The Bachelorette Party Where I Lost Every Boundary

For those who have already read something of mine, there’s no need for me to introduce myself, but for the new ones I’ll do it anyway. My name is Lorena, I’m Colombian, and I’m at that age where a woman stops asking permission to enjoy herself. Today I’m on my own, with no ties of any kind, after many years of a marriage that ended for reasons that aren’t even worth telling.

When I was still married, I experienced everything alongside my husband at the time. Threesomes, exchanges, nights with other women, parties that started with a drink and ended in any way imaginable. Today I’m going to tell you about something that happened to me quite a few years ago, a night that’s stayed etched in my memory like few others.

A friend invited me to a bachelorette party. The bride was her neighbor, a girl I barely knew, but I felt like going. As always, I went with my husband’s approval. I didn’t hide anything from him, especially not in cases like that.

“Are you going to that party?” he asked me while I got ready in front of the mirror.

“I am. You know those gatherings lead to little things,” I answered, looking at him through the reflection.

He laughed and kept reading in bed. He let me go without a single complaint, as always, with only two conditions: that I tell him everything when I got back, or at least bring him a piece of cake. That was the kind of complicity we had.

***

Things started early. They had rented a lounge designed especially for this kind of event. Dim lights, some red ones staining the walls, comfortable dark furniture, decor that smelled of a long night. It was one of those places that, just by walking in, puts your body into a different frequency.

My friend and I sat on a large sofa in a corner, with a drink in our hands. After a while, two other girls joined us and we started chatting and laughing. I took it slow with the alcohol; I like to feel things, not lose myself in them.

The waiters were young and handsome, and after a couple of drinks we started sending them hints that were barely hints at all. They played along with us in a way that was elegant and appreciated, never overstepping, never disrespectful, just an extra smile when serving, a gaze that lingered a second too long.

We sang, we danced, we did the typical bachelorette games: bets where whoever lost had to drink a shot or take off an item of clothing. And by then it was clear who came ready to let go. My friend was one of the rowdiest. Each round left her with less clothes and more daring, and it made me laugh to see her like that, wound up like a teenager.

Then the show began. Four dancers came into the room and the air changed. They were spectacular men, well-built, the kind who know how to move and know how to look. They danced for everyone, came close, let themselves be touched just enough to set things off, then backed away before anyone got used to it. The whole room was a chorus of screams and applause.

This is getting serious, I thought, not imagining just how serious it would get.

***

The turning point was set by the bride herself. In the middle of the show, she knelt in front of one of the dancers, yanked his thong down, and pulled his cock out with her teeth. It was a thick, long dick, the tip already swollen and glossy. She took it all the way into her mouth without ceremony, all the way down, until her eyes watered and her makeup ran. She sucked it with both hands gripping the guy’s ass, swallowing it again and again, pulling it out covered in spit to lick his balls and then bury it back down her throat. In front of everyone, as if that were the real reason for the party.

It was like lighting a fuse. In a matter of minutes, what had been a show turned into something else. The four guys settled onto the sofas with their cocks out, hard, pointing at the ceiling, and the guests started lining up, laughing, shoving each other, taking turns sucking them. Each one of them ended up surrounded by three or four women at once: one riding the dick, another with her tits out offering them to his mouth, another kneeling and waiting her turn with her tongue already out. The order had broken down completely and nobody seemed to want to put it back together. The air smelled of sweat, semen, and wet pussy.

My friend grabbed my hand to pull me toward the chaos.

“Come on, don’t just stay there,” she said, tugging at me. “There’s cock for everyone.”

“No, wait, let me watch,” I answered, laughing as I pulled free.

There was a little struggle, both of us dying of laughter, until I managed to wriggle loose. She kept talking right into my ear, but with the music I couldn’t make out a single word. In the end she gave me a gentle shove, sat me back down on the sofa, and made a gesture with her finger: don’t get up, stay there. I took my drink, got comfortable, and devoted myself to watching the madness that had overflowed the lounge.

And I have to confess that watching is a pleasure too. Seeing them all lost, with their dresses hiked up to their waists, their pussies out, threaded onto the dancers’ cocks, hearing the moans mixed with laughter, feeling the atmosphere heat up in a different way. I wasn’t drunk, I was lucid, and that made every detail hit me even deeper.

