Four Men, a Pickup Truck, and Me Without Underwear

That morning I woke up with the same feeling as always: my body burning, the sheet damp in the wrong place, and Ernesto already up, getting dressed with his back to me without even looking at me. It wasn't that we hadn't done anything. We had done something, yes. Five minutes, two positions, a distracted kiss on the forehead before he went to the bathroom. The problem was that five minutes weren't enough to put out what I had burning in me that morning. He hadn't even come inside me. He pulled out first, like he always does, and came across my belly with two weak gasps that sounded more like an apology than pleasure. I was left with my cunt throbbing, clenching around nothing, searching for a cock that was no longer there.

I stared at the ceiling for a few seconds with my arms crossed over my chest, listening to the sound of water in the shower. I breathed slowly. I slid one hand beneath the sheet and touched myself. I was soaked, slick, swollen. I ran two fingers over my clitoris very slowly, barely brushing it, and felt the shudder rise up my spine. I could come by myself in two minutes. But that wasn't what I wanted. I wanted to be filled. I wanted to feel weight on top of me, hands squeezing, a mouth biting, a cock thrusting deep. I pulled my fingers out, brought them to my mouth, and sucked my own flavor from them. Then I got up.

I put on the tightest pants I owned, a white pair that hugged my curves nicely, a sleeveless blouse made of thin fabric, and no underwear at all. My nipples showed clearly through the blouse, two hard points that any eye would find within seconds. It was breakfast at my mother-in-law's house, not a formal date, and if no one was going to pay attention to me at home, at least I'd go out feeling good about myself.

While Ernesto hurried the children along so they could get washed, I opened my phone in the kitchen and started checking my messages. There was one from Marcos, a lifelong friend who lived a few blocks from my in-laws' house. I'd known him since before I got married. He was one of those friends where there had always been a spark, an insinuation floating in the air that neither of us ever acted on. Or hadn't acted on until that day.

“We're partying. You coming?” he wrote at eight in the morning.

I replied that I couldn't, that we were going to have breakfast with the family. But something in that message turned me on again. Marcos was never alone, and I knew that perfectly well. I put my phone away and went to help the children get ready.

I couldn't stop myself from writing to him again five minutes later: “How many of you are there?”

He didn't reply right away. I stood there with the phone in my hand, wondering why I'd asked. I knew perfectly well why. I knew from the pulse between my legs, from the moisture already soaking my white pants, from the way I was squeezing my thighs together while standing in front of the stove.

***

At a quarter past ten, we all went down to the parking lot. Ernesto was carrying Sofía in his arms, still half-asleep with her cheek resting on his shoulder. My seven-year-old son had his headphones on and a tablet in his hand, oblivious to the world. It was Sunday. Everything moved slowly.

“Aren't you changing?” Ernesto asked, looking me up and down with that expression he wore when he didn't like something but wasn't going to say exactly what.

“I'll throw something on in a minute. Go get the kids in the car; I'll be right there.”

When they turned away, I checked my phone. Marcos had replied.

“There are four of us. We're getting to your area.”

My heart leapt. Four. Four cocks. Four pairs of hands. My cunt clenched hard all at once, so hard I had to brace myself against the hallway wall for a second.

I typed quickly: “Wait for me on the back street. I'll be out in ten minutes.” I sent it before I had time to change my mind.

“Mom!” my son called from the elevator.

“Coming,” I answered, putting away my phone and going upstairs.

***

I told Ernesto I was going to take a quick shower and would meet them at his mother's house in twenty minutes. I put on a perfectly bored expression, as if it were just another Sunday chore. He hesitated for a second, held my gaze, and then nodded. He left me the apartment keys and went off with the children without saying anything else.

As soon as I heard the elevator doors close, I went down to the parking lot through the side entrance.

The pickup was at the corner of the back street, a dark truck with the windows halfway down. I saw the headlights blink twice and walked toward it. Marcos got out of the passenger seat before I reached it. He greeted me with a kiss on the cheek and said quietly, with that smile of his that never promised anything good:

“Let's see it. Just a little turn.”

I turned around slowly so he could see my pants. I showed him my ass squeezed into the white fabric, with no panty line, nothing underneath. There was a brief silence from inside the truck. Then an unfamiliar voice said:

“Get in, sweetheart. Come let us split you in two.”

They opened the rear door for me. Inside were three men besides Marcos: one behind the wheel and two in the back seat. I didn't know any of them. They were older than Marcos, with that particular energy of men who had been awake all night and still wanted more. I sat between the two in the back, and Marcos returned to the passenger seat.

“This is how I like Sundays,” the driver said without turning his head as he pulled away slowly.

***

It hadn't even been two minutes before I felt a hand on my thigh. Then another on the other side. Thick fingers squeezing my flesh, climbing hungrily, without asking permission, without pretending to be polite.

I said nothing. They hadn't expected me to.

