The Thin Walls That Made Us Fuck Like Animals
There was a time when Lucía, my girlfriend at the time, shared an apartment with a friend named Carla, who in turn was dating my best friend, Mateo. Carla was a strange woman, dyed blonde, with questionable looks but a huge cleavage she made a point of showing off like a banner. She was five years older than us, and we were around twenty-five.
Lucía had confessed that she liked Mateo and had encouraged me to bring them together. I suspect she did it because Carla kept coming on to me without a break and my girlfriend wanted to put a stop to it in the only possible way. The night Lucía and I started dating, I had first noticed Carla, but her craziness ended up weighing on me more than her charms. To make matters worse, a few months earlier we’d had a weird episode: Carla and I had been groping each other in front of Lucía, half as a joke, and we even got as far as fantasizing about a threesome that my girlfriend shut down cold at the last minute.
The whole thing had been twisted from the start. I had always felt something confusing for Mateo. We had shared a couple of dark moments, the kind where one word is enough to cross a line that can never be erased. More than once I had offered him my ass with surprising bluntness, and he’d turn red, laugh nervously, but he never took the step because he was too cowardly to admit what was written all over his face.
Of course, they didn’t know any of this. And to finish muddling the picture, I always suspected that Lucía and Carla, when we weren’t around, gave each other some long kiss and some caress that went on for too long. I have no proof, but I’d bet my life on it.
The thing was, Mateo and I usually went to the apartment together. We ordered pizza, watched a midnight movie, opened a bottle of wine, and then each went off with our girl to fuck. And this is where the important part begins: the bedrooms were wall to wall. You could hear absolutely everything.
***
Lucía had always been loud in bed, but when she knew Mateo and Carla were on the other side of the wall, she was twice as loud. She moaned louder, talked dirty at a volume that wasn’t natural, and let out lines meant to be heard. Carla was no slouch either. Between the two of them, without anyone agreeing to it, a kind of underground tournament sprang up.
If Carla moaned, Lucía moaned louder. If we heard them stop, we started again. If we were the ones who picked the pace back up, within minutes a muffled gasp on the other side let us know the war was still on. And so it went for hours.
It was strangely exciting.
I was fucking Lucía doggy-style, watching her huge ass sway with each thrust, feeling her wetness slide down my thighs, and at the same time I could hear Carla’s high voice announcing that she was coming and Mateo’s dull grunts. Both beds were creaking out of sync. It was an obscene, absurd symphony in which neither side wanted to be the first to lower the volume.
The rivalry among the four of us showed in the words. If I came in Lucía’s mouth, she would shout, “That’s it, swallow it all,” and right away on the other side Carla would say, “Come on my tits.” If one asked for more, the other raised the stakes. If one begged to be pinned to the mattress, the other demanded to be lifted into the air. That kind of thing, one after another, without rest.
Lucía liked anal sex and Carla, as far as I could tell, didn’t. That season I fucked my girlfriend in the ass four out of five nights. We did it without restraint, and she made sure whoever was on the other side knew exactly what was happening. She’d throw out lines like “fuck me in the ass, all the way” or “tear it up, don’t stop,” and I knew part of the frenzy had to do with the idea of one-upping her friend.
I also knew Mateo, hearing that, had to be dying of envy that he couldn’t try my girlfriend’s huge ass, and that probably his mind would go back to that other memory of ours, where the ass to be tried had been mine. That double current had me rock-hard and gave me fuel to keep going until dawn.
Sometimes, right in the middle of the action, I imagined Carla’s tits bouncing under Mateo’s thrusts, and the image made me fuck Lucía harder. Other times I heard my friend’s grunts and imagined his cock going in and out of Carla’s soaked cunt, and something lit up in me that I couldn’t tell if it was envy of the one doing the penetrating or the one being penetrated. Probably both in equal measure.
