Sofía confessed to me what happened that night in Punta del Este

Sofía came back from Punta del Este with a smile I had never seen on her before. It was different from her usual smile: calmer, a little sardonic, like someone holding on to a secret far too good to let go of all at once.

A month went by. Then two. We saw each other several times, had coffee, went to the movies, and she said nothing. Until one Friday in July, shut up in my apartment with a bottle of Chardonnay and the cold outside, she finally let it out.

—Caro, I never told you everything that happened in Punta del Este. What really happened.

I turned off the television.

—Then tell me everything. Don’t skip anything.

She laughed, covered her face with the cushion for a second, and began.

***

It was in January, right after New Year’s. Sofía and her mother, Graciela, drove from Rosario: two days on the road, stops at gas stations, cold croissants, and eighties music her mother put on without negotiation. They arrived in José Ignacio on January second, where they rented a small cabin three blocks from the sea.

Graciela was forty-six and had the kind of discreet beauty that made more of an impact than obvious beauty: fair skin, dark hair cut to shoulder length, always well-groomed without looking as though she had tried. Sofía was nineteen, with a curvy body she herself described with a mixture of pride and annoyance, and a tendency to compare herself with her mother that ruined her best moments.

—On the beach, guys looked at my mom and ignored me —she told me—. Not the ordinary guys. The good ones. She’d walk around in any old bikini and they’d smile at her, talk to her, ask where she was from. I’d walk beside her with my tits practically hanging out and my ass outlined by my swimsuit, and nothing. It made my blood boil. But I’d show even more cleavage and keep walking anyway.

One afternoon, at Playa Brava, she met the three of them.

They were playing paddleball near the shore: Diego, twenty-three, Argentine, from Córdoba, dark-haired, with broad shoulders and a laugh that took up space. Andrés, twenty-two, blond, from Buenos Aires, quieter but with pale eyes that followed everything. And Máximo, Uruguayan, twenty-four, curly-haired, brown-skinned, who spoke with that accent that mixed soft s’s with something that sounded like music.

They started talking about nothing. Sofía asked them about a bus stop; they said they didn’t know, but they’d walk her there anyway. They ended up drinking beer at a kiosk facing the sea, laughing at unimportant things, and when night fell, nobody wanted to leave.

—I liked Diego from the beginning —Sofía told me—. He spoke to me softly, as if what he was saying was just for me. And I knew he liked me. I could tell from the way he looked at my tits when he thought I wasn’t noticing, and from the bulge showing through his wet shorts.

On the third day, Diego invited her to the house they were renting in La Barra. “Just to have a drink,” he said. Graciela was tired and let her go without asking many questions. Sofía arrived at nine that night with a bottle of rosé, no panties beneath her dress, and her mind already made up.

***

The house was simple: a living room with an old sofa, an open kitchen, two bedrooms at the back. They put on quiet music, opened the wine, and started talking. After a while, Máximo suggested playing Never Have I Ever.

—It started out innocent —Sofía told me—. But not for long.

“I’ve never fucked on the beach,” Andrés said. All three drank. So did Sofía.

“I’ve never fucked two girls at once,” Diego said, looking directly at her. Sofía drank. The three of them looked at one another.

“I’ve never sucked off a stranger on vacation,” Máximo said. Everyone drank, including Sofía, who laughed to herself without explaining why.

The game turned into Truth or Dare. When it was her turn, Sofía chose dare. Diego said she had to kiss him for a whole minute. She did. It was a long kiss, his hands on her face, then her neck, then sliding down to grab one of her tits over her dress, and when they finished, the other two applauded sarcastically. Sofía felt her nipple hard against the fabric and her pussy already wet.

—After that kiss —she told me—, I already knew how the night was going to end. And I didn’t care. I was soaked down there. You could tell from the way I kept shifting in my chair.

Andrés suggested the final round: Sofía’s dare was to stay with all three of them that night. She was silent for a second. She looked at Diego. He said nothing, only waited.

—All right —Sofía said—. But with condoms. Don’t play dumb.

***

They started right there in the living room. Diego lifted her from the couch, pressed her against the wall, and kissed her again, this time without stopping, thrusting his tongue deep into her mouth while he pushed her dress up to her waist. When he discovered she wasn’t wearing panties, he laughed against her mouth.

—Goddamn —he whispered in her ear—. You came ready.

