I Watched Them Flirt and Knew I Wanted Them Both

The café had that golden five o’clock light that makes even the worst tired face look pretty. Lucía and Sebastián were across from me, separated by a small table, two nearly empty coffees, and a tension I was the only one seeing in all its naked letters.

—Seriously, you’ve never been to Cartagena? —she was saying, leaning forward.

—Seriously. I always put it off —he answered, with that half-smile I knew too well.

I drank my café con leche in silence, sitting next to Lucía but watching the two of them like someone watching a match. It had been my idea to bring them together. A casual outing with friends, now that Sebastián and I had ended things on good terms, now that Lucía and I told each other almost everything. I thought they’d get along. I didn’t expect them to like each other so much, so fast.

Lucía laughed at something he said and touched his forearm. Once. Three seconds. Enough.

Here we go, I thought.

Lucía is one of those women who never realizes the effect she has. She has shoulder-length brown hair, huge eyes, and a way of biting her lip when she laughs that drives anyone crazy. That night she was wearing a cream V-neck sweater and jeans that hugged her hips. I knew it well. I had seen those jeans fall to the floor of her room one November dawn, and underneath them a soaked black thong I’d ripped off her with my teeth.

Sebastián wasn’t immune either. I knew him better than I knew myself. I know exactly how his shoulders look when he leans in, how his jaw tightens when he’s holding something back. And that night, looking at Lucía, he was holding back a lot. I knew perfectly well what was under those jeans. I knew the exact shape of his cock, the weight of his balls in my hand, the taste of his cum when he came in my mouth.

—And what do you think? —Lucía asked me suddenly, turning toward me—. Marcos says the beach at night is overrated.

—Sebastián —I corrected, smiling—. And tell him what I think: that he doesn’t understand anything.

He raised his eyebrows, pretending to be offended. Lucía burst out laughing. They went back to their conversation. I kept drinking.

God, the two of them are so clumsy. If they touch each other three more times, that’s it.

The funny thing was, the idea didn’t make me jealous. Not entirely. It gave me something stranger, hotter. A little tingle low in my belly I’d spent half an hour trying to ignore and that had already left my cunt wet, stuck to the seam of my panties.

I had been with both of them. Separately. At different moments, for different reasons, with different results. And now that I was watching them on the verge of being together, all I could think was: I want to be there when it happens, I want to see his cock going into her cunt, I want to hear her moan when he splits her open.

***

Lucía was an accident. Or that’s what I tell myself when I tell it to myself so it sounds less deliberate.

It had been the birthday party of a coworker from the office. We’d drunk too much and, around one in the morning, she told me her place was closer, not to bother calling a cab, that she had a sofa. I said yes.

I didn’t sleep on the sofa.

It started because she offered me a T-shirt to sleep in and, when she handed it to me, she stayed standing in the bathroom doorway, watching me change. She didn’t look away. I didn’t bother covering up either. I remember the thick silence, the electricity that had nothing to do with the drinking. I stayed in my bra and panties and watched her swallow, watched her drop her eyes to my tits, to my cunt, and lift them back to my face with her cheeks burning.

—What? —I asked, with the shirt half on.

—Nothing —she said, not moving.

I walked to where she was standing. Put a hand on her waist. She kissed me first, before I’d made up my mind to do it, and in that second I knew she’d been imagining it for months. It was a hungry kiss, tongue from the very first instant, teeth clacking and breaths coming fast. She slipped her hands under my bra and squeezed my tits with an avidity I hadn’t expected from her.

We went to her bed without talking, stumbling over our clothes. I pulled off that cream sweater —yes, the same one she wore this afternoon at the café— and stopped for a second just to look at her. Her breasts are small, perfect, with pink nipples that are very sensitive. I learned that first night that all it takes is a couple of licks for her back to arch in an outrageous way. I sucked them slowly, one and then the other, nibbling the tip until she started gasping and grabbing my hair. “Harder,” she asked me, and I bit her nipple until she cried out.

