The Neighbor, the Threesome, and My Open Marriage

A friend of mine, one of the many I have, opened up to me some time ago and confirmed something I had already suspected. She told me she was bisexual and that she and her husband had had an open relationship from the very beginning, and that things were going well in every sense: as a marriage and in bed. What follows is her story, told just as she gave it to me that afternoon.

When I married Martín, he gradually began revealing his fantasies to me. He did it patiently, almost without my realizing it. Whenever we watched a movie, he would ask me what I liked and what I didn't, what I was curious about, how far I would go.

That was how a specific fantasy emerged from my own: finding out what it felt like to be with another woman. Back then, dating websites didn't exist. You could barely get hold of a few adult magazines, and finding a willing woman wasn't easy. The idea turned me on inside, but I still wasn't ready, and Martín, on top of everything, wanted me to sleep with every female acquaintance who happened to come near me. While we searched for the right woman for our private party, we entertained ourselves with movies and fantasies we talked about during sex.

***

A separated mother with three children lived in the apartment across from ours. The oldest, already a grown woman, was the one who kept the household going: she looked after her siblings and, why not, her mother as well. Her name was Camila, and her mother was Silvia.

Silvia was thirty-eight; I had just turned thirty at the time. She lived as if she were twenty, going out everywhere without caring what happened to her children. More than once, while she was out partying, Camila would show up at my door because her little sister had a fever.

A special bond developed with Camila. Since Martín and I were doing well financially, one day I suggested that, if she wanted to earn a few pesos, she could help me with the cleaning. That's how she started coming over. One afternoon, when I came in, I found her on my bed leafing through one of those magazines we'd carelessly left beneath the mattress. She turned red, but I immediately put her at ease.

—Don't worry about it, Cami. It's my fault for leaving it out in the open.

She looked at me, smiled, and went home. The situation caught my attention, but I pushed it out of my mind. I can't be thinking about this, I told myself. I didn't mention anything to Martín; he would have made a big deal out of it, like any man.

***

A week later, she confronted me.

—Lore, can I borrow the magazine you have? I want to look at it in peace.

—Which one did you see? I don't remember.

Lowering her voice, her embarrassment obvious, she answered:

—Any one with two women doing something.

I froze. She wasn't a minor, but her mother was involved, and I didn't want trouble.

—They're in the last drawer of the wardrobe; there are lots of them. Look at them whenever you want, but here, when I'm not around. No one will find out.

The girl was making a move on me, I thought. Me, an openly liberal woman, and all of a sudden I didn't know whether this was a game for her or whether she had much more experience than I'd imagined.

To settle my doubts, I used a silicone dildo Martín had brought me back from a trip. I left it in the drawer in a precise position, to see whether Camila would touch it. A few days later, it had been moved. So I wouldn't make a mistake, I asked Martín about it; he said he had no idea, that I was the one who had put it away. Home run. If he didn't know, the girl had used it.

***

One summer night, while I was ironing, Camila knocked on the door because she couldn't sleep in the heat and I had air conditioning. We chatted for a while and, all of a sudden, she dropped the bombshell.

—I have to confess something. I started looking at your magazines, and I got so turned on that I used your dildo. There's something about this house that always gets me horny. I hope you aren't angry.

—Not at all. You caught me by surprise, but it's fine.

That was the perfect moment to talk more intimately. I asked her about her sex life, and she told me she'd tried everything, but that now she couldn't come when she masturbated. I went into teacher mode.

—One day you ought to show me how you do it, and I'll explain it to you. I'm addicted to masturbating when Martín isn't here.

She was quick and cut me off:

—Why don't you show me? We could take advantage of the fact that I'm in the mood now.

***

Martín was asleep in the bedroom, and I had the girl turned on in the living room. I sat down to watch, and she had no problem getting naked. She began touching herself, but supposedly it wasn't working for her, so she asked me to make myself comfortable and show her while she watched.

I was already cooked. I took everything off and, in front of me, I had Camila's eyes fixed on the way I masturbated. At one point she came closer, and what had to happen happened: she began running her tongue over the lips of my pussy. It took me less than two seconds to come. She licked me like the best actress in a porn movie. I was having my first bisexual experience, with a girl ten years younger than me.

We fucked each other's brains out in the living room of my own apartment. I didn't know whether I was doing the right thing or the wrong thing: my husband asleep while I fucked a woman. But I convinced myself: it's what he wanted. That's when I found out it wasn't her first time with a woman, that I'd turned her on from the beginning and she hadn't dared tell me. No one had ever eaten me out so well.

That first time opened the door to others, days later, when Martín wasn't home: we used the dildo, our mouths, our breasts. Camila had a magnificent body and lost her head when she got turned on. But now my dilemma was emerging: this girl dominated me, and I needed to turn the tables to fulfill Martín's fantasy, to have all three of us in one bed.