—I came ready —she answered, and grabbed his cock through his shorts.

He was hard. Big and hard. Sofía pulled it out right there, standing against the wall, and dropped to her knees on the rug without thinking. Diego looked down at her, eyes half-closed, while she ran her tongue all over his cock before taking it into her mouth. She started slowly, one hand around the base, sucking the head and playing with it with her tongue. Then she began swallowing it little by little until the tip touched the back of her throat and her eyes started watering.

—I sucked him for quite a while —she told me—. I liked the look on his face. The other two had already come closer, watching from behind the sofa. Máximo had taken off his shorts. Andrés was still dressed, but he had one hand inside his pants. And I felt like the queen of the world, on the floor, with Diego’s cock in my mouth and two other horny guys waiting their turn.

Diego gently lifted her by the hair and took her to the master bedroom. The bed was barely big enough for two, and fitting four people on it was going to be a complicated geometry exercise.

He threw her onto her back, yanked off her dress, and stared at her whole body, naked and open, her tits standing up and her shaved pussy glistening with wetness.

—Then he went down on me —Sofía said, covering her face with her hands for a second—. He spread my legs and got his mouth on me. He started slowly, circling around without touching my clit right away. He tickled me around the edges, slipped his tongue inside, pulled it out, moved up over my clit, and went down again. I clutched the sheet like a maniac. When he finally latched onto my clit and put two fingers inside me, I was already begging him not to stop. He made me come with his mouth in less than five minutes. I came on his face. He wiped himself with the back of his hand and laughed.

Then he put on a condom and thrust into her all at once, all the way in, and she let out a scream that could be heard throughout the house. Diego started fucking her hard from the very beginning, his hands on her hips, pulling her onto his cock with every thrust. The bed creaked. The other two watched from the bedroom sofa, slowly jerking off, waiting their turn with an appearance of complete patience.

It was Sofía who called them over.

—Come here —she said, and didn’t repeat herself.

Máximo climbed onto the bed and positioned himself behind her. Diego pulled out, put her on all fours, and pushed back into her from the front while Máximo asked for the cooking oil on the nightstand—Diego had left it there earlier, as though he had planned it—and began lubricating her ass with his fingers. He pushed one in first, then two, moving them in circles, opening her up little by little while Diego kept fucking her from the front.

—Goddamn, you assholes, give me some warning —Sofía said, laughing and biting the pillow at the same time.

Máximo put on a condom, poured oil over his cock, and began entering her slowly from behind while she clenched her teeth and let out her breath in little bursts. Diego stayed still inside her so Máximo could finish settling himself. When he was fully inside, they both began moving in coordination, one pulling out as the other thrust in, filling her from both sides.

—It hurt a little at first —she confessed—. But it was a pain I wanted. That I had asked for. After two minutes it didn’t hurt anymore; it was something else. I don’t know how to explain it. I could feel them both inside me, moving, and it was as if my whole body were vibrating. I had never felt so full.

Andrés stood in front of her on the bed, his cock in his hand, and brought it toward her face. Sofía took it in her hand first, then with her mouth. She kept going deeper, swallowing the entire cock while Diego and Máximo found a rhythm between the three of them. The bed made a horrible noise. At some point all three of them laughed at once at how ridiculous it sounded, and the tension broke completely. Sofía laughed too, Andrés’s cock still in her mouth, and a thread of saliva slipped from the corner of her lips.

—That’s when I relaxed completely —Sofía said—. When we laughed. It stopped being something serious and became something fun and incredibly hot at the same time. I felt like a pig, and I loved being one.

They changed positions several times. Sofía climbed on top of Máximo, riding him slowly, while Diego positioned himself behind her and pushed into her ass again. Andrés knelt near her face, and she kept sucking his cock, alternating between the three of them, sucking Diego too when he asked her to—“Come on, taste yourself,” he told her, and she did it without hesitation, sucking the cock that seconds earlier had been inside her.

Afterward, all four of them lay on their sides, in a chain: her in the middle, Máximo fucking her from the front, Diego from behind, Andrés once again with his cock in her mouth. Every change was a moment of laughter, adjustment, “Wait, not like that,” and sweaty bodies finding their places by touch. They touched her tits, tugged her nipples, grabbed her hair, and slapped her ass, the smacks ringing dryly against her wet skin.

