The Surprise My Wife Had Hidden Under the Pillow

From that night on, once again, some things changed between us. What had for years been a routine sex life, with a frequency that left quite a bit to be desired, had turned into a continuous ecstasy. I was permanently aroused. It was normal for us to have some kind of intimate exchange two or three times a day.

And yet, penetration became less and less frequent. Our play drifted elsewhere: the use of nylon stockings, kisses in places we’d never even mentioned before, endless oral sex, all kinds of stimulation. I would finish at night in a copious, almost exaggerated way, and the next morning I was already thinking about the next time.

I already told you I had become a kind of nylon addict. I wore pantyhose under my street clothes, without anyone knowing, and I felt that fabric tightening against my skin like a secret. But now something else had been added: I had become addicted to giving Mariela oral sex, and to receiving from her tongue the stimulation of my entrance. Needless to say, I kept myself completely shaved. I told myself it was because of the pleasant feeling of putting on the stockings over smooth skin. That wasn’t entirely true, but the lie was comfortable.

All it took was for her to make an insinuating move, with the slightest gesture, for me to get on all fours and offer her my backside to lick. I did it without thinking, almost like a reflex, as if my body responded before my mind did.

Another thing that changed was the dreams. The general theme was always the same: two women on either side of my bed, brushing their bodies against mine, sheathed in nylon. But it seemed that with every new practice we added while awake, a new fantasy appeared while I slept.

Almost every night I dreamed the same thing. Me in my bed, the two women in stockings, one of them offering me her entrance so I could kiss her while the other jerked me off through the pantyhose I invariably wore in the dream.

That week, however, a new element was added. While I kissed one of them, the other masturbated me without ever letting me reach the finish, and at the same time began to explore my entrance with one of her fingers. It wasn’t exactly the same dream every night. Sometimes one woman kissed the other. Sometimes they put me on all fours and, while I licked one, the second one licked me and then began to slide a finger inside.

And sometimes it wasn’t a finger. Over the course of the week, little vibrators started appearing with which they stimulated me, and they grew larger from one night to the next. On one occasion I even dreamed they inserted a small plug in me, and while I felt it pressing inside me I was getting massages on my genitals and, of course, licking the other woman.

What was always the same was the litany I heard while all of that was happening:

—Feels so good, doesn’t it?

—Wouldn’t you like to have an orgasm like this?

—If I stimulate your prostate, you’ll come without anyone even touching you.

—Such a waste not to take advantage of a body like yours.

—See there’s a whole world of sensations you don’t even dare explore?

—Don’t you want to try something new?

Those are some of the phrases I remember. The thing is, without fail, I’d wake up terribly aroused and desperate to find some kind of relief. The sheet tangled around me, my breathing ragged, my heart pounding against my chest.

I have to confess something to you. More than once, while I showered in the morning and masturbated looking for that relief, I surprised myself exploring my own entrance with a couple of fingers. I can’t lie to you: I loved it. Exploring myself with my fingers while I touched myself was at once sensational, because of the pleasure it gave me, and unsatisfying, because I came too quickly and was left with the certainty that something was missing.

Those stimulation dreams repeated for several days. Every morning I woke with the suspicion that Mariela knew more than she was saying, as if in some way she could see what was happening inside my head while I slept. I would watch her make coffee in the kitchen, still disheveled, and wonder how much of it was coincidence and how much was a plan she was putting together patiently, piece by piece, without rushing.

I didn’t say anything to her. Partly out of shame and partly because, deep down, I didn’t want her to stop. There was a current between us that hadn’t existed before, a tension that filled the silences in the house, and I found myself waiting for night with an anxiety I hadn’t felt since the first months we were dating. Until one night it happened.

***

We were in the middle of our usual play. I got on all fours, eager for that tongue I already knew by heart. I felt her kissing me and started to moan softly, lost in the sensation, until at one point I saw her reach out and take something that was hidden under the pillow. A moment later I felt a cold liquid running over me.

—What are you doing? —I asked, turning my head slightly.

—Relax. It’s a surprise, and I’m sure you’re going to like it.

She started stroking my entrance with her fingers, with a patience that unraveled me, until finally I felt one slide inside me. I then deduced, with admirable clarity, that what she had put on me was lubricant. Brilliant deduction on my part.

She kept playing with the finger, going in and out slowly, and I can assure you she was right. I liked it. I liked it a lot. I surrendered to those new sensations, my face buried in the pillow, until at one point I realized, to my surprise, that there was no longer one finger inside me but two.

After a while she put her hand back under the pillow. What else is this woman keeping in there, for God’s sake?, I thought. And almost immediately I felt something a little more substantial than a finger at my entrance. The pressure eased, a little more lubricant came, and the pressure returned. That repeated three or four times. I don’t remember it exactly, because by then the game had become too fascinating for me to keep count.

—There. That’s it. Do you like it? —she asked.

—What did you do?

—Didn’t you like it?

—I loved it. I’m asking out of curiosity what you did.

—Right now you’ve got an anal plug inside you. The smallest one I found, since it was your first time. I knew you’d like it.

—And you were right —I said, feeling the pressure of the toy fixed inside me, a strange and delicious fullness at the same time.

—But don’t think you’re going to be the only one enjoying this. I bought two.

I understood immediately that this was an invitation. That the other one was for her, and now it was my turn. I settled between her legs and started licking her entrance, trying to relax her. We had never done anything like that on that side before, and I figured I had to be careful, gentle, go slowly to open her up for the first time.

Just like her, I took some gel. While I licked her clit, I began spreading it over her entrance, stroking the opening with my fingers, waiting for her to yield, and very slowly sliding one of my fingers inside.

Once inside, I started moving it, in and out slowly, without stopping stimulating her with my tongue. She was breathing harder and harder.

—Put it in already, I can’t take it anymore —she told me, desperate.

—Patience. These moments have to be enjoyed —was my answer. I confess I liked, for once, having control of the pace.

Then I took the plug, which in fact was only a little bigger than a finger, lubed it well and, just as she had done with me, pressed it against her entrance. I applied a light pressure and waited for her body to open and accept the toy. Before long it was all the way inside. I began to pull it out very slowly and understood, by its shape, that it stayed firmly secured inside her without needing to be held.

There we were, the two of us, each with a plug in place, looking at each other in the dim light with a new kind of complicity. That was when I penetrated her. And while I did, she played with the plug in my entrance, moving it, pulling it out a little, putting it back in. They were all unknown sensations, one on top of the other, and I was truly feeling a pleasure I had never felt in my entire life.

I wasn’t thinking about anything. I wasn’t ashamed of anything. There was only that: the heat of her body, the fullness inside mine, her hand that knew exactly what to do. I came with an intensity that left me trembling, and she a moment later, clinging to my back.

When we finished making love, we fell asleep beside each other, both of us still wearing the plug. And before closing my eyes I thought that those dreams of the two women wrapped in nylon were no longer just dreams. That something of all that, every night, was becoming real.

I didn’t know how far that road would take me. I only knew I didn’t want to get off it.