The Fantasy I Never Dared Confess to My Wife

Marcos reclined on the bed with his arms behind his neck. The room was dark, barely pierced by a strip of streetlight slipping through the half-closed curtains. Beside him, the empty space still held Carolina’s warmth; she had gotten up to get some water ten minutes earlier. He heard the bathroom faucet, then silence, and knew she would take a while to come back because she always ended up checking her phone while leaning against the sink.

He wasn’t sleepy. He had a hard-on.

He let his right hand slide slowly down his abdomen, feeling the warm skin beneath his fingertips, until he found his cock already swollen beneath his underwear, throbbing even though he hadn’t fully touched it. He freed it with a tug, gripped it at the base, and squeezed hard, feeling it beat hotly against his palm. A thread of pre-cum welled from the tip, and he spread it with his thumb, slippery, as he closed his eyes. He drew a deep breath. And he allowed the scene that had been haunting him for weeks to assemble itself, so vivid he could almost smell the surroundings, touch the textures, hear the breathing.

Just once. Imagining it once isn’t hurting anyone.

***

In the fantasy, they were in the living room of their own house, on the large, plush couch where they had fallen asleep so many nights in front of the TV. But this time they weren’t alone. Romina, Carolina’s best friend, had joined the scene with the effortless naturalness that only happened in dreams, sitting on the other side, wearing the mischievous smile he pretended to ignore at every Friday-night dinner.

One of those romantic movies with plot twists was playing on the screen, but nobody was watching. Marcos was in the middle of the couch, with Carolina leaning against his left shoulder and Romina pressed against his right side. He felt the warmth of both bodies against his, a different temperature on either side, and that contrast was already making his cock swell inside his pants.

Carolina’s brown hair fell in loose waves over her shoulders. She was wearing one of her thin blouses, the kind that fit her just snugly enough to outline her nipples without a bra, and shorts that left her legs bare. Romina, always bolder, wore a tight top that squeezed her big tits and a short skirt that rode up whenever she shifted position, revealing the edge of a black thong. The air was thick with two perfumes: Carolina’s floral sweetness, a little jasmine and vanilla he knew by heart, and Romina’s, fresher and citrusy, like mint and lemon. The two scents intertwined over the couch, forming a veil that wrapped around him.

“Come here,” he said softly to Carolina, turning his face slightly toward her.

She looked up. Her brown eyes held a new brightness, a spark he recognized from their best nights. Carolina’s lips parted in a knowing smile, and Marcos kissed her first, calmly, barely brushing her lips, recognizing the familiar texture of her mouth. The taste was sweet, a trace of something she had drunk earlier, and beneath it a faint taste of skin. His tongue advanced slowly, found hers, and they began that slow, familiar dance they knew from so many years together. Carolina’s hand slid up to the nape of his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair, tugging lightly to draw him closer, while her other hand went straight to the bulge already straining his pants and squeezed it between her fingers.

Then, as in a dream growing denser, Romina moved.

Marcos felt her lean toward them, her breath joining Carolina’s, carrying the scent of mint from the gum she was chewing absentmindedly.

“Don’t leave me out,” she murmured in a voice rougher than he had ever imagined. “I want to taste both of you.”

And suddenly her lips joined the kiss. It was like an electric shock. A three-way kiss that left him breathless. Romina’s lips were fuller, different, pressing against his and Carolina’s in a triangle of wet heat unlike anything else. His wife’s tongue, warm and familiar, remained entwined with his, while Romina’s burst in with a boldness that undid him, tracing the edges of his mouth with a faintly spicy tang, as if she had eaten something seasoned before sitting down.

He felt both mouths at once, the contrast between Carolina’s calm sweetness and Romina’s playful intensity, as she slowly bit his lower lip and sent spikes of pleasure straight to his cock, which was already pushing painfully against the fabric. Carolina undid the button of his pants and pulled down the zipper with a little tug, and when he felt his wife’s fingers wrap around him and bring him out into the warm living-room air, a moan escaped him against both mouths together.

“Look how hard he is,” Carolina murmured into Romina’s ear, moving her hand along his cock with the slow rhythm she knew by heart, squeezing at the base and dragging her fist up to the glans, spreading the pre-cum over its entire length.

Romina lowered her eyes and slowly licked her lips.

“Let me taste.”

She slid off the couch and knelt between Marcos’s legs, her skirt hiked up to her hips. Carolina pulled his pants down to his knees and spread his thighs, sitting beside him with one hand still at the base of his cock, offering it to her friend as though presenting a gift. Romina stared at it for a second, mouth open and tongue out, then licked him from balls to tip in one long, wet stroke that drew a muffled moan from Marcos.

“He tastes delicious,” Romina whispered, and took him all the way into her mouth.

Her full lips closed around his cock and descended to the root, gagging slightly at the bottom, and Marcos felt her warm, tight throat swallowing him down to the base. Romina’s tongue danced beneath the glans each time she came back up, and when she reached the top she released him with a wet pop before devouring him again. A strand of saliva hung from her chin, gleaming in the bluish light of the television.

Meanwhile, Carolina had begun kissing him more fiercely, biting his lips, moaning into his mouth whenever she saw her friend sucking her husband’s cock. She yanked off her blouse and placed one breast in his hand, and he squeezed her hard nipple between his fingers, tugging it and feeling it grow even harder.

