I Woke Up in Bed with My Wife and a Stranger

I woke up with the sun hitting me straight in the face. The light was streaming in so strongly through the window that I had to squint, blinking several times until my eyes adjusted to the morning brightness. My head was pounding as if there were a drum inside it someone was beating without mercy, each throb echoing in my temples.

I lay there for a few seconds staring at the ceiling, motionless, trying to sort through my thoughts. From the street below came the murmur of people, voices moving in and out among the distant noise of a city that was already awake. I was still there, caught between the headache and the sun that kept sneaking in through the window.

I slowly turned my neck and saw her. She was asleep with her back to me, her hair tangled on the pillow and her body barely covered by the rumpled sheet. The room was silent, except for that murmur drifting in from outside.

On the floor, clothes were scattered in complete disorder, garments mixed together as if they had fallen there in the middle of the night and no one had cared to pick them up. A black thong hung from the leg of the chair, a pair of my briefs crushed near the door, a bra tangled up with my shirt. The whole scene smelled like a fuck.

That was when I became aware of everything. Under the sheet, I was completely naked. And so was she. My cock, half-hard against my thigh, throbbed with a strange weariness, as if it had been working for hours.

My mind tried to reconstruct the situation, to go back step by step and remember how I had ended up in that bed, what had actually happened during the night. The memories came in pieces, like loose bits of a puzzle that refused to fit together.

While I tried, a sound caught my attention. To my right, behind the half-open door, I could hear water falling inside the bathroom. The steady stream struck the shower walls and drowned out the rest of the noises. Someone was showering.

My breathing grew deeper, as if my body were trying to ventilate every drop of blood flowing through my veins. I could feel the air coming in slowly through my lungs and leaving even slower, while I tried to calm the confusion swirling in my head.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion. The sun sliding across the wall, the sheet moving softly in time with my chest, the sound of water falling in the bathroom. Every detail hung suspended in a denser kind of time, as if the whole world had decided to take a breath before carrying on.

The water stopped suddenly. There was a moment of silence until I heard the shower screen opening. Then came little taps, bottles opening and closing, the everyday clatter of someone getting ready at the sink.

I stayed motionless, lying there, listening to each of those sounds as if they were setting the rhythm for the scene.

I looked again at the woman sleeping beside me. She was breathing calmly, evenly, completely oblivious to everything happening around her. The sheet had slipped down, exposing a round breast with the nipple still red, marked, as if someone had been biting it for hours. I looked away with a knot in my stomach.

The bathroom door, which had been left half open, finally moved slowly the rest of the way. Hands I didn’t get to see pushed the panel open all the way.

And then she appeared.

She came out wrapped in a white towel that covered her still-wet body. She stopped in the doorway, resting one shoulder there naturally, as if this were the most normal thing in the world.

Her gaze, at first lost somewhere in the room, quickly focused until it met mine. And she smiled.

—Good morning, champ.

Her voice sounded calm, almost amused, while I remained lying there, trying to understand how this morning had just become even more bewildering.

The towel barely covered what it needed to. It clung to her still-damp body, tracing every curve, as if the fabric refused to let go of that silhouette. The steam from the bathroom had followed her into the room, leaving a warm feeling in the air.

Her figure was outlined beneath the white towel. Every movement, however small, made the fabric press a little tighter, hinting at far more than it concealed. I could make out her hard nipples against the cotton and, between her thighs, a dark shadow that the towel barely covered.

There, leaning in the frame with that confident smile, she looked completely in control of the scene.

It was her, my wife, Lorena.

—Lorena?... Fuck, what a headache.

—What do you mean, “Lorena”? Don’t tell me you don’t even know who your wife is anymore...

Her tone mixed irony and curiosity, as if she were enjoying my confusion a little.

I slowly turned my head toward the other woman sleeping beside me. Just then she started to stir, probably woken by our first words. She moved an arm over the sheet and lazily rolled her body over, revealing both her breasts in full, with large brown nipples and a purple hickey right above one of them.

—Fuck!... What happened last night? —I asked.

—You really don’t remember anything? —my wife said, arching one eyebrow slightly.

