Three Strangers Were Hiding in My Guest House

When I married Damián, I knew my life was set. He was the heir to a hotel chain and could have chosen any of the women who came near him. Instead, he chose me, a neighborhood waitress who paid for her own drinks and came back to the bar when it was her shift. I never cared about his money. I fell in love with him before I even knew who his family was.

I’m thirty-three, with brown hair and eyes so light that, according to Damián, they look like glass. I know some men turn their heads when I pass. I also know that never made me feel as desired as I felt that week no one knows about.

After the wedding, his father gave us a huge house on the outskirts: garden, indoor pool, three floors, and, at the back of the property, a guest house with its own entrance from the back alley. It seemed excessive to me. I’d come from sharing a flat with three friends and suddenly I had a mansion for two. I only accepted on the condition that someday we’d look for something smaller and more normal.

Now that you know the setting, I can tell you what really matters.

It all started one night in late winter, one of those nights when the weather goes mad for no reason. Damián was out of the country closing a deal with his father and I, bored, was reading on the sofa under a lamp. My phone rang and I recognized his picture on the screen.

—Good evening, my love —I answered.

—Good evening, Renata. Sorry for the hour, the meeting ran long. How are you?

—Here, reading and waiting for your call. I went out with Sole and Vero this afternoon, so I’m feeling a little tipsy.

—So you’re a bit drunk... —He laughed.— It’s a shame I’m not home.

—A real shame.

—We can still have our party. We’ve got a video call.

The idea made me laugh. I’d never been sold on long-distance sex: I missed the brush of fingers on skin, another person’s breath waking up my pores, the weight of a body. None of that fits inside a screen. But the wine made me bold. I took off my robe in the middle of the living room and hit the camera button.

Damián’s eyes widened when he saw me naked.

—Fuck —he muttered.— You look good enough to eat.

—Still want to play?

He nodded several times and stripped on the other side of the screen. I watched him take himself in hand, already hard, and start moving his fist slowly, staring straight at me.

—Show them to me —he asked, his voice rough.— Squeeze them for me.

I put my hands on my breasts and kneaded them, pinching my nipples until they stood hard under my own fingers. Damián let out a groan when he saw it. He told me to sit on the sofa and open my legs for the camera, and I obeyed without a second thought, planting one foot on the edge of the cushion so he could see everything.

—Put a finger in —he whispered.— Slowly. I want to see how wet your cunt gets.

I did as he said. I slid my hand over my lips, already soaked, and slipped one finger inside. Then two. I started moving them at the same rhythm as he was jerking his cock on the other side of the phone. Our ragged breathing was the only music of that encounter across the world.

—Rub your clit —I asked him, biting my lip.— Pretend it’s my tongue.

—And you put in another. Open yourself for me. I want you to cum showing your pussy to the camera.

I obeyed again, already panting, with three fingers sinking in and out while my palm slapped against my clit. I asked him to close his eyes and imagine those touches were mine, that it was my mouth licking the head of his cock.

I was about to let myself go completely when something stopped me. A shadow, a tiny movement in the window that faced the guest house. I looked toward the darkness, narrowing my eyes. There was nothing. No light, no figure, no sound.

—Why did you stop? —he asked.

—The curtains are open. I’m going to close them.

I got up and drew every curtain in the living room shut. I knew the walls were too high for anyone outside to see inside. Even so, I felt watched. My arousal had vanished. I finished the call pretending at a happy ending I hadn’t had, moaning at the screen while inside I stayed uneasy, and went to bed turning that feeling over in my mind.

***

I barely slept. The next morning I went to work anyway, but my boss sent me home because of how bad I looked. I drove back, came in through the underground parking garage, and went up the internal stairs to the living room. I left my keys and bag on the table, and then I heard it: a splash in the garden pool.

I pulled the curtain aside a little and held my breath.

There was a man swimming. Naked. Dark skin gleaming under the light, broad back, strong arms, not a hair on his chest. He was swimming on his back, and when he turned he gave me a view of the firmest ass I had ever seen.

I thought he was a thief. I took my phone out of my bag and started dialing emergency services, keeping an eye on him through the sheer curtain. Just then he came out of the water. Water ran down his chest, over his stomach, and disappeared lower, where his cock hung heavy between his thighs, long and thick even at rest, the dark glans swaying with every step. I froze with my finger hovering over the screen, unable to press. My mouth went dry at once.

He dried off calmly, put on some pants, and walked through the garden. What I hadn’t expected was to see him go into the guest house and close the door behind him.

I stood there for a good while staring at that door, not knowing what to do. Did we have squatters? When I was younger I’d snuck into other people’s pools for a swim myself, so it didn’t seem that terrible either. But I needed to know before calling anyone. I took the binoculars Damián used for hunting and focused on the windows. Between the slats of the blind, a light moved, like a television left on.

