The Night My Trans Lover Introduced Me to Renata

Several weeks had passed since that first drink, the one that supposedly meant nothing and ended up changing everything. What had started as a barroom curiosity had become something Damián no longer knew how to name: a habit, an addiction, a part of him that existed only when he crossed that door. Every encounter with Salma pushed the boundary of what he believed himself to be a little farther. And that night, without knowing it yet, that boundary was going to disappear completely.

He arrived after work, as had become ritual. He climbed the three flights without waiting for the elevator, his tie loosened and his pulse racing since the corner. He had a key, but he still knocked with his knuckles before entering, a formality that amused her.

“It’s open,” Salma’s voice called from inside.

He found her on the sofa, as on so many other afternoons. Naked, with a glass of red wine in her hand and her legs parted with a naturalness that still took his breath away. He could see everything: her shaved, glistening pussy, a thread of moisture already appearing between her lips, her nipples hard in the cool air of the living room. But that night, something was different—a dense, perfumed, electric tension.

She wasn’t alone.

***

“Damián, meet Renata,” Salma said without moving from the sofa. “She’s a friend. A very close friend.”

Renata rose slowly from the armchair in the shadows. She had a feline, almost dangerous beauty: brown skin, short hair shaved on one side, a smile that seemed to know everything in advance. Her body was more slender than Salma’s, less voluptuous but just as imposing: small, firm tits with dark nipples standing erect, a flat belly, a tuft of short black hair over her pubis. She moved like someone accustomed to being watched.

“So you’re the boy who stole Salma from me,” she said, licking her lower lip as she ran her eyes up and down him. “Let’s see if you’ve got it as tasty as she says.”

Damián swallowed. He felt heat rise up his neck, the familiar mix of shame and desire that this house provoked in him. He opened his mouth to say something clever, but nothing came out. He felt his cock pushing against his trousers, already half-hard, giving him away before he could pretend otherwise.

“Relax,” Salma whispered, finally getting to her feet. “Tonight you don’t have to do anything. Just let the two of us fuck you.”

***

Renata didn’t wait any longer. She crossed the living room in two long strides and knelt in front of him before Damián could process it. She loosened his belt with quick fingers, lowered his zipper, and yanked down his trousers and boxers in one pull. His cock sprang out hard and tense, the tip already pearled with precum. He had been hard since he saw the second silhouette in the shadows.

“Mmm. Interesting,” she murmured, and put it in her mouth without warning.

Damián exhaled sharply. Renata swallowed him whole, all the way down, until her nose bumped against his hair and he felt her throat close around his glans. She never looked away from his eyes. There was a challenge in that stare, a determination to prove something. She began sucking him with a slow, obscene rhythm, pulling nearly all the way out before plunging him back down to the bottom, cheeks hollowed as she sucked, strands of saliva running over his balls and onto the rug.

Behind her, Salma approached naked, bent down, and grabbed her friend’s tits from behind, pinching her nipples while Renata continued sucking with a calm, methodical fury. With her other hand, she lowered it to her own pussy and began touching herself, never taking her eyes off the way Renata devoured Damián’s cock.

“See how well she sucks you?” Salma said, her mouth pressed to his ear. “She takes the whole thing. Learn. You’re going to learn a lot tonight.”

Renata pulled his cock out with an obscene pop, spat on the glans, and took it back into her mouth, this time pumping it with her hand while she sucked. Damián felt that if he lasted thirty more seconds, he would come in her mouth. She noticed—because Renata noticed everything—and pulled away suddenly with a husky laugh, leaving him throbbing in the air.

“Not yet,” she told him. “You’re not going to come yet, sweetheart. No fucking way.”

The game began without pauses or formalities. Between them, they lay him down on the floor, on the living-room rug, and finished tearing off what clothes he had left. Soon he was stretched out on his back, torso bare, breathing unevenly, cock pointing at the ceiling while Renata straddled his face and Salma settled astride his shaft.

Their weight, their heat, their taste—all at once. Damián stopped thinking. Renata lowered her pussy onto his mouth and he stuck out his tongue instinctively, burying it between those hot, soaked lips, their taste strong and salty. He found her hard clitoris and began licking it in circles, hungry, while his hands moved up her brown thighs to grab her ass and pull her tighter against his face. Renata let out a guttural moan and rocked slowly, grinding against his tongue.

