The Wedding Night None of Them Expected

The hotel reception had that particular hush of two in the morning: the waiters were clearing away glasses with slow movements, the DJ had turned the volume down to something that was more background noise than music, and the last guests were saying their goodbyes with eyes glazed by fatigue and alcohol. Sofía had been wearing the dress since eleven in the morning. Fifteen hours inside that white silk that clung to her from the neckline to the thighs. It already felt like her own, as if her body had learned how to move in it over the course of the day, but she was also ready to take it off. Under the bodice her tits were begging for air, her nipples hard and rubbing against the lace every time she breathed, and between her thighs the silk had been damp for a while now for reasons she couldn’t quite explain.

Rodrigo was a few meters away, his tie loosened and the first button of his shirt open, trapped in a farewell conversation with his uncle from Zaragoza. Sofía watched him without his noticing and thought about how strange it was to truly love someone, how it left you calm and nervous at the same time. Then she looked toward the bar and saw Camila.

Camila was wearing a bottle-green dress with thin straps that accentuated her bronzed shoulders. She was leaning against the bar with a gin and tonic that was practically empty, not talking to anyone. Looking at Sofía. As she had been looking at her all night. Her eyes moving down her neckline without the slightest pretense, stopping at the fall of the dress at the hip, then climbing back up to her mouth. Sofía felt her cunt tighten.

Sofía looked away.

Not today. Today is my wedding.

But the thought lasted only as long as it took Camila to cross the room with that way of walking of hers, shoulders back, stride sure.

—Do you want to dance one more with me, or are you already slipping upstairs? —she asked. There was something in her voice that sounded like a joke, but not entirely.

—The DJ’s already packing up the cables.

—Then upstairs. —Camila looked toward where Rodrigo was and smiled. —Mind if I come with you for a while? I promised not to leave you alone until midnight and it’s already two.

—It’s already two —Sofía repeated.

—Exactly. I’m two hours late.

Rodrigo joined them with a glass of water nobody had asked him for, listened to Camila’s suggestion, and shrugged with an easy smile.

—As long as you bring the cava we left in the room —he said.

***

Sofía and Camila had been friends for twelve years. Since their second year of university in Salamanca, when they shared a flat near the cathedral with two other girls who left in December and left them alone with the heating bill and too much time together. They had slept in the same bed on more than one trip, had cried over the same wrong men, had shared underwear when neither of them had done the laundry. And there had been a night in Bilbao, at a mutual friend’s birthday, with too much txakoli involved, when things had pushed right to the edge without quite crossing it. They ended up in the hostel bed kissing with open mouths, Camila’s hand under Sofía’s T-shirt and her fingers squeezing her nipples until they went hard, her tongue running down her neck. They had stopped there, not out of fear but because they were tired and drunk, and the next morning neither of them said a word. They never named it afterward. It was that kind of memory you put in a box and stack other memories on top of, not to forget it, but so you don’t have to decide what to do with it.

Sofía thought about that while they waited for the elevator. She thought about Camila’s hand sliding up under her shirt, those fingers, and felt the heat between her thighs again, that new wetness soaking through her panties.

The elevator mirror gave them back the three of them together: Rodrigo tall, in the day’s rumpled suit; Camila in her green dress and that expression of hers, the one that said nothing but said everything; Sofía in the middle, in the wedding dress and her hair already loose for hours. They looked like a photograph. They looked like something that still had no name.

Nobody spoke during the four floors of the ride. But Sofía noticed Camila’s hand brush hers, a nothing-touch, and the bulge beginning to show in Rodrigo’s trousers when their eyes met in the mirror.

***

The suite smelled of fresh flowers. There were rose petals on the bed, a detail Sofía had always found a little excessive, but tonight it was the least important thing. The bottle of cava was in ice on the nightstand. Camila opened it herself, without asking, poured three glasses, and settled into the armchair by the window with her legs crossed.

—To the newlyweds —she said, lifting her glass.

They toasted. The cava was cold and dry and tasted good. Rodrigo went to the bathroom. The silence left behind between the two women was different from all the silences downstairs.