I went down slowly. I kissed her belly, her hips, the insides of her thighs. When I moved the last piece of clothing aside, I found she was completely shaved and very wet. Her cunt was swollen, the inner lips peeking out pink and shiny, and a drop of slick sliding down toward her ass. I opened her with two fingers and paused for a second, looking at her like that, exposed, before lowering my mouth.

I tasted her without hurry, mentally noting what she liked: my tongue flat on her clit, better than the tip. My hand on her waist, holding her in place, better than letting her body go loose. I licked her from bottom to top, from her ass to her clit, in one long stroke that made her mewl. Then I focused on the little hood, sucking it between my lips like a small candy while I slid two fingers into her cunt and searched for that rough patch on the upper wall. I found it. Her stomach started to shake.

—Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop —she kept repeating, her thighs clamping around my head.

It didn’t take long. She came with a muffled cry against the pillow, squeezing my fingers with spasms in her cunt I felt one by one, and when she tried to return the favor, I told her no, that tonight was for her. Lie. In the end she returned it anyway. She asked me to get on all fours, got behind me, and licked me from clit to ass with a slowness that made me cry, and she didn’t stop until I came twice in a row over her tongue.

The next morning she kept me between her legs for almost an hour before either of us wanted coffee. She finger-fucked me with three fingers while I ate her cunt, and we came almost at the same time, the sunlight coming through the window and the sheets a sticky mess.

After that we never talked about it. It never happened again. We kept seeing each other as friends, like before, as if that night had never existed. But it had. And I remembered it every time I saw her bite her lip.

***

With Sebastián it was different. Sebastián was months, not one night. It was about slowly learning what he liked and what I liked, and how those two maps crossed.

What I remember most about Sebastián is the way he took his time. He was never in a hurry. He always started by kissing me behind the ear, in that exact spot on the neck almost nobody thinks to look for, and I’d come undone before he’d even taken off the first thing.

He had big hands and knew how to use them. He knew when to squeeze and when to barely touch. When we were together he could spend twenty minutes with just his fingers, watching my face, measuring every breath of mine as if he were studying an instrument. He’d slide two thick fingers all the way in, thumb pressed to my clit, and make me come without changing rhythm even once.

And then there was the other part. Sebastián has a thick, long cock, slightly curved to the left. The difference shows. The first time he took it out of his boxers I stared at it for a second, calculating whether it was going to fit. The head was thick, purple, with that vein running underneath that always made me want to trace it with my tongue. And that’s exactly what I did: I grabbed it with both hands and took it into my mouth as far as I could, swallowing saliva, feeling it hit the back of my throat until my eyes watered.

—Fuck, like that, like that —he growled, his hands on the back of my neck, not quite squeezing.

I learned fast how to suck him the way he liked it: slowly at first, with lots of saliva, devoting time to the head and the balls, then finishing with my mouth down to the base and my hand twisting in the middle. He loved it when I looked him in the eyes while I sucked him. He loved coming in my mouth and having me swallow it and show him my empty tongue afterward. I learned all of that in the first few weeks.

The first time he fucked me took me a while to get used to, to understand the angle, but once I’d learned the trick, it was a very particular experience. The curve hit the front wall of my cunt with every thrust, right where a woman goes crazy, and after ten minutes I didn’t know what my name was anymore. He liked to enter slowly at first, tapping the opening of my cunt with the head before sinking all the way in, as if asking me “are you sure?” with each one. He opened me with the tip, slid it between my wet lips, and only when I was already lifting my hips and begging would he shove all the way in with one hard thrust.

—How do you want it? —he always asked at first.

—However you want —I answered, still not daring to ask.

After that I learned to ask. I learned to tell him “harder,” “wreck me,” “on all fours,” “pull my hair.” I learned that he delivered. I learned that he liked to spit in my cunt before he put it in, that he liked to watch himself going in and out, that he liked pulling out just before he came and emptying himself all over my tits or face. I also learned it was almost impossible for him to come before I did, and that was an unfair advantage in his favor I never stopped being grateful for. He made me come with his mouth, with his fingers, with his cock, sometimes with all three in the same night.

We broke up for boring reasons. Different degrees, different cities, that strange age when no one wants to be tied down to anything. There was no drama. We had gone six months without seeing each other when he called me to get coffee and catch up. And it occurred to me: Lucía should meet him. She’d like him.