***

Camila came over at any hour, especially during the afternoon nap, when Martín was never home. Afterward, though, guilt would creep in. Not because of what I was doing, but because I was hiding something from Martín. But I always ended up telling myself the same thing: anything for a good party with the man I love.

One afternoon Silvia knocked on my door, with an expression that made me fear the worst. It was the opposite: she asked me to watch the kids that night because she was going out with a friend. And, before she left, she added:

—I love how you scream when Martín fucks you. I've heard you more than once with the window open, and last week you turned me on so much that I ended up masturbating.

Half stunned, I told her I was glad. First the daughter; now the mother. That conversation opened a more direct dialogue between us, although I never wanted to dig any deeper: I was afraid that, if she found out about Camila, everything would go to hell.

***

My next task was to whet Martín's appetite for the girl, but it wasn't easy: from the way he looked at her, he knew he didn't desire her. One day I floated the idea to Camila.

—I'd like to do it with you and Martín.

She didn't like it at all.

—Not in a million years would I let your husband touch me. I like men, I like big dicks, but to me he's like a father or an uncle.

—Don't look at him that way. You have no idea what the three of us could do. It wouldn't be cheating for me: I'd make our relationship official, and then we'd manage it however we wanted.

There was no point. Her refusal was firm. I had to find another way to pull her away from her principles. The next day she came over for the afternoon nap, and I paid her no attention; I told her I was tired. I kept that up for almost a week. The following Monday, she changed her tune.

—What's wrong? Why don't you pay attention to me anymore?

You took the bait, I told myself.

—I didn't like what you said about Martín. I see him differently: we could give each other pleasure, all three of us, without strings attached. So I've decided not to have anything more to do with you, for now.

—It's your decision. Your loss.

She turned around and left. Shit, her answer turned me on more than everything else. The girl had gotten cocky, but I swallowed my pride and promised myself I wouldn't give in.

***

Since it was the middle of summer, Martín and I decided to go to a nearby beach. And the clueless idiot had no better idea than to run into Camila on the sidewalk and invite her. She accepted, but came looking for me first.

—I'm going, but let me ask you: does Martín know anything about us?

—No, I never told him anything. Do you want them to kill me for being stupid?

The three of us traveled in the car, laughing. I was expectant. The apartment we rented had two bedrooms. We paid for everything; she was a VIP guest. Of course, Martín had not the slightest idea of my intentions. The first night was normal. In the morning we went down to the beach, and that's when the girl said, without the slightest hesitation:

—Martín, will you put sunscreen on my back? And on my legs too—wait, let me take off my sarong.

Underneath, she had on a tiny white bikini that looked incredible on her. Martín was surprised and told her how good it looked on her. Well, I thought, not everything bad is entirely bad: at last I'm waking him up; he no longer sees her as the little girl next door, but as a woman. Although the feeling was still strange: in this game of cat and mouse, I was no longer the cat.

***

That night we thought about going to the casino. While Camila showered, Martín told me he hadn't paid attention to her before and that the little neighbor had really dressed herself up. I told him I had already noticed from his eyes. Just then, she shouted from the bathroom for me to bring her a towel.

—Close the door. Look at how I am.

The little bitch was masturbating, with two fingers inside her.

—I'm so horny. Come on, get in; let's shower together. I know you want to.

—Are you crazy? Not here, not now, Martín's outside.

—Let's make it simple: either you come in, or I'm fucking your husband tonight.

—Oh, all right. Go on, I'd like to see you.

As I said it, I thought: liar. And I felt a chill run down my back, a mixture of jealousy and anger. What's happening to me? I didn't recognize myself. Me, the most liberal woman in the world. I said nothing and left the bathroom with my head spinning. I lied to Martín, telling him my blood pressure had dropped because of the heat, and threw myself onto the bed.

When I woke up, he was fanning me with a magazine, and Camila, beside me, was asking whether I was all right. When she stood up, I don't know whether it was on purpose—I think it was—she used her knee to dislodge the only thing covering her and stood naked in front of us. Martín looked at her without saying a word. She casually said she was going to get changed and left the room without covering herself, displaying everything. Martín couldn't take his eyes off her ass, which had bikini marks between the cheeks. My husband's weak spot—that drove him crazy.

***

We went to the casino, won some money, and the three of us drank as much as we could. A storm was rolling in when we returned. I was aroused by the champagne and wanted sex at any cost; Martín was aroused by the alcohol and Camila's show as well.

Once in bed, the thunder began to rumble. Martín, hard, was sucking one of my breasts when the door suddenly flew open. We barely had time to cover ourselves.

—I've been afraid of thunder since I was little. Can I sleep with you?

