Camila Confessed About the Three of Them in Camboriú

Camila flopped onto the pouf in an oversized T-shirt and nothing underneath, as usual. Outside, a fine rain was falling; I had just uncorked the second bottle of white wine and the computer was playing an old concert on YouTube, more out of habit than desire. It was the first Friday in months we had managed to be alone in my apartment, without rush or obligations.

She let out a laugh out of nowhere and looked at me with that crooked smile I know all too well.

—Sofi, remember when I told you I was at a “little party” in Camboriú? I never really told you the details. Want me to tell you everything, everything?

I sat on the edge of the bed and turned the volume down on the computer.

—Obviously, you filthy slut. Tell me from the beginning and don’t skip anything.

She covered her face for a second, took a long sip, and launched in.

***

—It was in the summer of twenty-two; I had just turned eighteen. I went with my mom from Buenos Aires, two hellish days on the road. We got to Camboriú on December 28 and checked into a cheap hotel near the waterfront. We walked along Avenida Atlântica, ate Brazilian pastries from the street stalls, wandered the malls until we were exhausted. My mom tried on gorgeous bikinis and the salesmen told her, “que senhora linda, parece ter trinta, no máximo.” Me next to her, silent. Not a single compliment.

»The first few days we did the classic tour: Praia Central, Praia Brava, Praia dos Amores, the path to Laranjeiras. My mom, at forty-three, was a goddess. Big tits, white skin, just a few extra pounds. She walked the sand in a modest one-piece bikini and all the good ones talked to her. “De onde vem, linda?”, “Tá sozinha?” She laughed modestly and answered, “vim com minha filha.” Me next to her, in a black microbikini, my huge tits bouncing, weighing close to ninety-five kilos. Sure, most of it went to my tits and ass, but I still felt like a manatee beside her. You know who talked to me? The drunk fat guys at the snack kiosk, the tattooed guy who smelled like beer, the ones who say, “come on, baby, I’ll buy you a drink,” with that face that says, “I know you’re desperate.”

»One night, after a whole day at Praia Brava, my mom met a Brazilian guy in the hotel lobby. Forty-five, classy, spotless car. He invited her for a drink at a bar by the lagoon. “Nothing serious, Camila, just talking.” She put on a short dress, did her makeup, and left happy as a little girl. I stayed sprawled on the hotel bed staring at the fan, with that rage that burns your guts. She gets men who treat her like a queen, and me... I put the microbikini on under a pair of shorts, grabbed two beers from the minibar, and went out walking on the beach at night, with only the distant lights of the closed kiosks.

»That’s when a guy showed up. Argentine, from Rosario, about twenty years old, skinny, with long hair tied back. He came up persistent but polite, not with the fat-guy-at-the-kiosk face.

—All alone, gorgeous? Look at those curves, you’re killing me —he said.

»Alcohol and anger did the rest. We made out behind some rocks, I got on my knees in the cold sand and pulled down his shorts. I sucked his cock the way I know how, deep throat, no rush. He moaned softly, grabbed my hair, told me, “you’re a goddess.” I swallowed everything. He kissed me on the cheek and left saying, “thanks, baby.” I went back to the hotel with sand on my knees and the taste of semen in my mouth, feeling like the worst whore in the world.

»The next day my mom was glowing. “He was a gentleman, Camila, we talked all night, he made me laugh. Nothing more, but so lovely.” I smiled stiffly and thought she’s happy with a conversation and I sucked a dick on the beach for nothing. I felt dirty, inferior. But I still put on the microbikini and went down to the beach like nothing had happened.

»And that’s where I met the three of them. They were playing footvolley at Praia Central. Nicolás, twenty-three, Argentine, dark, tall, with defined abs and his whole package clearly visible above his shorts. Mateo, twenty-two, Argentine, skinny blond, spoiled rich-boy type, talking like he owned the place. And Rafael, twenty-four, Brazilian, black hair and pale skin, with that smooth, cocky smile that disarms you. We started with dumb small talk, caipirinhas, nightclub jokes, a walk around the lagoon and açaí at a little kiosk. I liked Nicolás a lot, Sofi. He spoke softly to me, made me laugh, looked at my tits but also my eyes. And it seemed like he liked me too.

»On the fourth day they invited me to the house they were renting in Praia dos Amores. “Come have a drink, Camila, we’ll take you back after.” My mom was dead tired and let me go without asking questions. I got there at eight with a little bottle of vodka as a gift.

»The house was tiny: one double bed in the living room, creaky as hell, and the two bedrooms had single beds that were kind of broken. We started drinking and talking nonsense until Rafael suggested we play “Never Have I Ever,” but the filthy version.

—Never have I fucked a fat girl —Mateo started. The three of them drank. I blushed but laughed.

