The Pact Marina Kept Until Thirty

It was Wednesday. I remember because on Wednesdays nothing ever happened between us, and that’s why what took place that night left a mark on me forever. We had been together for almost three years, and our routine in bed had turned into a repeated script: the same steps, the same order, the same lukewarm ending. I loved her; that was not in doubt. But desire had been fading like a candle nobody bothered to shield from the wind.

Marina had prepared everything without warning me. We had dinner at the little table in the back garden, on the open porch overlooking the pool, and I noticed she was different. Quieter, more attentive, with a smile that came and went as if she were rehearsing something inside.

—I want to do something for you —she said, and pushed the plates aside before taking out her laptop.

She set it on the table and opened it. A page was already loaded, and when she hit play I understood what it was: a scene of a tattooed blonde moving slowly in front of a man seated on a sofa, with soft music in the background. But I barely looked at the screen. Marina had stood up in front of me and began copying every gesture the actress made, step by step. It was obvious she had studied it.

Marina is brunette, pretty without being dazzling, with slightly downturned eyes that give her something sweet. What takes your breath away is everything else. At thirty, she takes care of her body with a discipline that makes people envious, and when she goes to the gym every gaze follows her, no matter the age of the man looking. She knows it, and she plays with it. That night, as the fabric fell away to the rhythm of the music, all I could think about was how lucky I was.

Her breasts were bared, and the small silver ring in one of her nipples caught the light from the pool. She never stopped looking me in the eyes. She only lowered her gaze for a second, to the obvious bulge under my trousers, and gave a short, satisfied laugh. Then she took my hand, made me stand, and without breaking eye contact knelt and yanked my trousers down in one pull.

She pulled my hand again until I was sitting on the edge of the pool. And then, with a nearly childlike cry, she threw herself into the water, which was surely freezing, and swam to my legs. She grabbed the coping and started working me with her tongue from below, watching me the whole time. The wet warmth of her mouth and the cold air on my skin were two opposite sensations pulling at me at once.

I have to confess something she doesn’t know. These days I find it harder and harder to finish, and there is only one fantasy that takes me to the edge without fail: imagining her with other men. While Marina went up and down, while she took me to the back of her throat and I heard her hold back a gag, I looked at the sky and imagined her in the gym locker room, surrounded by three fit guys just over twenty, with a look of desire she had never shown me.

God, the way that gets me off, picturing her like that, completely lost.

That image was enough. I wanted to pull away with my hands when I felt I was about to come, but she clung tighter and sped up, determined not to let a single drop escape. It was strange: she never let me do that. That night, though, it seemed like there was nothing else she wanted. I came out with a shout the neighbors must have heard, and for a moment the idea that someone might be listening turned me on all over again.

***

Afterward we lay sprawled on the garden hammocks, naked, catching our breath. I offered to return the favor, but she shook her head.

—I only wanted this tonight —she said—. Though... the truth is I did have to ask you for something. I’m embarrassed.

—Let go of the embarrassment —I told her—. There’s trust. You ask, and then I’ll see whether I say yes.

—Right, sure, as if that helps —she muttered, frowning with that spoiled little-girl expression she can make, the one that melts me.

—Tell me now, or I’m going to imagine worse things.

And it was true. My head was already full of images, and this time they weren’t exciting. They were jealousy.

—Do you remember Adrián, my friend from high school? —she began, not daring to look at me—. The one in the graduation photo, next to the fountain.

I remembered him. Marina had told me that when they were young, Adrián had been very unsure of what he liked, and in the end he had decided he preferred men.

—What did you do, Marina? —I blurted, assuming she’d cheated.

—Nothing, you idiot —she laughed sweetly—. I haven’t seen him in ten years. But when we were twenty, we made a pact. If I reached thirty without having slept with a man, or he without having slept with a woman, we’d do it together. A kind of promise so we wouldn’t be left wondering.

I stayed quiet. I could see where this was going.

