The Farewell My Husband Slept Through

There are nights one remembers with guilt and others one remembers with a smile one doesn’t dare show. My farewell night belongs to the second kind, though I never told anyone about it. Not my husband, especially not my husband, who slept through that whole night from beginning to end without noticing a thing.

We had made our way across half the city, hopping from bar to bar, nibbling tapas and toasting the trip we were leaving behind. By the time dawn came, Lucía and Patricia were already too drunk and went home with Tomás and Noelia. Only Hugo, Diego, Bruno, Carla, my husband, and I were still standing, and the night still didn’t want to end.

We went up to the apartment, someone put music on, and Carla and I started dancing in the middle of the living room. My husband could barely stay on his feet. Bruno took his place right away, while Hugo opened bottles and poured the drinks with the calm of a host.

We danced, switching partners every two or three songs, laughing at any nonsense, the heat of the alcohol rising up our necks. When I finally sat down to catch my breath, my husband was already asleep in his chair, the glass still in his hand.

I took it from him carefully. I shook him a little, spoke in his ear, but there was no way. Bruno helped me ease him back onto the sofa, in case he woke up later.

—He’s not coming back to life until tomorrow —Bruno said, amused.

We kept dancing and talking a while longer, not bothering to lower our voices, and he didn’t even stir. Then Hugo suggested we take him to a bed and that we all stay until dawn. Between Diego and Bruno they carried him to one of the bedrooms. I left him in his boxer briefs, covered him with the sheet, and went back to the living room.

When I returned, Carla and Hugo weren’t dancing anymore: they were pressing themselves against the wall in a way that left no room for doubt.

***

I sat on the sofa and Diego settled beside me. He clinked his glass against mine as if toasting, and rested his arm over my shoulders. He had strong arms, the easy look of someone in no hurry.

—Dance? —he asked, placing his other hand on my thigh.

—In a bit —I answered, covering his hand with mine without moving it away.

I kept glancing sideways at Carla and Hugo, who were already kissing like no one else existed in the apartment. Diego brought his mouth to my ear and quietly told me how good I looked tonight. Then he kissed my neck, just below the lobe, and a shiver tightened my shoulders before I could stop it.

He gave a soft laugh. His hand began to climb the inner side of my thigh, under the hem of my short dress, while he kissed my cheek and searched for my mouth. I kissed him back, tangling my tongue with his, and closed my legs, trapping his hand just as his fingers brushed the fabric of my underwear.

We kissed like that for a good while, his hand slowly making its way, my dress inching up little by little to my waist. He laid me back on the sofa and kissed his way down my legs, parting them gently. First he kissed me over the damp fabric, then he moved it aside and went on with his tongue, slow, attentive to every reaction of mine.

I was moaning without trying to hide it, gripping the edge of the cushion, when I opened my eyes and saw Bruno standing next to the sofa, his pants half undone.

—And Carla? —I asked between breaths.

—They want to be alone —he answered, pointing toward one of the closed doors. He stared at us as if asking permission to join in.

I smiled and reached out to pull him closer. His pants fell to the floor. I stroked him through his underwear and then pulled them down, taking him still soft into my mouth. I love that part: feeling him grow slowly, feeling him harden against my tongue. It’s a sensation that drives me wild.

Bruno put one knee on the sofa to bring himself closer to my face. The smell of his skin and Diego’s tongue between my legs had me on the edge of my first orgasm. I ran my tongue over Bruno’s tip, taking him in and out of my mouth as he grew and hardened, and then I came, shaken by Diego’s skill and by his fingers sliding in and out of me.

I lifted my hips, pressing myself into his mouth, my legs trembling, and quickened the pace on Bruno, resting my hand on his ass. Diego sat up, put my legs over his shoulders, and entered me in one thrust, so deep I arched my back and let out a moan muffled by what I had in my mouth.

He started moving with such force that Bruno slipped out of me with every push. I put my hand on his waist to slow him down.

—Let’s go to your room —I said.

