The Night My Husband Gave Me to His Friend

My husband and I had had the same game for years. I don’t know whether it was his idea or mine, but over time it became one of those intimate habits only the people who live them really understand. He would invite some acquaintance over for dinner, I would put on something I had no business wearing in front of anyone else, and we would spend the evening teasing the poor guest. Then, once we were in bed, we’d talk about how hard he’d gotten, what face he’d made, where he’d looked. And we’d fuck with that in our heads, with the guest’s name coming out of our mouths while Mateo fucked me, imagining it was someone else prying my legs apart.

It was our little secret, our way of keeping alive what other couples let die. But that night, the game got away from us.

That night it was Tomás’s turn.

I knew him from padel matches. He and Mateo had been playing together every Wednesday afternoon for about six months. I’d seen him a couple of times, always briefly, always politely. He was a big man, broad-shouldered, with huge hands. He had to be about forty, divorced, and according to my husband, he’d confessed over a few beers that he hadn’t touched a woman in more than a year.

—He’s perfect —Mateo had told me that morning, while I tried on the dress in front of the mirror—. He’s been eyeing you in the WhatsApp group for months. Every time I post a picture of the two of us, he hits “like” within two minutes.

I laughed. The dress was black, tight, and it fell exactly where it should and not a centimeter lower. I’d bought it three weeks earlier with that exact night in mind.

—And the thong? —I asked.

—The string one. The red one.

I nodded. That was the code. The red thong meant I was going further than other times. That I was going to lean over in front of him while serving the wine. That I was going to drop the napkin two or three times during dinner. That I was going to dance.

***

Tomás arrived at nine on the dot. He brought a bottle of red wine and smelled like expensive cologne. When he gave me two kisses, I felt him inhale a little more than necessary near my neck. Mateo, behind me, smiled where Tomás couldn’t see it.

Dinner was long. I laughed a little too much at Tomás’s jokes, touched his arm when he talked to me, looked him in the eyes a second longer than was polite. He played along, though with some caution. Mateo watched us from the other side of the table, drinking more slowly than we were, enjoying the show.

—And how did you two meet? —Tomás asked at one point, trying to steer the conversation back to safe ground.

—At a wedding —I answered, crossing my legs so the dress rode up just a little—. Mateo pulled me out to dance and didn’t let me go until the next day.

Tomás let out a nervous laugh. I poured him more wine. His hand trembled when it brushed mine as he held the glass.

***

After dessert I put on music. Slow bossa, the kind that seems to ask for bodies pressed together. I held out my hand to Tomás.

—Come on —I said.

—No, no, I dance terribly.

—I’ll lead.

I dragged him to the little space we’d cleared between the sofa and the table. Mateo stayed seated, glass in hand and that smile he only gets when he’s very turned on. I put my hands on Tomás’s shoulders and started moving against him slowly, unhurriedly, letting my hips set the rhythm.

I felt his hard cock against my stomach before he could hide it. It was rock hard, pressing against the fabric of his pants like a thick bulge that bumped me every time I pressed against him. I hooked my leg over his thigh, rubbing myself against him, and heard a gasp escape him. I lifted my head and looked at him. His jaw was clenched and a bead of sweat was running down his temple.

—Sorry —he murmured—. It’s just that you…

—Relax —I answered against his ear, sliding my hand around his waist and down until I brushed the fly of his pants with my fingertips—. Mateo knows.

He froze. I pulled back a little and looked him in the eyes.

—What do you mean, he knows?

I smiled, kissed him on the cheek, and left him there, rooted in place, with his cock straining under his pants and no idea what to do with it. I went to the kitchen to pour myself another glass, giving Mateo time to do his part.

From the doorway I watched them. My husband had stood up and was speaking into Tomás’s ear, one hand resting on his shoulder. Tomás’s eyes widened more and more, he shook his head, looked back at me. Mateo patted his back and said something else. Then Tomás gave a short, disbelieving laugh and ran a hand over his face.

