The Nighttime Bet Camila Should Never Have Accepted

Camila looked at herself one last time in the bathroom mirror, adjusting the black leather pants until they clung to her legs like a second skin. The red top molded to her breasts, and the lipstick in the same shade gave her that recently divorced-woman look that no longer asked anyone for permission. It had been only three weeks since she had signed the papers with Sergio.

Tonight I’m not staying home again.

Her phone vibrated on the sink. It was Lucía.

—Cami, come on down already. Mateo’s been circling the block because he can’t find anywhere to park.

—I’m coming out. I’m putting on my heels.

—Hurry up. And tell me if you want me to change. I’ve got a new burgundy dress that’s dangerous.

—Wear it. If we go, we’re going all the way.

Mateo had been tempting her with that outing for days: two friends of his, two young officers with a taste for going off the rails on a Friday. After the divorce, any excuse was good enough not to sleep alone again.

***

The car that picked them up wasn’t the one Camila had expected. A gleaming gray SUV with black rims and a spotless interior. Mateo drove with that mischievous-boy smile that only pulled up one corner of his mouth.

—And this luxury? —Lucía asked as she climbed into the front seat—. Did you hit the lottery?

—Installments, baby. But the loan is being paid by Future Mateo —he answered, and turned his head to introduce the man sitting in the back seat, right beside Camila—. Girls, this is Damián. He works with me. He’s the best there is.

Damián had dark skin, almond-shaped eyes, and a white silk shirt that looked freshly pressed. He smelled like expensive cologne and something else, a promise hard to put into words. Camila felt something run down her back when he shook her hand and held it a second longer than necessary.

—Nice to meet you —he said in a deep voice that didn’t need to be raised—. Mateo spoke highly of you.

—Good things, I assume?

—Enough for me to say yes to the date.

***

The nightclub was packed to the door, but Mateo barely nodded to the bouncer and the line opened up. Inside, the bass thudded in their chests and the purple lights turned every face into a more dangerous version of itself. They ordered four drinks at the bar and immediately split into pairs, as if the plan had already been written before they left.

Damián led Lucía to the dance floor when the DJ dropped a salsa track. Camila watched them out of the corner of her eye: he held her by the waist with a technique that didn’t come from two dance lessons, and Lucía laughed with her head thrown back. Mateo, meanwhile, came up beside Camila and laid a hand on her hip.

—How’s single life treating you?

—Better than marriage. That already says a lot.

—I told you I’d make you forget the bad taste.

—Saying it is one thing, Mateo. Proving it is another.

He let out a rough laugh and put his mouth to her ear.

—Hold on a little longer. The night hasn’t even started yet.

Before Camila could answer, a hand grabbed her arm from behind and spun her around hard. Sergio. Her ex-husband had his shirt open to the navel, red eyes, and the stink of cheap whiskey on his breath.

—Look at you, Camila. Is this where you come to show off? Who did you leave the kid with?

—He’s with my mother. And you don’t get to ask me anything anymore, Sergio. Get lost.

—Get lost? How long does your mourning last, huh? A week?

Mateo stepped between them, never taking his eyes off Sergio’s. His voice dropped three tones and turned icy.

—Listen carefully, man. You’re bothering people. Turn around and disappear before I explain how we handle things at my job.

Sergio put a hand in his pocket and pulled out a switchblade. The click of the blade opening cut through the music for everyone within a ten-foot radius. Before Mateo could react, Damián appeared behind him, caught his arm, and twisted it behind his back in one sharp motion. Sergio howled and the knife fell to the floor.

—Stay still, Sergio. You’ve already fucked this up enough.

Two bouncers came over a few seconds later and dragged her ex-husband away. Camila stood there trembling, but it wasn’t from fear. It was something else. Watching those two men stop someone who had made her feel invisible for six years heated something deep in her stomach. She felt her cunt getting wet beneath the black leather, the fabric suddenly sticking to her swollen lips.

—Relax, it’s over now —Mateo told her, stroking her cheek—. That guy is the past. Tonight you’re with us.

***

By three in the morning the club was done for. Mateo signaled Damián from the bar and a minute later all four were outside waiting for the SUV. Lucía had glossy lips from all the kissing, and Damián had an arm around her waist as if every inch of her belonged to him.

—Where are we going? —Camila asked, already feeling a tingle between her legs she could barely hide.

