The Night I Lost My Virginity with Them

When the referee blew the final whistle, the university stadium exploded. I ran out onto the field with the other cheerleaders, waving my pom-poms over my head, knowing there would be a celebration that night. What I didn’t know was that celebration was going to change everything I thought I knew about myself.

I was twenty years old. I was in my second year of business administration and had been on the Polytechnic’s cheer squad for two semesters. My teammates talked about sex as if it were something they’d already figured out: angles, positions, preferences. I listened and nodded, without admitting that I still hadn’t crossed that threshold. It wasn’t for lack of opportunities. It was because of something harder to explain: I wanted it to be worth it.

I’d spent weeks listening to Daniela talk about how two men had had her in a hotel in Roma and how she hadn’t been able to walk properly the next day. She told it laughing, with a beer in her hand, describing in detail how one of them had shoved his cock into her cunt while the other fucked her mouth, how they’d put her on all fours and taken turns until they came all over her. We all listened with that mix of fascination and envy we’re not always able to name. I smiled. Inside, I clenched my thighs and thought about it more than I cared to admit.

That night, in the stadium, with the team celebrating around me, something shifted in me. A decision I didn’t make with words but with my body.

***

The party was at Rodrigo’s place, the goalkeeper’s, who lived ten minutes from the stadium in a spacious apartment far too big for a twenty-one-year-old student. His parents traveled often. That night, the house was ours.

I called my mother to tell her I was sleeping at Fernanda’s. My mother trusts Fernanda. Fernanda left at eleven with her boyfriend, but my mother didn’t know that.

By the time the clock struck midnight, half the people had already disappeared. It was just me and five players left: Rodrigo, Tomás, Ariel, Santiago, and the one everyone called Beto, though his real name was Roberto. The five of them were still sweaty from the celebration, with the team jerseys rolled up in their hands or draped over chair backs. I was still in my cheerleader uniform: short blue skirt, sleeveless top, hair pulled back in a ponytail.

The beer had done its job. I felt light, unburdened by the usual weight of what I should or shouldn’t do. Rodrigo suggested strip poker with the casualness of someone suggesting a movie. No one objected. Neither did I.

I was on a lucky streak that night. I stripped them one by one, with a calm that surprised even me. First Tomás’s shirt. Then Ariel’s shoes. Then everyone’s pants. By the time I lost for the first time, they were already down to their boxers, and the bulges showing through the fabric left no room for doubt. When another hand came down, Rodrigo dropped his briefs with a grin and his cock sprang hard against his stomach. I had never seen one so close, so thick, so alive. Behind him, Ariel took his off too, and Beto, and they all looked at me waiting for the next card.

I lost my top.

I felt their eyes before I saw their faces. Five pairs of eyes roaming over my tits, the likes of which none of them had seen before outside the mirror in my room. My nipples went hard in the open air, and it wasn’t from the cold. I crossed my arms on instinct, and Rodrigo said from the other couch, his cock stiff between his legs:

—Don’t hide. There’s nothing to hide.

It wasn’t an order. It was, strangely, an invitation.

I lowered my arms.

***

What came after wasn’t rushed. It was like a tide: slow at first, inevitable after that.

Tomás sat beside me on the sofa, naked, his cock resting against his thigh, long and throbbing. He asked if I was okay. I said yes. He asked if I wanted him to stop if anything bothered me. I said yes, though at that moment there was nothing bothering me. He brushed the side of my body with the back of his hand, barely, as if checking that I was real. Then he asked if he could touch me. I nodded.

His hand on my waist was first. It wasn’t rough. It traveled slowly along my side, climbed to my chest, and took one whole tit, weighing it, pinching my nipple between his thumb and forefinger until a short moan slipped out of me that I hadn’t known was in there. I didn’t say anything. He kept going. His other hand spread my legs over my skirt, slid up the inner thigh, and slipped under the fabric to find me wet over my panties.

—You’re soaked —he said, voice rough—. Look at you.

When Rodrigo knelt in front of me and ran his hands up my thighs, I knew the card game was over. I also knew I didn’t want anything else to end.

I told them I was a virgin at that moment. Without drama, almost like a technical detail, as if I were saying I’d never tried sake or never driven on the highway.

Tomás moved back an inch.

—Do you want to stop? —he asked.

—No —I said. And it was true—. I want you to do me. All of you.

They went silent for a second, processing what I’d just said. Then Rodrigo let out a low laugh, almost voiceless, and pulled my hand away from my skirt to drag it down to my ankles.

***

Rodrigo was the first to pull off my panties. He did it slowly, looking me in the eyes to read whether anything changed on my face. Nothing changed, except I bit my lip and looked away toward the ceiling. He spread my legs wide open, without asking anymore, and I felt the cool air against my wet cunt before I felt the mouth.

Then I felt the heat of his tongue and my thoughts turned fuzzy. He licked me all over, from bottom to top, with a broad, flat tongue, and then focused on my clit with the tip, making slow circles that tore the first long moan of the night out of me. He slipped a finger inside. Then two. He curved them in, looking for something I didn’t know existed and finding it immediately. My back arched on its own.

