I Gave My Thong to a Stranger at the Club

I woke up close to noon with a dry mouth, a hangover pounding at my temples, and an oversized T-shirt as my only clothing. My red thong, lying on the floor beside the bed, still held the dampness from the night before. I remembered scattered fragments: the nightclub, one drink too many, a stranger, a bathroom. The rest came back in pieces, late and little by little.

I showered with warm water, trying to clear my head. When I came out, wrapped in a towel, my cellphone vibrated on the bathroom counter. It was Camila, my best friend for years, the one who always found out everything that happened to me before it had even finished happening.

“Well, well, good morning, you little slut,” she blurted from the other end, with that laugh of hers that already announced an interrogation. “Can I ask what time you got home?”

“Shut up, I can barely open my eyes,” I replied, letting myself fall onto the bed.

“Tell me already. You disappeared last night. Marta told me you left at three and stayed behind with the guys.”

“I stayed,” I admitted. “And everything happened.”

“What do you mean, everything? Start at the beginning.”

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. The scene came back on its own, as vivid as if it were still happening.

“We went out early, you know. By eleven I already had two drinks in me. When Marta and Sara said they were leaving, I didn’t even feel like moving from the club. I stayed with Bruno, Diego, and the rest. After a while I realized they were busy with their own thing, flirting with some girls at the bar, while I was staring at the dance floor like an idiot.”

“And that’s when you saw him.”

“That’s when I saw him. A tall guy in a black shirt, leaning against the bar. I’d never seen him in my life. He stared at me as if he were undressing me with his eyes. At first I turned my head to pretend I hadn’t noticed, but every time I looked up again, he was still there, never taking his eyes off me.”

“Shameless.”

“Very shameless. And he was turning me on. I’ve gone almost three months without sleeping with anyone, Cami. Three months. Any spark sets me off. I started dancing by myself, circling near my group, and at one point I realized I’d lost sight of him. By the time I knew it, he was right behind me. He didn’t say anything. He just started moving to my rhythm, brushing against me as if it were accidental.”

“And what did you do?”

“At first I pretended to be surprised. But I kept dancing there, against him, without turning around. I could feel his breath on my neck. During one of those movements, he slipped his hand beneath my dress and ran his fingers over my thong. I was soaked. We both noticed it at the same time.”

“Oh my God.”

“Then he brought his finger to his mouth, discreetly, as if he were tasting something sweet. That’s when I lost my head.”

Camila let out an incredulous laugh on the other end of the phone.

“I went straight to the bathroom, walking right past him so he could get a good look at me. I went into the last stall, locked the door, and pulled down my thong. It was heavy with how wet I was. I had an idea, a drunken act of madness, but it seemed brilliant at the time: I took it off completely and put it in my purse.”

“You came out with nothing underneath?”

“Nothing. The dress was short, and I knew that if he touched me again, he’d find my pussy directly, without any barriers. I came out of the bathroom with my legs trembling—not from fear, but from horniness. And there he was. He was standing in line for the men’s room, leaning against the wall, looking at me as if he knew exactly what I had just done.”

“And what did you do then, you crazy woman?”

“I went over to him. I brushed against him as I passed and stopped beside him for a second. I spoke into his ear. I told him, ‘Enjoy it.’ And I placed the thong, rolled up, in the palm of his hand. Dark red, still warm from me. I didn’t even give him time to react. I kept walking toward the bar without looking back.”

“You’re insane! You gave your used thong to a guy you didn’t even know!”

“I know, I know. I was so horny, Cami. I went back to the group as if nothing had happened, but inside I was boiling. The few people who were left didn’t even notice how long I’d been gone; they thought I’d thrown up or something. Meanwhile, I kept glancing toward the bathroom hallway, waiting for him to appear. Ten minutes passed and he didn’t come back. I started thinking he’d gotten scared, that he’d left with my thong in his pocket like a trophy.”

“Nice image. But wait—tell me he came back.”

“He came back. Fifteen minutes later he appeared. He slipped in behind me on the dance floor again, smiling. He seemed different, more relaxed, almost happy. He started dancing pressed against my back, one hand on my hip. And at one point I felt his other hand touching my ass over my dress, but he was squeezing something between his fingers. A lump of fabric.”

“Did he give it back to you?”

“That’s what I thought at first. I reached one hand behind me and he passed it to me quickly, without looking at me, as if we were carrying out a forbidden exchange in the middle of the dance floor. A little folded square of fabric. I clenched it in my fist and went back to the bathroom, without caring how obvious I was being. I locked myself in the same stall. And that’s where I opened it.”

