That Night at the Hotel with His Best Friend

My name is Lorena, and I always thought my sex life was pretty well sorted out. Hernán and I had been married for six years and, aside from the routines any marriage drags along, I lacked for nothing. That’s why, one night, when I saw him staring at the ceiling with that look of wanting to say something and not finding the words, I sat down on the bed, stroked his hair, and asked him what was wrong.

—I have a fantasy —he told me, without turning around—. And I need to tell you before it consumes me.

He was a direct man, so the roundabout way intrigued me.

—Say it.

—I want to see you with Mateo.

Mateo had been his best friend since school. We saw him every two or three weeks, went out to eat the three of us, and sometimes he stayed over on the sofa after a long night. I’m not going to lie: I found him attractive. He had that look of a man who ages well, broad shoulders, big hands, a slow smile that showed up when nobody expected him to answer. More than once I had caught him looking at me in a way my husband pretended not to see. But from there to getting into bed with him was a distance I hadn’t crossed, not even in my head.

—Are you sure of what you’re saying? —I asked, still trying to catch his gaze.

—I thought about it a lot. I know you like each other; I see it when he walks into the house and you make yourself look a little more put together without meaning to. And him, every time we drink beers, he ends up saying at some point in the night that you’ve got a sinful body, that he’s dying to lick your tits and put it in you all the way.

I felt the heat rise to my neck, and to somewhere a lot lower too.

—Tell me you didn’t say anything back.

—I told him he was right. And that I wished one day I’d see him fucking you in front of me.

It took me a while to answer. Not because I was scandalized, but because I was listening to myself inside and discovering that it didn’t disgust me the way I had imagined. Quite the opposite: a warm current ran down my back and settled between my legs, and without realizing it I was squeezing my thighs together under the sheet. I felt my pussy wet, pulsing, as if my body had accepted it before my head had.

—All right —I said, and my voice came out firmer than I expected—. But somewhere neutral. If this goes badly, I don’t want us to be unable to walk through the living room afterward without thinking about it.

—A hotel —he replied—. I’ll take care of it.

That same night, when he turned the light off, he slipped his hand between my legs and found a puddle. No foreplay was needed. He mounted me in silence, drove into me with one thrust, and whispered in my ear as he fucked me. “Think about him, think he’s Mateo putting it in you.” I came in less than five minutes, biting his shoulder so as not to wake the neighbors.

***

Three weeks later I was standing in front of the bathroom mirror in black underwear, trying to remember how a woman who’s about to sleep with two men at once puts on makeup. That same morning I’d shaved everything smooth —the pussy slick, the lips pink and clean, a black thong that barely covered the slit—, I’d put on the only lingerie worth showing and a wrap dress that tied at the front and came undone with one pull. Hernán appeared behind me, kissed my shoulder, and looked at me over my reflection.

—If you want to back out, you still have time.

—I don’t want to back out.

The hotel was near downtown, one of those discreet places that charges by the hour and doesn’t ask too many questions. We went up in the elevator without saying a word. I could feel my own breathing, the brush of the dress against nipples already hard, the soaked thong clinging to the lips of my pussy. When Hernán knocked on room 412, Mateo opened on the second try, dressed in jeans and a shirt open at the top button. He smelled of fresh cologne, and from the way his jeans pulled, it was obvious he was already half hard.

—Come in —he said, and when he took my hand to let me in, my knee trembled a little.

The room had a wide bed, a single armchair by the window, and a warm light that left everything in a conspiratorial dimness. Hernán walked straight to the armchair, dragged it a couple of inches to get a better angle, and sat down. He made no speech. He only lifted his chin toward his friend and said:

—Here’s my wife. Fuck her however you want. And don’t ask me permission for anything.

Mateo looked at me as if seeing me for the first time.

—Come here —he murmured.

