The Pendrive My Wife Left Beside the Sink
Since that card game, we hadn’t brought the subject up again for a long stretch. It wasn’t that we hadn’t enjoyed it; quite the opposite: we simply let it sit and simmer. I suppose it was because the two episodes had been so close together, because we needed time to take in calmly that new intimacy that had opened between us, or because, as I came to fear for weeks, Renata might have regretted it.
Whatever the reason, our relationship didn’t budge an inch and our sex life remained as full as ever. At times, however, I caught her looking at me with a smile she never quite explained, as if she were keeping an idea she still didn’t dare put on the table.
Until one ordinary night arrived.
We were in bed and she was giving me the hottest blowjob I could remember in years. She had settled herself between my spread legs, her loose hair falling over her thighs, and she had my whole cock in her mouth. She took her time, alternating tongue and lips, slowly working her way up until only the glans remained trapped between her teeth, licking it in circles and then taking it to the back of her throat again and again, until the tip brushed her throat and a wet gag slipped out of her that made my legs tremble. Every time I thought I was close, she noticed it in the tension in my belly, eased off, took my cock all the way out of her mouth and held it in her hand, looking at me as she drooled over it and ran the tip across her swollen lips. Then she went down to suck my balls one by one, taking them whole in her mouth, tugging at them with her tongue and looking up at me from down there with a wicked smile before starting all over again. When I couldn’t take any more, when she had me hard as a rock and dripping, she worked her way up my chest with kisses until she was seated astride me, the burning wetness of her cunt resting right on top of my cock. She ground herself slowly, soaking me, looking down at me with half-lidded eyes, and breathed a whisper into me that set my blood on fire.
“Would you like us to invite Iván to dinner again?” she purred, never stopping moving, sliding her soaked cunt along my cock.
I, frozen like an amateur actor with stage fright and my mind completely blank, only managed to answer in the worst possible way: I came early, shooting a long spurt of semen between our bellies, feeling myself empty in uncontrollable spasms while she laughed under her breath and kept rubbing herself against me, smearing her vulva with my cum. Afterward I gave her an awkward kiss, still dazed, and she licked my lower lip without losing her smile.
“I’d dare to say that’s a yes,” she concluded cheerfully, while her index finger scooped up a thread of semen from my abdomen and took it to her mouth, sucking it slowly.
“I thought you’d never ask me again,” I managed to say once I’d recovered a little sanity.
“I didn’t know how you’d take it,” she replied, with her hand already closed again around my half-soft cock, massaging it with the cum still sliding over my skin. “But I see it’s better than I imagined.”
It took her less than a minute to get me hard again with her wrist and the hot spit she let drip down from above. She sat back on me, guided my cock with her hand, and impaled herself on it in one sharp motion, all the way to the hilt, drawing a rough groan from both of us. We fucked like that, with her riding me slowly, up and down, tightening her cunt on every drop, until she came astride me, biting her lip, and I finished inside her again, this time calmly, thrusting from below.
***
We argued about when it could be, but not how. Locking ourselves into too rigid a plan could only bring disappointment, and experience had taught us that letting the situation unfold was always the best idea. In the end we chose the Friday of the following week: I had a work meeting in the afternoon, which would give Renata plenty of time to prepare everything without rushing.
She would be the one to let Iván know. We took it for granted that he’d have no objections; we’d known him for years, and the rapport between the three of us had been woven slowly, without forcing anything. That night I slept relatively well, though I woke up aroused and with my head full of positions, dynamics, things I wanted to try. I had no idea how far all of that was from happening the way I imagined it.
***
On the appointed Friday, the day at the office started in a brutal frenzy. I kept glancing at the clock in the corner of my computer screen, wishing the hours would pass faster. But after lunch, my boss dropped the bomb: the five o’clock meeting was postponed until seven.
It felt like a bucket of cold water. I called Renata to let her know I’d be getting home later than planned. She brushed it off and replied in a voice packed with promises, telling me not to worry, that dinner wouldn’t go cold. That lifted my mood immediately, though inside I already felt a knot of impatience.
The meeting turned out to be one of the worst ordeals I can remember. We went round in circles without getting anywhere near an agreement, repeating the same arguments over and over. I checked the time every five minutes, desperate, and it didn’t look like it would ever end.
At around nine, defeated, I texted my wife saying they should eat without me and I’d join them as soon as I could. I felt awful for her and, above all, for myself, because I knew it was more than likely that the main course of the night would be cancelled. But I was trapped in that room, and there was no way out.
Near ten, my boss suggested we call home to warn them that things were going to take a while longer. As if I didn’t already know that. I phoned Renata; she said she’d caught them finishing the second course. I told her the situation, asked her to apologize to Iván for me and to beg him to put it off for another day.