I went down to the main floor and out into the garden through the back door, so they wouldn’t see me coming. I walked barefoot across the grass, hugging the walls, holding my breath. I reached the guest house, knelt in front of the door, and pressed my ear to the wood.

There was movement inside. I was about to back away and finally call the police when the door flew open and I fell forward, against someone’s legs.

***

I looked up, startled. I had fallen on a dark-skinned man, also naked, with curly hair and an imposing body. At my eye level, hanging in front of my face, he had a thick, long cock, the foreskin pulled back and the glans shining, which began to swell just from the surprise of finding me there. He was looking at me as startled as I was at him. Inside, someone let out a shout in a language I didn’t understand; a third man was standing in front of the television, in shorts, with a half-finished soccer game on the screen. From the back appeared the swimmer I had seen in the pool, now with a towel at his waist that barely concealed the bulge.

For an endless few seconds, none of the three moved. Neither did I. I tried to get up, stammering that they should let me go, that I wouldn’t say anything.

The one with an old scar on his chest came closer slowly, hands open, like someone calming a frightened animal.

—You be quiet? —he said, enunciating very carefully, finger to his lips.

I nodded. I wasn’t going to say anything.

He pointed at his companions, then toward the big house, and mimed someone running with his fingers.

—Police —he added.

I understood. They had run from something, or someone, and were hiding there. I nodded again, this time calmer. Maybe they’d let me go without more fuss.

But then my gaze dropped on its own, without permission, to the curly-haired man’s cock, which was still hanging a hand’s breadth from my face, seeming heavier by the second. And I couldn’t look away anymore. I shut my eyes for an instant, shook my head to come to myself, and a soft laugh made my skin prickle.

The one with the scar had caught me looking. He was smiling. The swimmer’s towel had fallen to the floor almost by accident, and he made no move to pick it up either.

—You like it? —the one with the scar asked, nodding toward his own groin, where his cock was beginning to rise thick against his thigh.

I felt my cheeks burn. I didn’t answer, but I didn’t get up either. And that silence was my answer. Something in me, something that had been asleep for weeks in front of a phone screen, suddenly woke up in that room charged with heat and bodies.

It was there, in that exact instant, that I surrendered to desire.

The swimmer sat beside me and lifted my chin with two fingers so I’d look him in the eyes. They were a deep brown, and his smile was as perfect as the rest of him. No more was needed. I leaned in myself, of my own accord, and took his cock in my hand. It was already hard, hot, throbbing against my palm. I ran my tongue along its full length, from base to glans, and then took it into my mouth. I heard him groan, low and long, while my tongue traced his frenulum and my lips closed around the head. I sucked slowly, learning the shape of him, and he buried his fingers in my hair without forcing me, guiding me only a little.

—Like that, very good —he panted in his language, though I understood the tone perfectly.

I felt hands freeing me from my T-shirt, and then from my bra. Behind me, the one with the scar pulled my clothes down until I was naked and stroked me between the legs, lingering with his fingers exactly where I needed them. He spread my pussy lips and dragged two fingers through my slit, soaking them, before sinking them in to the knuckles. I panted without letting go of the cock in my mouth. He started pumping me with his fingers while his thumb rubbed my clit in circles, and within seconds I was dripping into his palm. The curly-haired one came up on the other side and I found him with my free hand. I grabbed his cock and started stroking him, feeling the foreskin slide back and the shiny glans emerge between my fingers.

In just a few minutes I had gone from fear to absolute lust. The shock of discovering three strangers had turned into gasps.

I knelt on the floor and alternated between the three, savoring the different taste and weight of each one. The swimmer’s was the longest, curving upward; the one with the scar’s was thick as my wrist, veins standing out; the curly-haired one’s was dark and heavy, with a wide glans that forced my mouth open. I sucked them one by one, spitting saliva over each cock and jerking them with my hand as I moved to the next, until all three were shining in front of my face. The two waiting their turn touched themselves at eye level with me, and sometimes I would lick all three at once, my tongue jumping from one head to another. The sound of their breathing began to fill the room, and I thought it was one of the best sounds I had ever heard.

***

The one with the scar laid me on my back on the rug and kissed me while stroking my breasts, tugging my nipples until I moaned into his mouth. I wondered if he could taste the others on my tongue, and instead of embarrassing me, the thought only turned me on more. The swimmer knelt between my legs, spread them all the way, and buried his face in my cunt. His tongue went straight for my clit and started working it, first side to side, then in circles, then sucking it between his lips. I drove my heels into his back and arched, offering him more. He slid two fingers into me and curled them upward, searching for the right spot, never stopping licking. I came in his mouth within minutes, clamping his head between my thighs, screaming against the scarred man’s mouth.

I had barely finished trembling when they turned me over. They put me on all fours on the rug. Behind me, the curly-haired one took his place and ran the glans up and down across my pussy lips, coating himself in my wetness. Then he entered me very slowly.

