The Card Game with My Husband and My Colleague

Few things changed after that winter. Our life as a couple carried on as always, calm and complicit, and nothing soured with Adrián either. At the office we treated each other exactly as before, even when, without meaning to, we found ourselves alone together in the meeting room or by the coffee machine. We never mentioned what had happened again. It was as if we had signed a silence pact without ever negotiating it.

I understood it as part of the agreement he had reached with my husband that time. But I never forgot that day. In fact, more than once it came back to me in my private moments, a recurring image that sped up my pulse and left me with soaked panties and two fingers buried in my cunt. And for something Adrián let slip then, I’m convinced he went through the same thing, that more than one night he’d jerked off thinking of me.

It was well into spring when the ghost of that encounter hovered over our bed again. It must have been around four in the morning on a Saturday. I’d woken from a strange dream, something about salt water and sand, with a dry throat and my cunt so hot I could feel the throbbing between my thighs. I went down to the kitchen, drank a glass of juice, and slipped back naked between the sheets.

Bruno was sleeping face down, peaceful. I took his sleeping hand and guided it between my legs, rubbing his fingers over my already wet lips, pushing his index and middle fingers into my cunt until they sank in to the knuckles. I ground myself against his palm, searching for my clit, until I felt his cock getting hard against my hip and he slowly came out of the haze of sleep. He rolled over, found my mouth, sucked my nipples one by one until they were hard as stones, and fucked me from behind, spooning me, squeezing one breast with one hand and toying with my cunt with the other. And that was when, with him already wrapped around my back and thrusting into me with slow, deep strokes, what neither of us dared say out loud finally came to light.

—Would you like us to invite Adrián to dinner some day? —he whispered in my ear, between slow thrusts, while he pinched my nipple.

The question threw me off. I don’t know what surprised me more, whether that we were both thinking the same thing by chance or that he’d dared to say it. My cunt clenched around his cock when I heard it, and he felt it, because he groaned softly against my nape.

—And you? —I answered, tossing it back at him while I controlled the sway of my hips so he wouldn’t slip out of me, tightening around him every time he pushed in.

—Yeah. If you want to, I do too —he replied, not committing any more than necessary, fucking me harder all of a sudden.

—Just for dinner? —I shot back, with the wickedness my arousal lent me, reaching for his hand and guiding it back to my clit.

—Well. After that we could play something, if you’re up for it —he murmured, his voice broken, driving all the way into me.

And that was the end of the conversation, swept away by the surge of an orgasm that caught us both at once, with him coming inside me in hot spurts and me biting the pillow so I wouldn’t wake anyone. Unfinished, but not vague.

***

The following Friday, as we said goodbye in the company parking lot, I asked Adrián whether he’d like to share a table that night at our place. He went red to the ears, but he said yes. I told Bruno over lunch, with plenty of time to cancel any plan, of course. He had some doubts, but he never actually said no. The biggest objection he raised was about the menu, or rather the lack of one. Nothing we couldn’t solve with a couple of pizzas and a pack of beers.

Around seven, the parade of showers and wardrobes began. We both dressed comfortably, neither too formal nor too much like homebodies. A polo shirt and bermuda shorts for him. A tank top and calf-length leggings for me. Underneath, though, I was more careful. I chose a beautiful white lingerie set, with a thong whose front was sheer enough to make it obvious I was completely shaved without needing to take it off. And nothing else. Whatever happened, someone was going to enjoy it that night.

Dinner went on normally. As the minutes passed, the three of us loosened up. We talked mostly about the office, its messes and its incompetence, a subject Bruno knew perfectly well, so he was never left out of the conversation. When we finished, the three of us cleared up together and, once in the kitchen, my husband invited us into the living room while he fixed us drinks. Malibu with pineapple for me, a stronger mixed drink for the two of them, and a bowl of popcorn to go with the stories.

That was when, with the glasses now only filled with melted ice water, I leapt into the void.

—Do you feel like playing something? —I asked, throwing Bruno a challenging look, trying to gauge how far he wanted to go, if there was still any road left to travel by then.

His answer surprised me in a good way. He stood up, rummaged through the cabinet drawers until he found a deck of cards, and set it on the coffee table.

—Do you know the high card? —he asked. —It’s very simple, just in case. We play high card. The one who wins is the mother, the one who draws the lowest loses a garment. The mother can order either of the other two around. And if two or three cards are the same, we all lose a garment. Okay?

—Fine by me —I replied, not caring in the least what format he chose.

