The Night I Imagined My Girlfriend with Another Man

We were almost done with our degree, and we had been together since before we set foot in university. Lucía is a beautiful woman, with brown hair and fair skin, almond-shaped eyes, and a smile with lips it’s impossible not to want to taste. Her body is an hourglass: unique curves that flow down into thick, firm thighs and big, well-rounded buttocks that drew attention even when she wasn’t trying to. Medium-sized tits, firm, with sensitive nipples that hardened with nothing more than a brush of fabric.

Things were going wonderfully for us. We shared friends, schedules, habits; it was rare for a day to go by when we weren’t together. When the end of our degree came into sight, the last thing we wanted was to separate or stop growing in what we had, so we came up with an idea.

—If we get a scholarship in another city, our parents will definitely help us with part of the expenses —I suggested one afternoon—. And I’ve got some money saved. We could live together without giving up our studies.

—We’re going to get those scholarships —she answered with that confidence I loved so much—. With our grades, it’s just a matter of sending in the applications.

And we got to work. We sent applications for different specializations and master’s programs in several cities, and after weeks of waiting we both got a scholarship in the same place. It was a fact: we were going to live together for the first time, in a new place where we knew no one. I loved the idea of having her close all the time, of being able to fuck her whenever I wanted, and of her being able to do the same to me.

We had already celebrated several anniversaries and still had the same passion as at the beginning, but with the trust that gets built over the years. Our sex life was active, although, all things considered, fairly normal. With one exception I find hard to admit, something that started about eight months earlier and that I told in my first story.

That night didn’t stay an isolated case. I must confess that, though it wasn’t frequent, I went through the same thing a few more times. I’d end up with my dick in my hand, jerking off as I imagined Lucía spreading her legs to touch her cunt while thinking of another man, or doing something else: sucking a stranger off, letting herself be fucked by another cock, letting him come inside her. I’d end up coming with my hand full of semen and shame stuck to my skin. I was ashamed, but that shame didn’t kill the curiosity; on the contrary, it fueled it.

I started reading erotic stories online. I went onto Spanish-language sites and English-language ones, and for some reason I always ended up in stories about infidelity, threesomes, partner swapping, and cuckolding. Those were exactly the themes that aroused my interest and, at the same time, my rejection, as if one part of me wanted it and the other punished itself for wanting it.

—What are you thinking about? —Lucía asked me one night, resting her head on my chest.

—Nothing —I lied—. About the move.

I wasn’t thinking about the move at all. I was thinking about her cunt and who else might be imagining it.

***

Shortly before we left, we decided to go out partying with a group from the university. It was a kind of farewell: not only were we leaving, several others were changing cities or countries. Lucía’s friends were there, their partners, and a couple of other guys. I knew two of the boyfriends and got along well with them. The third one I’d never seen before: Diego, Carla’s boyfriend, a friend Lucía hadn’t seen in a long time.

We met first at a friend’s place to gather before going out all together to the club. Lucía had put on loose pants that, paradoxically, made her ass look even better, and a tight blouse that outlined her figure. Heels lengthened her legs. She looked beautiful, as always, and I noticed the looks that slid over her when she walked in. I saw Diego check out her ass when she turned to greet someone else, and something twisted my guts and my dick at the same time.

At our friend’s house we started drinking. There was beer, and someone opened a bottle of tequila that we emptied between conversation and laughter. When it was gone, we called the taxis and headed to the club. We arrived all buzzed, the music was good, and we got dancing with our partners right away. We ordered another bottle of tequila.

As the songs went by, we were genuinely having a good time. We danced, we laughed, the alcohol had us relaxed and loose. The girls danced among themselves and, every so often, one of them danced with another’s partner, with no apparent malice. I watched it all with a strange mix of calm and something else, a tingle I didn’t want to name.

