The Group Party of the Club’s Mature Women

When Nora came home the next day, she still wore that mixture of exhaustion and satisfaction on her face that only a long night of excess can leave behind. We had lived door to door for years and, although we weren’t related by blood, I called her “Gran” out of habit, affection, and because she herself had taken on that role with me ever since I moved in beside her as a much younger and rather lost woman.

I was already waiting for her in her kitchen, with freshly brewed coffee and a curiosity burning inside me. The night before, I had helped her get dressed for a supposed celebration among friends from the club. The tight black dress, dark stockings, the high heels she hardly ever wore, and that fine lingerie she had bought more out of daring than necessity left little doubt about the kind of party she was going to.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she said as soon as she closed the door. “I already know what you want.”

“I want the whole story,” I replied. “Don’t leave anything out.”

Nora let out a low laugh, set her handbag on the table, and sat down slowly, spreading her legs a little as if her body still hurt after so much use. She was over sixty, yes, but she also possessed an obscene confidence, the kind that makes a mature woman sexier than any tight clothing. She poured herself some coffee, held my gaze, and began to speak.

“There were five women and four men. And no, it wasn’t an innocent dinner.”

I knew several of her friends. Clara, the hostess, was round, loud, shameless, and the owner of a spacious house where nobody asked questions. Elia, the guest of honor, wore makeup as if every outing were a declaration of war. Teresa was elegant, big-arsed, and slow-moving, with the air of an impeccable lady that fooled anyone. Inés was small and nervous, laughed at everything, and touched too much when she drank. Nora was the newest member of the group, the one who still pretended to be shocked even though desire was already throbbing between her thighs.

“And the men?” I asked.

“Four very useful old perverts,” she said with a smile. “Ramiro, tall and dark, an asshole with a thick cock and plenty of stamina. Darío, short and talkative, with expert hands and a filthy mouth. Esteban, blond and lean, the roughest when he fucked. And Julián, the oldest, gray-haired, slow to get started but stubborn as an animal once he got worked up.”

I leaned against the table, fascinated. Nora took another sip and continued.

“At first everything seemed like an ordinary gathering. Soft music, drinks, snacks, dirty laughter. But it was all an act. They arrived late on purpose, so they would find us already dressed up, already looking at one another, already horny.”

According to her, when the men came in carrying ice and bottles, the atmosphere in the room changed. Their eyes stuck to the cleavage, the bare legs, the curve of asses squeezed by skirts. They were dressed almost casually, as if the awkwardness of their appearance made what they really carried more amusing: pent-up desire, old hunger, the habit of fucking among friends without too many formalities.

“I felt ridiculous for the first few minutes,” she admitted. “Like the newbie. Like the only one who didn’t really know what to do with her hands.”

“And what did you do?”

“Drink. And let them look at me.”

I imagined her standing in that room, tall and still beautiful, her large breasts pushing against the dress and her ass firm for her age, enduring their stares like an actress before going onstage. Nora knew how to use embarrassment the way others used perfume: she turned it into arousal.

“Clara took care of breaking the ice,” she said. “She deliberately bent over in front of everyone to pick up a napkin nobody had dropped. She wasn’t wearing panties. Just like that, she showed us her cunt and her ass as if she were displaying a tray of hors d’oeuvres.”

I laughed, and Nora nodded.

“After that, nobody pretended to be decent anymore.”

The touching began. An arm around a waist. A hand on a knee. Quick kisses on the mouth like jokes that stopped being jokes the moment they lasted a second longer. Darío was the first to press himself against Nora from behind when an old bolero began to play and several improvised couples started dancing on the rug.

“He grabbed my waist and began moving me against him,” she told me. “I felt his hard cock against my ass before he whispered anything.”

“What did he say?”

“‘You didn’t dress like that to play shy.’”

Nora smiled as she remembered the phrase. She told me she hadn’t moved away. On the contrary: she leaned back and slowly rubbed herself against that hardness while pretending to keep time with the music. One of Darío’s hands traveled up her belly to her chest, squeezing one breast over the dress. The other brushed her thigh, testing the slit in her skirt until it found bare skin directly.

