What Goes Unsaid

This is not a cuck story. I've seen this "warning" on other stories.

So if "cheating" (not cuck) is not your thing, this story is not for you.

This is also based on true events. I changed names, nationalities, cities, number of people involved to spice things up--but yes, it's rooted in reality.

------

Rome

Sunday

Naked, I open the door to the room where I'd heard the moans, to see my friend riding one of the Italians, while the other pulls her hair hard, sodomizing her.

As I stand there, mesmerized, the third man approaches from behind me, also naked, fully erect. I still crave more.

-- TWO DAYS EARLIER --

Friederike

Rome -- Rione Monti

Friday -- 6:12 p. m.

Kadri, absorbed in her phone, ignored me when I asked her if we were close to the restaurant she kept calling "a hidden gem".

--KADRI! --I shouted.

--We're almost there --she answered, eyes still on her screen.

--You've been saying that for over an hour.

Kadri let out a short, dry laugh.

We kept walking.

Her ignoring me reminded me of how my own children ignore me: when I tell them not to scream, not to fight, just to give me five minutes...

Like how I keep telling Javier we need help. He tries, with his practical ways, always trying to lighten my load... but it never really changes how I feel.

Sometimes I just want to disappear, though I don't know if he could steer the ship on his own.

--Invisible here, needed there --I muttered.

Kadri looked up from her phone.

--Sorry?

--We've been walking for hours. I'm just hungry. Do you really think it's worth it?

She stared at me for a moment. She had heard me earlier--her face said enough. Then she said:

--I don't know if I want to go back on Sunday.

--To Berlin?

--To everything.

I sighed. I got it. But I didn't have the energy to get into it.

--What if we skip the restaurant and just go to the hotel? --I suggested.

--Already found it --she said, stepping off the curb to cross the street.

I watched her for a few seconds.

She was wearing a rust-colored blouse that clung to the small of her back with sweat, and tight pants that traced the curve of her hips. She wasn't wearing a bra--something I'd never dare to do--and I envied her confidence. She'd just cut her hair before the trip, light brown and cropped just above the jawline, with a side fringe that fell forward whenever she bent her head to check her phone.

She had that Nordic skin that doesn't tan, just turns a soft red. And yet, in Rome, she looked more natural than I did. I'd always thought Kadri was more beautiful than she realized.

She wouldn't wait for me, so I crossed the street to follow.

Friederike

Rome -- Via del Boschetto

Friday -- 6:26 p. m.

The shop sign was barely visible--cursive letters faded by the sun. Hard to read, but the name and location matched the map.

--Is this it? --I asked.

--I think so --Kadri replied, pushing the door open.

Inside, the air was cooler, though it smelled of oil, garlic, and something sweet and sour.

The place felt like a mix between a local deli--with shelves lining the walls--and a takeaway counter. Judging by the people inside, it really did look like a hidden gem. Behind the counter was an older man, shirt unbuttoned, engrossed in his phone.

He didn't even look up when Kadri asked:

--Excuse me, is this Trattoria delle Due Frecce?

The man replied without lifting his eyes:

--No inglese. No turisti.

Kadri frowned and tried again, showing him her map.

--Just... this place? It says right here.

He waved his hand, as if swatting a fly.

--Dietro. Porta dietro --he grunted.

--What did he say? --I whispered.

--Something about a "back door," I think... rather rudely --Kadri answered.

--I noticed.

I was about to snap at the guy, when a woman's voice spoke up behind us.

--Scusi, stanno solo cercando il ristorante, va bene? --she told the man, firm but not harsh.

We turned to see a woman carrying a cardboard box with two bottles of wine.

Blonde, maybe mid-twenties, wearing a sleeveless white dress and flat sandals. She had an effortless vibe and radiated self-confidence.

The man grunted and returned to his phone.

The woman turned to us.

--The entrance to the trattoria is out to the right, through a little alley. The names are almost identical, so it's easy to mix them up.

--Thank you so much --I said.

--No problem. Rome is like that. You have to fight for some things, but not take it personally. The restaurant's quite good--I recommend it.

She smiled in a way that made you smile back, then gripped the box with both hands and left before we could reply.

We watched her cross the street.

--She had a great vibe --Kadri said.

--Something tells me she wasn't Italian --I joked.

--But see? I told you the place would be good --Kadri said as she stepped through the door.

With nothing else to do--and starving--I followed her.

Friederike

Rome -- Esquilino, Hotel

Friday -- 11:12 p. m.

Kadri lay stretched out on the bedspread, wine glass in hand. We had the windows open, and "the eternal city" still buzzed softly with a summer night's hum. I'd taken off my bra and was wearing just an old sleep shirt that made me feel a little more free in my own skin.

--My will is more ambitious than my feet --Kadri remarked.

--But here, at least, we can rest without background screams --I said, flexing my ankles. --Here you can stay in bed in the morning without worrying about breakfast, or wondering if someone wet the bed.

She didn't respond, just nodded.

--It's different. Here, my feet hurt. There... the days hurt. It all piles up: the children, Javier, the house, the children, the mental load, THE CHILDREN. I feel like if I stop moving, everything falls apart.

