My Friend’s Wife Was a Lesbian Without Knowing It

It was Marcos who came up with the idea that night, while the two of us were sharing a drink in the hotel bar where we had celebrated a business dinner. We’d been talking about fantasies for a while, the kind of conversation that only happens when the mood is intimate and the wine has lowered inhibitions, and he dropped the proposal as if it were the most natural thing in the world: he wanted me to seduce his wife. Not only that. He wanted me to fuck her in full detail and then tell him about it while he was sticking his dick into me all the way to the hilt.

I laughed. I thought it was one of those ideas people say at night and forget the next morning. But Marcos was the kind of man who did what he said, and three weeks later he called me to remind me about it. He asked if I was still willing. I said yes.

The plan was simple: a chance meeting on the street, near the market where they did their shopping on Saturdays. Marcos saw me arrive and called me from across the street, with that surprised act we had briefly rehearsed over the phone. He introduced me to his wife, Verónica: about forty, dark hair gathered in a low ponytail, pale green eyes, and a figure that her street clothes did everything possible to hide without quite succeeding.

I held out my hand and felt something in her from the very first moment. A contained tension, that kind of stiffness certain people have when they’ve been holding something in for too long without knowing how to let it out. Marcos explained to her that I was a business partner of his, someone he trusted and with whom it was wise to keep good relations. Verónica greeted me very politely and offered me her friendship almost at once. I accepted it, though she still didn’t know that friendship was going to end with my tongue between her legs before the sun went down.

We arranged to meet a few days later at their house. To avoid raising suspicions, I decided to dress very discreetly: a simple dress with tiny stripes, nothing eye-catching. On the day of the visit I used the same strategy. She opened the door with a broad smile, showed me into the bright living room, and went to the kitchen to make coffee. I took those minutes to observe the apartment: everything in its place, everything clean, everything perfectly tidy, with that excessive order that says someone has too much time to think and too little to fuck.

She came back with the coffee and a plate of pastries and sat down across from me. We talked about unimportant things for a good while: the neighborhood, the shops, summer plans. While we talked, I watched her. She had a very expressive mouth, shoulders that carried more tension than they needed to, and that habit of looking away just when a conversation was starting to get interesting. There was definitely something in there that wanted out, and I intended to get it out of her that very afternoon.

I waited for the right moment. When the conversation reached a natural pause, I told her she was a very beautiful woman, that Marcos was enormously lucky. She smiled, genuinely flattered, without yet knowing where this was going. I took advantage of that instant: I lifted my hand and brushed her arm with my fingers, very slowly, as if it were a casual gesture. Then I leaned toward her and kissed her on the lips.

She stayed completely still for a second. Then, very slowly, she parted her lips and let herself go. I slipped my tongue into her mouth without asking permission, and she took it in with a short moan she swallowed at once. Her body leaned slightly toward mine, just a little, but enough to tell me everything I needed to know. Her eyes were closed and her breathing was starting to speed up. Even so, the moment didn’t last long. She pulled away abruptly, looked at me wide-eyed, and brought her fingers to her mouth.

—I’m sorry, Natalia —she said, her voice tight—. I’m a married woman and this isn’t right.

—You’re right —I replied, perfectly calm—. It’s just that in northern countries this is a common custom among friends, a way of showing affection. But if it bothers you, I’ll leave right now and we won’t see each other again.

I watched her weigh it up. Marcos had expressly asked her to cultivate that friendship, to treat me well. The last thing she wanted was to have to explain to her husband that she had ruined an important relationship over a misunderstanding. She swallowed and said:

—No, sorry. I reacted badly. If it’s a custom there, there’s no reason why we shouldn’t do it too.

I had won the first battle. I moved closer again, and this time I put a hand on her breast, gently, as if exploring something fragile. I squeezed her tit through the fabric and felt the nipple harden against my palm. She didn’t move. Her eyes were still doubtful, but her body remained still, available, as if waiting for someone else to make the decision for her. It was exactly the signal I needed.

I asked her whether she was wearing nice underwear. The question visibly unsettled her, but beneath that discomfort something glinted that was not just embarrassment. As she took too long to answer, I took the initiative: I stood up, took off my dress, and stayed in my black lace lingerie. Her eyes traveled over my figure before she could stop them, paused for a long moment on the black triangle between my legs, and took longer than necessary to return to my face.

