I Knelt in Front of Him and Whispered: Use Me

We were leaving Marcos’s store and I was burning up. My breathing was ragged, my cheeks flushed, my mouth full of saliva, and my nipples were standing out shamelessly against my blouse. I didn’t care about walking through the crowd like that, exposed. All I wanted was to get to the car and have Damián make me his.

I could still feel my husband’s hands and Marcos’s on me, how hot their palms were against my tits—so big that even those huge hands couldn’t quite cover them—and the sting of the spanks that was still throbbing with every step.

We finally got to the car and Damián pulled away. I had no idea where we were going and didn’t care either; neither the excitement nor the heat was going down even a single degree.

“Love, did you like how Marcos touched you?” he asked without taking his eyes off the road.

“A lot. Feeling so many hands at once is way too exciting. Look at my nipples.”

I ran my fingertip over the fabric, tracing the hard little bulge, while I watched him drive.

“What nice, huge tits you’ve got,” he said. “Marcos must’ve been left wanting to taste them.”

His hand settled back on my breast. He squeezed it, tugged at my nipple, and every time he let go the fabric stayed caught for a moment between his fingers.

“Keep your eyes on the road,” I moaned, “though I love it when you yank them like that.”

“You’re such a slut when you get turned on,” he muttered. “I love that you take off that saintly mask. If you could see how you’ve got me, and poor Marcos was left wrecked.”

My husband knows how to talk to me when I’m in that state. Dirty, graphic words turn me on more than any touch.

“I think the poor guy was left wanting more,” I said.

As I said it, Damián unzipped his fly. His cock came free, thick and hard, and at the same time soft-looking, gleaming in the sun as if coated in oil. In one motion he put a hand on the back of my neck and pushed me down, forcing me to bend over and leave my ass almost level with the window.

“Look how you’ve got me,” he said. “How about you start cleaning me up?”

The smell of his sex was intense and my mouth opened on its own. A thick strand of saliva fell from my tongue before I swallowed it down. I started moving back and forth, nonstop, because I know exactly what he likes.

“You love sucking cock, don’t you?” he panted. “Keep it up, like a good bitch.”

My mouth kept filling with saliva and I swallowed it without taking him out, like an expert. We’d been on the road for several minutes when I noticed the car leave the asphalt and turn onto a dirt track. I stopped sucking and sat up to look: we’d gone just a few yards off the road, toward a vacant lot full of brush and trees.

“Your friend Rubén fucked you on the side of the highway,” he said. “Now I want to do the same thing to you.”

Damián got out of the car without bothering to hide his erection and walked around to my door. He didn’t say a word. He took my head in one hand and with the other guided his cock to my mouth; with one single push, rough and precise, he rammed it down my throat. My chin was pressed against his balls and his hands held me still.

“What a good little swallower you are,” he said. “I love it when your mouth is full and you can’t even talk.”

I lifted my gaze to his eyes and saw the almost cruel smile that spread across his face. He pulled his cock out just enough to let me breathe; I coughed, gasping for air, and before I’d fully recovered he shoved it back into my throat. He was fucking my mouth to his rhythm, moving my head, and saliva dripped from my chin onto his balls and my tits.

“No friend enjoys you the way you deserve,” he said. “I do that.”

He freed my mouth, but not my hair.

“Rubén doesn’t know how to handle a good slut like you,” I answered with a smile slick with saliva.

He dragged me by the hair to the back of the car. He positioned me against the trunk, with one leg braced on the wheel, leaving my pussy completely exposed. He slid in with one hard thrust, easy because of how wet I was, and with his hands on my hips he started moving me at a ferocious pace. My tits bounced, pleasure blurred my mind, and I didn’t care about the people passing by in their cars on the road. He pulled my breasts out, exposed for anyone to see, and yanked my nipples until an orgasm shook me all the way through: the walls clenching, my legs trembling, my voice breaking.

“You squeeze so damn good,” he growled. “You’re going to make me finish.”

