The Night Sandra Discovered What She Wanted

It was late October, and Berlin was already showing its teeth: cutting wind as you crossed the Spree, granite skies closing in by four in the afternoon, and that feeling that winter doesn’t ask permission to move in. It had been just over a month since the night with Kofi at Tresor, and although on the surface I had gone back to my master’s routine — classes, library, cheap dinners in the flat — my head kept going back there. To how he’d shoved me against the bathroom wall. To how he yanked my panties down and drove his cock into me all the way without warning. To the sensation of being split in two, with my cheek pressed to the cold tiles and his fingers dug into my hips. To that mix of pain, fullness, and wanting more that hadn’t left me since.

I was not the same girl who had arrived in Berlin in September with a backpack full of enthusiasm and a basic German dictionary. That girl no longer existed, or at least she was no longer the only one living inside me.

***

My flatmate was called Sandra. She was from Málaga, 22 years old, with brown skin that took colour well, dark straight hair that fell just below her shoulders, and almost black eyes that always seemed to be processing something nobody else could see. She was thin in that way that makes people seem more fragile than they are: narrow shoulders, subtle hips, small, firm tits she never displayed. She dressed almost the same all the time — dark jeans, oversized jumper, black boots — as if she preferred to blend into the background.

She spoke little with strangers, but when she felt comfortable she was brutally direct. She had been out of a four-year relationship for three months. Her ex was one of those men who confuse comfort with love, and when she dumped him she was left with that feeling of someone walking out of a poorly ventilated room and not quite knowing how to breathe differently. Since then she looked at men with a mix of curiosity and caution. She had Tinder installed but never swiped. We went out to dinner, sometimes to a bar in Mitte, but we always got back before midnight.

That night — a cold Tuesday, with two Heinekens on the balcony table and the grey city in the distance — I told her about Kofi without filters. Everything. The Tresor bathroom. The cold tiles against my cheek. How he had ripped my panties off and stuffed them in my mouth so I wouldn’t scream. How he bent me over the sink, spread my arse with both hands and drove that huge black cock into me in one thrust, without asking permission. How he split me in two and I kept begging for more, biting my knuckles so I wouldn’t howl. I told her the taste of his cum when I sucked him off afterwards, how he let it drip onto my tongue and made me swallow it while looking me in the eyes. I told her the details people usually keep to themselves, because I felt Sandra needed to hear them.

She listened in silence, bottle between her fingers, lips slightly parted. Her breath steamed into the cold balcony air. I watched her cross her legs and press one thigh against the other.

—Fuck —she said at last, in a very low voice. —I’ve never felt anything like that. Not even close.

I looked at her steadily.

—Never? Didn’t Pablo ever fuck you properly?

—Pablo made love to me. —She paused, gave a short grimace. —On top of me, five minutes, the same movements, and then sleep. He’s never put his tongue on my cunt. Never grabbed my hair. Never made me come twice in a row. Everything was correct and boring and always the same.

—And what do you feel when I tell you this?

She swallowed.

—I get wet —she said, not looking away. —I’ve been getting wet for twenty minutes.

I set the bottle on the railing.

—On Saturday there’s a party in a warehouse in Friedrichshain. Dark techno, until sunrise. Kofi usually shows up there. And if not, we’ll fend for ourselves.

Sandra looked at me for a moment, weighing it up.

—And if at some point I want to leave?

—I’ll walk you out without a word of complaint.

She nodded slowly, eyes fixed on the city’s dark sky.

—Okay. I’m in.

***

On Saturday we got ready in the flat. I went straight for it: black long-sleeved bodysuit with an open back, no bra, my nipples pressing against the stretchy fabric; a leather miniskirt that fell to mid-thigh, black string thong underneath, and knee-high boots. Sandra hesitated for quite a while in front of the wardrobe. She tried on three different combinations before settling on very tight black jeans that outlined her cunt, a thin camisole with nothing underneath, and the brown suede jacket she almost never wore. She’d made up her eyes more than usual.

—I’m not wearing a bra —she muttered, looking at herself in the mirror, her hard nipples showing through the fabric. —Is it very obvious?

—Only just —I told her. —You’re getting fucked tonight, Sandra.

She laughed, nervously, but didn’t argue.