The woman beside me finished stretching and turned toward us. She blinked a couple of times, still half asleep, until her eyes finally focused.

Then she smiled.

—Good morning, handsome... and good morning, beautiful.

It was Carla. The girl who hated salsa, the one I’d met the night before at the bar in that place. The same woman I’d been talking to while music played and three young guys had their hands all over my wife on the dance floor.

But...

What the hell had happened? What was she doing in our room, with both of us?

I pushed myself up a little, leaning against the headboard while bringing a hand to my forehead. The pain was still there, pounding hard, as if someone were hammering from the inside.

I looked first at Carla, then at Lorena, and then at Carla again.

—Okay... —I muttered. —I think I need a recap.

Lorena gave a short laugh and crossed her arms, still leaning in the doorway. The towel stayed firmly in place, though a few drops of water slid down her shoulders.

—We went out last night —she said. —I’m assuming you can follow me that far.

I closed my eyes for a second, searching through the memories.

Colored lights, music, the bar packed full.

A conversation...

I opened my eyes sharply and pointed at the woman beside me.

—The bar... —I said. —You were at the bar.

Carla smiled amusedly as she settled herself more comfortably in the sheets, in no hurry to cover her breasts.

—Correct, detective —she replied. —I was the girl who hated salsa.

Another flash crossed my mind: laughter, glasses clinking, Lorena dancing on the floor while I talked to Carla.

—But... —I said slowly. —From there to the three of us ending up in our bed are a few intermediate steps.

Lorena moved away from the doorway and walked slowly toward the bed. Each step seemed deliberately unhurried, as if she were savoring the moment.

—There are —she replied. —And they were pretty fun.

She sat on the edge of the mattress, looking at me with an expression somewhere between complicity and mischief.

Carla gave a soft yawn beside me.

—The truth is —she added— last night you were very sure of yourself about everything.

—Sure about what? —I asked.

The two of them looked at each other.

And then Lorena smiled again.

—That it was a great idea to keep partying.

They looked at each other for a second, as if sharing a private memory.

I was still trying to reconstruct the night, but my head felt like a room full of closed doors. I knew the explanation was behind one of them, but I couldn’t find the key.

—Okay... —I said, rubbing my face. —I remember the bar. I remember she hated salsa.

Carla lifted a hand from the bed.

—I still do —she added with a sleepy smile.

—I also remember —I continued— that you, Lorena, were dancing like you were born in Cuba, with those three guys who wouldn’t stop touching you.

—That is objectively true —my wife replied proudly.

Something else surfaced in my mind: the bar crowded with glasses, the laughter, the music too loud.

—We were talking... —I said, looking at Carla. —About travel, maybe?

—About travel, music... and how terrible you were at dancing —she replied.

Lorena gave a short laugh.

—That’s objectively true too.

I stared at the ceiling again, pushing my memory a little further back.

—Then... —I said slowly— you came to the bar, Lorena. And you, Carla, I don’t remember telling you she was my wife.

The two of them nodded.

—And... —I went on— someone ordered another round.

—You did —said Lorena.

—Definitely you —Carla confirmed.

—After that... the memories kind of blur together.

My wife leaned slightly toward me.

—Good. You’re getting some of it back. Remember anything else?

—Not much.

—Nothing?

—Fuck, Lorena, if I remembered I wouldn’t be asking.

—Then you’ve got a lot left to remember. Don’t you remember when I came up to the bar?

Carla, lying on her side to my right, nodded several times as if keeping time with a song only the two of them could hear.

—Yes, that was when the three guys came over to say hello —I said.

—Exactly. And do you remember what I asked you?

Then I looked at Carla, who was waiting for the answer to come out of my mouth even though she knew it perfectly well.

—It was when you whispered in my ear to take her home, and after ordering a couple more drinks you went back to the dance floor with those three.

Carla looked at us and said:

—You assholes, you were fooling me between the two of you. Good thing you cleared it up later.

Lorena turned a little toward her, brushed her arm with her fingers, and looked back at me.

—Yes, I went back to the dance floor and you certainly started having your fun with her —she said.

