Carla were made of glass. Carla moaned against his mouth, almost inaudibly.

Tomé looked at me over her shoulder.

—Tira o vestido, miúda. Quero ver.

Carla took off the dress slowly, letting it fall to the floor. She was left in a black thong and matching bra. Perfect brown skin, thin body barely trembling.

Tomé unzipped his trousers. He pulled out that cock I remembered in my dreams: long, thick, slightly curved, veiny, dark swollen head.

Carla’s eyes went wide.

—My God... —she whispered—. That fits?

—Vai entrar —Tomé laughed softly—. Vem cá.

I knelt first. I licked him slowly, tasting the salty precum on the tip. Carla knelt beside me, hesitating for two seconds, then her tongue next to mine. We licked together: tongues brushing around the glans, kissing over it. Tomé growled toward the ceiling.

—Foda-se... as duas... assim...

He lifted me by the hair carefully, pushed me against the wall and hooked one leg up over his hip. He entered me slowly, opening me little by little. I moaned loudly.

—Fuck... again... you’re splitting me...

—Easy... you can take it all —he whispered in my ear, starting to thrust deep.

Carla came up behind me, kissed my neck, pinched my nipples over the bodysuit. Then she knelt and licked me where Tomé and I were joined: my clit, his balls, with no disgust at all.

—It tastes... like both of you —she murmured in a rough voice, eyes half-closed.

Tomé slammed into me harder. I came trembling, hot streams sliding down his thighs.

Then it was her turn. He put her on all fours against the column. He rubbed himself first, coating himself with my fluids. Then he pushed in slowly, centimeter by centimeter.

Carla gasped.

—It’s... a lot... slowly...

—Breathe, girl. You’re gonna like it —Tomé said, stopping each time she tensed her thighs.

When he was in all the way, Carla let out one long, unrestrained moan.

—Fuck... it fills me... fills me completely...

Tomé started moving at a slow, deep rhythm. I stood in front of him and put my tongue in his mouth while he fucked her. Then I sat on the floor, spread my legs and offered my sex to Carla. She ate me with her eyes closed, gasping in broken bursts each time he slammed into her from behind.

—Diz que és minha... as duas —Tomé growled.

—Sou tua... —Carla gasped—. Fode-me... more...

She came clutching him, trembling, her moans muffled against my sex. Tomé sped up and emptied himself inside her with a roar that was swallowed by the bass.

He came back to me at the end. He lifted me off the floor, raised both my legs to his waist and fucked me against the wall while Carla, still trembling, licked up from below what was spilling over. I came screaming, not caring about anything. He came inside me again, hot spurts spilling out the sides.

***

We came out at dawn, the three of us pressed together, smelling of sex and industrial sweat. We walked along the Douro quay, the sky shifting from grey to pale pink. Carla took my hand and squeezed it. She spoke very softly.

—Thanks... for bringing me.

Tomé looked at the two of us, hands in his pockets, wearing that calm smile of someone in no hurry to leave.

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

I smiled, my body sore and full, and for a second I thought about my room in Seville, about the girl I’d been a year before, and I wanted to laugh at her.

—Done —I said.