“I was already wet,” she confessed without lowering her voice. “Long before they really touched me.”

The party sped up when Elia, the birthday girl, stood in the middle of the room with a glass in her hand and ordered everyone to stop acting like teenagers. Then she slipped the dress straps off her shoulders, lowered the fabric to her waist, and bared her breasts amid applause and whistles. At her age they were full, heavy, and soft; precisely for that reason, Nora said, they looked obscenely real, exciting, available.

“Ramiro went to suck them immediately,” she said. “He knelt in front of her and sucked her nipples as if he hadn’t tasted a woman in weeks.”

Elia threaded her fingers through his hair and let him suck while Teresa positioned herself behind him to open his trousers. It didn’t take long for her to pull out his cock, large and already hard, and start jerking him off in front of everyone. That was when the gathering stopped being a party and became a glorious disorder of bodies touching without turns or shame.

“And you?” I asked, almost breathless.

“Inés kissed me.”

Nora paused briefly, as if enjoying my expression. Then she continued.

Inés led her toward an armchair, took her face in both hands, and kissed her with an awkward but sincere urgency. Tongue, saliva, small moans in each other’s mouths, breath mingled with wine and mint. As they kissed, one of Inés’s hands squeezed Nora’s ass while the other pulled down the strap of her dress. Nora hadn’t expected to start with a woman, but she didn’t resist either.

“She put her hand between my legs and found me soaked,” she said. “She laughed like a proud little slut.”

“Did you like it?”

“I loved it. Because she didn’t pretend to be delicate. She thrust two fingers into me at once and looked me in the eyes while she did it.”

Nora pressed her thighs together at the memory. According to her, Inés spread her farther open on the armchair and moved the fabric of her panties aside to rub her clitoris with a wet fingertip, slowly at first and then harder. Nora began to pant. Not because of romance or novelty, but because of the simple, precise violence of being touched exactly where she needed it most, in the middle of a room full of equally aroused people.

Clara, naked from the waist down, passed in front of them leading Julián by the hand as if taking him for a walk. The old man already had his cock out and half-hard. She sat him in a chair, knelt between his legs, and started sucking him with such brazen dedication that everyone stopped to watch for a moment. The cock grew in her mouth, heavy and slobbering, until it was completely hard. Clara pulled away for a second just to say:

“See? Nobody came here to fall asleep.”

Nora burst out laughing as she repeated it, but immediately returned to the story. Inés had nearly stripped her when Darío approached from the front and opened the neckline of her dress enough to pull out one breast. He began sucking it while the other woman kept fingering her. Nora told me that moment scrambled her head: a mouth on her nipple, a hand between her legs, her own hand gripping the back of the armchair, and all around them the wet sounds of other blowjobs, kisses, and laughter broken by moans.

“I pulled my panties to one side and told Inés not to stop,” she confessed. “I couldn’t pretend to be a lady anymore.”

Inés obeyed. She knelt between Nora’s legs, pushed the fabric completely aside, and buried her face in her cunt. Nora almost screamed when she felt the direct, flat tongue at first, then harder, moving up and down from the opening to the clitoris. Darío took the opportunity to slide two fingers into her while she sucked on the other woman, and the double stimulation made her tremble.

“I felt the fingers moving in and out, and her tongue giving me exactly what burned most. I didn’t last long. I came right there on the armchair, soaking her mouth.”

“Fuck,” slipped out of me.

“That’s what everyone said when they heard me.”

Her first orgasm served as a signal for everyone else to let go even more. Elia was already lying on the rug with Ramiro between her legs, fucking her slowly but deeply, while Teresa kissed her mouth and pinched her nipples. Clara kept switching between Julián’s cock and Esteban’s tongue, which was licking her ass from behind while she sucked. Inés soon moved away from Nora to climb onto Darío’s face, and the room became a tangle of spread legs, bare asses, and hoarse voices begging for more.

“I was so horny that I got up from the armchair looking for a cock,” Nora said with delicious frankness.

