The Night I Agreed to Be Shared Behind the Masks

We had been talking about it in bed for three years.

Not as some vague fantasy, the kind you mention just to say it and then forget once the excitement passes. We talked about it seriously, with names, with scenarios, with details that kept getting refined each time: me fucking other men, him watching from some corner with his cock hard in his hand, the two of us agreeing on rules that seemed reasonable until darkness made them impossible.

Mateo always ended up saying the same thing.

—I want to see your mouth stuffed with another cock —he would say, his fingers sunk into my wet cunt—. I want to see how they look at you when they don’t know this ass is mine.

And I understood what he wasn’t saying: that he also wanted me to come back in the end. That tension between lust and jealousy was exactly what lit both of us up, what made him cum in torrents inside me every time he whispered those things in my ear.

The invitation arrived in a black envelope with no return address, slipped under the door of our apartment one October afternoon. Inside was a thick cardboard card with a single line embossed in gold: “Morfeo. Hacienda San Jerónimo, Querétaro. Saturday, 11:00 p.m. Venetian masks only.”

There was no phone number. No signature. Just that word and an address I took forever to find on the map: an eighteenth-century hacienda in the mountains, two hours from the city.

—How did they find us? —I asked.

Mateo smiled that way he has when he knows something he’s not going to tell me all at once.

—Someone at work mentioned that clubs like this existed —he said—. I gave them our names months ago. I didn’t expect them to answer.

I spent an entire week choosing what to wear. In the end I went with a black dress I’d bought for a wedding and never worn: fitted, mid-thigh length, with a neckline that showed half a breast and a side slit on the left hip that left the cunt accessible with just a lift of the fabric. No panties. That was a last-minute decision, standing in front of the mirror with the gold mask already in my hand and my nipples so hard they showed through the fabric.

Mateo fell silent when he saw me. He came up behind me, slid his hand through the slit, and with two fingers checked that I was naked underneath. He pulled them out shining.

—You’re soaked already —he said, his voice lower than usual, and he brought his fingers to his mouth to suck them—. I won’t be able to let you go.

—That’s the idea —I answered, and squeezed the bulge straining his pants.

We arrived at the hacienda after midnight. The access road was a long avenue lined with tall trees with torches burning in the trunks. The pink quarry-stone façade glowed under that orange light, its colonial arches casting shadows that moved with the wind like figures dancing for us.

A man in a black suit and leather mask was waiting for us at the main gate.

—The password —he said, without greeting us, without moving.

—Morfeo —we both said at the same time.

He let us in.

Inside smelled of old wood, incense, and something harder to name: a damp heat that didn’t come from the weather but from the bodies gathered in those rooms, an animal reek of sweat and sex that got into your nose and went straight down to your lower belly. They led us through a narrow corridor with low arches, the glazed clay floor cold under my heels, until we reached a central hall where there were already about thirty people.

All masked. All in evening wear. All with that particular tension of people who know something is going to happen but not exactly when.

A man with a silver mask gathered us in the center with the others, his voice measuring out every syllable.

—Welcome. Tonight the only name that exists is the one each of you wants to invent. Nothing here leaves these walls. Whoever breaks the pact also loses their membership. Understood?

We nodded in silence. They tied a red silk ribbon around our wrists, a sign that we had sworn.

Mateo squeezed mine before they knotted it.

—You’re going to be the most fucked woman tonight —he whispered—. And you’re coming back to me with someone else’s cum still dripping out of you.

I didn’t know whether it was a promise or a warning. I only know my whole cunt tightened when he said it.

The music started slowly: violins and a piano setting a languid rhythm, ideal for moving with nowhere particular to go. The candle flames in the chandeliers flickered with the draft of so many people walking by, and the artificial smoke from some hidden machine covered the floor as if we were floating above it.

We danced together for a while. Mateo kept me pressed against him, his hand on my lower back, his fingers brushing the edge of the dress slit and slipping in now and then to pinch one ass cheek or graze the lips of my cunt without anyone seeing. His hard cock against my hip set the rhythm. I felt his tension: it wasn’t fear, it was anticipation. The same as mine, with my stomach tight, my legs slightly weak, and a thread of moisture already running down the inside of my thigh.

