Three in the Flat Until One Was Left Over
Camila and Laura had been sharing a flat for two years: an apartment with high ceilings and wooden floors in the city center that they had turned into a livable place with plants, books, and furniture scavenged from weekend flea markets. Camila designed spaces for hospitality companies and had the habit of reorganizing the shelves every time she got bored. Laura trained private clients and came home at six in the evening with the hunger of someone who had spent the day moving her body and other people's. Their living arrangement was comfortable, the kind that does not demand too much and yet gives a lot.
That changed in the fall, when Camila met Marcos at a company cocktail party. He was a lawyer, had broad shoulders, and a way of looking at you that promised things. The conversation they had lasted until the bar closed, and what came after lasted until dawn. Camila arrived at the flat the next day with her coat fastened wrong, her panties in her bag, and her cunt still throbbing from the last orgasm he had wrung out of her against the bed's headboard.
—What happened? —Laura asked from the kitchen.
—Marcos —said Camila—. He fucked me six times. Six, Laura.
And in a way that explained everything.
Over the following months, Marcos began taking up space in Camila's life. He was attentive, drama-free, with a steady job and the sort of consistency she had been looking for for years. But he had a cock that never rested and an appetite to match. He wanted to fuck every night, and many mornings, and Camila —who worked ten hours and came home exhausted— began to feel she could not keep up with the pace. The desire was real, but pussy has limits it does not negotiate: hers was irritated from too much use, her nipples sore from the biting, and sometimes she caught herself praying he would fall asleep before getting hard again.
—It's like he never gets tired —she confessed to Laura one afternoon while they peeled potatoes for dinner—. Last night he put it in me three times. Three. And when I came the last time and asked him to stop, he was still hard. Mind you, I'm not complaining, but there are nights I look at him and think: “That cock again, seriously.”
Laura stirred the sauce without saying anything for a moment. For months no one had touched her cunt except herself.
—I'd give anything to have that problem —she said at last—. The men I know are the opposite: all talk, all promises, and then they come in two minutes and fall asleep.
She said it without bitterness, but with the precision of someone who had reached the same conclusion more than once. Camila set down the peeler on the cutting board and looked at her.
—I have an absurd proposal —she said—. Hear me out before you say no.
The proposal was this: Marcos would move in with them. He would fuck one night with Camila, the next with Laura, alternating from Monday to Saturday. The expenses would be split three ways. And Marcos's insatiable cock —which left Camila drained— would be distributed between two cunts instead of one. Laura took a few seconds to answer.
—And you'd really be okay with him fucking your roommate?
—I'd be better off than I am now. I swear, Laura. You can eat half his dick and give me my life back.
Marcos, when Camila floated the idea to him that same night with his cock still inside her, agreed on one condition: Sundays would be for all three of them. No turns, no separations. Both at once, in the same bed, open for him.
***
The move happened the following Friday. Marcos arrived with two suitcases and a bottle of wine, and that first night he fucked Camila against the hallway wall before he had even unpacked, while Laura listened from the living room to her friend moaning without restraint for the first time in weeks.
The routine settled in with a naturalness that surprised them both. With Camila, Marcos kept the hunger of the first months: he spread her legs, ate her pussy until she begged him to stop, and then fucked her face-down with his hands on her hips, spilling his load inside her or over her ass depending on the day. Rested at last, she was glad not to have to carry that cock alone anymore.
With Laura, the first encounter was more tentative. He undressed her slowly in the bedroom, kissed her small, firm breasts, pulled down her panties with his teeth, and slid his tongue between her legs until Laura, who had spent months touching herself alone, came so hard she had to cover her mouth with her forearm. Then he climbed on top of her and shoved his cock in with one thrust, and Laura felt him opening her centimeter by centimeter to the hilt. He fucked her for almost an hour, changing positions every time she neared the edge, until he came inside her with a growl and Laura felt his hot seed filling her from within. It was direct, without detours or preliminaries, and Marcos adapted. At dawn, while he slept with his slack cock resting against her thigh, Laura stared at the ceiling with something not quite resolved.