Later that night I finished my beer and went to get another. The bar was packed, so it took me a couple of minutes to get back. When I returned, I saw Lucía dancing with Diego, Carla’s boyfriend, the friend she hadn’t seen in such a long time. They weren’t glued together or anything weird, and Carla wasn’t in sight, which surprised me a little, but I didn’t want to ruin anyone’s night with unnecessary jealous complaints. I relaxed when Carla appeared a few seconds later with a beer in her hand.

Lucía caught my eye and I understood she wanted to keep dancing with Diego, so Carla and I danced together for a couple of songs. I liked her; she laughed easily and was good company. But every so often my eyes went back to Lucía and Diego, and I noticed how he, without going too far, spoke into her ear to make himself heard over the music. I also noticed how, as the songs went on, his hand kept sliding down from her waist to brush the top of her ass, and how she didn’t move it away.

***

It was close to closing time and we decided to end the night at a friend of Lucía’s place nearby. A couple of the girls would sleep there; the rest of us would head home. We went in, drank water, and laughed about the night’s funny moments and how drunk some of them were. The three taxis arrived. I was leaving with Lucía in the same one: her place was on the way to mine.

At that moment she stopped me at the door.

—Baby, I have to use the bathroom before we go up, I won’t make it till I get home.

—Go quickly —I told her—. I’ll go downstairs and ask the driver to wait a moment.

Those of us leaving by taxi went downstairs. Three friends got into one and left, and Carla and I were left downstairs. A couple of minutes passed and I couldn’t quite understand why she was still there, waiting alone with me.

—Are you leaving with Diego? —I asked her.

—Yeah, he was behind me.

Just then Lucía came out. We said goodbye to Carla and, when we were already getting into the taxi, Diego appeared. If he was coming behind Carla, why had he taken so long to come downstairs? And why had he come out only seconds after Lucía?

My mind couldn’t help making the leap. The bathroom. Both of them upstairs at the same time. The friction of dancing that maybe had heated them up, those couple of careless minutes anyone could use to let out what they’d been holding back all night.

The taxi pulled away. Lucía rested her head on my shoulder, half her eyes closed with exhaustion and alcohol, and I stared out at the streetlights passing by while my mind did exactly what it shouldn’t.

***

I imagined her going into the bathroom and finding Diego there. I imagined her letting herself be kissed with that urgency that comes when you only have a small window for everything, when you know every second counts. I saw him shove his tongue down her throat, his hand clenched on the back of her neck, pressing her against his mouth, and Lucía answering with a low moan, biting his lip the way she bit mine when she was hot.

I saw him spin her against the bathroom wall, kissing her neck, sucking on it hungrily, leaving a mark she’d later hide with her hair. She was holding onto the edge of the sink with both hands, and he was lifting her blouse until the black bra she wore that night showed. I imagined him pushing the cups down, sucking her tits, tugging her nipples with his teeth while she sighed low, biting her hand so nobody on the other side would hear.

I imagined him touching her cunt over those loose pants, fabric so thin it was almost like there was nothing there. I imagined her so wet the moisture would soak through the cloth, that he’d feel it on his fingers and smile when he realized how much she wanted him. I imagined the exact moment she parted her legs a little, almost without meaning to, giving him permission without saying a word. I imagined his hand slipping under the waistband of her pants, pushing her panties aside, sinking two fingers into her soaked cunt, and Lucía throwing her head back, mouth open, voiceless.

—You’re dripping, you slut —he’d say in her ear, without tenderness, with the rough voice of a man who knows he has little time.

—Shut up and fuck me —she’d answer, with that hoarse voice I knew so well, the one she used when she couldn’t take it anymore and wanted the cock inside her already.

I imagined her pulling her pants down to her knees herself, turning her back to him, planting her hands and chest against the cold tiles, arching her ass back to offer it to him. I saw his dick come out of his zipper, thicker than mine, hard, the head shining, and rubbing it a couple of times between those big butt cheeks he’d been eyeing all night on the dance floor.

