When My Boyfriend Brought His Ex, I Understood He Was Our Master

I had been with Andrés for almost a year when I started to understand the difference between loving someone and needing them. Before him, I had a character of my own too, my opinions, my whims. With him, all of that was gradually dissolving, naturally, without anyone asking me to. It was simply easier to say yes to him. More than easier: it was the only thing I wanted to do.

It wasn’t that he dominated me explicitly. Andrés didn’t need to raise his voice or give direct orders. He had that way of looking at me when he proposed something —eyes fixed, a barely perceptible smile at the corner of his mouth— that made my answer already decided before he finished the sentence. And always, without exception, the answer was yes.

We had spent months building something like total trust. We told each other everything: what we liked in bed, what we were embarrassed to admit outside it, what we had thought in silence and never said to anyone else. It was in that context of seamless intimacy that Andrés gradually started talking to me about the idea.

His fantasy wasn’t hard to understand, though it took me a while to fully accept it. He wanted more than one person at his disposal. He didn’t put it like that, of course. He called it “having his circle,” “sharing his world.” But I knew what it meant, and he knew that I knew. And still, I told him yes.

***

On a Tuesday night he called me while I was reading on the sofa.

—Luca’s coming this week —he said, without beating around the bush.

Luca. His ex-boyfriend. French, an architect, I knew him by name and from a photo I had stumbled across on his phone months earlier. In the photo, the two of them were somewhere in the south of France, very tanned, very young, very close together. I didn’t ask him anything when I saw it. I didn’t want to.

—For dinner? —I asked, trying to keep my voice neutral.

—For dinner, yes. I want you to meet him. —He paused briefly.— And I want him to meet you. To fuck you with me watching, Ramón. For the two of you to suck my cock at the same time. To learn what it’s like to have two men on top of me.

I swallowed. My cock had already started getting hard inside my pants before my brain finished processing what he had just said.

—Okay —I said, very quietly.

—Good. —And he hung up.

That week I slept badly three nights in a row.

***

Friday came, and Luca arrived at eight on the dot. Andrés had asked me to be there from seven, so when the doorbell rang I had already spent an hour with a glass of white wine that did absolutely nothing to calm me down.

The first thing I thought when I saw him was that he was exactly as I had imagined: tall, well built, with that kind of effortless bearing men who have traveled a lot have and know they have. He wore a linen shirt unbuttoned to the second button and had dark, slightly tousled hair, as if he had walked over from the metro and was perfectly fine with that. He was what you call an attractive man without making any visible effort.

The second thing I thought was that, despite all that, what I was feeling at that moment was not desire. It was jealousy.

—Luca, this is Ramón —Andrés said, with a hand on my back.

—Nice to meet you. —Luca kissed me on both cheeks, the way they do in France, and looked at me with open, unguarded curiosity. His gaze ran from my mouth down to my fly, without the slightest hesitation.— I’ve heard a lot about you.

—I’ve heard about you too —I said, which was almost entirely a lie.

***

Dinner was surprisingly pleasant. Andrés had cooked something with chicken and lemon that was very good, he opened a second bottle of red wine, and Luca turned out to be the kind of person it’s easy to talk to: he asked questions, listened, had interesting stories about projects in different cities. The conversation flowed without any apparent effort.

But I watched him. I watched how he looked at Andrés when he thought nobody noticed. That mix of familiarity and nostalgia that only two people who have fucked each other many times can have. It’s not something you can fake, nor hide completely.

At one point, Luca said something in French that made Andrés laugh in a way I could rarely get him to laugh: an intimate, complicit laugh, of something shared that I couldn’t understand. I got up to get more water and stood for a moment by the kitchen window, breathing slowly.

I can leave. I can say I don’t feel well and go.

But I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to stay and see what happened. I wanted that man’s cock in my mouth before the night was over. And that, more than anything else, told me something about myself that I still wasn’t entirely ready to admit.

***

After dinner we put music on. Andrés played something soft, jazz with a saxophone that filled the living room without getting in the way. Luca and he danced together, very close, and I watched them from the sofa with my glass in my hand. There was something beautiful and cruel about that image: two men who had fucked each other for years, moving as if time had not passed.

I went to the bathroom. When I came back, I saw that Luca had his hand resting on Andrés’s fly, squeezing the bulge over the fabric.

I sat down and said nothing.

Andrés looked at me over Luca’s shoulder. Just for a second, but it was enough. He let go of Luca gently and came over to me. He held out his hand.

—Come —he said.

I stood up. He hugged me and kissed me on the mouth, slow and deliberate, his tongue sliding all the way in with Luca behind us watching every movement. With his free hand he squeezed my cock over my pants and felt how hard it already was. He smiled against my mouth. It was the kind of kiss that doesn’t say “I love you” but “you’re mine, calm down, now I’m going to fuck you in front of him.” And it worked exactly as he knew it would. The tension I had built up all night disappeared in that second like draining water.

—Dance with us —he asked me.