Images came to my mind in flashes. Lorena in the center, the striped dress clinging to her body with sweat, teasing with every movement. The three young guys circled her like wolves: one in front squeezing her waist, one behind pressed against her body, the third brushing her thighs every time she turned. And she let them. Not just let them —she enjoyed it. She threw her head back, laughed with her mouth open, and every few seconds glanced toward the bar. Toward us, to see what was happening.

Now, in the flash, the guy behind her was shamelessly lifting the hem of her dress and squeezing her ass with both hands, sinking his fingers into the flesh. The one in front had slipped his hand down her neckline and was pulling one breast partly out while she laughed and let herself be groped. Her mouth found the guy’s, and they tangled in a wet, tongue-heavy kiss while the third licked her neck.

—You... —I began, looking at Carla. —Were you kissing my neck?

Carla widened her eyes and let out a laugh.

—Really... what a humiliation. After everything from last night and you barely remember me. —She shook her head, still laughing.— Incredible. And I even sucked you off in the taxi, handsome. With your wife beside us, watching and laughing.

A new flash struck my head like a slap. The back seat of the taxi, the wet street sliding past the window, Lorena on the right with her legs crossed and Carla kneeling between mine, her hair falling over my lap. Her mouth taking my cock all the way in, her tongue circling the head, my wife’s hand stroking the back of her neck like she was petting a cat. “Swallow it all, beautiful, make the bastard cum so he can last longer later.” A muffled groan coming from my own throat and the taxi driver looking in the rearview mirror, jaw hanging loose.

—Fuck... —I murmured. —In the taxi.

—In the taxi —Carla confirmed proudly. —And you didn’t cum at all, huh. You lasted like a champ.

My wife let out another laugh from the edge of the bed.

—Well, we’re in trouble if you already have doubts about that... and that was only the beginning!

The confusion must have been written all over my face. I kept looking from one to the other without fully understanding what had happened the night before. Seeing my expression, they couldn’t stop laughing.

—My God, sweetheart —Lorena said between laughs—. Really nothing at all? Not even the three on the dance floor, not even her? You don’t remember absolutely anything?

—No, fuck, I don’t! —I exclaimed, grabbing my head with both hands. —No! And while we’re at it... what happened with those three?

Lorena shrugged with a mischievous smile.

—Nothing you would’ve objected to.

I looked at her in despair.

—Could you be a bit more specific? Because I’m guessing if you’re here in bed, naked and with me —I said, pointing at Carla— then something must have happened between the two of us.

Carla raised an eyebrow and smiled wickedly. She pulled the sheet all the way away and lay back, her legs slightly open, with zero shame. She slid two fingers between her thighs, lifted them, and showed them to me, glistening.

—See this? That’s your cum, handsome. And I’ve still got more inside. So yes, something did happen between us.

She slowly brought the fingers to her mouth and licked them while staring straight at me.

—And not just once, handsome. Three times. You kept fucking both of us over and over until you barely had anything left. I ended up face down, with my face against the pillow, while your wife opened my ass with her hands so you could shove it in all the way. And on top of that you called me a “whore.” “Dirty whore,” you said. And I kept begging you for more.

—Fuck... —I muttered, feeling how my cock, sore and all, was starting to wake up again under the sheet.

And she laughed again, this time looking at Lorena as if they shared a secret.

My wife chimed in again, still amused.

—Look, sweetheart... you’d better take a shower. Because judging by how you are, I don’t think you’re up for much today. Then the three of us will go grab something to eat and bring you up to speed. —She turned toward the bed.— What do you think, Carla?

—If you don’t mind putting up with me a bit longer... I’m perfectly happy —she replied with a smile.

I threw up my hands in frustration.

—But please... can someone tell me what happened last night? For fuck’s sake. And you —I said, looking at Lorena—, with the guys on the dance floor... did something happen?

Lorena looked at me with a mix of amusement and surprise.

—Me with those three?... Fuck, Marcos.

She smiled slowly, ran her tongue over her upper lip, and lowered her voice.

—Let’s just say one of them fucked me in the ass against the wall of the alley next to the bar while another one was fucking my mouth. And the third one was jerking off watching us. Yeah. Something happened.

