Five Gaze on Me in the Hot Springs

That April afternoon, a few days after Easter, I left home looking for silence. The tourists had already gone back to their cities, and the Las Pozas spa, half an hour from the village, promised a quiet corner. I paid my admission without running into anyone at the ticket booth and walked to the back, where the last hot spring pool steams among ferns and basalt rocks.

I was wearing a white bikini that fit my body as if it had been sewn on me. I had chosen it on purpose that morning, in front of the mirror, knowing that the afternoon sun would outline my nipples beneath the wet fabric. No one was going to be there, I kept telling myself. But something in me chose it just in case.

I swam alone for a while, letting the warmth of the water loosen my shoulders. The steam rose lazily, mixing with the sweet air of the blooming tepehuaje trees. I closed my eyes, leaning back against the tiled edge, and let the silence wrap around me.

Then came the laughter.

Five abrupt voices, the echo of backpacks hitting the ground, flip-flops dragging over the hot tile. I opened my eyes just in time to see a group of young guys, no more than seventeen or eighteen, burst into the corner I thought was mine. Three were skinny, two had a little more meat on them, all of them tan from vacation. They yanked off their T-shirts without noticing I was there, and then, as soon as they saw me, everything changed.

The silence that fell was different from the one I had been looking for. It was a charged silence, with five pairs of eyes sizing me up without even trying to hide it. I got out of the water as naturally as I could, feeling how every drop that ran down my neck, the curve of my breast, the inner part of my thigh, was followed by their eyes. I put on my sunglasses and a straw hat and stretched out on a lounger.

I pretended to sleep. But I could hear them.

—The lady is smoking hot —one of them muttered, with that barely contained voice of someone who still hasn’t learned how to whisper.

—Look how everything shows through with that wet bikini —said another.

—Shut up, she’ll hear you.

—Let her hear.

The words reached me clearly through the murmur of the water. Lying on my back, eyes closed behind dark lenses, I felt something I hadn’t expected: a wetness that had nothing to do with the bath. It was the wetness of knowing I was being watched, of being the center of five hungry gazes that traveled over every inch of my skin without my lifting a finger to defend myself. I shouldn’t like this so much, I thought. But I did.

Half an hour passed and they showed no sign of leaving. They started playing volleyball with a rubber ball, but there were five of them and they couldn’t make up the teams. I saw it coming before it happened. One of them, the tallest, the one with green eyes, timidly approached the side of my lounger.

—Excuse me, don’t you want to play with us? We’re one short.

I shook my head. He insisted. He said it would be a short game, that they were bored without even teams. He said it with that pleading teenage voice of someone who knows he’s asking for more than he’s asking for. And I, who adore volleyball and can’t say no to a ball, agreed.

***

The game didn’t last long. Every serve came to me. Every short ball forced me to jump out of the water, and every time I jumped I felt my breasts bounce inside the top, the white fabric becoming almost sheer with the water and the sun. They were no longer pretending. They stood still, watching me go up and down, watching me arch my back to reach the ball, watching me laugh when I missed. I knew it, and I kept playing.

The game turned into one of taking the ball away. I barely took part, splashing them with my hand, until suddenly the ball landed with me and all five lunged at the same time. The struggle was immediate. In the tangle of arms and water I felt hands brushing my waist “by accident,” others lingering a second too long on my thighs, others deliberately crossing the curve of my ass. One finger caught on the side tie of my bikini and tugged. Another searched for the clasp of the top at the nape of my neck and almost found it.

The adrenaline shot to my head like a slap of tequila. I hurled the ball far away, to the other end of the pool, and got out of the water with my heart racing. I walked to my lounger trying to look annoyed when really I was fleeing from myself. I sat down, grabbed the suntan lotion, and started rubbing it onto my arms so I’d have something to do with my hands.

The boldest one, Damián, he said his name was, followed me and sat on the next lounger. He tried to talk; I answered in monosyllables. When I finished my arms and legs, I lay face down on the towel and, without looking at him, asked in a thread of a voice that he rub lotion on my back.

He agreed with a smile that barely fit on his face.

His hands were warm from the sun. He ran them over my shoulders with a firmness I hadn’t expected from a boy his age, and they slid down my spine in a slow massage that made me arch. He went back up to my shoulders, my nape, my arms, pretending he was only relaxing me. But the others were watching from the water, silent, and we both knew it.

