What I Taught Them That Night by the Fire

The storm had been battering the cabin’s windows all day. The Atlantic wind drove the rain against the glass in furious bursts, and inside, the fireplace burned with absurd calm, as if it knew its job was to tell a different story. Helena was still stretched out on the rug, still undone by what she had just experienced. Her skin was damp, shining in every spark from the fire, and she wore that loose expression left behind by long orgasms. Tomás was sitting up very slowly, like a man just waking from a dream he hadn’t understood.

—What was that, Renata? —he said when he could finally put the words together—. What the fuck did you do to me?

I moved closer to him with the calm of someone who knows she has already won. I could feel my own desire running down inside me, that thick wetness that appears when the body has already made the decision before the mind does. I ran my hand over his cheek, his neck, his chest. His cock was still throbbing slowly, not quite going down yet, still surprised.

—You just discovered a spot most men never find —I told him in his ear, close, in a low voice so he would understand clearly—. The prostate. There are nerve endings in there that connect to a kind of pleasure unlike anything you’ve known.

Tomás looked at me as if I had spoken to him in another language. Helena, beside him, was beginning to come back from wherever I had sent her: glassy eyes, slack smile, her breasts rising and falling with deep breaths. Her nipples, dark and hard, were brazenly demanding attention.

—That’s insane —he said, and his cock, against all logic, began waking up again—. We have to try it, both of us. Now.

—Recover first —I answered, and slid over to Helena. I kissed her slowly, tongue in her mouth, still tasting her on my lips. Helena answered with a low moan, her hands found my breasts and she pinched my nipples with a roughness that wasn’t like her at all. A shiver ran from my nape to my sacrum.

***

Twenty minutes later, the three of us were once again on the synthetic-fur rug covering the floor in front of the hearth. Outside, the rain had become a steady murmur, almost soothing, and the fire’s heat left our skin orange and trembling. Tomás had settled on his back, completely surrendered, and his cock was hard again, waiting. Helena was stroking him from the side, tracing his veins with the tip of her finger, while I positioned myself between his legs with the tube of lubricant in my hand.

—Your turn —I said, and saw him swallow.

The gel was cold. I ran my fingers, slick with it, over his asshole and began massaging the ring slowly, without hurry, until I felt it give. This time he didn’t startle. This time he trusted me. Helena watched us with bated breath, and her hand had dropped to her own sex almost without her noticing. I saw her fingers sliding over her clit, wet, in very slow circles. The moist sound mixed with the crackling of the logs.

—You’ll see —I murmured.

I slid one finger in slowly, very slowly, searching for that front wall, that small protrusion that’s just a couple of centimeters deep. I found it without effort. As soon as I brushed it with the pad of my finger, Tomás lifted his hips off the floor as if he’d been touched by a current. A deep, guttural sound rose up from his chest. His cock, already big, got even harder, almost purple at the tip, and a strand of clear fluid ran down the side of the glans.

—My God... Renata...

Helena didn’t wait for instructions. She bent over him and took his cock all the way into her mouth, as if she had been wanting to do it for hours. Her blond hair covered her face, her throat opened and closed in a slow, deep rhythm, and the combination of her mouth up top and my finger below undid Tomás in a matter of minutes. He started moaning uncontrollably, his hips seeking Helena’s throat and my finger at the same time, not knowing whom to ask for more.

—More, please, more —he begged her, both hands tangled in her hair, pulling without meaning to.

I sped up the massage, pressed a little harder, and watched his whole body tighten. His abs drew every rib into relief, his neck swelled, his feet curled inward.

—I’m going to... I’m going to come... —he warned in a broken voice.

—Not yet —I said, and yanked my finger out.

Helena understood the signal and pulled away with a wet pop. Tomás opened his eyes as if we had betrayed him. His cock throbbed against his stomach, swollen, dark, almost pleading.

—Please, Renata, I’m begging you.

—Trust me —I repeated, and slid my finger back in, this time with a different rhythm, more deliberate, firm short circles over the prostate. Helena resumed sucking him with a much hungrier mouth. I worked with the precision my years in medical school had given me: variable pressure, circular movements, one hand on his pelvis to keep him still. His moans went from words to primitive noises, stripped of consonants.

The end was an explosion. His back arched off the floor in a curve that seemed impossible, and he spilled into Helena’s mouth with such force that she coughed. She didn’t let go. She swallowed what she could, and what escaped ran down her chin, stained her breasts, and reached me too, a warm drop on my cheek. Helena was trembling: she was having her own orgasm, squeezing her hand against her sex, her thighs closing, smothering a cry on Tomás’s cock.

