I Asked My Boyfriend to Bring His Best Friend

Vero’s invitation to her anniversary party had Damián and me arguing about what I should wear from seven that evening. I ended up choosing a short black skirt and a sheer blouse, no bra, because the heat that March night was too much for anything else. I was painting my lips in front of the bathroom mirror when he appeared behind me with that look I knew by heart.

—Put it in —he said, leaving the blue box on the sink—. For the party.

I looked at him in the reflection. I knew what he meant without opening the box. It was the anal plug he’d given me a few months earlier. We’d used it a handful of times, always in bed, always to turn him on while he watched me put it in and pull it out. I’d never taken it out of the house.

—At the party? —I asked, lipstick suspended halfway across my mouth.

—Before we leave —he said, setting his hands on my shoulders—. And you don’t take it out until I tell you to.

I didn’t answer. I opened the box, took out the toy, lubricated it, and leaned against the edge of the sink. Damián stood behind me. I felt his fingers parting me, the plug’s cool tip pushing in with that pressure that always made me close my eyes and bite my lip. It hurt for a second, that familiar stretch, and then came the fullness. I stood still, breathing through my nose, while he adjusted my underwear and lowered my skirt with a smack on my ass.

—All set —he said—. Now let’s go.

We went down the building’s stairs holding hands. Every step was a reminder. It didn’t hurt, but it was there, dense and hot, a secret walking with me beneath my clothes. The street was cool and almost empty. Damián didn’t let go of my fingers during the two blocks between us and the house. Every so often he squeezed my hand and smiled without looking at me, as if he knew exactly what I felt with every movement of my hips.

We could hear the music from the sidewalk. Bass that made the windows vibrate, red and blue lights flashing behind the curtains. When he opened the door, the heat and noise hit me in the face.

—The last ones have arrived! —someone shouted from the living room.

Greetings, smiles, a plastic cup in my hand, and on we went. Damián led me to the kitchen, where the music was less oppressive. I leaned against the counter. Every time I laughed or stretched to grab my beer, the plug shifted a millimeter and I felt everything: my stomach, my clitoris, my legs, everything hot and tense.

—Are you okay? —he asked, his mouth pressed to my ear.

I bit his earlobe in reply. Damián let out a low laugh and gave me a quick kiss on the neck.

Someone turned up the volume. A slow, dirty reggaeton song pushed everyone toward the center of the living room. Damián took me there, ran his hands over my hips, and pressed me against him. It wasn’t dancing; it was rubbing against each other. His already-hard bulge pressed against my lower back, right at the edge where the plug was. I had to bite my lip to keep from moaning out loud in the middle of twenty people.

And then I felt Nicolás.

A new heat, close by. He’d come over to dance with us, keeping just the right amount of distance. Nicolás had been Damián’s best friend for years. Tall, broad-armed, with that slow smile that formed on only one side of his mouth. I’d looked at him more than once, and he’d looked at me, and we’d both always pretended not to notice.

Damián didn’t pretend not to notice that night. Without taking his hands from my hips, he turned his head and spoke to Nicolás over my shoulder.

—Are you going to stand there watching all night, Nico?

Nicolás must have answered something, because Damián laughed, briefly and conspiratorially. Then he loosened his grip. He didn’t let me go. Rather, he opened me up. He gave him room. And he spoke again, more clearly this time.

—Come on.

Nicolás slid in front of me in one smooth movement. Damián guided me with his hand so that my back was against his chest, and now Nicolás’s face was in front of mine, his smile halfway raised, his eyes fixed on my mouth. Damián embraced me from behind, his hands spread over my belly, marking the space between the two of them.

—Now dance with him —he murmured in my ear.

I obeyed, my face burning and the plug throbbing with every movement. Nicolás lowered his hands to my thighs, barely touching me, brushing over my skirt. Damián tightened his arms around my waist. I stood still for a second, trapped between the two bodies, and realized I liked it. Not halfway, not little by little. I liked it completely, my pussy wet beneath my underwear and my tits hard against my blouse.

