My Husband and I Invited the Professor Home

Lucía and I were walking home from the shopping mall, where we had just run into Octavio, the professor who had left his mark on both of us throughout our master's program. The afternoon air smelled of freshly wet asphalt, and neither of us spoke. Five minutes earlier, half joking and half serious, I had told him to come over for dinner on Friday. He had accepted without batting an eye.

—Did you notice the way he looked at you? —I asked, slipping my arm around her waist.

Lucía bit her lip, that thing she did whenever something made her nervous.

—Andrés, are you sure about this? We were his students. Now we're professors ourselves, on top of that. What will he think?

—That we're adults —I said, kissing her temple—. We don't have to tell him anything right away. We'll have dinner, talk about the master's program, and see what happens. If it doesn't flow, it doesn't flow. But you've been whispering in my ear for months that you wanted to know how he kissed, how he was endowed, how he fucked.

It was true. Ever since we opened up our relationship, the conversations in bed had become a map of shared fantasies, and Octavio appeared in them more and more often. That deep voice that had made us doubt even our own names in class. Those small, dark eyes that always seemed to be two steps ahead. More than once, Lucía had confessed to me, panting with my fingers buried in her soaked pussy, that she thought about Octavio's cock when I fucked her.

The week dragged by endlessly. Messages during the day, whispers before sleep, trying on outfits. At eight on Friday, she was wearing a black dress and low heels, I was finishing pouring the wine, and the doorbell rang.

—He's here —she said, taking a deep breath.

Octavio came in with a calm smile, a bottle in his hand and the same woody cologne we remembered from the classroom. He greeted each of us with a long, unhurried hug, and when Lucía offered him her cheek, he looked at her for one second longer than necessary.

Dinner began as it was supposed to: academic conversation, anecdotes, memories of our theses. But the electricity had been there since the first toast. When she leaned over to pour him wine, the back of her hand brushed Octavio's forearm, and neither of them hurried to pull away. I saw it and smiled silently.

—And how did you end up teaching? —Octavio asked, setting down his glass.

—I suppose it's your fault —she replied with half a smile.

His eyes lingered on her lips for a moment too long.

When Lucía got up to take the plates to the kitchen, she walked the way she did when she knew she was being watched: without exaggerating anything, but with her back very straight and her ass outlined beneath the dress. Octavio followed the curve until he realized I had seen him. He lowered his eyes to his plate and laughed at himself.

—Sorry, Andrés. I didn't mean to.

—Don't apologize —I replied, pouring him more wine—. I like people looking at her like that. And I like even more what it's doing to you down there while you look at her.

I held his gaze long enough for him to understand. He blinked, nodded slowly, and adjusted his bulge without pretending it wasn't there. The conversation changed tone almost without anyone deciding it should.

—How was your time in Lisbon? —Lucía asked when she came back and sat down.

—Liberating —he said, and the word hung suspended over the table—. I was with someone who believed desire didn't fit into molds. I learned to fuck without guilt and to look without asking permission. Have you two ever tried anything like that?

Lucía sought me out with her eyes. I stroked her shoulder.

—We've explored, yes —I said—. The subject doesn't scare us. She likes being watched, desired, fucked properly. And I like seeing her enjoy herself.

—I'm intrigued —Octavio replied, leaning forward—. How far?

—As far as she wants —I said—. And tonight it looks like she wants to go far.

Lucía laughed softly, placed her hand on Octavio's thigh over his pants, and squeezed. She felt what was there. She held his gaze.

—Very far —she confirmed.

***

We moved to the couch with the last bottle. Lucía sat between us, already barefoot, her feet tucked up. Octavio rested a hand on her knee as he told an anecdote, and she didn't move it away; instead, she let it travel slowly up the inside of her thigh until her dress bunched at her hip. I stroked the back of her neck with my thumb. When she turned her face toward him, there was no need to say anything else. Octavio kissed her slowly, measuring every movement, and she answered with just the tip of her tongue. Then with more. Then with all of it. I lowered the zipper of her dress and left her shoulders bare.

—Are all three of us on the same page? —he suddenly asked, pulling away by a millimeter. His hand was still on Lucía's hip, and his mouth shone with my wife's saliva.

I liked that he asked.

—Absolutely —I said, kissing Lucía's neck—. Let's keep going. Fuck her however you want. She knows what she likes, and she'll ask you for it.

—I want to see your cock —Lucía said bluntly, undoing his shirt with very slow fingers, as if solving a problem. She kissed his collarbone and bit his pectoral. She lowered the zipper of his pants—. I've been thinking about it for a week.

Octavio closed his eyes when she reached inside, pulled it out, and brought it into the open. It was hard and thick, with a prominent vein and the tip already wet. Lucía stared at it for a second, her mouth slightly open, then let out a low laugh, almost astonished.

—Look at it, Andrés —she said without turning around—. It's beautiful.

—Put it in your mouth —I replied, my voice rougher than I'd expected.

