My Wife Turned the Celebration Into an Orgasmic Orgy

From the very first day I met Mariana, I knew she was going to be a delicious problem. Not just because of her beauty —and she had plenty of it—, but because of something you could see in the way she looked at you, in the way she laughed with her head thrown back, in how she bit her lip when something truly interested her. Mariana was born with an appetite that is never satisfied, and I knew it from the beginning.

She is thirty-two years old, fair-skinned, with brown hair that falls down her back as if it had weight. Her eyes are that kind of brown that looks golden when the light hits them from the side. She has a mouth made for saying things that should not be said, and a body that makes them come true. I’m not going to pretend humility: I married her knowing perfectly well who she was, and who she was included other men before me, during our courtship, and —I say it without shame— probably after as well.

Some people would call that a flaw. I learned to call it something else.

We had been married a little over a month when she called my cell one Friday afternoon.

“Honey, I’m bringing some coworkers home,” she said, with that voice of hers already tinged with alcohol. “We wrapped up the quarterly numbers and got our bonus. We have to celebrate.”

“Bring them over,” I answered, because I already knew her tone and knew it wasn’t a question.

They showed up a little after eight. Four of them: Carla and Lucía, both married, and Hugo and Esteban, also married, though none of them had come with their partner. I knew them all from before, from some dinner or some barbecue. They arrived already well into their cups, laughing about something nobody ever fully explained, with two bottles of pisco under their arms.

“Come in, come in,” I said, opening the dining-room door. “There are snacks.”

Mariana gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and slipped away toward the stairs.

“Give me a minute, guys. I can’t stand this office clothes anymore.”

The five of us sat around the table. I poured the pisco, put out some olives and a little cheese, and let them tell me how they’d closed the quarter. Esteban exaggerated, Hugo corrected him, the two women laughed at both of them. At some point the jokes started getting raunchier, and I noticed Carla and Lucía looking at me in a way that was not entirely innocent. I played along. No big deal.

When Mariana came back down, the conversation stopped dead.

She had put on a white strapless top that barely covered her breasts, with nothing underneath. Denim shorts so short they hardly deserved to be called shorts. Red heeled sandals. Her toenails painted the same red. She paused for a second on the last step, fully aware of the effect she was having, enjoying it.

“Wow, honey,” I said. “You’re good enough to eat.”

“Damn, Mariana,” Esteban blurted, lifting his glass. “My respects. A full goddess.”

“Thank you, Estebancito,” she replied, and sat down beside me with a catlike smile.

“With that body and what you’re wearing,” Hugo said, “you could wake the dead, I swear.”

“Oh, how flirty you boys are,” Mariana laughed.

Carla set her glass down on the table with a sharp clack, pretending to be offended.

“And what about us?” she said. “Of course, since Mariana dresses like that, you don’t see anyone else anymore. Bunch of shameless men. Come on, look at this. Tell me what you think.”

And before anyone could answer, Carla took off her blouse and pants and stood there in bra and thong. Her skin was bronzed, her belly only slightly softened by two pregnancies, her hips wide. She got to her feet and slowly turned, letting herself be looked at.

“Damn, Carla,” I said. “You’re no slouch either, huh.”

“Mmm, yeah, Carlita, you look so damn hot,” Hugo murmured, not even trying to hide it.

“Shit,” Esteban said, shifting in his chair. “Between the two of you, you’re going to kill me. Lucía’s next.”

“Oh, no,” Lucía replied, crossing her arms. “If these crazy women are getting naked, I don’t have to.”

“Take it off, take it off!” we all started chanting, pounding the table.

“Don’t tempt me,” she said, already laughing. “You have no idea what I’m capable of.”

We were all drunk, and the four of them more than me, because they had come straight from a bar after kicking off the celebration. The embarrassment had been gone for a while.

“Lucía,” I said, because I really did want to see her —she has a gorgeous body—, “what’s the problem? We’re all friends here. If you didn’t have what you’ve got, I wouldn’t even ask.”

Lucía looked at me, sighed, and gave in.

“Fine, since you’re asking politely, and not like these two satyrs,” she said, pointing at Hugo and Esteban. “But I warn you, you’re in for a surprise.”

She took off her clothes and was left wearing only her bra. She had nothing else on.

“Here’s the surprise,” she said, spreading her arms. “That’s why I didn’t want to. I don’t wear panties. I like to be comfortable.”

The four of us fell silent for a moment, looking at her. Lucía had very fair skin, a shaved pussy, and a confidence in the way she stood that said this was nowhere near the first time she’d left a room speechless.

“That’s not fair to Lucía,” Mariana said then, getting up. “I’ll take off my shorts so we’re even.”

She unbuttoned her shorts and let them fall. Underneath, she had nothing on. She turned all the way around, slowly, offering herself to our eyes, then faced us again.

“Well then, darlings? Do you like what you see?”

“My God, Mariana,” Hugo said, his voice rough. “Sorry, Diego.”

“Don’t worry,” I replied. “My wife is a monument from every angle. Honey, you’ve got me hard already.”

“Well, to make sure I’m not the exception,” Carla said, “I’m taking off my thong too.”

Carla repeated Mariana’s turn, showing herself completely. Now three women were standing in front of us practically naked, only their bras still on, all three turned on, all three looking at us like we were dessert.

“What an outrage,” Mariana said, planting her hands on her hips. “We’re almost naked and you three are still all covered up. Come on, off with the clothes. We want to see what you’re hiding.”

“Yeah, off with the clothes,” Carla joined in, euphoric. “We want to see who’s got the biggest one.”

“And not just see it,” Lucía added, one eyebrow raised. “Touch it. Do you agree, host?”

The three of them turned to me. I winked at Mariana.

