The Afternoon My Old Lover Introduced Me to His Boyfriend

The landline rang like a siren in the middle of the living room.

Marga startled on the sofa. That old, shrill, stubborn ring had been drilling into her nerves for years, but she had never been able to change it. People of her generation didn’t ignore a call: a missed call was truly lost, without a trace or a second chance.

She left the novel open on her lap —pages that no longer tickled her since she herself had lived things more intense than any fiction— and got to her feet with a lightness that still surprised her. Her body buzzed after her seven o’clock class and a long shower. She felt electric, as if every cell had switched back on after years in the dark.

She glanced sideways at Aurelio, sunk into his corner of the sofa like a vase no one dares throw out. The overflowing ashtray, the television at an impossible volume, his eyes glued to a game show. The best thing that could be said about him was that he took up space.

—Aren’t you going to answer it? —she asked, though she already knew she’d have to get up herself.

Aurelio grunted something unintelligible without taking his eyes off the screen. Marga sighed and picked up the receiver.

—Hello?

—Good afternoon, may I speak to Marga? —A woman’s voice, young, with an accent she couldn’t place—. One moment, please, I’m putting someone on.

—Aurelio, turn the volume down, I can’t even think —she asked, covering the handset.

—I’m watching my program —he muttered, and got up dragging his feet to go out onto the balcony to smoke, muttering a “go fry some asparagus” before closing the blind.

Marga bit her lip. “What a brilliant idea you’ve given me without knowing it. Maybe I’ll write it down later.”

—Marga? It’s Nacho.

Her heart jolted at once. “My God, that voice. That rough voice that used to whisper filth in my ear in Lanzarote.”

—Nacho! —she lowered her voice instinctively—. How are you? Can you talk?

—Relax. I’ve been dying to call you. Dying.

Marga sat on the edge of the sofa, her legs trembling a little.

—How did you get my landline?

—From the form you filled out at the barbershop last summer. You put down both the landline and your mobile. —He paused—. How’s the island treating you?

—Same as always here. Aurelio’s still the same breathing vase. But I miss those days in Lanzarote. A lot.

—What do you miss most?

Marga felt herself dampen just from remembering. She lowered her voice to nearly a whisper.

—The freedom. You, Sergio, Hugo, and me. That feeling of being truly alive.

—Well, that’s exactly what I wanted to talk to you about. I have a friend. Well, more than a friend. I’ve talked about you so much that he’s dying to meet you. The three of us getting together.

Something stirred inside her, that mix of nerves and excitement she knew so well.

—More than a friend?

—It’s hard to explain on the phone. But he’s a very special guy to me. —Another pause—. We’re going to spend a long weekend in Zaragoza, four days. Couldn’t you make up some excuse to come one morning, or one afternoon?

Marga was already imagining the perfect alibi.

—I can say I’m going shopping in the center. Aurelio will never want to come with me; he hates shops.

—Perfect! Then Friday? We’ll have lunch, chat, and spend the afternoon together.

A delicious tingle rose between her legs.

—I’d love that. But tell me something about your friend. I met you in a pretty unusual way and I don’t want any surprises.

Nacho laughed, more relaxed.

—Don’t worry, gorgeous. He’s a bit younger than me, good-looking, in good shape. An architect, though sometimes he also works as a model. And for the first time in years I feel something real for someone. I swear the two of us will make sure you have as good an afternoon as the ones on the island.

Marga relaxed completely. The honesty in his voice convinced her.

—It’s a deal. Friday I’ll come down to Zaragoza to shop. And do other things.

—His name’s Bruno. You’re going to love him.

***

On Friday morning she got on the train with a nervousness she hadn’t felt since Lanzarote. She had chosen her clothes carefully: a knit dress that hugged her figure without being vulgar, new underwear, a subtle perfume. As the landscape slid past the window, she couldn’t stop remembering Nacho’s huge hands, his mix of roughness and tenderness, his tattooed body.

“What will his friend be like?” she wondered, squeezing her thighs together. “Will he look like him?”

Her phone rang when the train was pulling into the station.

—Are you almost here? We’re in a hotel in the center, next to the station. We’ll wait for you at reception. And come ready, because today you’re going to freak out.

She hung up with butterflies in her stomach that quickly turned into something thicker. She remembered exactly what it was like sleeping with Nacho: the piercing in his frenulum against her tongue, the salty taste of his skin, the way he treated her like something precious only to tear screams out of her. She had been hungry for months. A sigh slipped out of her, and she had to bite her lip not to draw attention in the carriage.

***

When she stepped into the hotel lobby, she froze. She recognized the place at once: it was one of the luxury hotels where she had worked as a chambermaid years before. “Fuck, I hope no one who knows me is still here.”

By reception were Nacho and a man who looked like a fallen angel. If Nacho was pure raw masculinity, this other man was elegance made flesh: taller, athletic, his head shaved like his friend’s, but with finer features, a firm jaw, and clear eyes that went right through her.

“It’s as if Nacho were the gladiator and this one the emperor,” she thought, her mouth dry.