—Are you okay? —Camila asked.

—I’m married —Sofía said, and laughed at that, but it wasn’t exactly joy you could hear.

—Yeah. —Camila set her glass on the nightstand. —And what does that sound like from the inside?

—Good.

—But.

—There’s no but.

—Sofía.

The name spoken like that, with that tone, with that twelve-year familiarity, was a question without a question mark. Sofía took a moment.

—Nothing but —she said. And sat on the edge of the bed.

Camila stood from the armchair and crossed the room slowly. She sat beside her. Their thighs brushed through the fabric. Sofía didn’t move.

—Twelve years —Camila said quietly.

—I know.

—And this is the night I should least be telling you this.

—You’re not telling me anything.

—Not yet.

And then she did. Camila kissed her. A small kiss at first, almost cautious, like someone testing ice to see if it will hold. Sofía didn’t pull away. She kissed back with the same caution, and then the caution gave way to something more direct: tongues seeking each other, Camila biting her lower lip, Camila’s hands finding her waist over the dress and pulling her closer. One of those hands slid up to her breast and squeezed her tit through the silk. Sofía moaned into Camila’s mouth without being able to stop herself.

The sound of the bathroom door separated them at once.

Rodrigo stood in the doorway. Sofía waited, not quite sure what she was waiting for. Shirt half unbuttoned, belt already loose. His eyes moving from the wedding dress with the neckline askew to Camila’s hand, still not quite finished leaving her breast.

Rodrigo looked at Camila. He looked at her. He said nothing for two or three long seconds.

—I’ve been imagining this might happen for a while —he said at last.

Sofía let out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

***

What followed was slow at first. Rodrigo closed the distance to where the two women were standing and remained in front of them, hands in his trouser pockets, unhurried. There was no urgency in him. Only a question. The bulge of his cock clearly outlined beneath the dark fabric.

—What do you want? —he asked Sofía.

It was the right question. The only one that mattered tonight.

—To stay here —she said. —I want you both to fuck me.

That was enough.

Camila resumed the kiss where they had left off. This time with no interruption possible, with more certainty in her lips and her hands. She found the zipper of Sofía’s white dress at the back and pulled it down slowly, centimeter by centimeter. The lace gave way and Sofía felt the room’s cold air on her skin. The dress slid to the floor with a whisper. She stood in the middle of the room in white lace panties, tits bare, nipples pointing hard toward the window.

Camila just stared at them.

—Fuck —she said, very softly. —Twelve years imagining these tits.

And she lowered her mouth. She took one nipple between her lips and sucked it slowly, bit it, let it go, then moved to the other. Sofía felt the hot tongue circling the nipple, the teeth barely marking it, and a jolt that went straight down to her cunt. Her legs opened on their own.

Rodrigo had sat in the desk chair and was watching them. Not from a distance, but with the attention of someone who is inside something even if he hasn’t yet put his hands on it. He had opened his trousers and taken his cock out, thick, hard, in his fist. He stroked it slowly, unhurried, watching Camila eat his wife’s tits.

Sofía noticed even without looking directly at him. Camila didn’t look at him either. She was busy with other things: with Sofía’s neck, with her shoulders, with the line of her collarbones, with the hand she had already slipped inside the lace panties.

—You’re soaked —Camila said against her skin.

—I know.

—Twelve years —she repeated against Sofía’s neck. This time it was not a reproach. It was something else entirely. Her fingers parted Sofía’s folds and found her clit. Sofía grabbed her shoulders so she wouldn’t fall.

—Eat me out —she told her. And didn’t recognize her own voice.

Camila knelt in front of her without taking her eyes off her. She pulled the panties down Sofía’s thighs and let them fall to the floor. Sofía stood completely naked in the center of the bridal suite, with her husband watching from the chair, cock in hand, and her best friend kneeling between her legs. Camila parted Sofía’s cunt lips with her fingers and ran her tongue all the way from bottom to top, slow, ending in a wet kiss over the clit.

Sofía moaned loudly.

—Like that, like that —she said. —Don’t stop.

