The Fantasy It Took Me Years to Dare to Fulfill

My name is Noelia and I’m twenty-six years old. They say I’m pretty, although I see myself as pretty ordinary. I’m petite, barely over five feet tall, with wavy chestnut hair that I almost never know how to style. I have dark eyes, a small nose, and lips a little fuller than usual. My breasts aren’t bad for my build, although I’ve always thought they were a little saggy.

What I’m about to tell happened a little over a month ago, and I still can’t get it out of my head. Yes, I did something I would never have imagined of myself: I offered myself to a whole group of strangers. And the question I ask myself most is not why I did it, but how a shy, quiet girl, the kind who blushes when asking for the check, ended up wanting it with all her strength.

It wasn’t a decision I made in a day. It was something that had been cooking inside me for years.

The first time I saw a video like that was by chance, on a friend’s phone screen. We were on a park bench, a group of four or five, and she was playing something while we laughed nervously. “That’s disgusting,” they all said, but none of them looked away. I leaned in out of curiosity. On the screen there was a woman surrounded by men, an image my friend skipped past quickly without stopping. At the end she appeared completely covered, smiling, as if she had just won something. My friends made faces of disgust. I didn’t say anything, but that image stayed etched in my mind for weeks.

***

I remember a Sunday morning when my parents had gone out and the house was silent. I woke up horny, stroked myself under the sheets, and started touching myself. I usually finish quickly, just with my fingers, but that morning I wanted more. I grabbed my phone and started searching. It wasn’t the first time; I liked videos of mature men, though I couldn’t really explain why.

As I scrolled through thumbnails, one stopped me: a young girl, smiling, with a man on each side. I felt a strange nervousness, half shame, half desire, and clicked anyway. I expected immediate action, but the video started with an interview, the girl still dressed, answering questions with a shyness that felt strangely familiar.

I stopped touching myself. I just stared, I don’t know if aroused or simply fascinated. There was something inside me, call it filth or curiosity, that pushed me to keep watching. I don’t remember the whole video, but I do remember scattered scenes: how she started taking her clothes off surrounded by hands, how all those hands moved over her at once, how the pace built until, at the end, everyone finished almost at the same time. The girl waited with her eyes closed, not running away. I had been on the edge for a while, deliberately holding back so I wouldn’t miss anything, and when the end came I came so hard I don’t remember ever feeling that way before. I lay there panting, face up, with the phone still playing beside me.

From then on, that kind of video became my secret go-to. It was what worked best for me. Around that time I was very sexually active and started seeing Rubén, a guy from the neighborhood. He wasn’t my ideal type, but I was in the mood to try things.

One afternoon, while waiting for his bus on a street that was almost empty, I kissed him until he was breathless, pulled down his zipper, and blew him right there. He finished almost immediately, and I felt his semen slide hot over my hand. It was my first real contact with something I had seen so many times on a screen. I stared at my palm as if it were holding a secret.

***

Watching those videos again after that experience changed everything. Now I put myself in the girl’s place. I imagined being surrounded, taking it, feeling it. And every time I thought about it, a shiver ran through my whole body. It wasn’t just the idea of being surrounded: it was the surrender, the sensation of being the center of everything and, at the same time, no one at all.

I didn’t tell anyone. I was ashamed to even admit it to myself. But the idea came back again and again.

The next time I met Rubén was in the garage at his house, under the excuse that he was going to show me an old motorcycle he was fixing. I had other intentions. After a good while I knelt down and took him in my mouth. It was the first time I’d ever done that. He warned me he was close, but I didn’t pull away. The texture wasn’t what I expected, softer, and I was surprised by how hot it was going down my throat. The taste was weird, but the filthiness of the situation made up for everything.

From that point on, it became a habit with him. And, over time, with one or two others as well. Rubén didn’t go out much; I did. One night I ended up in the bathroom of an underground parking garage with two guys I had just met. I remember sucking both of them almost at the same time, how they came on my face within seconds of each other. That was the closest I had ever gotten to my fantasy, and I still go back to that night when I touch myself.

***

The idea of organizing something for real had been circling in my head for a long time, but I needed a push. I knew an ad on some dating website would be enough, but the mere thought of managing it, talking to strangers, coordinating everything, paralyzed me.

Then I met Andrés. It was in a chat room with strangers, a little over half a year ago. He was a man in his forties, polite and discreet, the kind who writes carefully. We gradually built enough trust to start chatting regularly. Our conversations were very charged, and in one of them, almost without thinking, I confessed my fantasy to him.

At first he was surprised, but right away he offered to organize everything. He told me all I’d have to do was show up at a place, at a time, and he would take care of making sure everything was ready and, above all, that it was safe. He was a meticulous man. He sent me long emails with questions, some of them obvious things I had never even considered.

—How many men do you want? —he wrote one day.

I hadn’t even thought about it.

I answered fifteen, just like that, off the top of my head. It seemed like a number that sounded good without sounding impossible.

A couple of weeks later another email arrived: he already had the people and a date. A shiver ran down my spine when I read it. It was really going to happen. And the following weekend, only a few days away. I got very nervous. In the same message there was a phrase I didn’t understand: “in the end it comes to one hundred and fifty apiece.” I asked him, and he explained that each man would pay that amount to attend.

I was stunned. My intention was never to charge, but to fulfill a desire. But it was also true that my laptop was dying and a little extra income would come in very handy. I agreed. Andrés sent me the address of a country house where the meeting would “take place.”