It was different from what I’d imagined. More focused. More electric. Every movement of his tongue seemed connected to a wire running straight to the center of my chest. I closed my eyes. I spread my legs a little wider without realizing it. Someone took my hand and wrapped it around a hot, hard cock; I gripped it tightly, not even knowing whose it was, and started moving it up and down the way my friends had told me it was done. Skin slid over hard flesh, and on the tip I felt a slick drop that stained my fingers.

Tomás had taken one of my tits into his mouth and was sucking on my nipple while pinching the other. Beto came up on the other side and brought his cock to my face, not rushing me, just resting it against my cheek so I would understand what he wanted. I turned my head and opened my mouth. The first time I had it inside, I gagged a little; he pulled out right away and went back in slower, only halfway, letting me set the rhythm with my tongue.

The orgasm came before I understood what I was feeling. Rodrigo was sucking my clit and pumping two fingers inside me at the same time, and suddenly it was as if the floor disappeared beneath my feet and I fell into something soft and electric all at once. My cunt tightened around his fingers in waves and I cried out with Beto’s cock still halfway in my mouth. I clung to Tomás’s arm without meaning to, and he let me. When I opened my eyes, all five of them were looking at me with hard cocks in their hands.

It wasn’t a predatory look. It was something else. Something like awe.

—Good? —Ariel asked from the other side of the room, stroking his cock slowly.

—More than good —I replied, and my voice sounded different. Lower. More mine—. I want more.

***

Tomás was first. He lay down on the floor on a blanket someone had brought from the bedroom, his cock pointing at the ceiling, and helped me lower myself onto him slowly, my hands braced on his chest. I felt the pressure before he went in. The thick head worked its way into my wet flesh and stopped me. I breathed. Lowered myself another inch. Felt him opening me from the inside, my body stretching to let him pass. I kept going.

The moment he went all the way in, there was a brief, sharp pain, like a burn, that didn’t make me want to stop but to keep going more carefully. I stayed still for a second, impaled on him to the hilt, feeling the heat, the weight, the absolute fullness of having him inside. He stayed still too. His hands on my hips, firm but not pushing.

—You okay? —he whispered.

—Yes —I said. And I started moving.

I rose slowly, feeling his cock drag along my inner walls, then I lowered myself again. Again. Again, a little faster. Again, with no pain now, only that hot friction that stole my breath every time I sank all the way down. The feeling of having him inside while I controlled the rhythm was something hard to describe. It was heat, pressure, fullness. And Tomás’s face beneath me, eyes narrowed and jaw tight, making the visible effort not to come too soon so he could let me go at the pace I needed, was the most intimate thing I’d ever seen in my life.

Beto knelt near my face. He didn’t say anything. I looked at him. I took him in my hand first, feeling the thickness, then I put him in my mouth. He let out his breath in a rush. I copied what I’d seen Daniela do in that video we’d watched on her phone months earlier, hollowing my cheeks and running my tongue along the underside as I went up and down, and apparently it worked, because Beto rested one hand in my hair gently and started moving too, pushing my head down until the tip hit the back of my throat. My eyes watered and I was short of breath, but I didn’t pull away. When I came up to breathe, a thread of saliva hung from my chin to the tip.

—What a mouth you’ve got, damn —Beto muttered, and shoved it back in.

Santiago came up on my other side and put his cock in my other hand. I started jerking him off while sucking Beto and riding Tomás. Three at once. It wasn’t something I’d ever thought I’d be capable of. And yet I was doing it, and doing it well, because all three of them were breathing hard and none of them asked me to stop.

Ariel came up behind me. He asked in a very low voice if he could try from behind. I’d never thought about that, not even as a possibility, but that night everything felt like a door opening for the first time. I told him yes, but to be careful. There was more lubricant than I expected, cold at first, and his fingers opened my ass patiently, first one, then two, circling until I felt it loosen. When the head finally started to go in, I clenched harder around Tomás’s cock by instinct and cried out around Beto’s.

—Slow, slow —Ariel said, still—. Breathe.

I breathed. He pushed again, a little more. The sensation of being opened from behind while Tomás filled me in front was something my brain couldn’t process in that first second. Then, once Ariel was all the way inside and the two of them started moving in sync, one rising while the other sank, I understood. I felt my mind stop processing the world in separate categories.

There were three. The three inside me. The weight of the three, the heat of the three, the sound of the three of them breathing mixed with mine. Beto’s cock was fucking my mouth, Tomás’s cock was fucking my cunt, Ariel’s cock was fucking my ass, and Santiago’s and Rodrigo’s hands were everywhere: on my tits, in my hair, on my open thighs. I had never felt so used and so powerful at the same time. I was the center. Everything revolved around me.

***

What surprised me most of all was the look on the men’s faces at the exact moment of orgasm.

