Three Days With Him While My Girlfriend Was at the Beach
The hot water wrapped around us like a second skin. I was on my knees on the shower tiles with his cock in my mouth, and the only thing that existed in the world was that: the taste of his glans against my tongue, the pressure of my lips sliding down the shaft, the sensation of swallowing him centimeter by centimeter until my throat said enough. With no woman have I felt that kind of urgency. It’s something animal, something that rises from my gut and climbs all the way up to my jaw.
I sucked him slowly, with a hunger that burned inside me, until I stood up, turned my back to him, and braced my hands against the tiles. Then I felt Andrés pushing into me. The initial pressure, that weakness in my legs that always surprises me, the discomfort that little by little turns into something I can’t name any other way than pleasure. He went in more and more until I felt him completely inside me. The sound of the water didn’t drown out my moans. I grabbed my cock and jerked myself with quick strokes until I came against the wall in an orgasm that buckled my knees. I felt Andrés tense behind me, felt his cock throb and empty inside me.
We stayed like that for a moment, under the spray, saying nothing. He kissed my shoulder and I closed my eyes.
***
I have to explain something so this makes sense. I live a double life. A few months ago I started seeing Lucía, a girl I really like, who makes me laugh and with whom I can imagine a future. But on the other hand I have sex with men. I have two more-or-less regular lovers, and Andrés is by far the one I’m most attracted to. Sex with him is something else. It’s not something I’m proud of, but I need to be honest at least here: what I feel when a guy fucks me far surpasses what I’ve felt with any girl. I’ve never been attracted to a man in the romantic sense. I don’t fantasize about going out to dinner with one or introducing him to my parents. But cocks drive me crazy. I love sucking them, I love being penetrated. It’s a level of arousal I’ve never reached with a woman.
Lucía went away that week with her sister and a group of friends to a country house on the coast. I used the excuse that I had a backlog of work and that, honestly, I didn’t feel like spending five days with her friends talking about things I didn’t give a shit about. She didn’t insist. As soon as her car disappeared at the end of the street, I texted Andrés.
***
Andrés is openly bisexual. He doesn’t hide it, he doesn’t mind kissing a guy in the middle of a bar, and he doesn’t apologize for it. He’s in his early thirties, has a small but bright apartment in the city center, and a way of looking at you that makes you feel like you’re the only person in the room. I spent those three days at his place.
I got there Thursday afternoon. When he opened the door, he wasn’t alone. On the sofa there was a dark-haired girl, generously curved, with dark eyes that smiled before her mouth did. Her name was Vera, and Andrés introduced her as a friend. From the way they touched while talking, I knew they were fucking. The three of us spent a while drinking beers on his terrace, chatting about nothing, laughing about everything. Vera was delightful: direct, funny, with that confidence of someone who knows exactly what she wants.
She left around nine. Andrés closed the door and looked at me with that half-smile that means there’s no turning back. That’s when the shower happened. Not a bad way to begin.
That night we went out to some bars downtown. We drank too much, danced a little, and went to sleep without doing anything else. We collapsed into his bed like two logs.
***
The next morning I woke up hungover and with an erection throbbing with every pulse. It always happens to me: when I’m hungover, my body begs for sex as if it were water. Andrés was asleep on his back with the sheet at hip level. I pulled the sheet down slowly, took his cock out of his boxers, and started sucking it before he opened his eyes.
When he woke up, he looked at me, smiled, and threw his head back. I gave him a long, wet blowjob, playing with my tongue around the glans, taking him all the way in and coming back up with a slowness that had him clenching his fists in the sheets. He came in my mouth and I swallowed everything without thinking. That thick, salty taste is addictive in a way I can’t explain.
I also eat Lucía out in the mornings, I thought while brushing my teeth. But it’s different. Everything with her is softer, more predictable. With Andrés there’s something urgent pushing me from inside.
We spent the day doing very little. We bought food, cooked together, watched a movie on the sofa with our legs tangled. It looked like a normal relationship. Except it wasn’t.
***
Friday night we went out again. The group was bigger: Andrés’s friends, people I didn’t know, and Vera. I saw her arrive in a black dress that highlighted every curve and dark red lipstick. She sat between Andrés and me, and all night her hand moved from my knee to his as if she were deciding something.