The man on my left slid his fingers beneath the fabric of my pants and confirmed what he already knew: that I wasn't wearing anything underneath. He let out a short, satisfied laugh when he found my soaked cunt and thrust his middle finger inside me to the knuckle in one push.

“She's got nothing on. And she's dripping, the little slut,” he told the other, as if I weren't there. “Feel it, man, how tight she is.”

The other man pushed two fingers inside me as well. I felt them spread me open, move inside me, curl as they searched for the exact spot. A long moan escaped me, and I bit my lip. The man on my right leaned his head toward my neck. I felt his breath before his lips, then his hot tongue on my skin, traveling up toward my ear. He slowly bit my earlobe and whispered:

“You're going to suck all our cocks, aren't you, slut?”

Everything inside me clenched. I nodded soundlessly.

Meanwhile, the other man slowly lowered the zipper of my pants, unhurried, with the attitude of someone who wasn't pressed for time because he knew perfectly well how this would end. He pulled his wet fingers out of my cunt and ran them over my lips, smearing me with my own juices. I sucked them without being asked.

I arched slightly forward to help him pull my pants down.

Marcos, from the front seat, reached his arm over the backrest and stroked my hair. I looked at him for a second, and he smiled.

“Relax,” he said. “We're going to treat you well. Very well.”

Relax. As if there were anything that made me nervous.

The driver continued making slow turns through the neighborhood. The windows were halfway down, and the morning was cool. Outside, a woman was walking a small dog. A child was riding a bicycle across the street. No one looked inside the truck. No one knew that inside there was a married woman with two children, her white pants halfway down, two strange fingers buried in her cunt, her mouth open and begging for more.

***

They pulled my pants down to my knees in one clean, direct movement. The man on my left unzipped his fly and pulled out his cock. It was thick and dark, with a swollen head and a clear drop glistening at the tip. He gripped the back of my neck firmly and drew me toward him without ceremony. I wrapped my hand around it first to gauge it—it was heavy, throbbing—then ran it over my lips as if greeting it. Then I opened my mouth and let it slide in all the way, until I felt it strike the back of my throat. I gagged for a second, and he let out a guttural growl.

“That's it, sweetheart, that's it. Swallow it all.”

I started sucking him hungrily, helping myself with my hand, moving up and down, letting saliva run down my chin. I licked the tip, ran my tongue beneath it, took the entire cock into my mouth again, and held my breath. Every time I pulled it out to breathe, a thick strand of saliva hung between my lips and the head.

What I like most about moments like that is the honesty of the body. There is no protocol, no unnecessary conversation, no need to pretend this isn't exactly what it is. I'm a woman with another man's cock filling my mouth while another man spreads my ass with his hands.

As I leaned forward, the other man arranged me from behind, lifted me slightly with his hands on my hips, and began touching me between the legs with his fingers. At first slowly, exploring, then with more pressure in exactly the right place. He rubbed my clitoris with his thumb in slow circles while pushing two fingers into my cunt and curling them upward. I felt a tremor begin in my hips and rise to my shoulders. I cried out with the cock still in my mouth, and the vibration made him tighten his fingers at the nape of my neck.

“Ready? Because I'm going to shove it in up to my balls.”

I didn't answer with words. I simply spread my knees farther apart.

I positioned myself over him, facing away, and felt the hot head searching for my entrance. I lowered myself slowly, letting the tip work its way inside, and then, when I couldn't stand the need anymore, I dropped all the way down. I was so wet there was no resistance. The entire cock slid into me in one thrust, all the way to the bottom, and I let out a hoarse moan that made the driver laugh.

“Listen to the little bitch,” Marcos said from the front without turning around. “She loves it.”

I began moving slowly, bracing my hands on his knees to keep my balance. I rose and sank over its full length, feeling it open me and fill me with every movement. The other man was still in my mouth, now pushing my head with both hands, fucking my throat at his own pace. My eyes watered, saliva spilled from my mouth, and my cunt clenched harder and harder all by itself. The truck continued moving, making a long curve toward the main avenue.

The four of us remained silent except for our breathing, the wet slapping sounds of my cunt impaling itself on the cock, and the dull noise of the engine.

***

I came for the first time with him inside me, without warning, in a spasm that made me squeeze hard around what I had in my mouth. My cunt became a fist, throbbing around the cock, milking it uncontrollably. The man beneath me dug his fingers into my hips and thrust upward twice, very hard, before going still and slowly emptying himself inside me. I felt hot spurts fill me, one after another, and shuddered with each one. It ran down the insides of my thighs when I lifted myself up.

The man whose cock was in my mouth pulled it out and came across my face and neck in two thick spurts. A heavy strand landed on my lips, and I licked it off without thinking.

I stayed still for a moment, breathing, semen dripping down my chin and from my cunt.

“My turn,” a voice said from the front.