She didn't hesitate. She knelt on the rug between Octavio's spread legs, gripped his cock with both hands, and ran her tongue from his balls to the tip, slowly, watching him. Octavio let out a long moan. Then she took him all the way into her mouth and began sucking him with the technique I knew by heart: going up while squeezing with her lips, coming down while letting her tongue caress the vein underneath, pulling all the way off to lick his balls, then swallowing him again until his eyes watered. He held her hair, not to force her, but to move with her. Lucía moaned while she sucked, her panties already soaked and showing beneath her hiked-up dress.

—You suck him better than you suck me —I said, laughing, and she gave me the middle finger without letting go of his cock.

Octavio bent forward and ran his fingers along her jaw.

—Stop, Lucía, or I'm going to come in your mouth too soon.

She let him slide out with a wet sound, licked her lips, and smiled like a cat.

After a while I moved to the single armchair. I crossed my legs, poured myself another glass, and watched them. Not out of jealousy, but the opposite: because seeing her take what she had been imagining for months was part of my own pleasure. I opened my pants and pulled myself out too, hard for quite some time. I began stroking myself slowly.

Octavio pulled her dress down to her feet. Lucía was left in black lingerie, the set she had put on thinking of exactly this moment. He unclasped her bra and ran his tongue over her nipples, one and then the other, barely biting them until she arched her back. He shoved her gently against the back of the couch, tore off her thong by pulling the elastic, and knelt between her legs.

—You're already soaked —he murmured against her open pussy.

—I have been for a week —she replied, grabbing his hair.

He laughed softly, opened her lips with two fingers, and began licking her clitoris with the same precision with which he dismantled an argument in class. Slow circles, then fast ones, then his whole mouth sucking, then his tongue inside. He slid two fingers into her and curled them, searching for her inner sweet spot without stopping his sucking on her clitoris. Lucía grabbed his hair with both hands, arched her back, and let out a long, high-pitched moan, the kind she made when she was close.

—Like that, like that, don't stop —she begged—. Oh, Octavio, I'm going to come, don't stop.

I squeezed the glass harder than necessary and gripped my cock with my other hand. I watched her come there, with the professor's face buried between her thighs, her legs trembling and her belly contracting in waves. Octavio didn't let her go until she pushed him away by tugging his hair.

—Now you. Sit down —she told him, still panting.

Octavio obeyed. She straddled him, gripped his cock, and positioned it at the entrance to her pussy. She lowered herself slowly, inch by inch, letting him open her up. They both breathed in at the same time when he was buried to the hilt, her tits pressed against his chest.

—Goddamn, you're so big —she murmured against his mouth.

—And you're so tight —he replied.

She began moving with a rhythm that was entirely hers, her hands braced on his chest, her eyes closed. She rose until the tip almost came out, then dropped back down hard, squeezing around his cock, contracting. Octavio held her hips, but he didn't set the pace. I understood immediately: she had taken control, and he, the perceptive professor, had accepted it without argument. He sucked her nipples when she put them in his face, bit her neck, and licked the sweat from the valley between her breasts.

—Tell me you surrender —Lucía whispered, clenching tightly around him.

—I surrender —he answered, his voice breaking—. Fuck me however you want.

She rode him faster and harder, her thighs slapping against his in a wet, rhythmic sound. I was slowly jerking off, watching my wife's ass rise and fall over another cock, watching his appear and disappear, glistening between Lucía's swollen pussy lips. She looked toward me for a second, her eyes glazed, and smiled at me while she fucked Octavio.

—I'm going to come —he announced, squeezing her hips.

—Inside —she ordered without stopping—. Come inside me. I want to feel it.

They finished together, panting, their foreheads pressed against each other and his cum running between her thighs. Lucía turned her face toward me and smiled, disheveled, soaked, and triumphant, her pussy full.

—Come here —she said, holding out her hand—. You too.

I came closer. She bent down from atop Octavio, still impaled on him, and put me in her mouth like that, with the other man's cock still inside her. She sucked me for two minutes, maybe three, until I warned her and came on her tongue. She swallowed it all while looking at me, then kissed Octavio on the mouth, sharing the taste with him.

***

Much later, when the three of us were already in the big bed, Octavio looked at me over Lucía's shoulder. He was caressing one of her buttocks with his open palm, slowly, occasionally running a finger along the cleft of her ass.

—Would you let me have her alone for a while? —he asked, with a frankness that wasn't impertinence. It was a request.

Lucía turned her face toward me, wearing that mischievous smile I knew by heart.

—Go to the guest room, love. Imagine what's going to happen.

I kissed her deeply, touched Octavio's shoulder, and left, closing the door carefully behind me. From the other room, I listened to them. Not everything, but enough. Her riding him again, the creaking of the bed, him asking her to get on all fours, the sharp smack of a hand against a buttock, my wife's “That's it, harder, fuck me harder,” the two of them laughing between moans as if they shared a secret I had only been half invited into. I heard her come twice more before he finished, with a long growl that made her laugh. I fell asleep with one hand on my chest and a smile that wouldn't go away.

***

In the morning, I brought them breakfast in bed. Coffee, fruit, toast. They were covered to the waist, both of them tousled, both laughing at something I hadn't managed to hear.

—Good morning, lovebirds —I said, setting the tray between them.