Camila did not stop. She licked Sofía’s cunt with twelve years of delayed hunger, hands gripping her thighs to keep her standing, tongue sliding in and out, climbing back to the clit to circle it and then dropping down again. Sofía held onto Camila’s head with one hand and the corner of the headboard with the other. She looked toward the chair and saw Rodrigo slowly stroking himself, never taking his eyes off them, the tip of his cock already shining.

—Come here —Sofía told him. —Come here.

They moved to the bed.

***

Camila took off the green dress naturally, without posing. Sofía watched her and thought she was exactly as she had imagined her in the few moments she had allowed herself to imagine her: without artifice, with nothing that wasn’t herself. Smaller tits than hers, firm, with dark nipples. Her cunt shaved, already shiny with arousal. Rodrigo took off his suit too while the two women watched each other, and his presence at the foot of the bed, cock hard and pointing to the ceiling, was that of someone who knows he is part of something without needing to prove it.

What came after was messy in the best possible way. No choreography, no turns established in advance. Camila climbed onto the bed and kissed Sofía for a long while while Rodrigo watched them with his back against the headboard, his hard cock in his hand. Sofía could taste her own cunt in Camila’s mouth and didn’t think it was bad; it felt exactly like what she should be feeling that night.

Then it was Rodrigo who drew Sofía toward him. He brought her face to his cock and she took it in her hand and into her mouth. She sucked it all, eagerly, her tongue circling the head and sliding down the shaft. Rodrigo moaned and put a hand on the back of her neck, not pushing, just guiding. Camila watched them from the side, sitting with her knees drawn up, waiting with a patience uncharacteristic of her and one hand between her own legs.

—Come closer —Sofía told Camila, Rodrigo’s cock still in her mouth. —Come here. Eat her while I suck him.

And Camila came closer. She positioned herself behind Sofía, spread her legs, and buried her tongue in her cunt from behind. Sofía had her husband’s cock in her mouth and her friend’s tongue in her cunt and there was no way to know which pleasure was greater. She sucked Rodrigo faster and faster, saliva dripping down her chin, while at the same time she pushed her ass back against Camila’s face.

—Fuck —Rodrigo murmured—. Fuck, my love, like that.

The rhythm the three of them found was built in real time, guided by what each one asked for without words or allowed the others to read in their body. Sofía got on all fours and Rodrigo got behind her. He shoved his cock into her cunt in one go, with no foreplay now, and Sofía felt herself filled completely, felt him pushing all the way to the back. She moaned loudly. Camila had gotten in front of her, lying on her back with her legs open, offering her cunt for Sofía to eat.

Sofía lowered her head and put her tongue in. Camila was soaked, her cunt lips swollen. She tasted sweet and salty at once. Sofía sucked her clit while her husband fucked her from behind, his thrusts pushing her face against Camila’s cunt. The three of them breathed with the same rising urgency, and the sounds coming from their mouths were less and less words and more moans.

—Keep going, keep going, keep going —Camila panted, with her hands buried in Sofía’s hair—. Push it in deeper.

Sofía slipped two fingers into her cunt while still sucking her clit. Camila clenched her thighs around her head. Rodrigo fucked her harder and harder, gripping her hips with both hands, his cock sliding in and out of Sofía’s cunt with a wet slap that filled the room.

The white sheets were soon in disarray, the rose petals mixed among the folds in a way that could no longer be undone. Sofía felt the orgasm start to rise and had to pull her mouth away from Camila’s cunt so she wouldn’t come too soon.

—Wait —she said. —Wait, I don’t want it to end yet.

They changed positions. Camila lay back and Sofía positioned herself on top, sixty-nine, her cunt in Camila’s mouth and her face between Camila’s legs. Rodrigo knelt beside them and passed his cock from one mouth to the other. Sofía sucked the cock that had just been inside her friend’s cunt a moment ago. Camila did the same. They passed his cock between them, sucking it in turns, and sometimes the two tongues met at the tip and kissed with Rodrigo’s cock between them.

—I’m going to come —Rodrigo said—. Fuck, I’m going to come like this.

