The Night Her Husband Encouraged Me to Fuck Her

That night I had no special plans. I went out with three coworkers to a bar downtown to celebrate finally closing a project that had kept us on the verge of collapse for weeks. We drank more than we needed to, and when my friends decided to continue the night at another place, I chose to go home. It was late, I was pretty drunk, and I had to get up early the next morning.

I went outside and started looking for a taxi. It was Friday and the city was alive: music spilling out of the bars, groups of people on the corners, cars crawling past. I walked a couple of blocks to a quieter avenue where taxis usually stopped, but that night there wasn't a single one available. I stood there with my hands in my pockets, waiting.

That was when a car pulled up beside me. It was a dark sedan, an older model but well cared for. The passenger-side window rolled down and I saw a woman around thirty-eight, dark-haired, her hair pulled into a quick bun, wearing a black dress with a plunging neckline. She looked at me with a calm smile, in no hurry at all.

—Where are you going? —she asked.

—Home —I said, a little surprised—. I'm waiting for a taxi.

—We can take you, if you want. We're going that way anyway.

I looked toward the driver's seat. There was a man in his early forties, broad-shouldered, wearing the dark-blue uniform of a private security company. He had an unfriendly face, but he nodded, confirming the offer.

What could happen?

I got in.

***

The man's name was Rodrigo, and he had been on duty for twelve hours at a warehouse in the southern part of the city. The woman, who introduced herself as Valeria, was his wife. They had been together for fourteen years. They told me all this in the first five minutes of the drive, while I stared out the window, trying to focus on the glowing signs passing by in a blur.

—Did you drink a lot? —Valeria asked, turning toward me from the front seat.

—Quite a bit —I admitted.

Rodrigo took a different street from the one I had indicated. I didn't say anything at first; I assumed he knew a shortcut. But when we left the lit streets and entered an industrial area without streetlamps, I began paying closer attention.

—Where are we going? —I asked.

—To have a few beers —he said, without taking his eyes off the road—. I've got some cold ones in the trunk cooler. You drink?

Before I could answer, Valeria had already turned toward me and was offering me a cold can. Her hand brushed mine as she passed it over. The neckline of her dress opened a little with the movement, and it was difficult not to look.

The situation was strange. But I didn't feel in danger.

—Sure —I said.

***

Rodrigo stopped the car in a vacant lot beside a little-traveled road. A couple of trucks were parked farther ahead with their lights off, and there was nothing else around. The sky was clear, and there was enough moonlight to see everything plainly.

Valeria opened the door and got out of the car. She said she was going to pee. Rodrigo and I stayed in the car, drinking in silence. Then, without any preamble, he pointed outside.

—Look at her —he said.

I looked. Valeria was a few yards from the car, her back to us, the skirt of her dress pulled up to her waist. She had shifted her underwear to one side. The moon shone directly on her, and I could see everything with a clarity I hadn't expected: her round ass barely trembling as she kept her balance, her pinned-up hair leaving her nape and shoulders bare, and the wet slit between her legs exposed shamelessly, glinting faintly in the night. She was squatting with one hand resting on her thigh, and the gesture was so deliberate that I understood it wasn't accidental or urgent: she was showing us exactly what she wanted us to see.

Rodrigo said nothing else for a moment. Then he asked, in the same calm tone he'd used throughout the drive:

—Do you like what you see?

I didn't know what to say. My heart was racing, and my head was confused by the alcohol and what was happening. But what I felt at that moment wasn't fear; it was something entirely different. My cock was getting hard inside my pants, heavy and taut, as if my body understood before I did.

—Yes —I said.

—Would you fuck her?

Valeria adjusted her clothes and came back to the car. She sat in the front passenger seat, turned toward me, and looked me straight in the eyes. Her expression was serious but not cold. It was the look of someone who knows exactly what she wants and isn't afraid to ask for it.

—We've had this fantasy for a while —she said—. He wants to watch. I want you to fuck me. But you decide.

***

I didn't take long to decide.

Valeria moved into the back seat with me. Rodrigo stayed up front, his seatback almost pressed against us, half-turned so he could watch. The atmosphere inside the car grew heavy within seconds. She slipped the straps of her dress off her shoulders, let the fabric fall to her waist, and unclasped her bra. Her tits were firm and heavy, with dark, hard nipples, and she made no show of modesty as she let me look. She squeezed them with both hands for a second, as if testing my reaction, and then grabbed my face and kissed me.

The kiss was wet and hungry. She smelled of perfume mixed with the heat of the car and something harder to define, an undertone of hot skin and beer. Her tongue pushed into my mouth without asking, and when I returned the kiss with more hunger than I expected to find in myself, she gave a low laugh against my lips.

—That's what I like —she murmured.

I stiffened without being able to help it. It was an automatic reaction, without thought, but she noticed immediately. One hand moved down my chest and opened my shirt, while the other went straight to my belt. She unfastened it patiently, as if she enjoyed every second of watching me lose my composure, and then slipped her hand inside my pants.

—God —she murmured, almost to herself.

She pulled my pants and underwear down to my knees. She stared for a second with the expression of someone receiving something better than expected, and then she bent down. She took my cock in one hand, already heavy, hot, and throbbing, and slowly licked it from the base to the tip. When she took it into her mouth, I closed my eyes and rested my head against the rear window. It had been a long time since anyone had sucked me like that, with that kind of genuine concentration. She took her time: lowering herself slowly, sucking hard, then rising even more slowly, running her tongue along the edge of my glans until it shone with saliva. Every so often she looked up at me with an expression that made me hotter than anything she could do with her mouth.

—Do you like having your cock sucked? —she asked, her mouth still close to my cock.

—Yes —I said, my voice hoarse.