—To Damián’s place —Mateo answered—. He’s got an apartment on the eleventh floor with a view. And we’re still hungry.

The ride was short. Inside the car, Damián slid his hand under Lucía’s dress without hesitation, yanked her panties aside, and sank two fingers into her cunt while biting her neck. Lucía let out a muffled moan she buried against his shoulder, and within seconds she was grinding her hips against Damián’s wrist, seeking him out, riding his hand like a bitch in heat. In the back seat, Camila felt Mateo pull her toward him and bite her lower lip. He ran his tongue along her neck, the hollow of her collarbone, the start of her neckline, and with one hand he squeezed a breast over the red top until her nipple stood hard against the fabric. He lowered his other hand and slipped it between her legs, squeezing her cunt through the leather. Camila arched her back against the seat.

—You’re soaking, you little slut —Mateo whispered in her ear, biting her earlobe—. I barely even touched you and you’re already dripping on me.

—Shut up and keep going —she answered through clenched teeth, grabbing his wrist so he wouldn’t pull away.

By the time they stopped at the building entrance, Camila was soaked to the bone, her thong glued to her cunt and her legs trembling from the effort of not coming in the seat.

***

Damián’s apartment was a temple. Dark wood floors, a black leather sofa, a low marble table in the center, everything in its exact place, as if no one lived there. It smelled of sandalwood and something clean Camila couldn’t name.

—And the chaos you talked about? —Lucía asked, taking off her heels without asking permission.

—I lied —Damián admitted, pouring four gin drinks—. But something tells me tonight the chaos is going to come from the four of us.

Mateo, meanwhile, had found a deck of cards on a shelf. He flicked it in the air with that boyish grin of someone who knew he was going to win.

—Strip poker. What do you say, girls?

—You’re cheaters —Lucía protested—. You’ll have us naked in five minutes.

—If you lose, that’s not so bad either —Camila murmured, looking Damián in the eyes. He lifted his glass in silence, toasting her with his gaze.

They started seated around the low table. The first hand Damián lost. He took off the silk shirt with exasperating calm and revealed a lean, sculpted torso, with a thin scar crossing his left side. Lucía licked her lips without hiding it and her eyes went straight to the bulge visible in his pants.

The second hand the girls lost. Lucía let the burgundy dress fall away and remained in a black lace set clinging to her skin. Camila took off her heels and, two hands later, the leather pants. She felt the cold rug under her bare feet and a shiver that had nothing to do with cold. Mateo came up behind her and ran his nose along her neck.

—You taste like danger, Camila. And I love it.

***

When only the smallest scraps of clothing were left, Mateo slapped the cards down on the table.

—Last hand, girls. The final one. If we lose, we run naked down the avenue. The whole neighborhood can see us.

—And if we lose? —Lucía asked, her voice thick.

—You two suck our cocks right here, both of you —Damián answered, never taking his eyes off them—. On your knees, down to the last drop. No interruptions.

Camila and Lucía looked at each other. Neither of them smiled. They stood up at the same time and went out to the balcony, closing the glass door behind them. Outside, the cool pre-dawn air raised goosebumps on their skin.

—We’re crazy if we accept —Camila whispered.

—We’re worse off if we don’t accept —Lucía replied, staring straight at her—. Are you seeing those two? I am not going home with a vibrator tonight, I swear. I want to suck the black guy’s dick, look at how I’m saying it to you.

Whatever happens, happens.

They went back into the living room with the decision written on their faces. Mateo dealt. There was one of those silences that hurt. Lucía showed a pair of queens. Camila laid down the last card: a two of clubs. Mateo lifted his own with cruel calm: straight to the ace.

—Well, girls —Damián said, already taking off his pants—. This is where the other part of the night begins.

***

Camila knelt on the rug between Mateo’s legs. She pulled his boxers down with her teeth, without urgency, and his hard cock sprang up into her face, thick, the vein running visibly from top to bottom and the head already beaded with fluid. She looked him in the eyes while she ran her tongue from his balls to the glans, slowly, sucking first one and then the other, listening to him moan. Then she took him all the way in. He grabbed her hair with both hands and guided her face against his cock with a firmness that admitted no doubt. Camila opened her throat wider and swallowed him to the back, feeling the heat slam into her tonsils. Her eyes filled with tears and saliva dripped down her chin. Mateo let out a groan that vibrated in his chest.

