My Husband and His Partner Had It All Planned

Carla has been a friend of mine since school. Her birthday is just a few days after mine, and we’re both already around fifty-four. Life was unkind to her: she was widowed during the pandemic and, sometime later, met Mauricio, who was her partner for almost three years.

When they split up, I did everything I could to help Carla rebuild her life. But Mauricio had stayed so close to us that he became part of the family, especially my husband’s. He sold for a food distribution company, a warm man with an easy laugh, one of those people who walk into a house and fill it up.

Around that same time, Mauricio proposed that Diego and I go into business together: a gluten-free gourmet foods shop. We had our logistics company, things were going well, and the investment seemed profitable. So we agreed. Mauricio would be the manager, I would handle administration, and Diego would take care of suppliers, because his job kept him out of town for weeks at a time.

Before we started, we asked both of them whether it bothered them that we would stay tied to one another after the breakup. Carla preferred to step aside, but she gave us her blessing.

One afternoon, while we were having mate in my office and I was encouraging her to open an account on some dating app, Carla started showing me photos. Among them was one of Mauricio that stayed burned into my mind. It had been taken from below and showed something as ugly as it was beautiful: a dick not very long, but of monstrous thickness, with a thick vein running from the swollen head to the base, the heavy balls hanging beneath it like two ripe fruits.

I shouldn’t be looking at this, I thought. But I kept looking. I felt a pull between my legs, a wet tingling that hadn’t visited me with that intensity in years. My nipples tightened against my bra.

***

The shop was due to open soon, so Mauricio came to the house often. Since he lived more than an hour away, sometimes he stayed over on the couch. We were like siblings. We really were.

One night, before dinner, I got lost in my thoughts, staring at him without really looking at him, lost in that photo. A gesture from him brought me back, as if asking what was wrong. I smiled and changed the subject. But something had been lit, and I knew it.

My body was carrying the effects of menopause in those months, and every now and then my uterus would answer with terrible pain. One of those attacks hit me right when Diego traveled abroad for an entire week. On his nightly call, he sounded worried, and before hanging up he asked Mauricio to stay with me so I wouldn’t be alone.

Our friend agreed without hesitation. That night he took care of me with a tenderness that undid me: warm compresses, a painkiller, herbal tea, dinner ready. Later, a hot bath, pajamas, and bed, which was where I handled the pain best. I fell asleep right away while he washed the dishes and watched television in the living room.

Every so often I could feel him open the bedroom door to see whether I was all right. Late at night I felt it again, but this time it didn’t close. I checked quickly in my head whether I looked presentable and, with my eyes closed, waited. I felt him lie down beside me, dressed, his chest against my back, his heat at my waist. I wasn’t scared. We were both clothed. It was a gesture of companionship, I told myself, and the painkillers carried me back to sleep.

I woke later than usual, pain-free and with breakfast served in bed. I felt like a queen.

***

That night the pain came back, though milder, and Mauricio repeated the care. Only this time he got into bed with me from the start. Things were getting strange, but I thought I could handle it. What I couldn’t handle was the curiosity: knowing he was a few inches away, with that image circling in my head.

—Do you mind if I take off my street clothes? I’ve had the same ones on for two days —he said.

I offered him something of Diego’s to wear after showering, but he preferred to stay in his boxers and curl up against me again, asking how I was feeling. A few minutes later I felt him come alive against my ass. A hard, thick cock, pushing through the thin fabric of my pajamas, letting me feel every inch of its thickness between my cheeks.

—You’re not going to fuck me, are you —I said, half joking, although my cunt was already getting wet.

He blushed, apologized, embarrassed, and the two of us ended up laughing. Between conversation and a movie we fell asleep. The next morning, fully recovered, I went to work and he went to his, as if nothing had happened.

***

Diego came back on Sunday and Mauricio left on the road for a week. Those were some of the few days my husband and I spent alone: we went out to eat, went to the beach, walked in the park. But something in me was no longer the same, and I didn’t know how to name it.

The following Saturday Mauricio came back, and Diego was leaving that same afternoon to coordinate a weekend excursion. I’ll admit it: I had missed our friend. While the men chatted, I did my usual Saturday thing: cleaning the house, dressed like a bum, in old soccer shorts and a hole-ridden T-shirt.

As evening fell and I finished the chore, I took a long hot bath and put on another face: a white chiffon dress, sandals, no bra, a little makeup, and my best perfume. I decided to cook pasta with boscaiola sauce and forget about business for a while.

We were chatting in the kitchen when Mauricio picked up an apron and handed it to me. Innocently —I swear— I turned around so he could tie it behind my back. And then I felt it: he pressed his whole body against my ass.

—Again —I said, reminding him of that line from the bed.

—Shhh —he whispered in my ear, and instead of stopping he pushed harder, until he had me trapped against the counter.