They kept their promise on Sundays. After dinner, the three of them would move to the living room. Marcos would settle into the sofa, his cock already outlined under his trousers, his eyes fixed on the two women. Camila and Laura would begin with what he had asked for since the first Sunday: a kiss between them. At first it was a conscious performance: Laura would take Camila's face in her hands and their mouths would meet with the deliberation of people who know they are being watched. But the body has its own logic. By the third Sunday, the kiss was no longer for Marcos.
Camila could feel the texture of Laura's lower lip, the way it gave beneath her own. Laura felt Camila's hands at her waist with a pressure she already recognized but that now meant something different. The Sundays kept escalating: Camila undressed Laura, sucked her nipples until they were hard as stones, slipped two fingers into her cunt and fingered her while looking her in the eyes. Laura returned the favor by spreading her legs on the sofa, sinking her tongue between her wet lips, licking her clit with a concentration Camila had never felt with any man. Marcos, meanwhile, jerked himself off in the armchair opposite with his cock rock-hard, waiting his turn.
When he joined in —and he always did eventually— he fucked them both in turns. One woman on her knees sucking him while he ate the other's pussy. Camila on all fours taking his thrusts while Laura held her face and made her bite her tits. Laura impaled on Marcos's cock while Camila, sitting behind, bit her neck and pinched her nipples. He always came twice before going dry, once in a mouth and once in a cunt, sharing without protest.
The pleasure was genuine —neither of them faked it— but there was a moment when everything changed focus: when Camila closed her eyes with Marcos's cock inside her, the only thing she processed was Laura's heat against her, her fingers playing with her clit at the same time he fucked her, the specific way Laura gasped in her ear when something truly lit her up. In those moments, Marcos was the background of a picture where Laura was the only thing in focus. The pleasure came from that side.
Afterward, when he fell asleep with his cock empty and satisfied, the two of them stayed awake. They said nothing. But they didn't fall asleep right away either. Sometimes Camila felt Laura's hand searching for hers between the sheets.
***
On the Tuesday of the third week, with Marcos at work and the afternoon dissolving into rain beyond the window, Laura walked into the living room where Camila was reading and sat on the arm of the sofa. Camila looked up. Laura lowered her head and kissed her, slowly, with no urgency, no Sunday script. When Camila kissed her back, Laura pushed her tongue all the way in and grabbed a breast over the blouse, and Camila let out a low moan that sounded like surrender.
They moved to Camila's bedroom. It was mid-afternoon and the light came in horizontally through the blinds, drawing stripes across the floor. Laura unbuttoned the dress one button at a time, unhurried, uncovering every inch of skin as if memorizing it. She pulled the bra down to free her tits and paused for a moment looking at them, weighing them in her hands, rubbing the nipples with her thumbs until they hardened so much they hurt. Laura's body was familiar from Sundays, but like this, without Marcos mediating, without the role each of them occupied in that dynamic, it was different. It was just Laura's body, and just for her.
Laura traced her with her lips from shoulder to hip, stopping at the nipples to suck them one by one with the kind of attention Marcos had never had time to learn. She bit her side, licked her navel, pulled down her panties with her teeth. When she spread her legs and saw the shaved cunt, glossy and already soaked, Laura smiled.
—Look at you —she murmured.
And lowered her head.
