The Getaway Where I Ended Up Between the Three of Them

It’s been two years since that afternoon when I turned my brother-in-law’s convalescence into my own little experiment. Two years in which Adrián kept his distance, hiding behind the excuse of work, routine, and visits that grew more and more infrequent. Until, a couple of weeks ago, the bomb went off: Nuria and he are getting divorced.

Bruno, in his role as protective brother, immediately threw himself into pulling him out of the pit, completely unaware that the real reason for that marital shipwreck bore my first and last name, and the memory of my mouth taking his cock down to my throat, branded into his brother’s mind.

Since the news became official, our house turned into his forced refuge. My husband had practically adopted him: improvised dinners, football afternoons, weekend game nights so he wouldn’t sink into the loneliness of his new reality. For Adrián, each of those visits must have been exquisite torture, having to swallow and pretend everything was normal while sharing the sofa with the woman who had turned his life upside down by leaving him with a rock-hard cock and no release.

That afternoon we set up cards and beers at home. The atmosphere was heavy, not only because of the guest’s obvious discomfort at avoiding my gaze, but also because of the leaden sky threatening to come crashing down on the city since noon. We were playing poker at the dining table and Adrián was losing badly, unable to focus on his hand every time I leaned over the mat to gather the chips, letting my neckline open just enough to show my tits, braless, with my erect nipples brushing against the fabric.

—You’re out of it, man —Bruno scolded him—. Keep this up and I’ll clean you out before dinner.

—Sorry, my head’s somewhere else —he excused himself, rubbing his eyes with those long, firm hands I liked so much, the same hands I imagined spreading my legs and sinking between my thighs.

—It’s normal, Adrián. You’re going through a rough patch —I said in my sweetest tone, secretly savoring the irony of my own words.

Just as I was about to deal the next round, a piercing beep startled the three of us. The phones, resting on the table, started vibrating and sounding an almost deafening alarm, lighting up their screens with an emergency alert.

—Red alert —I read aloud—. Torrential rains and extreme flood risk. They’re asking people not to leave the house or take the car under any circumstances.

Bruno looked out the window. As if the alert had been a direct order to the clouds, the first drops began pounding the glass with unusual violence, turning the street into an almost opaque gray blur. He turned to his brother with a decisive expression.

—You’re not going anywhere —he declared—. I’ll make up the bed in the guest room right now. You’re not leaving this house until tomorrow.

The guest room. The same room where, two years earlier, I pulled out his cock, sucked him until it went purple, and left him on the brink of coming in my mouth only to pull away at the last second and leave his balls swollen like stones. Adrián nodded slowly, swallowing hard, and I simply piled the cards on the green felt, convinced his biggest problem that morning would be trying not to stick his hand down his pants and jerk off thinking about me.

***

While I cleared the glasses in the kitchen, I let my mind drift back to the getaway that had started it all, the one neither brother knew in full. The one Bruno kept in a hidden folder on his computer, believing it was a secret just between us.

It had been his idea. My husband had always had that streak, that barely confessed desire to watch me fuck other men, to see me spread and have a cock rammed all the way inside me while he worked himself in a corner. One night, after a couple of drinks, he came right out and said it: he had two friends from the gym, Iván and Marco, young, just turned twenty-five, with gym-built bodies and hard cocks waiting to be christened by my pussy, and he wanted to organize a weekend in a cabin in the middle of the mountains. Just the four of us. No signal, no neighbors, nobody who could interrupt.

—And what exactly are the four of us supposed to do locked up together? —I asked, though I already knew the answer from the gleam in his eyes.

—Whatever you want —he replied, sliding a hand up my thigh until he brushed my pussy over my panties—. I just want to see you enjoy yourself. See you with two cocks at once. And you want me to watch.

I didn’t need anything else. I said yes before he finished the sentence.

***

The cabin smelled of woodsmoke and forest damp. Iván and Marco arrived at sunset, nervous, laughing too loudly at everything, throwing furtive glances at my cleavage and my ass when they thought I wouldn’t notice. Bruno introduced them with a conspiratorial smile and, before the first bottle of wine was finished, I knew that night would end with two cocks inside me and my face soaked in cum.

I had dressed for the occasion: a short black dress, nothing underneath. No panties, no bra. They knew it as soon as I crossed my legs in front of the fireplace and let them see, for just a second, my shaved, glistening cunt between my thighs. The two young men went silent mid-sentence, their pants straining against their bulges. Bruno sat off to the side, in the armchair, with a glass in his hand and the expression of a man who has set the stage and is only waiting for the show to begin.

I was the one who made the first move. I stood up, went over to Marco, the shyest of the two, and took the glass from his hands. I ran a finger along his jaw, slowly, feeling him swallow, and lowered my hand to the bulge in his pants, squeezing it without shame.

