The Last Bachelorette Night No One Knew About

There were three weeks left until the wedding and I no longer remembered the last time I’d slept more than six hours straight.

The to-do list was endless. I had to pick up the dress from the seamstress. The photographer confirmed two hours late. The florist changed my quote without warning. Diego called me every afternoon and said everything was going to be perfect, that I shouldn’t worry so much, that in three weeks we were going to begin the best part of our lives. I listened to him and calmed down. I truly loved him, with that quiet, steady kind of love that is built slowly.

But for weeks I’d had something lit inside me that Diego couldn’t reach.

It wasn’t dissatisfaction. It wasn’t doubt. It was hunger, simply that. The kind of hunger that knows it comes from somewhere else and has very little to do with love.

***

Sergio organized the send-off. Rented house on the outskirts, forty minutes from the city: pool in the garden, covered jacuzzi on the terrace, three bedrooms, and a big kitchen. “We deserve something big,” he’d written in the group chat. There were six of us: Sergio, Nicolás, and Tomás on one side; Mónica and Rebeca on the other; and me, the unwilling star of everything.

We arrived Friday afternoon with the trunk full of wine and food. We set up the barbecue as the sun went down and Rebeca put music on from her phone. It was a good plan: dinner, drinks, laughter, and bed before two. That’s how I’d imagined it, at least.

I was wearing a tight white spaghetti-strap dress that rode up every time I bent over. The three guys kept staring at me. I’ve been friends with Sergio, Nicolás, and Tomás for years, and I know that look they try to hide and never quite manage. That night they weren’t even trying to hide it.

Diego texted me at nine: “Enjoy it so much, my love. I’ll pick you up tomorrow.”

I replied with a heart and left the phone face down on the terrace table.

After dinner, while we were clearing the plates, Sergio took a little metal box from his jacket pocket and opened it on the table. Six round pills, a muted pink.

“So the night can be what it’s meant to be,” he said, with that smile he gets when he’s already decided something. “Good-source MDMA. Just one each.”

We all looked at one another. Mónica bit her lip. Rebeca let out a nervous laugh. I felt a tingle in my stomach that went straight downward.

“Just tonight,” I said, taking a pill. “No one finds out about anything. Tomorrow I go back to being the perfect bride.”

We took them with the last glass of wine and got into the jacuzzi.

***

At first it was just the hot water and the longer laughs, the hugs that lasted a second more than usual. The MDMA took twenty minutes to hit. When it did, it was as if someone had turned up the volume on everything at once: the sounds of the night garden, the water bubbling between bodies, the weight of the warm air on the terrace.

My whole skin became sensitive. Even the water’s touch was almost too much. My nipples ached against the bikini fabric.

Sergio moved behind me in the jacuzzi. His chest against my back, his hands on my hips, sliding slowly toward my waist.

“Fuck, Andrea...” he murmured in my ear.

I didn’t say anything. I pushed my body back against him.

Nicolás got in front of me. He looked at me for a moment, serious, as if asking, and then he kissed me. It was a kiss unlike any I’d had in a long time: slow, exploratory, with a tongue that wasn’t in a hurry. While he kissed me, Tomás untied the top of my bikini from behind. The fabric floated away in the hot water.

Tomás ran his thumbs over my nipples and found them hard.

“How many years have we been friends?” he said, not waiting for an answer, and lowered his head.

The MDMA turned every sensation into something much bigger than itself. A soft bite on my shoulder made me arch my back. Sergio’s hand sliding down my belly to the bikini waistband was a current that didn’t stop at the skin.

They lifted me out of the jacuzzi together.

***

Sergio had prepared the living room before we arrived. Mattresses on the floor, clean sheets. He’d planned it from the start and I knew it and it didn’t bother me in the slightest.

They laid me down. The ceiling was full of shadows moving with the candlelight.

“I want you to fuck me,” I said. Without drama. The way you say anything that’s true.

Sergio went first. He knelt between my open legs and lowered his head without hurrying. His tongue was broad and patient, nothing like what I’d imagined. He licked slowly, learning every angle, with no rush at all. I closed my eyes and gripped the sheets with my hands.

Nicolás knelt beside me and offered me his cock. I took it in my hand, looked at it for a second, and took it into my mouth. It was a different sensation: the weight, the heat, the taste of clean, aroused skin. I started sucking it slowly while Sergio kept working between my legs.

Tomás took care of my breasts. He alternated between the two, squeezing, licking, biting my nipples with pressure that was right on the edge between pain and no pain. The MDMA turned that edge into something I wanted never to stop.