I took the two steps that separated us with a slowness that wasn’t mine. He cupped my face with both hands and kissed me. And then I understood there was no turning back, because his mouth had nothing timid about it. It was the kiss of someone who had been rehearsing it in his head for months, maybe years. He shoved his tongue deep inside, sucked my lips, bit my lower one until I moaned into his mouth. He pulled me against his body and I felt the rock-hard bulge pressed to my stomach. He found the tie of my dress and, with one tug, let it fall to the floor. I was left in lingerie in front of him, in front of my husband, in front of a wall mirror that reflected the whole scene back.

—God —he said, and the whisper cracked—. You look like you’re good for fucking for a whole week straight.

He slid my bra down without unfastening it, lowered it to my waist, and bent to suck one nipple while he kneaded the other breast with his hand. He bit it, licked it, pressed it between his teeth until a moan slipped out of me. Then he switched to the other and did the same, unhurried, until both nipples were swollen and shining with saliva. I grabbed his head, ran my fingers through his hair, heard from the armchair Hernán’s deep sigh and the sound of his belt loosening.

—He’s enjoying this —Mateo said softly, without lifting his mouth from my skin—. Look at him jerking himself off too.

I turned my face just enough. Hernán had taken out his cock and was stroking it slowly, his eyes nailed to me, to his friend’s mouth latched onto my tit. That, more than anything else, finally undid me. A thread of wetness slid down my thigh.

Mateo knelt to pull my thong down. When he took it off completely, he brought it to his face and inhaled.

—She’s dripping, man —he told Hernán without looking at him—. Your wife’s dripping for me.

He gently pushed me toward the bed. He spread my legs wide open, looked at my shaved pussy for a few seconds without touching it, as if deciding where to begin. Then he lowered his head and ran his tongue over me from bottom to top, slowly, like someone savoring something they’d been waiting for a long time. I moaned louder than I expected and grabbed his head with both hands.

He ate my pussy as if it were the only thing in the world. He licked my lips one by one, slid his tongue inside me, pulled it out, and focused on my clit with a persistence that made my back arch against the mattress. He sucked, he blew, then sucked again. He slipped in two fingers and started moving them upward, searching for a spot that Hernán took forever to find and that he found right away. In less than three minutes I was already screaming, pushing his face against my pussy, coming in his mouth with my legs shaking.

—Good girl —he murmured against my lower lips—. You’re going to come many more times tonight.

From the armchair I heard Hernán masturbating faster, with that breathing I knew so well.

***

—Don’t make me wait any longer —I begged him, and I barely recognized my own voice—. Put it in already.

Mateo undressed quickly. He had the body of a man who trained without obsession and took enough care of himself. When he pulled down his boxers, his cock popped out in one go: thick, veined, the tip red and already wet. It wasn’t unusually long, but it had a thickness that made me swallow. He took it in his hand and jerked it in front of me.

—Suck me first —he said—. I want to see the wife of my best friend take my cock in her mouth.

I knelt at the edge of the bed. I took him with both hands, brought him to my mouth, and ran my tongue all along his length, from the balls to the tip. Then I took him in. I took him all the way in, until he hit the back of my throat and made me tear up. Mateo held my nape and started rocking my face against his dick in a slow rhythm. I sucked him, licked his balls, ran my tongue over the tip and swallowed him again. Saliva dripped from my chin and spilled between my tits.

—Look at your husband —he ordered, grabbing my hair and turning my face.

I looked. Hernán had taken his pants off completely, his cock was rock hard in his hand, and he never took his eyes off me. A thread of pre-cum escaped from him.

—Keep going —he said hoarsely—. Suck him well, love.

I swallowed him again with more hunger. Mateo started pushing against my face harder, fucking my mouth without mercy. When he felt himself getting close, he yanked his cock out.

—No, no, no. Not yet. I still have to wreck your pussy.

He laid me on my back and dragged me to the edge of the bed. He settled between my thighs, ran the tip up and down for a few seconds, rubbing my pussy lips, looking me in the eyes, until he pushed in.

The first inch tore a moan out of me that didn’t sound like mine. The second made my back arch. When he was all the way inside, I dug my nails into his shoulders and turned my face toward the armchair, searching for Hernán with my eyes. He had his cock in his hand and his eyes fixed on the exact point where another dick was entering his wife, and for a second the three of us held there, connected by something that could no longer be undone.

