The chat couple let me direct every step

It was a dead Thursday afternoon, one of those when you expect nothing, and I went into the couples’ chat more out of habit than desire. I wasn’t looking for serious conversation. I just wanted to pass the time reading the same old nicks as always, the same messages that never lead anywhere.

Then one appeared that I hadn’t seen before: “losdosjuntos.” Something about the name made me open a private chat. It turned out to be a couple, he thirty-four, she twenty-seven. Damián and Carla. At first I was cool, convinced it would end like all the chat conversations, in nothing or in awkward silence. But we clicked slowly, word by word, until the conversation stopped feeling like a formality.

They told me they had almost no experience. Their only adventure had been lukewarm: they arranged it through a dating app looking for something cuckold, with Damián in the submissive role, but the man they met only wanted to sleep with Carla and had nothing to do with the rest. So they were looking for a second chance, one where Damián could truly carry out his submissive role in service of the other. They told me straight out, and I told them I was more than happy on my end.

Mostly Damián wrote, though every so often the tone would change and it was she who took over the keyboard. You could tell from the sentences: his were cautious, weighing every word; hers were direct, almost brazen. I liked that difference. It made it clear who was in charge of the two when the screen went dark, and why they needed someone who would reverse that order.

“What scares you most about meeting me?” I asked Damián at one point in the conversation.

“That I’ll like it too much,” he wrote, and he took a long while to send it.

After a good while of trying to get to know each other, the final test arrived: exchanging photos. That moment that decides whether there’s chemistry or whether everything puffs out. They sent me a photo of the two of them on a beach in the south, at night, and the result convinced me at once. Carla was a brunette with a generous chest, with a neckline that the tight T-shirt barely contained and a short skirt that promised plenty. Damián, for his part, was a guy who, if he hadn’t been with her that night, would have had no trouble finding company: brown-haired, well-groomed, with a clearly metrosexual air. The photo I sent them also passed the test, and they liked knowing I was fifty-four, twenty-seven more than her.

I sketched out a plan for the next day. We would meet at noon in a big shopping center in the north side of town, set up a few scenes inside the store, and then move to a no-tell motel, one of those rented by the hour, in a nearby village.

“What if they kick us out?” Carla asked in the chat.

“They won’t kick us out. You do what I say and leave the rest to me.”

There was a long silence on the other end. Then a simple “okay” came from both of them, and I knew they would come.

***

The next day I showed up there at the agreed time, twelve o’clock, in the lingerie section. But before that I stopped by an erotic shop in the mall itself to buy a remote-controlled anal plug. I tucked it in my pocket and went to look for them. I recognized them instantly, standing among the mannequins, looking around with that stiffness that gives away someone who doesn’t know what to do with their hands.

We greeted each other coldly. The first few minutes are always the worst, when desire still hasn’t melted away the shame. I asked them if they were ready to follow my instructions to the letter. Both nodded with a nervous laugh, the kind that escapes when you’ve already decided but still don’t quite dare believe it.

My first order was for Damián. I told him to pick out any item so he’d have an excuse to go into the fitting room, and I handed him the package with the plug.

“What is this?” he asked, weighing it in his hand.

“You’ll see when you open it. And you’ll know perfectly well what to do with it.”

He chose a pair of trousers and headed for the fitting rooms. But before he got away I stopped him.

“Wait. Look at me.”

I grabbed Carla by the neck and gave her a long, deep kiss, right in front of his face. She reacted coldly at first, tense, almost not responding. And then suddenly something changed. It was she who began to push her tongue forward, who held the back of my neck, who gave herself over as if the rest of the store had stopped existing. She was starting to warm up. A few meters away, a well-off-looking woman who had been browsing the racks for a while was watching us sideways, I imagine not quite believing what she was seeing.

I let go of Carla and let Damián disappear down the fitting-room aisle with his package. Then I took her to the lingerie area.

“Pick out clothes. For you and for him.”

She kept taking sets off the rack and showing them to me; I approved or rejected them with a gesture while I started touching her without bothering to hide it, one hand on her hip, my fingers brushing the hem of her skirt. We chose the same thing for both of them: bra, panties, and garter belt, all in the smallest stretch fabric, leaving little to the imagination. Knowing that lingerie would end up on Damián’s body turned me on just as much as on hers.

In the distance we saw Damián come out of the fitting room. I pulled out my phone, opened the plug app, and switched it on. We watched him writhing in the middle of the aisle, clinging to a doorframe, trying to hide it as best he could. Carla laughed softly, and I took the chance to turn her around and kiss her again, this time with her already completely surrendered.

When Damián reached us, I told Carla to grab anything to try on. She put the lingerie into his arms and followed me to an empty fitting room.

***

Inside, I didn’t want preliminaries. I slid the latch shut, pulled down my trousers with my cock already hard, and ordered her to kneel and suck me. While she did, I asked for her phone and opened a video call with Damián so he could see everything live. With the other hand I controlled the plug from my phone.

“Turn the volume all the way up,” I told him through the camera. “I want the people around you to hear what I’m doing to your girl.”

Carla sucked with a shamelessness that surprised me, no half-measures, looking up at me every few seconds from underneath. The fitting room was narrow, the white lights hit hard against the mirror, and the only sound was her mouth and my breathing getting more and more ragged. I increased the plug’s intensity little by little, imagining Damián on the other side of the aisle, holding the screen with a trembling hand.

Every so often I turned Carla’s phone toward the mirror so he could see himself reflected in the camera while he spied. I wanted him to understand the role he occupied: neither inside nor outside, only watching, waiting for an order. Through the speaker I could hear his quickened breathing and, in the background, the murmur of the shopping center, people’s voices passing a few meters away without suspecting a thing.

“Tell him what you’re doing,” I ordered Carla without taking her fully off me.

She lifted her face for a second, lips shining, and spoke toward the screen.

“I’m sucking our man’s cock while you wait like a good boy.”

She lowered her head again before he could answer, and I felt my whole body tighten.

When I couldn’t hold out any longer, I came on her face. I didn’t warn her; seeing how eager she was, there was no need. But I did give her an order.

“Don’t swallow. Hold it in your mouth until I say so.”

She nodded with her lips closed, eyes bright, and I helped her stand up. We put our clothes back in order, I stepped out first and let her follow a couple of paces behind me.

Damián was waiting near the fitting-room entrance, pretending to look at a shelf he had no interest in. I signaled to Carla.

“Go and give him a kiss. Pass it all on.”

She went over, held the back of his neck with both hands, and kissed him slowly, forcing him to open his mouth. I watched Damián surrender, watched him accept what she passed into him without pulling away.

“Take it all, my love,” she whispered to him. “It’s from our man.”

At that instant I turned the plug up to its maximum. Damián tensed up completely, closed his eyes, and from his face I knew he was coming right there, dressed, in the middle of the store, while swallowing. The woman from before had already left, but the thrill of knowing anyone could show up in the aisle left the three of us trembling.

***

We stood there in silence for a moment, the three of us, catching our breath between the racks, with that restrained laugh of people who have just done something they shouldn’t. Carla was smoothing her hair, Damián was breathing hard with his forehead beaded with sweat, and I was putting my phone away as if nothing had just happened.

“Shall we go?” I asked.

Neither of them answered with words. Carla took me by the arm, Damián picked up the bag with the lingerie we still hadn’t paid for and left it in a bin on the way out, and we headed for the parking lot. The afternoon had barely begun, and the best part of the plan was still waiting for us in a room rented by the hour, fifteen minutes from there.

But that’s another scene. And I’ll tell that one another day.