—Never have I had a threesome —Nicolás said, looking at me. I drank alone. They lost their minds.

—Never have I gotten sucked off on the beach —Rafael followed. All four of us drank. I looked at him with a what a son of a bitch face, but I laughed.

—Never have I fucked without a condom —Mateo said. I drank again. Rafael let out a “essa é safada pra caralho” and the three of them cracked up.

»We moved on to truth or dare. Obviously, everyone picked dare.

—Camila takes off her shirt and stays in her bikini —Nicolás ordered. I did it. My huge tits bounced and the three of them stared, literally stiff.

—Nicolás kisses Camila for thirty seconds on the mouth —Rafael said. We kissed with tongue, for more than thirty seconds, and I felt Nicolás’s hand on the back of my neck.

—Camila touches all three of their bulges over their shorts —Mateo suggested.

—Guys, nooo, that’s embarrassing —I said, pretending to be reluctant.

—It’s a game, come on —he insisted.

»I agreed. I did it trembling and laughing, and by then the three of them were already rock hard.

—Camila sucks Nicolás’s cock for two minutes —Rafael threw out.

—Ay, no... Fine, okay —I said, dying of laughter and embarrassment.

»I knelt down, pulled down his shorts, and started. Nicolás moaned softly. The other two watched and touched themselves over their pants. That’s when the game exploded.

—Final dare: Camila has to fuck all three of us tonight —Rafael said with a smile that left no room for doubt.

»I stayed quiet for a second, looking at Nicolás. The alcohol had made me brave and, why lie, I had already decided yes before he finished the sentence. I’ve fucked so many guys in my life, what’s three more?

—Ay, guys, that’s too much... —I said anyway, making them beg for it—. Fine, but only with condoms, okay? Don’t be idiots.

»It all started awkwardly. First just with Nicolás. He threw me on the small bed, which sank in the middle and creaked horribly. He pulled my bikini off with his hands, licked my pussy slowly, and I laughed and moaned at the same time from pure nerves. He put on a condom and fucked me face-to-face. It was uncomfortable: the bed was moving, I didn’t know where to put my legs, he slipped once and almost fell. We both laughed our asses off.

—Now shove it in my ass —I asked, already emboldened.

»Rafael went to the kitchen and came back with a jar of coconut oil.

—Homemade lube, babe —he said with a smile.

»Nicolás changed condoms, coated himself well, and went in slowly. It hurt at first. I made weird faces and told him, “ay, slow down, idiot...” The bed creaked so hard it sounded like it was about to split in half. Mateo and Rafael watched from the couch and jerked off.

»Then the other two joined in. It was a coordinated disaster, Sofi, I swear. Rafael tried to get underneath for vaginal, but the bed was so tiny Nicolás almost fell when he tried to enter from behind. We managed some kind of balance: Rafael inside me, Nicolás in my ass, and I was sucking Mateo’s cock without a condom because, between laughs, he convinced me. Our heads kept bumping into each other, my tits were swaying everywhere, I coughed when Mateo rushed me, the bed sounded like it was about to break. We switched positions however we could. Me on top of Rafael, Nicolás trying anal again (but the condom kept slipping off and we had to stop to add more oil), and Mateo in my mouth. At one point I tried to take both side cocks into my mouth at the same time. They wouldn’t fit. I just licked them together while drooling all over everything. They laughed and told me, “she sucks it beautifully.”

»They fucked me for almost an hour and a half like that, changing all the time because nothing ever went perfectly. Always with condoms on my pussy and in my ass, though. I was sweating, my tits were bouncing, I moaned and laughed at the same time. In the end they put me on my knees on the floor, took off the condoms, and the three of them jerked off over me. Nicolás and Rafael came in my mouth and I swallowed it all. Mateo came on my tits. I was wrecked, with cum dripping everywhere, but I swear I felt like the most desired woman on the planet.

»Before cleaning myself up, I took the digital camera out of my purse.

—Come on, I want photos. I want to remember this forever.

»They took like twenty. Me with my face and tits covered, smiling with my tongue out. Me with two cocks in my mouth. Me surrounded by the three of them. Me showing my ass spread open. In the end I took a selfie by myself, with the cum still running down my body. I’ve got them saved on a USB drive, Sofi. I still have them.

»The next day I was sore all over, but I still went down to the beach with them. My mom never found out anything.

***

Camila took another sip of wine, looked at me with that smug whore’s face she gets when she’s pleased with herself, and went on.

—The next day, Sofi, I went back to the house alone. I told my mom I was going out with friends. Nicolás opened the door for me, alone. The other two had gone surfing. He looked at me differently, not with the filthy grin from the night before, but with something warmer. “Come on, today it’s just us,” he told me.