I focused on little things. The way one of the girls bit the back of her hand to keep from screaming while a dancer took her from behind, holding her by the hips and driving it into her to the hilt with every thrust. The way another, on her knees, closed her eyes as if she were praying while a cock went in and out of her mouth, leaving strings of saliva on her chin. The sweat shining on their backs under the red lights. The way the bride, now out of her dress, got a spray of hot cum across her face and tits while she laughed out loud and licked her lips. I crossed and uncrossed my legs on the sofa, squeezing them together, feeling desire gather slowly between my thighs without anyone having touched me yet. I slipped my hand under my skirt almost without realizing it and found my panties soaked, my pussy swollen, my clit throbbing as if it had a heartbeat of its own.

***

What I didn’t see coming was what happened next. My friend, who was definitely more than a few drinks in, had let herself go completely. I saw her coming from the other side of the room with four or five girls behind her. I thought they were coming to sit beside me, to rest. I was wrong.

They started taking their places one behind another, forming a line beside the sofa, and I still didn’t understand what they were plotting. I didn’t have time to ask anything. I felt someone lean over the back of the sofa and hands hold my face. One of the girls kissed me. It was a hard, decisive kiss, hungry in a way, and I, far from pulling away, answered just as eagerly.

We kissed slowly and deliciously, her tongue playing with mine while the noise of the room faded into a background murmur. And while that mouth was fully occupied with me, another girl knelt in front of me, gently spread my legs, yanked off my soaked panties in one pull, and slipped under my skirt.

What I felt when her tongue reached me for the first time arched my back. She licked my pussy from top to bottom, with a broad, flat tongue, savoring me whole as if she were taking me down in one gulp. Then she made it pointed and hunted for my clit, circling it, sucking it, tugging at it with her lips. A current shot up from my center to the nape of my neck. When she finished, she came up to kiss me, and I tasted myself in her mouth, my own wetness mixed with her saliva, and it sent another jerk of pleasure through my belly.

That was what they did, one by one. Each girl in the line got her turn between my legs, and when she was done, she came up to kiss me while the next one sank into my crotch.

I don’t know how many there were. I lost count and I lost the desire to count them too. Different mouths, different rhythms, some rougher, others so slow they made me beg without words. One pushed two fingers deep inside me while sucking my clit, curling them upward until she found that spot that made me let out a muffled cry against the mouth that was kissing me. Another pulled my pussy lips apart with her thumbs and buried her whole face, her tongue going wherever it could, her nose rubbing my clit, panting too as if she were eating her favorite dish. Another, more mischievous, licked from my ass to my clit in one long pass, without warning, and made my legs tremble. I was reclined on the sofa with my skirt hiked up to my navel, my blouse unbuttoned and my tits out, with two or three mouths on my body at the same time: one on my pussy, another on a nipple, another devouring my mouth. Receiving, letting them do as they wished, feeling how pleasure built in waves that never quite broke because as soon as one mouth left, the next one arrived.

What was strangest was the contrast. Up top, the mouths kissing me were tender, almost affectionate, tongues playing without haste, teeth lightly nibbling my nipples until they were hard as stones. Down below, though, each girl imposed her own character: one devoured my pussy like she’d been hungry for days, sucking my lips one by one, swallowing my juices with noisy pleasure; another treated my skin with the tip of her tongue like someone writing a secret, drawing circles around my clit until she had me begging; another shoved her entire tongue inside me, fucking me with it while squeezing my ass cheeks with both hands. I didn’t know what to surrender to first, so I surrendered to everything.

The first orgasm hit me without warning, with one girl buried between my legs and another sucking a nipple. My whole body went taut, a long moan slipped out against the mouth kissing me at that moment, and I felt my pussy pulse on the tongue of the one who was down below. They didn’t even give me a break. The next one was already waiting, and she ate me with my clit still swollen and sensitive, ripping a second orgasm out of me, almost stacked on top of the first. Then came a third, and a fourth, until I lost all sense of count and ended up floating in a continuous tremor, my thighs shining with saliva and my own fluids running down the insides of my legs.