Nicolás let his gaze drop from my eyes to my mouth, and I made the first move. I leaned forward and kissed him. It was quick, urgent, tasting of beer. When I pulled away, Damián was already taking my hand.

He led me off the dance floor without saying a word. We crossed the hallway, dodging people. He pushed open a door and pulled me into a small room with a single bed, a wardrobe, and an unlit lamp. He closed the door behind us. In the darkness, the only sounds were his breathing and mine.

He slammed me against the door and kissed me with his lips open, his whole tongue, his hands slipping inside my blouse to search for my tits. He pinched my nipples and tore a moan from me, swallowing it with his mouth. Then he parted his lips just enough to speak against mine.

—I put the plug in you for a reason —he said, his voice hoarse—. Tonight I’m going to fuck your ass.

I was left breathless. I was about to say something when he kissed me again, harder, biting my lip. Then he lowered his mouth to my neck, sucking, biting, marking my skin as if he wanted to leave a permanent trace.

—And there’s more —he growled against my skin—. Something else I want.

He lifted his face. In the half-light I could barely see his eyes, but I felt his hot breath on my face.

—I want a threesome. With Nico. Here. Now.

My legs went weak. He caught me. His hands moved down my back to my buttocks and squeezed me possessively.

—I’ve been thinking about it since we arrived —he continued—. Watching you dance with him, watching him look at you. I gave you to him. And I want more. And you? Didn’t you feel anything with him pressed against you?

I didn’t answer the question. I couldn’t. I had felt something—too much—and I was already imagining both things at once, both cocks, the one I already knew and the new one, one on each side, and I was ashamed to say it. So I told him the only thing I could say without dying.

—Go tell him.

Damián left the room. I stayed alone for two minutes, leaning against the door, feeling the hot plug and my tits still hard against the fabric. The door opened. They both came in.

Nicolás didn’t look surprised. He looked like someone who had been waiting all night to be called. Damián locked the door and came straight to me. He grabbed my face and kissed me, deep and possessive, staking his claim. And then I felt the other hands. Nicolás’s. Big and hot, moving up my waist from behind, pushing my blouse upward, grabbing one of my tits from behind while Damián kissed me from the front.

I had never felt four hands at once. It was impossible to keep up with all of them. One of Damián’s hands was on my nape, the other squeezing my hip. One of Nicolás’s pinched a nipple from behind; the other slipped beneath my skirt, traveling up my thigh to my panties, finding the wetness there before touching me. Nicolás growled against my shoulder when he discovered how wet I was.

They stripped me between them. My blouse came off over my head, my skirt fell to the floor, and Damián lowered my panties carefully so as not to move the plug. They left me naked in the middle of the room, with the street’s bad light coming through the window. They took off their shirts and pants. Both of them had hard, outlined cocks. Nicolás’s was a little thicker and a little shorter than Damián’s. My mouth watered before I could stop it.

Damián pushed me onto the bed, face down, on all fours. He opened my legs with his knees. There was no preparation; it hadn’t been necessary. He drove into my pussy in one thrust, all the way to the hilt, without taking the plug from my ass. A muffled cry escaped me, half pain, half pure pleasure. Feeling him inside me with the other thing squeezing me from within was another dimension. He started moving immediately, hard, without giving me time to adjust.

Nicolás knelt in front of me. He took my face between his hands and brought me to his cock. I opened my mouth. I gripped the base with one hand and shoved it deeper into myself, choking a little, letting him fuck my mouth at whatever pace Damián set behind me.

—Look at how she opens for it —Damián told Nicolás, his voice broken by his thrusts—. Look at how she eats it.

Nicolás growled. They were both talking to me, talking about me, and I loved it. I no longer knew whether I was moaning or crying. I only felt one cock behind me and the other in front, and how every thrust from Damián drove me to take more of Nicolás into my mouth, choking without wanting to let him go.

