The Fantasy That Couple Confessed to Me at Their Country House

My car’s engine dies with one last gasp and, in its place, there is only the absolute silence of the countryside. I look at the stone façade of the house, the dark oak beams, the ivy climbing the walls. It’s identical to the photos they sent me, but more real, more imposing. I take a deep breath. The cold evening air burns my lungs and, somehow, steadies me. I’m twenty-seven, I’m fit, and I’ve spent days preparing for this as if I were getting ready for a test. Every muscle in my torso throbs with pure anticipation.

I ring the bell. A deep sound echoes inside. A few seconds later, the door opens.

It isn’t one person. It’s two. Him and her.

He towers half a head over me. Gray hair slicked back, an easy smile that doesn’t quite reach eyes that are sharp and calculating. Dark trousers, a navy silk shirt fitted over a chest that’s still firm. He must be around fifty, but there’s a contained energy in him, a quiet authority.

Beside him, she is another matter. A short, tight red dress that outlines every curve of a well-worked body. Dark, straight hair falling over her shoulders, a mischievous spark in her gaze, lips painted an intense red that curves into a direct welcome.

—Iván? —she asks in a soft contralto.

—The same —I reply, and mine sounds rougher than usual.

—Come in, please —he invites, gesturing inside—. We’re glad you came. I’m Gustavo, and she’s Patricia.

I cross the threshold and the smell hits me: burning wood in the fireplace, a floral perfume, and something else, a scent of clean skin and expectation. The house is warm, with dark furniture and thick rugs. Patricia guides me with her hand, and her long fingers rest for an instant on my forearm. An electric shock runs through me.

—We’ve prepared something to drink for you —says Gustavo, closing the door with a click that sounds like a point of no return—. A whiskey, to take the cold off. —He looks me up and down, slowly, deliberately, and I feel like a horse at auction—. Even better than in the photos. Fit, just as you said.

—I take care of myself —I answer, not quite sure what else to add. I move like an animal in someone else’s territory, sizing up the owners of the pack.

Patricia comes so close I can feel the heat of her body. She offers me a glass without taking her eyes off mine.

—Don’t be shy —she whispers—. We’re here to have a good time. The three of us. —Her smile is promise and provocation at once—. But first we’re going to chat a little. Come, sit with us.

***

We settle onto the leather sofa. The fire crackles and throws dancing shadows across the walls. The whiskey burns down my throat, a pleasant warmth that spreads through my chest and loosens the tension. Patricia leans back, one leg bent on the cushion, her dress sliding a few centimeters up her thigh. Gustavo, on my other side, leans forward with his elbows on his knees. Host’s posture, but his eyes give him away.

—Thank you for coming, Iván —she begins, almost a murmur—. I know this can sound very direct. But we prefer clarity. —She pauses, seeks Gustavo’s gaze, and a knowing smile passes between them—. We’ve been married for years and, I assure you, that’s not the issue.

Gustavo cuts in, his tone lower.

—We like sex, Iván. We’ve tried it in every imaginable way between us. Every corner, every fantasy. But there’s a line —he leans back, looking at the fire— that only gets crossed with a third person.

My heart slams against my ribs.

Patricia continues, her hand slowly sliding over her husband’s thigh.

—The fantasy is his, really. He likes me taking him, that total surrender. But we don’t want it to be just that. —Her gaze turns intense, almost feral—. While Gustavo is inside me, filling me, we want you, Iván, to be inside him.

The impact of her words reaches me like a wave of heat.

—I want to see his face when he feels it for the first time for real —she adds—. I want to hear him moan not just from giving me pleasure, but from yours too.

I look at Gustavo. His face is pure desire, with no trace of shame.

—Patricia has prepared me —he says, his voice heavy with longing—. With her toys, with her dildos. She’s made me discover a pleasure I never imagined. But plastic is cold, Iván. It’s an imitation. —He turns to me, eyes burning—. I want to feel a real man. The heat, the firmness, the pulse of another body inside me while I’m inside my woman. Imagine it. Double pleasure. A closed circuit.

He stands, walks to the fireplace, and turns his back to me for a moment. When he turns around, the erection is obvious beneath his trousers.

—I want it more than you think —he insists, and kneels in front of the sofa, taking my hand. His is hot, trembling—. Are you willing to give it to us? To be the missing piece?