Mónica and Rebeca had taken their clothes off too. They were kissing at the far end of the mattresses, glancing over at us, their hands between each other’s legs.

They put me on all fours.

Nicolás entered me from behind, slowly, all the way in, and stayed still for a moment. Just that second of stillness before he started moving was enough to make me let out a long moan around Sergio’s cock.

Tomás spat on my ass and started working it with his fingers. One first, patiently. Then two, twisting, opening me without hurrying. When he added the third I was already begging for it with my body, pushing back.

He entered slowly, centimeter by centimeter. When he was completely inside, I felt both holes full at the same time for the first time in my life.

They found a rhythm. It took them a little while, as always happens, and then they found it and I had no more thoughts. Only pressure, movement, heat.

Mónica moved beneath me and started licking my clit with the flat of her tongue. Rebeca took my face and kissed me with the taste of wine and something else sweet.

I came hard. A long orgasm that started low and rose until I could no longer hold it back and I cried out against Rebeca’s mouth.

***

Nicolás came inside me first, growling low, holding my hips. Tomás held out a little longer in my ass and came too. When they both pulled out, I felt the heat they left behind and the muscle pulsing on its own.

The three guys put me on my knees in the middle of the living room. They jerked off in front of me, unhurried, looking me in the face. One after another they came: on my face, on my breasts, in my open mouth. I swallowed what I could. The rest ran down my chin and neck.

Mónica and Rebeca came over. They kissed me between them, tasting it, sharing it.

The night had barely begun.

***

The MDMA lasted for hours. At some point I lost count of how many times I came. Pleasure arrived in overlapping waves, each one before the last had gone down, and between wave and wave only the most immediate present existed: the texture of the skin on top of me, the smell of hot bodies, the sound of the mattresses.

I was fucked in every possible position. Pussy, ass, mouth. The guys recovered and we started again. Mónica and Rebeca got in the middle, adding hands and mouths, taking turns with the guys and with each other.

At one point Rebeca sat her pussy on my face and I licked her hungrily while Sergio fucked my ass with slow, deep thrusts. At another, Mónica fisted my pussy while Tomás fucked me from behind. The MDMA turned that double pressure into something right on the edge of what the body can process and still keep functioning.

I came crying once. Tears that weren’t from sadness, only from too much.

***

Saturday dawned with everyone sprawled out on the mattresses, sticky and exhausted. We showered in shifts, ate bread with cheese, drank lots of water. The house smelled like what had happened and no one made any comment about it.

By midmorning we started again, but slower. The high had fully worn off and what was left was something more animal and more conscious at the same time. Without the chemical push of the night before, the movements were slower and more deliberate. By then everyone already knew what the others liked and went straight for it.

In the afternoon they laid me out between Nicolás and Sergio. One in my pussy, the other in my ass, moving slowly and calmly. Tomás watched from the armchair and jerked off without rushing. Mónica rested her head on my chest and listened to my racing heart. Rebeca stroked my hair.

I came slowly, without shouting this time. A long, deep orgasm that left me trembling for a few seconds and then still, with my breathing high and my eyes closed.

Saturday night was more of the same, but softer. More kisses, more skin, less urgency. Someone put on low music. We drank more wine. We rolled around the mattresses until late with no fixed destination, without hurrying.

***

Sunday morning we cleaned up in silence.

We folded the sheets, gathered the glasses, opened the windows wide. Fresh morning air came in and the smell of two days indoors began to slowly fade. Tomás made coffee. Rebeca found some cookies at the bottom of a bag and handed them out.

We hugged at the door before getting into the cars. Long hugs, without words. Rebeca squeezed me tightly and said nothing. Mónica kissed me on the cheek.

Sergio was last. He took my face in both hands and looked straight into my eyes for a moment.

“Be happy, Andrea. Truly.”

“I know,” I replied.

I got into the car alone. My body ached in different ways in different places, a complete, detailed catalog of the last two days. I still smelled like them despite the shower.

***

On the drive back, with Sunday sun coming through the windshield and the radio low, I thought about Diego. About the face he would make when he saw me arrive. About the kiss he’d give me, soft and calm, just like him. About the wedding in three weeks, the dress, the flowers, the photographer.

I loved him. That hadn’t changed.

What had happened in that house was also real, also mine, even if no one else was ever going to know about it. I didn’t really know what to call it. I didn’t feel like I needed to name it either.

I parked in front of my building, went up the stairs, and put the key in the lock.

I had things to organize.