--I know. You've been like this since your third child was born.

--And still, we ended up having a fourth.

Kadri took a sip from her glass.

--Do you feel like Javier doesn't listen to you?

--He listens... but at the same time, he doesn't. It's like we understand different things. He forgets things that matter to me. The pressure's a lot for both of us.

--And the sex?

I laughed, but it came out dry.

--He'd be happy having sex every day, but I can't relax when there are things to be done. Doesn't help that I don't feel desired anymore. He masturbates too much.

--I get it. With Rico... things are hard too. We barely see each other, and when we do, he's all tenderness and sweet words, but there's this coldness--not physical, not at first.

More like... he can't stay. Like he doesn't want to choose me.

--And do you want him to choose you?

Kadri shrugged.

--I don't know. Sometimes I want him to leave and stop confusing me. Other times I want him to hold me tight and tell me I'm his one certainty.

--Have you thought about being the one to leave?

--Sometimes.

I refilled my glass. The wine was warm now.

--Do you feel desired? --I asked.

--No. I feel... evaluated. Like he's deciding whether I'm worth it long-term.

--Do you think you're worth it?

Kadri looked at me with that expression she uses when she doesn't want to say yes, but can't bring herself to say no.

--I'm not sure. Sometimes I feel like a copy of my "real self," if that makes sense. Something similar, but slower, duller, less bright.

--My words coming out of your mouth --I said. --No wonder we're friends.

Kadri let out a real laugh and looked me in the eyes.

--Sometimes I can't even stand myself, but you're always there for me --she said. --You always put up with me.

--And you always listen. Only with you do I feel free of judgment --I replied.

--The wine's catching up with us.

We laughed together, finally and fully.

--One more glass? --I asked.

--One more day --she corrected. --Let's make tomorrow count.

Kadri

Rome -- MAXXI Gallery Café

Saturday -- 4:32 PM

After walking through the MAXXI museum, we headed into the adjoining café to rest. We'd taken our time through the galleries--something we both loved. We hadn't spoken much, wrapped and shielded in a mutual silence.

Friederike ordered a double espresso. I felt like our last day deserved a glass of white wine.

--Are you ready to go back to Berlin? --she asked, finally breaking the silence, her hand around her cup.

--Not really. But the struggles will follow me, whether I'm here or there. --I smiled, a little late.

She raised an eyebrow. --Are we talking about Rico? --

--I honestly don't know, --I answered. She didn't reply. I sighed. --Sorry, I'm just upset. It's our last day--I don't want to ruin it. --

The café was half empty. A few tourists, two old men playing chess, and a couple in the back laughing. She was blonde, in a white dress, her long legs resting over an empty chair. He was tall, dark-haired, well-dressed, shirt open to the third button. They both looked striking.

--Isn't that...? -- I began.

Friederike turned to look.

--It's her--the heroine from yesterday. --

When she recognized us, she smiled with her whole face--eyes included. Wide and contagious. Like she'd been waiting for us. Or maybe she always smiled like that.

--Hey! -- she called out, raising her hand. --The beautiful ladies from yesterday! --

We laughed. She stood up and walked toward us.

--How was Trattoria delle Due Frecce? --

--It was fantastic--the food, even more so, --I said.

--Thanks again for your help yesterday, --Friederike added. "We really wanted to thank you properly."

--You can thank me by joining us today, --Claire said, gesturing to her table. I noticed the tiniest hint of hesitation from Friederike, but she was the one who answered:

--We'd love to. --

As we started walking over, I asked, --Do you live in Rome? --

--Yes, for about three years now. --

--Where are you from? --Friederike asked.

--I'm American, actually. What about you? --

We told her I was from Estonia and Friederike was from the Netherlands, though we both lived in Berlin.

When we got to the table, she introduced us to the man sitting with her.

--This is Marcello--my partner. Well, sometimes. What matters is he has great taste in wine and friends. And yes, he's Italian.--

Marcello stood and offered his hand. Long fingers. Firm grip.

--He doesn't bite, --Claire added with a sly smile. --unless you ask nicely.--

I couldn't tell if it was a joke or something in between.

We sat down. My impression of Marcello was that he didn't speak much, but when he did, his voice was low, deep, and he actually contributed to the conversation. He had a quiet presence--commanding without effort. He seemed younger than us. So did Claire.

They had that energy you only see in people who carry a spark inside--who face life's messiness like it's all an adventure.

We talked for over an hour and it felt like a breath of fresh air. They were passionate, curious, light. They made me feel a little younger. A little freer. A bit like the person I used to be ten years ago--and reminded me of the people I used to know, too. When did things change?

I'm sure Friederike felt a similar nostalgia; ten years ago, we were different.

--We'll have to head out soon, --Claire said after a while. --but we're meeting some friends at a bar around 9. In Trastevere--local place, good music, great gin. You should come.--

--We haven't packed yet,-- Friederike said with a tired smile. -- and our flight's early tomorrow.--

--It's your last night in Rome? More reason to come. I promise you'll have fun. I'd really love to keep talking. --

--Maybe just for a couple hours, --I said, looking at Friederike.

She shrugged.

--Maybe we'll stop by, -- she murmured.

