What We Confessed That Night Over Fernet

It was the kind of night that doesn’t exist in winter: sticky heat, the city silent, and the whole house to ourselves. Vale’s parents had gone to the country for the weekend, and she took advantage of it to organize one of those get-togethers that always end in confessions.

We arrived one by one. I was first, with a bag of potato chips and two bottles of fernet. Romi showed up with pizza. Nadia appeared dressed as if she were going to a party: short dress, plunging neckline, that kind of attitude that already tells you the night is going to lead somewhere. Caro was the last one, with cheap champagne and candy, because she was Caro and always did things like that.

We settled into the living room: cushions on the floor, the TV on with the sound off, a nineties playlist playing softly. We fixed our drinks, opened the pizzas, and started with the usual: work gossip, ex drama, the typical rundown of who was seeing whom.

After an hour and two glasses each, Nadia leaned back on the couch, looked at the ceiling, and said without any preamble:

—Girls, can we talk about something less boring? Because I already know how Rodrigo’s story with his new girlfriend ends, and honestly, I care less and less.

—What do you want to talk about? —Romi asked, biting into a slice of pizza.

—Fantasies —Nadia said, turning her head to look at all of us—. The ones you wouldn’t tell anyone. Those.

The silence lasted exactly three seconds. Then we all spoke at once: one of us said yes, another said no, and Caro covered her face with a cushion. In the end we reached an agreement: whoever wanted to talk would. Whoever didn’t would listen.

No one wanted to go first. We all looked around the circle until our gazes landed on Nadia, who already had the smile of someone waiting for exactly that.

—I’ll start —she said, sitting up a little and crossing her legs on the couch.

***

Nadia’s fantasy was an empty gymnasium. At night, after everyone had left. Twenty nameless, faceless men, just bodies and presence. Her in the center, on all fours on a mat, naked.

—One after another —she explained in a low voice, almost as if she were describing something she was seeing at that very moment—. Without stopping. They fuck me without asking anything, without foreplay. I’m on all fours, my ass sticking up, and I feel the first cock pushing against my pussy. It’s rock-hard, thick; he shoves it all the way in at once and tears a cry out of me. He doesn’t ask if I’m ready; he doesn’t care. He grabs my hips and fucks me hard until he comes inside me. As soon as he pulls his dick out, there’s another one behind me.

Nadia spoke while staring at the ceiling, her voice growing raspier by the second. Romi’s mouth hung open. Caro had stopped drinking.

—The second one puts it in my ass. No asking, no lube, just the first one’s cum dripping between my butt cheeks. It burns, it hurts, but I press my face into the mat and endure it because I want more. He drives it all the way in, wrecks my ass with his thrusts, and when he finishes he comes on my back. Then another one follows, and another, and another. Some of them make me suck them first, shoving it down my throat until I gag, filling my mouth with cum and making me swallow. Others just choose a hole and destroy me. I don’t know how many there are. I lost count at seven.

She moved her fingers along the rim of her glass, almost without realizing it.

—At one point I’m so wet, so slippery with cum, that I can’t even tell one from the next anymore. Just cocks going in and out, cum falling in my hair, on my face, on my tits, inside my pussy, inside my ass. They make me lie on my back and two of them fuck me at once, one in my mouth, the other in my pussy. Then they turn me over, put me in a squat, and make me lower myself onto one cock while another enters my ass at the same time. Double penetration, with a third one fucking my mouth. And I come again and again, until I lose track of where I end and the next guy begins. I just want to feel like it never stops.

Romi let out an awkward laugh and covered her mouth. Caro said nothing; her eyes were wide as she stared at the floor. When Nadia finished, no one spoke for a long moment.

Then it was Vale’s turn. She had been the one who suggested the game. Vale bit her lip, looked at her glass, and sighed.

—Mine is silly —she said.

—Tell us —I said.

—A glory hole. A hole in a wall, like in some old train-station bathroom. Without knowing who’s on the other side. Just… whatever appears, and that’s it.

We all looked at one another.

—And that’s all? —Romi asked.

—No —Vale admitted, and began telling the rest in a voice that grew quieter and quieter, her eyes fixed on her glass.

—I’m kneeling on the cold mosaic floor, in a bathroom that smells of damp and old piss. In front of me there’s a wall with a hole at face height. I wait. I hear footsteps outside, a door opening and closing. And suddenly the first one appears. A thick cock, already half-hard, sticking through the hole. I don’t think about anything. I put it straight into my mouth, all the way down, until the tip hits my throat and I have to pull back so I won’t gag. Then I take it in again. I suck it eagerly, with saliva, my hands braced against the wall so I won’t lose my balance.

