What Happened After My Cousin’s Bachelorette Party

It was raining furiously that night, and the distant sound of the storm kept me company as I stepped into the other Lucía’s room. I looked at the photograph on the dresser and recognized her at once. To make sense of it, I had to go back six years, to the night my cousin Carmen invited me to her bachelorette party.

There were two months left until her wedding, but she moved the party up to an ordinary Friday because her calendar was packed. I dressed in a dark silk blouse and a burgundy skirt that matched my jacket. I put on just a touch of lipstick and a little color on my cheeks. I almost never wear makeup, but that night I felt like it.

There were twelve or fourteen women in all: her coworkers and a handful of old friends. Among them was Renata, an unexpected surprise. I had met her in the summers in a seaside town when we were almost children, and I had lost touch with her long ago. She was still the woman you could already make out back then: vain, with a shoulder-length blonde bob, a calm gaze, that slightly crooked smile. She had two generous breasts that showed brazenly beneath her dress and wide hips that filled the fabric. She married young, had no children, and had kept putting on a little weight since adolescence.

I sat next to her at dinner. We talked nonstop, going over absences and piecing the years back together. Then came time for the gifts and, as expected, everything was soaked in dirty jokes. After that we split up into cars to go to a nightclub with stripper shows. It wasn’t my scene, but I didn’t want to argue with my cousin. I ended up in Lucía’s car.

It was the first time I had her close up, though I had watched her all through dinner. She had me beat by a few impossible inches in heels. She wore a black leather jacket, a tiny red dress, dark stockings, and stilettos. Her brown mane fell loose, and her lips were painted an aggressive red. She looked us up and down when we got into the car, as if sizing us up.

The club had a reserved table almost right up against the stage. First out was a guy in a mechanic’s uniform, all muscles and fake oil, dancing with that forced slowness you see in movies. Some of the group shouted filthy things at him. Then came another dressed as a cop, less muscular but bolder. The music got louder, the crowd got hotter, and at some point they brought two women up on stage. One of them was Renata. They handcuffed her as if it were a joke, and everyone laughed and took pictures. The guy rubbed himself in their faces until only a ridiculous thong was left covering him. Renata’s expression changed the moment the bulge came near her mouth, but she kept playing along.

I had drifted to a bar in the back where there was less noise. I was hot and thirsty. Lucía came over and sat in front of me on a tall stool. I told her the show didn’t interest me much. I didn’t admit to her that something about her had attracted me from the start and that I was beginning to feel cold, that sensation I get when someone turns me on unexpectedly.

The music forced us to lean in close to talk, and without asking permission, she rested her hand on my thigh every time she bent toward my ear. On one of those occasions she lingered a second too long and kissed my neck very slowly. She lifted her glass to mine with a smile that didn’t need words.

Now, with time gone by, I don’t remember the exact phrases. I do remember the facts.

—Let’s drink to us —she said.

—Of course, gladly.

—Are you waiting for someone, or are you free?

—What do you mean?

—I mean we could leave together, just the two of us. I’ve been watching you all night.

I fiddled nervously with the glass between my fingers. I had nothing planned, but the night already seemed decided when Carmen showed up looking for me.

The problem was Renata. She wasn’t drunk, but she was tipsy enough that letting her go home alone would have been reckless. The plan was for me to drive her car and take her to sleep at my place. Her husband had been called and was aware of it. Lucía, seeing my face, convinced me with two sentences: it was a favor for an old friend, it cost nothing.

What she said afterward, with her mouth pressed against my ear, was something else entirely.

—It would be nice if you let her spend the night with us.

I started the car. Lucía suggested one last drink at her place. Renata agreed without blinking; she didn’t care where she ended up sleeping. During the ride, sitting in the back seat, she kept talking about the show, about the cop’s body, about how she had laughed. I drove following Lucía’s directions. I didn’t know the area, but I noticed we were entering a quiet residential development on the outskirts.