***
When the night was over and Mateo and I went down to the street, we threw the used condoms into a dumpster right across from the building entrance. We could have thrown them out upstairs, in the kitchen, but the ritual was set: it was a silent way of comparing notes. Almost always I’d put more in the bag than he did, and the times I didn’t manage it I’d leave annoyed, promising myself I’d be rougher next time.
On the way home we’d go over the inventory. He’d brag about Carla’s tits, I’d brag about Lucía’s ass. He’d complain that Carla never let herself be taken from behind, and I’d take the opportunity to describe how much my girlfriend enjoyed anal, in what position, at what moment. We’d work ourselves up like teenagers, both of us with our cocks hard again inside our trousers.
More than once I suggested to Mateo, without joking at all, that we should stop in some doorway and jerk each other off to take the edge off. He’d go red, stammer some excuse, and change the subject. Once I even offered to suck him off in a vacant lot, and I told him that if he just jacked me off, that would be enough. He didn’t accept. I’m sure he wanted it more than I did, but he was too stupid to admit it.
I took it for granted that when we left, the women would talk about the evening in their own way and get just as horny. But the two of them were more practical than we were and probably took care of it in silence, one on top of the other, rubbing until they came or working through a long, wet sixty-nine that left them voiceless.
***
There came a period when work schedules made it hard for the four of us to line up. When I went to see Lucía, Carla stayed alone on the other side of the wall, listening to us. I knew perfectly well she was there, ear pressed to the partition or hand between her legs, and the idea drove me crazy. I fucked Lucía with such viciousness that the next two times I could barely sit without shaking.
I imagine that on the reverse nights, when Mateo came over alone, I was the one forced into the role of spectator. I suppose Mateo made the most of it, though I’ll never know for sure.
One night I dared to suggest, half joking, that we invite Carla to join us. Lucía got angrier than I’d ever seen her, put on a righteous air, called me an idiot three times in a row, and kicked me out of the room. It was the only time that whole year I left that apartment without fucking.
***
It also happened that when the two of us were alone in the apartment, Lucía insisted we do it in Carla’s bed. Not hers. Her friend’s. After fucking like animals, I would shamelessly wipe the semen on the other woman’s sheets, and she would rub Carla’s pillow against her soaked cunt like a signature. We left everything a mess, without even straightening the bed, and went back to the living room to smoke.
It was only natural to assume Mateo and Carla did something similar when they were alone. And far from annoying me, the thought turned me on. Imagining that the sheets I rolled around on with Lucía were dirty with my friend’s cum and his girlfriend’s fluids made me look at the bed differently. It gave me an excuse to mentally invent every possible combination among the four of us.
One of those afternoons when we were alone, Lucía opened Carla’s closet and tried on her friend’s lingerie. The bras hung loose everywhere, the panties barely made it up her thighs, but she found a black lace thong that, with some effort, she managed to get on. It outlined her lips so sharply that my breath caught. I didn’t hold back. I fucked her right there, against the dresser, with the thong on, without even taking it off. To keep from coming inside her, I pulled out at the last second and ejaculated onto the duvet. That stain stayed there. And on top of it, the thong, smeared to the edges with my girlfriend’s juices.
***
I could have confessed that it excited me like few things in my life ever had. I could have suggested, in some moment of drunken clarity, that we tear down the wall once and for all and bring the four of us together in one bed, in every combination the night allowed. But before any of us dared, the friendship between Lucía and Carla broke over some stupidity I don’t even remember anymore. They moved out, each went her own way, and the war of moans died down like a radio show when the power goes out.
Soon after, my friendship with Mateo went to hell too. Not over anything important: we just stopped calling each other. It was the worst thing that could have happened. What would have been desirable was to lose the girlfriends and keep him. Instead, I lost all three at once.
Even today, years later, when I remember that apartment and those thin walls, the stereo creak of the beds and the condoms counted at dawn, I get a knot in my stomach. I think about what the four of us might have done together and what Mateo and I probably would have ended up doing if one of us had been a little braver.
And then I jerk off, quickly, in silence, so my balls don’t explode like a ripe melon in the sun.