The Night the Bar Couple Took Me Home

It was mid-October in Rosario and the air was already starting to hang heavy like the middle of summer. Pelado’s farewell had been in the works for weeks, and by then we all knew the plan was simple: two nights with no brakes, no phone, and no obligations.

Friday kicked off at my place with a long barbecue, fernet, and cheap red wine. After two in the morning, we got into two remises and headed for a private club in the Funes area, one of those places where you couldn’t go in with your phone in your pocket. You left it in a locker at the entrance or you didn’t get through the door.

Inside, everything was loose at first. The five of us wandered around like teenagers on their first club night, looking everywhere and not quite daring to do anything. Ruso, who spoke English well, clicked quickly with two Norwegian tourists drinking at the bar. Pelado, who was the guest of honor, ended up glued to Ruso. That left Tucu, Lobo, and me.

Within minutes I saw the two of them leave with a pair of women in their forties for a private room, after they’d paid for some drinks and, I suspect, a few bills up front too. I was left alone at one of the high tables with a half-finished glass, trying to make a move on a well-put-together woman who was wandering around there. When I got close, she made it clear, without much fuss, that she was looking for another girl to play scissors with. I smiled, stepped aside, and drifted again.

I was about to give up when I saw a couple on a sofa in the corner. She was in her forties, looking good for it, in a black dress and with a very calm smile. He was around fifty and clearly spent more time than he should have in the gym.

She locked eyes with me, raised her glass, and toasted me from afar. I lifted mine and stood frozen where I was, not quite sure whether she was inviting me to something or whether it was a trick to make him jealous. A few seconds later he stood up, walked over to where I was, and nodded for me to come with them.

“Come on, sit with us,” he said, and didn’t wait for an answer.

The woman ended up in the middle of the two of us. We talked about anything and everything for a long while: the trip to Cariló the previous summer, Sunday’s match, his job, running a logistics company. She listened a lot, looked little, always smiled. Every now and then she would rest her hand on my leg to underline something and leave it there a second longer than necessary.

“We’ve got an apartment just over there, in Pichincha,” he said suddenly. “Want to come have a drink somewhere quieter?”

I looked at the woman. The woman looked at me.

“He gets turned on watching me with another guy,” she added, not lowering her voice. “It’s not the first time. But you choose.”

I didn’t have much to think about. I nodded, finished my drink, and the three of us left together.

In the remis he kept talking nonstop. He said he wanted her to suck us both off at the same time, that she was going to take care of us the way we deserved, that the woman was an expert. He said it slowly, almost in a whisper, as if he were selling me something. She squeezed my thigh and looked out the window.

The apartment was on the seventh floor with a balcony overlooking the Paraná. As soon as we got in, he went to the kitchen to get a sparkling wine and three glasses. She didn’t waste any time: she gently pushed me against the living room wall, ran her hand over my pants, and whispered in my ear that she was dying to feel another cock in her home, that she wanted all three holes full before the night was over.

“Hey, don’t start without me!” came a voice from the kitchen.

She laughed, bent down, pulled my zipper open, and took me out. She started sucking me slowly, looking up at me from below, while he appeared with the opened bottle and the three glasses. He poured, handed me one, and raised his own.

“To this beautiful woman who brought us all together here,” he said, toasted with me, and lowered his hand to unzip his pants too.

His was average, neither more nor less. She took it into her mouth, alternated between the two cocks, and at one point signaled for us to come together. She wanted both of them in her mouth at the same time. When my cock touched her husband’s, I felt a strange shiver: it was the first time something like that had ever happened to me. But she worked magic with her tongue and I stopped thinking.

“Sit there,” she told me, almost like an order, pointing to the sofa. “I’m going to ride yours first.”

I sat down. She lifted her dress, pulled her black thong aside, and, with her back to me, settled on top of me. The husband stayed standing beside us, slowly jerking off while he watched.

“Come here, love,” she told him after a while. “I want to suck it.”

He came closer. She took him in her mouth while still moving on top of me. She had a well-worked ass, firm, round, and she didn’t stop moving for even a second. The three of us were still half dressed: she with her dress bunched up around her waist, us with our pants low but our shirts still on. There was something about that that turned me on more than if we’d been naked from the start.

“Lick my ass,” she ordered, turning around and riding me again. “And you, spread my cheeks while he puts it in me from the front.”

I grabbed her ass and pulled it apart. The husband positioned himself, came closer, and buried his tongue in her asshole. She moaned softly, biting her lip. Then she asked him to change: to put it in her from behind, because she wanted to feel both of us inside her at the same time.

When he started pushing, I felt him through the thin wall between the two holes. A very strange sensation, almost like a vibration. She started moving slowly, finding the rhythm of both cocks, and within seconds she was already saying she was a happy whore, that she wanted to keep this up all night, that nothing got her hotter than having two men inside her.

“Take me out and suck it the way you know how,” she told her husband without warning.

He obeyed. He knelt beside the sofa and started sucking her balls and perineum while she took my hands, put them behind my head, and sped up the ride. I thought he was going to go back to licking her ass, but when I looked down I found him with his mouth on me. He sucked me, licked me, squeezed me.

“Relax,” she whispered in my ear while unbuttoning my shirt. “Few mouths like my husband’s are going to cross your path in life. I promise you that.”