The first lick was slow, bottom to top, gathering all of Camila's slick on her tongue. The second lingered on the clit, circling it without touching it yet. When she finally took it into her mouth and started sucking slowly, Camila arched her back and let out a moan that broke in her throat. Laura slipped two fingers into her cunt at the same time, curling them forward to find that spot she knew well in herself and that Marcos never found. She worked with tongue and fingers in a rhythm that was not looking for a quick finish but for slow buildup, which is a different kind of pleasure. Camila guided her with the pressure of her hands on the back of her neck, wordlessly, feeling the orgasm grow not like a wave but like a tide rising and rising and never quite breaking. When it came, it came deep inside: a convulsion that clenched her whole cunt around Laura's fingers, her hips lifting off the mattress, her voice escaping before she could hold it back. Laura did not stop. She kept licking and sucking until she pulled a second orgasm out of her on top of the first, and Camila ended up with wet eyes, broken breathing, and thighs trembling around her friend's face.
It took Camila a little while to come back. Then she rolled toward Laura and took her time the way Laura had taken her time with her. She undressed her patiently, uncovering a body she knew but had never had alone: the small tits with pink nipples, the flat stomach of a trainer, the dark patch of pubic hair that Laura, unlike Camila, did not shave. She kissed her breasts, biting them softly, sucking the nipples until they were swollen. She went down the belly, the inner thighs, without hurrying, licking the skin centimeters from the cunt without touching it yet.
—Please —said Laura, and Camila smiled against her thigh.
When she slipped in her tongue, Laura closed her eyes and made a sound that was for no one else. Camila licked her from top to bottom, parting her wet lips with her tongue, sucking her clit until Laura started moving against her mouth without being able to help it. She put in one finger, then two, then three, and felt her close around them, hot and tight. Laura's fingers pressed into Camila's neck. She did not let her go until she came with her body bent forward and her lips pressed tight so as not to make a sound, her cunt contracting in waves around Camila's fingers, her thighs closing over her head.
Afterward, lying down, Camila placed a hand on her stomach still agitated by the aftershocks. They stayed like that for a long while, the afternoon coming in through the blinds, both of them smelling of women's sex.
—Does this make everything complicated? —Laura asked.
—It was already complicated —said Camila.
***
The following weeks worked on two levels. Outwardly, nothing had changed for Marcos: the alternating-night routine, the shared Sundays, his cock divided between the two of them. But in the spaces he did not occupy, Camila and Laura were building something still unnamed. They sought each other out in the mornings before he got up: Camila slipped into Laura's bed when Marcos slept with her and ate her pussy in silence, covering her mouth with her hand so she would not moan. Laura returned the favor in the middle of the afternoon, locking herself in with her for whatever excuse, panties down to her ankles before closing the door.
One afternoon, Camila walked into the bathroom while Laura was showering, without knocking, and stayed leaning on the sink talking about anything until the conversation faded and what remained was the steam and the sound of the water and the screen between them that neither of them made any move to open.
Then Laura opened it.
—Get in —she said, simply.
Camila undressed without saying anything and stepped into the shower. Laura already had hard nipples, her breasts shining with water. She ran soapy hands over Camila's tits, rubbed her nipples with slick fingers until they hardened, slid her hand down her belly to her shaved cunt and sank two fingers in without preliminaries. In water, bodies have a different texture. Camila pressed her back against the cold tiles and spread her legs. Laura kissed her neck, moved down her collarbone, her chest, with that same slowness Camila was already beginning to recognize as hers. She sucked her nipples one by one while the fingers kept going in and out of her cunt, finding the exact rhythm, the one only another woman finds at once. Her fingers massaged the clit at the same time the others fucked her from within, and Camila let out the breath she had been holding. Water fell over them both without distinction. When Camila came, it was with clenched teeth, one leg lifted and hooked over Laura's hip, and Laura's hand on her waist so she would not lose her balance. She felt her cunt pulsing around her friend's fingers and the orgasm climbing up her spine until she saw black specks.
Then Camila knelt on the wet floor. The shower tray was hard against her knees, but she didn't care. She lifted her face to Laura, who leaned her back against the wall and threaded her fingers into Camila's wet hair. She spread the lips of her cunt apart with her thumbs and buried herself. She licked slowly, sucking her clit, pushing her tongue in as deep as she could, fingering her with her mouth with a technique she had learned over the past weeks. She slipped a finger into her cunt while still sucking, then dragged the wet finger up her perineum and brushed her asshole. Laura opened her legs wider and pushed her hips forward.