The driver braked the truck on a dead-end side street and turned off the engine. I shifted on the seat and got onto my knees on the upholstery, my ass raised behind me. The third man, who until then had been silent in the passenger seat, moved into the back. He was the tallest of them all, with large hands and slow, deliberate movements. He pulled out a long, curved cock, thicker than the others. He took me by the waist from behind without saying a word.

“Slowly,” I said, looking over my shoulder. “Not there—the cunt first.”

“Both, sweetheart. You're going to feel me in both.”

He spat on his thumb and pressed it gently against the entrance to my ass to prepare me. He took his time, patiently rotating it and pushing little by little, until I felt my body give completely and his entire finger slid inside. Then he put in two. I pressed my face against the backrest and bit my hand to keep from screaming too loudly. With his other hand, he guided his cock toward my cunt and rubbed the head against my soaked lips, spreading the previous man's semen together with my own juices.

It's never the same with someone you don't know. Uncertainty changes everything: you don't know what to expect, you can't anticipate anything, there is no routine or familiarity. It forces you to be completely present in every sensation, unable to distract yourself.

When he was fully inside my cunt, I clung to the seatback with both hands and breathed through my mouth, silently counting until I found the rhythm. He began fucking me with long, deep thrusts, pressing my hips against his balls with every drive. The truck rocked gently. I moaned louder and louder, not caring who might hear me from the street.

“Now,” he said, pulling his cock out, dripping with juices and semen, pressing it against my asshole, and slowly pushing.

I screamed. My ass opened around the thick cock, burning for a second, and then the burn turned into something else. A dense, enclosed pleasure that made me clench my teeth. He began moving slowly, then faster, holding my hair with one hand and my hip with the other. The other man who had been waiting took advantage of the moment and pushed three fingers into my empty cunt, moving them in the same rhythm. They were filling me from every side. I felt as if I were going to split apart.

Marcos settled in front of me.

“May I?” he asked, his cock already out, hard and throbbing inches from my face.

It was the only time all morning that anyone asked permission. I looked at him without saying anything and opened my mouth.

He pushed it in slowly, keeping eye contact with me the whole time, while the other man destroyed my ass from behind. I'd never looked at him like that, so close. There was something in his gaze, in the barely sketched smile on his face as he fucked my mouth, that made me come for the second time. A long tremor shook my entire body, with Marcos's cock buried in my throat and the other man's in my ass.

We finished within a few short minutes. The man behind me came inside my ass with a grunt, thrusting all the way in, and I felt hot semen flood me from within. Marcos pulled out of my mouth just in time and finished all over my breasts, opening my blouse with his other hand. The inside of the truck smelled of hot skin and something else, that dense scent that clings to your memory whether you want it to or not. Sweat, semen, used cunt.

I cleaned myself as best I could with some tissues someone took from the glove compartment. I ran one between my legs, another over my face, another across my cleavage. I felt a thick strand running down the inside of my thigh and caught it before it reached my white pants. I pulled my pants back on, smoothed my blouse—which still had wet stains I'd have to disguise—and fixed my hair while looking at myself in the rearview mirror, which the driver had turned toward me without my asking.

“Where should I take you?” he asked.

I gave him my mother-in-law's address.

Marcos turned from the passenger seat with that calm smile he'd always had, the one that never changed no matter the situation.

“Breakfast isn't going to get cold,” he said.

I laughed. It was a genuine laugh, the kind that can't be faked.

***

I arrived fourteen minutes late. My mother-in-law opened the door before I could ring the bell and told me the food was already on the table. The children were seated. Ernesto looked up when I came in.

“You said twenty minutes.”

“Traffic slowed me down.”

“What traffic? It's Sunday.”

“Well, today's traffic. It's always the worst,” I said, and excused myself to go to the bathroom.

I washed my hands with hot water, rinsed my mouth three times, gargled with mouthwash I found in the cabinet, fixed my hair in front of my mother-in-law's bathroom mirror, which smelled of lavender and had a candle burning even though it was ten in the morning. I pulled my pants down a little to check. My thighs were still sticky, and my cunt was swollen, with two men's semen inside me. I cleaned myself with toilet paper, flushed, and pulled my pants back up. I looked at myself for a moment. My cheeks were still flushed, and my tits showed through the blouse, with a couple of barely visible stains that would dry within minutes. I splashed cold water on my face and waited for the color to fade.

I went out into the hallway and headed for the kitchen.

“What will you have to drink?” my mother-in-law asked.

“Coffee,” I replied. “Strong, please.”

I sat across from Ernesto. Sofía was already eating on her own, spreading jam with more enthusiasm than precision. My older son was telling his grandfather something about a game on the tablet. Sunlight came through the window and warmed the wooden table. My husband poured me a glass of orange juice without saying anything, as he always did on Sundays.

I took the glass and drank slowly, feeling another warm drop trickle down the inside of my thigh.

It was going to be a good day.