The Confession in the Abandoned Construction Site

My name is Daniela, and this happened when I was already an adult woman, although I still had that dangerous mix of curiosity, shamelessness, and the urge to try anything that turned me on. I’m telling it now because, of all the times I’ve let myself get carried away by lust, that night in an abandoned construction site was the one that taught me how far I could go if I was properly provoked.

We were a group of friends from the neighborhood, all of us adults, all raised on the same block and used to speaking to one another with the brutal familiarity that years bring. We didn’t get together as often as we used to, but that Friday night several of us happened to run into each other in the street, killing time, joking around, and looking for something to do.

One person suggested getting some beers, another said we should play video games, and in the end the stupidest and most tempting idea won out: sneaking into an abandoned construction site at the end of the avenue. It had something of a cheap adventure, something of stupid danger, something that made us feel more alive than we really were.

I went with them laughing, pretending I didn’t care about anything, although I had already been feeling restless. There had been an old tension between us, the kind that develops when you’ve watched someone grow up and one day stop seeing him as “one of the usual crowd” and start imagining how he kisses, how he touches, how he fucks.

The entrance was covered with warped sheets of metal held in place by wire. Two of them lifted them high enough for us to pass through one by one. Inside, it smelled of damp dust, old cement, garbage, and crushed weeds. There were fallen partitions, opened sacks, torn bags, and scraps of building materials everywhere.

The only light came from our cell phones. We walked around shining them into corners as if we were going to discover treasure, when in reality all we found was filth. Empty bottles, a rusted wheelbarrow, some gloves hardened with plaster. Everything ugly, dirty, and very nighttime.

Until one of them let out a shout.

—Come here, assholes, look at this.

We went over to where he was and saw him bent over a plastic bag half-buried beneath some planks. He opened it and pulled out several damp, crumpled porn magazines, some of them stuck together. The reaction was immediate: laughter, teasing, dirty comments, nudges, pure adolescent lust already packed into adult bodies.

I picked one up out of simple curiosity, thinking it would make me laugh. The first pages were damaged, but farther in, the pictures were pretty clear. One of my friends opened another and started reading the absurd dialogue aloud, making us laugh. Still, between the laughter and the dust, the atmosphere began to change.

There was something about being there, hidden away, standing in an empty construction site and looking at porn, that loosened our shame. The jokes stopped sounding innocent. Looks lingered a second too long. The comments shifted from joking to testing the waters.

Then another one found an improvised bathroom at the back, a site hut with a yellow bulb that was still working. It was ridiculous, but that light glowing in the middle of so much darkness immediately made it a point of attraction. Suddenly everyone wanted to go in, look around, inspect it, claim it.

—You can really do your homework in there, one of them said, waving a magazine.

—You go first, another replied.

—No, let the lady go, the loudest one said, looking at me with a crooked smile.

I snorted and kept flipping through the pages, but inside I could already feel the heat between my legs. One of the magazines showed a sequence of oral sex so direct, so shameless, that I began to feel wet. Not because of romance or some pretty fantasy. The rawness turned me on. The thought of an open mouth, a hard cock, a woman swallowing the cum without looking away turned me on.

—You got awfully quiet, Mauro said, moving closer to look over my shoulder.

—I’m reading, idiot.

—I can tell. You’re even breathing differently now.

I gave him a gentle shove, but I didn’t move away. He kept looking at the magazine with me. His shoulder brushed mine. The others took turns going into the bathroom to masturbate for a while with a torn-out page or their phones. I pretended not to care, although every time one came out with a tense face and his fly poorly adjusted, it made me even hornier.

—Come on, tell me the truth, Mauro insisted in a low voice. Did it turn you on?

—Why do you care?

—A lot.

I looked up and found his gaze fixed on my mouth. Not my eyes. My mouth. That was when I felt the real shift, the one that was no longer a game. He noticed it too, because he barely smiled.

—You suck cock good, don’t you? he asked bluntly.

My throat went dry, but not from disgust—from the hot jolt of hearing him say it like that. Raw. Direct. Without disguising it.

—Don’t push it.

—That’s not a no.

—It’s not a yes either.