Claire gave us the name of the bar, the address, directions--didn't even write it down. Said it like she knew we'd remember.

Soon after, they stood up and we said our goodbyes.

We watched them walk away.

Friederike said nothing.

Neither did I--but I had a feeling I'd end up convincing her later. She would acquiesce.

Kadri

Rome -- Small supermarket near the hotel

Saturday -- 7:07 PM

We stepped into the small supermarket near the hotel. Friederike was insistent on getting things ready for tomorrow: bottles of water, snacks, protein bars.

--Because we won't have time later --she said.

She seemed apathetic. The sluggish way she moved through the aisles, the passivity with which she picked things up -- it was obvious she had no real enthusiasm about going out later with Claire and Marcello, even if she wouldn't admit it. I knew her well.

--We can go just for a couple of hours --I told her. --But we need to hurry.

--I haven't packed, I'm tired, and I promised I'd catch up with Javier later.

--Come on, Friedy. I wouldn't be pushing this under different circumstances. Besides, I feel like deep down, you want to go too. Didn't you feel something when we talked to them? When was the last time you felt like that?

She looked at me, her eyes locking with mine, holding a feeling I could recognize.

--Yes, I felt it --she said, lowering her voice as if admitting it was difficult. --But I'm tired. I don't know if I have the energy to go out. We're not in our twenties anymore. And besides, I...

--Are you tired, or is it something else? --I cut her off.

--You can go alone --she said, dodging the question. --That way you can stay out as long as you want, and I could pack for you. You can tell me all about it tomor--

--How many times do you actually remember packing well? We've gone on so many trips, but do you remember the journey back from any of them? --I interrupted her again.

She looked at me, slightly irritated by the interruption.

--But do you remember that night in Reykjavík? You wanted to stay out and I didn't let you go alone. We ended up in some suite, invited to a party by people we didn't even know. You threw up all over the bathroom and we ran out together. Or what about when I followed you onto that boat with the Greek guys in Thessaloniki?

Her eyes lit up and a smile began to form on her lips.

--If I remember correctly, you had a pretty good time with Giorgos.

--You and Sparos were the first to go fuck! Or, as he said, "show you the boat." What was I supposed to do? Talk about the weather? --she replied.

--His name was Spyros. But that's not the point. What I'm trying to say is that those are the memories that stick with us... and we don't have nights like that anymore. For a moment today, earlier, I felt lighter--this intensity I barely recognized. I know you felt it too.

She looked at me, processing what I was saying.

--And the other thing I mean to say is--we're a team, a duo. Those memories are better because we have someone to share them with. I want to go... but with you.

She was quiet for a few seconds, took a deep breath, rubbed her forehead.

--Just a couple of hours --she said finally.

I smiled. I couldn't help myself. I hugged her--she didn't pull away.

--A couple of hours --she repeated. --I hope it's worth it.

We paid for our things and stepped out of the supermarket. Night was falling over Rome with a soft, golden light.

It was going to be worth it.

Kadri

Rome -- Hotel Room

Saturday -- 8:38 PM

I was already dressed to go out, but a chat with Rico turned into a fight. His last message, before ghosting me, read:

> "At least pretend to care. You disappear. Same as always."

That accusatory tone. That emotionally manipulative voice--written but distinctly his. It wasn't the first time, that colombian asshole!

--What a fucking idiot, I said, standing up abruptly.

Friederike, seated on the bed, looked up from her call.

--Hold on a sec, Javier, she told her husband, muting her mic. --Kadri, everything okay?

--Rico's an asshole, I snapped.

Friederike continued the call as I grabbed my things and headed for the bathroom.

--... I can barely hear you. The kids are yelling again.

...

--Yeah, I know. But just for a bit--Kadri really wants to go out.

...

--No, no need to call later. I'll text if anything happens.

...

--Yes, they should be in bed by now anyway.

I closed the bathroom door behind me--for both our privacy.

I stared at my reflection in the mirror.

Light blouse, simple skirt. Appropriate. Neutral. A touch of makeup. Loose hair. Bare lips.

--That idiot, I told the mirror.

I opened my already-packed suitcase and dug for something I'd brought but hadn't touched.

The black dress.

Tight. Low-cut. Bare back.

I'd taken it on several trips--hadn't worn it in years.

I undressed quickly. The dress hugged my waist, gripped my hips.

I looked in the mirror and started adding a little more makeup.

What was I doing?

I felt a teenage kind of nervous. Because of Claire? Because of Marcello?

--I'm too old for this, I told my reflection while I kept applying mascara.

--

When I came out of the bathroom, Friederike looked impressed by my outfit and glanced up, ready to listen.

I looked back at her.

Friederike was beautiful.

I know we say that about people we love--but she really was.

There was something effortless about it. Her beauty clashed with her desire to stay unnoticed.

Fair, soft skin with a naturally fresh tone; big warm brown eyes, deep without trying; dark brown straight hair falling over her shoulders; no heavy makeup or jewelry other than her wedding ring and our friendship rings.

Just a light white linen blouse and sand-colored pants.

Nothing clung to her body, but everything hinted at it--you'd never guess she had four children.