He pulled my pants off without my noticing. She took off my shirt. Between the two of them they left me naked on the sofa, without me offering any resistance. She pulled her dress off over her head and was left in just the black thong and a pair of slim heels she hadn’t even taken off.

We hadn’t been in the apartment half an hour and already a woman and a man had sucked my cock, I’d done double penetration with a stranger, and I was about to cross one more line. The night was promising, and it wasn’t even three in the morning yet.

She mounted me again. The husband settled underneath, lifted my legs, and kept working on me with his tongue. First the perineum. Then the hole. Then a finger, slowly. The only time someone had ever put anything in me had been a trans woman a few months earlier, in an apartment in Fisherton. And that had been short and almost accidental.

I felt the head of his cock pushing, slowly but without asking permission.

“Hey, your husband wants to fuck me,” I said to her, half seriously, half laughing.

“Relax,” she answered, never stopping moving on top of me. “He’s just going to poke you a little so it gets even harder. Trust me.”

But the son of a bitch didn’t just poke me. He put real pressure on, opened me little by little, and shoved himself all the way in. He drove his cock into me farther than anything had ever gone before.

“Get mad and get even,” he whispered in my ear, holding onto my hips. “Come on, get mad and get even.”

I didn’t know what to say or do. I had a beautiful woman riding me and her husband fucking me at the same time. My first bisexual threesome, and they were the ones writing the script.

“Take him out,” I finally told him.

He moved away without protest and stayed standing at the side, watching us. The woman kept spearing herself on my cock for a few more seconds and then spoke softly to me:

“He misbehaved, didn’t he? You have to punish him. Wait until you see what a little ass he has.”

She stood up. He had already taken everything off and put on a woman’s thong, black, tight. He was turned around, waiting.

“Tell me my husband doesn’t have the best ass,” she said, smiling.

He didn’t have much hip, but his ass was firm, round, completely shaved. I’d slept with women who didn’t have an ass that good. She wet two fingers with saliva, pulled his thong aside, and started sliding them in slowly.

“He fucked you without permission,” she told me. “Get even. Don’t you feel like fucking my little fag husband?”

“Yes, sir, fuck me,” he said at once, still facing away. “I was bad, make me pay. I need meat inside.”

It was a domination game set up ahead of time, that was obvious. But I wasn’t going to be left out.

“Come here, suck my cock,” I ordered. “Get it nice and wet so I can slide it in at once.”

He threw himself to the floor and the woman knelt beside him. The two of them sucked me together, in a two-mouth blowjob that still makes me feel things when I remember it today. When I was hard as a rock, I signaled to him to get on all fours and the woman spread his cheeks with her hands.

I pushed and it all went in at once. No problem, no complaint. Just a soft “yes, yes, yes” that started getting louder as I found a rhythm. She lay on her back under the husband and he, without anyone asking him to, started licking her pussy while I fucked him. She got off twice over: from the oral and from the show.

“Oh, I’m such a fag, I love it so much!” he said. “Put it all the way in, come on.”

“What a good stud we found today, my love,” she answered. “Let’s do a train before one of us blows.”

The woman settled underneath and he started fucking her while I kept fucking him. Three bodies moving in a single chain, one single rhythm. I held on as long as I could.

“Wait, wait,” he said suddenly. “I’m about to come. Don’t take it out, fuck me more.”

I felt his ass tighten more and more. If I let him finish like that, I was going to cum too. I gave a few final thrusts, pulled my cock out halfway, and grabbed the base with my hand to stop myself. As soon as he finished cumming inside her, the woman wriggled free from below and got herself on all fours.

“Now me,” she said.

I shoved it all the way in with one thrust.

“Oh, that feels so good! No wonder you came already, with this dick up your ass anyone would.”

I focused on not cumming. Ten long minutes of moving inside her, slapping that gym-built ass that never seemed to get tired. I was in the middle of that when I felt the husband pressed against my back. He wanted revenge and I was in such a state that I didn’t care. He started fucking me in the ass again, this time without asking anything. I kept fucking her.

It was a give-and-take train. Going forward filled me with pleasure; going back filled me with something else. I don’t know when I lost count.

“Let us know when you’re about to come,” she said.

“Soon,” I answered.

He gave me a couple more thrusts, pulled out, and the two of them knelt in front of me with their mouths open. I let everything I had go. They fought over the cum, kissed with it on their tongues, and in the end he cleaned my cock until it was shining.

I let myself sink into the sofa. I poured myself more sparkling wine and watched them kiss on the floor, exhausted, still sticky. A few minutes later I got hard again and the two of them repeated the two-mouth blowjob. He finished by jerking off at the side while I focused on her tongue. Then I grabbed her, threw her onto her back on the rug, and drove my cock into her until I came inside her. Five minutes. My body couldn’t handle any more.

I got up, got dressed, called a remis, and headed down without making much noise. It was six in the morning and Rosario was starting to brighten up over the river.

On the way back I touched my pants pocket and felt something. I pulled out my hand and there were three neatly folded one-hundred-dollar bills, with a little note that said, in block letters: “Whenever you want, we can do it again.”

I’d been a taxi boy for one night and I still hadn’t realized it.