—I don’t bite —I whispered in his ear—. Unless you ask me to. And you, from what I can tell, have a cock like a rock.

I kissed him in front of everyone, sliding my tongue deep into his mouth while I unbuckled his belt. Marco answered with clumsy hunger, held back for hours, while Iván came up behind me and yanked my dress up to my waist, baring my ass. He ran his hands over my hips, then around the front, and with two fingers he spread my pussy lips while biting my neck. I closed my eyes and let them handle me, trapped between two young bodies that smelled of desire, feeling Iván first slip one finger, then two, into my already soaked pussy and move them slowly, curling them upward, searching for the exact spot.

—Fuck, you’re dripping —he murmured against the nape of my neck—. A whole cock could go in you without even touching you.

From the armchair, Bruno said nothing. He just watched, with the glass in one hand and the other already rubbing the bulge over his jeans. And knowing he was watching made everything twice as hot.

I tore their clothes off right there, in front of the fireplace. Marco had a long, curved cock, with a thick head already beaded with precum; Iván’s was thicker, more brutal, with prominent veins and heavy balls hanging beneath it. I knelt on the rug and took it in my mouth without warning, first Marco’s, down to the throat, until my eyes watered and saliva dripped down my chin. Then Iván’s, opening my jaw as far as I could so it would fit. They moved from one cheek to the other, thrusting, and I let them fuck my mouth without resisting, spitting, sucking, licking their balls one by one.

—Look at her, man —Iván gasped, looking at Bruno—. Look at her suck cock. Your wife sucks cock like a pro.

Iván tangled his fingers in my hair, setting a slow rhythm, forcing me to swallow his cock all the way until my throat closed around the head; Marco, by contrast, let me set the pace, trembling every time my tongue ran along his frenulum. I moved from one to the other without hurry, alternating, prolonging the tension, listening to both their breathing grow heavier while Bruno, in the armchair, had already pulled out his cock and was stroking himself slowly, never taking his eyes off me.

—Fuck —Iván murmured, his voice breaking—. I can’t take it anymore. I’m gonna come.

—Yes, you can —I shot back, stopping on purpose and pinning the base of his cock with two fingers to block his orgasm—. You’re going to hold it as long as I say. And you’re going to come where I want.

I looked up at Bruno. My husband had leaned forward in the armchair, the glass forgotten on the table and his cock in his hand, stroking it shamelessly. I held his gaze while keeping my mouth busy, and I understood that this, more than anything else, was for him. For both of them.

I lay back on the rug and spread my legs wide. Marco positioned himself between my thighs and buried his tongue in my pussy without being asked, sucking my clit with the desperation of a hungry novice; Iván sat astride my chest and shoved his cock into my mouth from above, fucking my face while the other licked me from below. I felt the two moans rise together, the one from my full mouth and the one from my devoured cunt, and the first orgasm hit fast, brutal, arching my back against the rug.

—Fuck me now —I ordered Marco when I could speak—. Put it in all the way.

Marco lined up, grabbed my hips, and drove his cock into me in one hard thrust. I screamed. Iván covered my mouth with his hand and kept fucking my face from above while Marco thrust into me below, faster and faster, until both cocks were punching through me at once. Then we switched: they put me on all fours and it was Iván who got behind me, grabbing my hips and driving into me with a hard shove that tore a howl out of me; Marco knelt in front and shoved his cock back into my mouth, holding me by the hair. Bruno got up from the armchair, came over until he was a meter from us, and kept jerking off watching them fuck me through both holes at the same time.

—That’s it, baby —I heard him whisper—. That’s it, my slut. Take it good and deep.

Iván was hammering into me with thrusts that grew deeper and deeper until I could feel his balls tightening against my pussy. He pulled out suddenly, flipped me over, and splattered thick, hot streams all over my belly, my tits, my face. Marco didn’t last even ten seconds longer: he frantically jerked himself off in front of my open mouth and filled my tongue with cum, a thick load I swallowed in one gulp while looking him in the eyes. And Bruno, my Bruno, came at the same time from where he stood, shooting white strands over my tits and mixing with the other two.

I stayed kneeling between the three of them, soaked in come, catching my breath, my heart racing, my pussy throbbing, and a smile I didn’t bother hiding.

That night Bruno took dozens of photos. Photos of every penetration, of every cock in my mouth, of cum sliding down my chin and tits. I let him. I knew exactly what he wanted them for, and I knew that someday those images would be worth much more than any of the three of us imagined.

***

In the middle of the night I woke to the sound of water hammering against the windowpane, or at least that’s what I thought in the first seconds of consciousness. It took me a couple of blinks to realize the real reason I was awake wasn’t the street, but the hallway.

Voices. Whispers loaded with electric hostility.