***

The three of us went to Diego’s room. They finished undressing me between them, and I did the same to them, since they still had their shirts on. I sat on the bed, completely naked, and took care of them in turns: one with my mouth while I masturbated the other, alternating, while they stroked my breasts and Bruno checked with a finger how wet I was.

When I had Diego in my mouth, Bruno made me turn over and get on all fours. That way I could keep my mouth busy while he came in from behind, holding me by the hips, setting a deep, steady rhythm that made me moan with every thrust.

I had another orgasm in that position. Diego was telling him to hurry up, that he wanted his turn, but I knew Bruno: I knew he could control himself and hold out, and he wasn’t going to give up his place that easily.

At least that’s what I thought, until I felt the pressure change and understood he wasn’t planning to pull out, just change places. He prepared me slowly, patiently, without rushing, while Diego kept my mouth occupied. Between them they had me wrecked with pleasure.

When Bruno was all the way in from behind, holding me firmly by the hips, he started a slow rocking that gradually grew fluid. Then he lifted me until I was sitting on him, we moved to the edge of the bed, and Diego, bending his knees, penetrated me from the front.

I felt completely full, open, split between the two of them. I held my breath, spread my legs as far as I could, and let them in. Bruno against my back, Diego pressing his chest to my breasts, his breath on my neck.

We were one body, fitted together. We stayed still for a few seconds, Diego kissing my mouth, Bruno running his hands down my legs. Then they started moving, first out of sync, then finding a common rhythm that tore a different sound from me with every thrust.

I stopped counting how many times I came. We changed positions several times: sitting, on our sides, laid back over one while the other pounded into me. At some point I felt happy and exhausted at the same time, defeated by so much pleasure.

***

When I opened my eyes, I saw Hugo leaning against the headboard, watching us in silence. He had clearly been there a while.

—And Carla? —I asked, turning my head toward the door.

—Sleeping. Don’t worry about her —he said, coming closer—. This is your farewell night.

He brushed the tip against my lips a couple of times. I opened my mouth and took him in, licking him slowly, feeling him grow against my tongue until I could barely take him in. He moved gently, setting his own pace, while Diego stayed inside me and Bruno held me from behind.

We stayed like that for a long while, all three at once, none of us losing our strength. Bruno was the first to finish: he squeezed me hard, drove himself all the way in, and let out a rough groan, holding me against him until the last tremor. I arched my back and let my mouth go so I could moan freely.

He pulled away slowly, and I was left reclined next to Diego, who took me by the hips and started lifting me up and down on him. Hugo took Bruno’s place and entered me in one go, drawing a cry of surprise and pleasure from me.

We stayed still for a moment, listening to see if anyone woke up in the rest of the house. No one did. Diego started moving again, kissing my nipples, until he finished inside me while I had another orgasm, reclined against his chest.

Hugo didn’t stop. He had patience and stamina to spare, and he knew how to use them. When he was about to finish, he pulled out, rose up over my chest, and came there, holding my head, with an intensity that left me breathless.

***

We rested for a good while. I think I even fell asleep, because I woke up with someone’s hands trailing over my back and a mouth seeking mine. Without opening my eyes, I knew exactly who each one was. I let them do as they pleased, half asleep, my body heavy and satisfied.

That’s how we spent a good part of the early morning, between lazy caresses and sudden surges of desire that kept returning without warning. And in the morning, before my husband woke up, the three of them came looking for me again at once, slowly, like a farewell within the farewell.

The four of us ended up exhausted, sweaty, and silent, with that conspiratorial laugh of people sharing a secret no one else will ever know. I untangled myself from the mass of arms and legs, got in the shower, and washed slowly, going over every detail under the hot water.

Then I got dressed and went to wake my husband, who was still where we’d left him, sunk in a championship-level hangover.

—Good morning —I told him, as fresh as if nothing had happened—. You missed an incredible party.

He laughed with his head in his hands and believed me. And I kept that night to myself, the way one keeps the things one knows will never happen again.