Vale spoke without looking up. Her voice trembled slightly.

—The guy pushes from the other side, driving it in until my nose presses against the tiles. I let him do it. He fucks my mouth as if it were a pussy, without being careful, and I drool, my nose runs, my makeup smears. When he comes, he fills my mouth with hot, thick milk. I swallow everything; I don’t let a single drop fall. I suck the tip until the very last drop, and the cock withdraws through the hole. A second later, another one appears.

—You were saying… —Caro began, but stopped.

—The second one is thinner, longer. Another stranger, someone I never saw and never will. I take it in anyway. I swallow it all the way to the base, and this one talks to me from the other side, tells me things I won’t repeat. That I’m a whore, that I should swallow everything, that I’m the perfect mouth for it. And it turns me on—really turns me on—that a stranger treats me that way without even knowing what my face looks like. I rub my clit through my panties while I suck his cock, and when I feel he’s about to come, I pull my mouth away and let him come on my face, my lips, my hair. After him there are more. Four, five, I don’t know. They all finish inside my mouth or on top of me. I end up with my face sticky, my hair tousled, my pussy soaked, and still hungry for more. That’s exactly what turns me on: not controlling anything, not knowing anything, being nothing but a mouth on the other side of a wall.

When she finished, Caro looked at her with a mixture of horror and fascination.

—You, who said you were the calmest one in the group —she said.

—I’m calm in real life —Vale replied with a smile—. In my head I’m someone else.

***

Caro had a harder time. She was the most reserved, the one who always listened without giving much of herself away. But the fernet and the group pressure did their work.

—Mine is with a teacher —she finally said, quietly.

We all leaned forward at the same time.

—He’s not handsome at all —she clarified immediately—. He’s in his forties, his clothes are always wrinkled, and he wears thick-framed glasses. But when he speaks… there’s a confidence in him that throws me off. Once I saw him explain a theory from memory, without notes, without hesitating for even a second, and I thought things I shouldn’t have been thinking at that moment.

In Caro’s fantasy, the classroom was empty. He asked her to stay behind to go over an assignment. His voice changed. He ordered her to lock the door. She said no, that it wasn’t appropriate, that she had to leave… but her legs wouldn’t take her anywhere.

—He sits me on the desk —Caro continued, her voice growing raspier—. He stands in front of me. He tells me, “Spread your legs.” I don’t move. He repeats it, more slowly, more deeply. “Spread your legs, sweetheart. I’m not going to ask you again.” And I spread them. He hikes my skirt up to my waist, pulls my panties down, takes them off slowly, and puts them in his jacket pocket. Then he looks down at my pussy in silence, as if evaluating something. I’m red, my thighs are trembling, and he hasn’t even touched me yet.

Caro gripped the glass between both hands.

—He kneels. He spreads my legs farther, until it hurts a little, and starts eating my pussy. Slowly, with his whole tongue, patiently, as if he had all the time in the world. I try to stay quiet, biting my hand, but he moves it away and tells me, “I want to hear you.” And he sucks my clit, slips two fingers inside me, curls them inward until he finds the exact spot, and then I can’t stay quiet anymore. I scream, moan, convulse against the desk, and he doesn’t stop until I come in his mouth.

—Oh my God, Caro —Romi murmured.

—Then he stands up —she continued, without looking at anyone—. He unzips his pants and pulls out his cock. It’s big, bigger than I expected, and rock-hard. He grabs the back of my neck and brings it to my face. “Suck it.” I tell him I’ve never done it, that I don’t know how, please… and he answers, “It doesn’t matter. Learn.” And he puts it in my mouth. Slowly at first, letting me get used to it, but then he grabs my head with both hands and fucks my mouth at his own pace. He drives it down my throat, makes me gag, tears run down my cheeks, and my mascara smears. “That’s it, sweetheart, swallow it all,” he tells me, and I cry a little, from embarrassment and arousal, but I don’t stop.

She paused for a second, took a breath, and went on.

—When he gets tired of my mouth, he turns me around against the desk. He presses my face against the papers, hikes my skirt up again, and shoves it in at once. Without asking. He drives it all the way in from behind and fucks me hard, the desk banging against the wall. He pulls my hair and tells me, “You like it. Don’t say you don’t. Look how you’re dripping.” And I nod, because it’s true. I fuck myself on him until he comes inside me, without pulling out, and I’m left sprawled across the desk with his milk running down my thighs. Then he hands me my panties, my hands still trembling, and tells me, “Put them on, and don’t tell anyone.” And I put them on with his semen still inside me and walk down the hallway like that.