Patricia curls up against my neck, her warm breath on my ear.

—Please, Iván… say yes.

***

The silence in the room is dense, electric. The whiskey has already done its work and my own arousal throbs insistently in my crotch. I look at Gustavo, kneeling before me, with a longing so raw it’s irresistible. The idea of having this man, so sure of himself, at my mercy is a power I’ve never felt before.

—Do you like sucking a dildo? —I ask him softly, a direct challenge.

Gustavo doesn’t hesitate. A slow smile appears on his mouth.

—Yes —he admits—. It turns me on. Feeling it cold at first, watching it yield to my heat. Obeying Patricia while she handles it. It’s submission and power at the same time. —He licks his lips—. But plastic has no taste, it doesn’t throb, it doesn’t shiver with you.

It’s all I needed to hear. I spread my legs, opening the space between them. The fabric of my trousers tightens over my erection.

—And what are you waiting for to try the real first one?

The question hangs there, order and invitation at once. Gustavo lets out a shuddering breath. His hands move up my thighs to my belt. His fingers work the buckle with a fluency that speaks of a lot of practice, though with other materials. I hear the metallic click, then the zipper sliding down slowly, almost reverently, as if unwrapping a long-awaited gift. He parts the fabric and my sex is freed, hard, erect before him.

For a moment, he only looks at it. He studies it as someone studies something they’ve been imagining for a long time.

Then Patricia moves at my side. She threads a hand into my hair, turns my face toward hers and kisses me. It isn’t a tender kiss: it’s wet, deep, voracious. Her tongue seeks mine in a wild dance that tastes of whiskey and desire. While she devours me, her half-open eyes slide toward her husband. And I, through the kiss, look too.

I see Gustavo lower his head. I see how those lips that confessed his kink for plastic open to take my flesh. His tongue comes out in a first slow, wet stroke, and a deep moan escapes his throat, a sound of surrender. Patricia deepens the kiss, feeling my triumphant tremor while her husband, at last, tastes what he’d imagined for so long.

***

There’s no rush in him, only reverent curiosity. His tongue traces slow lines along the shaft, from base to tip, as if he wants to memorize every millimeter. There is no rigidity of plastic, only the elasticity and heat of living skin. I close my eyes for an instant, given over to the sensation.

Just then I feel Patricia’s hand on my wrist. With seductive firmness, she guides it under the fabric of her dress. My fingers find the softness of her breast, the nipple already hardening under my touch. She presses me against her, claiming my attention with the language of the body.

—You’ve got your first one already —she tells her husband, her voice thick with power—. Do you like the taste?

Gustavo pulls back for a moment, lips red and swollen.

—Yes —he pants—. It tastes like a man. Like life. It’s so much better.

Patricia smiles, triumphant. She bites my earlobe without letting go of my hand on her breast.

—Do you want to fuck him? —she asks him. It isn’t a question, it’s an order—. You’re going to moan loudly for us. I want the whole countryside to know how you’re enjoying it.

Gustavo looks at me with a mixture of submission and challenge, and nods without words.

***

Patricia rises. The red dress slips from her shoulders like a silk snake and falls at her feet in a velvet puddle. She stands there a moment in lingerie under the flickering light. She unhooks her bra, freeing firm breasts, then turns around and pulls down her thong. And then I see it: the string is almost nonexistent, and in its center, gleaming in the firelight, a small blue jewel. A plug clinging to her body, a promise of what’s to come.

She goes to a bag in the corner and takes out several objects she places on a small table: dildos of different sizes and a bottle of lube that shines like a trophy.

—Darling —she says to Gustavo—, stick your cock in me. And get ready, because tonight you’re taking your first turn.

She sits beside me, places a cushion under her hips and lifts her ass, offering it. The blue jewel shines between her buttocks, an invitation that leaves no room for doubt.

Gustavo slowly straightens, his face transformed into pure lust. He strips in front of me: the silk shirt reveals a well-defined torso, with gray hair trailing down toward his belly. When he lets his trousers fall, I discover he’s wearing a plug too, this one black, anchored and waiting to be replaced by something made of flesh. What a pair of treasures, I think, looking at her jewel and his stopper. Two perfect temples, ready to be opened.

