That Night I Pretended to Be One of Them

There’s a curiosity many women carry inside and never admit out loud. Mine began on Mendizábal Avenue, a wide street I drove down every night on my way home from the office. By that hour there was no traffic left, only them, standing in groups of three or four, smoking against the lampposts and watching the cars that went by slowly.

I would see them and wonder what it felt like. What did it feel like to spread your legs for strangers one after another, what kind of mind did you have to have, what went on inside when some random guy put a bill in your hand and shoved his cock into your mouth? I thought about it while I drove, while I showered, while I fell asleep with my hand between my thighs.

One afternoon my car went into the shop because of a steering-fluid leak, and I took a taxi home. The driver was an older man, with a graying mustache and huge hands on the wheel. When we passed Mendizábal, I made a face almost without thinking.

—How outrageous —I said—. Out in the open for everyone to see.

—They’re working, ma’am —he replied, without taking his eyes off the traffic light—. Just like you or me.

Something in his tone made me keep asking questions. How much they charged for a blowjob, how much for fucking, how they chose a client, what they did if things got ugly. The taxi driver answered everything with a naturalness that both unsettled and fascinated me. To him it was street information, nothing more and nothing less. To me it was a map.

He dropped me in front of the gate, and I went up to the apartment without greeting the doorman. I threw myself onto the bed without taking off my clothes and stared at the ceiling for a long while, my cunt throbbing against the seam of my trousers. Then I opened the drawer of the bedside table and took out the vibrator. I hadn’t used it in months. I pulled my trousers and panties down to my ankles and discovered that I was soaked, so soaked that the fabric had stuck to my lips. I closed my eyes and ran my fingers between the folds, slowly, feeling them open on their own. I imagined getting out of some random car with someone else’s money clenched in my fist and cum still running from the corner of my mouth. I plunged the vibrator into myself in one stroke and let out a moan that surprised even me. I pulled it out and pushed it back in, this time deeper, twisting it, while with my other hand I squeezed my clit between two fingers. The orgasm shook me like it hadn’t in a long time: my feet arched, a hot spurt escaped and wet my thigh, and I lay trembling on the bed with the vibrator still inside me, buzzing.

Why not, I thought once my breathing had returned to normal. Why not, just once.

***

I waited until winter vacation. I had two weeks off and no one waiting for me anywhere. In the meantime, I bought what I thought I would need, piece by piece, at different shopping centers so nothing would appear on a single receipt. Fishnet stockings. A very short denim skirt I never would have worn in my real life. Blood-red lipstick. A short black wig, because my hair is long and blond and I didn’t want to risk someone recognizing me.

The first night arrived. I got ready in the bathroom with my heart pounding against my ribs. The woman looking back at me from the mirror didn’t resemble me. Her eyes were heavily made up, her mouth painted a nearly violent red, and her skirt was so short that if I bent over, my panties showed. I went down to the parking garage, drove to within three blocks of Mendizábal, and left the car on a side street beneath a large tree that blocked the streetlamp’s light.

I walked the remaining distance, trying to move like them. I couldn’t. My legs were stiff, and the heels hurt me. Before turning the corner, I took two deep breaths, as I used to before difficult presentations at work. Then I turned and entered their world.

Three of them surrounded me immediately. A skinny one with bleached hair was the first to speak.

—You can’t stand here, honey. This block is ours.

—I’m from out of town —I improvised, in a voice I barely recognized as my own—. I just need to make enough for the fare. Let me stay a while; I won’t get in your way.

They argued quietly among themselves, looking me up and down. In the end, the skinny one came back at me.

—Fine. But thirty percent of whatever you make comes to us. And if you screw up, you leave on your own and fast. Do you at least know how to suck cock properly?

I nodded yes, without really knowing what I was saying yes to.

***

The first car to stop was an old grape-colored Renault. Inside was a man around sixty, bald, with his shirt unbuttoned at the first button. He rolled down the window and looked me up and down without bothering to hide it.

—How much for a French?

I named a figure at random, one the taxi driver had mentioned laughingly the afternoon of the steering leak. The man clicked his tongue.

—You’re expensive, sweetheart. But there’s something about you I like. Get in.