“No problem on my end,” I said. “I don’t think there’ll be any problem with the guys either.”

And there wasn’t. The three of us got to our feet and undressed without anyone needing to insist, until we were completely naked in front of them. The dining room air had turned thick, charged.

“Well, well,” Mariana said, letting her gaze roam. “You boys are packing some very fine pieces. What do you think, girls?”

“My husband doesn’t have one like that,” Lucía admitted shamelessly. “I take my hat off to you.”

“You girls win the grand prize,” Carla laughed.

“In the end, we’re all naked already,” Hugo said, “but you’re still missing something. Off with the bras.”

“Hugo’s right,” my wife said.

Mariana took off her top and her friends took off their bras. Now yes, the six of us were as we came into the world, right there in the middle of the dining room, with half-finished glasses and background music playing for nobody.

“All right, here’s how it is,” Mariana said, taking charge with that easy naturalness of hers. “We’re going to touch them. Boys, against the wall. My husband first, since he’s the host. Hugo, to his left. Esteban, next to Hugo.”

The three of us lined up with our backs to the wall, like three recruits waiting for orders. And the orders came.

Mariana came over to me first. She took me in one hand, squeezed gently, and moved on to the next without delay, like an inspector. She spent longer with Hugo. She grabbed him, moved him slowly, studying him closely.

“Mmm, Hugo,” she said. “What a fine one. And the tip’s already wet. You’re hard, hard. Nice, baby.”

She ran her thumb over the head, caught the drop beading there, and brought the finger to her mouth, looking at me while she did it. Then she moved on to Esteban.

“Estebancito, so thick,” she said. “It looks like a mango. Beautiful too.”

“Come on, girls, don’t be shy,” she called to her friends. “An opportunity like this doesn’t go to waste.”

Carla and Lucía came closer, first one and then the other, running their hands over us. It was obvious all three of them were on edge, that this was no longer a question of whether something would happen, but when. And so were we.

“This isn’t enough,” Esteban said, his voice rough. “We want you to suck us off. Full service.”

“I second the motion,” Hugo said. “Let’s see who’s the most experienced. What do you say, Diego?”

“Totally agree,” I answered. “With the practice they’ve got, this is going to be championship-level.”

The three women looked at each other, that look of “do we or don’t we?” that lasts a second and resolves itself. Mariana, as always, was the one who decided for them all.

“So you’re challenging us, huh?” she said. “Fine. We’ll give you what you want. But in order, since I’m the lady of the house.”

She went to the china cabinet and took out three dice. She dropped them onto the table.

“Each of you roll one. Whoever gets the highest number starts with Esteban, who’s about to explode. She sets the pace and keeps the time. The second one goes with Hugo. The last one with my husband. Then we rotate. If there’s a tie, roll again. Clear?”

They rolled. Lucía got the highest number, Mariana the second, Carla the lowest.

“Perfect,” Mariana said. “Lucía with Esteban, me with Hugo, Carla with my husband. Let’s get to it. No: mouths to work.”

The three of them knelt in front of us at the same time.

I don’t know how to describe what I felt when Carla took me into her mouth. Her lips were hot, her tongue attentive, one hand holding me while the other caressed me. To my left, out of the corner of my eye, I could see Mariana giving herself over to Hugo, devouring him, pulling him out gleaming with saliva only to take him back in whole. Hugo had his eyes shut and his head resting against the wall.

“Oh, Mariana, you do that so well,” he panted. “My God.”

I knew what my wife was capable of. I had lived it so many times. And even so, it thrilled me to watch her do it to another man, there, a meter from me, shameless, getting herself wet all on her own while she did it. Farther over, Lucía was taking care of Esteban with her whole throat, licking him from base to tip, unhurried.

“I’d never tried one this big,” she said between licks. “I love the way it curves.”

After a good while, Lucía gave the order to rotate.

“Change places, girls. Now I’m going with the host. Mariana, you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this. Sorry for the honesty, friend.”

“Relax,” my wife laughed, moving on to Esteban. “That’s what they’re for. Enjoy her.”

And enjoy her she did. Lucía knew what she was doing; you could tell by the skill. Meanwhile, I could hear Esteban talking to me from the other side.

“Diego, bro, your wife sucks like nobody else.”

“Not just that,” I replied, barely able to speak. “The rest of it too — she does it better than anyone.”

They rotated once more. Each woman had her own style, and all of them had merit, but I’m not bragging when I say it: Mariana took home the trophy, and I’m not the only one saying so. Later, when they weren’t listening, both Hugo and Esteban confirmed it to me with laughter and envy.

We kept going until none of the three of us could take any more.

“Girls, none of that dropping it on the floor,” Mariana said without letting go of Esteban. “This gets swallowed. Are we clear?”

Carla and Lucía gave a thumbs-up without stopping what they were doing.

I was the first to go. Mariana’s mouth doesn’t forgive, and Lucía’s doesn’t either. I warned them as soon as I could, gasping, and she didn’t pull away. Afterward she licked her lips while looking me in the eyes, as if to tell me she’d enjoyed it.

Hugo and Esteban followed, in that order, spilling into Carla’s and Mariana’s mouths. Lucía, who had finished with me, coughed a little off to the side, laughing.

“Shit,” she said, wiping the corner of her mouth. “They nearly drowned me. One more second and I’d need mouth-to-mouth.”

We all laughed, exhausted, aroused, with no shame left at all. Mariana stood up, still naked, and looked for me. I knew her. That look was not the look of an ending. It was the look of we’re just getting started.

“Well, guys,” she said, running her tongue over her lips. “That was the appetizer. Who said we were done?”

***

But that second part of the night, the one that came after, deserves to be told separately. And I’m going to tell it.