--All good? Rico's an idiot, huh? she asked, snapping me out of it.

--Let's not talk about him. We're gonna be late. Shall we?

--Just for a couple of hours, she replied.

Then added, --And by the way, you look incredible in that dress.

Friederike

Rome -- Bar in Trastevere

Saturday -- 9:19 PM

We walked in not really knowing what to expect. The bar was full but not crowded. Definitely a local spot--with soul, personality, and its own rhythm. I had to admit--I liked it.

Kadri walked ahead--determined. I knew her well enough to realize she was excited about being here. As she moved, I noticed people turning to look at her.

This time, we spotted them first:

Claire--radiant as ever--seated next to Marcello, laughing and chatting with two other men. They all looked younger than us, but not by much.

One--tanned, dark-haired, short beard, wide smile--looked mid-joke. The other--lighter skin, expressive eyes, black shirt--seemed less amused.

Claire saw us and stood up with energy. Hugged us like we were old friends--confident and warm.

--You two look stunning, she said, giving Kadri a once-over. --You look amazing in that dress.

She introduced everyone quickly but efficiently. The darker one was Sandro, the one in the black shirt was Paolo.

They made room by joining two tables.

Kadri sat between Claire and Sandro.

I ended up next to Paolo and Sandro, across from Claire.

I glanced at Paolo. He nodded slightly and gave a subtle smile.

Claire ordered shots for everyone before we were even fully seated--plus two Moscow Mules, one for me and one for Kadri.

--To new friends, she said, raising her glass. --And let's hope they don't leave early.

I started to object, but Kadri gave me a look--not tonight.

The shots arrived quickly. Kadri took hers with enthusiasm. I did not.

--Not a fan of shots? Paolo asked.

--Does anyone actually enjoy these? I replied.

Our cocktails came soon after.

--Maybe the Moscow Mule is more your thing? he asked.

I took a sip. I liked it--but it was stronger than it looked. I had to close my eyes for a second.

The group started to split. Sandro chatted with Kadri. I ended up mostly talking to Paolo. Claire floated between us all.

I listened more than I spoke, sipping slowly, until I found myself opening up to Paolo. He asked about my family, my kids--not out of pity or judgment, just quiet curiosity. I was surprised by how much I shared--not because he was particularly persuasive, though he listened well, but because he didn't look at me like a mother, or a tourist, or a woman ten or fifteen years older than him. He looked at me like a whole person--even if I didn't feel like one.

--And time for yourself? Do you ever find it? he asked gently.

--I'm in Rome, aren't I? I answered.

He smiled wide. --And I'm glad you are--so we could meet.

As the night went on, I saw Kadri laughing with Sandro, touching his arm. They were clearly in their own world, and that was fine. Her shoulders were relaxed. Her laughter was easy.

I watched her from the corner of my eye. I wanted her to enjoy herself.

--Rico's an idiot, I thought.

Kadri was finishing her second drink as I checked the time: 10:26 PM.

I leaned in and said in her ear, --Maybe it's time to go. We've got an early flight.

She looked at me--there was something different in her eyes.

--We said a couple hours, right? It's only been one. Plus, look what Claire brought.

I turned--and Claire had two drinks in hand. Set them down in front of us.

How did this woman know I liked Moscow Mules?

I was having a good time. The alcohol was softening my edges. Maybe Kadri was right.

She was glowing.

And Claire came over with those huge eyes--her vibe was like a drug I didn't want to quit.

Besides, I didn't want to go back to the hotel just to hear another voice note from Javier about how the kids wouldn't go to sleep.

I nodded.

--

I was actually having a good time, chatting with Paolo about topics I'm passionate about--and he made me feel heard. He really made me feel heard. I was getting a little lost in his eyes.

It was then that Sandro, Kadri, and Claire started talking about going to a second bar--a "secret bar."

I checked the time: 11:40 PM.

Kadri begged me to come along, said she didn't want to go alone, and by then I was drunk enough to ignore how hard it would be to wake up the next morning.

I think if I hadn't been enjoying myself, I would've put up more resistance.

But I liked talking to Paolo, and with Claire.

Kadri was laughing in a way she hadn't in years.

Rico's an asshole, so I'll turn a blind eye if she kisses Sandro.

I looked at Kadri and reminded her:

--Our flight's at nine.

--I know --she answered. --We're getting on that plane hungover and wrecked.

Friederike

Rome -- Streets of Rome

Saturday -- 11:56 PM

As we walked, I realized I was already drunk; I couldn't walk straight.

Marcello was walking ahead; I was in the middle, flanked by Claire and Paolo. Behind us came Kadri and Sandro.

--How much longer to this "secret bar"? --I asked, trying to sound sarcastic.

Claire replied:

--Three corners, a river and half a drink.

I could hear Kadri laughing with Sandro behind us. When I turned to look, I saw how they used any excuse to touch--arm, shoulder, hip. At one moment, I thought I heard a kiss, but I didn't turn around.

When we were crossing the Tiber, Claire started digging through her purse and pulled out two small capsules.

--I already took one earlier, want one? --she offered to Kadri and me.

I was surprised how quickly Kadri took hers without asking a single thing.