—Then relax and let me play —she whispered.

Up front, Rodrigo had unzipped his uniform. I heard him shifting in his seat, the leather creaking beneath his weight, and out of the corner of my eye I saw him pull his cock out over his pants, hard and thick, gripping it in his hand as he watched us. He didn't say anything. He just watched, breathing deeply, his eyes fixed on his wife's mouth swallowing my cock as if he were seeing exactly the scene he'd come looking for.

Valeria came back up with me, faster this time, and settled astride my thighs. She shifted her underwear to one side to position herself. Her pussy was wet, open, glistening in the light coming through the windshield. Rodrigo reached back from the front and ripped her panties off in one pull. She let out a low, conspiratorial laugh, as if it were a private joke between the two of them.

—You asked for that —she told him without looking at him.

—I want you wide open —he replied, his voice rough.

Valeria rubbed herself against my cock, soaking it, then positioned it at the entrance to her pussy. I guided it with one hand on her hip, feeling her tremble with anticipation. When I sank inside her, we both went still for a second. The car, the road, the trucks in the distance—everything disappeared. It was just the two of us in that back seat, far too small, fitting together as if there were no other choice. Her insides clasped me with a warm, slippery force, and at the same time I heard Rodrigo release a low, satisfied moan from the front.

Then she started moving.

Valeria tossed her hair back and set a slow rhythm at first, letting herself be filled to the hilt and rising again deliberately, squeezing my cock with every downward stroke. Her tits bounced in front of my face, and I leaned forward to bite one nipple while she gripped the headrest to keep her balance. The car squeaked with every rocking motion of the seat, and the sound of her body hitting mine mingled with her increasingly ragged breathing.

—Harder —she asked, digging her nails into my back.

I fucked her harder. I lifted her by the waist and slammed her against me, driving deeper with a sharp meeting of pelvis against pelvis that made her moan openly. Rodrigo shifted into a better position in the front seat to watch her, one hand on his own cock, stroking slowly without taking his eyes off us.

—That's it —he said—. Fuck, yes.

I don't know how long it lasted. In that state, with the alcohol still coursing through me, time loses all scale. What I do remember is the sensation of her hips pounding against mine, the wet heat of her pussy surrounding me, the sound of the car with every movement, and the smell of perfume and sweat mingling to fill the closed cabin. Valeria didn't scream, but she didn't stay quiet either. She made those short, restrained sounds of someone trying to control herself and not quite managing it, which paradoxically made everything more intense. She begged for my cock as if she needed it to breathe, and I gave it to her deep, thrusting until I felt her belly tense against mine.

She grabbed the back of my neck and kissed me again, this time with her mouth open and drooling, while she moved on top of me and rubbed herself desperately. She lowered one hand between us and began touching her clit, fast and hard, as if she wanted to force the orgasm to arrive sooner. Every time she passed over the base of my cock, her body contracted a little more. I could feel her squeezing me, her pussy closing and opening around the friction, growing more and more sensitive.

Rodrigo watched in silence from the front. Once, when I looked up, our eyes met. He didn't look away. There was something in his expression that wasn't embarrassment or discomfort; it was pure concentration, the look of someone exactly where he wanted to be, unwilling to miss a thing. He brought his own cock to his mouth for a moment, as if he needed to get himself off too, then went back to watching, swallowing hard.

I didn't fully understand it. But I didn't need to.

Valeria came first, with a hard spasm that arched her back. She dug her fingers into my shoulders and let out a long, deep moan while her pussy squeezed me like a trap. She didn't stop; she kept riding me for a few more seconds, still trembling, pushing herself against my cock with an almost furious desperation, as if she wanted to milk my orgasm with her own body.

When I felt I was about to come, I warned her. She leaned over me, kissed my throat, and lowered one hand to play with my glans, squeezing it lightly and guiding the release. Then she moved me aside a little and knelt between my legs again. She took my cock in her mouth, sucked it hard, and finished what she had started earlier. I came in her mouth with an intensity I hadn't expected after so long. She swallowed without pulling away, holding my gaze as she received my cum as if it had been part of the plan from the beginning—because it probably had. Then she wiped the corner of her mouth with her index finger and returned to the front seat with the same calm with which she'd gotten out of the car half an hour earlier.

***

The three of us stayed silent for a moment.

Rodrigo started the engine. I pulled up my pants and looked out the window, where the vacant lot remained just as dark and quiet as before, as if nothing had happened there.

—Where did you say you lived? —Rodrigo asked in the same voice as always.

I gave him the address. We spent the rest of the drive in silence, but it wasn't an uncomfortable silence. It was the silence of three people who had nothing more to say to one another, but didn't feel the need to pretend otherwise.

He dropped me off in front of my building. Valeria turned around and said goodbye with a brief, almost formal smile.

—Thank you —she said.

—Thank you both —I replied, not really knowing what else to say.

I went up to my apartment, sat on the bed, and stared at the ceiling for a while. I wasn't in shock, but I wasn't entirely calm either. It was more like amazement—the quiet kind of amazement you feel when something happens exactly as it was meant to, even though you didn't seek it out or plan it.

That night I hadn't imagined any of it. I'd gone out for a few drinks with friends and planned to go home. Instead, I ended up experiencing for the first time something I hadn't even known I wanted to experience: having someone watch me fuck his wife, having her let herself be fucked in front of him, having her husband stay there with his cock in his hand, watching us as if he were enjoying every second of seeing me sink into Valeria's pussy—and having that be exactly what all three of us wanted at that moment, with no one needing to apologize for it.

I suppose some experiences don't exist for you until someone else places them right in front of you. And sometimes, if you're lucky, they happen in the back seat of a car in the middle of nowhere, early on a Friday morning, when all you were looking for was a taxi.