—Not yet —Sofía said. —Fuck her. Fuck her instead.

Camila opened her eyes, surprised for a second. Then she lay back and spread her legs. Rodrigo looked at Sofía. Sofía nodded. He pushed his cock into Camila slowly, all the way in at once, and Camila moaned in a way Sofía had never heard from her before. Sofía sat astride Camila’s face, offering her cunt, and Camila ate her out while Rodrigo fucked her.

Twelve years of contained curiosity. Tonight there was no reason to keep containing it. He found her exactly as she had imagined, and the sounds Camila made beneath Sofía’s cunt were so genuine that Sofía felt something loosen in her chest. Rodrigo found his natural place behind Camila, his cock going in and out faster and faster, and the three of them were linked in a way that would have seemed improbable an hour earlier, when they had all been toasting with their glasses in hand and the space between them still had the distance of what had not been said.

The sounds that filled the room were concrete and close: quickened breathing, the wet friction of skin, the shifting weight on the mattress, the slap of Rodrigo’s cock entering Camila’s cunt, Camila’s tongue licking Sofía’s clit. The city was still asleep on the other side of the glass. The world had not noticed a thing.

Sofía felt something in her give way. She didn’t know how to name it. Maybe it was the whole day piled onto her shoulders, maybe the twelve years, maybe both of those things together and a few others she didn’t want to think about now.

Camila came first. She came with Rodrigo’s cock inside her and her tongue trapped against Sofía’s cunt, with her thighs clenched around his hips and a deep, short sound vibrating against Sofía’s clit. Sofía felt Camila’s cunt contract because she noticed it in Rodrigo’s cock, in the way he had to clench his teeth not to come right then.

—Now me —Sofía said. —Come with me.

Rodrigo pulled out of Camila’s cunt and positioned himself behind Sofía. He shoved his cock into her again, wet from her friend’s cunt, and started fucking her hard. Sofía bent down and kept kissing Camila on the mouth, tongues mingling, and Camila grabbed her tits with both hands and squeezed her nipples between her fingers.

—Come, come —Camila panted—. I want to see you come.

Sofía came with Rodrigo’s thrusts getting faster and faster behind her and Camila kissing her on the mouth in front, one hand on her tit and the other on her clit, and all that convergence was too much to stay still. She came screaming into Camila’s mouth, trembling all over. Rodrigo followed a few seconds later, his forehead pressed to Sofía’s back and his hands gripping her hips, coming inside her with shorter and deeper thrusts.

The three of them stayed like that for a moment, trapped in position, breathing hard. Sofía felt the hot semen slide inside her. Camila moved and ran her fingers between Sofía’s legs, gathering up what was dripping out, and brought it to her mouth without taking her eyes off hers.

—Fuck —Sofía murmured.

—Yeah —Camila said. —Fuck.

***

They lay there without speaking for a long while. The bedside lamp was still on. Sofía in the middle, Rodrigo on her right with his arm over her waist, Camila on her left with her eyes closed. The bottle of cava was half empty on the nightstand. They hadn’t touched it again.

—Are you okay? —Rodrigo asked.

Sofía considered the question. It was the same one Camila had asked her before everything started, but with an entirely different inflection.

—Yes —she said.

And it was true. Not the automatic yes of someone answering to reassure another person. The concrete yes of someone who had just done something she wanted to do and until a few hours ago hadn’t fully known it.

Camila opened her eyes.

—I should go —she said, not moving.

—Stay —Rodrigo said.

Camila looked at him. She sized him up with that direct way of hers.

—You sure?

—Tonight, yes —he said. —Everything else, we’ll see tomorrow.

Sofía didn’t say anything. She closed her eyes. Outside, the edge of the sky was beginning to brighten on the horizon, that dark blue that precedes dawn before anyone in the city has noticed it yet. The streetlights glowed still and steady through the glass.

The rose petals had been left scattered among the sheets, impossible to recover now.

It was the most unexpected ending Sofía could have imagined for her wedding day. And perhaps, she thought as sleep slowly covered her, the most honest beginning anyone could wish her.