Patricia parts her buttocks with both hands, exposing the ring tightened around the blue jewel. Gustavo pours a generous stream of lubricant over her sex, coats her ass with the familiarity of years, positions himself behind her and pushes in with slow, steady pressure. A muffled gasp escapes Patricia as his muscle yields.

—Ah… yes, darling… like that —she moans, head thrown back—. I can feel you opening me, filling me. It’s perfect.

He pauses for a moment so she can adjust. Then he starts moving, slow, deep thrusts, and each one draws a louder moan from Patricia. The sofa creaks in rhythm while I watch, cock in hand, as the first part of their fantasy becomes real before my eyes.

***

Then Gustavo goes still inside her and turns his head toward me, breathing hard.

—Come here —he orders—. Take the plug out of me and fuck me. Give me my real first one. —Patricia moans beneath him, pushing back to get more—. Fuck my wife through me.

I kneel behind him, between his spread legs. My hand trembles, not from nerves, but from the pure electricity of the moment. I find the smooth base of the black plug and play with it: I twist it and feel his muscle contract around me; I tug it out a centimeter and push it back in. Gustavo lets out an animal moan that vibrates through Patricia’s body and makes her moan too.

—Now… please —he whispers.

I pull it out slowly, until it comes free with one last wet sound, leaving him open and trembling. I pour lube on my fingers, warm it, and slide one finger into him, then two. He’s relaxed, eager, pushing back against my hand.

—Please, Iván —he begs, voice breaking.

I line up. The tip rests against his freshly opened center and, with slow, firm pressure, I start to enter. The sensation is overwhelming: the heat, the compression, the way his body accepts me. Gustavo arches his back and lets out a cry of pleasure and total surrender. My thrust pushes him forward and drives his own sex all the way into Patricia, who cries out in ecstasy.

I’m inside him. He’s inside her. We’re one.

***

My hands clamp around his waist. I begin to move, not with brute force, but with a deep, controlled rhythm. Each thrust from me pushes his hips forward and hammers his cock into her in one synchronized motion. He is my extension, my instrument for reaching his woman. Gustavo learns the tempo in seconds: he pushes back to take me and throws himself forward to satisfy her.

From the cushion, Patricia’s broken voice cuts through the air.

—Do you like it, darling? Do you like being fucked?

—It’s… wonderful —he pants, forehead beaded with sweat—. It’s like cumming for minutes on end. Every hit from him is an explosion that doesn’t stop.

I speed up. He answers with a cry of delight.

—God… I need more —he begs, turning his head to look at me over his shoulder, eyes unfocused—. Harder, Iván. Please.

His words are the fuel I needed. I tighten my grip and give him what he asks for. The collision of our bodies fills the room, mixed with Patricia’s moans and Gustavo’s cries, which are no longer sentences, only primal sounds of a man discovering a new universe.

From the sofa, her cry sharpens.

—You’re even harder, darling! I’ve never felt you like this!

Every one of my thrusts drives her against the cushions, her body trembling under a current of new sensations. The three of us moan in unison: my low grunt of effort, his constant whimper, her muffled cries disappearing into the upholstery.

***

Suddenly Gustavo’s body tenses completely. His muscles harden under my hands and he goes rigid.

—I’m… about to… cum —he warns in a muffled voice—. Now… now.

A long cry escapes his throat. He convulses in violent spasms as he empties himself inside Patricia, back arched, buttocks clenching around me with each contraction. But I don’t stop. While he cums, I keep going, stretching his ecstasy until it becomes something endless.

When the last shudder runs through him, he collapses on top of her, spent, with my sex still buried in him. For an instant I think it’s over. Then, with a force that seems impossible, he leans forward, lowers his head and starts pleasuring Patricia with his mouth, still with me inside him.

The scene is so perverse it nearly makes me blow instantly. His legs tremble, my sex fills him, and he, with absolute devotion, buries his face between his wife’s thighs, tongue and lips working furiously. Patricia screams at that double stimulation, and each thrust of mine drives his face deeper in. A perfect cycle of submission and desire.

Seeing him like that, given over completely, using him as a bridge for my pleasure and hers, is the image that breaks my control. Heat gathers at the base of my spine, an immense pressure that explodes forward. With a roar that echoes through the whole room, I cum inside him, again and again, until I’m empty. I tremble, collapse over his back, and the three of us are left joined together in sweat and the most glorious exhaustion I can remember.