—You bastard! —I heard him say—. You’ve had me all night…

—Well then go on —Mateo replied, nodding toward me—. Fuck her. She’s had her panties soaked for you all night.

Tomás turned around. And looked at me differently. He was no longer the shy guest laughing nervously at my jokes. He was a man who hadn’t touched a woman in more than a year and who had just been given permission to fuck the one he’d wanted all that time. He walked toward me without haste, eyes locked on mine, his cock still straining under his pants like a threat.

***

I didn’t have time to put the glass down. He took it from my hand and set it on the counter. Then he grabbed me around the waist, with those huge hands that seemed to wrap around me completely, and kissed me.

His mouth was different. Mateo kissed with tenderness, with patience. Tomás kissed like he’d spent months imagining it and couldn’t afford to lose another second. His tongue entered my mouth without asking, his teeth nipped my lower lip, and one of his hands slid to the back of my neck and fisted my hair. It wasn’t gentle. And far from bothering me, it sent me completely out of my mind. I bit his tongue, raked my nails over his nape, and felt him groan into my mouth.

I felt the other hand hike my dress up over my hip, uncover the red thong, pause to feel the fabric. He dragged two fingers over the thin strip and felt how soaked I was. He pushed the fabric aside and slid his middle finger in to the knuckle, without warning. I arched against the counter and let out a moan that made him smile.

—Dental floss —he said, pulling back for a second to look at me, pulling out the shining finger and sucking it in front of me—. And dripping wet on top of it. You little bitch.

And he kissed me again, shoving two fingers into me at once, working them with a rough clumsiness that made me wetter still. With his thumb he found my clit and pressed, and I opened my legs against his hand like a bitch in heat.

He dragged me to the sofa. I’m not exaggerating when I say dragged. He took me firmly by the arm and pushed me against the cushions. The dress was already a tangled mess around my waist. He yanked it up without care, and in less than a minute I was in bra and thong, with him standing in front of me unbuckling his belt.

When he lowered his pants, I opened my eyes wide. It was different from what I was used to. Thicker, longer, with prominent veins, and a broad purple head I wasn’t sure would fit. It hung heavy, pointing at me, with a thick drop of pre-cum at the tip. Mateo, from his armchair, let out a small laugh.

—Now you’ll understand why I spent weeks insisting he come to dinner.

***

Tomás pulled his shirt over his head and leaned over me. He ripped my bra off with one hand, almost effortlessly, and my tits bounced free against his face. He went at them like a hungry man, biting my nipples hard enough to make me scream, tugging at them with his teeth and releasing them to spit on them before suckling again. I grabbed his head and pressed him to my chest, arching, forcing his mouth against me.

—Suck them —I begged, not recognizing my own voice—. Bite them harder.

He slid down my stomach, leaving a trail of saliva, and tore off my thong in one yank. Literally. The string gave way with a dry snap and the fabric hung from one hip. He spread my legs with his hands, with no delicacy at all, and buried his face in my cunt.

He didn’t lick me, he devoured me. His tongue ran over me from bottom to top and stayed sucking my clit with a force that made me jolt. He worked two fingers in, pulled them out, shoved them back in, curling them upward while his tongue never stopped. I grabbed the sofa cushions with both hands and started fucking his face, pushing my hips up, rubbing myself against his mouth without a shred of shame.

—I’m going to come —I warned him—. Fuck, I’m going to come on your face.

—Come —he growled against my pussy, and kept sucking harder.

I came screaming, my thighs clamping around his head, soaking his mouth and chin. He didn’t stop. He kept licking me while I trembled, drawing the orgasm out until I couldn’t take any more, until I had to press his forehead away with both hands so he’d stop.