—Me too —Adrián repeated, like a nervous echo.

—All right, then —Bruno went on with the rules—. You can’t order anything that involves taking off clothes.

—And how long do the orders last? —Adrián asked, to both our surprise, as if he’d suddenly become aware of the true intentions behind the whole performance.

—The sum of the cards on the table. Is that okay?

—That seems short to me —I objected with a smile.

—Fine —my husband huffed, going back to the cabinet and taking a die—. The sum of the cards multiplied by the die roll. Better?

—Uh-huh —Adrián and I nodded at the same time.

***

If there’s one thing that characterizes Bruno, it’s the incredible bad luck he always has with cards. Especially when I’m the one sitting across from him. I think it took barely seven hands for him to end up completely naked, his cock already half-hard resting against his thigh, though maybe this time he didn’t think that was such a bad thing. For my part, I had only lost my pants, which was no small thing, and Adrián had lost his T-shirt. The orders, still timid and limited by clothing, had been heating the atmosphere.

Even more so after the next play, in which I drew the lowest card, leaving Adrián in his underwear and finally giving my husband the command.

—Well? What’s it going to be? —I asked, affecting a lofty voice like a butler.

Bruno looked at us smiling. He rolled the die, added and multiplied. Forty-five seconds. Better than nothing.

—Vera, I want you to take Adrián’s underwear off with your teeth —he decreed.

And since I had to obey, I decided to do it while adding a little more salt to the scene. I advanced on all fours toward Adrián, wiggling my ass for my husband so he could clearly see the dampness showing through my thong, and licked my lips. Adrián shifted in the armchair to make my task easier. Once I reached him, I took hold of his hip and carefully bit the elastic waistband.

—No hands —I heard from behind me.

—Okay —I said—. No hands it is.

I pulled hard and lowered the front until it caught on the tip of an erection that was more than obvious. I searched the sides, the back, tried the same thing all over, but it was useless. Adrián was still wearing his underwear because his own arousal kept it from sliding off.

—I have a problem —I told Bruno, looking at him with a fake sorrowful face—. His cock doesn’t want me to take them off.

I knew perfectly well how much that kind of language turned him on in private. I can only imagine what it must have been like for him to hear it under those circumstances, seeing how hard he was getting too between his legs.

—All right —he said, visibly red from the heat—. I’ll let you use one hand, but only for a second.

I wrapped my fingers around Adrián’s shaft. I’d missed that touch, that heat, that thick hardness burning my palm. I squeezed him gently, slid my fist up and down once, twice, feeling him pulse, feeling a clear drop escape from the tip. I slowly pulled at the front and finally freed the garment, letting his swollen, shiny glans brush my cheek, leaving a wet trail on my skin. I wriggled a little, stuck out my tongue without being able to stop myself, and licked the tip for barely a second, tasting the salt of his pre-cum. A low, rough sigh escaped my partner’s mouth. But the time was up and now the two of them were completely naked in the living room of my house, their cocks hard and pointing at the ceiling.

***

That, really, had only been the warm-up. We dealt again, and this time luck smiled on me: I drew the highest card and became the mother. I rolled the die calmly, did the math, and looked at the two naked men waiting in front of me, seated on the sofa, with their cocks erect and not knowing what to do with their hands.

—Adrián —I said, savoring every syllable—, I want you to get down on your knees in front of me and eat my cunt until I tell you to stop.

He did it without protesting. I pulled my white thong down to my ankles and kicked it aside, revealing my shaved cunt, shiny and open from the night’s accumulated excitement. Adrián licked his lips before coming closer, as if he’d been waiting for that moment for months. I held his head and pulled him toward me, rubbing his face against my wet lips before letting him get to work.

—Lick me properly —I whispered—. Like it’s the only thing that matters to you.

His tongue moved slowly, with an almost reverent attention. He started on the outer lips, licking them from top to bottom, parting them with the tip of his tongue, then sinking inside and fucking me with his tongue. When he finally reached my clit, he circled it first with slow loops and then trapped it between his lips and sucked it slowly, with a steady suction that arched my back. He slid two fingers inside me and curved them, searching for that spot that makes me lose my mind, while he kept sucking on my little button. I looked for my husband with my eyes. Bruno was wanking himself slowly, moving his fist up and down his hard cock, biting his lip, not missing a single detail, and that image liked me more than I expected: him watching my cunt being eaten, Adrián on his knees devouring me, me in command of them both.

—Don’t stop —I ordered Adrián when he tried to take a breath—. Not yet. Suck harder, you bastard.

