The Never Have I Ever That Ended With the Four of Us on the Sofa

This is a story that happened a few months ago. My husband and I went to a concert with a couple of friends, Carla and Diego, in a town half an hour from where we live. The four of us had dinner beforehand and, when we left the restaurant, Mateo was already pretty drunk. I had barely had anything to drink at dinner, or afterward during the concert. He, on the other hand, never let go of his glass.

Throughout the entire show, Mateo wouldn’t stop acting the fool with every woman who crossed his path. He was carrying a fan—one of those I’d bought him at a fair—and he used it to fan strangers. Especially young women who played along. I could see them laughing with him, looking at him, touching his arm when they thanked him. It wasn’t hard to read the situation.

At any other time I wouldn’t have cared. I might even have gotten turned on. Mateo and I had no problem with that kind of thing and in bed we’d talked a thousand times about similar fantasies. But that week we’d had a major fight over the new apartment and I was still angry. His flirting that night annoyed me more than I was willing to admit in front of Carla and Diego. So I kept quiet and drank water while he laughed at someone else’s cleavage.

After half past one, Diego suggested changing venues. The hall was starting to empty out and in that area, at that hour, there wasn’t much else open. Before the night died on us completely, I offered to have them come back to our place for one last drink. We’d moved a few months earlier and were still breaking in the new sofa. We got a taxi and in ten minutes we were opening the apartment door.

I made four gin and tonics. Mateo and Carla sat together on the big sofa, and I sank into a chair next to Diego, who had settled on the small sofa. We drank, talked, laughed at nonsense. When I looked at the clock again it was three thirty in the morning and we were all pretty far gone.

“What if we play Never Have I Ever?” Mateo said suddenly. “But with a new rule: if you drink and someone wants details, you have to give them.”

The three of us thought it was the perfect idea. We’d had too many drinks to back out.

“Who goes first?” Diego asked.

“Me,” Carla said.

She tucked her legs under her body and cleared her throat.

“Never have I ever slept with more than one person on the same day.”

The three of us drank. Carla froze with her glass halfway to her lips and stared at Diego, mouth slightly open.

“Baby... that was ages ago,” he said.

“No, no, Diego,” I cut in—“now you have to explain it. Rules are rules.”

Diego looked at the three of us with a pitiful expression, like a puppy caught chewing the sofa.

“About fifteen years ago. Before I started with Carla. One night I went out with people from work and fucked a girl in the bathroom of a bar early on. And by the end of the night I ended up at another girl’s place. That’s it. A lifetime ago.”

Carla looked at him with a strange mix of annoyance and arousal. She pressed her lips together, took a long drink, and didn’t ask anything else.

“Your turn, Diego,” she said.

Diego smiled as if he’d had the next move ready for a while.

“Never have I ever been fucked in the ass.”

Carla and I drank at the same time. I looked up and saw Diego staring at her, stunned.

“What?” he said. “When have they fucked you in the ass? You don’t let me.”

Carla turned red to the ears and lowered her eyes.

“Diego, can we talk about this later, please?”

“No,” he said, no longer smiling. “Now. I don’t care that they’re here.”

Carla searched for my eyes, asking for help. I tried to tone things down.

“Diego, if she doesn’t want to talk about it now, you can discuss it later.”

“No. I want to know. If she’s embarrassed, you say first when you’ve been fucked in the ass, so she feels supported.”

I let out a soft laugh. I didn’t care in the slightest.

“Mateo fucks me in the ass almost every night, Diego. But if Carla doesn’t want to tell it, don’t force her.”

Carla took a deep breath and finally lifted her head.

“I did anal with Rodrigo, my ex. I never liked it, it hurt. That’s why I haven’t wanted to with you. It’s not because of you, Diego. It’s just that I was scared.”

Diego went quiet, nodding slowly. He wasn’t happy, but at least his shoulders had lowered.

“My turn,” I said, to keep the conversation moving. “Never have I ever had a golden shower.”

