Six Men Were Waiting at That House on the Outskirts

I met Rodrigo years ago, when he was my father’s closest friend. The kind who shows up at family gatherings, raises a glass at birthdays, and ends up being called by his first name by everyone, as if he belonged to the house. I watched him age while I was truly growing up. And one summer, when I was already an adult and circumstances left us alone in the wrong place, what happened happened.

I’m not going to go into that first episode. I’ll just say that it happened, that we both decided it wouldn’t happen again, and that months went by without us seeing each other.

Until he sent me a message on a Tuesday morning saying that if I wanted, he’d take me out to eat that weekend.

***

I took three days to answer him. In the end I said yes, more out of curiosity than anything else, telling myself that he probably just wanted to talk, that we were adults now and could be in the same place without anything happening.

We met at my house and from there went in his car to a restaurant downtown. We ate well. We talked about unimportant things: his job, my job, the weather. I thought I’d been wrong in my suspicions and that it really was just a meal.

Then the coffee came and everything changed.

“I want to propose something to you,” he said, in that careful voice men use when they know what they’re about to say could go very badly.

He explained that he had a house in the outskirts, about seventy kilometers from the city. That he usually went there some weekends with a group of close friends. That he’d told them about me. He said all this slowly, without rushing, looking me in the eye, before getting to the point: the idea was for me to spend that weekend with him and those five friends, and that together —all of them, he stressed— they would fuck me in turns, or all at once, or however I wanted.

I didn’t need to ask what he meant by “fuck.” I understood perfectly. Six cocks. One weekend. Me in the middle.

I stood up. I thanked him for lunch with a coldness that must have hurt him and left without waiting for him to pay the bill. In the car on the way back to my place, I kept telling myself that man was crazy, that I wasn’t that kind of person, that I would never speak to him again in my life.

I lasted exactly nine days with that certainty.

***

The problem was that the proposal hadn’t shocked me as much as I’d told myself it had in that first moment. It had scared me, yes. It had made me uncomfortable, of course. But shocked, truly shocked? No. And that difference kept me up at night. I spent nine nights with my fingers inside my pussy, thinking about six old men stripping me at once, and when I came I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror the next day.

I called him on a Wednesday night. I told him I wanted more details before deciding anything.

He wasn’t surprised. He told me they were five lifelong friends, all from his generation, between sixty and seventy years old. He said they were discreet men, that nobody would ever talk about anything outside those walls. That if at any moment I wanted to stop, everything would stop without questions. He made me that promise with a calmness that, for some reason, felt more reassuring than anything else.

I asked him if they were all healthy. He said yes, and that anyway protection would be available. I made it clear that protection was not optional, it was mandatory. That if any of them got stupid and wanted to put it in me without a condom, he was out on the street. He answered understood, without hesitation.

I hung up and sat on the sofa for a long hour. I listed every reason it was a bad idea. I said them out loud, one by one, as if hearing them would help convince me not to go.

It didn’t work. I ended up with my hand inside my panties, imagining all six of them at once, and I came before I’d even finished argument number three.

I texted him before going to bed: “Next Friday.”

***

Rodrigo picked me up at six in the evening. I had a small bag, just enough for two nights, and my nerves tucked behind a face that was trying to look calm. Under my dress I wore a black lace set I hadn’t put on in years. I told myself that if at any point I wanted to leave, I would. That helped.

We barely talked in the car. It was a quiet silence, not an awkward one. As if we both knew there were things that no longer needed any more words.

The house was large and made of stone, surrounded by pine trees. There were lights in all the windows. Rodrigo parked in the driveway and looked at me before getting out.

“If at any point you want to leave, you tell me. No questions and no explanations.”

“I know,” I replied.

Inside, five men stood up when we came in. Rodrigo introduced them one by one: Sebastián, who must have been sixty-four and had big hands and a broad smile; Fermín, the quietest of the group, who greeted me with a nod; Ramiro, the tallest, with completely white hair and a discreet elegance I hadn’t expected; Ernesto, the oldest of them all, who must have been close to seventy and took my hand with a delicacy that disarmed me from the start; and Diego, who was Cuban and had an accent I recognized immediately.

