I Planned Everything So He’d See Me with Another Man

It all started with a message I sent at seven in the morning, one he left on read until noon. “I want to see you,” I wrote. “Me too,” he replied five hours later, and with that the conversation was over. We’d gone months without touching each other, and I was dragging around a buildup of need I no longer knew where to keep.

I knew finding a slot in his schedule would be impossible that season, so I grabbed my phone and started going through the messages I’d left sitting there. There were emails from people who wanted to meet me. I ruled most of them out. Accepted a couple. Nothing that truly moved me.

That was when I decided to accept Andrés’s invitation, an old, dearly loved friend. “Let’s grab a coffee,” he’d written, and we both knew the coffee was only the excuse. I felt like a traitor. I nearly canceled more than once, nearly begged him again to give me an afternoon. I even dreamed I ran into him on the way there and he kissed me like he used to. But it was only a dream.

“Good morning, I miss you,” I insisted one morning. Nothing. I could see he was online, knew he was talking to other women while leaving me in silence. Sadness gave way to spite, and spite, as everyone knows, pushes you into rash decisions. So I settled it: I was going to enjoy myself with someone else.

That afternoon I dressed to provoke. A barely there little number with just a tiny flower on the front, a bra so thin it showed the shape of my nipples, a black lace blouse and a wine-colored skirt that barely covered me. I pulled on high-heeled boots and wore my hair loose, black and wild down to the middle of my back. Before leaving I sent him another message: “Baby, I miss you, I want to see you.” The reply came almost instantly: “Me too, but you see I don’t have time.” I swallowed hard and walked out steady.

Andrés was waiting for me at a food place in a nearby square. When he saw me arrive he opened his arms and gave me a warm hug, the kind no one had given me in a long time. Then he looked at me slowly, lingering a second too long on my nipples outlined under the fabric. We sat down and the conversation flowed on its own, light and fun.

I was enjoying the food and his company when my eyes stumbled onto a scene that froze me. He was walking into the place arm in arm with a much younger girl. She was hanging off his elbow and resting her head on his shoulder, and he was looking at her the same way he had looked at me so long ago. Something burned inside me.

I don’t know what face I made, but Andrés got worried and asked if I was okay. I tried to pull myself together and wasn’t fast enough. I got up with the excuse of going to the bathroom. My ears were ringing, my head was spinning, and the knot I’d been carrying in my stomach wouldn’t let me breathe anymore. I nearly ran to the restroom, but I didn’t go unnoticed: he had seen me.

Locked inside a stall, I swallowed my rage and my jealousy. It took me a few minutes to calm the storm. When I came out, more composed, I forced myself to remember that I was doing exactly the same thing: having dinner with another man and fully intending to have a good night. I looked toward his table and our eyes met. What he read in mine made it clear to him that I had come up with something, and that this time he might not be invited. He looked away, pretending to read the menu.

I went back to Andrés, smiled at him and apologized for the delay. I made up a weak excuse that was enough to calm him down. I stroked his hand like it was nothing and steered the conversation toward more interesting territory. Without intending to, the talk started filling with innuendo and knowing smiles. From the next table over I could feel a look loaded with questions, and that turned me on even more.

***

Andrés understood the signals and kissed me with the appetite he’d been holding back for so long. He tasted my lips slowly, wrapped his arms around my waist, and I pressed my body against his. He tasted different; it wasn’t him. He had another flavor, neither better nor worse, just different. Even so, I enjoyed it, knowing that from the other table not a single detail was being missed.

Andrés’s hand started to play between my legs. I opened them just a little to make his path easier, and his fingers found the string, ridiculous and useless for covering anything. I was already wet, my legs sticky and needy. In the middle of a stifled moan I managed to ask, “What if we go somewhere else?”

“Let’s go,” he replied, breaking the kiss.

By then we weren’t the only ones onstage. Several people were watching us: some curious, some turned on, some uncomfortable. Andrés asked for the check barely holding himself together. The gentlemanly friend from a while ago had disappeared; a couple of kisses had set him on fire. He caressed my arms, my bare legs, brushed my breasts as if by accident.

I needed a minute to think, so I excused myself again and walked slowly toward the bathroom. Before I could go in, a hand gripped me hard. I recognized the touch and the scent of his cologne without needing to turn around. When I did, I expected to find the cold look he wore when he was angry; instead there was a strange fire in his eyes, the same one that only appeared when he was at the edge of arousal.

“What exactly are you doing?” he asked.

“What are you talking about? I came to eat with a friend,” I answered, pretending to be carefree.

“Do you kiss your friends like that and let them put their hand on you?”

“I think by now you don’t have any right to complain to me about anything,” I told him, and it sounded more like a reproach than I meant it to.