The three of us danced. At first awkwardly, not quite knowing how to arrange ourselves in that small space. Then Luca put his hands on my shoulders from behind, slid them down over my chest, and ended with an open palm over my hard cock through my pants. Andrés was in front of me, kissing me, while Luca groped me from behind and pressed his own erection against my ass. Nobody said anything. The music kept playing, the sax kept playing, and the three of us moved together in the living room with the lights low and our cocks getting harder and harder.

***

I don’t know exactly when we stopped dancing and started kissing. The shift was gradual, without anyone making a specific decision. Luca kissed me first, very calmly, like someone who knows exactly what he’s doing. He was a good kisser: unhurried, with real attention, biting my lower lip when he pulled away. It surprised me.

Andrés watched us with an open palm over his own cock through his pants, slowly squeezing himself.

Then Luca kissed him, and I watched them: two open mouths, two tongues that knew each other by heart. And then Andrés looked at the two of us, with that smile I knew so well —the one that meant things were going exactly the way he wanted— and said:

—On the floor. Both of you. On your knees.

It wasn’t a question.

***

We knelt on the living room rug. Between Luca and me, we took Andrés’s clothes off slowly, each garment with care, without him rushing us. He didn’t help. He let us undress him like someone accepting a tribute that was due to him. When I pulled down his boxer briefs, his cock sprang free, thick, hard, with the head shining and a drop of precum already beading at the tip. I heard Luca let out a slow breath beside me. He remembered that cock too.

I was the first to open my mouth. I took the whole thing in one go, until the tip hit the back of my throat and I had to breathe through my nose so I wouldn’t choke. Andrés put his hand on the back of my neck and pushed it deeper, unhurriedly, until I felt his balls against my chin. I sucked him like that for a good while, eyes closed and saliva running down my chin, while Luca watched me from the floor, his own cock already out of his pants, stroking himself slowly with his eyes fixed on my mouth.

—Share it —Andrés said.

I pulled my mouth off his cock and held him by the base, offering him to Luca. He leaned in and licked one side while I licked the other. Our tongues brushed together in the middle, around Andrés’s swollen veins. Then Luca took him all the way into his mouth and I devoted myself to sucking his balls, one first, then the other, taking them into my mouth, while he sucked the cock of the man who at some point had been his.

Then we switched. Back to the cock for me, balls for Luca. Then both at once: the two of us with our mouths open, the tip of Andrés’s cock passing from one tongue to the other, spitting saliva mixed together over the glans before taking him in turns. Andrés let out low, controlled sounds. He put his hand on one of our necks or the other to indicate the rhythm. He didn’t ask or demand; he simply guided. It was exactly what I knew of him in private, but seeing him do it with another cock beside him gave it a different dimension: fuller, more complete in some sense I wouldn’t know how to explain properly.

—Enough —he said at last.— Get up. Naked.

***

We stripped quickly, awkwardly, leaving our clothes scattered on the floor. Luca’s cock was thinner than Andrés’s but long, with a red, very swollen head, slightly curved upward. Mine was dripping precum over the glans and down to the foreskin. Andrés looked down at the two of us from above, standing, his saliva-wet cock pointing at the ceiling.

—Luca. Kiss him all over. Start with the mouth and leave nothing out. —He turned to me—. You hold still. Don’t come. If you come before I tell you to, you don’t get fucked tonight.

I nodded. Luca gently pushed me until I was lying face down on the rug, and started with my neck. He worked downward patiently, skipping nothing: the line of my spine, each rib, the hollow of my waist. When he reached the lower part of my back, and then even lower, he spread my ass cheeks with both hands and put his tongue between them, directly against my hole, with a precision that made me grip the rug with my fingers. I closed my eyes and muffled a moan against my arm.

He ate my ass for what felt like a long time. Without hurrying. Getting his tongue inside me, stretching me with two fingers wet with saliva, sucking my balls from behind when he opened my legs wider. At one point he pushed a finger all the way in and curved it upward, and I had to bite my forearm so I wouldn’t come right there, on the rug, without anyone having touched my cock.

I didn’t expect this. I didn’t expect to like it so much.

Then it was my turn to explore Luca with the same slowness he had given me. I laid him on his back and kissed every part I found: his neck, his nipples, his navel, the insides of his thighs. I found his body was different from Andrés’s —thinner, more angular— but just as interesting under my hands. When I got to his cock I held it by the base and took the whole thing into my mouth, feeling it reach the back of my throat. I sucked him without taking my eyes off his until I saw his jaw tense and his hands tighten in my hair. Then I went down, sucked his balls, lifted his legs and licked his ass too, giving him exactly what he had done to me. When I reached his feet I kissed those too, and heard him let out a slow breath, as if he had been holding something in for a while.

***

Andrés told us to get on all fours, side by side. I got into position next to Luca on the rug. Our shoulders almost touched. We looked at each other out of the corner of our eyes, and in that glance there was something that wasn’t exactly complicity but wasn’t strangeness either. It was recognition: we both wanted exactly the same thing that night —Andrés’s cock in our ass, all the way in, no mercy— and we both knew we were going to get it.

