My First Threesome Was My Idea, Not My Husband’s

It all started the night we met Damián. We were coming off an experience with another couple, the first one my husband and I had dared to try after months of turning it over in our minds, of half-whispered conversations in the dark of the bedroom in which we confessed things we had never dared say out loud. When we got home our bodies were still lit up, so the three of us sat on the edge of the bed to go over what had happened, still breathless.

Damián was the quietest of the three that night. He had a way of looking that seemed to ask permission for everything, and over the years I had learned that that kind of man often hides the most interesting desires. It took me only a moment to sense that behind his shyness there was a curiosity he didn’t even dare name himself.

“Haven’t you ever felt like trying a man?” I asked Damián, almost without thinking.

He laughed, embarrassed. He confessed that he had never done it with another man, that the idea didn’t bother him, but that what really drove him crazy was being inside me.

“That’s easy to fix,” I said, and leaned down to unbutton his pants.

I sucked him slowly, looking him in the eyes, until he was hard and throbbing against my tongue. Then I climbed on top of him. Marcos, my husband, came up from the side and put his cock between our mouths, and the two of us took turns for a good while, licking him, playing, laughing between kisses.

Damián fucked me from behind while I kept Marcos in my mouth.

“I like this more than just fucking you,” Damián murmured, grabbing my hips. “Having both of you at once.”

And I liked it even more than he did. Feeling full, completely occupied, with one man in front and another behind, was a sensation I hadn’t realized I needed until that very night. But while I moved, while pleasure kept building, a different idea stuck itself in my head and wouldn’t let go: I want to see my husband in the place I’m in now.

With that thought I came hard, biting my lip so I wouldn’t scream. Shortly after, I felt the two of them finish almost at the same time.

***

Once we’d recovered, the three of us sprawled on the bed sharing water and talking over the whole thing, and I brought up my idea again. It wasn’t a whim. I’d been fantasizing about it for weeks.

“I want to see Marcos underneath,” I said bluntly. “I want to see how much he enjoys it.”

My husband looked startled, but he didn’t say no. Damián, on the other hand, had another idea.

“What if I introduce you to a friend?” he suggested. “He’s younger, almost no experience. Every time he sees me he asks if I know any discreet girl, one who doesn’t mind doing it with her husband watching.”

“Look at Damián,” I said, laughing. “You’re the second person to suggest the same thing to me this month.”

Marcos’s reaction surprised me. Instead of getting uncomfortable at the idea of a friend, his eyes lit up.

“I’d like that,” he admitted. “Seeing you with another man, someone new.”

“All right,” I told him, “but first we do our thing. You and me and Damián. And don’t tell me no, because when I suck you and put a finger in your ass you shiver all over. And when you fuck me and I do the same to you, you don’t say no then either. Look at how worked up you’re getting just talking about it.”

Marcos lowered his gaze, blushing.

“You’re right,” he murmured. “But another day. Not today.”

“Damián, what do you think?”

“I can’t refuse your proposal,” he answered, looking at me with a crooked smile. “You’re far too charming a woman for me to say no to you.”

***

The day I had dreamed of arrived a couple of weeks later, much to my husband’s reluctance. Damián came to our house at the agreed time with a bottle of cava under his arm. I got out three glasses and we toasted the occasion, even though Marcos’s hand was trembling a little.

“Shouldn’t we drink after?” he asked. “Just in case it goes badly.”

“Before and after,” I replied, and gave him a long kiss to calm him down.

We went to the bedroom and undressed unhurriedly. The bedside lamp was low and warm, and the air smelled of the cava we’d left half-finished in the living room. We started with caresses, the three of us running our hands over one another, our mouths seeking each other out in the dim light. I placed myself in the middle on purpose, to feel them both at the same time, to wipe away my husband’s unease at the root with pleasure.

I could feel Marcos relaxing little by little under my hands. The stiffness in his shoulders loosened, his breathing deepened. When I saw the two of them fully erect I knew they were ready.

I got into missionary position with my legs open, and Marcos settled on top of me. Before he went in, he looked me in the eyes.

“I hope you don’t regret this,” he said.

“I won’t regret it,” I answered, and kissed him.

Damián positioned himself behind him. He slipped a finger into him slowly while wetting him with his tongue. I had a tube of lubricant under the pillow, where I always keep it, and passed it to him. He smeared his cock well, especially the head, and then I myself opened my husband’s ass cheeks so Damián could rest the tip right at the entrance.

“Very slowly,” I told Damián.

He entered little by little. When he was in up to the first part, I asked Marcos if it hurt.

“Not for now,” he said, though he was red as a tomato.

I kissed him passionately to distract him.

“Don’t move,” I told him. “And you, Damián, do it very slowly and stop when he tells you to.”

“Now it hurts a little,” Marcos warned after a moment.

“Marcos, listen to me,” I said, holding his face between my hands. “Do as if you wanted to push outward, relax. And you, Damián, take advantage of that moment to go in a little farther. When he complains, stop.”

I knew how it worked because it had been done to me many times. That’s why I was the one who directed the whole situation, setting the pace, telling each of them what to do and when.

“I think I’ve got quite a bit of her inside me,” my husband panted.

“Damián, stay still,” I ordered. “Marcos, now you fuck yourself all the way in, at your own pace.”

And that’s how it went. With every movement my husband made backward, Damián went in deeper, and since everything was well lubricated, the pain at the beginning transformed into something else. Marcos started to sigh. First softly, then with less shame, until the three of us found a shared rhythm and fit together as if we’d done it a thousand times.

Watching my husband like that, surrendered, eyes closed and mouth slightly open, was more exciting than I had imagined in all my fantasies. I had him inside me and he had Damián inside him, and that chain of connected bodies seemed to me the most intimate thing in the world.

Damián was the first to come. Then I did, feeling Marcos tremble on top of me. And my husband was the last, with a long moan I had never heard from him before.

“Don’t take it out yet,” he asked Damián when he finished.

Damián stayed still a while longer, wrapped around his back, until little by little he came out slowly.

***

The three of us stayed stretched out there, sweaty, silent for a long while. Only the ceiling fan could be heard, and our breathing, still ragged, trying to return to normal. I had my head resting on my husband’s chest and felt his heart beating fast beneath my cheek, like someone who has just crossed a border and doesn’t regret it. He was the one who broke the silence.

“Now I understand,” he said, still hoarse. “Now I understand why you like it so much when I fuck you from behind.”

I laughed and hugged him. Damián watched us from the other side of the bed with a satisfied smile, like someone who has just discovered something new about himself.

“And what do we do about your friend?” I asked Marcos, teasing. “Is the new guy still on the table?”

“I’m keeping it very much in mind,” he answered, surprising me again. “But we’ve got time to enjoy all this calmly.”

I liked that answer. I liked that it was no longer just my idea, that now the two of us wanted the same thing.

“Let’s take a break,” I suggested. “Next month we pick it up again. No pressure.”

Because what I like most, what gives me the most pleasure, is precisely this: not having a written ending, knowing there is always one more door to open and that we’re going to cross it together, at our own pace. That night the three of us fell asleep in the same bed, and for the first time in a long while I felt that we were not missing a single thing.