I got in with my knees trembling. He drove two blocks and parked behind a shuttered church, in a patch of shade that smelled of garbage. He turned off the engine, undid his belt, lowered his zipper, and took his cock out with a naturalness that left me speechless. It was thick and short, with a purple head and a prominent vein running from the base to the tip. He pushed the back of my head with his open hand, and I bent over him because there was no way to back out anymore.

I ran my tongue over him first, slowly, from his balls to the tip, trying to put my thoughts in order. I licked his frenulum, circled the head with the tip of my tongue, and felt him swell even more inside my mouth. Then I opened wide and took him all the way in, until he hit the back of my throat, and arched my neck to swallow more of him. The man braced one hand against the roof of the car and remained silent, breathing through his nose. I caressed his testicles with my other hand, squeezed them gently, weighed them in my palm. With the other hand I gripped the base of his cock and began pumping it in time with what I was doing with my mouth. A growl escaped him, and his fingers dug into my hair.

—That’s it, bitch, that’s it, don’t stop.

Saliva ran down my chin and soaked his trousers. I sucked him faster, pulling him out to the tip and taking him all the way back in, my cheeks hollowing with a wet popping sound. I ran my tongue beneath his balls, sucked them one at a time while continuing to jerk him with my hand, and went back up to devour him.

—Don’t get me dirty —he suddenly said, his voice tight—. Swallow it all.

I felt him harden completely and throb against my tongue. The first spurt struck the roof of my mouth, hot and thick, and nearly made me cough. The next ones came in bursts, one after another, filling my mouth. I closed my lips tightly around the base and swallowed twice, feeling the semen slide down my throat, bitter and salty. I kept my mouth closed over him for another second, sucking the tip to get every last drop, waiting for him to stop trembling. When I sat up, a white thread hung from the corner of my mouth. I wiped it away with the back of my hand and licked it, because it seemed like the thing to do. The man looked at me and smiled for the first time.

—You’re going to have customers, sweetheart.

He straightened his clothes, handed me the bills folded in half, and drove me back to the corner without another word.

On the sidewalk, I handed over the percentage without arguing. The skinny girl counted the bills with a saliva-moistened finger.

—You learn fast —she said, handing me a handkerchief—. Wipe your chin; you’ve still got milk on it.

***

The second customer was a couple. He was driving, she was in the passenger seat, and they were both dressed as if they were coming back from dinner out. He lowered the window, and his voice sounded polite and gentle.

—Do you service both of us together?

I quoted twice the previous price. They paid without arguing, in cash, counted out on the spot. I got in the front, the three of us squeezed onto the same seat because she made room for me between them, and she placed a hand on my thigh as soon as we pulled away. She slowly moved it upward, beneath my skirt, until her fingertip brushed my panties. She pushed them aside and thrust two fingers inside me without asking. I arched in the seat and accidentally bit her shoulder.

—She’s nice and wet —she told her husband, moving her fingers inside me—. This is going to be good.

We went up to an apartment on the fifth floor of a building without a doorman. Inside, it smelled of expensive perfume and recently extinguished incense. The woman—she called herself Catalina—led me to the bedroom by the hand, as if we had been friends all our lives. The three of us undressed in silence, without any theatrics. She had small, firm breasts, with dark, erect nipples. He had a long, slender cock curved upward, already hard before anyone touched it.

Catalina lay down first, legs spread in the middle of the bed, and beckoned to me with one finger. Her husband gently pushed me down by the waist toward the center of the bed and buried my face between her thighs. I ran my tongue between her lips with my eyes closed, feeling her warm, sweet scent, different from the one I knew. I opened her with my fingers and searched for her clitoris with the tip of my tongue, circling it first gently and then faster. Catalina sighed deeply, grabbed the back of my head, and pressed me against her. At the same time, with her free hand, she grabbed her husband’s cock, which he had knelt beside her face, and took half of it into her mouth, sucking him while I ate her out.

I felt her tremble beneath my tongue and come in two short waves, squeezing my head between her thighs. When I released her, my face was drenched with her juices. She took me by the chin and licked my lips and chin with an almost obscene calmness, savoring herself.