Sometimes an idea is just an idea. Sometimes it’s an excuse you give yourself because you know what you’re really looking for.

***

I came back to the café, to the present. Sebastián was telling a story from work and Lucía was laughing with her head thrown back, showing her long neck, her collarbones. Her knees, under the table, were brushing his. It wasn’t an accident. They’d been brushing for fifteen minutes and neither of them moved away.

I closed my eyes for a second. I imagined them.

I imagined Sebastián lying on his back in Lucía’s bed, the same one I’d once been in, and her on top of him, riding him slowly, her small breasts trembling with each movement and that thick cock going all the way in. I imagined their gasps —I knew both of them, knew exactly how they sounded— mingling. I imagined Sebastián holding her by the waist the way he held me, thumbs dug into her hips, marking her. I imagined Lucía’s face when he came up harder from below, that look of surprise I know she makes because I’ve seen it, her mouth open and eyes half-lidded.

I imagined his cock sliding out of her cunt shiny with white strings of slick clinging to it. I imagined Lucía lowering herself to suck him, tasting herself on the head, and Sebastián with his jaw tight watching her. I imagined the moment he’d flip her over, put her on all fours and drive his cock all the way in while he squeezed her ass with both hands.

And I imagined myself there, on my knees at the side of the bed, watching. Just watching, at first. Then not. Then with my own hand between my thighs, rubbing my clit to the rhythm of his thrusts, biting my lip so I wouldn’t moan.

I pressed my thighs together under the table. I was wet. I was absurdly wet in a neighborhood café at five-thirty in the afternoon, watching my ex-boyfriend flirt with my best friend, feeling my panties stick to my swollen cunt.

—I’m going to the bathroom —I said, standing up.

Neither of them protested. They barely noticed.

In the bathroom mirror I looked at my face. My cheeks were flushed and my eyes a little distant. I washed my hands slowly, thinking. I slipped one hand under my skirt for a second, just a second, and touched myself over my panties. They were soaked. I pulled the fabric aside and ran my finger over my open cunt, from top to bottom, and I nearly had to bite my hand to keep from gasping in the café bathroom.

I could leave them. I could pay for my coffee, say goodbye, go home and let them sort out their own business, if they even dared. That was the reasonable thing. The right thing.

But for half an hour I’d been feeling a tug in my lower belly that wasn’t going to go away on its own. And I knew them both. I knew what each one gave. I knew how she sucked and I knew how he fucked. I also knew, with a strange certainty, what I was going to give if the afternoon bent the way I wanted it to.

I dried my hands. I went back out.

When I got to the table, they were even closer. Lucía had her cheek on her hand and was looking at him like a fifteen-year-old girl. Sebastián was playing with the coffee spoon, pretending he hadn’t noticed the effect he was having.

I sat down. Cleared my throat. They both turned toward me at once.

—I’m going to tell you something —I began, with a steadiness I could barely feel—. Don’t be offended.

—Shoot —Lucía said, still smiling.

—You like each other —I continued—. I’ve seen it for an hour. And I think that’s great.

Sebastián opened his mouth to protest, with that fake look of someone caught doing something. Lucía went red to the ears.

—No, don’t get nervous —I went on—. I don’t care. Really. But since we’re being honest…

I leaned forward a little. Lowered my voice.

—I’m going to tell you something. Sebastián was my boyfriend for two years, Lucía, you already know that. What you don’t know —I said, looking her in the eyes— is that you and I fucked the night of Cris’s birthday. I ate your cunt until you screamed into the pillow, and the next morning you ate mine.

Lucía’s eyes went wide. Sebastián’s spoon froze halfway to his mouth.

—And what you don’t know —I went on, now looking at him— is that I know Lucía’s cunt better than most people who know her. I know how she comes, I know what she likes, and I know how fucking good she tastes.

There was a strange silence, thick, lasting several seconds. Then Lucía smiled. A slow smile, as if she were starting to understand. Sebastián shifted in his chair and, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the bulge beginning to show in his jeans.