You can't imagine the annoyed look on Martín's face. But the damage was already done: I was naked, he was hard, and she was wearing a very short nightgown, with no bra. I was in the middle. It wasn't long before I felt a hand touching one of my breasts and moving down to my pussy, already wet. I could do nothing but spread my legs. I turned over, leaving Camila my ass, and without thinking, grabbed Martín's dick and began stroking it. He noticed something was happening; he said nothing, but he got very hard. Until I felt her lips on my mouth.

—Don't say anything. Let yourself go, I told Martín.

He turned around like a whirlwind and began groping everywhere, on me and on Camila. She had already gone down to suck me, and he was putting his dick in my mouth. How easy it had been, I thought. It was a night of frenzy: Camila helped me suck Martín's dick, he did everything with her, and the climax came when he came and the two of us passed his cum from mouth to mouth.

In the morning, instead of guilt, I found the opposite: she was between the two of us, being pampered like a little girl.

—Martín, remember what I told you at the beach? This was the gift I wanted to give you both, for the way you treat me.

We spent those three days fucking wherever there was room and desire. I fulfilled my husband's dream and, in the process, made the situation official.

***

Then we went home, back to our routine. Things with Camila were still great, but our encounters became less frequent because of obligations and tiredness. I also wanted to take a break: I had a marriage and a life ahead of me; not everything was partying and sex. I told her, and she understood perfectly; she didn't want to interfere in our married life. That relieved me: she wasn't a rival, but a friend who knew where the limit was. We had something between the two of us just once more, one night when Martín went fishing, and she confessed that she enjoyed herself much more when we were alone.

***

Martín and I continued feeding our fantasies. One of the options was adding a third person, although it wasn't easy in the city where we lived: discretion was essential. One day he told me he'd like me to have something on my own, a party, and then turn each other on by telling him about it. The request surprised me, but in a moment of arousal, anything is allowed.

This is where Silvia reappears. A family friend had arrived from Italy, and she wanted to take him to a club. The Italian guy was my age, ordinary-looking but very kind, and spoke almost perfect Spanish. Since Martín was away on a trip and I was bored, I agreed to go with them.

His name was Marco, and he was cheerful and made me laugh. We drank champagne nonstop, and by the time I realized it, I was pretty drunk. Silvia and her boyfriend wouldn't stop pawing at each other beside us, and the bubbles, combined with the show, were getting me horny. When it was over, Silvia's boyfriend invited us to his apartment. I was more in the mood to sleep, but Marco insisted so much that I ended up going.

***

The host opened another bottle. Silvia teased me: what if Martín finds out? And that's when I realized I hadn't thought about him once all night. I felt bad for a moment, but it passed quickly. Without beating around the bush, Silvia began fondling her boyfriend until she pulled Bruno's dick out and put it in her mouth in front of everyone. The show could turn anyone on.

That's when I felt Marco's hand moving up my knees. I was horny and didn't know how it had started, but when I realized it, my pants were down and his mouth was between my legs. I was in the arms of another man who wasn't my husband. I let myself go. He put his dick in my mouth—a much thicker piece of equipment than Martín's—and I savored it. At one point I asked him to fuck me; I couldn't take it anymore.

When Silvia saw the scene, she came over and kissed me on the mouth.

—You have no idea how grateful I am for this.

And she latched onto one of my breasts. Where the mother is, the daughter is, I thought amid my moans. I ended up caught in a small orgy: she sucked Marco's dick, Bruno ate me out, and all three of them fucked me in every way possible. Once again, I was the woman to be pleased. Marco gave me his best finish in my mouth, which I immediately passed on to Silvia.

***

When Martín came back, this time I had to tell him: my marriage was at stake. And the son of a bitch got insanely turned on and made me tell him every detail. Then he told me he wanted a party with Silvia. I said he should ask her himself; I wasn't taking that risk.

One morning, while I was driving her to work, Silvia broke the ice.

—We had such a great time the other day. I had no idea you were so horny. I knew something from Camila.

—Sorry... what did Camila tell you?

—My love, I know the whole story. Don't worry, everything's fine. She's grown-up and knows what she wants. From what she told me, I set part of the other night up on purpose: I figured you'd join in, knowing Marco had wanted you from the moment he saw you.

In the end, both the mother and the daughter had surprised me from start to finish.

***

Silvia and I had a few more parties, this time with Martín and whatever boyfriend she brought along. Camila and I also went back to it, though more sporadically. And Martín and I ended up opening our relationship completely. We don't have much time, but at least once a month each of us gives ourselves permission to sleep with someone else: a woman, in his case; a man or a woman, in mine. It gives the relationship a different flavor and, above all, lets us break free from the damn routine.

After many years of marriage, I can say it was the best thing that could have happened to us. We're still together and, truth be told, we're better than ever.