--What is that? --I asked.

--Something like MDMA, helps you have a good time --Claire said. --I promise.

I looked at her, skeptical.

--You don't have to take it. Keep it if you want --she added, taking my hand and placing the pill in my palm. --Take it to Berlin if you'd rather.

I stared at it for a moment, then slipped it into my pants pocket.

Paolo leaned in and said:

--You don't have to take it if you don't want to, don't feel pressured--though it's harmless.

It reassured me that he validated my hesitation.

One more hour. One more hour and I'd drag Kadri back to the hotel.

Friederike

Rome -- Secret Bar

Sunday -- 12:26 AM

I was starting to lose control. I couldn't remember things clearly or piece sequences together. I'm not sure when we arrived--I didn't remember the moment we entered.

The secret bar was a basement with dim lighting and red lights. People danced on the floor--just silhouettes and shadows. A bar on one end, a DJ on the other, a few sofas in the back.

And heat--the heat, the humidity, the closeness of bodies.

We sat on the couches, and I vaguely remember two rounds of shots. Then a beer appeared in my hand--I don't remember if I bought it or someone else did. At some point, we wanted to dance. Even I did.

Kadri went out to dance with Sandro, and I think I went out with Paolo.

I don't remember when I stopped seeing Claire. Marcello also disappeared--and wouldn't reappear... until later.

On the dance floor, I think Paolo was nearby--but I'm not sure. I just wanted to move, and keep an eye on Kadri. She and Sandro were moving like they were alone.

Kadri leaning her back into Sandro, his hands on her hips, her thighs, kissing her neck.

She closed her eyes, laughed, ran her fingers through his hair.

She looked like someone else.

I kept dancing, and as soon as I finished my beer, I went to get another one--glancing toward the sofas where we had arrived. A wave of panic hit me when I didn't see anyone. My chest was pounding.

I got up again to look for Kadri, for Paolo, for Sandro... I couldn't find anyone.

I scanned the sides. Nothing.

I headed toward the bathroom hallway--one couple was making out against the wall, another was laughing. I opened a few bathroom doors--no luck.

I kept looking, and at the end of the hallway was a door, slightly ajar.

I crossed through it and turned a corner.

And there they were.

In a hallway, Kadri was on her knees, Sandro's cock in her mouth, her hands behind her back in submission.

Sandro's brow was furrowed, body tense, one hand caressing her hair.

I don't know how long I stood there--but neither of them saw me.

I froze, not knowing what to do... and then, a warmth started between my legs, spreading through my body. It wasn't just shock--was it curiosity? Envy?

It was... thirst.

Someone was behind me.

Without being startled, I turned my head. It was Paolo--somehow, I already knew it was him. He was watching them too.

He took my waist and pressed his body against mine. We looked into each other's eyes.

I held his gaze--challenging him.

Then... he kissed me.

Slow. Certain.

I kissed him back.

For a few seconds, I did.

His hand slid down my waist, my hip, grabbing one of my ass cheeks with an open palm, pulling me closer--so I could feel his erection.

I pushed him away gently. Lowered my eyes.

I fled to the bathroom.

Friederike

Rome -- Secret Bar's Bathroom

Sunday -- 01:07 AM

A red light lit the small unisex bathroom I had stepped into. I turned on the tap and let the water run, while the door vibrated with the bass of the music outside.

I splashed water all over my face, leaned against the sink, and stared at my reflection, trying to pull myself together. A voice echoed in my head.

My eyes... darker than usual.

"You shouldn't be here."

I thought of Javier, of my kids.

I shouldn't be doing this.

"You're a married woman."

And then, the image of Kadri on her knees flashed into my mind--and it burned.

Paolo's kiss, which I didn't want to stop.

"You love your husband. He's a good man."

I kept splashing water on my face, trying to control my breathing--but the thirst wouldn't go away.

"You deserve a night like this."

The desire kept rising.

"Paolo wants you."

I reached into my pocket and felt something.

"You want him."

The pill Claire gave me.

"You want to feel something."

I turned off the water and opened the door.

"No one will know back in Berlin."

Paolo was waiting for me outside.

My body begged me to give in to this Italian.

When I saw him, I took the pill without thinking and swallowed it with another sip of water.

I closed the door behind me.

Paolo was waiting.

--Kadri? --I asked.

--She already left with Sandro, to an apartment nearby.

I walked up and kissed him--a long, hungry kiss. I grabbed him with both hands.

After the kiss, I said:

--Is there a place for us? In the apartment?

He nodded, took my hand, and we headed for the exit.

Friederike

Rome -- An Apartment in Rome

Sunday -- 01:32

I don't remember anything from the way there. I remember us kissing the moment we stepped inside the building. He slid his hands under my shirt while I slipped mine into his pants, finally stroking his cock. I was ready to get on my knees when he took my hand and led me up the stairs. Everything was a blur.

What I do remember clearly is the moment Marcello opened the door to the apartment. I saw him smile widely for the first time. We walked through a short hallway into a wide, messy living room. Cushions, clothes, empty glasses.