I stayed motionless under the duvet, straining to listen in the darkness. I recognized Bruno’s voice at once, deep and sharp, reduced to a furious hiss so as not to make noise. Adrián answered him, in a breathless, almost defensive babble. I tried to isolate a single phrase that would make the argument make sense, but the storm swallowed the consonants and they were careful not to raise their voices.

I heard quick footsteps, the rustle of something moving abruptly, and a couple of minutes later, the soft click of the bedroom door handle.

My husband came in in the dark. He didn’t turn on the light, but the little bit of clarity leaking through the slats of the blind was enough for me to make out his silhouette. He climbed into bed slowly, though the way he dropped onto the mattress gave away his state. He was rigid as a board, radiating an anger you could almost touch.

—Hey… —I whispered, searching for his arm under the sheets—. What happened? What were those voices?

He exhaled in ragged bursts, running his hands over his face in pure frustration.

—Nothing. Go to sleep, okay?

—But I heard him. Are you two fighting? Did something happen?

—We’ll talk tomorrow —he cut in sharply, in a firm tone that left no room for argument—. Try to rest now, please.

He turned over, giving me his back, and silence fell. A heavy silence, broken only by the relentless drumming of the rain. I stared at the ceiling, my pulse slightly quickened and my pussy starting to dampen beneath my nightdress, wondering what the hell could have happened in the guest room to set off such a storm between the two brothers.

It took me ages to fall asleep again. I watched every damned hour pass on the alarm clock’s red digits: three, four, five. I only gave in to exhaustion when the clock hit six.

***

At eight, a sharp restlessness forced my eyes open. It was our day off and there was no need to get up early, but tension hung in the air in a nearly suffocating way. Bruno wasn’t beside me.

I went out into the hallway. The guest room door was wide open; the bed perfectly made, no sign of my brother-in-law. I headed to the kitchen, guided by the sound of the moka pot. My husband was standing with his back to me, leaning against the counter, staring blankly at the stovetop. He looked awful, dark circles under his eyes and his jaw clenched.

—Did he leave? —I asked from the doorway, crossing my arms to shield myself from the morning chill.

He turned slowly, rubbing a hand over his face in sheer exhaustion.

—Yeah. He left first thing, as soon as it eased up a bit. I told him I didn’t want to see his face this morning.

—What do you mean, you told him to go? The red alert was still on! —I exclaimed, walking closer with a frown—. What happened last night for you two to get like that?

—I caught him, Lorena —he replied in a hoarse voice, locking eyes with me.

—You caught him doing what?

—It was almost three. I heard a weird noise coming from his room. I thought he’d gotten dizzy or needed something, so I went in without knocking.

—Bruno, you’re scaring me —I lied, feeling a spark of absolute filth ignite in the pit of my stomach and go straight down to my pussy.

—He was sitting in front of the computer. In the dark, lit only by the glow of the monitor. With his cock in his hand, beating it like a pig —he spat with a mix of disgust and disbelief—. He had cum already on his fingers, on his T-shirt. And that’s not even the worst part. The worst part is what he was looking at.

My brain was racing a mile a minute. And so was my pussy.

—What was he looking at?

—He’d dug through my hidden folders. And he found the photos from the cabin getaway.

Bruno swallowed hard, unable to hold my gaze, his face twisted by the image burned into his retinas.

—He had the photos from that weekend full screen. The ones of the two guys I brought you by surprise. He was watching you on your knees with one cock in your mouth and another in your cunt, your face soaked in cum, and he was jerking off looking at you. At my wife. He was coming thinking about fucking my wife.

The level of his obsession was fascinating. Adrián already knew the content of those galleries perfectly, because I’d shown them to him myself a couple of years earlier in that same office while I sucked his cock and promised him that one day I’d let him fuck me however I wanted, but Bruno didn’t know that. And this was the exact moment to play my part.

I let my arms fall, pretending I was short of breath. I took a step back and braced myself on the edge of the counter, looking at him wide-eyed as if I were processing a devastating blow.

—Tell me that’s not true… —I murmured, my voice trembling, injecting pure disappointment and vulnerability into every word—. He invaded my privacy. He went digging through your things to jerk off watching me fuck, in our own house, with his cock out and coming while thinking about putting his in me. How could he do something like that to us?

—I know, I’m so sorry. Forgive me… —he apologized at once, closing the distance to wrap me in a protective hug, full of guilt for not having secured his files better.

—The thought makes me sick. I don’t want to see him here again. I feel dirty —I whispered against his chest, hiding my face so he couldn’t see the smile threatening to give me away.

And there, resting my chin on my husband’s shoulder while he stroked my hair to comfort me, I drew an invisible smile. How predictable Adrián was. And how outrageously easy it was going to be to play this new game, now that I had the perfect excuse, my pussy already throbbing with anticipation, and both brothers exactly where I wanted them: one drowned in guilt up to his ears, the other with my memory burned into his cock, waiting for me to lift a finger so he could come running to bury himself in me to the hilt.