She found one immediately. Esteban, the blond, grabbed her by the waist and pushed her against the wall. He didn’t even waste time kissing her much. He hiked up her dress, roughly pulled her panties aside, and felt her cunt with two fingers smeared with saliva and someone else’s lubrication. Nora protested at the force of the gesture, but not so he would stop—just by pure reflex.

“He told me, ‘If you’re this wet, take what comes next.’ And he put it in me.”

She paused, as if she could still feel the thrust.

“In one stroke,” she added. “All the way in.”

Braced against the wall, her heels wobbling and her hands searching for something to hold, Nora took Esteban’s cock dry, deep, thick, and impatient. The impact made her release a short moan that immediately became ragged breathing. He began fucking her with a hard rhythm, pulling almost the entire cock out and driving it back in until his thighs slapped against her ass.

“It wasn’t elegant,” she told me. “It was pure in and out. And I loved it.”

Esteban held one of her breasts with one hand and her neck with the other, tilting her head slightly backward. Nora felt the penetration growing wetter with every thrust, felt her cunt opening to take him better, felt the sound of wet flesh beginning to mingle with everyone else’s moans. Nearby, Elia was still being fucked on the floor. On the other side, Clara had gone on all fours so Julián could penetrate her while she masturbated in front of everyone.

“Then Ramiro came up behind me and put his fingers in my ass,” Nora said, lowering her voice slightly.

The sentence left me frozen.

“Just like that?”

“With saliva first. He wasn’t a savage. But yes, quickly.”

Nora told me she instinctively spread her legs wider when she felt the wet finger circling her anus, massaging first and then entering slowly while Esteban continued fucking her cunt without easing up. The combination dismantled her. Her cunt squeezing a cock, her ass yielding to a finger, a male hand twisting her nipple, and the brutal certainty that she was being used between two men. She asked for more.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she teased. “I told him, ‘Another one,’ and he put it in.”

Ramiro added a second finger, opening her slowly but firmly, and Nora came again, this time moaning without being able to hide anything. Esteban noticed immediately because her body began trembling around his cock. He kept thrusting until he emptied himself with a muffled growl, pulling out in time to come across Nora’s thigh and buttock.

“He left me dripping everywhere,” she said. “Cum, sweat, lubrication... a delicious mess.”

After that came more, and she narrated it all to me in obscene detail, enjoying the way I was gradually being rendered speechless. Teresa had prepared a strap-on with a dildo as a joke for the birthday girl, but ended up using it for real. She laid Elia on some cushions, spread her legs, and began fucking her slowly, pushing the dildo in while Ramiro made the woman lying down kiss his own cock. Elia sucked, moaned, and took the other woman’s thrusts with equal abandon, alternating saliva in her mouth and pleasure between her legs.

Nora didn’t watch for long. Darío sat her on the broad arm of the sofa and knelt in front of her. He parted her thighs and devoted himself to licking her cunt as if he wanted to empty her. It wasn’t a gentle licking, she told me. It was dirty and hungry, his tongue moving in and out, with little bites on her lips and short sucks on her clitoris that made her arch.

“I held his head and moved against his face,” she confessed. “By then I didn’t care about anything anymore.”

While Darío ate her, Inés appeared behind her and kissed her back, licked her neck, and slipped a hand between her breasts, squeezing them shamelessly. Then she brought one hand down to Nora’s mouth and ordered:

“Suck your fingers.”

Nora obeyed. Inés pulled them out wet and brought them to her ass, putting one in first and then two while Darío continued working on her cunt. Nora swore that was how she had one of the dirtiest orgasms of her life: mouth open, body bent over, legs trembling on the sofa, her cunt throbbing against a man’s face and her ass yielding to a woman’s hand.

“I ended up screaming at everyone not to stop,” she said, embarrassed and proud at once.

And they didn’t stop. The night continued turning from couple to couple, from threesome to threesome, from corner to corner. There were shared blowjobs, asses raised in the air, cunts spread open beneath the warm light of the living room, hands full of saliva, fingers entering wherever necessary to keep anyone going. Julián took a long time to come, but when he finally did, he did it in thick streams over breasts or bellies. Ramiro was the kind who could get hard again soon afterward if a mouth kept working on him. Esteban fucked with the physical stubbornness of someone who enjoyed the effort more than the performance. Darío was the most versatile: he sucked, fingered, put his cock in, went back to using his tongue, never demanding the spotlight but leaving every woman trembling.