He leaned a little closer. —If we were alone, would you suck me?

I thought about it for half a second, just to play hard to get. The truth was that my pussy was already wet and my pulse was racing. The magazine, the darkness, the risk of the others hearing us—it was all pushing me exactly in that direction.

—Maybe I would, I admitted softly.

—Then come to the bathroom.

—Everyone’s here.

—Even better.

That answer turned me on more than I expected. It made me feel seen, exposed, almost put on display. And I discovered, with a shiver running down my back, that I liked it.

—Quickly, I told him at last. And if I go in, don’t get romantic.

—Don’t worry. I want you to suck me, not recite poetry to me.

He took my hand and practically dragged me to the hut. The others whistled when they realized what was happening. One shouted something about leaving us turns, another laughed as if he couldn’t believe I was really going in. I didn’t look at anyone. I was already too hot to back out.

Inside, the bathroom was a disgusting site cubicle, with a stained toilet, a broken sink, and a buzzing bulb overhead. Mauro closed the door halfway. Not locked. Halfway. As if he wanted to leave open the possibility that someone might hear or see something.

—Show it to me, I said.

He didn’t even answer. He pulled down his zipper, took out his cock, and showed it to me half-hard, thick, with the tip already glistening. Seeing it like that, so close and so real, made me squeeze my thighs together. There was no glamour, no music, no bed. Just a cock in front of my face and my desire rising like a fever.

I sat on the toilet lid and beckoned him closer with two fingers. He obeyed immediately. I brushed the tip with my tongue, slowly, gathering the fluid beading there. I felt his breath catch.

—Fuck... he murmured.

I gave it another lick, this time from bottom to top, and then opened my mouth to take him in little by little. He was still finishing getting hard, and I liked feeling him grow completely rigid between my lips. I swallowed him in stages, lowering my head as far as I could, while one hand squeezed his thigh and the other slipped between my legs on pure reflex.

I was soaked myself. I rubbed myself over my clothes for a moment while sucking him, and that simple touch drew a muffled moan from me against his cock. Mauro grabbed my hair with one hand, not to hurt me, but to set the pace. He began fucking my mouth with short, tense thrusts, growing more confident each time.

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

I looked up at him from below while I sucked him. That pushed him over the edge. He thrust deeper and made me swallow around him. I felt his cock pulse on my tongue and knew he was close. Instead of pulling away, I tightened my lips and sped up with my hand at the base, letting him use my mouth.

He came with a short grunt. His semen struck the back of my throat in hot, thick pulses. I held him there, swallowing what I could while he moved a few more times, disjointedly, until he had emptied himself completely.

When he finally came out, I kept my mouth full for a second. I watched him trembling, red-faced, breathing as if he’d been running. Then I swallowed slowly without breaking eye contact.

—Damn, he said. You suck incredibly well.

I wiped the corner of my mouth with my thumb. —I knew that already.

Knocks and laughter sounded outside the door.

—Are you two going to fuck or what? someone shouted.

My pussy was still throbbing and I hadn’t been satisfied—in fact, quite the opposite. Sucking him had only left me worse. Hotter. Looser. More of a slut, if I want to say it without dressing it up.

We came out and everyone looked at me differently. No longer as the friend in the group. They looked at me like a woman who had just knelt in a construction-site bathroom and swallowed one of their loads. And the worst part—or the best—was that I loved it.

—Don’t bother me with questions, I said, even though I was smiling.

—So you did suck him, Iker said.

—Yes.

There was one of those silences that last no time at all but carry a lot of weight. Then he asked the obvious question.

—What if I asked you?

I could have acted dignified. I could have stopped there and kept it as a story to tell. But my crotch was burning and my head was filled with the delicious vertigo of having crossed a line in front of everyone.

I nodded.

—Go in, I told him.

I went back into the bathroom with him, and this time I left the door only barely closed. It remained ajar. I did it on purpose. I wanted the others to see the shadow, hear the sounds, understand that I was in there swallowing a cock and waiting for the next one.

Iker came in laughing nervously. —I didn’t know you were such a bitch.

—And you didn’t know how much better off you’d be keeping quiet and getting it out.

