The Afternoon a Bluff Ended in the Best Threesome

I tell this story from the comfortable distance of time. Many years have passed, and it still amuses me how something so innocent could go so badly sideways. We were just over twenty. Marcos and I had been together a little over a year, the kind of relationship where desire fills everything but private spaces are scarce.

Winter was the worst enemy. Without our own place or a car, our intimate afternoons depended on luck and coordination. Luckily, three of Marcos’s friends—Rodrigo, Nico, and Bruno—shared an apartment in the neighborhood, and many weekends we ended up there all five of us, with board games, movies, and some takeaway.

That particular afternoon was freezing. It was just the five of us, which was already unusual. Rodrigo and Nico were nice, funny, although with little success with girls, something that sometimes showed in the way they looked at me. Bruno was quieter, more reserved. I don’t remember ever seeing him with a girl either.

We had dinner early and, when we were done, decided to watch another movie. Among the burnt discs they kept on a shelf there were several unlabeled ones. Rodrigo put one on at random. The first few seconds were enough: a title screen with big letters, the name of the collection, and three seconds of images in which several cocks appeared in extreme close-up, thick, throbbing, some wet with saliva, others spurting onto women’s faces as they took them into open mouths.

Rodrigo stopped the disc at once. But the teasing had already begun.

“Well, well, Rodrigo. What kind of collection do you have here?”

“It’s not mine,” he said, pointing at Bruno. “It’s his.”

Bruno went red in half a second. Nico and Rodrigo took advantage of it to needle him for quite a while: that it was better to have one with girls, what was he doing with that, whether he watched it alone or with company, whether he jerked off thinking about cocks bigger than his own. Marcos gave me a half smile. I tried to act normal, but the truth was those images I’d seen in those three seconds would not leave my head. I could already feel my panties getting wet and my pussy begging for attention.

“Guys, there’s a lady here,” Marcos said.

“It’s fine,” I replied. “I don’t get scandalized that easily.”

And it was true. Although in my head I was already calculating how long it would take us to get out of there so we could be alone, with Marcos fucking me against any wall.

The conversation drifted to the subject of size. Comparisons, made-up statistics, the actors they’d seen on screen during those three seconds. Then Nico turned to me.

“Hey, Sofía. What do you think? Does size matter?”

“I don’t have much to compare it to,” I answered. “I’ve only been with Marcos, and for me he’s very good.”

“See? That’s what everyone says,” Rodrigo said, laughing.

“Want us to put the movie back on so you have more references?” Nico threw in.

“No, thanks. I’m very happy with what I’ve got.”

There was laughter. Marcos squeezed my hand under the blanket the three of us on the sofa were sharing. We had sat that way from the beginning: Marcos on the left, me in the middle, Bruno on my right. Rodrigo and Nico in the two single armchairs. Since it was cold, Marcos, Bruno, and I shared a large blanket; Rodrigo had a small travel one for himself.

In the end, between votes and pressure, we decided to put the disc on. I raised my hand in favor. I’m not entirely sure why. I suppose I was curious, and I knew the ride home would be a lot more interesting if I let myself get worked up.

The first story was a guy and a massage therapist. He lay face down, she started working on his back, and at some point the scene turned toward the predictable. What struck me was not the scene itself, but the size. The masseuse could not do much with that cock in her mouth. Just lick, circle it, try to encompass what there was no way to encompass. She licked from the base to the tip, spat saliva over the head and spread it with her tongue, took his balls into her mouth one by one while she jerked him with both hands. When she finally tried to suck it, only the swollen head would barely fit. She gagged, strings of spit dripped down onto her tits, and still she kept going, as if she had to prove to herself that she could. The camera focused on the masseuse’s pussy, soaked, with the lips open and shining.

Without meaning to, my hand found Marcos’s under the blanket. Then it found something else. He was already hard, outlined under his jeans. He gave me a sidelong glance.

“What are you doing?” he whispered.

“Nothing,” I answered.

I took his hand and guided it between my thighs, to the seam of my pants, where I could already feel the heat. I let him feel how wet I was through the fabric. He held his breath.

No one noticed. Rodrigo and Nico were completely absorbed in the screen, with their hands in their pants without any pretense. Bruno didn’t move either, though I could feel his presence to my right, still, with none of the other two’s comments, his breathing a little heavier than normal.