We changed positions several times without anyone having to say a word. It was a choreography they already had worked out, and I was simply completing it. He put her on all fours and shoved his cock into her at once, all the way to the hilt, then began fucking her slowly and deeply while staring at me. I knelt in front of Catalina and offered her my breasts; she sucked them one after the other, gently biting my nipples, while her husband gripped her hips and sped up. Then they laid me down. He climbed on top and thrust into me in a single stroke, all the way in, making me moan loudly against Catalina’s shoulder. He was longer than he looked; he struck a place inside me that made me squeeze my thighs around him. She sat on my face, looking back to watch him fuck me, and I ran my tongue over her cunt and her ass while he pounded me.

—Put it in deeper, like that, all the way in, like that —Catalina told him breathlessly, rubbing herself against my mouth.

My head was spinning. I thought: this is me, this is happening, I chose this, two strangers are fucking me and I’m getting paid to let them fuck me. And I came. I came with her cunt filling my mouth and his cock pounding inside me, and I felt the spasms squeeze him so tightly that I tore a moan from him.

When he was about to finish, he knelt us both in front of him, side by side, with our mouths open and our tongues out like two obedient little whores. He jerked himself quickly and came in long spurts, half in his wife’s mouth and half in mine. I felt the hot semen fall onto my tongue, my lips, my chin. Then Catalina leaned over and kissed me. It was the strangest kiss of my life: salty, slow, tasting of another man, mixing his milk between our two mouths. They left me at the same corner twenty minutes later. They paid again, with a tip on top of the agreed price, and drove away without asking for my number.

***

The third car was different from the very first minute. It was a large black van with tinted windows. All four men got out at once, laughing among themselves. Four young guys, no more than thirty, smelling of alcohol and cologne mixed together.

—A little party —said the tallest, leaning against the door—. Tell us the price and we’ll see.

I named a figure that seemed outrageous to me. I expected them to leave. The tallest one smiled with all his teeth.

—We’ll pay you double. But you do everything we ask, without complaining.

I should have said no. I should have turned around and walked back to the car without looking behind me. Instead, I negotiated a few more pesos, though I don’t really know why, as if the extra money gave me some kind of guarantee. They agreed and put me in the van.

They drove for at least twenty minutes. I sat in the back between two of them, and none of them touched me. They talked among themselves as if I weren’t there. That frightened me more than if they had put their hands on me. We left the city by a secondary road; the lights grew farther and farther apart until almost everything outside was black.

The house stood at the end of a dirt road. We got out. Inside was a large, empty living room with a single lamp on and a room at the back with its door open. They took me straight to the bedroom. One of them shoved me by the shoulder, and I fell sitting on the edge of the bed. When I raised my head, all four of them were already taking off their clothes. Four cocks out at once, different sizes, thick, all hard.

—Get naked —the tallest said—. Everything. And get on your knees on the floor.

I did it quickly, without protesting, measuring every movement. I knelt on the wooden floor and felt the cold climb up my shins. The tallest approached first. He grabbed my hair, slapped my cheeks with his cock two or three times, leaving a shiny trail on my face, and then shoved it into my mouth in one stroke until my eyes watered.

—Spit on it —he told me—. Spit properly. Smear it all over.

I spat on his cock, and he rubbed it all over my face, my forehead, my eyes, my chin. Then he thrust it back into my mouth and drove it into my throat, gripping the back of my head with both hands. I felt the gagging rise and couldn’t hold it back; a string of drool escaped, hanging from my chin to my breasts. The other three arranged themselves around me. Hands everywhere. Fingers going in and out of my cunt and ass, squeezing my nipples, pulling my hair. Voices laughing and giving orders at the same time.

—Switch —one of them said.

The one in my mouth pulled out, and another took his place. This one was thicker; he had to force my jaw open. The four of them took turns fucking my mouth one after another, and in between they made me suck their balls, run my tongue between their buttocks, and swallow the saliva they spat into my mouth.

The one in my mouth suddenly turned around, squatted over my face, and ordered me to run my tongue over his ass. I had never done anything like that. I closed my eyes and obeyed. I slowly ran my tongue along the cleft, tasting the strong, salty flavor, then stiffened it and pushed it inside him as he instructed, my tongue pressing against the ring, moving in and out while he jerked himself above me. My head spun with shame and something else I didn’t know how to name. I buried myself deeper, bit one of his buttocks, and licked his balls from behind. He came without warning, a long spurt splashing across my forehead and hair and running down to my eyebrows.