—Such a good little slut. Suck all of it, yeah, like that, with your tongue, don’t let it go.

Camila moved her head up and down, helping herself with her hand at the base, squeezing and twisting her wrist in the same rhythm as her mouth. Every time he hit the back, she made a guttural sound that vibrated along his cock and Mateo’s toes curled. She pulled his dick out of her mouth for a second, looked at it glistening with spit, and took it back in, this time slapping her cheek with it before swallowing it again.

Beside them, Lucía was doing her part with Damián. Her hands were resting on his dark thighs, her head moving up and down in a slow, almost devout rhythm. Damián’s cock was black, long, thicker than Mateo’s, and Lucía could barely close her mouth around it. Damián stroked her red hair with one hand and with the other gradually lowered her bra, until her nipples were bare, hard, pointing upward. He pinched one between thumb and forefinger and Lucía moaned with her mouth full.

—That’s it, redhead, take responsibility. All the way in. Make yourself cry.

Lucía answered the challenge. She grabbed her mane with both hands, tossed it back, and took him down to the root. A gag slipped out of her, mascara smudged, but she didn’t let up. Damián placed his palm on the back of her neck and held her there for a few seconds, feeling how her throat tightened and contracted. When he let go, Lucía sucked in a breath with her mouth open and took him back in with a wet smile.

Mateo grabbed Camila’s face and lifted it. Her red lips were swollen, a thread of saliva hanging from them, her eyes glassy.

—Come up here. I want you inside, now.

He set her on top of him, facing Damián and Lucía. He yanked the red thong apart with two fingers, ripping it at the side, and guided her by the hips until she sank onto his cock all at once. Camila threw her head back and let out a long, rough cry, feeling her cunt open all at once to take the entire shaft inside. Mateo squeezed her hips and began setting the rhythm from below, thrusting upward in short, deep strokes that made her clit slam against his pubic bone.

—Look at me fucking you, slut. Look at you taking all of it.

—Yes, like that, like that, don’t stop, give it to me harder.

—Look at your friend, Camila. Look at her properly.

Lucía had settled against the arm of the sofa on all fours, her back to Damián, who held her by the waist with one hand and pressed her head down against the leather with the other. The black cock slid in and out of her, gleaming, dripping from how wet Lucía was. The slapping sounds, the hard impact of pelvises, and her muffled moans against the sofa filled the room. Her red hair was spread across the black leather and her tits shook with every thrust. When she saw Camila watching her, she blew her a kiss.

—This is for you, Cami! —Lucía shouted, laughing between gasps—. Look at how they’re fucking me, look how good it feels!

Damián withdrew for a moment, grabbed his cock, and slapped her ass with it three times. Lucía shrieked and stuck out her tongue. Then he drove back in with one hard thrust and the breath was knocked out of her lungs.

—Tell her, redhead. Tell your friend how much you like it.

—I love it, Cami, he’s splitting me open, you have no idea how big he is, you have no idea...

Camila, on Mateo, was moving on her own now, riding him, going up and down with her hands braced on his pectorals. She could feel every inch of the cock inside her, the vein rubbing against the wall of her cunt, the glans hammering a deep spot that drove her wild. Mateo took her breasts one by one and sucked on them, biting her nipples until she screamed.

—What an ass you’ve got, Camila, Jesus Christ.

He smacked one cheek hard. Then the other. Then he spread one cheek open with his hand and ran his thumb, wet with saliva, over her asshole, pressing only lightly. Camila shuddered all over and let out a new, different moan.

—I like that too, you bastard. That too.

—We’ll see about that, princess. The night’s long.

***

At some point they mixed together. Mateo stood up with Camila hanging from his waist, never slipping out, and carried her to the sofa, where he set her beside Lucía. The two ended up face to face, wrapped around each other, breasts pressed together, while the men positioned themselves behind them. Camila felt Mateo bite the nape of her neck and enter her with a slow, deep thrust that drew a moan against Lucía’s mouth. Her friend came closer and kissed her: tongues, painted lips, the taste of gin and both their cocks, all of it became one thing. They licked each other, bit each other’s lips, and both moaned into the other’s mouth with every thrust.