When he lifted his face, it was shining, his beard wet. He licked his lips. Then he straightened, grabbed his cock in his fist, and pulled me aside without bothering to lower my dress all the way. He ran the head of it over my pussy lips, up and down, rubbing it there, soaking it in my own wetness. I was trembling, still sensitive, waiting.

And he drove into me in one thrust. All the way in. Without warning.

I let out a cry that wasn’t entirely pleasure. For a second I thought I wouldn’t be able to take it. I felt him hit something inside me I hadn’t known existed. But he didn’t stop. He stayed inside for a moment, resting his forehead against mine, giving me time to get used to that enormous cock opening me from the inside, and then he started moving at a pace that left me no room to think. All I could do was cling to the back of the sofa and let him do with me what he wanted.

Each thrust wrung a different sound from me. I was never quiet, but that night I was worse than ever. Every time Tomás pulled almost all the way out and slammed back into me, I screamed, moaned, begged for more. The sound of his balls slapping my ass filled the living room. Mateo had opened his pants and was wanking slowly, watching us, his cock shining between his fingers and his eyes glassy. Every time I looked at him, he nodded, as if telling me to keep going, not to stop, to give it all to him.

—Tell him what you want —Mateo ordered me—. Tell him.

—Fuck me —I begged Tomás, looking him in the eyes—. Fuck me harder. Break me.

He let out a growl and started pounding me faster, gripping my hips, digging his fingers in. He put one leg over his shoulder and changed the angle, and his cock started rubbing against a spot inside me that made me see stars. I was rubbing my clit with two fingers, frantically, feeling another orgasm rising.

Just as I was about to come, Tomás pulled out.

—No, no, no! —I protested, completely lost, reaching for his cock with my hand—. Put it back in, you fucking bastard, don’t pull out.

—Turn around.

I did it without thinking. He put me on my knees on the sofa, chest against the backrest and ass in the air. I felt him clear away the remains of the thong again, heard him spit on his hand, and then I felt the head of his cock pressing against another place. Against the other hole. He placed one hand on my back, pushing me down, opening me wider.

I looked back at him.

—Tomás, wait, that’s…

—Relax —he said, with a calm that scared me—. If you don’t want it, then no.

I looked at Mateo. My husband had come closer, his cock in his hand a foot from my face, and he was looking at me with a intensity I had never seen before. I took a deep breath.

—Slowly —I begged Tomás.

He didn’t go slowly.

***

He pushed. I had some experience with that practice, but nothing remotely like that. I felt the thick head forcing my ass, giving way centimeter by centimeter, opening me in a way no cock had ever opened me before. For an instant I lunged forward, instinctively trying to escape. Tomás grabbed my hips and pulled me toward him, forcing me to take the rest. All I managed was a deep, long moan from a place in my body I hadn’t known could make any sound at all.

But once he was inside, to the balls, I didn’t want him to come out.

He waited a few seconds, one hand spread over my back, letting me adjust to having all of him inside. I could feel every centimeter, every vein, throbbing in me. Then he started moving. Slowly at first, pulling out only a little, then with a longer stroke, then without pause, fucking my ass with long, deep thrusts. It was painful, yes, but it was also the most intense thing I’d ever felt in my life. I had crossed over to the other side of something. I don’t know how else to explain it. I had become something else, an open body, a hole to be used.

I lowered one hand and started touching my cunt. I was so wet my fingers slipped. I put three in at once, pushing them deep, feeling Tomás’s cock through the wall, noticing how it came in and out on the other side. The sensation of having both holes filled at once made me let out a moan so long Mateo swallowed it by shoving his cock into my mouth.

—Suck —he told me—. Suck me while he’s fucking you in the ass.

I opened my mouth without thinking and took my husband’s cock all the way down. Mateo grabbed the back of the sofa and started fucking my face at the rhythm Tomás was fucking me from behind. I was wedged between the two of them, impaled from front and back, my cheeks bulging with Mateo’s cock and my ass wrecked by Tomás’s. And I couldn’t remember ever being happier.