He did it at once. This one was more curved, and just seeing it made me lick my lips. I gave the tip a couple of slow kisses, enjoying the way he shuddered, and then put it in my mouth without hurry, playing with my tongue around the head before taking him deeper.

He was the one who started talking too much. —What a slut you are... look at you... kneeling there...

Instead of offending me, it made me wetter. I lifted my skirt, slipped my hand inside my underwear, and began rubbing my clitoris while I sucked him. I felt obscene, shameless, completely surrendered to the lust of being used like that, with the others waiting their turn only a few steps away.

Iker held my hair and set a harder pace. He moved my head with his arm while I took him as deep as I could, letting saliva run down the base. I gagged now and then, but that only made him like it more. Every time I choked, he let out a hoarse moan and pushed me again.

—Swallow all of it, he ordered.

I did. I came first, rubbing myself quickly while I had him buried deep. The orgasm shot across my belly and made me squeeze my legs, trembling over the filthy toilet. That spasm in my mouth pushed him over the edge. He came with a long gasp, spilling an abundant load onto my tongue. Again, I swallowed everything.

When he came out, I stayed there for a second with my head tilted back, breathing deeply. My cheeks were hot, my crotch soaked, and I wore a smile of pure shamelessness.

—Let whoever wants to go next come in, I said.

***

The third one hesitated before entering. His name was Bruno, and he had always been the most serious of the group, the one who made jokes and then pretended to be composed. He stood in the doorway looking at me as if he still couldn’t believe what he was seeing: me sitting in that filthy bathroom, my hair slightly mussed, my lips wet, and my hand still between my legs.

—Are you sure? he asked.

—If you don’t want to, move aside and let someone else go.

That was enough. He closed the door a little farther, pulled down his pants, and took out a broad cock, shorter than the others but very hard. This time I didn’t wait. I knelt in front of him and pulled down his underwear too, impatiently.

I ran my tongue over his balls, moved up his shaft, and took him completely into my mouth in one motion. He muttered an insult through his teeth and put one hand against the wall to keep his balance. I was sucking him with real hunger now, no longer pretending to be shy, enjoying the sensation of having another cock filling my mouth while I touched my pussy with two fingers.

—Fuck, Dani... you look like you were made for this.

Maybe tonight I was, I thought.

I pushed my fingers inside myself and felt how wet I was. Very wet. So wet that the moist sound of my own hand mixed with the sound of my mouth on his cock. That noise drove him crazy. He grabbed the back of my neck and started taking my mouth in a clumsy, frantic rhythm, too fast. I let him, holding his hips and breathing through my nose while he filled my throat again and again.

It didn’t take long. He came with a violent jerk, directing part of his load onto my tongue and part onto my lips. I gathered it with my fingers and put it in my mouth. He watched me do it and let out an incredulous, exhausted laugh.

—You’re crazy.

—No. Horny.

He came out still adjusting his clothes, and the next one went in almost immediately. By that point, the order hardly mattered. I had stopped being “the friend” and become the center of that shared lust, and they were too turned on to hide it.

The fourth, Simón, had a cock so hard that it nearly brushed my cheek as soon as he came close. —Don’t make me wait, he said, and I liked the commanding tone he used.

I smiled at him wickedly. —Then don’t talk.

I gripped it firmly and began jerking him off while licking the tip. Then I sucked him faster, alternating deep swallows with long licks underneath. He kept moaning and whispering dirty things in my ear. I answered with my mouth full, looking up at him, enjoying the effect I had on him.

When he tried to come too soon, I pulled away for just a second. —Not yet.

—Don’t be such a bitch...

—I want to feel it throbbing first.

I took him back in and this time brought him to the edge with complete control. I used my tongue, lips, and hand in a coordination that was no longer improvised: it was pure vice. I felt him tense, felt the muscles in his abdomen tighten, felt him warn me without words that he was about to explode. Then I kept him deep inside and let him come fully, taking everything.

I had already swallowed four loads and, far from tiring, I felt even more aroused. My pussy was swollen, sensitive, throbbing. I needed more than just fingering myself, but I didn’t want to break the game. That night was about this: sucking, swallowing, displaying myself, and letting desire drag me along.

