The Night We Fulfilled Our Shared Fantasy
The vacation came after fourteen months without taking a break. Fourteen months in which Roberto and I had crossed paths in the hallway at home more than in the same room. Work, commitments, the accumulated exhaustion. All of that was ending that Friday when I closed my suitcase and dragged it to the door.
The apartment belonged to my parents: a four-story building two minutes from the sand, with four flats per floor, shops on the ground level, and underground parking for the owners. We had been going there since we were dating, and we knew almost everyone who came. That year there was one new development: the corner apartment on our landing had changed hands, and we still didn’t know who would be moving in.
We arrived midmorning. The sun was already beating down hard and I had no intention of keeping myself covered any longer. Without opening the suitcases, I grabbed my swimsuit, a towel, and sunscreen, and told Roberto the sea was waiting for us.
We said hello to the usual neighbors, found a spot on the sand, and spread out our towels. I took off my T-shirt and stayed only in the bottom half of my bikini. I’m not especially exhibitionist, but June sun is an invitation that’s hard to refuse. My nipples went hard in the breeze the moment I set them free, and I felt two or three heads turn from the neighboring towels. Roberto lay down, put on his sunglasses, and pretended to read, though I knew perfectly well he wasn’t reading. I also knew he was getting hard under his trunks, because I’ve known him for years and that look of feigned indifference always means the same thing.
A little later, the four of them arrived.
Our neighbor from the second floor introduced them to us. Víctor was the new owner of the apartment on our landing, a man in his fifties, broad-shouldered, with the kind of presence that never needs to raise its voice. Beside him, Marcos was in his forties, quiet, with a smile that appeared rarely but, when it did, meant business. The other two were clearly younger: Diego, about twenty-five, broad in the shoulders and with that easy movement of someone who plays sports without being obsessed about it, and Pablo, a year or two older, dark-haired, with eyes that looked straight at you without asking permission.
There wasn’t much room left near us, so they put their towels right beside ours. While they stripped down to their swimwear, I didn’t look away. Diego had a thick bulge under the wet fabric of his trunks, and Pablo, when he bent down to place his towel, was clearly hanging a long cock off to one side. They were looking at me too, shamelessly staring at my tits, and I could feel it without needing to check. I let them know with a smile, and they answered the same way.
Roberto lowered his glasses for a moment, looked at me out of the corner of his eye, and went back to his book.
Diego and Pablo went into the water at once. They started tossing a ball around with the water up to their waists. I got up without anyone inviting me and joined them; it’s the kind of game I like, with no clear rules and no one keeping score. I ran through the waves, jumped when one came in, and every time my tits came out of the water I felt both of their eyes fixed on my nipples. Pablo got a little too close once, and I felt, against my hip, the hard shaft of his cock straining the trunks. I didn’t move away. I held his gaze for a long second, and he smiled without apologizing. At some point he swam off on his back and took several minutes to come back; I knew he was touching himself under the water.
When I got out of the water, Víctor was sitting beside Roberto. The two of them were looking out to sea with their drinks. Marcos was lying on his back with a hat over his face.
I dried off slowly. I wasn’t in any hurry. I ran the towel over my tits two more times than necessary, knowing Víctor was staring at me openly, and I felt my bikini bottoms getting wet, and it wasn’t seawater.
***
In the afternoon we rested, ate something light in the apartment, and when the sun had gone down completely we went out looking for atmosphere. The night ended at an open-air nightclub on the edge of town, with music mixing with the sound of the sea and tables around a dance floor that had no free space left by midnight.
Roberto doesn’t dance. He never has, and now he has no intention of starting. His thing is sitting down, ordering something, and watching me. That’s what he likes: seeing me in clothes that draw attention, seeing me on the dance floor, seeing me when someone comes over. The closer they get, the more he likes it. It’s one of the few things I discovered about him late that fit exactly with what I already wanted.
Diego and Pablo pulled me out to dance almost as soon as we arrived. They put me between them, and the music did the rest. At first they kept a certain distance, just enough so nothing would seem obvious. Then the dance floor filled up and that distance gradually disappeared. Their hands on my hips, my back against one of their chests, the rhythm spelling out what language would have taken longer to say. Diego pressed against me from behind, and I felt his cock, hard as a rock, fitting itself between my ass cheeks over my skirt. Pablo in front held my hips and rubbed himself against my stomach without any attempt to hide it. I was between two hard cocks and it didn’t bother me one bit. On the contrary, I swayed in a way that let them both know I was feeling them.