All polite. All with years behind them, but without the tired look I’d imagined during that week of deliberation. They offered me something to drink and showed me to my room.

I left my bag on the bed, sat for a moment, and breathed slowly. You’re here already. There’s no point going over it anymore. All six of them are going to fuck you and you came knowing it.

***

The night began without haste. We drank, they put on soft music, we chatted. There was something strange about sitting with six men in a room knowing why we were all there, and at the same time something almost normal about the conversation. They talked about their lives, trips they’d taken, politics. They asked about me with an attention I hadn’t expected to find in that situation.

The nerves gradually dissolved with time and wine. They didn’t disappear completely, but they went from being sharp to something duller, almost manageable. Almost a kind of anticipation. I could feel my panties getting wet while we talked about Ramiro’s trip to Greece. Nobody knew how wet I was except me, and that idea made me even hotter.

It was Rodrigo who moved first. He rose from the armchair, came over to where I was sitting, and held out his hand without saying a word. I took it.

He led me to a large sofa at one end of the room, somewhat apart from the rest. The others stayed where they were, not moving closer yet. Rodrigo kissed me slowly, unhurriedly, with his hands on my face, and I let myself be carried away without thinking about anything else.

He took my shoes off first. He ran his thumbs over the soles of my feet, kissed them, and that simple gesture turned me on more than I’d expected. He worked his mouth up my leg, slowly biting my calf, the inside of my thigh, stopping there, a centimeter from my panties, breathing over me as if he wanted me to beg him. He pulled my dress off over my head. He unclasped my bra and slid it down my arms. The five men across from us hadn’t said a word in five minutes.

I was left in my panties, sitting at the edge of the sofa, with six pairs of eyes on me. Rodrigo knelt between my legs and pulled my panties down with his teeth. He opened my thighs with his hands and looked at my cunt up close before touching it, as if he were checking something.

“You’re soaked,” he said quietly, for me alone.

“I know,” I replied.

He ran his whole tongue over me from bottom to top, slowly, tasting me. Then he sucked each lip one by one, closing his mouth over them, tugging gently. When he reached my clit he circled it first, without quite touching it, while I moved my hips searching for him. He slid two fingers into me and curled the tips against that spot inside just as he closed his lips over my clit and began to suck it in a steady rhythm.

My legs fell open on their own. I grabbed the back of his neck and pressed his face hard against my cunt with no shame at all. The five older men watched from their seats, and I watched them while Rodrigo ate me out. Sebastián had his wineglass forgotten in his hand and the bulge in his pants was showing at one side. Ernesto had stood up and moved a little closer, his fingers flexing as if his skin itched. Diego had unbuttoned his shirt down to his navel. Fermín was licking his lips without realizing it. Ramiro had his hand inside his pants, not taking his cock out yet, but squeezing over the fabric.

Fear and arousal were the same thing at that moment. I don’t know how else to explain it. I came in Rodrigo’s mouth with my eyes open, looking at the five of them, my legs trembling over his shoulders. Rodrigo didn’t stop; he kept sucking my clit through the whole orgasm, drawing it out, until I pushed his head away because I couldn’t take any more.

Rodrigo sat up, his mouth and chin shining, and looked at me.

“How are you?” he asked softly.

“Good,” I replied. It was true.

I slid off the sofa and knelt on the rug. I unbuckled his belt and pulled down his pants and underwear in one motion. He was hard, thick, the skin taut, shining at the tip. I took him in my hand at the base and got him into my mouth as far as I could, feeling his whole body tense. I sucked him slowly at first, getting him wet, letting a thread of saliva run down to his balls. Then I started moving faster, my mouth tightly closed around the flesh, while with my free hand I stroked his balls from bottom to top.

The others began coming closer slowly, without rushing, waiting in silence for me to set the pace. I heard the unmistakable sound of five belts opening almost at once.

When I looked up with Rodrigo’s cock in my mouth, the five of them were standing around us. Each had taken off his pants. Five hard cocks of different sizes and thicknesses were hanging at my face level. None of them had touched me yet. They were just waiting.