***

Those days I couldn’t think about anything else. I felt strange when I was with my parents or my friends, imagining what they would think if they knew what I was going to do on Saturday. I had never watched so many videos as I did that week; I liked watching them knowing that soon I would finally know what it really feels like.

The night before I barely slept. I got up early, took a very long shower, shaved everything, moisturized my skin. I looked at myself naked in the mirror for a long while, wondering how I would end up by the end of the day. The place was almost four hours away by train; Andrés chose it far away on purpose, to be discreet, and made sure none of the attendees were from my area.

He picked me up at the station. It was the first time I had seen him in person, and it calmed me to know that he would be taking part too. At least I wouldn’t be completely alone.

The house was beautiful, much more than I expected. We walked into a large, bright living room with a huge floor-to-ceiling window. They had removed the coffee table and spread out some kind of round blanket over a thick rug. That was where everything was going to happen. Seeing it impressed me: nothing like the cold, sloppy videos I knew. This was cozy, almost elegant, and that made me even more nervous.

The men hadn’t arrived yet. I had asked Andrés to keep everything flowing, with no introductions or small talk; I didn’t want to socialize, I was there for one thing. We sat in a little room off to the side to have a drink while we waited. The doorbell started ringing again and again. Andrés was seating people and then coming back to me. Every new voice on the other side of the wall raised my nerves another notch. Part of me was screaming that I was crazy, that I should leave; the other part was pushing me to keep going.

On one of those back-and-forth trips, Andrés came back, smiled at me, and said another sentence I won’t forget:

—We’re all here now.

I stood up without really thinking. I put on a short black dress, almost see-through, that I had bought just for that occasion and knew would end up in the trash. Nothing underneath. I looked at myself one last time in the mirror, wished myself luck under my breath, and went out.

***

Walking into that living room full of strangers was indescribable. Some were chatting, others were standing in silence. There were men of all ages, some attractive, others not so much. When they saw me, they smiled and started clapping. I didn’t know what to say. It was Andrés who broke the ice, asking them with a laugh if they thought I was pretty. He stood behind me, hugged me, and placed his hands on my breasts, stroking them while everyone watched. Little by little he pulled my dress down until my breasts were out.

That set them off. They started coming closer, some boldly, others shyly. One man quite a bit older than me bent down and kissed a nipple. Then I felt hands everywhere, impossible to tell whose. My dress ended up bunched around my waist. I still get turned on remembering all those hands on me, some gentle, others bolder. Fingers, mouths, tongues. A mix of touches I can’t even describe.

People usually think of these things only in terms of the ending, but feeling the desire of that many men at once is something huge. I got so horny. I felt like I owned them all and, at the same time, like their toy. I felt desired in a dirty, free way, and I loved feeling that way.

After that everything happened fast. Some of them took their cocks out and went for my hands. I looked down and saw four or five hands fighting to touch me. I knelt on the blanket and got started. I had to learn on the fly how to use my mouth without my hands, because I had one in each. They came in all sizes, some so big I could barely handle the tip. I remember the strong smell, a mix of men’s cologne. I went through the whole round, including Andrés, who had been waiting for that moment for a long time.

That’s when I understood that preparing myself mentally had done nothing: there was no time to think, only to do. My body instinctively repeated everything I had seen for years. I started feeling fingers between my legs, others caressing me from behind. I didn’t know what to tend to. Some men were moaning, others were saying nice things to me and some things that weren’t nice at all, but I enjoyed all of it equally. The tension in the room kept rising, everyone getting closer and closer to the edge.

The first to finish was a young guy, almost my age, while I had him in my mouth. Instinctively I moved him away so he would finish on my face. I felt those hot spurts and it was like uncorking a bottle: after that, they didn’t stop. With the remnants of the first one running down my cheeks, the second came, an older man who left my nose coated. Then it turned chaotic: they were jerking off and the one who was close would call for his turn. I opened my mouth, stuck out my tongue, and waited. The ones who took longer, I helped a little more.

Some came from far away, others left it all inside me. I swallowed more than I ever have in my life. I remember two at once, aiming at me, and how I took both tips into my mouth and squeezed them until they were emptied. It’s impossible to explain what that feels like. Some held my head with both hands, and although it was hard, I didn’t want them to stop. The more men went through, the more desperate I got. When the last one finished, I still wanted more.

***

I stood up in a daze, my knees aching from being on the floor so long. Many had already left; others were smoking or finishing their last drink. A few clapped again, which felt strange to me. I went to the bathroom, not because I needed to, but to look at myself in the mirror. The image didn’t disappoint me: I was covered, even in my hair. My heart was pounding and it turned me on enormously to see myself like that. I took a photo so I would never forget it.

I got into the shower, leaned against the tiles, and let the water run. There I touched myself, fast and hard, one hand between my legs and the other running over my neck, my chest, my face still wet. I came almost immediately, in a brutal way. I had rarely been so turned on.

I came out in a bathrobe. Only Andrés was left in the living room, everything already tidied up. He smiled at me and we hugged.

—You were incredible —he whispered in my ear while he slipped an envelope into my hand.

And that was how I fulfilled my fantasy. It was a unique experience, but I don’t think I’m going to repeat it. I’d rather remember it exactly as it was: something unrepeatable, mine alone, something I still relive today every time I close my eyes.