His fingers returned to my lower back. This time they didn’t stop. They traced the line of my bikini, played with the elastic edge, shifted it a few millimeters, let it go. Then he started massaging my ass in broad circles, parting it with a skill unbefitting a boy who had only just started shaving. The fabric of my bottoms slipped between them until it was like a string. I let him, my face buried in the towel, biting my lower lip.

A finger slid under the fabric and moved down. It brushed over my anus, made my whole body tingle, and kept going to my sex, already soaked. It ran up and down my entrance twice, measuring me. The third time, he pushed two fingers inside.

The moan died in my towel. Damián moved them slowly at first, parting me open inside, pulling them out to go back in, while with the other hand he kept massaging my ass as if nothing were happening. I could feel the eyes of the other four fixed on my back. I knew they saw everything and that, far from stopping me, was what was driving me on. Let them watch, I thought. Let them watch closely.

The orgasm was climbing when something, an old instinct, the fear of getting caught, made me open my eyes. I brushed Damián’s hand away with a soft slap, adjusted my bikini, and got up from the lounger like a slingshot. I threw myself back into the water on the pretext of cooling off, but there was no cooling off possible anymore.

They understood it instantly.

***

The ball reached me a few seconds later. But this time no one wanted to play. The five of them closed in around me in a circle, laughing, splashing one another, and under the water the hands started. I felt one finger tug at the knot on my right hip and then the left one. I felt another searching for the clasp of the top at the nape of my neck. In a matter of seconds, the bikini was floating away in two pieces and I was naked in a corner of the pool, surrounded by five boys who no longer had anything on either.

I could have screamed. I could have gotten out of the water and dressed with the towel. But the idea that any person might peer into the corner of the springs and see what fate was seeing was what finally melted me. I let myself go.

Damián took me by the waist and pressed me against the cold tile of the edge. I wrapped my legs around his hips and felt his cock drive in at once, without preamble, as if he’d been rehearsing it in his head for half an hour. He thrust fast, desperate, biting my neck so he wouldn’t shout. I bit his shoulder when the orgasm burst inside me and he came almost at the same time, trembling against me.

The second one didn’t wait his turn. As soon as Damián pulled away, another boy, the one with green eyes, the one from volleyball, yanked me toward him and lifted me with his thighs. He entered me with less skill but more enthusiasm, kissing my neck, whispering in my ear how hot I was, what he’d been thinking of doing to me for half an hour. It lasted less. He came with a long gasp that came from deep in his chest.

The third turned me around and made me hold on to the edge. His cock was thicker; he opened me wider, made me arch my back. He fucked me from behind, looking at my lifted ass, muttering how good I felt, how tight I was. He didn’t last long either. He came with a dry slam of his hips that made me let out a whimper.

The fourth was the tallest in the group. He waited his turn with a patience that surprised me, and when it was his, he entered from behind softly, leaving me floating facedown with my hips raised. His hands grabbed my breasts under the water while he fucked me at a rhythm that kept building. When he came, it was with a violent spasm that made me close my eyes.

The last one was the chubbier one, the fairer-skinned one. I expected him to be over in a minute too, but he surprised me. He moved behind me calmly, kissed my shoulders, stroked my back with an open palm. When he entered me, he did it slowly, listening to how my body answered. He whispered that I was beautiful, that he’d been dreaming for weeks about finding something like this. I asked him to go faster and he obeyed. But he too, being so young, came sooner than I needed. I kissed him on the cheek when he pulled out.

***

When the last one stepped away, my bikini was still floating on the other side of the pool, caught against a grate. My sex was still throbbing, two short orgasms deep and a hunger that hadn’t been filled. One of them, Damián again, the one with the skillful hands, took me by the waist and sat me on his cock, which had gone hard again. Blessed youth, I thought. I looked at him smiling and began to grind slowly against him, without penetration, keeping him right on the edge.

—Let’s get out —I whispered in his ear.

I looked one way and then the other. We were still the only ones in the back of the spa; the steam hid the pool from the rest of the world. I pushed up with my arms and got out of the water, deliberately giving them a slow view of my wet ass. I sat on the hot tile edge, opened my legs slightly, and the five of them looked up at me from below like five young wolves who still couldn’t quite believe their luck.

—Come on —I told them.

I walked naked to my lounger. One by one they climbed out of the water and followed me, leaving wet footprints on the hot tile, and gathered around the towel where I had stretched out.

But that, what happened next, is for another day.