Nacho saw her and his face lit up. He hugged her hard, crushing her breasts against his torso, and Marga immediately recognized that scent that had unsettled her so much.

—Let me introduce Bruno. Bruno, this is Marga, the woman I’ve told you so much about.

Instead of shaking her hand, Bruno bent slightly and kissed her twice, brushing her cheeks. Where Nacho was force, he was control.

—Nice to meet you. Nacho hasn’t stopped talking about you for months.

Her nerves had knotted her stomach, but they still sat down at a discreet table by the window, and Marga took the chance to ask what was gnawing at her.

—How did you two meet?

—On a beach in Lanzarote —Bruno replied—. I was there for a photo shoot.

—And I was in the mood for trouble —Nacho added with his usual frankness—. I saw this elegant guy and thought, “what a posh bastard.” But when he took his shirt off, I was speechless.

—That night we stayed talking in the sand until dawn —Bruno continued, and Marga didn’t miss how his voice softened—. I had never felt anything like that for anyone.

—At first I thought it was just attraction —Nacho admitted—. But it was much more than that. And now we’re exploring it: what we feel for each other and what we like to share. Like you. Bruno’s been asking me for months to call you.

Heat rose up her neck to her cheeks.

—Well, here I am.

—Here you are —Nacho smiled—. Ready for an unforgettable afternoon?

***

They went up to a spacious suite with a huge bed and a window over the city.

—I’ve cleaned this room many times —Marga murmured—. It’s one of the best in the hotel.

—Well today you’re going to see it from a different perspective —Nacho laughed.

They barely closed the door before the two of them started undressing with the natural ease of people who had talked about it a hundred times. Nacho, broader, covered in tattoos; Bruno, more streamlined, defined muscle, the hairy skin of his chest contrasting with his shaved head.

—Jesus Christ —she murmured—. You’re the perfect match.

—And you’re too dressed —Nacho growled, approaching from the front.

—Much more than necessary —Bruno added from behind, slowly lowering the zipper of her dress.

When the garment hit the floor, both men stood still, admiring the black lingerie she had chosen for the occasion.

—You’re even better than I remembered —Nacho murmured, his voice husky. And it wasn’t just the clothes. Marga had changed since the island: arms with subtle definition, firmer legs, brown hair with silver streaks framing her face in a mature sensuality that needed no disguise.

—She’s exquisite —Bruno added, his voice rough—. Absolutely exquisite.

Marga felt powerful under those gazes. After months of feeling invisible at home, having two men like that devour her with their eyes was intoxicating.

—Who wants to be first? —she asked with a mischievous smile that caught them both off guard.

Nacho and Bruno looked at each other.

—You start with Bruno —Nacho decided—. I want to see you together.

Marga went to Bruno and rested her palms on his chest.

—Are you nervous?

—A little. It’s the first time I’ve shared someone I really care about.

The confession touched her. She rose onto her toes and kissed him. His lips were different from Nacho’s, softer at first, more restrained, but soon they answered with a passion that surprised her. Meanwhile, she felt Nacho’s hands moving across her back, unclasping her bra with that mastery of his.

—Now I want to see you two —she said, pulling away—. I want to see how you kiss.

The request took Nacho by surprise, but Marga’s eyes were burning. The two men moved closer, and when their mouths met, Marga saw something that took her breath away: Nacho, so dominant with the world, surrendered completely, letting Bruno take control with a naturalness that spoke of whole nights together.

“It’s like watching the roles reverse,” she thought, sliding her hand between her legs. “Bruno is the one truly in charge.”

She watched Bruno knead Nacho’s bulge until he was moaning into his mouth, and felt moisture soaking her panties.

—You’re perfect together —she murmured—. But now I want both of you. At the same time.

—At your service —Bruno replied with a smile that was no longer the least bit shy.

***

Marga lay down in the middle of the bed and slipped off her panties in one fluid movement that left them both speechless.

—Come here. Both of you.

They positioned themselves on either side of her. Bruno began kissing her neck with a delicacy that contrasted with his imposing physique; Nacho moved down to her breasts and, when he caught one nipple between his lips, she arched her back.

—You’re soaked —Nacho murmured, sliding a finger between her folds—. Fuck, I love feeling you like this.

—It’s because the two of you together drive me insane —she gasped.

Bruno lowered himself, lifted her legs, and rested them on his shoulders.

—May I? —he asked, warm breath brushing her.

—Please… —Marga begged.

When Bruno’s tongue slid between her folds, she screamed with pleasure. He was more patient than Nacho, more meticulous, just as skilled. As she writhed, clutching the pillow, Nacho sat up, stripped off his clothes, and guided his shaft toward her face.

—Tell me, have you thought about this all these months? —he growled, grazing his glans across her lips.

Marga felt a jolt run through her entire body. She loved that game, that display of power that awakened in her a willing, delicious submission.

—Every night —she replied in a husky voice, playing along—. So give it all to me.

She took him in both hands and focused on the tip, tracing slow circles with her tongue. Nacho threw his head back.