At the second bar, Andrés and she kissed. It wasn’t a drunk peck; it was a long kiss, with tongue, while she grabbed the back of his neck. I watched them from the other side of the table with a knot in my stomach that was half jealousy and half arousal. When they pulled apart, Vera looked straight at me and bit her lower lip.
The three of us went back to his apartment. We rode the elevator in silence. The tension filled every inch of space.
Once inside, Vera took off her heels and sat on the edge of Andrés’s bed as if the place belonged to her. She looked at both of us and asked bluntly:
—So what? Are we all going to do this, or am I staying as a spectator?
Andrés looked at me. I nodded.
Vera went to him first. She kissed him slowly, took off his shirt, and ran her nails over his chest. Then she turned to me and kissed me. Her mouth tasted of gin and lipstick, and her tongue was softer than I expected. She whispered in my ear that she’d been fantasizing about this for a while: two bisexual guys who wouldn’t be afraid to touch each other in front of her.
She knelt and sucked my cock. She had perfect technique: just the right pressure, a steady rhythm, one hand at the base and the other stroking my balls. When she’d had enough of me, she moved on to Andrés’s cock. Then she looked at me with a defiant smile, as if daring me. I moved closer. Vera grabbed Andrés’s cock, gave it a few slow sucks, and offered it to me. I kissed it, licked it, took it in my mouth while Vera caressed the back of my neck. We took turns: she sucked, I sucked, we kissed with his cock between our mouths, the three of our tongues meeting around the glans.
Andrés had his eyes closed and was breathing hard. Vera let out a deep laugh and said something like, “This is the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced in my life.”
She lay down on the bed and spread her legs. I knelt between them and ate her pussy while Andrés kissed her breasts and nibbled her nipples. Vera moaned without holding back, one hand in my hair and the other on Andrés’s head. She had a strong taste and a clit that responded to the slightest pressure from my tongue.
After a while, I put on the condom and fucked her. She hooked her legs around my waist and sat up to suck Andrés’s cock, and he had knelt beside her head. The image was obscene and beautiful at the same time: her brown body between the two of us, her mouth full of him while I fucked her at a rhythm that kept building.
Then came the moment Vera had been waiting for. I lay on my back and lifted my legs. Andrés put on the condom and entered me slowly, looking me in the eyes as he slid in. Vera froze for a second. I saw on her face a mix of surprise and fascination, like someone witnessing something they had only ever imagined.
—Fuck —she muttered—. This is incredible.
My moans visibly turned her on. She came over to me and kissed me with desperate intensity, her tongue seeking mine while Andrés fucked me with deep, steady thrusts. Then she lowered herself and grabbed my cock. She took it into her mouth and started sucking me in time with Andrés’s thrusts.
There’s no way to describe what I felt. Andrés’s cock inside me hitting that spot that made me see stars, and Vera’s hot mouth enveloping me with perfect suction. My whole body was a nerve ending. I didn’t last long. When the spasms started and my moans turned into short cries, Vera looked me in the eyes and didn’t pull away. I came in her mouth and she swallowed everything with a smile. A few seconds later, Andrés pulled out, tore off the condom, and came over my stomach. Vera leaned down and licked every drop of semen covering my skin, unhurried, as if she were savoring a dessert.
The three of us stayed in bed, sweaty and silent, our breathing slowly returning to normal. Vera chuckled softly and said:
—We can do it again whenever you want.
***
On Saturday, Vera left in the morning after the three of us had breakfast together as if nothing had happened. Andrés and I fucked once more that afternoon, in his bed, with the window open and the noise from the street drifting into the room. It was slower that time, calmer. Almost tender, if that word makes any sense in this context.
On Sunday morning I gathered my things and went back to my apartment. Lucía called me from the coast to tell me she was having a great time and missed me. I told her I missed her too, and it wasn’t a lie. I really do miss her when she’s not around. But that doesn’t change what I am or what I need.
I left my bag on the floor of the entryway and sat down on the sofa in my empty apartment. It smelled closed-in, like three days of loneliness. I looked at my hands as if they were going to betray me.
I know what I do is wrong. I don’t want to hurt her. But there’s something in me I can’t turn off, something that lights up when a guy touches me that way, when I feel a cock entering me, when I swallow what another man gives me. Lucía is traditional; she wouldn’t understand any of this, and I don’t have the courage to explain it to her.
So I put the double life back in the usual drawer, along with the guilt and the lies. Until the next time she goes away and I text Andrés. Because I know there will be a next time. There always is.