Carla and Diego drank at the same time. I almost dropped my glass.

“What?” I said. “That’s something the two of you need to explain.”

They looked at each other, smiled crookedly, and for the first time that night they seemed to be on the same team.

“Diego likes to piss in my mouth a lot,” she said calmly. “And it really turns me on when he does.”

I saw Mateo shift on the sofa, right beside her. I saw Diego change position in his chair, right next to me.

“And you do it to him too?” I asked.

“Sometimes, yes,” Carla answered.

“And he likes it?”

“He loves it.”

I smiled as I brought my glass to my lips. Mateo and I had never done anything like that. Not out of prudishness, just because it had never come up. And there, listening to Carla, I realized the idea didn’t disgust me at all.

It was Mateo’s turn. I watched him think. His left hand was resting on the sofa, in the gap between his thigh and Carla’s, and it wasn’t exactly clear what he was doing with that hand. I’d long suspected there was something between Mateo and Carla that I had never been able to confirm. That hand, so close to her leg, didn’t help clear up my doubts.

“Never have I ever,” Mateo said slowly, “thought about fucking the opposite-sex person in this room who isn’t my partner.”

Silence. The four of us breathed at the same time. It was the kind of question that changes everything forever.

Am I honest? Do I say it?

And as if by magic, without looking at each other, the four of us picked up our glasses and drank. No one asked anything. There was no need.

Carla’s turn again.

“Never have I ever,” she said slowly, looking at me, “thought about sucking my friend’s husband’s cock.”

I looked at her. She looked at me. We both picked up our glasses and drank.

Carla seemed ready to stop there. I wasn’t.

“Do you want to suck Mateo’s cock?” I asked.

She blushed. Before, when she’d asked her question, she hadn’t gone red. Now she had. I stared at her without blinking. Mateo, sitting beside her, was staring too. Diego, her husband, was staring too.

“Yes,” she finally answered, with a defiant edge.

“Then why don’t you do it?”

“Do you want me to?”

“Yes,” I said. “Do it.”

Carla turned her head toward Diego. Diego looked at her very seriously. He didn’t want to say yes outright. He needed something in return.

“And you?” Carla asked, now turning to me. “Do you want to suck my husband’s cock?”

“Of course. And not only that. I want him to fuck my ass, since you won’t let him.”

Mateo smiled from the other sofa. We’d talked about this possibility many times in bed. About ending up fucking Carla and Diego. What we’d never known was how it would happen. Or whether it would happen at all.

***

Carla stood up. She has big tits and that night she was wearing a huge neckline. She quickly tied her hair up with both hands, took off her shirt, unclasped her bra, and let it fall over the back of the sofa. She sat astride Mateo and started eating his mouth like she’d been thinking about it for weeks.

Then I looked at Diego. Diego was looking at me with the face of someone who didn’t know what to do with his hands. I stood up, grabbed his wrist, and took him down the hall. The living room door was left ajar behind us.

We got to the bedroom and I closed the door carefully. I stripped in thirty seconds, no theatrics. Diego looked at me like a kid on his first day of school. I went up to him, pulled off his T-shirt, lowered his pants, and when I took off his boxers I saw he had a huge cock, still soft. I knelt down and took it into my mouth. It started getting hard almost immediately. I’d barely been sucking him for a minute when I felt his body tense. He came in my mouth before I had time to pull my head away.

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and sighed.

What a plan.

“You eat me out,” I told him, lying back on the bed.

He tried. Three, four minutes. Not bad, but not really in it either. I couldn’t get the sound from the living room out of my head: Carla’s broken breathing, the creak of the sofa, Mateo’s low voice.

“Wait here,” I told Diego. “Don’t come out. I’ll be back in a bit.”

I left the bedroom closing the door softly, still naked, and walked barefoot down the hall.