“Relax, come on,” she said, with an odd calm. “I’ll take care of the apologies.”
I thanked her and hung up, frustrated, not suspecting a thing in that strangely calm tone of hers.
***
Finally, at about one thirty in the morning and with everything only half resolved, I left the office. I thought about calling to let her know I was on my way, but I was afraid of waking her and simply sent her a message saying I was heading home. I drove there in a foul mood, cursing my boss’s mother at every traffic light, taking meager comfort in the idea that there would be another chance.
When I came in, the house was dark and silent, except for a steady breathing coming from our bedroom. I was surprised to find that Renata was already in bed, but I assumed that after the letdown she hadn’t felt like waiting up for me.
I left my keys in the entryway, peeled off my office clothes in the living room until I was down to my underwear, and went into the bathroom to brush my teeth. What a surprise it was to switch on the light and discover, set beside the sink, a small box with a pendrive inside and a yellow Post-it stuck to the lid.
Just one word written in her handwriting: “Play me.”
***
I froze, toothbrush still in my hand. All of it was far too cryptic for two in the morning. For a moment fatigue almost convinced me to ignore it and crawl into bed, but curiosity, that sickly curiosity that has never left me in peace, won out by far.
I went out of the bathroom barefoot, fumbled in the dark for the USB port on the living-room television, and sank into the sofa before switching on the screen. The brightness stabbed my eyes for a second. The file explorer left no room for doubt: a single folder with a single document that, from its name and extension, I immediately knew was a video.
I pressed play with my heart pounding against my ribs.
The framing was fixed. In the image I immediately recognized our bed, seen from the side, cropped across by the width of the mattress and above by the headboard. A flickering light, which I assumed came from a couple of candles on the bedside table, drew warm shadows and bathed the room in a soft glow. A faint static noise, mixed with distant, unintelligible conversation, broke the stillness of the scene.
She recorded it. She recorded it for me.
“Bruno says the meeting’s going to run late and to apologize on his behalf,” my wife’s voice was finally heard clearly—“he won’t be able to make it, basically.”
“Well, that’s a real shame,” Iván replied, in a contrite tone that sounded sincere to me. “You’re missing a wonderful dinner. I didn’t know you cooked so well.”
“No,” Renata answered, laden with mischief. “But you know how good I am at other things.”
The line produced a thick silence that she herself took it upon herself to break.
“Don’t play clueless now, come on. You knew perfectly well what you were coming for tonight. You knew you were going to end up with my cunt on your face.”
“Well, but without him here… I don’t know, I feel weird about it,” Iván replied, hesitating.
“Exactly for that reason. We’ll have to make it up to him somehow, don’t you think? And I’m sure he’s going to love the surprise. Come on, get in and lie down. And take your cock out already, you’ve been hiding that bulge all through dinner and I can’t stand it anymore.”
Renata’s voice suddenly sounded much closer to the microphone, just before two figures burst into frame. I recognized our guest’s face as he rested his head on my pillow and laid his arms across his abdomen, visibly tense. I swallowed in the darkness of the living room, unable to move.
My wife’s waist suddenly filled the foreground, blocking the camera as she busied herself unfastening her companion’s jeans until she could pull them down, dragging his briefs off with a yank as well. The garment and she herself slipped out of the image for a second, leaving as the sole protagonist of the shot Iván’s nervous nakedness, his hard cock laid against his belly, thick, the tip already shiny, and his chest rising and falling with each increasingly agitated breath.
And then, in a matter of a few seconds that felt to me like hours, the reason for that broken breathing came back into frame. Renata, wearing nothing but a clip holding her hair in a messy bun, climbed onto the bed on all fours. She slowly climbed up his legs until she positioned her face at the level of his navel, pausing there, stretching out the moment, with Iván’s cock brushing her cheek.
“You didn’t think I was going to skip dessert, did you?” she said, then turned her face to drive her dark eyes straight into the camera lens.
She was looking at me. Through the screen, through the hours separating us, she was looking for me. She held the gaze for one endless second and then, without looking away, lowered her head and swallowed it whole in one go, until her nose hit Iván’s pubis and he let out a choked gasp that came through the speaker with perfect clarity. She stayed there a few seconds, his cock buried in her throat, and I could see her moving her tongue around it without taking it out, her cheeks puffing each time he bucked against her mouth.
When she finally pulled it out, a long thread of saliva hung from her lip to the glans. She took it in her hand and started stroking it slowly while she licked his balls, first one and then the other, taking them whole into her mouth like she did with me, tugging them upward with her mouth until Iván lifted his hips off the bed. Then she traced the thick vein running beneath his cock, running her tongue flat in a slow lick, and took it back to the hilt. She spit on the glans, spread the saliva with a closed fist and went back down with her mouth, and then again and again, until the room filled with a wet sound, stifled gagging, and Iván’s rough moans. I, on the sofa, had already slipped my hand into my underwear without even noticing.