Kadri was on her knees, giving Sandro a blowjob as he sat on a couch. Her breasts already exposed, the top of her dress down at her waist. She looked at me and smiled, like she was happy I had arrived.

Marcello sat on a chair near a table, smoking and drinking, enjoying the show...

Kadri didn't care about being watched... and I realized that, in this moment, neither did I.

I felt Paolo behind me, the heat of his body pressing against mine, the magnetism of his hard cock at my back.

--Are you sure you want to stay? --he asked me.

I looked at him, then at Kadri. She had stopped sucking Sandro and was waiting to see what I'd do.

I took off my shoes, knelt before Paolo, and unzipped his pants.

Kadri

Rome -- An Apartment in Rome

Sunday -- 08:23

I woke up with a drum pounding in my head, a sharp pain. From my dreams, I could still hear a rhythmic sound--slapping, moaning, the sounds of bodies sucking, of skin colliding. The sounds of sex.

I was nauseated and sore all over: legs, abdomen, arms, breasts... my sex.

Between my thighs, I felt a warm mix of burning and emptiness. Breathing deeply was difficult.

I opened my eyes.

I was naked on a mattress someone must have brought into the living room during the night.

Marcello was asleep next to me, face down. Naked too, his back covered in fresh red marks, scratches, and bruises on his neck.

Sex sounds echoed in my blurred memories.

Disoriented, I looked around. The room bore the aftermath of the night before--scattered clothes, a table covered in glasses, beer bottles, sparkling wine, dried stains on the floor. The room felt damp, slightly stifling; it smelled of stale sweat, alcohol, and something else... something dense, alive.

Not finding my clothes, I put on a t-shirt from the floor--Paolo's.

My memories were foggy. The sex sounds continued in my head... What happened last night?

The bathroom door was open, light on, faucet running. My nausea spiked, and I rushed inside. The vomit burned my throat like battery acid, but after drinking lots and lots of water, I started to feel a little better.

That's when I realized the sounds weren't coming from my mind.

I peeked into the living room and saw they were coming from a phone on a table by the wall, plugged into the charger, playing a video on loop. I recognized my moans, and Friederike's.

I approached and picked up the phone without thinking, and I watched.

Friederike and I, in close-up, naked.

The angle was low, shaky. The image trembled; the edges were blurred. The lighting was awful, with flashing bursts from the camera light blowing everything out. But what was happening was clear.

We were being fucked side by side, our bodies glistening with sweat. My hair stuck to my forehead, my eyes closed. Friederike stared into the camera, smiling.

Sandro was behind me. Paolo behind her.

Marcello's cock entered the frame, right in front of us--and seeing it on screen stunned me. It was probably the biggest I'd ever seen. Friederike and I took it in our hands and it still jutted beyond.

We began devouring it with hunger. Friederike took it between her lips while I bent to kiss the base, licking from bottom to top. Then I took it in my mouth and she started licking his balls, sucking them.

Friederike kept looking straight at the camera--I felt like she was looking at me watching the video. Her eyes glistening, her face flushed, and that expression--that slight tremble in her chin that wasn't pain--but desire.

Suddenly Sandro, without breaking rhythm, nudged Paolo's elbow.

When Paolo looked at him, Sandro nodded--as if asking a question to which Paolo nodded back.

They pulled out of us and swapped places, Paolo behind me, Sandro behind Friederike. In the video, I saw myself panicking for a second when I realized what was about to happen. I looked around frantically--at Friederike, Paolo, Marcello, Sandro, and back at Friederike--all in a fraction of a second. Then the panic left my body and I accepted it the moment Paolo grabbed my hips.

Friederike, on the other hand, simply intensified the blowjob she was giving. I'd say I didn't recognize her, but I didn't recognize myself either.

Paolo entered slowly, and you could see the moment of penetration on my face. Sandro slapped Friederike's ass, making her smile, then entered her without warning, without hesitation. She closed her eyes and started moving her hips--completely overtaken by desire...

The video ended and looped again.

I stood there, stunned...

What else was recorded?

I swiped the screen to see what else the phone had captured.

--------

An image.

A close-up of my face with Marcello's cock in my mouth, I assume. My lips are around him, a string of saliva--or cum--dripping from my mouth.

And though not obvious, you can see hands gripping my hips, fucking me from behind.

I swiped forward.

--------

Image. This time from behind.

My bare ass and Friederike's. Both of us on all fours, side by side, our sexes exposed, glistening in the flash.

Our naked, sweaty bodies glowing in the light.

Red marks were visible on our asses--fresh lines across the curves. Friederike had a clear handprint on one cheek.

My cheeks burned. But it wasn't shame.

It was the memories returning--and what they stirred inside me.

--------

Next video played with overloaded sound.

This time, Friederike's face appeared with a cock in her mouth. I was beside her with another in mine. I didn't know which one belonged to whom--we were both kneeling, licking with unusual hunger.

Marcello, recording, asked one of the men:

--Should we switch?

Friederike lifted her head, grinning like a mischievous girl.

--I still haven't tasted Sandro. I want to try all the flavors.

The men laughed, and I even let out a muffled chuckle as I swallowed what I now assumed was Sandro.