»It was really nice. Nothing awkward, nothing rushed. We kissed slowly at the door, he took me to the bed (which we’d covered with two sheets so it wouldn’t creak so much), took my clothes off calmly, licked my pussy until I came trembling. After that he fucked me with a condom and halfway through asked me to go without. I said yes, I was on the pill. We did missionary, me on top, spooning. We repeated it three times that afternoon. He’d whisper in my ear, “you’re beautiful, Camila,” and I kind of believed him, but I let myself believe it. In the end he came inside me. We stayed there hugging and staring at the ceiling, laughing about the disaster from the night before. He told me it had made him a little uneasy to share me, because he liked me, but seeing that I wanted it, he still enjoyed it, even if he was jealous. That he didn’t know if he’d be able to do it again.

»That’s how I spent the rest of the trip. Almost every day I went back to see him alone. Sometimes at the house, sometimes in a hidden corner of the beach, fucking fast but tenderly. Once he took me to the lookout at Morro do Boi at sunset and we did it there, with the sea below. I blew him until the end and let out a “I love you” by mistake. He smiled at me like he was in love. I felt like I was in a movie, even though I knew it was only vacation. Before I went back to Buenos Aires, he asked for my number.

—When you’re back in BA, we’ll see each other, Camila. I want to keep seeing you.

»I said yes, excited. I thought maybe this time I’ll finally get somewhere.

»But on the penultimate day I went out walking alone on Praia Central. I had spent the night with Nicolás and woken up happy, with that vacation-girlfriend feeling. On the sand a big Brazilian guy showed up, about twenty-five, dark, muscular, with a dragon tattooed on his arm. He came on strong. “Oi, gata, vem cá.” I was still hot, my body still open, and... I said yes. He took me to an apartment far from the beach, really nice.

»It was violent, Sofi. He grabbed my hair as soon as I walked in, bent me over the mattress, yanked down my bikini, and shoved his dick in right away. No condom, no foreplay, almost no questions. He fucked me brutally, slapped my ass, squeezed my tits hard. It hurt, but I liked it even more because of that. I moaned broken Portuguese, “mais forte, mais.” He fucked my ass without lube, came in my mouth and made me swallow it. I had three orgasms in a row, my face buried against the pillow. He kicked me out, paid my Uber back, and I returned to the hotel with sand stuck to me, semen in my throat, and a very strange feeling. Used, yes, but much more alive. More of a woman than ever.

»The last day I went back to Nicolás. We fucked again, gorgeous. Low lights, soft music, him looking into my eyes as he entered me. Afterward we stayed naked in bed talking. He told me about his job at a bank, about movies, about his trips, that he wanted to see Europe. I told him about college, my friends, my inner misery. We had a thousand things in common. We hated the cold, we wanted an asado to death, we dreamed of the same things. It seemed perfect.

»And then at one point, I don’t know why, without thinking, I told him about the Brazilian guy. “Yesterday I met one on the beach and something happened.” He went quiet. I saw his look harden, saw the smile turn cardboard. He didn’t say anything nasty. Just, “ah, ok... crazy.” But I saw the disgust in his eyes and the disappointment underneath. He thought this one’s too much. He gave me a dry kiss at the door and never wrote to me again. Not even when I got back to Buenos Aires. Nothing. And I swear I don’t get it, Sofi. The guy shared me with his two friends, watched me suck two cocks at once, and got offended because I was with one more without him. I still don’t get it.

***

Camila stayed looking at the wineglass for a while, with a bitter smile that didn’t suit her face.

—And that’s when I realized the contrast, Sofi. My mom didn’t have sex a single time on that whole trip. But that Brazilian guy from the hotel took her out to dinner on fresh oysters with an ocean view, to walk around the lagoon at sunset, to lunch in beautiful places, to stroll along quiet beaches. She’d come back to the hotel glowing. “He was a gentleman, Camila, he made me laugh.” They agreed to see each other in Buenos Aires when he came for work. She was happy without opening her legs once. I... fucked four guys and sucked off one more. I got filled with cum, felt desired for a while, and then felt empty. Always the same. I’m the whore who puts up with everything, and she’s the one who wins without trying. It’s unfair.

She laughed softly, with her eyes a little sad, and raised her glass to toast.

—Maybe one day I’ll find a Nicolás who won’t be disgusted. Or maybe not. But for now, this is what I got. Want to see the photos? Or better... will you help me forget it with one more glass?

I handed her the bottle without saying a word. I felt sorry for her and jealous of her in equal measure. She opened the phone gallery, where she had the old Camboriú photos transferred over, and showed them to me one by one, with the same ease as if she were showing me a family vacation album. Neither of us mentioned Nicolás again that night.