It was a long while. A very long while. So long that when the last one stood up, my legs were shaking, my pussy swollen and throbbing, my breathing broken, and I still could hardly believe it was really happening.

***

Little by little the girls dispersed, going back to the party as if nothing had happened, resuming their drinks and laughter. My friend sat down beside me, hair disheveled, mascara smeared, smiling from ear to ear.

“Did you like it?” she asked, searching my eyes.

I didn’t answer her with words. I took her by the nape and kissed her myself, since after all she had started everything. I pushed my tongue deep into her mouth while I unhooked her bra and set her tits free. And right there, on that sofa, in front of whoever wanted to look, the two of us ended up tangled together, giving back what the others had given me.

I lay her back against the cushion, opened her legs, and knelt between them. I licked her pussy slowly, savoring her, with my tongue flat first and then hunting for her clit with the tip. She was so wet that my mouth filled just from pressing my lips against her flesh. I slid two fingers inside and curled them upward while I kept sucking her clit, and I felt her back arch and her hand grab my hair, pressing my face harder against her pussy. She came in my mouth moaning my name, trembling all over, and I didn’t let go until she begged me to stop.

Then we settled into a scissoring position, one of her legs crossed over mine, my leg crossed over hers, our two pussies meeting skin to skin. We started moving slowly, rubbing, slipping, mixing our juices, seeking each other’s clits. She looked me in the eyes while we rocked, mouth open, panting, and I held her gaze while pleasure rose through my belly again. Her body against mine, her hands where so many others had been before, and this time yes, a connection between her and me that had nothing to do with drunkenness. We came together, tightly pressed, cunt to cunt, stifling our moans in a deep kiss.

When the party began to die down and the lounge grew calm, with my body still buzzing and my pussy pulsing from so many orgasms, I worked up the courage to suggest something that had been circling in my mind for a while.

“Hey, would you come over one day?” I asked. “To my place. With my husband. The three of us.”

She already knew him from before, so I didn’t catch her by surprise. She thought for a second, biting her lip, and gave a low laugh.

“Whenever you want,” she said. “You know I’m open to everything. And with what you just did to me, I want more.”

We said goodbye with another kiss, this time calm, and each of us went home with that promise floating in the air.

***

I got home at dawn, without panties, my pussy still swollen and my thighs sticky. My husband was asleep soundly. I undressed in silence, slipped into bed, and slowly pulled down his underwear without waking him. He had a soft, warm cock, and I took it all into my mouth like that, half asleep, waking it with my tongue. I sucked it slowly, patiently, feeling it harden between my lips until my mouth was full. When he opened his eyes, his cock was already hard as stone and halfway down my throat, and he didn’t quite understand whether it was dream or reality.

I let his cock go with a pop, climbed on top of him, and sank it into myself in one go, to the hilt. A long moan slipped out of me when I felt him fill me completely. I started riding him slowly, tightening my pussy around his cock, and while we did it I told him, without leaving out a single detail, everything I had lived that night.

“They licked my pussy one by one,” I whispered in his ear as I moved. “I lost count of how many mouths sucked me. I came on each one’s tongue.”

I felt him get harder with every word, felt him grip my hips and drive up into me from below. I told him how they had kissed me, how the bride had knelt to suck the dancer off in front of everyone, how I had ended up eating my friend’s pussy on the sofa. With every sentence his cock swelled more inside me and another orgasm gathered between my legs.

He threw me onto my back without pulling out, got on top of me, and started fucking me hard, punishing my pussy with deep thrusts while I kept talking in his ear, describing every tongue, every finger, every orgasm. He came inside me with a roar, filling me with hot cum, and I came with him, digging my nails into his back. I knew that whispered confession had excited the two of us equally.

“And now what?” he asked me, his voice ragged, still inside me, still hard.

“Now comes the best part,” I whispered in his ear. “My friend wants to be part of it. The three of us.”

It didn’t even take a week for that promise to come true. We had our first and only threesome with her, one afternoon that deserves its own story and that I’ll tell you another time. But that, as they say, is another story.