I motioned for her to do the same. She muttered something about not expecting visitors, but in the end she stood up and took off her dress. What was underneath was completely functional: beige cotton underwear, with no aesthetic care whatsoever. It was obvious that for a long time no one had paid that kind of attention to her, not even herself.

—We need to update that drawer —I told her.

—Yeah —she answered, blushing a little.

I moved closer and unclasped her bra with a slow motion. She didn’t object. Her tits dropped free, heavy, with her nipples already hard with anticipation. I took them in both hands and pinched the nipples between my thumb and forefinger firmly until a short moan slipped out of her, one she immediately tried to swallow. I licked one and then the other, sucking them until they were shiny and flushed. She closed her eyes. Her breathing changed immediately, becoming slower, deeper. I told her once more that Marcos was a very lucky man. She pressed her lips together and said nothing.

—It’s clear we’re both carrying secrets —I said—. And it’s clear yours have been waiting a long time for the proper way out.

—I suppose —she said, very quietly.

—Then let’s make the most of this.

—All right —she answered—. But Marcos mustn’t find out anything.

What I was thinking at that moment was that in a few hours I would be telling her husband every last detail, while he fucked me thinking about how I had opened up his wife’s cunt.

I laid her down on the sofa and yanked her cotton panties down her legs. I parted her thighs slowly, forcing her to show me what she had only been showing Marcos for years. Her cunt was half-shaved, with the lips already swollen and glossy with moisture. My mouth watered. Before she could react, I buried my face between her legs and ran my tongue from top to bottom, slowly, pressing it flat, tasting her whole. She tensed at once and put her hands on my shoulders, not knowing whether to push me away or stay still.

—Natalia, I’m not... I don’t do this with women —she said, though her voice no longer sounded entirely convinced.

—Not yet —I replied, and buried myself in her again.

I opened the lips of her cunt with two fingers and searched for her clit with the tip of my tongue. It was swollen, throbbing, asking for attention. I started licking it in circles, first gently, then more firmly, alternating with short sucks that made her arch her back against the sofa. Her fingers found the cushion and gripped it tightly, tighter every time. She was trying not to moan, biting her lower lip, but her body yielded on its own, with no help from her mind. I slipped two fingers inside her and felt her close around me, tight, soaking wet. I started fucking her with my fingers while I kept sucking her clit, unhurried, listening to the little moans she could no longer hold back.

—Oh God, Natalia... don’t stop, please don’t stop...

—I wasn’t planning to —I told her, and sank my tongue straight into her cunt, savoring how much she was dripping inside.

I put my hands on her thighs so she wouldn’t move and took my time, without rushing, alternating tongue and fingers, until she began trembling all over. I curved my two fingers upward, looking for that spot inside, and pressed my mouth hard over her cunt lips while sucking her clit. She arched her back, lifted her hips off the sofa, and let out a long moan that filled the entire living room. She came in spurts against my face, with her legs closing around my head, trembling for what felt like minutes. I kept licking her slowly while she came down, gathering with my tongue everything that kept slipping out of her.

When she finished, she stayed with her eyes closed for a few seconds. Then she looked at me with that mix of shame and pleasure that people have when they’ve just crossed a line they never thought they’d cross. My mouth and chin were shining with her.

—Now it’s your turn —I told her.

—Natalia, I’ve never done it. I don’t know how and it makes me uneasy.

I looked at her without answering, with an expression that left little room for doubt. She understood. I took off my panties and sat on the sofa with my legs spread wide. She sat up, a little awkwardly, and knelt on the floor in front of me. She came closer slowly, like someone approaching something unknown. I grabbed her head with one hand and guided it until it was pressed against my cunt.

—Stick out your tongue and lick —I told her—. From bottom to top. Slowly.

She started very hesitantly, without rhythm or confidence. I directed her with short words. I told her to find the clit with the tip, to suck it gently, to slip her tongue inside from time to time. I asked her not to stop, to pay attention. Little by little she found the groove and her tongue began to move with more confidence. The hand I had on the back of her neck relaxed, but I didn’t let go. I squeezed a little when I wanted more pressure, moved her when I wanted her to go up to the clit.

—Put it deeper —I told her—. Like that, very good. Now suck my clit. Yes, like that, harder.