A man with a leopard mask approached at an unhurried pace. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with a tuxedo that fit him perfectly and a bulge at his crotch he didn’t bother to hide.

—May I? —he asked Mateo, not me.

Mateo looked at me. I nodded.

He took me by the hand and led me to the center of the floor. He danced well: with the kind of confidence that doesn’t need to prove anything. His hands were firm on my waist, and when I turned against him, his body met mine without hesitation. I felt his cock pressed against my ass, thick, alive, and he leaned in closer so I’d know exactly what I was dealing with.

—Your husband is watching you from over there —he said, his mouth near my ear, while his hand slid up my hip to brush my breast over the fabric—. He hasn’t taken his eyes off you since I came in. You can tell how hard he is, can’t you?

I turned my head just enough to confirm it. Mateo was leaning against the wall, glass in hand, his silver mask gleaming under the candles. Still. Watching. The free hand was discreetly pressing the bulge in his pants.

That affected me more than anything the stranger could do. I felt my nipples tighten against the fabric and my cunt open on its own, sucking in air.

A woman in a silver dress joined us. She took my other hand with a naturalness that left no room for doubt, and the three of us danced in a slow circle while the artificial smoke wrapped around our feet. The leopard-masked man licked my neck from collarbone to ear and bit my earlobe. The woman ran her tongue along the other side and whispered, “you have gorgeous tits, I want to suck them all night,” into my ear, and at that moment Mateo moved away into another room and I knew that this was the beginning of something with no way back.

***

The separation came an hour later.

The man in the silver mask struck the floor twice with a wooden cane and announced the private phase was beginning. The couples would separate. The men upstairs. The women in the rooms of the right wing.

Mateo kissed the corner of my mouth before leaving.

—Let yourself get fucked properly —he said—. I’m coming back to find you with other people’s cum still leaking out of you.

I didn’t know if it was a promise or a threat. I only know my whole cunt clamped down when he said it.

They led me to a low-ceilinged room with dark wooden beams, burgundy velvet cushions on the floor, and candles set in stone niches. The smell there was different: tighter, more animal, like wet pussy and male sweat. There were four other women, all masked, all with the same expectant tension I was carrying in my chest, and one of them already had her dress pulled down to her waist, her tits bare, her nipples shining with saliva.

The men arrived shortly after. They were not the same ones who had been with us in the main hall. They were others. Strangers among strangers. Five, six, seven bodies that spread out through the room with predatory calm.

The leopard one came in first.

He sat beside me without asking, without speaking. His hand found my thigh through the slit of the dress. His fingers rose slowly, with a calm that unsettled me more than any urgency would have, until two of them sank all the way into my cunt without meeting any resistance.

—Fuck, you’re so wet —he murmured, pulling them out and pushing them back in with a slow rhythm that made me clench my teeth—. You’d been saving this for us all week, hadn’t you?

I took a moment to steady my breathing.

—Relax —he said, as if he could read my thoughts—. Nobody here wants anything you don’t want to give. But I’m going to give you everything you can take.

That calmed me. And when I calmed down, I opened. Literally: I spread my legs wider and offered my cunt up.

The woman in the silver dress positioned herself behind me, her hands sliding down my shoulders with deliberate slowness, her lips at my nape. She yanked my neckline down and bared both tits. Her fingers started playing with my nipples, twisting them with the kind of precision only another woman has, while she licked my ear and whispered filthy things. A second man knelt in front of me, his hands spreading my knees all the way apart.

—Can I eat your cunt? —he asked, looking up at me from below, his lips already almost brushing my thighs.

—Eat it all —I answered.

He lifted the dress fabric and buried his face there. His tongue started on the inner thigh, licking up the wetness that had run down, and slowly climbed until it found the lips of my cunt. He parted them with two fingers and licked me from bottom to top, long, flat, unhurried, until he reached my clit. There he stayed. Sucking, drawing on it, making circles with the tip of his tongue while he slid two fingers inside me and curled them to hit the exact spot deep within.

A long moan escaped me, turning heads in the room.