At one point I got up to go to the bathroom. I took the opportunity to take off my panties. When I looked in the mirror, I saw my flushed face and my nipples outlined under my T-shirt. I slid a finger between the lips of my pussy, just to check, and it came out dripping. I smiled. When I came back, Marcos and Rodrigo had gone to the kitchen to get drinks. When Marcos returned to the sofa, he sat on the end to keep his glass close at hand, and I positioned myself in the middle, next to Nico. As I passed Marcos, I put my panties in his hand. He looked at them for a second, noticed they were wet, and tucked them into his pocket without saying anything, though he swallowed hard.

***

The second story was a threesome in a beach house. More explicit than the first, more dynamic. Two guys and a blonde letting both of them fuck her at once, one in the pussy and one in the mouth, taking turns. At one point they put her on all fours on the edge of a sun lounger and shoved both cocks into her pussy together, forcing her, and she screamed for more. The camera focused on her spread ass, the two heads pressing at once against the same shiny hole slick with fluid.

I had already had Marcos’s hand between my legs for a while, with two fingers sunk into my pussy moving slowly, and he had mine in his lap, his palm closed around his hard cock over the fabric. With no panties on, his fingers went in and out of me without any resistance, with a soft wet sound only I could hear. The situation had a special kind of arousal: our friends less than two meters away, completely focused on the screen, not suspecting that Marcos’s wrist was already getting wet from fingering me so much.

Rodrigo and Nico were making loud comments. Bruno was still quiet, though from the corner of my eye I could see the bulge in his pants, and it was not normal.

“Having one that big must be a pain in the ass,” Rodrigo said. “Girls get scared.”

“Or they love it,” I replied, not thinking too much, squeezing my thighs against Marcos’s hand.

“Would you like that?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t had the chance to find out.”

“And you, Marcos? How are you?”

“Better than you, for sure,” Marcos replied, his fingers still inside me.

Nico burst out laughing. The conversation kept rolling, and at some point someone asked Bruno how he was doing. Bruno, who had not opened his mouth all afternoon, answered briefly:

“No complaints.”

“Yeah? And how good are we talking?” Nico pressed.

“Bigger than those,” Bruno said, pointing at the screen.

Silence.

Rodrigo was the first to laugh. Then Nico. Bruno didn’t flinch. He had the serious face of someone saying something with complete conviction, with no need for anyone to believe him.

“Oh, come on,” Marcos said.

“I’m serious.”

“Braggart.”

“Wanna bet?”

***

The bet took a while to take shape. First it was a joke, then a discussion, then something that somehow became real. Someone brought a tall glass like the ones used in bars. The idea was simple: if Bruno’s cock didn’t fit in the glass, they won; if it did, we won.

What each side was betting was harder to agree on.

Marcos and I slipped into the bathroom while they argued over the terms. As soon as I closed the door, we kissed, tongues all the way in. I leaned against the sink, pulled his pants and boxers down in one tug, and his cock sprang out hard, red, the tip already beaded. I knelt and took it all the way into my mouth without warning, to the throat. Marcos groaned, covering his mouth with his fist. I pulled off, spat saliva over the head, and sank it back in, sucking him hungrily, with both hands squeezing his ass so he’d shove deeper into my mouth. He lifted my T-shirt, pulled one breast out of my bra, and started pinching my nipple. I stood up, turned around, and showed him my wet pussy over the lowered pants. I grabbed his cock and guided it between the lips of my cunt, wetting his head.

“Put it in already, Marcos, please.”

We were about to finish what we had been starting for a while—I braced against the sink, him with the head going in the first centimeter—when someone knocked on the door.

“We’ve got the proposal,” Nico said from the other side.

Marcos growled softly, with his cock still pressed against my pussy. I pushed back once more, just to punish him a little, and straightened my clothes. He had to shove his hard cock upward inside his boxer briefs so he could pull his pants back up.

When we returned to the living room, the bet was clear. If it didn’t fit in the glass: they’d leave us the apartment to ourselves one afternoon a week for a month. If it did: the two of us would touch each other in front of them, without the blanket, without clothes.

Marcos said no way.

I thought about it for two seconds and said yes.

“Are you crazy?” Marcos whispered to me.

“You think it’s that big?”

I didn’t think so. I had seen Bruno all afternoon with his pants on, sitting on the sofa like any normal person. That had to be a bluff.