She said all of it without looking up from her glass. When she finished, Nadia was the only one who applauded slowly.

—The good kind of submission —she said—. No violence, but total authority.

—Exactly —Caro acknowledged—. The idea of someone ordering me around turns me on. Of there being no choice.

—Do you masturbate thinking about him? —Romi asked, as direct as always.

—More than I’d like to admit —Caro answered, and let out a laugh that eased the tension for all of us.

***

Romi was next, beginning with a disclaimer that “this is stupid,” which none of us believed.

—Don’t judge me —she said, raising her hands—. It’s only a fantasy. I know it doesn’t exist in practice.

—Go on —I said.

—A guy with an enormous dick. Like twenty-five, twenty-eight centimeters. Thick. The kind you look at and wonder how it can stand up by itself.

Nadia burst out laughing:

—That’s not a man, that’s a construction project!

—I told you not to judge me!

Romi described the scene: a dim hotel room, a guy lowering his pants, and there it was. Enormous, thick, with prominent veins and a shiny head. She just stared at it, unable to close her mouth.

—I kneel down —she said—. I try to put it in me and I can’t. The tip already fills my entire mouth. I run my tongue along its whole length, grab it with both hands, and there’s still cock left over. I suck his balls, taking them into my mouth one at a time while stroking his dick with both hands. He grabs my hair and tries to push the tip farther in, and I swallow it as best I can, choking, drooling all over it, spitting over the whole cock until I leave it shining.

She laughed nervously.

—Then he throws me onto the bed on my back. He gets between my legs, spreads me wide, and presses it against the entrance to my pussy. It looks enormous beside me. He starts pushing, and I feel him opening me little by little, centimeter by centimeter. It burns, it hurts, but it hurts in a way that makes me get wetter. I ask him to stop, I ask him to keep going—I don’t know what I’m asking him for. He keeps sliding it in slowly, looking me in the eyes, until I feel it hit something inside and know he can’t fit any farther. And there’s still part of it outside.

—Enough —Vale said, covering her eyes and laughing.

—He starts moving. Long withdrawals, slow thrusts. Every time he pushes, I can see the bulge in my belly. A bulge rising and falling with the rhythm. I touch myself there and feel the cock through my skin. That drives me crazy. I ask him to go harder. He fucks me deep, the mattress creaking, his thighs slapping my ass, and I scream like I’ve never screamed in my life. I come twice like that, one right after the other.

She took a long drink before continuing.

—Then he turns me over, puts me on all fours, and goes for my ass. With almost no lube, just how wet I am. He presses the tip against me and pushes. I scream, bite the pillow, say no, but I open my ass wider for him without realizing it. He eases it in little by little, it burns, it hurts so good. He pulls it out and puts it back in, a little deeper each time, until he drives it all the way in. And then he fucks my ass slowly at first, then harder and harder, both hands squeezing my hips. He fills my ass with cum, so much that I feel it dripping when he pulls out. I rub my clit with his cum running between my legs and come again, by myself, just from the sensation of having that inside me.

—Have you ever had anything close to that? —Vale asked.

—Once, with a guy who was about twenty-two centimeters. It took me three days to walk normally.

—And would you do it again? —Nadia asked.

—Right now —Romi said without hesitation, and we all burst out laughing at the same time.

***

By the time it was my turn, the living room had been in that state of electric heat for a while, the kind created by talking about things that normally go unsaid. The lights were off, a candle was burning, and the fernet was nearly gone.

—Come on, Sofía —Nadia said, pointing at me—. You’re the hostess. You’re not getting away.

I covered my face with my hands for a second. Then I lowered them.

—Mine is a little different —I said—. It’s not a specific situation. It’s more… an idea.

—What idea? —Caro asked.

—The scandal.

The four of them looked at me, not quite understanding.

—When I was in high school, I recorded a video. Homemade. Me with my boyfriend at the time. Pretty… graphic. No one ever saw it except the two of us. But I always fantasized about the opposite: it getting leaked. Reaching the school WhatsApp group. Everyone seeing it.

Silence.