At some point one of my straps slipped down. I don’t know which one of them did it. My neckline ended up hanging by a thread, and none of the three of us did anything to fix it. I felt a hand—I think Pablo’s—slip for a second inside the neckline and pinch my nipple. A gasp escaped me, and the music covered it up.
A short distance away, Víctor and Marcos were sitting with Roberto. The three of them had their drinks in hand, watching the dance floor. Víctor said something that made Roberto laugh. Marcos wasn’t looking at the dance floor; he was looking at Roberto.
Diego leaned toward my ear.
“Come outside with us for a minute,” he said. “Just a minute. We’ll both suck you off back there, or fuck you, whatever you want.”
“No,” I answered without stopping dancing, though my cunt tightened at the words.
A while later it was Pablo who tried, with fewer words and more hands. He pressed against my back and slid his hand under my skirt, two fingers brushing my bikini right above my pussy. I was soaked, and he noticed. He smiled against my neck and whispered something about how wet I was. I told him no too, though I left his hand there a few seconds longer than necessary. And when Víctor got up and came to dance for a few minutes, his hands went straight where they wanted to go—one on my ass, the other weighing my tit through the fabric—and his offer was the most direct of the three.
“If I’d wanted to leave with someone,” I told him, “you’d have been waiting outside for a while already.”
Víctor smiled. He didn’t seem offended at all. Before letting go of me, he brushed his thumb over my nipple and pinched it through my blouse.
When the four of them left, we stayed a little longer. I sat next to Roberto and told him what had happened with the three of them. I also told him about Pablo’s hand between my legs, and that I was soaked. I saw Roberto swallow and saw the hard outline of his cock in his pants.
“And Marcos?” he asked.
“Marcos didn’t say anything to me. He was with you all night.”
Roberto took a while to answer.
“He was very nice,” he said. “Very attentive. While he was talking to me, he kept looking at my lips. Maybe I’m wrong.”
He wasn’t wrong, but we found that out later.
***
We walked back along the seafront. The night was clear and it was hot enough not to make you hurry. We talked about what we had been talking about for some time: our fantasy. It wasn’t something new between us. We had spent years turning it over, sharing it in low voices in the dark of our bedroom, adding details like people building something they know will one day be finished.
We had tried twice. Both times we got to the liberal club our friends had told us about, stood in front of the door, and didn’t go in. The third time we did go up, we talked to the girl at the entrance, we listened to the rules. And then we left anyway, not really knowing why. It wasn’t the place. It wasn’t the people.
What we wanted was specific: someone who wanted both of us. Not just me.
“Tonight came close,” I said as we walked.
“Yeah,” Roberto replied. “And not just for you.”
We went down to the garage in the elevator. Roberto had left something in the car and wanted to pick it up before going upstairs. He opened the metal garage door and the first thing we saw was that all the cars were in their spaces. All except ours.
That meant no one was missing.
But the four of them were in the garage.
Víctor spoke first, leaning against the hood of his car with his arms crossed, unhurried.
“You’ve been playing with us all day,” he said. “At the beach, in the club. Both of you. We know what you want, and it’s the same thing we want.”
Diego held me by the shoulders from behind. Not hard, but firmly. Pablo went toward Roberto. Marcos stood still where he was, looking at my husband.
I struggled for a moment, more out of instinct than conviction. Roberto tensed too. But when Víctor came toward me and started very slowly lowering the strap of my blouse, with that calm he had for everything, something in me recognized I had been waiting for that exact movement for hours.
I looked at Roberto. He looked at me.
In that silence we said everything.
“All right,” I said out loud. “But make it quick, because it’s hot in this garage.”
Roberto let out a short laugh, almost involuntary. Marcos took that moment to step closer to him and whisper something in his ear. Roberto listened. He nodded.
And that was the whole prologue.