The leopard man took advantage of it to unfasten his pants. He pulled his cock out right in front of my face: thick, long, with the head swollen and a drop of fluid gleaming at the tip. He gripped the back of my neck without violence but firmly and brought it to my mouth.

—Open —he said.

I opened. He slid it in slowly, letting me feel every inch, and when I had the whole thing inside he began to move, calmly fucking my mouth at the same rhythm the other man was using on my clit. It tasted like whiskey and clean skin and something saltier that filled my tongue.

I thought of Mateo.

Not in a guilty way. I thought of him because I knew it was him making all this possible, that if I could open myself like this, with a stranger’s cock in my mouth and another tongue in my cunt, it was because at the center of it all there was him, waiting, probably with his hand inside his pants. And that certainty lit me up more than any tongue touching me at that moment.

I moaned against the masked man’s cock, and he moaned too, lower, and pulled it out of my mouth with a wet jerk before cumming.

—Not yet —he said, more to himself than to me—. Not yet.

The second man stood up, pulled his pants down, and took hold of my hip. He turned me onto my knees on the cushions, my ass up, my face buried in the velvet. I felt him position himself behind me, run the head of his cock along the lips of my cunt, soaking himself, and then drive in all at once, to the hilt.

The cry I let out was pure animal.

He started fucking me with long, hard thrusts, gripping my waist, pulling almost all the way out only to slam back in to the balls. The woman positioned herself in front of me, lifted her silver dress, and pressed her shaved cunt against my face. I ate her without thinking, my whole tongue inside her, sucking her swollen clit while she grabbed my head and moaned over me.

The leopard one settled at the side, cock in hand, and shoved it back into my mouth when I lifted my face to breathe. He wasn’t taking it out anymore: he was moving in and out, setting the rhythm of my throat while the other one behind me tore my cunt apart with his hips.

Three bodies, three different rhythms that found one common beat in less than a minute. I was the center of everything, swallowing, sucking, being penetrated, with the woman rubbing herself against my mouth and the man behind giving it to me so hard I could hear my own wetness slapping each time his balls hit me.

A third man came over. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him pull out a thinner but very long cock and put it in the woman’s mouth. She sucked it without stopping rubbing herself against my face. We were a chain. A single body made of five.

The ritual went on for a stretch of time I stopped being able to measure.

They made me change positions several times. At one point I was on my back, legs spread wide, one man fucking my cunt and another giving me his balls to lick while the woman sucked my tits. At another I was sitting astride the leopard one, riding him with all my strength, while a fourth man spread my ass cheeks and ran his tongue over my hole until I moaned in a way I had never moaned before.

The first one to cum was the second, inside me, squeezing my hips with clawed fingers and unloading into my cunt with a muffled roar. I felt the hot spurts filling me from the inside, one after another, and when he pulled out some of his cum dribbled down my thigh.

The leopard made me get off him and forced me to kneel. He finished with his fist wrapped around his own cock, aiming at my face, and covered my cheek, chin, open mouth, and lips with his load. The woman bent down to lick my face while the third man came from behind and shoved himself into the cunt already full of the other man’s cum.

There was a moment when my back arched on its own and the room went blurry. I shouted something I didn’t know what was —I think it was Mateo’s name, but I’m not sure— and came with a force that left my legs trembling. Hands held me up. Someone was still inside me. Someone else finished cumming on me, on my tits, on my stomach.

When it was over, I lay on the cushions breathing hard, cunt open and dripping, cum still sliding down my breasts, and with a strange clarity I had not expected to find there. As if something I’d been holding tight inside me had finally come loose.

The woman in the silver dress wiped my face with a silk handkerchief and kissed me on the mouth, long and soft, as if she were bringing me back to my body.

***

Mateo was waiting for me in the corridor.

I don’t know how long he had been there. His tie was loosened and his eyes were saying everything even though the mask covered half his face.

I threw my arms around him without saying anything. I knew I smelled like other men. I knew there was dried cum in my neckline. I didn’t care, and neither did he.

His arms wrapped around me tightly, his mouth on top of my head, his breathing uneven against my hair.

—Are you okay? —he asked.

—Better than okay —I said.

We found a small room at the end of the corridor, with a window overlooking the garden and a wide armchair where we both collapsed together.