Lower down, Salma grabbed his cock, positioned it upright, and dropped onto it all at once, taking him to the hilt. Damián felt her pussy swallow him, tight, wet, burning, and nearly came from that alone. She stayed still for a second, eyes half-closed, savoring the feeling of having him completely inside her. Then she began riding him, rising until only the glans remained inside before slamming back down, again and again, her back arched and her tits bouncing.

Saliva, sweat, gasps. For the first time in his life he was licking a pussy while being ridden by another one at the same time, and the overload of sensations left him without thoughts, just blazing nerves and pleasure that kept rising without limit.

Renata moved over his mouth with quiet insistence, setting the pace, unhurried but relentless. Every so often she lowered a hand and spread her lips for him, exposing her swollen clitoris and ordering him softly, “There, there, don’t stop.” Salma, lower down, fucked him with her back arched and eyes half-closed, letting herself drop fully with every movement, squeezing her pussy around his cock each time she rose. From time to time the two of them reached for each other over his body, kissed with their tongues, grabbed each other’s tits, and laughed softly, while he lay beneath them as the center of a game he could barely understand. Whenever he thought he had caught his breath, one of them stole it again.

Renata came first. She gripped the back of the sofa with both hands, began grinding faster against Damián’s mouth, and suddenly let out a hoarse cry, squeezing his face between her thighs and soaking his chin and neck with a hot stream. Damián didn’t stop licking, not even when she shuddered and tugged his hair; he kept sucking her clitoris while Renata moaned, “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” and shook all over him.

Salma came right afterward, still riding him. He felt her pussy squeeze around his cock in waves, sink down to the bottom, and stay there, trembling, mouth open and eyes closed. Damián clenched his teeth to keep from coming too—one drop, one pulse, escaped him—but he held on.

***

After a while they changed positions. Salma sat in one of the armchairs facing him, crossed her legs, then slowly opened them, showing him her red, swollen pussy, still dripping from her orgasm. She beckoned him with one finger, drawing him toward her like a well-trained dog.

Damián turned and crawled across the rug, his cock swinging between his legs, hard and glossy with saliva and juices. He reached her crotch and began licking her from underneath, tracing that entire pussy that had become an obsession, a sweet and blessed addiction he no longer felt the slightest shame about. He licked it all, from bottom to top, buried his tongue inside to draw out what remained, moved up to her clitoris, and sucked it slowly, taking his time. Salma sank her fingers into his hair and sighed in satisfaction, moving his head to the rhythm she wanted.

“That’s it, sweetheart, just like that… good boy,” she murmured.

That was when he felt Renata move behind him.

“Stay right there,” she said in a low voice. “Don’t move, handsome.”

Damián felt a knee settle on the rug beside his thigh. He felt Renata’s firm hands parting his ass cheeks with a calm that allowed no protest. A second later, he felt warm saliva fall right there, in a place where he had never felt anything like it. Then a slick finger pushed slowly, entering him. He tried to turn around, but Salma had him by the nape, keeping his mouth full of pussy, with no possible escape.

I wouldn’t dare. I couldn’t. Not with this.

He did dare. Or rather, they made him dare.

***

Renata withdrew her finger, and he felt something else against his ass: something thicker, firmer, also coated in saliva and some cold gel she had just spread over it. A strap-on. That bitch had prepared everything before he even arrived. Damián let out a muffled moan against Salma’s pussy, half protest, half surrender.

“Shhh,” Salma said from above, stroking his hair. “Let her. Trust her. You’re going to freak out.”

Renata entered slowly, with a patience that contradicted the fire in her eyes. First there was only pressure, then burning, then something Damián couldn’t tell whether it was pain or the opposite. He let out another muffled whimper against Salma’s skin, more from surprise than anything else, and stayed very still, fists clenched on the rug and his whole body tense.

“Breathe,” Renata ordered from behind him. “Relax. Let go. All the way inside, that’s it, very good.”