—Like that… exactly like that…

—Bruno, take off everything too —she asked, breaking away for a moment—. I want to see all of you.

Bruno obeyed, and when she saw his cock she caught her breath: every bit as impressive as Nacho’s, but longer, with an elegant curve, refined even in that. He went to get condoms and lubricant while Marga, already lying back, spread her legs shamelessly.

She fitted the condom onto Nacho with expert hands. He positioned himself above her, supporting himself on his arms so he wouldn’t crush her, and kissed her with an intensity that surprised them both as he began to enter her a millimeter at a time. The wet heat wrapped around him like burning silk, exactly as she remembered, but better.

—Don’t stop kissing me —she murmured, biting his lip—. I want to feel your tongue while you fuck me. Slowly.

Nacho obeyed, sinking in all the way, and stopped there gasping against her mouth. Then Bruno positioned himself behind him. He stroked his back with those elegant hands, applied lubricant, and started working him open with fingers that knew every part of his body.

—What was that? —Marga moaned, feeling Nacho’s shudder transmit itself to her.

—Bruno’s getting me ready —he gasped—. And everything he does to me, you feel too.

When Bruno put on his own condom and began entering him with a steady, familiar pressure, Nacho’s body accepted him without resistance, opened by months of trust. The three of them went still for a moment, adjusting to the new way they fit together.

—May I move? —Bruno asked.

—Yes, but slowly at first.

Bruno set a slow, deep rhythm. Each thrust pushed Nacho a little farther inside Marga, chaining the three of them into the same current.

—I can feel every movement of Bruno inside you —she gasped, amazed.

—That’s the idea —Bruno growled, speeding up.

Nacho was the center of everything, the bridge: Bruno filling him from behind, Marga tightening around him from below, his mouth on hers with every breath.

—Harder —Nacho begged—. Both of you.

Each удар sent directly through Marga’s body, and she began moaning without control.

—Yes… feeling you both… it’s incredible… —she panted.

The pace climbed until it became unbearable. Marga felt her own orgasm approaching like a storm.

—I won’t last much longer —Nacho growled, his arms shaking.

—Neither will I —Bruno added, his thrusts growing more urgent.

—Then all three at once —she ordered—. Now.

The orgasm shook her from head to toe. Her contractions squeezed Nacho from within, and that, added to Bruno’s thrusts, was too much for him. He came with rough groans, arching his back between his two lovers, and the spasms dragged Bruno with him, who spilled himself while clutching her sweaty body.

The three of them stayed joined for several minutes, panting, exhausted, satisfied.

***

Later, lying between the two of them, Marga stroked Bruno’s hairy chest while Nacho kissed her shoulder.

—I think today I discovered something about myself —she murmured—. That I like being in charge. Deciding what happens and when. And I’m fascinated by watching how you complement each other.

—You were incredible —Nacho said, sitting up—. So confident, so powerful. Watching you take control turned me on.

—But you know I’ve got my two boys, right? Sergio and Hugo are my balance —she added with a laugh.

—Of course —Bruno smiled—. And we’ve got our own thing. This has been like a vacation for the three of us.

—Though —Nacho said wickedly— you still owe us that idea of getting the five of us together. This morning Sergio started a message group. Look at your phone, they must have added you: he wrote that “a broader cultural evening would be very enriching,” and Hugo said he’d “love to expand his knowledge with professors from several specialties.”

Marga covered her face, laughing her head off.

—Those two and their codes! They’re hopeless.

While she got dressed, Bruno took out a bag from a department store.

—I almost forgot. We thought you might need an alibi for your husband. Some clothes, so it looks like you really went shopping.

Inside she found a blouse, a silk scarf, and a set of underwear. And they had even gotten the sizes right.

—You’re geniuses. Aurelio won’t suspect a thing. —Before leaving, she stopped at the door—. Can I ask you something? Are you in love?

The two looked at each other, and the answer was in their eyes before they spoke.

—Yes —Nacho admitted—. I never thought it would happen to me at my age, and especially not with someone so different from me.

—And I never imagined falling in love with someone so genuine —Bruno added, stroking his tattooed arm—. That’s why sharing this with you, together, is so special.

—I’m honored to be part of your encounters —she said with genuine emotion—. Start thinking about the syllabus for five.

—We’re already on it! —they both laughed as she left, and their laughter followed her all the way to the elevator.

***

The train back was almost empty. Marga sat by the window with the bag on her lap and her body still vibrating.

“Who am I now?” she wondered. “A year ago I was the invisible woman married to Aurelio. In Lanzarote I became the one who dared to try. And today I was the one who runs her own life.”

Her phone vibrated. A message from Bruno: “It was perfect. We’re already planning the next meet-up. You’re extraordinary.” And another from Nacho: “What an afternoon, gorgeous. I can’t wait to do it again and meet your professors. We adore you.”

Marga smiled and put the phone away. “They adore me. Two men who love each other and who also adore me. How did it take me fifty-eight years to discover this existed?”