—Tell me —I asked.

It took him a while to begin. When he did, he spoke slowly, choosing his words, while his hand was already slipping through the opening of the dress and finding my cunt slick with other people’s cum.

—They took us to the upstairs gallery —he said—. There’s a balustrade where you can see part of the right wing. Not directly where you were, but another room. I could hear the rest.

His fingers went inside me. He pulled them out soaked, brought them to his mouth, and sucked them slowly, staring at me.

—You’re full of cum —he murmured—. You can taste it.

—And? —I managed to say.

—And it was exactly what we had imagined. The difference is that imagining it, I could control it. Seeing it for real, even from far away, I couldn’t. I had to grip the railing.

—Out of jealousy?

—Out of everything. Jealousy, arousal, not knowing what to do with both at the same time. At some point I pulled my cock out there in the shadows and worked it slowly, looking down. I held back. I didn’t want to cum without you. I wanted to keep it all so I could empty it inside you when you came back.

I turned to look at him head-on, with the mask already off, and pulled down his pants zipper. He was rock hard, swollen, the tip already wet from having held out so long.

—And now?

—Now I want you for myself —he said, and he said it without drama, with that calm conviction that is so his.

I knelt between his legs and took him in my mouth without preamble. I sucked him hungry, as deep as I could, tasting what was only his after swallowing so much other cock. He grabbed my hair and moaned my name —my real one, not the invented one— and that sound opened me up inside in a way no stranger had been able to.

Then he lifted me astride him. He pulled up my dress, grabbed my ass, and guided me slowly until I took his whole cock inside me. I felt him enter, blending with what was already inside, pushing other people’s cum deeper in, staking his claim with every thrust.

—You’re mine —he murmured against my neck, biting me, leaving a mark—. You always come back. This cunt is mine even if half the world fills it.

—Always —I confirmed, riding him with all the strength I had left—. I always come back to you. Only you really fill me.

He fucked me with a different urgency than the strangers had: more anxious, more familiar, hungrier for something only he knows how to find. He sucked my tits where traces of dried cum still remained and didn’t care. He put his fingers in my mouth and made me suck them while I moved on top of him.

When he came, he did it inside me, in long hot spurts that I felt rising to my belly, and I came on top of him, squeezing his cock with all my muscles, biting his shoulder so I wouldn’t scream.

What followed was intense and brief and completely ours. No masks, no ritual, no rules. Just him claiming me and me letting myself be claimed with the same urgency.

***

In the car on the way back, with dawn already breaking and the Querétaro mountains orange on the horizon, we talked for two hours without stopping.

We talked about what we had felt, about what had surprised us, about the moments when lust and jealousy had mixed in ways we hadn’t expected. Mateo admitted that at one point he had wanted to come down from the gallery, drag me out of the middle of those hands, and fuck me in front of everyone, and that resisting that impulse had been the most intense part of the whole night for him.

I told him about the strange clarity I felt at the end, that sense of having emptied myself of something I hadn’t known I was carrying. I also told him that at the moment I was most lost, with a cock in my mouth and another in my cunt, I thought of him, and that this, far from ruining it, made it more intense. I told him how they made me ride while they licked my ass. I told him how many times I came. I told him how many times they came inside me and on me.

He listened with his hand on my thigh, squeezing harder and harder, and at some point he made me pull down the panties —which I had put on in the car— and sank his fingers into my still-sore cunt, playing with what was left inside while he drove.

—Again? —I asked at some point, my voice hoarse.

He took exactly one second.

—If it’s with you —he said—, I’ll do it all again.

We got to the hotel with the sun already high. Before sleeping, he fucked me once more, slowly, face down, with my face buried in the pillow and his body pressed completely against mine, whispering in my ear everything I had imagined that night from the gallery. He came inside for the third time and left me dripping onto the sheets.

We slept for four straight hours, tangled together, with the smell of that night still in our skin and the intimacy of having crossed something together that neither of us knew how to name but that had changed us.

When I woke up, Mateo was looking at me.

—Good morning —he said, and those two words sounded different from every other time. More real. More ours.

We didn’t talk about it again until the following week, when another black envelope slid under the door.