—Look at him, baby —Mateo told me, pulling out to let me breathe—. Look how he takes you. Look at yourself giving it to him. Look what a whore you are.

—Yes —I managed to say, my voice wrecked—. I’m a whore. I’m your whore. I’m both of yours.

I could barely think. I just moaned and pushed my hips back, taking Tomás with less and less resistance, my fingers buried in my own cunt, and went back to sucking my husband’s cock, tears in my eyes. When Tomás let out a low groan and emptied himself inside me, it was so much I felt it overflow, felt it run down the inside of my thigh, hot and thick. His last thrusts were clumsy, short, squeezing my hips so hard they’d leave marks. I came at that exact moment, looking my husband in the eyes, face pressed into the cushion, thighs shaking and those three fingers still inside my pussy.

Tomás stayed still for a few seconds, breathing hard, still inside me. Then he pulled out carefully. I felt his cock withdraw and a stream of semen follow, sliding down my perineum, dripping onto my thighs and the sofa. He collapsed at the other end, chuckling under his breath, his cock shiny, half-soft, resting against his thigh, like a man who still couldn’t quite believe what had just happened.

I stayed there, reclined, not moving, feeling semen trickling between my ass cheeks. Mateo knelt beside me and brushed my hair out of my face. He had come at some point without my noticing; his hand and stomach were smeared.

—Are you okay?

—I’m more than okay.

***

That night Tomás took me two more times. Once on the living room rug, with me on top, impaled on his cock, setting the pace, rising and lowering slowly, letting him see his whole length sinking into my cunt and coming back out shining. I took his hands and put them on my tits, and asked him to squeeze them while I rode him. Just as I was about to come again, he grabbed my throat, pressing only lightly, and made me ride him faster. I came like that, with his hand on my throat and his balls slapping my ass every time I dropped.

Another time against the hallway wall, when we were already on our way to the bedroom and he decided he couldn’t wait. He pinned me to the plaster, lifted me by the thighs like I weighed nothing, and fucked me standing up, with my legs around his waist and my back hitting the wall with every thrust. I bit his shoulder to keep from screaming and he laughed and thrust harder, until I was banging my head against the wall.

The last time he laid me down again, this time on my back on the bed, with my legs over his shoulders, and made me watch him go in and out of me while I kept touching myself without stopping. He made me lick his fingers after he’d had them in my cunt, made me beg him to come on my face, and when I could take no more he pulled out, climbed over my chest, and came in streams over my mouth, my cheeks, my eyelashes. I stuck out my tongue and swallowed what I could. Mateo, lying beside me, smeared the rest over me with his fingers and put it in my mouth so I’d suck it.

Mateo recorded everything on his phone, at my request. I needed to be able to watch it later, because I knew my head wouldn’t fully believe what had happened.

Tomás left at dawn. Mateo shook his hand at the door, said “anytime,” and they both laughed. I saw him out with a long kiss on the mouth, barefoot, in a robe, my whole body aching and semen still dripping down the insides of my thighs.

Then I slept for twelve straight hours.

***

The next day I could barely sit down. My ass hurt for almost a week. Every time I moved, every time I bent over, every time I sat down to work, I remembered that night, that enormous cock opening me, the two men using me at once. The pleasure had been gone for a while, but the memory was still there, insistent, refusing to let me forget. Mateo laughed when he saw me walking slowly. I’d throw a cushion at his head and go to the bedroom to watch the videos with my hand between my legs.

Three weeks later I asked him to invite Tomás again.

This time I told him not to expect me to be as calm as before. That this time I wanted it to be him holding me, marking me, telling me how and when. That I was going to be the one humiliating myself in front of both of them. That I was ready for something neither Mateo nor I had ever tried before.

Mateo looked me in the eyes, very serious, and asked if I was sure.

—I’m sure —I told him.

And then he smiled, picked up the phone, and dialed.