He slapped my ass and, without me even realizing how, I ended up on my knees in front of him while he jerked off. I opened my mouth on pure instinct, as if my body were acting on its own, until I felt his load spill over my face, my tongue, and my tits. He was panting like he’d just run a marathon. What am I doing here? I thought when reason started coming back. I told him we should leave quickly, fixed myself up as best I could, and got back in the car.

On the way home my heart was still racing, but the satisfied smile wouldn’t leave my face. Damián had the same one, and we looked at each other for a second with the complicity of people who share a secret that belongs to only them.

***

For days my husband remembered that afternoon like a boy proud of his mischief. A week later, after coming back from work, I was left alone at home with my father-in-law, as so many times before. I like being seductive without being obvious, and that afternoon I wanted to play a little with him. I was on the sofa, relaxing, watching him go back and forth from the kitchen, until I came up with an idea.

“What are you making, father-in-law? Something delicious, I bet. None of your dishes have ever disappointed me.”

“You know I put in the effort,” he replied proudly. “I think I’ve finally found your taste.”

“I’m in a cheerful mood today. I’m going to open a bottle of my favorite champagne.”

“I’m surprised you’re drinking when it’s not a special day.”

“Just because I feel like it. A couple of glasses, that’s all.”

I went into my bedroom, stood in front of the mirror, and adjusted my clothes in a more provocative way: I lowered my blouse a little to show off my cleavage, hiked up my skirt, and touched up my makeup. I came back out with the bottle in my hand and returned to the sofa.

“Father-in-law, could you bring me two glasses?”

“Two? Who are you drinking with?” he said, laughing at his own joke.

“Aren’t you going to keep me company? Would you leave a lady to drink alone?”

After a light exchange of bad jokes, he sat nearby on the other sofa, close enough without invading my space. He handed me a glass with his kind smile. I opened the bottle carefully, filled his glass to the brim in a way any connoisseur would have called irreverent, and barely covered the bottom of mine.

“You pour yourself so little? Now I look like a drunk,” he laughed.

“First I want to taste it slowly, delight the palate, enjoy the first lick,” I said, letting my gaze grow deep.

I noticed it. He went quiet for a moment before rearranging his friendly expression.

“Sometimes you’re a little spoiled.”

“Then I toast: to being spoiled!”

I lifted the glass up to his chest without breaking eye contact, my painted lips holding that bold smile. The glasses touched softly. I waited for him to drink first. Then I turned three-quarters, straightened my back, stretched my neck, and as I raised the glass I lifted my chin, eyes closed. While I drank, I slid my index and middle finger along a path from my jaw to my neck, slow, sensual. When I finished, my father-in-law was completely absorbed. He swallowed hard.

“I love this champagne, it’s my favorite,” I said, bringing him back to reality.

“Y-yes, I know it’s your favorite,” he stammered, his voice breaking with nerves.

“Will you pour me another? Just like the last one.”

I held out my hand in front of him, never dropping the smile. He said nothing and, with trembling fingers, filled my glass again.

“Thank you, father-in-law. You’re so kind, so gentlemanly.”

I didn’t give him time to answer. I brought the glass to my mouth again, chin lifted, but this time facing him directly, and deliberately let a drop fall onto my lips. As I moved the glass away, I looked at him again and ran my tongue across my mouth shamelessly; the drop worked in my favor and slid down, disappearing between my tits.

“Oh, I think I drank too fast,” I said with feigned nervousness.

I leaned over the table to reach for a napkin and, doing so, saw the hard bulge straining against his pants. I acted normally and wiped myself clean. Should I go further? I wondered. No, that’s enough. I don’t want to let this get away from me.

“It was nice, but that’s enough for me. You know I watch my figure.”

I stood up and set the glass on the table.

“Of course, of course,” he said without moving, trying to hide his erection. “Let’s wait for the next opportunity.”

I went to my room proud of my little victory.