--------

Video

The camera is held by a man, pointed down at his cock penetrating someone on all fours. Her hands are tied behind her back with a tie. It's Friederike--I recognize her nails.

The thrusting, the flesh slapping, the cock moving in and out fast... A hypnotic sequence.

I realized he wasn't wearing a condom! I tried to remember, but my memories were unreliable. A tingling started in my sex.

--------

Video

Friederike being fucked while she's going down on me. I'm in front of her, legs spread. Lying on the mattress, my torso slightly lifted as I took one of the men in my mouth, breath heavy.

Friederike's tongue is deep in my pussy and her right hand is inside me... judging by my moans, she's doing a very good job. I keep my lips on one of the men's cocks, but then I stop, panting harder, my face changes...

I'm cumming.

At that moment, the man fucking her--whoever it was--grabs her hips and starts pounding her harder, making her moan into me.

The trembling in my thighs was visible even in the video. My hands gripped her hair, and my face was... something I hadn't seen in myself before.

--------

Video

I was leaning forward on the mattress, back arched, hair stuck to my neck. I lifted my hips, breathing hard.

Marcello, naked behind me, put something in his hands and slid it into me, then onto his erect cock. I tensed watching it, assuming it was lube.

Marcello stood, his cock bobbing, and positioned himself behind me, grabbed my hips, bent his knees.

--Are you ready? --he asked.

I nodded and muttered something like yes.

Someone recording said:

--Come on, Kadri, you can do it.

Friederike was recording. Friederike was filming how they were going to fuck my ass.

Holding onto my hips, Marcello pushed in slowly. My shoulders tensed at first, but slowly, I let go. My breathing changed. He started pumping, the sound grew rough. At some point, I gripped the sheets and let out a long moan. You couldn't hear my voice. You just felt it.

Friederike said something to someone else while filming--I couldn't make it out.

--------

Video

The next video starts abruptly, with no warning or buildup. I froze, letting out a gasp of disbelief at what I saw on the phone.

I was in the center of the mattress, being used by all three men at once. I was straddling Marcello, my back to him, feet on the floor, knees bent, while he held my lower back and fucked my ass. Paolo was in front of me, gripping my waist and burying himself inside my pussy. Sandro had his hands in my hair and was using my mouth in a way that looked violent.

I was on my knees, completely surrendered, body drenched in sweat, hands gripping the mattress, my whole body moving with them. And I was loving it.

Paolo leaned up to lick my breasts, and I, still sucking, closed my eyes and let out a deep moan.

--Come on, Kadri, give it everything!

Friederike moved in with the camera. The close-up was almost cruel. My face in full surrender. Flushed red. Hair wet and stuck to my cheeks. My face slick with saliva and other fluids. Lips stretched with effort. My eyes lost somewhere between pleasure and collapse.

--------

Video

Bodies. Marcello is on top of Friederike, who's digging her nails into his back. Sandro has me on all fours. The two of us side by side in the center of the mattress, our sweaty skin glistening, thighs marked, my breasts visibly bouncing with each thrust. And the rhythmic sounds and moans of an orgy.

Friederike says:

--I'm close.

And I respond:

--Me too.

Marcello and Sandro exchange a look, as if it were a challenge. As if they wanted to see who could push us further.

The rhythm shifts--faster. It becomes brutal, unintentionally synchronized. My hands sink into the mattress. My arms give out. My thighs begin to tremble.

I start to cry out and suddenly grab Sandro's arm, the one still holding my hip.

Friederike screams:

--I'm cumming!!

Friederike cums first. Her scream is hoarse, she claws at Marcello's back and wraps her legs tightly around him.

I'm not far behind. The video clearly shows the moment my back arches as if I'm breaking from the inside. My hips shake so hard Sandro has to help me collapse onto the mattress. His cock slips out of me with a popping sound and swings loosely.

I remember that. I remember that orgasm.

The memories return.

I swipe my finger to see what comes next.

--------

Video

We're in the same position as the previous video -- Friederike on her back on the mattress, Marcello fucking her passionately, her head visible just over his shoulder.

He had one hand above her head to brace himself as he thrust into her, and she clung to his back, to his shoulders.

Next to them, Sandro was taking me hard from behind, gripping me like it still wasn't enough.

Both of them were picking up their pace.

And it was Marcello who spoke first, a rough whisper:

--I'm going to cum...

Sandro followed just seconds later:

--Me too...

Friederike didn't say a word. But the video shows her answer clearly: when she hears that, she wraps her legs around him and starts moving her hips herself. She arches into him. Kissing him, biting his ear.

I... I did speak. My voice is barely audible. But you can make it out:

--Inside... come inside...

Marcello buries himself deep inside Friederike. He trembles with a moan, while she's still clinging to him with both legs.

Sandro keeps going for a few seconds more. I can feel it in my body just watching it. When he finishes, he gives me several hard spanks and pulls out, falling back, leaving a thick string of semen hanging between my vulva and his glans.

The two men start breathing slowly. The video ends without a word.

--------

One more image.

Me. Alone.

The angle was from my feet, tilted. My legs were spread, one extended and the other bent, resting on the messy mattress. My bare torso, hair stuck to my shoulders. Sweat still glistened on my collarbone. My eyes closed. My mouth slightly open.