At some point I stopped thinking. One of them spat between my legs and shoved three fingers inside me at once, without preparation. It hurt; I arched my back. Then the pain stopped and I began wetting myself. He sat me on top of him, my back against his chest, and drove his cock into my cunt from below, his hands squeezing my breasts. Another came from in front, spread my legs wider, and pushed his cock in too, pressed against the other one, both inside me at once, one above the other. I felt as if I were being split apart. Then I didn’t. Then it became something else, something hot and dull that was no longer pain but wasn’t what I knew as pleasure either. The two of them began moving out of rhythm, one while the other withdrew, colliding inside me, filling me so completely I couldn’t get enough air.

—Look at how both of them are inside her —the tallest said, filming with his phone—. Look at that cunt, how it stretches.

The other two stood in front of me and put their cocks into my mouth at the same time, pressing them against the insides of my cheeks. I sucked as best I could, alternating and spitting, with the two cocks above fucking my throats and the two below fucking me as well. They turned me over. Now one in front and one behind; the one who put it in my ass did it slowly the first time, spat, pushed, withdrew, and pushed again, and suddenly he entered all the way, drawing a muffled cry from me against the pillow. The other two stood in front of me, taking turns in my mouth, making me suck while they fucked me in both holes. They used me with a synchronization that didn’t seem improvised, as if they had done it before with other women. And beneath all that madness, one part of me continued to register everything, coldly, almost clinically, as though watching from the ceiling. Another part, lower down, betrayed me: I came in short waves against the cock of the one in front, squeezing him, and he laughed at it.

—The whore’s coming, look. She likes us splitting her open between the four of us.

They finished almost at the same time. The one behind came inside my ass, and I felt it hot, running out of me; the one in front pulled out and came across my belly and breasts. The other two sat me upright against the headboard, and all four stood in a semicircle in front of me and sprayed their final spurts over my face, into my mouth, onto my neck and breasts. I couldn’t breathe. The milk ran from my chin to my chest, from my chest to my navel, and farther down, mixing with what was already running out of me between my thighs.

Then they laughed. The tallest said something about a little whore like me needing a bath. They dragged me to the bathtub and sat me inside with my legs spread, still dripping semen. One stood in front of me with his cock aimed at my face and began pissing on me. The stream struck my forehead and eyes and ran down into my mouth. The others applauded as if it were a show. I closed my eyes but opened my mouth—I don’t know why, don’t ask me why—and felt the warm, bitter taste fill my tongue. One after another, they did the same, aiming at my hair, my breasts, my open cunt. Then they asked me to show them how I pissed. I stood with my back to them, braced my hands against the tiles, arched my waist, spread my legs, and let the stream run hard down my thighs into the drain. The applause came again. One of them put two fingers into my ass while I was still pissing, and I felt such overwhelming humiliation that it mixed with another short, dry orgasm, making my knees buckle.

***

They paid me twice what we had discussed and a little more on top. Two of them drove me back to the corner without speaking. My hair was still wet and stuck to the nape of my neck, and I held the wig clenched in my fist inside my purse. Drops were still running down the insides of my thighs. When I got out of the van, my legs wouldn’t support me.

The skinny girl was waiting for me at the curb. She didn’t ask a single question. I counted the bills, gave her share to her, along with the other two women’s, and she took them and put them back in my hand.

—This round’s on the house —she said—. You’ve done enough for today.

I walked barefoot to the car, my heels dangling from my fingers. I drove to my building with the windows closed and the heater turned all the way up, even though it wasn’t cold. I got into the shower fully dressed and sat on the bathtub floor until the hot water ran out, feeling the other men’s semen loosen in white strands between my legs and wash down the drain.

That was the only time. I never went back to Mendizábal, or to any other street like it. But sometimes, driving at night, I pass slowly by a corner with dim lighting and wonder which of the women standing there is living what I lived through. And which one is, as I was that night, simply trying it out.