***
Víctor finished lowering my blouse and pulled it off over my head. The bikini top was underneath, so I was out of my tits in two movements: first the fabric falling away, then Víctor’s hands lifting the weight of each one and weighing them like someone checking ripe fruit. He bent down and sucked one nipple while he pinched the other between his thumb and forefinger. Diego, still behind me, yanked my skirt up to my waist and pulled the bikini bottoms down my thighs. I felt his fingers opening my cunt from behind, checking how soaked I was.
“She’s dripping,” Diego said, and he didn’t say it to me, he said it for the other three.
Víctor spread a blanket over the hood of his car. Before kneeling in front of him, I pulled down his trousers and his boxers in one go. His hard cock sprang free, thick, with the tip already shining. It wasn’t the longest I’d seen, but it was one of the thickest, with veins standing out all along the shaft. I took it with both hands and put it in my mouth as far as I could, which wasn’t very far at first. I knew what I was doing: I guided him not with haste but with intent, one hand in my hair, his weight leaning back. Every time I looked up, I found him staring at me, mouth slightly open and chest rising slowly, and out of the corner of my eye I could see Roberto a little farther on.
“That’s it, beautiful,” Víctor murmured. “Take it all. You can do it.”
I opened my throat wider and tried. I choked, tears sprang to my eyes, a thread of saliva slipped from the corner of my mouth, and he loved it. He held my head and started moving himself, fucking my mouth with short, controlled thrusts, until I felt the tip hitting the back of my throat and realized I was running out of air. Just before he let me go, my face was already soaked with spit, with drool hanging from my chin down to my tits.
Marcos had Roberto pressed against a garage column. He had opened his shirt and was touching him with the confidence of someone who clearly hadn’t done this with a man for the first time. He licked my husband’s nipples and unfastened his belt at the same time. Roberto wasn’t resisting. Roberto had his eyes closed and his mouth slightly open with an expression I knew by heart, but that night it had a different intensity. When Marcos pulled his cock out of his pants and started jerking him off slowly, very slowly, Roberto let out a rough groan that echoed against the concrete. Marcos knelt and took him in his mouth in one go, all the way to the base. I saw it, and Roberto saw me seeing it, and I felt a hot tug in my belly.
We had spent years looking for this. Not fully knowing it, but looking for it.
Diego laid me on the blanket and spread my legs. Before putting it in, he bent down and ran his tongue over my cunt from top to bottom, all of it, unhurried. He found my clit and stayed there, sucking it, sliding two fingers into me and curling them upward until I was arched against the hood and gripping his head with my thighs. I came the first time like that, against his mouth, with a scream that came out of my stomach. Only then did he stand up, pull out his cock—long, curved, with a pink tip—and position himself between my legs. He drove into me in one thrust and I screamed again, this time from the impact. He buried it all the way in and stayed there for a second, looking at me, letting me adjust to the thickness of his cock.
“Fuck me,” I told him. “Fuck me now, don’t stop.”
And he fucked me. Hard, dry, with his thighs slamming against the inside of mine and my tits bouncing against my chin with every thrust. Pablo came up beside me, pulled out his cock—the longest of the four, slim, dark—and I took it in my mouth while Diego fucked me. I took it all the way from the side, my cheek pressed against his stomach, and Pablo started moving his hips calmly, letting himself be sucked without rushing me. With my free hand I went for his balls and massaged them slowly, and he let out a groan and moved my hair away from my face to see me better.
When Víctor came back, he positioned himself behind me. Diego pulled out, they turned me over on the blanket, and I ended up on all fours over the hood, ass raised. Víctor spat on my asshole and smeared it in well with his fingers, one first, then two, opening me slowly. I told him it had been a while since anyone had given it to me there and to be careful. He didn’t say anything; he just spat again, this time on the tip of his cock, and pushed in millimeter by millimeter until I felt myself opening all the way. Diego, in front, got between my legs again and slid his cock into my cunt at the same time. Both of them inside. Both moving in alternation, one going in and the other coming out, setting a rhythm that had me moaning with my mouth open. Pablo brought his cock to my face and I sucked it as best I could, tongue out, letting him push it in until I was gagging.
The three of them at once for a good while. I was three holes full and four hands were groping my tits, my hair, my face. I came again, with Víctor’s cock in my ass and Diego’s in my cunt, and felt both of them tighten their hands on my hips when they noticed my legs trembling.
