We All Ended Up in the Same Hotel Bed

We left the party after midnight, our bodies still hot from dancing and half a bottle of rum left over in Tomás’s backpack. None of the four of us wanted the night to end. Mateo suggested we keep going somewhere quiet, Lucía insisted her apartment was too far away, and my head, dizzy and light, was only thinking about prolonging that feeling that everything was allowed.

—What if we look for a hotel? —Tomás said, lighting a cigarette on the sidewalk—. We get two rooms, pile into one, and keep drinking without anyone bothering us.

The idea seemed perfect to us, that simple. We walked a couple of blocks to one that looked discreet, with a barely lit façade and an old sign. We chose it precisely for that reason: no one was going to look twice at a group walking in with a backpack that clinked.

At reception, a middle-aged woman looked us over above her glasses. She told us there was only one room left, with a full-size bed and a bunk above it. We looked at one another, shrugged, and agreed. After all, it was just to keep the party going.

The room wasn’t so bad. Nothing special, but roomy, with a smart TV on the wall and enough space to move around. We poured the first drinks, put on music, and each couple settled into their corner: Mateo and I on the bed, Lucía and Tomás seated against the bunk.

The alcohol and the music did their work faster than we expected. We got up to dance, the four of us at first, laughing at how clumsy we were, and little by little each of us drifted toward our partner. Mateo grabbed my waist from behind and kissed my neck, and that kiss lit me up like it was the first one.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Lucía already on top of Tomás, straddling him, moving her hips slowly against him. Lucía had always had a body that drew attention: wide hips, firm thighs, small, perky breasts. Seeing her move like that, with no shame at all, gave me a jolt I couldn’t have explained.

I didn’t want to be left behind. I slid my hand over Mateo’s pants and felt him hard, so hard it made me laugh and want him at the same time. I knelt in front of him and bit him through the fabric while he held my head.

—You want to put it in your mouth, don’t you? —he said, his voice hoarse.

And I wanted a lot more than that.

When I looked up again, Lucía was taking off her blouse and Tomás was unfastening her bra with one hand. There was no agreement, no words between the two couples. We simply stopped pretending. I unbuttoned Mateo’s pants, left him in his boxers, and while I pulled my dress up he buried his face between my breasts.

He sucked my nipples with a calm that drove me crazy. He slipped one strap down, then the other, and with his free hand he started feeling over my thong. I was already soaking wet and he noticed right away.

He slid a finger inside, slowly, just to open me up. He took it out and pushed it back in, unhurried, setting a rhythm that stole my breath. I loved the way he took control, the way he made me feel that in that moment I was his and nothing else. With his other hand he grabbed one ass cheek and, without warning, slapped me.

The blow startled me. For a second I remembered we weren’t alone and I pressed myself against his chest, mortified. When I turned my head, I saw Lucía buried between the sheets of the other bed, her head sunk into Tomás’s crotch. He acted like he hadn’t seen us, until he lifted the sheet, she poked her face out, and with a wicked smile she pointed at me.

—Don’t be dirty, guys —she said, laughing helplessly—. That stuff doesn’t happen here.

The line made me burst out laughing and broke all the tension. Lucía winked at me and went back down on Tomás as if nothing had happened. That was her: capable of saying a filthy thing and a joke in the same breath.

Mateo pulled at the sheet and settled me on top of him. If Lucía was doing her thing, I wasn’t going to be any less. I kissed my way down his chest until I had him all the way in my mouth. Without realizing it, the two of us turned it into a kind of silent competition: who could give the best blow job, who could draw the loudest moan.

He let go of my hand now and then to squeeze a breast, and every time he did I got more turned on. With my free hand I started touching myself. I was dripping. I moved up and down on his cock, felt it throb against my tongue, until he grabbed the back of my neck and shoved it all the way down my throat. I pulled it out abruptly to breathe, eyes watering, and kept stroking him slowly.

When I brushed the hair from my face, I saw Lucía had mounted Tomás. She rode him with an energy that made the whole bed bounce. A new, shameless curiosity hit me. She always told me how good she was at fucking, how she drove crazy the guys she dated, and now I was seeing it live. It was like my private lessons, intensive and unfiltered.

I looked for Mateo and settled on my side, spooning, without taking my eyes off the other couple. I guided his cock to my entrance. I was so wet the tip slid in by itself, but right away I felt how much the rest cost me.

—Slowly —I asked him—. You’re too thick.

Mateo understood and eased it in little by little, centimeter by centimeter, until I felt him all the way inside. It hurt only a little, but the wetness made everything easier. He grabbed my breasts from behind, kissed my neck, and started moving. He went in and out with an even rhythm while the two of us watched the show beside us.