—Put your finger in there —she gasped.
Camila did. She fingered her ass while sucking her clit, and Laura came almost immediately with a cry lost in the sound of the water, her hips thrusting against Camila's mouth, cunt and ass tightening at the same time. Camila did not let her go until Laura pulled her hair to make her stop, too sensitive to keep going.
On Sundays, Marcos kept watching. But what he saw was no longer for him, though he still did not know it.
***
They talked about it on a Thursday night, late, with Marcos asleep at the end of the hallway after fucking Laura for an hour. Camila went into Laura's room and closed the door. She sat on the edge of the bed. Laura was still naked under the sheet, her cunt full of Marcos's semen.
—We need to talk about Marcos —said Camila.
—I know —said Laura.
They did not need many words. Marcos was good, had a good cock, knew how to use it, but he was not what they were looking for. What the two of them had could not keep being the filler in someone else's thing. They wanted it to be the main thing.
—Wash first —said Camila, smiling faintly—. I'm not eating you with another man's load still inside you.
Laura gave a low laugh and went to the bathroom. When she came back, clean, Camila was already naked on the bed, spreading her cunt open with her fingers for her.
The rest of that night they spent together, unhurried, exploring without the weight of what would come. Camila traced Laura's body with her hands and lips, sucked her nipples until Laura begged her not to stop, buried her face between her legs and licked her until Laura came twice in a row with her hands tangled in Camila's hair. Laura did the same: she lost herself between Camila's legs with a concentration that turned pleasure into something precise and continuous, licking the clit in slow circles, slipping three fingers into her cunt and curling them forward, until Camila bent her knees, grabbed her head with both hands, and came against her mouth with a long, deep moan. After that they scissored, their wet cunts fitted one against the other, rubbing in a rhythm they found without words, looking into each other's eyes while they masturbated one another with their own bodies. They came together at the end, entwined, one forehead resting on the other's shoulder, both cunts throbbing at the same time, sweat mixing between their breasts.
***
On Saturday, Marcos came back from the gym and found them sitting in the kitchen. Camila spoke. Laura stayed by her side, not backing down.
—This isn't working. Not for us. We've thought it through.
Marcos tried to understand, then tried to negotiate, then got angry. He offered to fuck them better, slower, whatever they wanted. He searched Laura's eyes for something that contradicted what Camila was saying. He didn't find it.
—We've thought it through —Laura repeated—. And we'd rather eat each other's cunts than have your cock inside us again.
She said it without cruelty, but without leaving him any opening. The box with his clothes was already in the hallway. Marcos grabbed it, muttered something under his breath, and left with a door slam that made the frame vibrate.
The silence he left behind was clean and immediate. Camila and Laura looked at each other. Then they laughed, unable to help it, at how strange that year had been and at the much simpler solution that had been there from the start. They opened the wine they kept for no special occasion, cooked pasta, put on music neither of them would have chosen.
Later, in the bedroom that was now theirs, Laura switched off the light. Camila moved toward her in the dark and found her mouth first, her tits after, her cunt last. Laura was already wet before Camila touched her. They undressed without haste, caressed without haste, licked without haste. Camila sat on Laura's face and let her eat her cunt until she came twice, rubbing herself against her tongue, clinging to the headboard. Then they rolled over and it was Laura who spread her legs, and Camila stayed between them for as long as it took, licking her slowly, slipping her fingers into her cunt and her ass at the same time the way she had learned Laura liked it, until Laura came with an unrestrained cry, unshielded, with no one else in the house to hide anything from. There was nothing to prove, no turn to keep, no one watching. Only the same old flat and the two of them, naked and soaked, who had taken a year to arrive at an answer that had always been there.