We agreed on the terms. Bruno standing, pants down, the glass as measure. Rodrigo and Nico as witnesses.

Bruno stood up.

What appeared when he lowered his pants was not what I expected. Still flaccid, it was already a size that made the comparison with the glass seem almost reasonable. It hung heavy, thick, with a huge head even relaxed, and large balls underneath. Bruno took the glass and brought it over. With the cock still soft, it fit. Scraping the sides, but it fit.

“We won!” Marcos said.

“Doesn’t count. It’s still not hard,” Rodrigo replied.

Bruno sat back down, not pulling his pants up. I had Bruno’s flaccid cock thirty centimeters from my thigh and I couldn’t stop stealing glances at it. They put the movie back on. The third story was a woman with several men sitting on a sofa, almost a parody of our own situation. The girl went from one to another, sucking their cocks, and they groped her tits and put fingers in her pussy and ass. I watched the screen but I was thinking about Bruno. About the difference between that flaccid state and what it would be with a full erection. And I could feel it starting to grow beside me, swelling on its own, hardening against his own thigh without him touching it.

Five minutes later, Bruno said he was ready.

He stood up. His cock pointed upward, slightly curved, thick as a wrist, with veins running along the shaft and the head swollen and purple. I opened my mouth without realizing it. He took the glass. There was no need for him to bring it closer to know how this would end. When he pressed the head against the rim, the cock would not pass the mouth of the glass even with pressure. The crystal was covered by the head, with two fingers’ width left on each side.

***

We fulfilled the bet.

I got to my feet to pull my pants down. Marcos did the same, though with less enthusiasm. We covered ourselves as best we could with the blanket, though that wasn’t much. Bruno sat back down on my right, his cock still out, hard, resting against his own stomach.

It was hard not to look.

Marcos slid his fingers into me slowly, calibrating the movements so that from the outside it would look as innocent as possible. Two fingers going in all the way, curling against my spot, pulling out shining with wetness and sinking back in. I grabbed his cock with my hand and started jerking him under the blanket, squeezing hard, twisting my wrist over the head with every stroke. My eyes were locked on the screen, but every so often I turned my head to the right. Bruno was stroking himself slowly, his whole hand wrapping his shaft, moving up and down at an unhurried pace, revealing the shiny head every time the skin slid down. Without taking his eyes off us.

Rodrigo and Nico had turned their armchairs. They had pulled their pants down and were stroking their cocks with no attempt to hide it. They weren’t even pretending to watch the movie anymore.

After a while, Marcos whispered in my ear if I wanted to get on top. I told him no, that I didn’t want them to see us like that. But my body had been waiting too long, and my pussy was dripping down my thigh, and in the end I got on top of him. I did it slowly, grabbing his cock with my hand, positioning the head at my entrance, and letting him fill me centimeter by centimeter, my back straight and trying to hide what was obvious. I felt him forcing his way in, the head slipping in first and then the rest sinking in all at once until he was buried in me completely. A moan escaped me that I couldn’t swallow. It didn’t work. Rodrigo had a perfect view from where he was sitting, he could see Marcos’s cock going in and out of me, shiny, with threads of fluid running down my inner thigh. He jerked faster.

Marcos had both hands on my hips, setting the pace. I could feel myself moving on him, how each descent took me closer to where I wanted to get, how his head touched my deepest point and I pushed my hips to grind myself against his pubic bone. The comments from the three of them around me—dirty talk, gasps, the occasional “like that, shove it all the way in”—didn’t stop me, they did exactly the opposite. I pulled my shirt up to my neck and took my tits out of my bra. I didn’t care anymore. Marcos grabbed them from below and sucked my nipples one by one, biting them, while I kept riding him.

Nico got up from his armchair and sat on the living room table to get a better angle, his cock in his hand, pointing at me. Bruno knelt in the hollow of the sofa I had left free.

When I turned my head, his cock was less than half a meter from my face.

I kept staring. Bruno was stroking himself slowly. At that distance I could see everything in detail: the impossible thickness, the bluish veins, the head narrower than the rest of the shaft, as if his body had saved the most intimidating part for the middle, the thick drop of pre-cum hanging from the tip. It was hypnotic. I tried to pretend I wasn’t looking, but I couldn’t. My pussy clenched on Marcos’s cock every time I looked at it.

“Marcos,” I said softly, without stopping riding him.

“What?”