—Adrián turned thirty the day before yesterday. And yesterday he called me. He’s only ever been with men. He wants to fulfill the pact.

—You must have told him you have a partner.

—Of course I did. And he said... to ask you.

I was speechless. What’s curious is that the proposal hit me right where my fantasy burns hottest. He hadn’t tried to go behind my back or convince her without me: the moment he knew she was with me, he asked to include me. I was jealous and aroused in equal measure, a strange mix that pulled me in opposite directions. And then, more relaxed than I had ever been, I made a decision.

—Okay. Where and when?

Marina grinned from ear to ear and threw herself on me. She kissed me with a happiness I hadn’t seen in months, and when she felt me hard again she looked at me with a kind of pride, as if she had just discovered her boyfriend was far more open-minded than she thought.

***

We set only one condition, and she passed it on to Adrián: I was in charge. I was not going to be the man watching from a corner while someone else enjoyed himself. I would take part, and it would be done the way I said, as I said it. They both agreed.

From Wednesday until Saturday I could think of nothing else. I arrived at his house with the nerves of a teenager. He lived in a gated community of villas with access control at the entrance; you had to cross a barrier just to reach the gate. Marina looked spectacular, in a red-and-black dress with geometric cutouts that showed exactly the parts that made her impossible to ignore: her flat stomach, rounded shoulders, the line of her neckline dropping until it disappeared. If we had gone to a bar in that dress, men with partners would have approached her too.

Adrián opened the door wearing an impeccable suit. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with a groomed beard that gave him a deeply masculine air. For a second, jealousy tightened my stomach again. But he was quick: he put a beer in my hand almost immediately and always positioned himself on the opposite side from Marina, leaving me in the center, as if he wanted me never to doubt who was in charge there.

We went down a hallway amid laughter and stories from his youth until we reached a huge living room with a fireplace and a bar. But the laughter stopped dead. On one of the sofas sat a man, well dressed, looking at us with a tight jaw.

—This is Bruno, my husband —Adrián said, uncomfortable—. He doesn’t want to stay. He only wanted to see who you were.

—I wanted to see the faces of the ones who are going to fuck my husband without a second thought —Bruno snapped, standing up.

Adrián tried to smooth it over, but there was nothing to smooth over. Bruno crossed the room and left the house without looking back. He would never appear again.

Now alone, the three of us, Adrián broke the tension with a good whiskey. Marina doesn’t drink, so she stuck to water. I barely wet my lips; I didn’t want to lose my head. He, on the other hand, emptied his glass in one gulp and refilled it.

—It’s good —he said—, but it hits hard.

***

We were looking at one another, not knowing who should make the first move, until Adrián spoke with a frankness that cut through the air.

—You know what? Since the call, I’ve been jerking off two or three times a day thinking about today.

I laughed. I was about to say something when Marina beat me to it.

—Well, I’ve worn the batteries out on the toy from rubbing myself so much.

There I was, arriving a bundle of nerves, and it turned out the three of us were just as worked up.

—Then let’s drop the conversation —I said, surprised by my own composure—. Start by kissing.

They stood up, face to face, and kissed while I watched from a sunken armchair. I expected jealousy. I felt none. Marina had repeated all week that this was a one-off, that the one she wanted was me. What I didn’t tell her is that I knew she wanted more too, and that was exactly what excited me.

She stretched an arm toward me, searching for my hand. I stood and joined them. I kissed her shoulder while Adrián kissed her neck, both of us with our hands at her waist. Our fingers brushed by accident and, instead of pulling away, lingered for a beat too long. Marina rubbed herself against both of us over her clothes, one hand on each, moaning every time her tongue met one of ours.

With a practiced motion she let the dress fall to her waist. Her breasts were exposed, covered in a golden sheen she had applied on purpose. I went for her nipple, the one with the ring, while Adrián tended to the other. She held our heads, her gaze fixed on the ceiling, eyes closed.