***

It took us a while to come back. Tomás was breathing with his mouth open, staring at the wooden ceiling with bright eyes. When he turned toward me, he nearly made me cry.

—I’ve never... never felt anything like that —he said, his voice still splintered—. It’s something else.

—And this is only the beginning —I answered.

I leaned over Helena and started licking Tomás’s semen off her chest, slowly, without disgust, almost tenderly. She moaned again and her thighs clamped shut; a small orgasm ran through her back. The taste was the usual one: salty, thick, masculine. The taste of something done well.

Outside, the rain eased a little, but it kept falling. The fireplace kept burning. I had plans, and nobody knew them yet.

***

The break lasted just long enough. Helena sat up before either of us, with that energy that appears when a woman discovers something and needs to try it again to believe it. Her blue eyes had a different shine. She looked at Tomás as if seeing him for the first time, no longer as her partner but as a territory that had just opened up and that she wanted to traverse completely.

Tomás was still with his eyes closed, in some kind of satisfied half-sleep. His cock was still there, a presence, asleep but heavy, like a big animal taking a nap. I, off to the side, felt like a conductor who had just heard the orchestra play well for the first time in a long while.

It was Helena who came over. She climbed on top of him slowly, kissed his chest, his nipples, his neck, went downward with her mouth until he sighed and opened his eyes. She ran her hands through his hair and looked at him.

—I want to feel it again —Helena told him softly—. But this time I’m the one doing it. I’ll take you there.

Tomás smiled crookedly and handed over the reins without arguing.

Helena settled astride him, knees at the sides of his waist, and lowered herself without haste onto the cock that was already beginning to wake up. She rubbed it against herself, against her clit, against her wet lips, until Tomás’s body answered fully, hard again, throbbing. Then she lifted herself, guided him with one hand, and took him inside in a single movement, slowly, eyes closed, mouth open.

The moan that came out of her was long, shameless.

—I’m full —she said, almost to herself—. I’m full.

She began moving in slow circles, her hands braced on Tomás’s chest, the rhythm dictated by her pelvis, not her legs. Every movement changed the way she breathed. Tomás, underneath, lifted his hips to meet her, held her ass, looked at her face with a concentration that was almost tender.

I couldn’t stay still. I crawled toward them and lay down beside them, my body pressed against Helena’s. I took one breast in my mouth and started sucking her nipple while my other hand went down to her mound. I found her already swollen, wrecked, wet. I began rubbing her clit with two fingers in small, quick circles, matching the rhythm of her rising and falling.

The triple combination —Tomás inside, my mouth on top, my fingers on her clit— made her lose the rhythm. Helena started shaking, first her legs, then her belly, then everything. She screamed without words, an animal sound that had nothing to do with the educated woman we knew. Her vaginal walls clenched around Tomás’s cock so tightly that he groaned out loud and the veins in his neck stood out.

But she didn’t stop. She chained another orgasm on top of it, and another, never stopping her ride, faster each time, her ass slapping against his thighs with a wet, rhythmic sound that joined the fire.

—I’m not going to stop —she said, her voice transformed—. I’m not going to stop until you fill me.

Tomás surrendered there. He arched his back, dug his fingers into her hips, and came inside her in long waves she felt one by one. Helena closed her eyes, opened her mouth, and let herself collapse onto him, boneless. The two of them were breathing like they had run kilometers.

I pulled away slowly. I watched them for a long while, satisfied, almost proud.

***

But Helena wasn’t finished. When she stopped trembling, she slid down, settled between Tomás’s legs, and took his cock in her mouth again. He groaned, already spent, his whole body begging for rest, but she was gentle this time. She wasn’t waking him up: she was cleaning him, thanking him, saying goodbye. She ran her tongue all along his length, swallowed every last drop, unhurried, eyes closed.

When she finished, she crawled back up and curled against his chest. Tomás held her with the last remnants of strength he had left. I joined the knot, one leg over, one hand on Helena’s back, the other resting on Tomás’s thigh. The fireplace kept doing its work, slow, patient.

—This changed everything —Helena said against Tomás’s chest.

—Yes —he answered, hoarse—. Everything.

I didn’t say anything. I looked at them, listened to the rain pressing down again outside, and I knew they were right. That night had opened a door that doesn’t close. And there was still a long way to go.