—Not because I like being watched —I clarified—. But because of the contrast. Because I was always the one who seemed serious, the one who got good grades, the one whose friends’ parents wanted as an example. And in that video I wasn’t any of those things. In the video I’m on all fours on the bed, the camera off to the side, and he’s fucking me hard from behind, one hand on the back of my neck, pushing me against the pillow. I suck his dick all the way down first, my tits bare, looking at the camera. He makes me come twice with his tongue, and then I ask him for it myself: “Fuck me in the ass, come on, in the ass.” And he puts it in, and I scream, and things slip out of me that I would never say aloud if I knew someone else was listening. He finishes on my face, and I open my mouth and stick out my tongue. All of it recorded. Everything, from the first shot to the last.

No one spoke.

—The idea of someone who knows me as the good girl suddenly seeing that other side of me turns me on. Seeing me beg to have my ass wrecked, seeing me swallow his cum while looking at the camera. Walking down the hallway and thinking, “Sofía? That Sofía? The one who seemed so serious?” and knowing that no, behind all that there was a whore.

—The mask coming off —Caro said softly.

—Exactly.

Romi looked at me as if to say, “I never would have imagined you saying that.”

—That’s much kinkier than it seems —she said.

—I know —I replied.

Nadia smiled without saying anything, and that was worse than any comment.

***

That night we all slept at Vale’s apartment. We put the inflatable mattress on the floor of the big bedroom and sprawled out haphazardly: me in the middle, Romi and Vale on one side, Nadia and Caro on the other. We talked for a while longer in the darkness, our voices growing quieter and quieter, until the silences between one sentence and the next became longer.

Nothing else happened. No one touched anyone, no one hinted at anything, no one crossed any line. Just the warmth of bodies close together, the sound of the ceiling fan, and our breathing gradually settling.

But it took me a long time to fall asleep.

I lay still, staring at the ceiling, my heart still beating a little fast. I thought about what I had said, about what the others had said. About everything we normally keep inside without telling anyone, and about why that night had been different.

When I finally fell asleep, I dreamed.

In the dream I was in my room from when I was older, already living alone. The bed was wide, the desk covered with papers, the window blind halfway down. And he was there, the guy from the video, although in the dream he was taller and looked at me differently.

I knelt in front of him and lowered his pants. I pulled out his cock with both hands—it was already hard—and brought it to my mouth. First I ran my tongue along its whole length, over his balls, over the tip. Then I took it all the way in, slowly, until I felt it in my throat. He held my hair with one hand, not hard, just enough to set the pace. I drooled over his cock, letting strands of saliva fall, using them on him to masturbate him while I sucked him. Then he lifted me, laid me on my back on the bed, spread my legs, and entered me in one thrust, all the way in, looking me in the eyes. He started fucking me hard from the beginning, his hands squeezing my tits, and I begged for more, telling him, “Fuck me, harder, come on.” For a moment everything was exactly as I wanted it to be.

But at some point I looked at the wardrobe mirror, the long mirror facing the bed, and the woman underneath him, legs spread, his cock moving in and out of her, wasn’t me.

It was my mother.

She had her body, her hair, that way of moving I knew from having watched her all my life. Her tits bouncing with every thrust, her face transformed by pleasure, moaning in a voice I had heard a thousand times from the other side of the wall when I was little. And he stayed the same, not knowing or not caring, fucking her with the same intensity with which he had been fucking me a second earlier.

I woke up with a start.

Vale’s room, the inflatable mattress, the fan. The other four asleep around me. The blinds let in a thin line of gray light: dawn was still far off.

I stayed still without moving. My heart was racing, my panties soaked and sticky, a mix of sensations that had no clear name: arousal, shame, something resembling guilt but not exactly that.

I’m not telling anyone about this.

During my adolescence I had a lot of hang-ups about my mother. She was beautiful in a way I couldn’t understand back then, and I was only a pretty girl who still didn’t know what to do with that. The dream wasn’t new. It had appeared before, in other versions, always leaving me with that strange mixture of arousal and guilt I never felt about anything else.

***

The next day we did what people always do after a night like that: we pretended it was an ordinary Saturday.

We had coffee and croissants for breakfast, watched TV for a while, and talked about unimportant things. No one mentioned the fantasies. No one mentioned anything. Just innocent comments like “we really overdid it with the fernet last night” or “it was nice sleeping all together; we should do it again.” And so, amid light gossip and mate, the morning slowly dissolved into normality.

But when Caro left and we hugged at the door, she held me a little longer than usual. And when Nadia said goodbye with a kiss on my cheek, she whispered very softly, “Yours was the best.”

I didn’t know what to say. I just smiled and said bye.

There are things you tell once and then keep forever. I understood that that night. And I also understood that something between us had changed, even if no one ever named it. The five of us knew too much. And that, somehow, brought us closer than anything else.