The living room was spacious and smelled nice. The three of us sat down with glasses of wine and started with harmless topics. Lucía kept needling her about the stripper, about the handcuffs, about anything that loosened her tongue. Alcohol did the rest. Renata ended up admitting that she had been dissatisfied with her husband for some time. She wanted more kink, more daring, and he wasn’t willing. He had lost his job and spent many hours alone at home. She confessed that she had gone to an erotic toy party and that one of the hosts had suggested partner swapping and then, almost privately, a meeting with another woman. Renata had said no to both things, but the subject kept circling in her mind.

—Look, Renata —Lucía blurted, winking at me—, there are decisions a woman owes herself.

—What decisions? —she said, draining her glass.

—You’re young. You’re in your best years. And you’re bored in bed. Right?

She nodded, lowering her head.

—I know what I’m talking about, darling. Mind if I ask you a few questions?

She asked her age, how long she’d been married, things you answer quickly. Then she started to turn up the heat. Whether she gave her husband blow jobs. Whether he returned the favor. Whether she masturbated. Whether she watched porn. Whether she had tried it from behind. Renata answered between laughs and blushes. Meanwhile Lucía had put her hand on her knee and was moving it higher with each answer.

—Have you ever cheated on him? —she insisted.

—No. But tonight, with the guy in uniform… damn, I wouldn’t have minded.

—And with a woman?

—As an adult, no.

Renata looked at me for a moment.

—Something happened in those summers. Do you remember, Adriana?

I did remember. Clumsy touching in the dark of a beach shack, a half-kiss we never spoke of again the next day. Teenage things we never gave a name to.

—Would you like to try it now? —I whispered.

A long silence. Lucía stood up and knelt in front of her. She slipped her hands under her dress and caressed her thighs without taking her eyes off her. Renata let out a sigh, let her head fall back against the sofa, and that was a yes.

—You’re very tense —Lucía said—. A massage would do you good.

—Now?

—Now. Come on.

She led her by the hand to a room at the back. It was spacious, with a tatami-style bed in the center and an iron-bar headboard. A low dresser, a small chaise lounge, everything in whites and light woods. Lucía lit a couple of candles, dimmed the lamp to a soft glow, and put on barely audible music. She took a black fabric blindfold from the drawer.

—The only thing that matters now is that you enjoy yourself. Do you understand?

—Yes. I’m nervous.

She asked if she wanted to leave and forget about it. Renata said no with a firmness that surprised me. She blindfolded her and stood there motionless, waiting. I came closer, told her in her ear to relax, and gave her a soft kiss on the lips. Between the two of us we took off her dress, bra, and ankle boots. She was left in a burgundy lace boyshort and elastic stockings clipped to her thighs.

She was as I remembered her, more womanly but still soft and plump. Gentle, harmonious curves, generous breasts beginning to lose firmness, wide pink areolas, nipples pointed and already hard. Wide hips, heavy thighs, a round, compact ass. The boyshort marked the bulge of her pubis and through the sheer fabric you could make out a darker patch: she still wore her hair untrimmed. As a teenager she had always stood out for that, for the abundance of her pubic hair and her refusal to touch it, even when it spilled out of her swimsuit.

We helped her lie face down on the bed, and we undressed until we were also in garters, the two of us in the same kind, the ones that leave thighs and ass bare. Standing there naked, Lucía looked taller. She had a flat stomach, small breasts, almost no areola but prominent nipples, and her pubic hair trimmed into a perfect triangle. Between her thighs peeped long, pendulous outer lips, like two lobes. She kissed me slowly and ran her hand over my completely shaved pubis.

—Are you having fun? —she asked.

I nodded.

—I like you —I murmured.

—You’re incredible. But first it’s her.

***

She poured oil over Renata’s back and began with circular massages. Her fingers slid down to the elastic of the boyshorts and came back up. With a gesture she told me to take off her stockings. We spread oil over her legs and divided the work starting from her ankles. With each upward stroke, her thighs opened a little more. When our fingers brushed the fabric at the crotch, she was already answering with a held breath.

Lucía gave one ass cheek a sharp slap. Renata let out a surprised little cry. She repeated it on the next pass and gestured for me to do the same. Renata lifted her hips, offering her ass to both hands, accepting whatever came. Between the two of us we gave her more than a dozen spankings, which she answered with rhythmic sighs.

