My Confession: What I Discovered in Our First Threesome

I’m not sure whether what I’m going to tell you happened only to me or whether there are more men who have gone through the same thing. That’s why I’m writing it. I need to know I’m not the only one who discovered this in himself, and that the confession I’m about to make isn’t as strange as it feels to me.

My name is Martín, I’m 39, and I’m in a relationship with Carla, who is 35. She’s dark-haired, with straight hair down to her shoulders, about 5'6", and she has a body that still drives me crazy after twelve years together: neither skinny nor thick, with big breasts that are the first thing any man looks at and a firm ass that goes with them. I still want her as much as I did on day one, and I guess that’s exactly why everything that comes after makes sense.

We had spent months fantasizing about trying something new. The idea of a threesome with another man was both of ours: she said it out loud on a Sunday night; I had imagined it a thousand times without ever saying it. After several long conversations, we ended up inviting Bruno, a coworker we both trusted and someone Carla had looked at more than once without telling me.

The first night was everything we expected, and then some. Carla ended up in the middle of the bed, and he and I took turns fucking her in every position we could think of. While one of us held her by the hips, the other got one of those blowjobs only she knows how to give, with her tongue attentive and her eyes looking up. I knew her by heart, but seeing her like that, split between the two of us, was a new version of my wife that I struggled to recognize. At one point we penetrated her at the same time, her in front, him in back, and I’d never heard her scream like that. She asked for more without asking, just pressing herself against us.

The end came, and that’s when what wasn’t in the script happened.

Bruno had her on all fours, pounding her harder and harder. Carla’s breasts shook with every thrust and she moaned with her face pressed into the pillow. I heard him grunt, she answered with a muffled cry, and a second later everything went silent. He had come inside her, without warning anyone.

When it was my turn, I got behind her almost by instinct. But as I pressed the head of my cock against her cunt, I saw the warm semen Bruno had left leaking out, slowly running down her thigh. I stared at it. I don’t know how to describe what I felt. It wasn’t disgust, it wasn’t jealousy. It was something else.

And then I did something I don’t regret.

I put both hands on her ass and lowered my head. Slowly, almost as if I wanted to test whether I was capable, I traced with my tongue the path the semen had left and, without thinking any further, I got it all. I swallowed it. Every last drop coming out of her.

When I подняв the head, they both looked at me as if they didn’t recognize me.

—What did you do? —Carla said, with a smile that wasn’t reproachful.

—I don’t know —I answered, and it was true—. Curiosity got the better of me.

Bruno let out a low laugh. Carla kissed me and kept kissing me while I slid into her. I fucked that night like never before, with a new fire, and I came inside her just like he had. I didn’t swallow my own. It was too much, even for that strange night.

***

Seven days later, we did it again.

This time I already knew where it would end. And so did he. Bruno fucked her first, came inside her again, and immediately motioned to me with his head, as if inviting me. I knelt between Carla’s legs and licked her clean. She watched me from above, propped on her elbows, with a face that mixed surprise and excitement.

—You like it —she said, not as a question.

—A lot —I admitted.

But that night there was something else. When I got up from between her legs, Bruno was still off to one side, his cock half-hard, still shining. He looked at me straight on and didn’t need to say a word. He pointed to it with his hand, almost asking permission, almost giving an order.

I knelt in front of him as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

I took his cock in my hand, brought it to my mouth, and started sucking him the same way I had seen Carla do it a hundred times. I remembered every one of her movements: tongue over the head, hand at the base, steady breathing so I wouldn’t gag. Carla watched us without saying a word, slowly masturbating on the bed.

That night, for the first time in my life, I swallowed another man’s warm, thick semen straight from his cock. And I liked it.

***

The third encounter was different from the start. There was no shame anymore, no preliminaries, no excuses. Bruno came to the house, we opened a bottle of wine, and before the first glass was finished, Carla was on her knees in the living room sucking both of us.

The scene burned itself into my mind: her in the middle, him on one side, me on the other, both cocks at her mouth level, and sometimes our tips touching because she wanted them together. And then, without thinking too much about it, I sucked him too. Him, with her beside me, both tongues on the same dick. Carla gave a short laugh when our mouths crossed.

—This is new —she murmured—. I love it.

In bed, the rules fell away one by one. Bruno fucked her while I, lying on top, let her suck me. When he stopped to catch his breath, I shifted over to his side and put his cock in my mouth to keep it hard and wet. Carla licked me. It was a three-way dance where nobody was leading anymore, and nobody needed to.

Until Bruno leaned toward me and whispered in my ear what, deep down, I had been waiting to hear.

—Want to try?

I didn’t answer with words. I got on all fours on the bed, rested my hands on the mattress, and lowered my chest. Carla came closer, kissed me on the cheek, and without saying anything, licked me from below. I felt her warm tongue working its way in, preparing me patiently, and that gesture of hers, that care, was what finally made me relax. She knew exactly what I needed: for my woman to prepare me for another man, for the first touch to be hers. I closed my eyes and let her do it.

When Bruno started pushing into me, I felt pain. I said so, we endured it, little by little. He breathed with me, pushing in millimeter by millimeter, until suddenly the pain gave way and what came after I’ll never forget. He fucked me the way he fucked Carla: gripping my shoulders, climbing over me, pounding into me with real hunger. I started moaning without recognizing my own voice.

That night he didn’t come inside my woman. He came inside me.

And it was Carla who knelt afterward and, looking me in the eyes, cleaned me the same way I had cleaned her the first time. She swallowed everything. She was smiling as she did it.

***

Without even realizing it, we went from being a heterosexual couple to something else. Bisexual, I suppose. Carla never touched another woman, so in her case that’s debatable. But I did, I changed. And the strange thing is it wasn’t a crisis: it was a relief. As if a part of me that had been shut away for years had opened the door without asking permission.

A few weeks later we set up a foursome. Carla wanted to bring in a new friend, Lucas, a guy from the gym she had her eye on. Bruno had no problem with it. Neither did I. The buildup was long: Carla and I, both of us on our knees, sucking both of them at the same time, switching cocks every so often, looking at each other with a complicity we used to save only for when we were alone.

In bed, they took turns with us. They fucked Carla and me in parallel, and sometimes swapped us around. She and I kissed while they thrust into us from behind, our faces pressed together, each of us moaning our own way. At the end they brought us both to the edge of the bed and came over our mouths at the same time. I took it on my face, on my lips, on my tongue. Carla did too. Then we kissed like that, filthy, laughing like kids.

I became addicted. I know that’s an ugly word, but I can’t find another. I don’t consider myself gay, because I still desire my woman with the same intensity as always. But something in the taste, in the submission, in the absolute trust it takes to let yourself be used like that, calls to me in a way I can no longer ignore.

That’s why I’m here confessing it. Has this happened to any of you? Have you dared to try another man’s semen while being straight? Have you ever enjoyed being passive? I need to read you. I need to confirm that I’m not alone in this, that this confession I’m struggling to put my name to isn’t some freakish thing, that there are others who also discovered, on some random night, that desire doesn’t have the limits they were taught.