When the dress came all the way off, Marina knelt on the carpet and focused on Adrián. I stepped back to watch. His cock was thinner than mine, maybe a little longer, straight, without a curve. And while I watched her take him into her mouth, his beard brushing her forehead, a ridiculous question crossed my mind: would it really feel that different? I pushed it away at once. I hadn’t gone there for that. Or so I thought.

Adrián lifted her by the shoulders and brought her back toward me. Marina kissed me, tongue deep in my mouth, and at once he was kissing the corner of her lips, so the three of us ended up rubbing against one another. She took my hand and guided it between her legs. She was soaked. I slid two fingers inside her and, looking, I saw Adrián doing the same from behind. Marina went from moan to scream, up on tiptoe, unable to take so much at once. It was the first time I had seen her that overwhelmed, and the three of us ended up kissing without order or rules.

***

Then Adrián disappeared for a moment and came back carrying a tantric sofa with straps hanging from it. Marina smiled: the night kept leveling up. She lay back and I went back to tasting her while she tended to Adrián with her mouth, the moans broken between one breath and the next.

We kept changing positions as the night went on. I fucked her while she kept him in her mouth. Then she asked to ride me, and I lay back. The shape of the sofa made everything easier; he entered with hardly any friction because of how wet she was. Adrián positioned himself behind her, with a condom, and little by little made his way in through the other side. Marina dug her nails into my chest and left a mark.

—Should we stop? —I asked when I saw the effort on his face.

—No, no... keep going —he said, drawing out the word.

And then I felt it. Through her, I could almost sense the other man’s rhythm. It wasn’t something I expected to like, but it turned me on in a new, unfamiliar way.

What came next was not in my plans. Marina came closer to kiss me, held my hands, and between the two of them, without my noticing, they tied my wrists and ankles to the sofa straps.

—What are you doing? —I protested—. I’m not going to stay tied up while you two... I already said it, I’m not going to be anybody’s submissive.

—Relax —Marina whispered, putting the nipple with the ring right in my face—. You’re the star.

And then I felt lips closing around me. It was Adrián. The two of them had planned it: the night was, in part, to use me.

His mouth gripped me in a way no woman had ever managed before. The brush of his beard against my thigh bothered me, I admit, but pleasure outweighed discomfort. He started exploring with his tongue, with the little ring he wore in it, working me over completely. At first I resisted. Then I stopped fighting. When his tongue went lower, toward a place I myself had ignored for nearly forty years, I let go completely and started shouting without caring about anything.

What a madness. So long without knowing about this.

As he learned what I liked most, he would release one strap. One gesture, one strap. Another, one more. In the end they untied me completely, but by then I was tied to something stronger than restraints.

Adrián told us he was a bottom, so he didn’t fuck me. But he let me try. Marina and I attended to him together, taking turns, nudging each other almost playfully to see who would finish the job. He came over both of us, and laughing, we cleaned each other off as if we had been doing it all our lives. If someone had told me at the start of the night how it would end, I wouldn’t have believed them.

The last position joined the three of us into a single line: Marina leaning on the sofa, Adrián in her, me in him. We found a steady rhythm, she took her hand to her clit, and to everyone’s surprise, within minutes we were all on the edge at the same time. We came almost together, exhausted, collapsed on the carpet, staring at the fire burning in the fireplace. We said nothing. No need to.

***

The next day Adrián sorted things out with Bruno, and we never saw each other again. I respect that. But Marina and I were never the same. The empty Wednesdays were gone forever.

We bought toys I would once not even have dared to look at, and we learned to explore each other without inherited rules. Two or three times a year we invite one of the guys from the gym, one of those who always watch her, and I discovered something curious: almost all of them, once they’re comfortable, end up looking at me too. It turns out that night didn’t just fulfill Marina’s pact. Without realizing it, I opened a door that had been shut all my life, and I have no intention of closing it again.