We arrived at the warehouse shortly after one. The queue was short and serious: leather, vinyl, industrial piercings, the smell of cold cigarettes and something sweeter floating around unidentified. The girl at the door looked us over for three seconds and let us in without a word. Inside, the bass was physical — you felt it in your sternum before your brain processed it as sound — and the darkness was almost total except for the strobing lights blinking mercilessly.

We got onto the dance floor. I let go immediately, as always: arms up, not looking at anyone, just letting myself be carried. Sandra at first only danced with her shoulders, taking everything in with those big eyes. But techno does that: it unravels your stiffness little by little without you noticing, until suddenly you’ve spent half an hour with your eyes closed.

Then Tobias appeared.

Blond, skinny, tattoos on his neck, about 28. He started dancing near me without crowding me, that tactic of brushing without touching that either irritates you or draws you in. It drew me in. I played along. Sandra understood the situation immediately and shifted a step, giving us space but not moving away.

Tobias grabbed me around the waist from behind. I felt his hard cock against my arse through the leather.

—Du tanzt sehr gut —he said in my ear.

—You too —I answered in Spanish, turning toward him and rubbing slowly against his bulge.

He was staring at my lips. I slid two fingers into the waistband of his jeans and squeezed him for a second. He was hard as a rock.

—Come with me for a second? —he asked, nodding toward a darker area at the back.

I leaned toward Sandra.

—I’m going for ten minutes. Don’t move from here, okay?

She nodded with a smile that was half nervous and half something else. Her eyes were shining.

Tobias led me behind some columns, to a corner where there was a wooden bench and the darkness was almost complete. He sat me down, spread my legs with his knees, lifted my skirt to my waist and stood there for a second looking at the black thong fabric, already dark with dampness.

—Scheiße —he murmured. —You’re soaked.

—Shut up and put it in.

He moved the thong aside with one finger and ran his thumb over my clit. I arched all over. Then he slid in one finger, then two, all the way, curling them upward, searching for that spot that makes me shiver. I opened his fly and took out his cock: white, straight, a good size, the tip already leaking. I spat in his hand and stroked him slowly while he finger-fucked me faster and faster, rubbing my clit with his thumb at a brutal pace.

—Look at me —he said in German, gripping the back of my neck with his other hand.

I looked at him. I came on his fingers with a muffled moan, squeezing his cock in my fist, feeling myself gush down my thigh and wet his palm. He drove his fingers in deep through the whole orgasm, never stopping the rubbing.

Then he gently pushed my head downward. I knelt on the dirty floor, pulled his jeans down to mid-thigh, and took his cock into my mouth in one go, all the way to the throat. I heard him let out a curse through clenched teeth. I sucked him slowly at first, pulling him all the way out and swallowing him again, licking the head and frenulum with my tongue flat, salivating his balls. When I felt him tense, I picked up the pace: hand at the base squeezing, mouth moving up and down fast and wet, cheeks hollowed out, tongue circling the tip every time it came back out.

—I’m coming —he said, grabbing my hair.

—Inside —I answered with his cock still in my mouth.

He came in several hot pulses against my palate. It tasted of salt and something metallic. I swallowed what I could, licked up what escaped, cleaned the tip with my tongue until it shone. I stood up with my legs a little weak and a thick taste in my mouth, pulled my skirt down and went back out to the dance floor.

Sandra was exactly where I had left her, with a new beer in her hand.

—Good? —she asked very quietly.

—Efficient —I said, laughing. —You?

—I’ve been watching. —A short pause. —I saw you from here. How you came. How you took him all the way into your mouth.

—And?

—That my thong is soaked and I don’t know if I’m going to last much longer.

I laughed. I brushed my thumb over her lower lip.

—Hold on a little longer.

***

It was almost five when I saw him.

Kofi was in the centre of the dance floor, dancing with that effortless way of his that takes up space without seeming to try. At least six foot three, broad shoulders, dark skin glistening under the flashing lights. Sleeveless top, tattooed arms, his neck slightly tilted as if he were listening to the music from inside. He danced without looking at anyone, completely inside the rhythm.

Then he saw us.

He smiled in that way of his — slow, confident, completely unhurried — and came over, cutting through the floor with ease.

—Hey —he said, looking at me. —I knew you’d come back.

—I couldn’t not —I answered. —Kofi, this is Sandra. My flatmate.

He turned to her. Looked her up and down calmly, pausing on the nipples outlined under her top, not pretending not to notice but not making her uncomfortable either, like someone appreciating without wanting anything yet.