—You're an unfair host —Octavio replied, grabbing a strawberry—. You spoil us.

Lucía kissed me deeply, with tongue, and thanked me with her eyes. I could still taste him in her mouth. The three of us ate, chatting about anything and everything, as if the night had been dinner between old friends and not what it had been.

When Octavio went into the shower, Lucía looked at me from the bed with a gleam in her eyes I already knew.

—Go on —I said, laughing—. I'll clean this up.

She closed the bathroom door behind her. After a while I heard the water and, above the water, her laughter. Then the dull thuds of a body against the tiles and moans coming through the door.

Afterward she told me, sitting on the edge of the bed with a towel around her hair. He had already been hard when she went in. She sucked him beneath the hot spray, kneeling, while he pressed her head against the shower wall. Then he slowly asked her if she would let him enter her from behind. She said yes, but told him to stretch her slowly because she didn't want to rush. He prepared her with soapy fingers, first one, then two, moving them in circles until she began pushing herself against his hand, while his other hand kept her aroused by rubbing her clitoris. When he turned her against the tiles and placed the tip of his cock at her asshole, he went slowly, inch by inch, and at first she had to grit her teeth and breathe deeply until the head had passed all the way through. After that it was pure pleasure, a different, dense pleasure that rose from her belly. He ran his hand around the front to keep touching her pussy while he fucked her from behind. She finished by pushing herself backward so he would fuck her harder, until they both came beneath the hot spray, him inside her ass and her coming for the third time that morning with two of his fingers inside her pussy and his cock inside her asshole.

—I liked it —she told me, drying her hair in the bedroom—. I liked having him like that, in both holes. But what I liked more was knowing you were outside waiting for me. And tonight it's your turn to do the same to me.

—Deal —I said, biting her damp shoulder.

***

At noon, he took us out for seafood. He asked for a secluded table by the window, overlooking the harbor. It was hot, and the beer bottles were sweating. The ceviche stung like a bite.

—To unforgettable nights —Octavio toasted, raising his beer— and refreshing mornings.

Lucía choked with laughter. I put my hand on her thigh beneath the table and brushed her pussy through her clothes. She closed her eyes for a second.

—Professor, if you keep looking at my wife like that, I'm going to have to pretend to be jealous —I said, feigning solemnity.

—I should have apologized already —he replied, without taking his eyes off her—. But honestly, Andrés, I don't regret a thing. She sucks like a goddess.

—I don't regret it either —she said, wetting her lips with beer—. And he's very big, love. You'll find out.

—Next time, I'll sign up from the beginning —I added, stealing a shrimp from her plate—. Wouldn't want to be left out of the program. And I want to watch you suck him while I fuck you from behind.

—I'll let you know —Lucía said, running a finger around the rim of her glass—. But I promise nothing.

Octavio laughed softly and brushed his knuckles over her hand.

—I'll let her know too —he said—. And I'll bring an appetite.

We ate slowly, with the murmur of the harbor in the background, and the three of us brushed hands several times without hiding it. When the check arrived, Octavio insisted on paying. He said goodbye to us in the parking lot with a long hug for each of us, grabbed Lucía's ass openly over her dress, and squeezed my hand before getting into his car.

—This won't be the last time, right? —he said.

—It won't be —I replied.

***

On the drive home, with the air-conditioning blowing against her still-warm legs, Lucía began to talk. That's what she always did afterward: tell, repeat, and organize what had happened. She told me everything he had whispered in her ear in the shower, how he had asked her permission to fuck her with his mouth pressed to the back of her neck, how he had called her a delicious slut when he had her buried to the hilt in her ass, the playful jealousy he had read on my face during lunch, and how that, without my knowing it, had turned her on again.

—Can you imagine —she said, her hand high on my thigh, squeezing my cock through my pants— if this had happened during the master's program?

—No —I said, laughing—. I can't imagine it.

—I can. Getting a ten from him. Going to his office in a short skirt to “ask him questions” and ending up kneeling beneath his desk, sucking him while a female student came in to ask something. You waiting for me in the hallway, knowing everything. Or the three of us in the empty classroom on a Friday night, the door locked, me leaning back against the blackboard while you two took turns.

I slid my hand up her thigh until I found her pussy, already wet through her panties. We didn't make it to the bed. I parked in the garage, pulled her from the seat, bent her over the still-warm hood, and tore off her underwear. I shoved myself inside her in one thrust, all the way to the hilt, and she let out a scream that bounced off the concrete walls. I fucked her there against the car, with the urgency of someone who had spent twelve hours watching her with another man and still hadn't had his turn. I grabbed her hair, tugged it the way I knew she liked, and whispered in her ear what it felt like to have two cocks in one day.

—Both of them delicious —she panted, pushing herself against me—. But I know yours. Yours knows me.

I came inside her, holding her against the hood with both hands on her hips. Then I scooped her up and carried her to the couch. We spent that afternoon there, going over the entire night again, word for word, moan by moan, with my fingers lazily sliding in and out of her cum-filled pussy while she talked, until the sun went down and we fell asleep with Octavio's promise floating between us.