That fraction of a second when composure vanishes completely and something raw and true is left underneath. The eyes rolling back. The breath cut off halfway. The hands clutching the first thing they can find. That expression excited me more than anything else, more than the friction or the heat or the weight of bodies. I wanted to keep seeing it. I wanted to bring it out.

When Tomás reached the edge, I felt it before he said it. His cock swelled inside me, throbbed once, twice, and then the heat multiplied in thick waves against my walls. And then I knew what semen was, its temperature, its texture. He came so deep inside me that I felt every pulse separately, and when he finally pulled out, a thick white stream dribbled from my cunt all the way to my navel. I wasn’t disgusted. I was surprised by how little disgust I felt.

Ariel took a little longer. He kept driving my ass with short, deep thrusts, biting my shoulder from behind, until he braced himself with his fingers dug into my hips and unloaded inside me with a long groan. I felt the hot semen in a place I’d never imagined feeling it. When he pulled out, he helped me sit up and wiped my thighs with the flat of his hand, almost tenderly. That gesture, so small in the middle of everything happening, struck me as unexpectedly kind.

They laid me back on the sofa on my back, with my legs still open and my cunt dripping Tomás’s come. Santiago came next. He shoved in with one hard thrust, with no resistance left, and started fucking me fast from the beginning, gripping my ankles and spreading them until my knees almost touched my ears. Every slap made an obscene wet sound and my tits bounced against my chest. I looked at his face and told him to come on me. He came on me. He painted my belly and tits with a thick burst that ran in streams down to my ribs.

Rodrigo waited for him to finish. Then he made me turn over and get on all fours over the cushions. He fucked me in the cunt from behind, hands on my hips, and took me long, without hurry, with deep thrusts that tore a moan out of me every time. He slid his thumb into where Ariel had been, opened me again there, and I felt my vision blur once more. I came on him without warning, clenching him with everything I had, and he held out a little longer before pulling his cock out and unloading hot semen over my ass and lower back.

Each one had his own rhythm, his own way of moving, his own smell, his own taste when he came back to my mouth. I learned to tell them apart in the dark, almost without trying.

Beto finished in my throat. I was on my back at the edge of the sofa, my head hanging over, and he shoved it all the way in from above, fucking my mouth in a straight line. I felt him get there before he announced it with a low, contained sound, and he unloaded shot after shot inside. I swallowed what I could. The rest slid from the corner of my mouth. The mix of flavors wasn’t what I’d imagined. It was more intense. More real. Saltier. When he pulled out, he drew his cock back slowly, leaving a shining trail on my lips, and smiled.

I lost count somewhere along the way. Not of people, because there were five and that didn’t change. But of times. Of how many times my body reached the edge and crossed it. Of how many different combinations there can be of five men and one woman saying yes to everything. I finished once with Santiago inside my cunt and Rodrigo inside my ass at the same time, impaled between them, my face pressed into the sofa arm and Ariel holding my hands so I wouldn’t move. I finished another time with my mouth full and both hands busy and some cock I don’t remember rubbing my tits from above. I finished another time alone over Beto’s face, riding his mouth until the orgasm folded me in half.

***

At some point, we fell asleep. Me on the sofa, their bodies close by, the apartment silent. I had dried semen in my hair, on my tits, on the inner part of my thighs, and I didn’t care.

When one of them woke in the middle of the night, things kept going with the same calm they’d started with. No urgency. No drama. A hand searching between my legs and finding me ready again. A hard cock settling against my hip, waiting for permission. I spread my legs half asleep and let it in. As if it were the most natural thing in the world, which maybe it was.

At seven in the morning I got into Rodrigo’s shower. Hot water poured over me for a good long while. I soaped myself slowly, paying attention to every part of my body, claiming it back as mine. I touched my swollen cunt, my sore but intact ass, the red finger marks on my hips and thighs. I didn’t feel bad. I didn’t feel dirty or ruined or any of the things I thought I might feel.

I felt, above all, different.

It wasn’t that I had lost something. It was that I had found something I didn’t know existed inside me: an appetite that didn’t yet have a clear name but felt completely my own.

The steam filled the bathroom. Outside, someone turned on the television and the morning news drifted in under the door. It smelled like coffee. First time, I thought. And I smiled to myself there under the water.

***

It took me weeks to tell anyone. I told Fernanda, because Fernanda doesn’t judge. She listened to the end with her coffee in hand and her eyes getting wider and wider.

—So how did you feel? —she asked when I finished.

—Good —I said—. Better than good.

—All five?

—All five. In every hole. More than once.

Fernanda set her coffee down on the table.

—That’s not a first time —she said—. That’s a doctoral dissertation.

I laughed. It was the first time I’d really laughed since that night, and realizing I could laugh about it told me everything I needed to know about how I felt about it.

Since then, sex has been part of my life in a way I no longer hide. Not because that night broke something in me, but because it showed me something. That pleasure has many forms. That the body knows what it wants when you stop asking fear for permission. That a first time can be exactly that: the first of many.

And that sometimes what you thought you’d regret is what you end up remembering most clearly, in the most detail, with the most gratitude, years later.