I asked them to put on condoms before anything else. They did it without a comment, naturally, without anyone making a face. I heard wrappers crackling in different parts of the room. That meant more to me than I could ever have imagined at that moment.

I knelt in the center of the semicircle, my tits out and my knees apart on the rug. I started taking them in my mouth one by one, moving from one to another without any fixed order, following whatever my body wanted at each instant. I ran my tongue all over one cock while with my hands I squeezed two others on either side. I pressed my face against their balls, breathed over them, took them back in all the way. Sebastián had big hands and held the back of my neck with a tenderness that contrasted with his size; his cock was thick and filled my mouth until it made me tear up a little. Fermín was the quietest, but the one who breathed hardest when I touched him, the one who revealed the most of what he felt; a rough moan escaped him when I licked his whole length from his balls to the tip. Ramiro murmured single words to me in a low voice —“just like that, pretty girl, just like that”— that came through only halfway but sounded good.

Ernesto looked me in the eyes every time I looked at him. That was the most unexpected thing about the whole night. That direct gaze, without pretending, without looking away, while I had his cock in my mouth all the way to my throat. There was something about that that turned me on more than anything else; something that made me want to suck him better, deeper, so as not to break the thread of that gaze.

Diego was the last one. When I got to him I realized it was the first time I’d been with a Black man. I hadn’t thought about it beforehand; it just happened. He was longer than the others and a beautiful dark color that contrasted with my white hand around him. I took him as far as I could, feeling him hit the back of my throat, and he held my hair with both hands, without forcing, letting me set the rhythm. I liked him in a way I wouldn’t have known how to anticipate.

***

Rodrigo was the first. He lay back on the sofa and told me to get on top of him. I straddled him, grabbed his condom-covered cock with my hand, and rubbed it between the lips of my pussy before lowering myself. When I finally took him in, sitting down slowly until he was all the way inside, a long moan escaped me. The others watched from the semicircle they’d formed, their cocks in hand, and that turned me on in a way that’s hard to describe: knowing all eyes were on me, on my ass rising and falling over Rodrigo, added something I hadn’t expected to find.

I started riding him slowly, rocking forward and back more than up and down, letting my clit rub against his pubic bone. Rodrigo grabbed my tits with both hands, pulling at my nipples, and I braced my palms on his chest to take a stronger rhythm. I fucked him deeper, searching for the angle, biting my lip so I wouldn’t scream. Rodrigo stayed like that with me for several minutes, with a slow cadence that drove me pleasantly insane, until I felt like I was going to come again and deliberately slowed down even more to stretch it out. When he stopped, he sat up and gave up the spot without ceremony, his cock still shining inside the condom.

Sebastián was next. He laid me back on the sofa, spread my legs under the knees, and waited a moment before going in, looking for my gaze. I nodded. He pushed into me little by little, and although I was drenched, it hurt a bit at first because of how thick he was. When he was all the way inside, he stayed still for a few seconds, looking at me, and then started moving. What followed was different from Rodrigo, slower at first and more intense later, pounding into me all the way, gripping my hips with those huge hands to pull me against him with every thrust. In the end he lifted my legs, rested them on his shoulders, and fucked me folded nearly in half, his face red and his breathing heavy. He lasted several minutes until he pulled out, still hard inside the latex.

Ramiro was third. Tall, big hands. He whispered something in my ear that I didn’t fully understand —something about how good I looked like that— and took me from behind, kneeling on the sofa with my hands braced on the backrest. He grabbed my waist with both hands and drove into me all at once, all the way, to the hilt. A cry escaped me. That position was new to me. I hadn’t expected to like it as much as I did. He fucked me deep, with long thrusts, while he ran one hand over my back and up to my nape to grip my hair firmly but without hurting me. With the other he searched for my clit underneath. I pressed my face against the back of the sofa and moaned without shame, biting my arm when I felt like I was going to come. I came with him inside me, squeezing his cock with my cunt, and I felt his whole body tense behind me before he pulled himself together and kept going.