It was very hard to resist that sensation, knowing that in a matter of minutes I was going to lose control. I know myself. A slow swaying started that drove me crazy, and I myself pushed my hip out, looking for the next brush of that hard cock against the cleft of my ass. My breathing grew heavy. He spoke to me softly in my ear, dirty words that melted me: whore, my whore, how you drive me insane, how bad you want this dick, say it.

He slid both hands through the loose sleeve of the dress and started massaging my breasts. My nipples burned, standing up between his fingers, thick and hard. He pinched them, stretched them, squeezed them until I moaned. One hand went down, lifted my dress to my thong, moved the soaked fabric aside, and his middle finger found my swollen clit right away. He began circling it, first gently, then with pressure, while two more fingers sank into my dripping cunt and found that spot inside me that made me see stars. My gasps could no longer be contained. He fucked me with his hand, going in and out, and his palm slapped my clit with every thrust.

—So what do you say now? —he murmured, his fingers buried to the hilt.

—Fuck me —I answered without thinking—. Fuck my pussy, you motherfucker, put it in me now.

He bent me over the counter, yanked my thong off in one tug, and I felt that thing from the photo burning into me from behind, trying to slip between the open lips of my cunt. It wasn’t possible in that position: that thing was too thick to take all at once, it pried me open and still didn’t fit, scraping my entrance and tearing a moan from me that was half pleasure, half fear. I turned around, still before either of us had kissed, yanked down his pants and took it in my hands. That was when I confirmed the outrageous thickness: my fingers couldn’t close around it. I squeezed it, stripped it bare, felt it throbbing against my palm, felt a thick bead escape from the tip, and I smeared it all over the head. Our clothes disappeared in tugging pulls while our mouths finally met in a ferocious struggle of lips and tongues, teeth biting, saliva mixing.

—Let’s go to bed —he ordered.

We went without separating, stumbling down the hall, him groping my tits and me with my hand closed around his cock, leading him like he was on a leash. There, in the bedroom, I could see the full, horrible beauty of that thick, dark shaft, marked with veins, with the heavy balls hanging beneath it. I didn’t hold back: I pushed him backward onto the mattress and launched myself into the best oral sex of my life. I knelt between his legs, grabbed the base with both hands, and took it into my mouth. It barely fit: my lips stretched to the limit, my jaw ached. I started sucking it slowly, sliding it in as far as I could, feeling it scrape my palate, feel its way down my throat. I flicked my tongue underneath and stroked the thick vein, licked the purple head, left it shining with saliva. Then I went down and sucked his balls one by one, took them into my mouth, and went back up to swallow his cock again. It took forever, because every time I felt he was about to come I stopped and held him tight at the base, delaying him, laughing at his groans. He pulled my hair, cursed with pleasure, called me a cock-sucking slut. At one point he took my nape with both hands and shoved it to the back of my throat, moving my head to his rhythm. He finished in my mouth in muffled moans, stream after stream of thick hot milk filling my tongue, my palate, my throat. I swallowed a good part of it and what leaked out of the corner of my mouth I spread over my breasts, smearing my nipples with his semen. That drove him wild and he didn’t lose his erection for a second.

We changed positions. He threw me onto my back, spread my legs, and settled between them. With him on top, we began the hard work of getting him inside. He spat on my cunt, spat on his cock, rubbed it against my open lips, against my clit, making it good and wet. Lifting my legs against his shoulders, slowly, millimeter by millimeter, he began to ease it in. It was a burning ember boring into my insides, scorching every inch, stretching me beyond a limit I hadn’t known I had. It hurt and at the same time filled every hollow with indescribable pleasure. I felt it making its way through me, pushing my walls apart, touching places no other cock had ever touched. When he finally had it all the way inside, he stayed still, breathing hard, waiting for me to adjust.

—You’ve got a tight pussy, whore —he said—. No pussy has ever sucked me like that.

At first we moved only a little, short, deep thrusts so I could adjust. He took one breast in his mouth, bit my nipple, and started moving his hips in circles, digging inside me. The first orgasm caught me by surprise: it shook me all over, arched my back, and I screamed against his shoulder. Without pulling out, he started moving faster, and then came the second, and the third, one after another, chained together, until I lost count. He put me on all fours, grabbed my hips, and started fucking me without mercy, smacking my ass so hard it echoed through the room. I could hear the splash of my soaked cunt, his balls hitting my clit with every stab, his masculine grunts. He brought one hand around to the front and went back to playing my clit in time with his thrusts. I exploded in screams, biting the pillow, feeling him come inside me with a roar, shooting stream after stream to the depths, so hot I felt it burn my walls.

I was left spent, my legs trembling, his milk running down between my thighs. I went to the bathroom to freshen up, brushed my teeth, and went back to bed.