The sheet tightened over my crotch. She noticed and smiled wider.

—After that I managed to shake them off and came running back to the bar, with semen still dripping inside my thigh. That’s why the dress looks the way it does. And you and this one were already going at it on the bar. So I grabbed you, shoved you in a taxi, and took you home. And here you still are, not remembering a damn thing.

She got out of bed and walked toward the bathroom.

—Come on, shower... and then we’ll tell you everything. And if you still don’t remember...

She turned back to look at me with a mischievous smile.

—I think I’ve got a video on my phone that might help refresh your memory.

I sat up with some difficulty and, after a moment of hesitation, headed into the bathroom. Each step took a little effort, as if my body were still trying to get on the same page as my head.

As I went in, the first thing I saw was the dress Lorena had worn the night before. It was tossed over the bidet, crumpled, a bit dirty, with several stains I didn’t remember seeing before. I picked it up and brought it to my nose on pure instinct.

It smelled like alcohol, sweat, and something harder to identify. Dried semen. Someone else’s semen, too, not mine. The biggest stain was on the hem, inside, right where the fabric would have brushed her thighs as she walked.

I frowned and dropped it again. That didn’t help clarify anything at all.

I turned on the shower and hot water began to fall over my head and shoulders. I closed my eyes and let the heat run through me. Finally, a sensation that seemed to clear some of the fog.

As I soaped myself, I looked down. And then I noticed it.

It was irritated, sensitive, even a little sore when I brushed against it. The skin on the head was red, the base marked with red fingerprints and nail marks. It looked like it had been through a lot of hands and mouths over the last few hours.

—What the hell...? —I muttered to myself.

The water kept sliding down my back, slowly loosening my muscles, while my mind stubbornly tried to salvage some fragment of that night that seemed to have been erased completely.

I was so absorbed in that useless attempt when, suddenly, I heard the shower screen moving.

It opened. I looked up.

It was her again. Carla.

She appeared in the shower doorway with a calm smile, as if this were the most normal thing in the world. Naked. Big round breasts, with brown nipples still marked from the night before. A small tattoo on her hip. And between her thighs, her shaved cunt, a little swollen, with a thin white trail running down the inner side of her right thigh.

—Do you mind if we shower together? —she asked casually. —It’ll be faster that way. Your wife says she doesn’t mind.

She came into the shower without waiting for an answer and closed the screen behind her. Steam rose instantly. She pressed herself against me, her breasts flattening against my chest while her hand went straight down to my cock, which had been trying to get hard for a while despite the pain.

—Oh... —she said. —Someone remembers more than he’s saying.

She started jerking me off slowly, her palm slippery with soap, sliding the foreskin up and down with vicious calm. I closed my eyes and rested my head against the tile.

—Last night —she whispered in my ear— when I first took you in my mouth in the taxi, you got rock hard in three seconds. And then, in bed, your wife and I sucked you at the same time, remember? Me on the head, her on the balls. You nearly lost it.

As she spoke, she quickened her hand. With the other she grabbed one of my balls and squeezed it gently, teasing it.

—And then you got rough, sweetheart. I’d never seen your wife enjoy herself like that in my life, and that’s saying something, because it gives me life. You put us both on all fours, one next to the other, and you kept sliding your cock from one pussy to the other with barely pulling out. Fucking like an animal.

She turned me against the wall, knelt under the water, and took my cock in her mouth without ceremony. Her tongue working over the head, her lips tight at the base, the back of her throat opening to take me in all the way. One of her fingers slid down, found my asshole, and pressed carefully.

—Fuck —I moaned. —Fuck, fuck.

She pulled her mouth off for a second, my cock pressed against her cheek, and looked up at me from below with shining eyes.

—Let’s see if that helps your memory come back, champ.

And she kept sucking me hard, while I, braced against the tiles, felt the flashes from the night before slowly start clicking into place. The dance floor. The alley. The taxi. The bed. The two of them moaning. Me calling them whores and them begging for more.

From the other side of the screen, I heard Lorena’s voice, calm, almost maternal.

—Good boy, Marcos. Just let go. You still have a lot to remember.