He did it carefully, and I was grateful that the swimmer had prepared me, because what I had to take was no small thing. I felt myself opening millimeter by millimeter, the head forcing its way in first and then the whole length filling me until his hips hit my ass. I didn’t cry out thanks to the kiss from the one with the scar, who had positioned himself in front of me and was sealing my lips with his mouth while I adjusted to the invasion. When I pulled away, I found the swimmer’s cock again with my mouth and swallowed it at the same rhythm as the curly-haired one started fucking me from behind.

He went slowly at first, gripping my hips with both hands, pulling almost all the way out and then sinking back in to the hilt, wrenching a moan from me with every thrust. Then he sped up. The sound of his thighs slapping against my ass filled the room, mixed with the wet noises of the swimmer’s cock going in and out of my mouth.

—You’re so tight —the curly-haired one growled in his broken Spanish, giving my ass cheek a sharp slap.— Such a delicious pussy.

The one with the scar was touching himself beside me, never losing his smile, and from time to time he would bring his cock close to my face so I’d lick it while the swimmer took it out of my mouth. I was somewhere else, far from the house, far from Damián, far from everything, with the three cocks taking turns using me through the three holes on top.

I had my second orgasm like that, between two busy mouths and a cock pounding me from behind. And it wasn’t the last.

They changed positions without me having to say a word, as if they understood each other with nothing but a glance. I sat astride the one with the scar, in the armchair, and lowered myself onto him with all my weight. His thick cock opened my cunt again, and this time I felt every vein, every inch, until I let myself sink all the way down and felt the base. I screamed, but not from pain. I started bouncing on him while he held my hips with those huge hands, lifting me and dropping me to his rhythm, setting the pace of my rocking.

The other two came closer, one on each side, so not a moment of my mouth or hands would go unoccupied. I took a cock in each hand and stroked them both at once, turning my head to suck first the swimmer and then the curly-haired one, never stopping riding the one with the scar. Saliva ran down my chin, sweat slid between my breasts, and he lowered his head to suck them, biting my nipples just as I came down hard.

The swimmer finished first, groaning with a broken voice, and came in long hot spurts that splattered my breasts and neck. I spread them over myself with my fingers like cream, looking the curly-haired one in the eyes, and he held out for two more thrusts before emptying himself too, this time inside my mouth. I swallowed what I could and the rest dribbled from the corners of my lips. The one with the scar gripped me hard, slammed upward into me three, four times, and came deep inside, holding me against him until the last contraction, his hands digging into my ass.

How long did it last? I wouldn’t know how to say. My sense of time disappeared. I didn’t feel the minutes pass. There was only the now, the heat, the sweat of three men on my skin.

When they were done, they left me stretched out in the armchair, exhausted and not complaining one bit, with my legs open and semen dripping from my cunt. The three of them lifted me up, opened the door, and carried me to the pool, where they set me down in the cool water. They got in with me, and there, laughing like accomplices, night fell on us. Before I even got out of the water they were already finding me again with their fingers below, and I fucked one of them braced against the edge while the other two manhandled my breasts.

I never knew whether any neighbor heard anything. I didn’t worry about that until the next morning, more satisfied than I had ever been in my life.

***

That week was one endless party. I tried positions I didn’t even know existed, in the water, in bed, on the grass. They fucked me in front, from behind, in the mouth; they took me two at a time and even all three at once, with one cock in each hole, until I learned how to cum even like that, impaled by all three at the same time. I learned to tell them apart not only by their names —they finally told me: Kael, Adisa, and Tomé—, but by the way each one filled me, by how each one moaned when he came, by where each one liked to finish: one in my mouth, another on my tits, another inside. The only rest was when we slept, the four of us naked and piled together in the same bed, with hands that found my pussy even in our sleep; or when I spoke to Damián on the phone. I refused video calls on the excuse that I had a cold; really I was afraid one of them would appear in the background, and I was also afraid it would show on my face everything they were doing to me.

But days pass without asking permission, and my husband’s return drew near. We had to say goodbye. The last night was the best of all: pure skin, pure desire, no clock to measure it. They kept me on the bed for hours, taking turns without rest, coming over me, inside me, again and again, until my skin smelled of all three of them and I couldn’t tell my sweat from theirs.

When I woke the next morning, I looked for them through the guest house. They were gone. I went out into the garden naked, as I had lived all that week, and pushed the door open.

It was empty and clean, as if they had never been there.

Sad, I went back to the house, showered, and resumed my life as a married woman. You may think I’m a hypocrite for carrying on with my marriage. I don’t care. I know I lived through an unforgettable week with three lovers who knew exactly where to touch and when, and that from the beginning we all knew it had an expiration date.

Several years have passed and even now my skin still prickles when I remember it. It’s a secret that belongs only to me. I never told Damián, and I don’t think I need to. After all, I love my husband.

But no one will ever take from me what I felt that week with three strangers in my guest house.