—Where are you going? —she asked, her voice a little hoarse.

—To my place —I said—. I live three streets over. I’ve got wine. And a pretty big bed.

Sebastián looked at Lucía. Lucía looked at me. I looked at both of them.

We paid for the coffee without speaking.

***

Lucía kissed me the moment we walked through the door, before she’d even taken off her coat, while Sebastián locked it. She shoved me against the entryway wall, slid her tongue into my mouth, and squeezed one tit over my sweater with her open hand. I unbuttoned her jeans right there in the hallway and slid my hand inside. She was already wet, with her panties stuck to the shaved cunt I knew by heart.

Sebastián stayed looking at us for a moment from the hall, saying nothing, one hand over the bulge in his pants. I held out my other hand for him to come closer. He did. He stood behind me, moved my hair off my neck, and started kissing me right there behind the ear while Lucía kept eating my mouth. I felt his hard cock pressing into my lower back through his jeans and a moan slipped out into her mouth.

We stripped in the hallway, laughing now and then, tripping over our clothes. I yanked Sebastián’s jeans down and pulled his cock out of his briefs. There it was, just as I remembered: thick, long, with that left curve and the head already shiny with pre-cum. Lucía looked at it like someone finding a gift. She dropped to her knees right there on the entryway floor and took it all the way into her mouth in one go.

—Fuck —he gasped, both hands braced against the wall above my shoulder.

I knelt beside Lucía. Looked at her. We smiled at each other. I leaned in and licked Sebastián’s cock from base to tip just as she pulled it out of her mouth. We shared it like that for a while, both of us licking him at the same time, our tongues clashing on the head, taking turns sucking his balls. Sebastián breathed through his mouth and watched us through half-closed eyes, bracing himself against the wall so he wouldn’t fall.

—Stop, stop, I’m going to come —he said, his voice broken.

—Not yet —I answered, standing up.

The three of us ended up in my bedroom, lights low. Lucía laid me on my back on the bed and pried my legs open with her knees. She looked at my open cunt for a second and smiled.

—It’s just as delicious as last time —she said, and lowered her head.

She licked me slowly, with that pointed tongue I remembered, running it over my inner lips, in and out of my cunt, up to my clit to suck it between her lips. I arched right away. She knew her way back.

Sebastián climbed onto the bed and knelt beside my face. I grabbed his cock with my hand and took it into my mouth sideways, twisting my neck, never stopping feeling Lucía’s tongue working my cunt. I sucked him while she ate me. I felt the thick head hit my palate and I could feel Lucía sliding two fingers inside me and curling them upward, searching for the spot Sebastián knew so well.

—You know it —she whispered to me at one point, pulling away from my cunt and up to my ear—. Show me.

And I guided her. I took her hand and placed it on his cock. I showed her how he liked to be touched, with the wrist turning a little on every stroke, squeezing harder at the base and easing off at the tip. I showed her where to kiss it: the vein underneath, the frenulum, the balls. I marked the rhythm for sucking him, slow at first and only speeding up when he started lifting his hips on his own.

Lucía learned fast. She took him into her mouth with both hands at the base and started sucking him the way I’d taught her, glancing sideways at me, seeking approval with her eyes. I nodded. Sebastián let his head fall back with a long groan.

While she ate him, her mouth moved over my neck, my tits, my belly, remembering me by heart. She sucked my nipples one by one, biting them right at the point where it began to hurt, and slid her hand between my legs to rub my clit with two fingers damp with my own slick.

A while later, the roles changed. He asked me to show him how to touch Lucía in turn. She was lying on her back, legs spread, cunt gleaming. I lowered Sebastián’s hand and put it on top of hers. I showed him the angle: two fingers going in from below and up, not straight on, looking for the rough patch on the roof of her cunt. I showed him the pressure: firm on the clit but with the fingertip, not the nail, and in small circles, not up and down. I showed him the difference between what left her indifferent and what made her arch.

—Like this, look —I said, guiding his fingers myself while Lucía closed her eyes and started to gasp.

Sebastián learned on the first try. In two minutes she was writhing, one hand gripping the sheets and the other on her own nipple, pinching it. I lay down beside him and started licking the other nipple while he kept working her cunt with his fingers.