I tried to go into the bathroom, but he didn’t let me off that easily. “I’m not complaining,” he murmured, and his hand slid up to one of my breasts to pinch my hardened nipple. “Are you going to save me a video?”

“Maybe. Even a video call, if I have time. You know how it is, sometimes one is sooo busy she forgets,” I lied. I knew perfectly well the night was going to be long.

Minutes later we were leaving the place. As we passed his table, he slipped me a folded napkin. I tucked it into my bag without looking at it and left hand in hand with Andrés.

***

“Let’s go to my place,” I told him once I was settled in his car.

“Are you sure?” he asked, diving back into my mouth.

“Absolutely sure,” I replied, and put my hand over his crotch. I felt him hard under his pants and bit my lip. I lowered the zipper, freed him, and while he started the car, I bent down. A tongue piercing and a lot of saliva work wonders. I made slow circles, let the strands slide along the shaft, helped with my hand. Andrés moaned and parked a few blocks away, unable to drive and hold on at the same time.

He grabbed my hair to set the rhythm, pushing me against his belly until he made me arch. I pulled back just enough to take a breath and went down again. I stopped him before he came; I still didn’t want that. That was when I noticed my blouse was missing buttons: in the struggle he had torn them off and it barely covered me. A cold breeze slipped through the half-open window and raised goose bumps on my skin. He brought his mouth to my breasts, kissed them, licked them, and ended up sucking hard. It hurt and I liked it at the same time. Purple marks started blooming on my skin: he was marking me.

***

We got to my house breathing hard. While he parked, I found the crumpled napkin in my bag. I unfolded it: “Don’t forget the video.” He knew how much he liked seeing me with other men. Andrés was so worked up he wasn’t going to object to anything I asked.

We got out and, as soon as I opened the door, he pinned me against the hallway wall. It was dark and late; I figured the neighbors were already asleep. He lifted my skirt, my bare breasts felt the cold, and I moaned. I heard him struggling with his belt: he wanted to take me right there. A couple more tries and he did it. With my cheek pressed to the wall, I felt him enter in one stroke, all the way in. I covered my mouth so I wouldn’t make a sound and he started pounding into me.

“Better let’s go inside,” I asked, but he was only thinking about keeping going. A noise pulled me out of it: someone was peeking out from a neighboring balcony. I couldn’t tell who it was, but we had an audience. “Inside, please, they’re watching us.”

Andrés looked up, saw the voyeur, and far from being embarrassed, gave him a smile and waved in greeting. Then he helped me arrange my blouse and skirt, and we went in.

***

I offered him a drink. While he made himself comfortable on the sofa and put on music, I slipped into the bedroom under the pretext of changing clothes. Andrés had shown himself dominant, and that fit perfectly with the idea taking shape in my head. I took a couple of toys from a drawer and, before going back out, sent a short message: “Come play with us or you’re going to miss out.” A few seconds later: “Is that an invitation?” I answered with a little devil emoji.

I took my time putting on a red lace bodysuit, counting the minutes so he’d have time to get there. When I came out, Andrés was already on his second drink. He looked me over from head to toe, took my hand and pulled me to him. I sat on top of him, wrapped my legs around him and kissed him slowly, deeply, with tongue, trying to push him to the edge, to make him stop thinking.

I slowly pushed him back until he was lying down and kissed his body, licked every inch of him, went down his chest leaving a wet trail and came back up just as I reached his stomach. I could feel his desperation and I smiled. When he couldn’t take it anymore, he grabbed my hair and forced me to kneel in front of him. He pinched my nose, waiting for the moment I opened my mouth to breathe, and took the opportunity to slide himself all the way in. I started sucking.

He tugged my hair, demanding I look him in the eyes. Tears slipped out on their own when I felt him hit the back of my throat. Instead of easing off, he pushed farther, until I was pressed against his belly. I tried to pull away and couldn’t; in my desperation I dug my nails into his thighs and left red lines on him. He tensed, let out a curse, and came in my mouth, with a taste halfway between bitter and salty.

***

While he caught his breath, I went for the red bag where I kept the ropes and the rest of the toys. “Want to play?” I asked, dangling a pair of handcuffs.

“Play what?” he replied, straightening up.

“I’m going to be your submissive and you can use me however you want,” I smiled, sitting on top of him. I bit his ear and kissed his neck. “But there’s one condition: in a few minutes someone’s going to arrive. You’re going to go out and open the door for him, and invite him in. You can tie me up, put whatever you want from the bag on me and use it with me however you like. You’re going to be my master tonight; the one who’s coming will only be able to do to me what you allow him to do. Are you in?”

The gleam in his eyes said it all. He didn’t quite understand what the game was about, but the idea of being in charge lit him up.