***

That was when he delivered the sentence that froze me.

—Now it’s the ass’s turn.

—No, no, that isn’t going in any way —I cried, terrified, staring at his cock, which was already hard again, shining, impossible.

—Not this one —he said—. But that one.

The door opened. And there was Diego, naked, rigid, with his cock standing and a conspiratorial smile on his lips. He came closer, kissed me slowly, and whispered in my ear:

—Relax. It was all planned. It’s something we’ve been dreaming about for a long time, and we knew that if we suggested it, you wouldn’t agree.

Thank you, I managed to think before he took me by the knees and led me toward him. He put his cock in my mouth at once and I started sucking it while Mauricio came up at my side and offered me his. I ended up turned into a sandwich between the two bodies, tending to one, turning to tend to the other, two cocks for my one mouth, sucking them in turns, licking them together when they pressed one against the other in front of my lips. Hands I could no longer distinguish roamed over my whole body, four hands pinching my nipples, spreading my ass, probing my soaked cunt and from there moving up to my ass, one finger first, testing the ring, wetting it with my own juices.

We fell back into bed, flooded with kisses and tongue. Mauricio lay back and had me climb up his chest until I was seated on his face; he opened me with his thumbs and licked my cunt for a long while, sucking my clit, plunging his tongue deep inside me, while Diego played behind me with a finger, preparing me, circling the loosening ring again and again. I felt the cold cream, Diego’s finger forcing its way to the knuckles, going in and out, first one, then two, opening me like scissors. I moaned over Mauricio’s mouth, and he didn’t stop licking me.

Then he lowered me until we were lined up again, with Mauricio’s cock pointed at my cunt. This time there was no hesitation: I let myself drop and it drove straight to the back in one shot, tearing a rough cry from me. I started riding him, up and down on that thick cock, feeling it open me completely. Then Diego settled behind me, pushed my chest against Mauricio’s, and I felt the tip of his cock against the cream-slicked ring. When Diego guided it closer and pushed, it went in better than I had imagined, millimeter by millimeter, until it passed the limit and sank in without pause to the base. In seconds I was full, split open by both of them, with two cocks moving inside me separated only by a thin wall of flesh, not a free inch left in my body. I could feel every vein of both cocks, how they rubbed against each other through me, how they filled me completely. They started moving out of sync: when one went in, the other came out, and I was an instrument between the two, a body suspended between two cocks that were fucking me at the same time. I could barely even moan, just babble, my mouth open against Mauricio’s neck, drooling with pleasure.

We didn’t last long like that. Diego finished first, gripping my hips and dumping all his load into my ass with a roar; I felt every pulse of his cock inside me. Mauricio, a couple of minutes later, drove his to the hilt and filled my cunt for the second time that night. I was left wrecked, trembling, with both cocks still inside me and the cum leaking out of both holes at once, unable to think.

***

Our life changed from that night on. With a pleasure I would never confess out loud, I became the slave of the two of them. Double penetration became a several-times-a-week thing, and when Diego traveled, we did it alone with Mauricio. The three of us were around fifty-five, but we discovered an appetite none of us had known we had.

To my surprise, that was only the beginning. One week when Diego went away with an excursion, Mauricio came to dinner accompanied by an older man, owner of the company that would become our supplier. Esteban was sixty-six, gray-haired, very tall, in an expensive suit and a watch that betrayed his fortune. We talked about business, tax exemptions, a generous line of credit. Deep down, I knew that final signature was going to end up being put by me, and not exactly on a piece of paper.

—Did you know Esteban dances like nobody else? —Mauricio said, and put on some slow music.

The man invited me to dance. A while later Mauricio apologized for an emergency and left, leaving us alone. We danced pressed together, cheeks touching, corners of our lips brushing without daring to commit, and I felt against my stomach that a long, firm cock was getting hard beneath his suit pants. When we sat down for coffee, the compliments began, hands over mine, eyes fixed on mine for too long.

—I’m going to kiss you —he said—. Close your eyes.

I did, and felt only a heavenly brush, nothing more. I opened my eyes, dazzled, and there he still was, handsome, smiling, conspiratorial. I didn’t hesitate: I closed my eyes again, this time parting my lips. We kissed for hours, each kiss better than the last, until I couldn’t take it anymore, grabbed his hand, and put it between my legs, over the already soaked panties, and led him with my other hand to the bedroom.

Once again I was where I wanted to be: undressing in front of someone I genuinely liked, showing him my tits, my shaved cunt, letting myself be looked at in full. I opened his pants and pulled out a long, elegant cock, the kind that penetrates deep. He put it inside me slowly, attentively, generously, cunt up at the edge of the bed, looking into my eyes while he went in and out, seeking my depths with each slow thrust. That was the beginning of another stage of my sexuality. But I’ll tell you about that another day.