Iván tried to say something to her, to warn her, but Renata didn’t let up. On the contrary, she settled herself, dug her nails into his thighs, and sped up, sucking faster and faster, looking at the camera again at the exact moment he grabbed the back of her neck with both hands and started to come. I watched his cheeks swell, watched a jet escape from the corner of her mouth, and watched her, without taking it out, swallow everything he was shooting into her throat. When he finally let her go, she pulled back slowly, opened her mouth to show what was left inside and swallowed it with a slow gesture, for the camera, for me.
“This is just to get you hot, baby,” she said, licking her lips. “We still have a long night ahead.”
She turned her back to the lens, climbed onto him on all fours, and sat her ass on his face without asking permission. Iván didn’t hesitate: he buried his hands in her ass cheeks, spread them apart, and started eating her pussy from below, with a hunger evident in every movement of his neck. I could clearly see how his tongue went in and out of her, how he rose to lick her ass and came back down, how Renata ground herself against his mouth, moving her hips in circles, resting her hands on his abdomen, her tits swaying and her eyes closed. At one point she leaned forward and caught Iván’s cock again, already hard once more, and started sucking it in a furious sixty-nine, biting the pillow between moan after moan when his tongue found her clit.
She came like that, over his face, pressing his head between her thighs, shouting “I’m coming, I’m coming” so loud it echoed through the living room and made me squeeze my cock harder. When she pulled away, Iván had his chin shining wet and he was smiling like an idiot, wiping himself with the back of his hand.
Renata turned around, crawled until she was seated astride him, and, never taking her eyes off the camera, grabbed his cock with her hand, placed it at the entrance of her cunt, and lowered herself slowly, very slowly, until she had him all the way inside. She let out a long moan, threw her head back, and started moving. At first in circles, biting her lip, bracing her hands on his chest. Then up and down, faster and faster, her tits bouncing, the wet sound of their bodies slapping together filling the room. Iván grabbed her waist with both hands and helped her rise and fall, driving up into her from below, and from time to time he gave her an ass slap that cracked like a whip.
They changed position. She got on all fours, her face turned toward the camera, and he positioned himself behind her, gripped her hips, and rammed himself back inside her in one single thrust. He fucked her hard, with no care at all, her buttocks trembling with each impact, and she never stopped looking at me, looking at the lens, mouth open and eyes half-lidded, biting the sheet between thrusts. At one point he gathered her hands behind her back, held them like reins and accelerated even more, growling, and she moaned my name. My name. Not his. Mine. That made me clench my teeth on the sofa.
***
The video went on and on. Renata took her time with him just as she did with me, teasing him, keeping him on the edge, and pulling away, playing with his impatience the only way she knew how. She let herself be fucked from the side, with one leg in the air, with his fingers rubbing her clit in time with the thrusts. She got on top again and came again, trembling, squeezing her cunt around his cock until he could take no more and told her to move. She stepped off in time, knelt between his legs and opened her mouth, sticking out her tongue just as Iván shook himself over her with his hand and shot stream after stream of semen over her face, her tongue, her tits. She received it with her eyes closed and a smile, and when he finished, she turned back toward the camera with cum dripping down her chin, and blew me a kiss full of semen.
From time to time she turned her head back toward the camera, checking that I was still there, reminding me that all of it belonged to me even if it had happened without me.
When the screen finally went black, I realized my wife had not regretted a thing. Quite the opposite. While I was wasting away in a meeting room, she had turned my absence into the most twisted, most exciting gift anyone had ever given me. I had myself come twice in my underwear without being able to stop it, my hand inside there and my mouth open against the back of the sofa.
I turned off the TV, took out the pendrive and clenched it in my fist. I walked down the dark hallway to our bedroom. Renata was lying on her side, or so she pretended, her breathing too measured to be real. I slid under the sheets and pressed my body to hers. She was naked, warm, and smelled of recent soap.
“Did you watch it?” she murmured without opening her eyes, in the hoarse voice of someone who’d been waiting for that question for a while.
“I watched it,” I answered against her nape, my heart still racing, pressing her ass against my cock, which was already hard for the third time.
She turned slowly to face me. In the dimness I could barely make out the shine of her eyes, but I felt them looking for me the same way they had in the recording. She slipped a hand between us, grabbed my cock, and smiled when she felt it like that.
“This is only the first part,” she whispered, guiding it downward, spreading her legs so I’d slide it in at once. “Next time I don’t want you to miss it.”