—They treated me like a whore and I felt like a goddess —she told me—. It’s strange. I don’t know if that makes sense. But I was in charge. I decided when they changed, I asked for what I wanted. They did whatever I told them.

She came twice more there: the first time with Máximo inside her and Andrés’s fingers on her clit, the second with Diego fucking her on all fours so hard that her head slammed against the headboard. Each orgasm left her looser but hotter, begging for more.

It lasted almost an hour and a half.

At the end, she got off the bed and knelt on the floor, between the three of them standing in a semicircle. All three took off their condoms and began jerking off while looking at her. Sofía looked up at them from below, calm and confident, her mouth open and her tongue out. She put her hands on all three of them, one at a time, helping them, sucking their tips in turns.

Diego came first, with a grunt, unloading all his cum into her mouth and across her cheek. Sofía swallowed it, wiped herself with two fingers, and sucked them clean. Máximo came right afterward, across her tongue and chin, hot spurts running down her neck to her tits. Andrés, who had held out silently through everything, came last: he came across her chest, long ropes of semen falling between her tits and running down to her navel. She never looked away.

—I was wrecked —she told me—. Sweaty, covered in all three of their cum, mascara running, hair a complete mess. And happy. Genuinely happy. I can’t explain it any better than that.

Before showering, she grabbed her phone and asked them for pictures. They took twenty. Sofía smiling, tongue out, cum still on her face, surrounded by the three of them. One of her alone, looking at the camera, fingers in her mouth as she sucked off the remainder.

—I still have them —she told me, and took a long sip of wine.

***

The next day she went back to their house. This time, alone with Diego.

Máximo and Andrés had gone out to rent surfboards. Diego greeted her at the door with a smile different from the one he’d worn the night before: more intimate, less put on.

—“Today is different,” he told me. And it was.

They stayed in bed all afternoon. No hurry, no games, no one watching. Diego ran his fingers along her back for a long while before touching her seriously. He spoke softly into her ear. He asked her what she wanted. Sofía asked him to eat her out again like he had the night before, and he did, more slowly this time, sucking her clit until he made her come twice in a row with his tongue inside her.

Then he fucked her from the side, looking into her eyes, moving slowly, kissing her on the mouth as he fucked her. There was no hurry, no audience. Just his cock moving in and out, and her legs wrapped around his waist, squeezing him. They fucked—this time, yes, that was the word—three times between afternoon and sunset. Once like that, on their sides. Another time with her on top, moving slowly, guiding him with her hips until she came across his chest. And the last time in a spooning position, with him embracing her from behind as he moved slowly, finishing inside the condom with his mouth pressed to her neck.

—He told me I was beautiful —she said—. And I believed him. For the first time in a long time, I believed someone who said that to me. And that time, when he came, he stayed holding me for a long while. The night before, we had been four animals. That afternoon, we were two people.

Afterward, they lay in bed talking, staring at the ceiling while the fan turned slowly. He told her about his job, his family in Córdoba, a trip he wanted to take to Colombia. She told him about college, her friends, the things that frightened her. They found a lot in common, those absurd coincidences that make you believe the world is small or that there is something more.

Before Sofía left, Diego asked for her number.

—“When we get back to Buenos Aires, I’ll look you up,” he told me. I believed that too.

***

Sofía finished telling the story, took the last sip of wine, and looked at me with that earlier smile, the one she had brought back from the trip.

—And Diego? —I asked her.

—He never wrote. —She shrugged—. At first it hurt. Then I thought maybe it was better that way. What happened there stayed there, complete. It didn’t need a continuation to be what it was.

There was a silence. Outside, the wind moved something against the window.

—And your mom? —I asked her—. Did she never find out anything?

Sofía laughed for real, the first big laugh of the night.

—My mom spent that vacation having dinner with an accountant from Montevideo whom she met at the hotel on the second day. He brought her flowers, took her to watch the sunrise at the lighthouse, and opened the car doors for her. She went back to Rosario talking about him as if he were in a movie. They agreed to see each other again. I think they still write to each other.

She paused.

—She didn’t spread her legs once during the entire trip and came home floating. I fucked three guys in one night and one more three times the next day, and nobody sent me a message when we got back. —She lifted the empty glass—. I don’t know what lesson to take from that. Maybe none.

We toasted with the wine left at the bottom of the bottle.

—Do you want to see the pictures? —she asked me.

I said yes before she finished the question.