My face said things I hadn't wanted to say out loud: exhaustion, shame, and a pleasure that still made me tremble.

A thick thread of semen was descending from the center of my sex, slowly sliding toward the mattress.

They never used condoms.

I stared at the frozen image.

I don't know how long I stayed in a trance looking at that photo, but then I noticed the sound continued; the sound of sex, even though what I was seeing was a picture.

It wasn't the video, it wasn't my memories.

--

The moans, the rhythmic slapping, the voice--a voice I recognized--were coming from beyond the door to the hallway.

I realized Friederike, Sandro, and Paolo were gone.

I sat up, slowly.

The door to a bedroom was slightly ajar, and I opened it.

Friederike, on the bed riding Sandro while Paolo sodomized her, pulling her hair.

All three with an insatiable hunger, their bodies moving, muffled moans filling the space. Friederike with an expression I couldn't read, as if something was still left to burn.

And I...

I stood at the door.

Watching.

My heart pounded in my throat.

The heat... was returning. There were still things left to burn.

I jumped at the feel of a hand on my hip, turned, and saw Marcello behind me.

He looked into my eyes. I dropped my gaze and saw he was getting hard. When I looked back up, he was still staring, asking me something silently.

And I nodded.

He took me by the nape of the neck and led me to the edge of the bed, made me kneel.

He entered slowly. As if my body was still ready for him.

I looked over at Friederike, who was watching me, and when our eyes met, she smiled and said between gasps:

--We're going to miss our flight.

My lips parted to answer, but no words came out.

Marcello pushed into me, and I felt my back give, my skin sticking to the sweaty mattress...

I let him in deeper.

I let go of everything.

2 months later.

Berlin

Sunday -- 01:28

Friederike got up without a sound, trying not to wake Javier. She walked to the bathroom and turned on the mirror light.

-

Kadri sat in the dark of her room, the glow of the laptop screen lighting her bare torso.

-

Friederike took off her t-shirt, looked at her body without judgment.

She ran a damp towel over her chest, between her legs.

As if drying something invisible.

-

Kadri clicked. Video after video. Searching for something that didn't exist on that site. That didn't exist anywhere.

Nothing had the substance--what she needed to feel, what she felt in Rome.

-

Friederike closed her eyes. She didn't touch herself.

She just felt.

As if something inside her was still dripping.

-

Kadri turned off the laptop. Sat in the dark room, legs folded, hands empty.

-

Friederike felt the desire to talk to someone, to connect. She thought of Kadri, picked up her phone.

-

Kadri picked up her phone, opened her dating app, started replying to messages. She received one:

> "When are we going on another trip?"

The thirst.

Rome

Sunday -- 01:47

In a room lit by the glow of a television, Claire is riding Marcello frenetically on a thick rug, naked, moaning. Her entire body moves rhythmically. On the screen, a video plays: Friederike arched over a couch, taken violently by Paolo; in front of her, Kadri holds Sandro's gaze as he fucks her mouth, gripping her head with both hands... The two women glance sideways at each other, sweaty, the...

Claire nears climax just as the women on the screen begin to.

--I'm coming, I'm coming!--she cries.

She comes when they come. Never before. Never.

--

Afterward, lying down, her breath ragged, Claire rests while Marcello watches her.

The moans of Friederike and Kadri continue from the TV.

--The Berlin sluts... they're pure gold --Claire says, her fingers still lightly stroking her own thigh.

She sits up suddenly, eyes wide, as if remembering something.

--I want to do it again. Put on the other one--you know which.

Marcello laughs. He leans toward the laptop connected to the television, his erection swaying.

Claire leans in and takes him in her mouth.

The screen darkens, and when the image returns, it's other bodies, other moans.

Two women in an orgy, being taken savagely.

One in her late-forties, the other very young, maybe 19. Both naked, pale-skinned, the older one with light brown hair, the younger almost blonde, thick lips, wide eyes. It's obvious they share blood--the resemblance is unsettling. The older woman grips the edge of a mattress, arms tense; the younger one is on all fours, her body shaking with every thrust.

They don't speak, don't smile--only moan; eyes wet, cheeks flushed with a blend of shame and lust.

The camera shifts and Marcello's face appears--he's behind the older woman. His body tense, his hands gripping her hips. Another man is penetrating the younger one. A third, holding the camera, laughs softly.

--Is being a slut runs in the family? --asks the cameraman, almost laughing.

Then, just as the older woman begins to tense, moaning louder, a hand enters the frame. It grabs the younger one's head firmly and turns it, forcing her to look.

--Watch your mother as she cums--says a deep voice, like a command.

The young woman obeys without a word. Her gaze locks onto her mother's face -- the woman arches with a moan that turns into a scream, trembling, mouth wide open.

The mother is the first to come.

The daughter's fingers dig into the sheets, her body on the verge of following.

Marcello is now behind Claire, her eyes riveted to the screen, her face contorted with pleasure, just about to come again.

On screen, the daughter bites her lip, sweat sliding down her collarbone. The man behind her picks up his pace. The mother, still gasping, begins to receive thick streams of semen across her face.