—Sandra —he repeated, as if tasting the name. —You dance?

She swallowed.

—A little.

Kofi held out his hand to her. Then he took mine with the other. He led us to the side of the floor where the columns formed a kind of dark corridor, away from the bulk of the crowd. The wall was cold and rough. The bass still reverberated from below as if it were coming from the building’s guts.

He kissed me first. Long, with his hand on the back of my neck, exactly like the first time. He pushed his tongue deep into my mouth and squeezed my arse with the other hand, lifting my skirt until my thong was out on show. Then he turned to Sandra and placed two fingers under her chin very gently.

—May I? —he said.

She nodded. He kissed her slowly, exploring, unhurried. He slid his tongue into her mouth with the same calm as a long drink of water. He let his hand travel down her neck, brushed a nipple through her top and pinched it softly between two fingers. Sandra closed her eyes and made a tiny sound against his mouth, almost a muffled whimper. I saw her knees tremble.

Kofi pulled back a little and looked at her without saying anything.

—Yes —Sandra said before he could ask. —Yes, whatever you want.

Kofi pulled down the zipper and took out his cock. No panties, no nothing, straight away.

Sandra froze for a moment. She opened her eyes wide.

—Oh my God —she murmured.

She wasn’t exaggerating. I remembered it exactly like that: long, very thick, slightly curved, with that huge swollen head, veins standing out along the dark shaft. Imposing even in the dimness of that corner. Two heavy balls hung beneath it, and the base was almost as wide as my wrist.

—Does that fit? —Sandra asked louder than she meant to. —Fuck, that doesn’t fit.

—It fits —I said. —I promise. It hurts at first. But it fits.

—My cunt’s tiny…

—Even better —Kofi told her with a very slow smile. —I’m going to open you up slowly.

Sandra let out a tiny moan just from hearing him say it.

I knelt first. I took him into my mouth with both hands at the base, moving my tongue slowly along the underside, tasting the salty, clean flavour of his skin. The tip barely fit. I took him in as far as I could and brought his cock out shining with saliva, tapping it against my cheek. Sandra hesitated for a second and then knelt beside me. I looked at her. She was looking at Kofi, who watched us with half-lidded eyes and a calmer-than-usual breath.

—Together —he said, in a very low voice. —Both at once.

We started licking him at the same time, slowly. Our tongues brushed around him, we licked the same thick vein moving up and down, we met at the head and took turns sharing it. He held our hair with both hands, not pushing yet, just setting the rhythm. I lowered Kofi’s balls and took one in my mouth, sucking it slowly while Sandra kept working his cock. I heard him let out a breath through his nose.

—Fuck, yes —he murmured.

Sandra didn’t know what she was doing at first, but she learned fast. She took his cock as far as she could, cheeks hollowed out, eyes closed, and drew it back with a string of saliva hanging from it. She slobbered all over it until it shone from top to bottom. I saw her gag when she tried to swallow him whole, but she didn’t let go. Kofi held her head carefully.

—Slowly —he told her. —You’ve got all night.

I ran my tongue along Sandra’s cheek while she had his cock in her mouth, and licked him all over to the corner of her mouth. She turned her face and kissed me with his cock still between us, and we made out like that, with Kofi’s tongue coming in and out of the kiss. We were both a mess of saliva, smudged lipstick, hair stuck to our cheeks.

Then he pulled me to my feet and turned me toward the wall. He ripped off my thong without ceremony — I heard it tear — and lifted one leg, propping it against the wall. He ran the tip along my entrance, first rubbing it over my soaked cunt, sliding it up and down between my lips until the head shone with my slick. I felt him press against my opening and stop.

—Ask for it —he said in my ear.

—Put it in me.

—More.

—Put it all in me, Kofi. All the way in. Fuck me.

He pushed. Slowly, centimetre by centimetre, opening me like he had done before. The pressure was brutal, that sensation of being stretched to the limit. My forehead was against the wall and my hands were dug into the roughness while he kept going in, and when I felt his balls pressed against me I knew he was all the way inside. I let out a long moan against the concrete.

—Stop for a second —I asked.

He stopped. Waited. I took two deep breaths, feeling everything between my legs pulsing, feeling my cunt throb around his cock.

—Now yes. Hard.