Laid face down on the rug, I let him tie my hands and feet. His knots were clumsy, but he was making an effort. As he tied my arms behind my back I felt his erection dripping over my ass; I moved against him, rubbing myself, and he hardened again. He put a ring in my mouth to keep it open and, when he fastened it behind my head, I understood I wouldn’t be able to take it off. Then he blindfolded me. With my eyes covered I wouldn’t know who was touching me.

I felt a cold tip pressing against my back entrance. It was tight and resisting; a little saliva made things easier. When it gave way, a familiar pain shot through my legs. By the size, I guessed which toy he’d chosen. He amused himself sliding it in and out, stretching me patiently, enjoying every moan he wrung from me.

***

A message on my phone distracted him. I knew what it said. Mumbling as best I could around the ring, I warned him: “The guest has arrived.”

He got to his feet right away, got dressed half way and went out shirtless. A little later I heard him enter, looking for me with his eyes, confused that Andrés was the one greeting him at the door. He sized him up from head to toe.

“Come in, she’s waiting for you,” Andrés said.

“Where’s Lara?” he asked, uneasy, not seeing me because one of the sofas was blocking me.

A few moans led him in. He went around the sofa and found me face down, tied hand and foot, wearing the red bodysuit. He didn’t need an explanation: he knew my games by heart. He crouched beside me and ran his hands over me with trembling fingers. I couldn’t see him, but I imagined his clouded stare. A slap on my ass made me jump, then another, and another.

Andrés watched from standing, not quite knowing what to do. At last, in a roughened voice, he said, “Want to play with her?”

“What?” the other man replied, standing up.

“I don’t think she explained the rules to you. You can fuck her, but only when I say so. Sound good?”

He didn’t understand why he suddenly had such limited access to my body, when he had always been the only owner. I couldn’t help smiling behind the ring. I writhed as if I wanted to break free, and Andrés stood in front of me with a soft slap. “Stay still,” he ordered. I obeyed.

“You can touch her,” he allowed. Those hands I knew so well started roaming over my legs. Feeling four hands at once was driving me crazy; I moved my hips, trying to get one of them to my crotch, but the game was no longer just mine.

Some clothes fell near my face; by the scent I knew they were his. Lips traced me from my ass to my feet. I circled my hips, futilely searching for something that would fill me. I felt his hard, wet flesh pushing between my ass cheeks, his ragged breath on my back.

“No, not yet,” Andrés stopped him.

“Why? She’s wet and ready.”

“Not yet. Let me get under her first.”

I was lifted like a doll and a body slid beneath mine. An erection sank into my soaked sex all at once and a long moan slipped from me as I molded to it. Riding on Andrés, ass in the air and tied up, there was little I could do to stop him from taking over my other hole. Not that I wanted to stop him.

They started moving at the same time, thrusting as if they wanted to split me open from the inside. “Spank her,” Andrés said. I felt him reach toward the red bag and, a second later, the sharp crack of a paddle against my thigh. I yelped, more from surprise than pain. “Harder,” Andrés asked, and the paddle came down again. A delicious sting made me wet even more.

“She likes it,” he said hoarsely. “Wait, take photos of her.” He pulled back for a moment and I heard him rummaging through his clothes. Even with my eyes covered I caught the flash of the camera. They entertained themselves photographing me from every angle, stuffing me with dildos and vibrators of different sizes, making me scream and drool. Andrés went to town on my nipples with clamps, slowly squeezing my swollen, aching breasts.

“Put it in her mouth, now I’m taking the photos,” Andrés ordered. His cock slid into my mouth the way he liked it, hard and all the way in, slap after slap until tears spilled out. His hand in my hair wouldn’t let me pull away. When they got tired of the photos, Andrés finally buried himself in me. He grabbed my ass and started pounding me hard, bit my back, pinched my thighs, groaning like an animal. “Choke her,” he said, and I gagged on my own saliva while the other man filled my throat. Andrés finished inside me and collapsed onto the rug, puffing.

He was still in my mouth and, when he wanted to move to my sex, Andrés stopped him dead. “No. Fuck the other side. This is mine.” He stayed still for a few seconds; he had never taken me after another man had finished inside me. I would have given anything to see his face. In the end desire won out over pride. He entered slowly, helped by what Andrés had left, and the rhythm turned into a dull collision of skin against skin.

I knew him too well: from his trembling I knew he was close. His fingers dug into my ass, his hand yanked my hair arching me back, and with a guttural moan he came. He collapsed over my back, kissing me slowly while his muscles loosened one by one.

I cleaned him with my tongue and kissed his stomach. I rested my head on his chest, as I had so many other times, and sighed. I dozed for a few minutes between the two of them. Laughter woke me: they were talking animatedly, commenting on the night like lifelong friends. They had exchanged photos and videos, and were already working out the next time they’d both have me.