“I think it fits in my mouth.”

Marcos stopped for a second.

“How?”

“Bruno’s. I think it fits.”

I don’t know whether it was what I said or how I said it, but Marcos shoved harder from below, grabbing my ass with both hands, pinning me against him. Bruno moved closer. I opened my mouth slowly, showing him the space, sticking my tongue out over my lower lip. He took it as an invitation. He brought the tip close enough to brush my lips. I stuck out my tongue and slowly ran it over his head, tasting the salty drop, circling the crown with the tip of my tongue.

Bruno pushed carefully.

I was right: it fit. Tight, strained, my jaw pulling until it hurt, but it fit. The huge head forced its way between my lips, stretching them to the limit, and then the shaft went in little by little, pushing my tongue downward, filling my whole mouth. I couldn’t take more than half of it; the rest I held with both hands, squeezing it and moving it in the rhythm of his thrusts against my face. I could feel him filling my mouth while Marcos kept moving inside me from below, fucking my pussy with short, precise thrusts. They were two completely different sensations and completely simultaneous. With every movement from Marcos, my head pushed slightly toward Bruno, sinking him a little deeper into my throat; with every push from Bruno, the rest of my body answered by clenching around Marcos. Saliva dripped down my chin and wet Bruno’s balls. I sucked, licked, spat, and took him back in. Bruno grabbed the back of my neck with one hand, not forcing it, just guiding me.

“Fuck, look at how she sucks him off,” Nico said from the table, jerking himself faster and faster.

It didn’t last much longer.

Marcos came first. I felt it clearly: the last thrusts shorter, harder, his fingers buried in my flesh, and then the heat spreading inside me, spurt after spurt, while he smothered his moan against my breast. I came at the same time, clenching around him, shaking, with Bruno’s cock still in my mouth stifling my cry. With each final movement, my mouth pressed more over Bruno, until I felt the accelerated pulse of his veins in the palm of my hands, that sudden contraction that announces what’s coming.

I pulled away.

I kept jerking him with both hands, fast, squeezing hard, my mouth open and my tongue out almost by instinct. The first jet came hard, long, and crossed me from the neck to my right breast, hot and thick. The second landed between my breasts. The ones after that dripped over his hand and onto my stomach, until his cock gave its last twitches and was left leaking over my thigh. I had pulled away in time so most of it landed on my chest. Rodrigo finished over his own hand to my left with a long gasp, spreading semen over his stomach. I got up to go to the bathroom, with Marcos’s cock sliding out of my pussy and a thread of semen running down my thigh, and found Nico directly in front of me, pants at his knees and his cock pointing at me, swollen, about to go.

“Don’t even think about it,” I told him.

I tried to go around him. I tripped over my own pants, which I was still wearing around my ankles, and fell backward onto the sofa, on top of Bruno. I felt his cock against my abdomen, hot and still hard, slick with the end of his orgasm. Before I could get up, I felt Nico’s load on my back and ass. Complete. Without remorse. A long streak crossing my kidneys, another falling between my buttocks, sliding down my crack to the pussy already full of Marcos’s semen.

Bruno started shouting at him that he was an animal. Marcos did too. Nico was smiling, cock in hand, still dripping the last drops onto me.

***

I got into the shower. I let the hot water run down my back and ran my hand through my pussy to get out what Marcos had left inside, mixed with my own, and along the crack of my ass to clean away Nico’s trail. When I came out, the four of them were still arguing in the living room. They had pulled their pants back up, at least. Nico was still smiling. The smile vanished when I reminded them they’d lost the bet and were taking far too long to leave.

The three of them left. Bruno was the last to go. He stopped at the door for a moment, looked at me, and said:

“Again.”

Marcos closed the door. He looked at me.

“You’re serious about Bruno?”

“About what?”

“That it fits.”

I shrugged.

“We’ve already checked.”

We didn’t talk about it again that night. But during the following months, the idea came up several times in conversations that started somewhere else and always ended in the same place: Bruno, the bet, the cock that had fit in my mouth and what might have happened if we hadn’t been in such a hurry that afternoon. If Bruno had spread my legs on that sofa and shoved it all the way into my pussy with Marcos watching.

We still haven’t gotten together the three of us. But every time Marcos and I talk about it, the conversation lasts a little longer than the last time. And it always ends with him inside me, whispering in my ear what Bruno would do to me.