The clock on the order was working in my favor. I leaned my back against the sofa, opened my legs a little wider and mounted his face shamelessly, rubbing myself against his mouth, against his nose, against his chin wet with my juices. I let the tension of the whole night concentrate into a single point. When it hit, I bit my lip so I wouldn’t scream too loudly and drove my fingers into Adrián’s hair until the last tremor ran through me, smearing his entire face while he kept licking every spasm.

—Now you —I told Bruno, still short of breath—. Come here. I want your cock in my mouth.

The cards, the die and the garments were left forgotten on the table. The rules were no longer needed. I pulled my husband toward the sofa and knelt too, beside Adrián, my face still damp from my own orgasm. I took Bruno’s cock with both hands and put it in my mouth all the way, until I felt the glans hit the back of my throat. I kissed him as I hadn’t kissed him in months, but with his shaft in my mouth, sucking, licking the tip, spitting saliva down the length so it would slide more easily between my lips. I glanced sideways at Adrián and no words were needed. I let go of Bruno’s cock for a second and offered it, pushing Adrián’s head with my free hand.

—You too —I told him—. Suck me both of you at the same time.

I saw them look at each other, hesitate for a moment, but arousal won out. Adrián licked one side of the shaft while I licked the other, our tongues meeting at the tip, playing with my husband’s glans between the two mouths. Bruno let out a guttural groan I had never heard from him before. I sucked his balls while Adrián took him all the way in, then we switched, taking turns, leaving his cock shiny with saliva.

Behind me, at some point, Adrián dropped to his knees and ran his mouth down my back, tracing my spine until I felt his tongue between my ass cheeks and then lower, sinking once more into my cunt from behind. Having both of them at once, feeling two pairs of hands claiming me at the same time, two mouths, two cocks, was exactly what I’d been imagining for weeks in my private moments while I shoved my fingers deep inside myself.

I straddled Bruno facing him so I could see his expression when he entered me. I impaled myself slowly on his cock, feeling myself open centimeter by centimeter until I sat down on all of it. I began moving in circles, rubbing myself, and he sucked my tits, biting my nipples, while squeezing my ass and spreading me open. Adrián waited his turn with a patience I appreciated, stroking my hips, spitting between my ass cheeks to lubricate me, until I guided him myself by leaning on my husband’s chest and offering him my ass.

—Put it in there —I whispered over my shoulder—. Slowly at first.

I felt the pressure of his glans against my asshole, the resistance, and then how it yielded and went in, a centimeter, two, until he was buried all the way. I screamed against Bruno’s neck when I felt myself filled in both holes at once, with my husband’s cock inside my cunt and Adrián’s in my ass, separated only by a thin wall of flesh trembling with every movement.

What came next had nothing to do with a board game. It was slow at first and then it wasn’t. My husband held my waist and pumped upward, Adrián set the rhythm from behind, grabbing my hair, slapping my ass every few thrusts, and I only had to let myself be carried between the two of them, trading kisses, gasps, hot insults and orders that no one bothered to follow to the letter anymore. They fucked me from both sides at once, coordinating without speaking, one pulling out while the other went in, pounding me until I lost count of the orgasms that piled up one after another.

—I’m about to come —Bruno growled beneath me.

—Me too —Adrián panted.

—On my face —I asked, getting off them—. Come both of you on my face.

I knelt between their legs and grabbed one cock with each hand, jerking them fast, tongue out and eyes closed. Bruno came first, splashing my cheek and forehead with hot, thick spurts. Adrián followed seconds later, coming over my lips, over my chin, into my open mouth. I stayed still, savoring the mix of the two, swallowing what had fallen between my lips, my face smeared with semen dripping down to my breasts.

I don’t know how long it all lasted. I do know the three of us ended up tangled on the sofa, out of breath, laughing quietly at the absurd and wonderful situation, with my nipples still hard and their cocks beginning to soften against my thighs. Bruno kissed my temple, not caring about the streak of come still on my cheek. Adrián, still not back to normal breathing, was the first to speak.

—And how do we go back to treating each other on Monday at the office?

I laughed against my husband’s chest.

—The same as always —I answered—. As if nothing had happened.

And, like the other time, that’s how it was. At work we kept being the same as always, proper and distant, with that silence pact we never needed to negotiate. But the two glasses left half-finished that night were only the first. Because something tells me, from the way Adrián looks at me now when we end up alone by the coffee machine, with that half-smile that says he remembers the taste of my cunt, that this game has only just begun.