—Put it in —I told Sebastián in his ear—. She’s ready. Put it in.

He got between Lucía’s legs. He grabbed his cock with his hand and ran the head along her cunt lips, up and down, exactly the same motion that drove me crazy. He gave her two soft taps at the entrance. She lifted her hips, searching for him.

And he went in.

The look on Lucía’s face when he sank all the way in was exactly what I’d imagined in the café: mouth open, eyes wide and then shut all at once, a long gasp escaping her chest. Sebastián’s cock curve hit her cunt wall exactly where it was supposed to. I knew it. I watched her face contort and knew exactly what she was feeling.

Sebastián started moving slowly, going in and out all the way, watching himself slide shiny out of Lucía’s cunt. She dug her nails into his back and asked for harder. He sped up. I knelt beside the bed and kept watching, just as I’d imagined, one hand between my own thighs.

Then I wasn’t just watching anymore. I climbed onto the bed and sat on Lucía’s face. She grabbed my ass and buried her mouth in my cunt without asking permission, eating me with the same hunger as that first night while Sebastián kept pounding her from below. I leaned forward, bracing myself on the headboard, and watched from above as his cock went in and out of her, shining with slick, while her tongue swept over my clit.

The three gasps mixed together. The three smells. Sweat, sex, the wine from the café still on our breath. Lucía came first, with a muffled cry against my cunt, her legs trembling around Sebastián’s hips. I came almost right after, squeezing her face with my thighs, feeling her suck my clit between two convulsions.

Sebastián held out, as he always did. He pulled out of Lucía with his cock hard, shining, coated in white slick. He turned to me and said:

—Come here.

And I did.

I got off Lucía and went on all fours at the edge of the bed. He positioned himself behind me. He ran the tip over my open cunt a couple of times, soaking it, and then shoved all the way in with one hard thrust. I cried out. The curve hit where it was supposed to again, this time in me, and in three thrusts he had me almost coming again.

Lucía got under me, lying on her back with her head between my legs hanging off the bed’s edge. She licked my clit while Sebastián fucked me from behind. She licked his balls too every time he pulled back. I didn’t know where to put my face. I lowered my mouth and started sucking her nipples, and then eating her cunt once more, my face buried between her thighs while Sebastián’s cock split me open from behind.

I came again. And again. Sebastián held out until I asked him to, my voice broken: “come, come now, inside,” and he let out a long groan and came deep in my cunt, driving all the way in. He pulled out slowly, his cock still hard, and I felt a hot thread of semen running down my thigh to Lucía’s face, which opened her mouth and took it without moving away.

The three of us collapsed. Legs crossed, hands wherever they fell, breathing slow. After a while we started again. I’m not going to tell everything. Some things I prefer to keep for myself.

***

Dawn came before any of the three of us slept. Lucía was in the middle, her head on my shoulder and Sebastián’s hand on her waist. We smelled of sweat, sex, good wine, cheap wine. Nobody said anything.

—Coffee? —I said, after a while.

Lucía let out a low laugh without opening her eyes.

—Coffee —she said—. Coffee again.

Sebastián laughed too. I got up, put on an old T-shirt, and went downstairs barefoot to the kitchen. While the coffee maker started bubbling, I leaned against the counter and looked out the window. It was Sunday. It was almost seven. The sky had that pale pink color that only lasts five minutes.

I thought about how the afternoon before had started. About how clumsy they’d been at the café, enough to make me laugh. About how, in the end, it had had to be me who said the obvious.

I also thought that, probably, it wouldn’t happen again. Or maybe it would. Maybe in a month, or two, one of the three of us would send a message to the group and the other two would answer “yes.” That was a matter for the future.

For now, there was coffee. And two people in my bed. And at last I had been the bridge between two shores that had been asking to meet for a long time.

I went back up with three steaming cups on a tray. Lucía looked at me from the bed, hair mussed, makeup-free, so beautiful it hurt.

—You’re the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time —she said.

Sebastián smiled.

—Me too —I said, setting the tray down.

And I slipped back in between the two of them.