They stayed like that for a while. Then they switched without warning. Damián pulled out and moved in front of me. Nicolás took his place behind me. I felt different hands on my hips, a different breadth, a different way of entering me. Nicolás pushed into me with one long thrust and tore a gasp from me, which Damián covered with his mouth. A different rhythm, slower, deeper. In front of me, Damián no longer put himself in my mouth; he crouched down and kissed me with tongue, biting my lip, while Nicolás pounded me from behind and the plug shifted inside me with every blow.

They took turns. Again and again. Every change brought a new release. Each had his own rhythm, his own angle, his own hands. I was soaked, trembling, no longer able to think. I was being properly fucked, by two men, and I wanted more.

Nicolás was inside me when I said it. I lifted my head, looked into his eyes, and the words came out before I could stop them.

—Take the plug out —I gasped—. I want both of you. Inside me. At the same time.

Damián, who was in front of me with one hand on my jaw, let out a triumphant growl. His eyes went black with lust.

—Did you hear her? —he asked Nicolás.

Nicolás nodded with a savage smile. He pulled out slowly. Damián moved behind me. I felt his familiar fingers searching for the plug’s base, pushing little by little, and then a strange instant of emptiness when he pulled it out. He let it fall beside the bed with a dull thud.

—Lie down —Damián ordered Nicolás.

Nicolás obeyed, lying on his back in the middle of the bed, his cock standing against his stomach. Damián grabbed my hips and guided me over him. I positioned myself with my knees on either side and lowered myself slowly. I felt Nicolás filling my pussy, still soaked from the other man, and arched with a long moan. He grabbed my tits and began pushing upward.

Damián moved behind me. I felt the tip of his cock, wet with my own juices, pressing against my other hole, now empty, now opened by having held the plug all night.

—Relax —he told me in my ear. It wasn’t a request.

One slow, firm push, and I felt him opening me, stretching me in a new way while I was already full of Nicolás in front. A scream caught in my throat. It was an impossible fullness, a total filling, as if they were going to split me in two and I liked it.

There they had me. Impaled between them, every inch occupied, every breath shared with their movements. The world narrowed to a single point of pressure and heat.

They started moving. At first, alternately: when Damián withdrew, Nicolás pushed from below; when Nicolás sank into me, Damián advanced from behind. A brutal, perfect choreography that stretched every limit of my body. Then they found the rhythm and synchronized. A thrust, a retreat, two cocks filling me from both sides at once. I moaned uncontrollably, guttural sounds I didn’t recognize as my own. Damián growled obscene things against my nape—“That’s it, slut,” “You love it,” “Look how we’re giving it to you together”—and Nicolás squeezed my thighs, panting, his eyes closed in ecstatic concentration.

I came with a muffled cry, without meaning to, without warning. My whole body shook, my pussy clenched around Nicolás, my ass around Damián, and they both growled at the same time. It was the longest, strangest orgasm of my life, shaking me from two places at once while they kept thrusting, prolonging it until I could barely breathe.

Nicolás was the first to finish. A short growl, one final thrust from below, and I felt him release inside me, hot. He pulled out quickly, panting, and collapsed to one side. Damián didn’t. He grabbed my hips with both hands, harder, and fucked me deeper with Nicolás outside, three or four brutal thrusts, until he roared against my shoulder and I felt his cum filling me inside, pulsing with every heartbeat.

Afterward, silence. Weight, panting, the mattress sinking beneath three bodies. Damián let himself fall on top of me. Nicolás lay beside us. I was crushed against the mattress, grinning like an idiot, trying to remember how to breathe normally.

A while later, two hands began caressing me, one from each side. Damián’s on my side, tracing slow circles over my sensitive skin. Nicolás’s on my shoulder, moving down my arm with a gentleness I hadn’t known he possessed in bed. No one said anything. Only those hands, soothing the tremors that still ran through me.

That night, in a stranger’s room that smelled of sweat and the three of us, something broke forever. It wasn’t the plug. It wasn’t the threesome. It wasn’t Damián fucking my ass while Nicolás fucked my pussy. It was desire. My desire. It stopped being a response to what he asked of me and became my own voice, clear, demanding, and without shame.

When I told him, “I want both of you,” I wasn’t obeying anyone. I was asking for what I wanted. And they gave it to me.