On the other side of the garage, Marcos and Roberto had gone to the back seat of a car with the door open. I could see them in profile. Marcos was on top of Roberto, their cocks rubbing against each other, and he was jerking both off at once with one hand. Then Marcos lay face down on the seat and said something to Roberto that I couldn’t hear. Roberto moved behind him, his cock hard and shining with saliva, and entered him slowly. I had never seen my husband put it into a man. I stood frozen with Diego still inside me, watching Roberto drive his hips against Marcos’s ass, watching Marcos pull his arm back, watching both of them moan at the same time. Marcos was careful with Roberto, I saw that too. And Roberto, my husband of eight years, was receiving and giving something we had never put into words but both knew would happen sooner or later.
We changed. Víctor went with Roberto for a while. I saw Víctor position himself behind my husband and enter him with the same calm he used for everything, and I saw Roberto open his mouth without making a sound and then let out a long groan when Víctor started moving inside him. Marcos came back to me and took me from behind while I leaned against the car hood. Marcos fucked differently: slower, deeper, with his hands around my tits, squeezing them until it hurt. He bit my shoulder and whispered in my ear how good my cunt felt clenching around his cock, how badly he had wanted to fuck me since the beach.
Diego and Pablo took care of each other on the blanket. Pablo lying on his back, legs in the air, and Diego kneeling, fucking him with hard thrusts. Pablo masturbated while Diego penetrated him, and he looked at me out of the corner of his eye, and at one point he held out his hand and I leaned in to suck his balls while Diego kept giving it to him from behind.
There was a moment when I had two of them at once, one in front and one behind, and my hands busy with the other two. Four cocks at the same time. I was a thing in the middle of a swarm of hard cocks and didn’t know what to focus on, so I just let myself go and came again, and again, until I lost count.
There was another moment when Roberto and I were together, him inside me, Marcos behind him at the same time, and we looked at each other very closely without saying anything. I could feel every thrust from Marcos because it came through Roberto, and Roberto held my face with both hands, his forehead pressed to mine, breathing into my mouth. That look was worth more than any conversation we could have had before. He whispered that he loved me, and I told him I loved him too, and we kept fucking like that, the three of us chained together.
We changed places and partners several more times. We tried everything there is to try when there are six people who want the same thing. I sucked all four of them, one after another, kneeling on the floor while they passed my head among themselves like a ball. Roberto did too. I saw my husband with Diego’s cock in his mouth and Pablo’s in his hand, and I felt nothing but the urge to come again.
Between them, they did things I stopped watching at some point because I had too much to focus on.
They came one by one. Víctor first, in my mouth, and I swallowed every drop without letting a single one spill, looking him in the eyes while the thick semen slid down my throat. Diego came on my tits, long hot spurts that reached my neck. Pablo came inside Marcos’s ass, with a rough cry that echoed through the whole garage. And Marcos, the last one, finished inside Roberto, wrapped around his back, biting his shoulder. Roberto came at the same time, over my stomach, with Marcos’s hand milking his cock for the last drop.
When we were done, I was smeared with semen—mine, theirs, saliva, sweat—lying on the blanket with my legs still open, unable to move. Roberto collapsed beside me, breathing hard. We found each other’s hand and squeezed it.
We dressed in silence, without shame. Víctor folded up the blanket. Diego found a couple of water bottles in his trunk and passed them around. Pablo lit a cigarette and shared it with Marcos.
“Good night,” said Víctor, with the same calm as at the beginning.
***
We went up in the elevator without talking. In the apartment I let myself fall onto the sofa without turning on a single light. Roberto sat down beside me.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Better than okay,” I said.
We stayed like that for a while, in the dark, with the air conditioner humming in the background and the windows open to the sea.
The rest of the vacation was different. We had breakfast with Víctor almost every morning before going to the beach. The four of them together sometimes, the three of us alone other times. Sometimes Roberto and I talked about that night in the garage, and we did it without shame, the way you remember something that was worth it and deserves to be remembered precisely.
We stayed in touch with Víctor. Next summer we’re going back to the apartment.
I don’t know whether what we have has a name. What I do know is that since that night Roberto and I are more us, not less. So many years looking for that, and it appeared when we least expected it, in the garage of an apartment building two minutes from the sea.