“And how many of them were you with?” I asked.

“All of them,” she replied. “And two of the women.”

She didn’t say it boastfully, but with an almost amused serenity. Like someone listing an entire menu she had sampled out of curiosity and appetite. She told me that later, after midnight, she remained on all fours on the rug while Ramiro penetrated her from behind. Esteban positioned himself in front of her so she could suck him, and she took the cock in her mouth at the same time as she felt the thrusts in her cunt. Ramiro gripped her hips tightly, driving into her until she drooled over the other man’s shaft.

“That position drove me crazy,” she admitted. “Having one cock entering below and another filling my mouth. I couldn’t think about anything else.”

Ramiro came inside her that time. She felt him empty himself hot and deep, with several profound spasms. As soon as he pulled out, some of the semen ran down her thighs. Esteban lifted her by the chin and told her to swallow his too. Nora held my gaze as she told me, utterly without shame.

“And I swallowed it all.”

The room seemed to have shrunk beneath the amount of heat, the smell of sex, and the exhausted but insatiable bodies. At one point, the women were alone for a few minutes while two of the men went to the bathroom and the others looked for more drinks. That was when another scene took place, one Nora said she would never forget.

Teresa sat her on the floor, spread her legs, and knelt between them. Inés positioned herself behind Nora to kiss her and masturbate her nipples. Clara, naked and sweaty, lay down beside her to offer her mouth. The three of them made her come again: Teresa licking patiently, Inés fingering her, Clara kissing her forcefully and letting her touch her breasts while they laughed like old, obscene schoolgirls.

“That was when I really thought I wouldn’t be able to take any more,” Nora said. “But the body always finds somewhere to draw another bout of arousal from.”

When the men returned, they found her with her dress crumpled around her waist, her legs spread, and her face contorted with pleasure. According to her, that only made them want to use her again. And they did. There was another round of slower, heavier fucking, exhaustion lodged in their muscles but desire still alive. Some time on the sofa, some time on a blanket on the floor, a half-asleep blowjob that ended in laughter. The orgy no longer had any precise shape; it was simply one wet, disorderly continuation.

Near dawn, with rain beating on the patio roof, the bodies finally began to surrender for real. One person fell asleep with his cock still out. Another woke with a hand on someone else’s breast. Someone went to the bathroom and returned wrapped in a blanket. Clara handed out strong coffee and the remnants of liquor while everyone remained half naked, smelling of cum, sweat, and old perfume.

“I slept for a while with Julián snoring on my shoulder and Teresa pressed against my back,” Nora said. “I never thought something like that could feel so comfortable.”

I looked at her in silence. She smiled tiredly. The coffee cup trembled slightly between her hands.

“Do you regret it?”

“Not one bit.”

Then she rose slowly and approached the counter. I remained seated, hot just from listening to her. Nora turned toward me with the same crooked smile she had worn when she began the story.

“The worst part,” she said, “is that while they were fucking me several times, I thought about how I was going to tell you.”

I felt a sharp blow in my belly.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I’m not kidding. I knew you’d want every detail. And that turned me on even more.”

She came closer until she was standing in front of me. She caressed my cheek with an almost insulting tenderness after everything she had just described. I could smell the fresh soap from her shower mixed with a faint, almost imaginary trace of the previous night’s sex.

“Now you know why I came home walking funny,” she murmured.

“And why you’re so happy.”

“That too.”

We stood looking at each other for a long second. Outside, it was already full daylight. Inside, in that kitchen, the air seemed to have thickened with every word she had spoken.

“Next time,” I said at last, “I want to help you choose the dress again.”

Nora let out a low, satisfied laugh.

“Next time,” she replied, “maybe you won’t just help me get dressed.”

And with that she lifted the cup to her lips, as if she had just said the most natural thing in the world.