I paused, my mouth dry just from remembering it.

“And?” Camila insisted.

“It was my thong, yes. But when I unfolded it, it was wet again, and it wasn’t me. It was him. He’d masturbated onto my thong and returned it to me covered in his cum, still warm, still thick. As if he were saying, ‘Now you enjoy it.’”

“The son of a bitch!” Camila shouted, laughing and scandalized at once. “Seriously?”

“Seriously, Cami. I don’t know how to explain what happened to me in there. It was like getting kicked in the stomach. My hands were shaking. I sat on the toilet with the panties open in my palm, still smelling that guy mixed with my own scent. I lifted the fabric, smelled it up close, and a moan escaped me so suddenly it even frightened me.”

“Tell me. Tell me everything; don’t leave me hanging.”

“I spread my legs while sitting there, my dress pulled up to my waist. I was wet all the way to my thighs, my lips swollen from holding myself back for so long. At first I touched myself slowly, with the tips of two fingers, drawing circles over my clitoris. But as soon as I put my nose into the thong and tasted someone else’s cum mixed with mine, I forgot all about subtlety. I shoved two fingers inside at once and started fucking myself in the club bathroom, pressing the thong against my mouth so I wouldn’t scream.”

“Lucía, you fucking bitch. You’re getting me horny too.”

“I sucked the fabric, Cami. I sucked that stranger’s cum as if it were the best thing I’d ever tasted. Salty, thick, with that flavor only freshly spilled cock milk has. And while I sucked, I drove my fingers all the way in, three fingers, moving my wrist quickly, crushing my clit with my palm. Everything made noise. My fingers going in and out of me, my broken breathing, my moans muffled against the fabric. I didn’t care that there were people outside, that they were knocking on the door—nothing.”

“Did you come?”

“I came twice. The first time it hit me suddenly, with my fingers inside. My whole pussy contracted around them and wetness ran down my thighs until it soaked the seat. But it wasn’t enough. I stayed there panting and immediately grabbed the thong again. This time I pressed it against my cunt, moving it slowly from my ass to my clitoris, soaking it with my juices until his cum and mine were mixed together in the same fabric. I crushed it against my clit, moving it in circles, feeling the seam scrape exactly where it needed to.”

“You’re sick.”

“With my other hand I shoved three fingers inside again and left them there, deep inside me. I clenched my walls against my knuckles, moving my hips, fucking myself with my own fingers as if he were there behind me. I closed my eyes and imagined him: the black shirt, his hand sliding beneath my dress, the voice I hadn’t even heard. That made me come again, longer and deeper, biting my thong so I wouldn’t howl. I almost fell off the toilet.”

“You’re a beautiful sicko.”

“When I came back to myself, I was trembling. I had to stay there a while longer, breathing, before I could stand up. I put the thong back in my purse, carefully, as if it were a relic. When I came out of the bathroom, he was gone. Apparently I’d taken too long for him. He must have thought I’d gone home.”

“And he didn’t even give you his name? Nothing?”

“Nothing. Not his name, not his number, not even a message written on the thong. Just the cum stain and the memory. I said goodbye to Bruno and Diego, who were already barely standing, and took a taxi. I was drunk, horny, completely confused, and clutching my purse to my chest as if it were gold.”

“And when you got home, you fell asleep.”

“No way. I got home, threw myself onto the bed, yanked off my dress, and grabbed the vibrator from the nightstand. I pressed it against my clitoris, the thong still clenched in my mouth, smelling it, sucking it. I turned the speed all the way up and stayed like that, my legs spread wide, biting the fabric and thinking about him. I came three more times before falling asleep. I must have passed out at some point, because I don’t even remember turning off the light or taking the thong out of my mouth. I woke up with it lying beside me, still stained.”

Camila fell silent for a second on the other end.

“Lucía, you’re a textbook degenerate. But I envy you. So much. I’ve been with Nicolás for a year and nothing even half that exciting has happened to me.”

“It was different, Cami. It wasn’t just any night. That guy understood the game right away. No talking, no name, nothing. I gave him my thong and he returned it improved. I don’t know what more anyone could ask for.”

“Would you see him again?”

I looked at the ceiling, with the red thong lying beside the bed, and smiled despite myself.

“I hope so. And if I run into him again, this time I’ll let him come in my panties too. But while I’m wearing them.”