Lucía took a pair of cloth cuffs from the dresser. She made her raise her arms over her head, put them on her, and tied them to one of the headboard bars. We rolled her onto her back. The boyshort still covered her, but now the wet patch was visible. Her wrists were taut, her shoulders defined, her breathing getting faster and faster.

We repeated the process in front. Oil on her breasts, slow massages, gentle tugs at her nipples. We bent down to suck them and Renata responded with moans that grew louder and louder. We returned to her legs. Lucía told me to pull the boyshorts down. Renata moved her hips to help me. When I slid them down her thighs, everything was exposed: a swollen sex, fleshy, long outer lips, covered by a thick mass of brown hair. Lucía parted her legs, lifted the hair with two fingers, and revealed the opening, already wet.

It took just a couple of fingers for her to arch her back. Lucía slid them in slowly, listening to the sloshing, watching her breathing deepen. When Renata was ready, Lucía stopped dead and gave her cunt a hard slap. Renata screamed from the pain and frustration.

—Easy. Not yet. Later you’ll be begging.

She made me kneel between her legs. She spread them all the way. I understood the message. Her taste was sweet and salty at once, impossible to describe. I licked her vulva with a hunger I didn’t recognize in myself. She lifted her pelvis and I bent her legs to open her wider. From behind, her parted buttocks exposed her anus, the nerve endings tightening and loosening. I didn’t hold back. I brushed it with the tip of my tongue and she lost control. I went back to her sex and sucked her clit until it poked out between her lips.

—You’re a couple of sluts —she panted, moving her hips.

—You love it. You’re enjoying it —Lucía shot back.

—Please, don’t stop. Fuck!

Her legs were trembling. The beast she had kept asleep for years had awakened. While I sucked her clit, I found the other hole with one finger. It slid in on its own juices. Renata jumped but didn’t pull away. It sank all the way in.

—You fucking bitch, ahhh…! —she shrieked as she came in my mouth.

Lucía had lain down beside her and was stroking her breasts, tugging at her nipples with a look of filthy lust I hadn’t seen in her before. The dominant woman inside her was coming out.

—Did you like the way your friend ate your pussy?

—It was… weird. Incredible. I never…

—Now it’s her turn. —Her voice had changed. She took off the blindfold but not the wrist restraints.

—In what way?

—The way I tell you.

She ordered me to straddle Renata’s face. I needed to come. I pressed my wet sex against her mouth, parted my lips with my fingers, and gasped when she licked my clit with an aggressiveness I hadn’t expected from her. Then she slipped her tongue inside. A lash of electricity ran through me. I cried out without meaning to and spilled over her face. I didn’t want to waste a single drop. I lowered myself and licked her wet lips, slid my tongue into her in a long kiss.

***

As I moved away, Lucía put cloth ankle cuffs on her and, with my help, tied them to her thighs. She placed a pillow under her hips. Her ass lifted and her anus and shining lips were exposed in an obscene way. Her clit stuck out hard and red, like a little cock.

—You’re going to kill me —she said between gasps. She was turned on, but also scared.

—You’re not going to die. You’re enjoying it too much.

Lucía took a double dildo from the drawer. She inserted one end into my sex and adjusted a harness that held the other: a dark penis, simulated with veins and a thick glans. She coated it with lubricant.

—Accept the filthy little slut inside you. We’re going to fuck you.

—Then fuck me already, you bitches —she lifted her head to look at us, defiant.

I ran the tip over her swollen lips. I pushed hard. As wet as she was, the rubber cock went in and out without resistance. Lucía wrapped herself around my back, keeping time with the rhythm, grabbed my nipples, and twisted them until I screamed. Renata tensed underneath, crying and laughing at the same time, until she let out a roar in a long orgasm that seemed never to end. I kept thrusting until I emptied myself.

When we freed her from the restraints, she let her head fall onto the pillow and gave a groan of defeat. Her veins stood out on her forehead and her eyes were wet. She looked at us defiantly, with a rough voice, and insulted us with almost no strength left. Then she curled up on her side, arms around herself, and fell asleep.

***

Six years later, in front of that photograph, I still wonder what went through her that night. Whether it was Lucía who opened her up, or whether I had opened her long before, in those summers we never dared to talk about.