—Ass up —Andrés said.— Back down. Like this.

He adjusted the two of us with his hand, pushing us down by the back of the neck until our cheeks were against the rug and our asses were high, offered. I heard the snap of the lube bottle. I felt Andrés’s cold fingers spreading my cheeks, a stream of gel on my hole, and then two fingers going in at once, circling, stretching me. Beside me, Luca let out a rough moan when Andrés did the same to him.

He started with Luca. I heard his breathing change, grow deeper and less regular. I heard the wet, unmistakable sound of a thick cock slowly entering an ass. Luca moaned long, with his mouth open against the rug, and I, beside him, squeezed my cock with my hand so I wouldn’t come just from hearing it.

—Look —Andrés said to me.— Look at me fuck him.

I turned my head. Andrés was on his knees behind Luca, hands on his waist, pushing into him all the way to the balls and pulling almost all the way out before thrusting in again. His cock came out shining with saliva and lubricant every time. Luca’s face was red and his mouth was open and sounds were coming out of his throat I had never heard in a person before.

After a few minutes, Andrés moved over to me. He spread my ass cheeks with both hands and put himself at my entrance. I felt the head of his cock, warm and slick from Luca’s ass, resting against my hole. He pushed slowly.

When I felt him enter, warm and slow, I had to rest my forehead on the floor for a moment. It was the same feeling as always, but different: more urgent, more charged, because Luca was beside me and could hear in his breathing the same thing Andrés was provoking in me. He drove himself all the way in with one final thrust and left himself there, balls against mine, waiting for me to get used to it.

—Squeeze —he said.

I squeezed. Andrés let out a growl and started fucking me. At first with long, slow thrusts that sucked the air out of my lungs. Then faster, his hand tight in my neck, pushing my face into the rug. I moaned every time he pulled out, unable to control myself, and each of my moans seemed to sync with one of Luca’s beside me, who was stroking himself while watching us.

Sharing that state with another man, in real time, without mediation, turned out to be an experience that had no proper name but that I recognized at once as something I would remember for a long time.

Andrés switched between the two of us for a stretch of time none of us measured. Every time he came back to me, I could feel him different: thicker from how wet I was, rougher because with every minute he held back less. And each time, it was harder not to come. I asked permission twice, muffled against the rug, and both times he told me no.

—Not yet. Hold it.

***

The end came when Andrés decided it was time. He pulled his cock out of Luca’s ass, stood up, and called us both to him.

—Here. On your knees. Mouth open.

We knelt in front of him, shoulder to shoulder, mouths open and tongues out like two pups waiting. Andrés jerked himself off over us, his thick red cock moving from one mouth to the other, letting us lick the tip in turns. When he came, he did it with a sound that was the closest thing to losing control I had ever heard from him: a thick spurt that landed on my tongue and chin, another that went straight into Luca’s mouth, more that he split between the two of us, hanging from our lips and cheeks.

—Share it —he said, his voice hoarse.

Luca came over to my mouth and kissed me with Andrés’s come filling his lips. Our tongues mingled with the warm, salty taste of him, passing the load from one mouth to the other until we swallowed it down together. Andrés watched us, satisfied, unhurried, his cock still hard and dripping the last threads onto our chests.

—Now you —he said.— On me. Both of you at once.

He lay back on the rug. Luca and I straddled him, one on each side of his waist, and started stroking ourselves with our eyes fixed on his. I was so close that it took barely any work. I came first, with a long moan, a thick stream that landed on Andrés’s chest, another on his stomach, more staining his skin. Luca finished a few seconds later, moaning something in French I didn’t understand, splattering over my cum until the two streams of semen mixed across him.

We stayed there for a few seconds, motionless, thighs trembling slightly, panting. Andrés ran two fingers across his chest, coated them in the mixed cum of the two of us, and brought them to his mouth. He sucked them slowly, never taking his eyes off us.

Then he pulled us toward him, one under each arm, not caring that we were making him even messier. He held us with the same calm he used for everything else.

—Good —he said. Nothing more.

It was enough.

***

That night the three of us slept in Andrés’s bed. Him in the middle, Luca and me on each side. The room was silent, except for the three of us breathing and the occasional distant car in the street below.

I couldn’t sleep. I stared at the ceiling and tried to decide how I felt about it. I expected to find something uncomfortable: shame, maybe, or that feeling of having crossed a line you don’t come back from. But there was none of that.

What there was felt more like calm. A strange, solid calm, like the one you get after doing exactly what you’re supposed to do at a given moment.

I turned my head toward Andrés. He was sleeping with his mouth slightly open, his chest rising and falling slowly. His hand was resting on my hip, not squeezing, just there, as if it were its natural place.

I’m in love with this man.

It wasn’t the first time I had thought it, but that night it carried a different weight. As if the experience we had just shared had made the certainty more solid instead of more complicated. As if seeing him like that —our king, we had called him between the three of us without even agreeing on it, while he fucked us one after the other on the rug— had explained him to me better than any conversation ever could.

We agreed that Luca would come back.

And I already know what my answer will be.