Lucía changed position without getting off Tomás. She ended up sitting on him, facing us, giving us a perfect view. She bit her lip while she adjusted herself, and when she caught my gaze she smiled.

—Is it good? —she asked me, with that look of someone who already knows the answer.

—Yeah… yeah —I answered breathlessly.

Mateo lifted my right leg so she could see better how he was fucking me. He hit harder, marking each thrust, and Lucía, conspiratorial, put her fingers in her mouth, got them wet, and brought her hand down to her clit without stopping her movement on Tomás. Seeing her touch herself while looking at me was one of the hottest moments of the night.

At one point Tomás stood up and Lucía got on all fours, offering herself. When he stood, he realized we were watching them and for a second he hesitated. Then he pinned me with his eyes, saw my breasts bouncing with every movement of Mateo’s, and it was obvious on his face that he wanted to devour them. The mere idea that another guy might like me while my partner was fucking me turned me on even more.

Mateo took it as a challenge. He started pounding into me harder, and our moans mixed with theirs until there was nothing else to hear in the room. “Keep going, keep going,” I kept saying without thinking. Tomás went into Lucía in one stroke, with a slap that cracked sharply, and the four of us were trapped in the same rhythm.

***

Suddenly Mateo pulled out, stood up, and lifted me in his arms. He carried me to the other bed, where they were, and left the four of us naked on the same mattress. Even now I still wonder how we ended up like that, with nobody proposing it out loud.

He laid me back and put my legs over his shoulders. Lucía, beside me, couldn’t stop smiling; she looked thrilled that this was happening. Mateo played with the tip at my entrance, slid it in a little and pulled it back out, and every time he did, my breath caught and I wanted him more.

Tomás came out of Lucía and arranged her on her side, facing me, our faces almost touching. We stayed there looking at each other, she and I, inches apart.

—How are you liking it? —she asked me softly.

—Amazing —I told her, and took her hand.

We squeezed each other’s hands tightly and, right then, Mateo drove it all the way into me in one brutal thrust. A completely sincere “oh, that feels so good” slipped out of me, and the four of us laughed without stopping our movements. Lucía let go of my hand only to reach for a breast; she was squeezing it while Tomás pounded her from the side, and Mateo, seeing that, leaned down to devour the other one.

Tomás gave Lucía faster and faster, harder and harder, until he came and spilled everything over her belly. I watched her body left flushed, gasping, with the imprint of his fingers on her hips. Far from killing the mood, that image pushed me to the edge.

Mateo lifted me and put me on all fours. Beside me, Tomás turned Lucía onto her back and she started sucking him again, still with him freshly emptied inside her. Mateo fucked me hard, harder, took me by the wrists, and each thrust sounded in the room. I moaned without restraint, with no shame left at all, while Lucía licked up with her mouth whatever was left of Tomás.

He didn’t miss a thing. His eyes were fixed on my bouncing breasts, and little by little he got hard again. He settled over Lucía’s mouth and fucked her there while she, with one hand, sought out her clit and lifted her ass asking for more. Mateo was fucking me like never before, rough sex, the kind that leaves marks.

When he was about to finish, he sped up, pulled out at the last second, and unloaded everything on my ass. I felt my sex open, throbbing, and the heat of his semen sliding down my skin. Lucía and Tomás stopped what they were doing just to watch me finish, smeared and spent.

***

The four of us were left sweaty, wrecked, and laughing our asses off. We took a break, took turns going to the bathroom, and poured the last drinks. We talked about what had happened with not a trace of shame, as if what had just taken place were the most normal thing in the world. Between jokes we promised to do it again.

The next morning we checked out of the hotel and each of us went back home. On the way, Mateo and I stopped for breakfast. Over coffee and toast, we went over the night trying to understand what had happened to us. We weren’t drunk enough not to remember; we had done it consciously, and that was what surprised us most.

We talked it over in low voices, almost guiltily at first. Tomás had always been jealous; Lucía, a nymphomaniac but not exhibitionist at all; Mateo, not jealous in the least but very possessive in bed; and me, with alcohol the only thing that had ever truly loosened me up. That the four of us had ended up like that, watching each other and letting ourselves be seen, was something none of us could explain.

The only clear thing was that the idea of being watched —and watching— had turned us on like nothing else. Is there something wrong with me for wanting this?, I even thought. But the situation repeated itself. Every time the four of us got together, one bottle was enough to wipe away the shame and we ended up in a hotel again, chasing that same current.

Over time, Mateo and I started investigating what those urges were, why we liked them so much. We searched for a name for whatever was burning us up inside. We found it almost by chance, reading in bed one dawn: the mysterious and delicious world we had unknowingly peeked into was called swinging. And with the name came all the fantasies we still had left to fulfill.