After she’d been doing it well for a while, something changed in her attitude. She stopped obeying out of obligation and started doing it for another reason. She began to lick me hungrily, with her mouth pressed against me, sucking eagerly, slipping in two clumsy fingers that slowly found the right place. I heard her moan while she ate me, a low moan that came from her chest. She was coming again on her own, just from licking me. My student was learning.

I turned myself around and laid her on her back on the sofa. I got on top of her in a sixty-nine, with my cunt over her face and my mouth once again between her legs. I ordered her not to stop. I started moving over her face, fucking her tongue, while I went back to licking her swollen cunt, still wet from the first time. We stayed like that for a good while, moaning against each other, with our hands on thighs, on asses, squeezing whatever we found. I felt her body respond with growing intensity, her hips lifting in search of my mouth, until the two of us came almost at the same time. I came all over her face with a long shudder, pressing her mouth against my cunt, and she came at the same time with my tongue still inside her. She tried to pull away, but I kept her in place.

—Swallow it all —I told her—. That’s part of the lesson too.

—Yes, Natalia —she said, her lips shining.

***

I took her to the bedroom. I made her lie on her back and got on top of her, scissor against scissor, so our cunts rubbed directly together. I started moving, grinding against her, making each of us wet with the other. She moaned at once, no longer ashamed, no longer trying to hide it. I grabbed one thigh and lifted it so I could press harder, so her clit would rub against mine. She pushed her hips upward, asking for more, her mouth open and her eyes closed.

—Poor Marcos —she murmured between moans—. I’m going to put huge horns on him.

—Marcos won’t think that badly of it —I answered, moving faster—. And besides, you’re going to make it up to him in other ways.

She didn’t ask what I meant by that. She was too busy coming again, pressing against me with a sharp moan that slipped out through her open mouth.

When she finished, I told her to wash her mouth and come back. She did it without protesting, with that obedient efficiency of someone who has already decided to comply. When she returned, I tied a scarf around her eyes. She didn’t protest. I made her get on all fours on the bed, her ass up and her head resting on the pillow, and I strapped the harness I had in my bag around my waist, with its silicone cock snugly fitted. It was thick, long, black. I spit on it in my hand and rubbed it to make it thoroughly wet, though I knew she no longer needed that.

I positioned myself behind her, opened the lips of her cunt with two fingers, and drove the silicone cock into her all the way in a single thrust. She let out a cry of surprise that was smothered in the pillow.

—What is that? —she asked, her voice muffled.

—Your new partner —I replied, and started fucking her.

At first she frowned, confused, disoriented by not being able to see. But the body never lies. I grabbed her hips with both hands and started thrusting into her in rhythm, coming almost all the way out and then slamming back in, hitting against her ass with a sound that filled the room. After two minutes her hips started matching the rhythm, pushing back too, to take the whole cock. After five she had forgotten it was silicone and was asking for more, harder, deeper. I slapped her ass and squeezed one cheek with my hand, fucking her hard while she moaned like a bitch in heat, mouth open against the pillow.

—Fuck me, Natalia, fuck me harder, please...

—Do you like it? —I said, giving her another slap—. Do you like being fucked like this?

—Yes, yes, don’t stop...

I grabbed her hair with one hand and pulled back to lift her head while I kept thrusting into her. After ten minutes she came so hard she had to grip the bars of the headboard with both hands, her legs shaking and a hot stream soaking her thighs and the dildo.

I took off the scarf and made her kneel on the floor in front of me. Without giving her time to react, I brought the glossy dildo, slick with her juices, up to her lips.

—Suck it —I told her—. Suck yourself off.

She hesitated for a second. Then she opened her mouth and took it in, closing her eyes. She did it carefully at first, sucking the tip, tasting herself. Then, with a naturalness that surprised even me, she swallowed the dildo halfway, her cheeks hollowed by the suction. I grabbed her head with both hands and pushed it a little deeper. She choked, coughed, and kept sucking, eyes glassy and saliva running down her chin.

—Very good —I told her—. You learn fast.