Fermín came after that. He was the most heavily built of the group, and that made me assume he’d be the roughest; I was completely wrong. He was the most careful of them all, the one who asked me twice if I was okay, the one who waited before every movement. He laid me on my side on the sofa, got behind me, lifted one of my legs by the knee crease, and slid into me slowly from that angle. He started with short thrusts, almost tender, while kissing my shoulder and squeezing one tit in his hand. Paradoxically, he was also the one who lasted the longest. I asked him harder and he gave it to me, holding me from behind, changing my position without pulling out, then putting me on all fours at the edge of the sofa so he could slam his hips against my ass. He was the one it was hardest to hide how much I was enjoying. I begged him in a low voice not to stop, and he didn’t stop.

Diego lifted me off the sofa. He held me up with his hands under my ass and made me wrap my legs around his waist. I ended up facing him, my arms around his neck and my feet barely touching the floor, and he fucked me like that, in the air. With each thrust he lifted and lowered me on him, moving me as if I weighed nothing. His cock was the longest and in that position he reached a different place, deeper, that made me clench my teeth. Fully held up by him, I felt a sensation of weightlessness I hadn’t felt before. I buried my face in his neck and bit his shoulder when I came again. It was brief but intense.

And Ernesto was the last one. The oldest of them all. He looked at me for a long moment before touching me, as if he wanted to make sure of something. Then he laid me down with a tenderness that disarmed me for the second time that night. He came over me slowly, resting his elbows beside my head, and sought my mouth to kiss me while he slid inside. He fucked me looking into my eyes, without breaking the gaze for a single second, at a slow, deep rhythm that felt like he was saying something to me with his body. I grabbed his back with my hands and wrapped my legs around his waist to pull him closer. When he finally came he did it in silence, with his muscles trembling over me, never taking his eyes off mine.

When it was all over, I was lying on my back on the sofa with the ceiling above me, my cunt throbbing, a warm thread of sweat running down between my tits. The six men were scattered around the room, some still naked, others with only their shirts on. All you could hear was the background music and everyone’s breathing.

***

Saturday was different. Looser, more natural. We had breakfast together like normal weekend people, talking about anything and everything, and for a good while that’s what we were. I came downstairs in a long T-shirt and no panties and pretended not to notice my nipples showing through the fabric.

In the afternoon we were together again, but without the order of the previous night. Things flowed differently, more spontaneously, less structured. I took more initiative. I started by sucking Sebastián’s cock on the sofa while Ramiro licked my cunt from behind, kneeling on the floor. I ended up riding Fermín while Rodrigo shoved his cock into my mouth from above and Diego stroked my ass, waiting his turn. Double penetration, with Diego behind me for the first time, very slowly, very wet, with the rest watching in silence so as not to break the moment. That surprised me about myself, and in a way I liked.

At the end of that afternoon I made a decision I hadn’t planned. With Ernesto and Diego, the two who had looked me in the eyes the most during all that time, I asked them not to use protection. I wanted to feel them for real, without the latex barrier, and I wanted them to come inside me. Ernesto fucked me slowly, bare, and I noticed the difference immediately: skin against skin, the different heat. He came inside after a long time, holding me against him, leaving me full. Diego came after that and fucked me from behind, gripping my hips, and when he came he did it inside too, silently, his forehead pressed against my back. I don’t know if it was a fully rational decision. At that moment it was what I wanted, and that was that.

***

Rodrigo drove me back on Sunday afternoon. I looked out the window for almost the whole trip without saying much, my cunt still sensitive and the feeling that I still had both of them inside me. He didn’t talk much either.

Before I got out of the car, he asked me how I was.

“Good,” I told him. It was true, just as it had been on Friday. Only now “good” meant something different that I didn’t know how to explain.

Would I do it again? I don’t know. I haven’t ruled it out completely, which already tells me something about myself. But I haven’t gone looking to repeat it either. It was an experience that existed in its own time, in that house, with those men, and that somehow stayed there when we left.

What I do know is that during that weekend I was something I hadn’t been before: completely present, completely myself, fucking exactly however I wanted without apologizing for it or asking anyone’s permission.

That, strange as it may sound, is priceless.