What Happened in the Kitchen While He Slept

Renata opened her eyes with the first light and felt the empty side of the bed. Damián had already gotten up. That didn’t surprise her: the house in the mountains always woke him early, with its big windows and the scent of pine drifting in from everywhere. She sat up slowly, still heavy with sleep, and slipped on a silk robe that barely covered her body.

She was a woman with generous curves, very fair skin, and wide hips. Her large, firm breasts moved beneath the fabric every time she breathed. She knew the effect they had on men, and that weekend morning among friends, she knew it better than ever.

She went downstairs barefoot on the wooden staircase. The party from the night before had left half-finished glasses on the table and a strange silence hanging in the air. Bruno was alone in the living room, sunk into the sofa, staring blankly at the window.

—Up so early and already awake? —she asked, coming closer.

Bruno lifted his head. His eyes were tired, his jaw tight.

—I couldn’t sleep —he said—. What happened last night with Daniela left me feeling awful. We argued over something stupid and she went to the other room.

Renata sat down beside him and put a hand on his shoulder. He was a big man, broad-backed and pale-skinned, the kind who occupied all the space wherever they were.

—Daniela is impulsive —she said softly—, but she loves you. Tomorrow she won’t even remember this.

As she leaned toward him, her robe opened a little and her breast brushed Bruno’s arm. It was just an instant, barely the heat of her skin through the silk, but they both felt it. Bruno turned his face toward her and something in his gaze changed all at once.

—You shouldn’t do that —he murmured.

—I’m not doing anything —Renata replied, and she did not move away.

Even though she knew perfectly well what she was doing.

Bruno’s hand rose to the opening of the robe, hesitant, asking permission without words. Renata did not stop him. She let his fingers trace the edge of the fabric, peel it back centimeter by centimeter, until the silk slid off her shoulders and fell onto the sofa.

Bruno looked at her as if he had never seen a woman before. He leaned in and closed his mouth over one of her breasts, first carefully, then with a hunger that made her arch her back. Renata tangled her fingers in his hair and held him there against her, hearing her own breathing grow shorter.

—Slowly —she asked, without conviction—. They’ll hear us.

—I don’t care —Bruno answered against her skin.

He went lower. He left a warm trail down her stomach, paused at her navel, continued farther down. When his mouth reached between her legs, Renata bit down on the back of her hand to keep from making a sound. Bruno’s tongue moved unhurriedly, with a patience that undid her, and she spread her thighs wider without thinking, offering herself.

What had started as comfort had become something else. Renata stroked her breasts while he licked her, lost in the sensation, her head thrown back against the sofa. The sun was now pouring fully through the window and warming her skin.

***

Tomás woke up on the other side of the hall. His wife was sleeping deeply, exhausted from the long night, and he got up quietly to get some water. When he stepped into the living room, he froze in the doorway.

Renata, completely naked on the sofa, was giving herself to Bruno’s mouth. Feeling someone’s presence, she opened her eyes and turned them toward Tomás. There was no shame. Instead, there was a slow smile and a hand sliding over her own breast, a wordless invitation.

Tomás moved forward as if he had been called. He unfastened his pants and she, without taking her eyes off him, took him into her mouth with an eagerness that made him draw in a sharp breath through his teeth. His hands went to her breasts at the same time, and for a moment Renata’s head became a whirl: Bruno’s tongue below, Tomás’s taste in her mouth, the two sensations pulling her toward the same edge.

A thought crossed her, brief and sharp. Damián wasn’t there. Her husband was not part of this. But guilt lasted only as long as a blink, because right away she imagined his face if he saw her like this, split between two men, and that —knowing he could enjoy watching her— made her burn even hotter.

Bruno and Tomás settled on her two breasts, one each, as if they had practiced it. Renata held their heads, one in each hand, and moans began slipping from her before she could stop them.

—Get up here —Tomás told her, dragging a dining chair.

He placed her on all fours on the seat, her breasts hanging over the edge, and positioned himself behind her. He entered her in one stroke, without hesitation, with a thrust that made her cry out. Bruno took the opportunity to offer her his sex again and she took him, alternating between the pounding from behind and the rhythm she set with her mouth.

The chair creaked with every movement, a dry squeal bouncing off the walls of the open kitchen. Renata was beyond any modesty. She felt Tomás’s palms come down on her ass, the heat rising along her back, and in her head the two fantasies mingled until they blurred into the image of Damián standing in the doorway, watching.

***

And then the chair’s creaking truly woke Damián.

He came down the stairs with his heart pounding in his chest and stopped on the last step. The scene before him should have destroyed him: his wife, naked, between two of his best friends. But what he felt was not anger. It was a surge of desire so strong he had to brace himself against the banister.

He had fantasized about this for months without daring to say it out loud. Seeing her desired by others, seeing her lose control, knowing that afterward she would return to his arms. There it was, happening, and he didn’t want it to stop.

Renata saw him and held out her hand without interrupting anything.

—What are you waiting for, my love? —she said in a hoarse voice—. Come with us.

Tomás, with an accomplice smile, moved aside and gave him his place. Damián positioned himself behind her and entered her slowly, savoring every inch, while his friends watched him. Far from bothering him that they were there, it added a new edge to the pleasure. She was his wife, and he was sharing her.

—You’re a gorgeous slut —Tomás told her, and the insult, far from offending her, made her tremble.

—Yours, my love —Damián replied against her ear—. You’re mine even if you give yourself to everyone.

Renata gave a low, breathless laugh and leaned toward Bruno again. She took him in her hand, weighing him, silently comparing him with her husband’s, and the difference itself amused her. She began to use her mouth with a skill that drew a long moan from Bruno.

They changed positions with a fluidity that seemed choreographed. Tomás lay back on the rug and Renata settled over him, taking him from behind with calculated slowness. Her breasts were free, swaying, and Bruno came up in front to fill her at the same time. Damián, standing beside her, offered her his mouth.

Three men at once. Every part of her body occupied, every nerve vibrating. Renata felt like the center of something, owner and captive of her own pleasure. She let go of Damián’s mouth for just a second, enough to speak.

—Look at me —she asked him—. I want you to look at me.

And he looked at her. He looked at her as he had never looked at her in years, with a mixture of pride and madness, confirming in each of her moans that fantasy it had taken him so long to admit.

The thrusts grew faster, clumsier, more urgent. Tomás tensed first, with a growl that shook his whole body. Damián followed, holding her by the hips. Bruno pulled out at the last instant and finished across the skin of her belly, marking her.

Renata let herself fall among the three of them, her breathing ragged and a smile of satisfaction on her face. The men laughed quietly, exhausted, scattered across the floor and the sofa.

—Darling —she said then, turning toward Damián with a mischievous glint—, there’s still one place left.

—Where? —he asked, raising an eyebrow.

—My breasts.

Iván, who had come down long ago and had been watching from the doorway without saying a word, stepped forward.

—I can take care of that —he said in a low voice.

He approached Renata, who was still lying on the rug, splendid and spent. She welcomed him with one hand, stroking him slowly, holding him with the other, until he tensed and finished across her breasts, completing the picture the other three had left unfinished.

***

Renata finally got up, amused by the mess they had made, and left the four men tangled in a lazy conversation about the night, the morning, and what would come next. She needed a shower.

She pushed open the bathroom door and stopped short. The scene she found on the other side left her speechless for an instant. What she saw first gave her a shiver of discomfort; but as her eyes adjusted to the dimness, that discomfort turned into something else, into a hot curiosity she already knew well.

She smiled to herself. The door closed behind her, leaving the scene in shadow, as a prelude to everything that weekend still had in store.