***

A couple of days later I woke up and found Damián already dressed and in a good mood.

“Are you that excited to meet my friend?” I asked.

“Honestly, yeah. Are you going to dress sexy for him?”

“Maybe. I’m going to leave both you and him dazzled.”

He came over and kissed me on the lips. I wasted no time: I showered and got ready with light makeup, a tight skirt reaching mid-thigh that left my thighs and ass too visible, a black V-neck blouse, and underneath, a set of semi-transparent black lace lingerie. Damián slapped my ass when he saw me.

“Rubén’s going to love how you look. So am I,” he said, and led me almost by the hand to the car.

At the restaurant, Rubén was already waiting at the reserved table, round and made of solid wood. I sat between him and my husband. I greeted him with a kiss on the cheek and settled in elegantly.

“Rubén, this is my husband, Damián,” I said, introducing him with a gesture of my hand. “Love, this is my friend Rubén.”

They shook hands. At first it was all polite conversation. Nothing extraordinary, until Damián got up to use the bathroom and left me alone with Rubén.

“Your husband is very nice,” he said.

“He is, that’s why I fell in love. But we didn’t come just to chat, did we?”

As I finished the sentence I took his hand gently and led it to my thigh, right at the edge between skin and fabric, with my legs crossed.

“I like this better,” he murmured. “Ever since you walked in, I wanted to do this.”

“I enjoy it too. But remember one thing: you can touch me however you want, as long as my husband doesn’t find out. Are we clear?”

Rubén ran his hand along my thigh and played with the hem of my skirt. My eyes scanned the room in case any nosy gaze caught us. Damián came back and he pulled his hand away, though he kept it hovering, ready to strike at the first chance.

When we finished eating, Rubén suggested going to a nearby park. We had agreed to go to the movies, so the change surprised us, but I could read in his eyes that he had a plan. Damián noticed too and was the first to accept. Nothing interesting happened on the way, and I started thinking Rubén wouldn’t be as bold as I’d thought, maybe because of my husband’s presence. I was bored. Until I understood: in the park there was a haunted house, one of those dark ones full of scare props. The dimness was perfect for Rubén to do his thing with my husband right there beside me.

“Do you like this kind of thing?” Damián asked.

“I felt like going in. It’s been ages since I’ve been to one,” Rubén replied.

My husband smiled, letting me know he was already in on the plan. We went in: him in front, me in the middle, Rubén behind. As soon as it got dark I felt a hand on my ass, squeezing me, moving up from my leg. We advanced slowly through the narrow corridors. My skirt kept riding up with those skillful movements and I didn’t push it back down; I just focused on walking, holding my husband’s hand, and biting back my moan.

The skirt was already halfway up my ass and Rubén was touching me directly, with no fabric in between, squeezing harder. He didn’t stop there: he also explored my tits, more carefully so Damián wouldn’t notice. My playful hand wanted to hold something, so I rested it on my husband’s crotch and found him hard. He knew what was happening and enjoyed it as much as I did. The three of us walked slowly, Rubén roaming over my body, me stroking Damián over his pants, so turned on I couldn’t even see the monsters. When the exit appeared and the light cleared the darkness, I straightened my skirt and blouse, and we came out smiling instead of scared.

Damián pretended to take a call, walked away a few yards, and a minute later he called me over. I left Rubén and went to him.

“Are you enjoying yourself, love?” he said quietly, as if he’d uncovered my secret. “Did you like your friend touching you?”

I blushed.

“I know we were only going to meet him, but I told him he could touch me as long as you didn’t notice.”

He ran his tongue over his teeth, came so close I could feel his breath, and kissed me at length, one hand on my waist.

“He left you really hot, I can see that. So I’m leaving, and you can have fun with your friend. At home you’ll tell me all the details, okay?”

I agreed. I watched him walk away until he disappeared into the crowd and went back to Rubén.

“What happened? Where did your husband go?” he asked, sure Damián had gotten upset.