I imagined him driving into her in one thrust, all at once, without asking, and Lucía muffling the cry with her own hand, eyes closed and a look of pleasure I’d seen on her a hundred times. I imagined him fucking her against the bathroom wall with the urgency of a man who knows people are waiting outside, gripping her hair, yanking her head back, pounding her cunt until her legs began to shake.

—Diego, cum fast, please —she’d beg him between thrusts, in a whisper that wasn’t refusal but haste—. They’re going to notice I’m taking too long.

—Hold on a little longer, bitch, your boyfriend’s waiting downstairs.

And that detail, that dirty comment inside my own head, made me clench my teeth in the taxi seat. I imagined him pulling out of her cunt, turning her around, sitting her on the sink, opening her legs and shoving it back in from the front so he could watch her face while he came. She would wrap her legs around him, dig her heels into his ass, let herself be taken with that farewell desperation, as if she knew it was the only time.

I imagined him coming inside her, not pulling out, filling her with all the load he’d been holding back since the first dance. And Lucía coming on another man’s cock, biting his shoulder so she wouldn’t scream, her cunt squeezing his cock until the last drop. I imagined them staying like that for a few seconds, panting, breathing hard, before he slipped out of her with a wet sound and semen started running down her thigh.

I imagined her wiping herself quickly with toilet paper, pulling her panties back on with another man’s load still inside her, fixing her pants, looking in the mirror, arranging her hair, and going out first. Coming down with me with that tired smile I’d seen on her face and another man’s cock still inside her while she kissed me on the neck to cover it up.

I felt rage. Rage because I couldn’t allow my girlfriend to do something like that, or to have done it. And even more rage because, despite the jealousy and the anger, under my pants I had a dick hard as a rock, pushing against the fabric and betraying me to myself. A drop of pre-cum was dampening my boxer briefs. It would have been enough to put my hand down there and tug four times to come right there, in the taxi seat, a foot away from Lucía’s head.

What is happening to me?

I clenched my jaw and looked out the window. Beside me, Lucía was breathing slowly, completely unaware of the film I was projecting in my head. I wanted to wake her and ask her, shake her and demand the truth. I wanted to slip my hand under her pants right there and then, and find out with my fingers whether her cunt was exactly as I had left it or whether I’d find another man’s semen. And at the same time I didn’t want to, because a dark, silent part of me preferred to stay with the doubt, feed it, let it grow.

I left her at her place with a kiss on the forehead. Half asleep, she murmured “I love you” and went inside. In my own taxi, for the rest of the ride, I thought of nothing else. When I got home I went straight to bed without turning on any lights. I pulled my pants down to my knees, took my dick out and grabbed it with my hand, already soaked with fluid, and jerked off thinking of Lucía leaning over the bathroom sink, Diego’s cock splitting her cunt open while I waited downstairs with Carla. I imagined her coming back to me with another man’s semen dripping from her panties. I imagined licking between her legs, knowing another man had come there first. I came in less than two minutes, mouth open, in silence, shooting a thick stream against my own belly. Then I stayed still, staring at the ceiling, with shame and my heart still pounding hard.

***

The next day I felt ashamed. I blamed the alcohol, the few hours of sleep, the frustration of not being able to sleep together every night. I told myself they were stupid ideas, the product of a mind that spent too much time reading things it shouldn’t and jerking off to stories it shouldn’t be imagining.

Soon, I told myself, there would be no reason for those thoughts. We would be together every night and most of our free time. Those strange reactions, those fantasies that embarrassed me just as much as they made my dick hard, would disappear as soon as we shared a roof and a routine. Distance and doubt would end with living together.

I never asked her what happened in that bathroom. I never told her what I imagined in the taxi, or how I ended up coming alone that early morning, or that that image came back to me many nights later, even when we were already living together in the new city, even when everything was perfect, even while I was fucking her and imagining it was another man. I told myself the move would make it go away.

Right?