—You’re so fucking delicious —Lucía whispered, running a hand over her chest and pinching her nipple between her fingers—. I don’t want this to end. Suck my tits, Cami, come on.

Camila lowered her mouth and trapped one nipple, sucking hard, biting it, teasing it with her tongue. Lucía arched and gave a cry that was pure pleasure. Behind her, Damián grabbed a lock of hair and tugged gently, forcing her to lift her face.

—Look at how he’s fucking her, Lucía. Look closely at Mateo fucking your friend.

Mateo sped up. The blows of his pelvis against Camila’s ass echoed through the living room. Her hands were braced on Lucía’s thighs and her eyes were closed, surrendered to the rhythm. She felt the cock go in to the hilt, come out almost all the way, and slam back in. Her head was going fuzzy.

—Not done yet. Switch, Damián, I want to try the other one.

The two men pulled away at the same time, leaving the girls empty for a second. Camila turned her head and saw Damián come up behind her. He opened her legs with his knee, ran his fingers through her dripping cunt to lubricate the tip of his cock against her, and with one thrust buried it in her to the balls. Camila opened her mouth without a sound coming out: he was much bigger, much thicker, and she felt him reach a place no one had ever touched before.

—Jesus fucking Christ... Damián... you’re going to split me...

—Take it, princess. Take it, this is only the beginning.

Mateo had settled behind Lucía and was grabbing her hips while he fucked her with hard, noisy thrusts. The two friends kept kissing, tongues tangled together, but now the moans were different: deeper, longer, broken. Damián grabbed Camila by the chin, turned her face, and kissed her deeply while continuing to drive into her from behind, never slowing, marking her cunt with every thrust.

—Do you like this cock, Camila? Tell me.

—I love it, I love it, never take it out.

—You’re going to be ruined for the next one. After this there’s no going back.

Camila’s mind could no longer fully tell whose hand was whose. She only felt two big palms on her hips, one hot mouth on her back, and Lucía in front of her, kissing her, holding her. The apartment air had become so charged that every breath felt heavy. There was the smell of sweat, of semen not yet spent, of thick sex.

—I’m coming, Mateo... I’m coming! —Lucía screamed, arching with a tremor that ran through her whole body. Her cunt contracted around Mateo’s cock so hard he let out a roar and gave her three more brutal thrusts, then emptied himself inside her with an animal groan. Lucía felt the heat of his cum flooding her and let herself fall against Camila, shaking, her face wet.

Damián didn’t let up. He had put a hand on the back of Camila’s neck, pressing her face against Lucía’s shoulder, and he was driving into her with faster and faster thrusts. He slid his other hand around to the front and found her clit with two fingers, starting tight circles without slowing his hips. Camila felt the orgasm rise like a wave from deep inside, long, animal, unstoppable.

—Here it comes, here it comes, don’t stop, you bastard, don’t stop...

She pressed her mouth into Lucía’s shoulder and let go, biting, moaning, her cunt contracting in spasms around the black cock that kept hammering her from behind. Her legs were dripping. She felt Damián tense, grab both her hips with both hands, and with a guttural growl empty his hot cum inside her, shot after shot, not pulling out until the last shudder.

When he finally withdrew, a thick thread of semen ran down the inside of Camila’s thigh. Lucía saw it, licked her lips, and ran two fingers along it to take them into her mouth without taking her eyes off her.

—Delicious, Cami. Very delicious.

***

The oven clock read eight when all four of them stepped into the shower. Water poured over them while they laughed softly, exhausted, trading slow kisses that weren’t looking for anything anymore. Camila leaned against Damián’s chest and let him run his fingers through her hair. Mateo nipped at Lucía’s neck with a tenderness that seemed impossible after the whole night.

When they came out, each of them dressed in silence. Damián hugged Mateo with a clap on the back and said goodbye to the girls with a kiss on the cheek. Mateo drove each of them home. Camila was leaning against the car window, eyes closed, with a smile that wouldn’t fade.

—You coming back? —Mateo asked when they reached the door of her building.

—I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not.

—Let me know. I’ll set up the next one again.

Camila got out of the car without answering. She climbed the stairs slowly, feeling every muscle. Before getting into the shower for the second time, she looked at her phone and smiled. A message from Lucía, just sent: “Cami, I can’t believe it. When again?” Camila left it there, still unanswered. After six years of a gray marriage, that question was everything she needed to read that morning.