The fifth friend came in without pretending anymore. His breathing was fast and his expression openly hungry. He closed the door just enough to leave us both half-hidden and said:

—I want to watch you touch yourself while you suck me.

—Then watch me closely.

I hiked my skirt up to my waist, moved my underwear aside, and showed him my wet pussy beneath the yellowish light. Not completely naked, but open for him, for the bathroom, for the darkness outside where the others must have been imagining the scene. I slid two fingers inside and began fucking myself slowly while guiding his cock toward my mouth with my other hand.

That was enough to make him nearly double over with arousal. He thrust into me urgently, and I began sucking him while my fingers moved in and out of myself. Pleasure built quickly inside me, thick and animal. He insulted me between gasps, I moaned with my mouth occupied, and saliva ran down my chin.

—What a fucking view, he said. You look like a delicious slut.

I came again while sucking him. This time the orgasm left me truly trembling, my thighs weak and my belly clenched. My mouth kept working almost on instinct until he exploded too. His cum filled me so much that some escaped from the corner of my mouth. I cleaned it with my tongue before swallowing.

When he came out, I leaned against the wall for a moment and breathed deeply. I had already taken five, and there was still one more outside, hesitating over whether to come in. I smiled at the thought of his face.

***

The last one was Leo, the quietest of them all. He came in slowly, closed the door, and stood in front of me without speaking. Unlike the others, he didn’t rush in right away. He looked me up and down as if he wanted to imprint the scene on his mind: my tousled hair, my raised skirt, my swollen lips, my expression of satisfied lust that still wasn’t quite satisfied.

—Are you going to ask me for it too, or are you embarrassed? I asked him.

He shook his head and silently pulled out his cock. It was hard and heavy, its tip wet. I moved toward him first, caressed it with my palm, and then slowly ran my tongue around it, savoring that different kind of pause. He held my chin with two fingers, not to dominate me, but to make me look at him.

—I want to watch you put it in your mouth yourself.

I obeyed. I opened wide and lowered myself until I was full. Slowly, deeply, without looking away from his eyes. That gesture broke something inside him. His breathing changed completely. He held my hair back and let me work at my own pace while I sucked him calmly, running my tongue over him, tightening my lips, alternating depth with short strokes on the tip.

Paradoxically, it was the most intimate blowjob of the night and also one of the hottest. Because there were no longer any nerves, jokes, or challenges. There was only the direct pleasure of feeling a hard cock in my mouth and knowing exactly how to bring it to the edge.

Leo ended up bracing one hand against the wall and the other on my shoulder. —I’m not going to last, he warned me.

I sped up deliberately. I pulled it out just enough to spit on the tip, then put it back in with a wet sound that drove us both wild. He let out a deep moan, held me tightly, and began thrusting with restrained need—not violently, but no longer in control.

His orgasm was the most intense of all. He emptied himself in several pulses, trembling all over, and I took every last drop, swallowing slowly and feeling the warmth slide down my throat. When he finished, he didn’t pull away immediately. He stayed there looking at me as if he had just discovered something new in me—or in himself.

—Now I believe you when you say you like it, he murmured.

I stood up slowly. My legs were weak and my clothes were disheveled. I adjusted his pants with obscene naturalness, then tidied myself up a little before going out.

When I opened the door, the others turned to look at me again. No one laughed this time. There was a kind of filthy respect in the air, as if they all understood that what had happened in that bathroom had been simple, brutal, and very real.

We left the construction site shortly afterward. Some air was already moving outside, and the street was almost empty. I walked home with my pussy still throbbing and the taste of all of them mixed in my mouth. None of them tried to play the hero or turn it into some grand story. Maybe that’s why I remember it so much.

I knew what had happened: it wasn’t just a one-night act of madness. It was the first time I allowed myself to enjoy, without disguising it, my taste for oral sex, for shared lust, for that exact point where shame breaks and all that remains is hunger.

Since then I’ve done more intense things, more elaborate things, even dirtier things. But few have left me with that direct a feeling of having found a part of myself in an absurd place, among cement, damp magazines, and six adult men waiting their turn while I decided, with my mouth and a smile, that that night I wanted to swallow it all.