“He had an emergency at work. He sends his regards and says we should do this again another day.”

“And do you have to go too?”

“No. You know? Today you were a little shameless,” I lied, pretending to be annoyed when in fact I would have wanted him far more shameless.

“Sorry, I couldn’t stop.”

“And now what? Is there anything else planned?” I said with calculated laziness.

“We can go to a hotel. Or wherever you want, even stay here.”

“You’d say that as if you forget I’m married.”

My voice sounded reproachful, but my intentions were the opposite. I started walking toward the exit.

“Hey, where are you going?” he asked, hurried, following me.

“Where you said, didn’t you?”

***

We took a taxi to the hotel. In the room, Rubén started kissing and caressing me, led me to the bed with an almost romantic tenderness, and my arousal started dropping until it became uncomfortable. I had to stop him.

“This isn’t working.”

“What’s wrong? Am I doing something wrong?”

I had to be honest, something I hate when it comes to my desire, but it was necessary.

“Romantic stuff bores me. I… need something bolder.”

“Something more passionate?” he asked.

By then I was desperate, not because of him, but because of me. I gathered up all my courage, knelt in front of him, looked him in the eye, and rested my palms on my knees.

“Use me.”

One single word. I opened my mouth. I was nervous, feeling a humiliation I don’t like, but I held on. Rubén wasn’t moving and I was already thinking of getting up and leaving, until a crooked smile crossed his face. He came closer, opened his fly, and freed his cock in front of me.

“You want me to use you?”

He grabbed my head and shoved it into my mouth. I started sucking instantly; the texture and heat of it turned me on so much that my panties got soaked. Without changing position I sucked faster and deeper, until I made it disappear completely, showing him my real skills.

“Fuck, your mouth is so deep. Keep going like that.”

I did the opposite: I slowed down dramatically.

“Why are you stopping?” he asked, looking at me.

I didn’t answer. I held his gaze like a challenge, until he understood.

“I told you to keep sucking.”

His tone was already commanding. He held my head with both hands and started fucking my mouth and throat without mercy.

“Do you like being used like this?”

He asked it while moving my head, and the only sound coming from my throat was the one that answered for me that I loved it. Before long he stood me up and took me to an armchair. I ended up with my arms on the backrest and my knees on the seat, my ass offered up. He came up from behind and, without measuring it well, went in. He didn’t know where he was putting it, but my ass opened up as he pushed forward, and I said nothing: if there’s one thing that drives me insane, it’s getting split open from behind.

He started fucking me hard, probably without even realizing it was the wrong hole. I moaned like a crazy woman at the sensation. One hand gripped my neck, the other braced on the backrest to drive into me harder. The slap of my ass against his pelvis could be heard.

“You’re fucking me so good,” I panted.

My words turned him on. When he straightened up and realized he was fucking my ass, he didn’t say anything dirty, as I’d expected; he just grabbed my hips and kept drilling into me fast and hard. The orgasm ripped a long moan out of me, and to stretch it out I took my hand to my pussy, spreading my legs as wide as possible in an obscene position, until I felt the inside flooded by his release. My legs stopped answering me and I almost fell, held up only by my hands on the armchair. When he pulled out, a white thread slid down to the floor. I sat down, trembling, catching my breath with my head thrown back.

“I didn’t know you liked it from behind,” he said.

I didn’t answer him. Even though I’d enjoyed it so much, a frustration still sat inside me: I’d expected him to be rougher, bolder, not just in bed but from the restaurant onward.

“Did it hurt a lot?”

“A little, but I recover fast,” I lied. I was happy he used my ass.

“Maybe next time I’ll be more careful.”

I hope for the exact opposite, I thought.

“I’ve got to go. I don’t want to leave my husband alone at home.”

I stood up, adjusted my clothes, and cleaned myself with some wet wipes that were in the room. If he talked to me, I didn’t hear him. I left without even remembering whether I said goodbye, got into the first taxi, and went back home.