He started moving with a deep, brutal rhythm, gripping my hip with one hand and bracing the other against the wall over my shoulder. Every thrust pushed me forward and then gave me a dry slap of pleasure in the belly on the way back. I could hear his balls slapping against my cunt every time he drove into me all the way. Sandra came up beside us. She kissed my neck, ran her hand over my stomach and slipped two fingers between my thighs to feel Kofi opening me from behind, his cock sliding in and out of me slick with my wetness.

—My God, he’s huge —Sandra murmured. —He’s splitting you open.

—Lick me —I asked her.

She crouched down in front of me, got under my raised leg and opened me with her tongue. She licked my clit in slow circles, deliciously insistent, and every now and then she licked Kofi’s cock when it came out of me. It was new to her; I could tell. But she gave it such eagerness that it made up for everything else. I grabbed her hair and set the pace against my cunt.

—Deeper —I told her. —Put your tongue in.

She obeyed. She licked me with a hunger that had nothing to do with the Sandra from the flat. She sucked my clit, nipped it softly, put two fingers inside me at the same time. I could see her open wide, Kofi’s black cock going in and out between her arse cheeks, shining with my wetness. The strobe lights froze us in pieces: Sandra’s arched arse, Kofi’s cock driving in, his hand gripping her waist, my hand in her hair.

Sandra came first, with a muffled moan against my thigh. Her legs trembled. Her white knuckles crunched against the concrete. I felt her tongue press against my clit in the spasm, and heard her make an animal sound against my cunt.

Kofi didn’t stop. He kept fucking her, now setting a slower, deeper rhythm, letting her feel every centimetre. Sandra was still with her face between my thighs, panting, licking me at a much more chaotic pace.

—I’m coming —Kofi said. —Where?

—Inside —Sandra answered without lifting her face. —Come inside.

Kofi gripped her hips with both hands, gave her three final thrusts that made her slide against the column, and came inside her, letting the air out slowly through his nose. I saw him tense, his neck straining, veins standing out. He pumped his cum deep into her. When he pulled out, a white stream was running down Sandra’s thigh. It was dripping as far as her knee.

—Fuck —Sandra murmured.

I bent down and licked it clean with my tongue, from her knee to her cunt. Sandra let out a new moan.

Then it was my turn again. Kofi didn’t waste a minute. He pumped himself twice and had him hard again, shining with his own cum and Sandra’s wetness. He grabbed my arm, pulled me up, set me against him from behind, lifted one leg and drove his cock into me from below in one thrust. I felt him all at once, hot, slippery.

—Fuck —I gasped.

—Ride —he told me in my ear.

I started moving myself, going up and down on him, astride him backwards, my back against his chest. He was grabbing my tits beneath the bodysuit, pinching my nipples, biting my neck. Sandra knelt in front of us and started licking my clit while I rode Kofi’s cock. Every so often she stopped and licked him, sucked his balls when they were visible again, then came back to me. A confidence she hadn’t had an hour before.

I came with my eyes closed, screaming into Kofi’s hand over my mouth. Squeezing everything at once: my cunt around his cock, my teeth in his palm, my nails in his thighs. I felt Kofi tense again behind me, felt his fingers dig into my hip, and he came inside me in long pulses, growling low in my ear. He pulled out with a wet jerk. Sandra was down there ready, and I spread my legs for her to lick the cum running down my thigh.

***

We left when Berlin’s sky was beginning to turn that dirty, cold grey that announces dawn without any glamour. The three of us walked to the nearest canal in silence, hands linked in whatever way happened, not talking about what had happened because there was no need. I could feel my cunt open, throbbing, and a thread of cum drying on my thigh. Sandra walked a little crooked.

She squeezed my fingers.

—Thank you —she said very quietly. —For bringing me.

—Good? —I asked.

It took her a while to answer. She was looking at the dark water of the canal, the distorted reflection of the streetlamps.

—More than good. Completely unlike anything I knew. I’ve been fucking for four years and I didn’t know sex could be like this.

—Like what?

—Having cum drip down my leg. Having you lick me. Being split open and still wanting more. Having someone come in my mouth and liking swallowing it.

I laughed softly.

Kofi looked at the two of us from the other side.

—Next time —he said —my apartment. Big bed, no rush, and nobody to bother us. I’m going to fuck both of you properly, side by side.

Sandra and I looked at each other.

—When are you free? —she asked.

Kofi smiled, unhurried.

—This week.

Neither of us said no.