I had her sit on top of me on the edge of the bed, the harness still on. She understood what I wanted without me saying anything: she turned her back to me, grabbed the cock with her hand, and guided it to the entrance of her cunt. She lowered herself slowly, impaling herself completely with a long moan. She started moving on her own, at her own rhythm, riding me, going up and down, while I grabbed her tits from behind and pinched her nipples. I could feel the dildo coming out and going back in, her ass colliding with my thighs, the way she clenched every time she rose. That image, seeing her so surrendered and confident on top of something that was mine, riding me like a whore with complete naturalness, was something I could never have imagined hours earlier, when she opened the door in her cotton dress and low ponytail.

—Keep going —I told her in her ear, biting her neck—. Fuck my cock. Show me how you do it.

She sped up, her hands on my knees, slamming herself against me, her breasts bouncing. She came again, with a muffled moan, and collapsed against my shoulder, panting.

I made her get back on all fours. She did it without hesitation, offering me her ass as if it were the most natural thing in the world. I positioned myself behind her and, this time, aimed the device at a different place. I set the tip against her asshole and pushed firmly. She arched and let out a short, sharp whimper, pressing herself into the pillow.

—It’s the first time —she said, her voice tight—. Never there...

—I know —I answered—. That’s why we’re doing it now. Relax and breathe.

I pushed slowly, letting her open for me, centimeter by centimeter. I ran my hand down her back to calm her, wet her asshole with my own saliva, and pushed again. The head of the dildo went in all at once and she let out a long moan, somewhere between pain and something that was no longer pain. I grabbed her hip with one hand and found her clit with the other, rubbing it slowly while I penetrated her little by little from behind. The pain lasted very little. I knew her well enough by then to know when her body was ready to keep going. When it was, I pushed all the way in.

I started fucking her in the ass with slow thrusts, deeper and deeper, while I kept touching her clit with two fingers. She began moaning differently, with a new voice, lower, more animal. She pushed her ass backward asking for more. I gave her what she wanted. I sped up, gripping her hips with both hands, fucking her all the way to the hilt, watching the black cock disappear fully inside her ass over and over again.

—God, God, I didn’t think... —she gasped—. I didn’t think it would feel like this...

—Now you know —I told her, and slapped her ass cheek.

She kept moaning, this time without a trace of the shame with which she had started the afternoon. I slipped two fingers into her cunt while I kept fucking her in the ass, and felt her clench all over, felt her tremble from top to bottom. She came with a long cry, soaking my fingers, her ass tightening around the dildo. I kept thrusting while she came, shaking every last tremor out of her.

—Marcos is never going to believe this —she said softly at some point, her face buried in the pillow.

—Marcos knows everything —I replied, without stopping.

She went still for a moment.

—Everything?

—Everything —I confirmed, never pausing, driving it in again to the hilt.

She didn’t say anything else until she finished, undone, her ass red and her legs trembling, collapsing face down on the bed.

***

That night I met Marcos in the hotel room we had reserved for the occasion. I told him every detail calmly and precisely, leaving nothing out: how I had eaten her out on the sofa, how I had taught her to lick me, how I had fucked her with the harness through her cunt and her ass, how she had swallowed the silicone cock with her own juices. As I spoke, I saw his expression change, saw the bulge in his pants grow. When I finished talking, I didn’t need to say anything else. He lunged at me, tore off my clothes, and laid me face down on the bed.

He shoved his dick into me in one stroke, hard as a rock, and started fucking me with the contained rage of having spent the whole day imagining what I had done to his wife. He drove into me hard, grabbing my hair, pressing me into the mattress. He pulled out and stuffed it into my ass without warning, and I let him, moaning into the pillow, while he whispered in my ear to tell him again how I had opened Verónica’s cunt, how I had fucked her with the dildo, whether she had liked it. He came inside me with a long growl, and ten minutes later he was hard again, asking for more details, fucking me another way, imagining I was her. What came after lasted until nearly three in the morning, with the sheets a complete mess and both of us soaked.

Weeks later, Verónica and I were still seeing each other. She had completely renewed the underwear drawer, just as I had suggested, and she showed it to me every time she opened the door, taking off her dress before I even sat down. Marcos knew, approved of it, and from time to time he asked me for a recap of our encounters with the same enthusiasm with which he asked for dessert at the restaurant, always with his hand between my legs while I told him.

It was an arrangement that worked for the three of us, even though officially only Marcos and Verónica were a couple. I was still, in her words, “the outside friend.” Though by then we all knew that description fell quite short, especially when she ended up with my face between her legs and he watched us from the armchair.