When I peered into the living room, Mateo was standing behind the sofa and Carla was on all fours on the cushions, her ponytail undone. I saw Mateo pull his cock out of her pussy and spread her ass cheeks apart with both hands. And then he slid it into her ass. Slowly, controlled. Carla let out a long, guttural moan that had nothing at all to do with the silence she’d kept all night.

With her husband she didn’t want it. With mine she did. I stayed in the doorway, motionless, watching.

Carla turned her head to get the hair out of her face and her eyes met mine. She went still. Mateo, noticing it, turned too and saw me.

“Come here,” he said.

I didn’t think twice. I crossed the living room, knelt beside the sofa, and obeyed. Mateo grabbed my hair, pulled his cock out of Carla’s ass, and shoved it into my mouth. He smelled like her, sweat, alcohol, and perfume mixed together.

After a few thrusts down my throat, he pulled his cock out, pushed my head toward Carla’s body, and made me lick everything: her ass, her cheeks, her pussy. Carla moaned with her face buried in the cushions while I ran my tongue over her slowly.

Then I felt Mateo position himself behind me. He grabbed my hips and, without warning, shoved his cock into my ass. He was well lubricated from Carla. It didn’t hurt. I started moaning against my friend’s body while I fingered myself with my right hand.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Mateo had picked up his phone with the other hand. He was recording. Recording him fucking my ass, me eating Carla’s cunt and ass, the two of us sinking into something we weren’t going to be able to come back from.

He pulled his cock out. He grabbed the two of us by our ponytails and hair and made us suck him at the same time, one on each side. He picked up the phone again. He was still filming everything.

Then he grabbed Carla by the nape of the neck, opened her mouth with two fingers, and pissed into it. She swallowed. She squeezed her eyes shut, but she swallowed. He grabbed me right away and repeated the gesture. The sensation was warm and strange and, at the same time, it turned me on more than anything else we had done that night.

He pressed our faces together and made us kiss. Carla’s mouth tasted like Mateo. So did mine. We kissed slowly, with tongue, unhurried.

“Stay still, both of you,” Mateo said suddenly.

He stood up, left the living room, and walked to the bedroom. Carla and I stayed kneeling on the rug, clinging to each other. I heard him open the door. I heard him say something to Diego, in a very low voice, no shouting. Thirty seconds later, he came out and went back to the living room. I never asked him what he said to Diego that night. Diego never told.

Mateo sat on the sofa. He called us over. We went back. He fucked us in turns for what felt like hours. First Carla, then me. Then Carla in the ass, then me. He made us suck him while carrying the remnants of the other on our mouths. The two of us came so many times I lost count.

When he was about to finish, he grabbed us by the nape of the neck, put us on our knees in front of the sofa, and pressed our faces together. He came all over us, aiming at the two of us. Most of it landed on my cheek and in Carla’s mouth. We both licked it up, as if it had been promised for months.

Carla stood up, put her shirt on backward and her pants on without socks, and walked to the bedroom. She said something curt to Diego that I didn’t catch. The two of them left through the door without saying goodbye. Carla turned her head for a second before closing it and held my gaze. She nodded once.

***

When Carla and Diego were already home, both in bed, their phones vibrated at the same time. It was a message from Mateo. A video.

In the video you could see Mateo fucking Carla in the ass, then fucking the two of us, then pissing into our mouths. I had been pixelated out completely. You couldn’t recognize a single mole on me. Carla, on the other hand, was perfectly visible: her face, her tits, her undone ponytail, her eyes closed as she took it.

Diego watched the video in silence. He turned off the screen, left the phone on the nightstand, rolled over, and switched off the light.

Carla stayed still for a few seconds. Then she picked up her phone, slid it under the sheets, and opened it again.

That, of course, I only knew later. She told me herself, two months later, in a café, without lifting her eyes from her coffee.

“I masturbated three times that night watching it,” she told me. “And I showed it to a coworker friend.”

I didn’t ask which one. Nor whether Diego still didn’t know the video hadn’t been deleted.