He obeyed. He loosened his shoulders, released the breath he had been holding, and something inside him gave way along with it. The pressure changed. The burning became heat, the heat became a current running up his back and raising the hairs on his neck. Renata began moving with a slow, deep rhythm, sinking all the way in with every thrust, gripping his hips firmly to fuck him the way one woman fucks another, without mercy.

“Look how much you’re enjoying it, you little slut,” Salma murmured from above, holding his head and setting the rhythm with her own hips against his face. “You were mine. Tonight you’re hers too. Tongue right there, don’t stop licking.”

Damián couldn’t answer. His mouth was occupied, sucking Salma’s pussy with everything he had left while Renata fucked him from behind with increasingly long thrusts. His body was divided between two opposing pleasures, giving and receiving at the same time, and his mind was completely blank. His cock hung hard, leaking precum onto the rug, untouched by anyone, throbbing on its own to the rhythm of Renata’s movements.

***

Renata didn’t speak. She was focused, eyes closed, letting out only an occasional grunt when she sped up and a whispered “Fuck, what an ass” through clenched teeth. Damián learned to read her rhythm: when her thrusts became shorter and faster, she was close, even though she didn’t have a pussy on her cock, because the strap-on rubbed her clitoris every time she drove it into him. And when he noticed it, when he knew she was on the edge, a need of his own overwhelmed him as well.

He reached for his own cock and began jerking off in time with the rhythm Renata imposed, as if the three of them were a single coordinated mechanism: his tongue on Salma’s pussy, his ass open for Renata, his hand moving furiously over his shaft. He didn’t last long. Pleasure exploded from within him, a discharge that coursed through his entire body, his prostate squeezed by Renata’s thrusts, and he came in thick spurts onto the rug with a long moan he didn’t even try to hold back. It vibrated against Salma’s clitoris and made her shudder too.

Renata followed seconds later. She gripped his hips with both hands, drove into him twice more, deep and precise, and stayed there, trembling, her breathing broken by the effort and pleasure of the strap-on pressing against her clitoris. Damián felt every thrust, every spasm, until Renata’s body gradually relaxed and she slowly, carefully withdrew from him, leaving him open, throbbing, empty.

***

Salma had watched the entire scene from above, one hand in Damián’s hair and the other already moving down to her pussy again, like someone admiring a work of art. Her work of art. She moved away, rose from the armchair, lifted Damián’s face by the chin, and stood in front of him. She began masturbating with two fingers right there, barely a foot from his face, slowly at first, frenzied afterward, her eyes locked on his and an expression of pure lust on her face that he had never seen before, not even during their most intense afternoons. With her other hand she grabbed one tit, pinched the nipple, and licked the fingers soaked with her own juices.

“Open your mouth,” she told him. “Stick out your tongue. I want to see you.”

Damián obeyed, chin raised, mouth open, tongue out like a child asking for candy. Salma came across his face in convulsions, pressing her pussy against his open mouth at the last moment, soaking his tongue, chin, and neck, marking him, claiming him, never breaking eye contact. And Damián, instead of feeling ashamed as he would have weeks earlier, closed his eyes and swallowed everything, grateful, defeated, completely hers.

***

In the dense silence that followed, the three of them stayed still for a moment, listening to their breathing fall into rhythm. Then came the smiles, Renata’s first, then Salma’s, and finally his. All three kissed, without order or hierarchy, tongues mingling as they shared the taste of the night: pussy, semen, saliva, and red wine.

“Welcome to the club,” Renata said, giving him a gentle bite on the shoulder. “There’s no going back now, sweetheart.”

Damián laughed softly, still dazed, his heart beating in his ears and his face sticky. There was no going back, that was true, and for the first time the idea didn’t frighten him. He had discovered that surrender could be his most honest way of desiring.

They got up amid quiet laughter, their legs still trembling, and crossed the living room toward the shower. Damián walked between them, feeling semen trickle down his thigh, his ass still throbbing, his cock waking again despite everything. Something in him had changed permanently; another door had opened, and it would never close all the way again.

And as the hot water began to run and both women’s hands went searching for him beneath the spray again—one hand on his cock, another between his buttocks, fingers in his mouth—he knew it wasn’t an ending. They were only just beginning. Many other nights followed that one, each going farther than the last. But that, as they say, is another story.