—She’s so tight —Mateo panted toward my husband—. Brother, you’ve got a gold pussy at home.

—Break her —Hernán answered, and there wasn’t a tremor in his voice—. Fuck her for both of us.

Mateo moved with a control I hadn’t expected. It wasn’t the urgency of someone new to it: it was the calm of someone who knew he had all night. He went in to the hilt, made me feel the tip hitting my belly from inside, and held there for a moment before pulling back almost all the way. With every thrust I felt my brain shutting off little by little. The slapping of my soaked pussy against his hips filled the room.

—Please —I finally begged—. Harder. Fuck me harder.

He grabbed my thighs, opened them until they almost hurt, pushed himself up onto his knees, and started pounding me with a brutal rhythm. The bed creaked, the headboard hit the wall, my tits bounced up and down, and I moaned things that never quite became words. He grabbed my wrists and pinned them to the mattress while he destroyed me with his cock. I felt another orgasm coming and screamed, squeezing his dick with my pussy until he growled.

—Oh, she’s coming again —he panted—. She’s coming on my cock, brother, look at her.

He pulled out all at once, grabbed me by the waist, and flipped me over without warning.

—From behind —he ordered—. Ass up high. I want to see you like that.

I propped myself on my knees and palms. I arched, stuck my ass out, and offered him my open, dripping pussy. Mateo took two seconds to look at me, and I heard him spit right on my slit before he slid back in. At that moment Hernán got up from the armchair, took off his shirt, and came to the bed, his cock pointing at my face. I was left with my mouth at the level of his open fly. He took my chin, made me look at him, and with a tenderness that didn’t fit the situation, he said:

—I love you, Lorena. More than ever.

I was going to answer him something, but Mateo chose that second to slam back in, and all that came out of me was a muffled cry against my husband’s cock, which I used that open mouth for to take him all the way in.

***

What followed I’m not able to reconstruct in order. I know I ended up speared between the two of them, Mateo’s cock fucking me from behind and Hernán’s pushing into my mouth, and that each thrust from one threw me against the other. I know I felt my husband’s cock growing in my throat, and his friend’s opening my pussy until I saw lights. I know I came twice like that, unable to scream because my mouth was occupied, and that Hernán looked down at me with a mix of love and heat I had never seen in him.

I know that at one point Mateo pulled out, and Hernán went around the bed and stood behind me. I heard him tell his friend, “Now suck the cock that fucked my wife,” and I felt Mateo take Hernán’s dick into his mouth just so I’d see it. Then my husband drove it into me, into the same pussy his best friend had just stretched open. He shoved it all the way to the balls and I screamed from sheer pleasure. Mateo stood in front of me and put his into my mouth, and I sucked him with hunger, tasting the sour flavor of my own pussy on his tip.

I know Mateo ended up behind me again. He fucked me from the back for a good while, holding me by the hips with his fingers buried in my flesh, while I clenched the sheet with both hands. I know that when he came inside me, he screamed as loudly as I did, and I felt the hot stream filling me from within, then running down my thighs. I know Hernán, without giving me time to breathe, took his place, and slid in through Mateo’s semen, fucking me in the same position, burying himself in his friend’s cum. He finished by pressing me against him, biting my shoulder, spilling inside me too, while I squeezed my eyelids shut so hard I saw lights.

I also know that night we did it again. After a quick shower and a bottle of water, Mateo laid me on my back and ate my pussy mixed with both loads until I came again, and then Hernán drove into me from the side while Mateo sucked my tits. Once more each, then both of them again in order, me in the middle of it all, the two cocks taking turns in my mouth and my pussy, setting off orgasms I hadn’t let myself have in years. I ended up on my back, legs open, my pussy swollen and dripping from the two mixed loads, and the two men lying beside me with no strength left even to talk.