“Suck it too,” he gasped, his voice breaking.

Carolina lowered herself without hesitation. She knelt beside Romina, and the two friends began sharing his cock: taking turns, passing it from one mouth to the other with a wet kiss at the tip, both licking it at once from opposite sides, their tongues brushing over the taut skin of the glans. Marcos looked down from above, incredulous, watching his wife and her best friend give him a double blowjob, giggling softly between licks.

Romina took off her top, and her big tits bounced free. She squeezed one in each hand and slipped his cock between them, wrapping it in soft, hot flesh, while Carolina bent down to suck the tip whenever it appeared between her friend’s breasts. The smell of wet pussy was beginning to rise from the couch, sweet and thick, mingling with the perfumes and the sweat of all three bodies.

“I want you to put it inside me,” Romina blurted, climbing back onto the couch and yanking off her thong. She showed him her shaved pussy, pink and glistening with moisture. She spread her lips with two fingers. “Put it all the way in.”

Marcos grabbed her by the hips and sat her astride him, and she impaled herself slowly, dropping with her mouth open in a silent O as his cock sank in inch by inch. When she took him to the base, she let out a long, trembling moan and began moving up and down, riding him with her tits bouncing against his face. He grabbed one and sucked it, biting her nipple until she cried out.

Carolina wasn’t left out. She took off her shorts and panties and climbed onto Marcos from the other side, sitting on his mouth with her pussy soaked. He tasted his wife’s familiar flavor, salty and sweet at once, and buried his tongue between her wet lips, hungrily sucking her clitoris while Romina kept bouncing on his cock. Carolina braced herself against the back of the couch, moving her hips against her husband’s face, and reached out to stroke Romina’s hair, then her face, then grabbed the back of her neck and drew her in to kiss her on the mouth over Marcos’s body.

The two friends kissed deeply, tongues tangled, while he fucked them from below: his cock sliding in and out of Romina’s pussy with a wet, obscene sound, his tongue buried in Carolina’s pussy, sucking and swallowing everything she poured into his mouth. The two women’s moans crossed above him, muffled against each other’s mouths.

“I’m coming,” Romina gasped, riding him faster, squeezing his cock with the walls of her pussy in spasms that traveled up his back. “I’m coming, I’m coming…”

And she came with a hoarse cry, trembling all over, wetness running down her thighs, while Carolina bit her lower lip and also began to climax over Marcos’s mouth, grinding her hips against his face and drowning him in her juices. He felt them both come at the same time, on top of him, and he couldn’t hold back any longer.

Every brush of a tongue sent a current down his back that ended precisely where, in the real bedroom, his hand was moving with increasing urgency, sliding over his cock slick with pre-cum, squeezing hard, pumping up and down in a desperate rhythm. The fantasy and the bed blurred together. He no longer knew whether the broken breathing he heard belonged to the imagined Romina or to himself against the pillow.

In the fantasy, Romina got off his cock and knelt again, and Carolina positioned herself beside her, both of them with their mouths open and tongues out, asking him to come on their faces. He grabbed his cock and gave himself one last handjob with the two friends waiting, panting, and when he exploded, the thick stream landed on their cheeks, their lips, their outstretched tongues. They both swallowed it, licked the remnants off each other, and kissed with semen-filled mouths, smiling at him.

In the real bed, his hand sped up, and the orgasm shook him all at once, an explosion that emptied his balls in hot spurts over his abdomen, leaving him panting with his eyes squeezed shut and his cock still throbbing between his sticky fingers.

***

It took him a while to open his eyes. When he did, he stared at the ceiling in the darkness and listened to his own heart still pounding in his chest. The fantasy had been so vivid that for a second it was hard to return to the room, to the strip of light in the curtains, to the distant sound of a car in the street. He wiped his belly off any way he could with the edge of the sheet, pulled up his underwear, and tried to steady his breathing.

In the hallway, he heard Carolina’s bare feet approaching as she returned from the bathroom with the glass of water in her hand. Marcos adjusted the sheet and pretended to be calmer than he was.

“Are you still awake?” she asked, dropping onto her side of the bed.

“Thinking,” he said.

“About what?” Carolina nestled against his shoulder, in the exact same position as in the fantasy, and Marcos’s skin prickled and his cock stirred again, still sensitive.

“Nothing. Just things.”

She gave a quiet laugh and draped an arm across his chest, her hand brushing his damp belly without realizing it. He kept staring at the ceiling, turning over a question he didn’t dare ask. He thought about how to tell her without frightening her. Should he start with a light conversation about fantasies, one night after a couple too many drinks? Whisper it in her ear in the middle of intimacy, when everything becomes more permissible, when she has his cock in her mouth and knows she’ll say yes to anything? Or throw it out as a joke, mention Romina in passing, and gauge the reaction on her face?

He knew he had to be careful. Carolina and Romina had been friends since high school; one wrong move could ruin more than he imagined he might gain. But the mere possibility brought a smile to his face in the gloom and made his cock swell again against his wife’s thigh.

Tomorrow, maybe. Tomorrow I’ll find the right moment.

He closed his eyes with Carolina’s warm weight against his chest, and for the first time in weeks he fell asleep without fighting the idea. After all, a fantasy wasn’t hurting anyone. Not yet.