When we got home, well into the early hours of the morning, neither of them spoke for a while. Hernán took my hand in the car, kissed it, and told me:

—Thank you.

I didn’t answer. There was no need. My pussy was still throbbing and my panties were soaked with both of them.

***

What came after wasn’t part of the plan.

A month passed and my period didn’t come. Two more weeks passed and it still hadn’t come. When I took the test, I sat on the toilet and stared at the two lines as if they were a math result that didn’t make sense to me.

—Hernán —I called.

When I showed him the stick, he first opened his eyes wide, then hugged me and started crying. He’d wanted to be a father for a while. So had I. It was just that, once I did the math, the dates matched exactly the night at the hotel. And while he held me tight against his chest, I was already counting backward and cursing myself for not being more careful that time two cocks had left all their load inside me.

—It may not be yours —I told him very softly, because I didn’t dare say it any louder.

He pulled back a step, looked at me, and took my face in both hands.

—Look at me, love. That child is going to be mine. Whatever blood it carries, it’s going to be mine. And that’s the end of the conversation.

***

Mateo found out a month later, when I was already showing. He came over for dinner, we told him the news as one announces any happy event, and he did what he had to do: he congratulated us, hugged Hernán, kissed me on the cheek. But after a while, while I was clearing the dishes, I heard him clear his throat.

—Brother —he said to my husband in a low voice—, how far along is she?

—The same number of weeks you’re counting —Hernán answered.

There was a long silence. I stood frozen in the kitchen doorway, not knowing whether to go in or disappear.

—Could it be mine?

—Yes, it could.

Mateo ran a hand over his face. When he lowered it, his eyes were shining.

—The last thing I want is to be a problem for you guys —he said—. I’m only asking one thing. Let me stay close. Not as a father, not as anything weird. Just close.

Hernán stood up, put a hand on his shoulder, and I understood, without anyone having to explain it to me, that we were entering terrain for which no manual existed.

***

The months that followed were the strangest and happiest of my life. Mateo started coming over every day after work. He brought a bag of clothes, then two. One afternoon I found him and Hernán assembling the crib, both of them drinking beer and arguing over which screw went in which hole. Another afternoon, with my belly already fully round, they laid me between them on the bed and took turns eating my pussy until I came with one man’s face buried in my cunt and the other man’s mouth tugging at my swollen nipples.

Because yes: we kept fucking, the three of us. I’m not going to lie about that either. My body, flooded with hormones, had an appetite that two hands alone couldn’t calm. I needed cocks, I needed tongues, I needed to be full. Mateo would fuck me from behind, slowly, with my belly resting off to the side, while Hernán kissed me and gave me his cock to suck. Other times it was Hernán mounting me, and Mateo working my clit with his tongue from below. It always ended with both loads on me or inside me, exhausted, happy, pampered. And they, each in his own way, took care of me even when they were fucking me. There wasn’t a single night when I felt uncomfortable. I had two husbands, and I let myself be loved.

***

The day Joaquín was born, the two of them were in the clinic hallway. The doctor came out, said “congratulations” in the plural, and neither of them found it strange. Luckily, my son didn’t look like either of them: he had my eyes, my mouth, a nose that couldn’t make up its mind. When we took him home, the room was full of flowers. They had bought them together.

—Do you want us to do the DNA test? —I asked them a few days later, while I was breastfeeding him.

They both went quiet.

—I don’t want to know —Mateo said after a while—. To be honest, I don’t want to be disappointed.

—He’s right —said Hernán—. Let’s leave it at that.

And that’s how it stayed.

***

Mateo lived with us for three years. Then he fell in love with a beautiful woman and moved a few blocks away, but he never really left. Joaquín calls him by his name, not dad, but on weekends he stays over at his place with the natural ease of someone going to an uncle’s house. Hernán and he are still best friends. Sometimes I watch them drinking coffee in the garden and wonder how the hell we ended up like this.

Many years have passed since that first night at the hotel, and I still can’t quite believe that such a simple fantasy gave rise to a family. But it did. And I’d do it all again, without changing a single comma.