The Surprise My Wife Hid Under the Pillow

From that night onward, once again, some things changed between us. What for years had been a routine sex life, with a frequency that left quite a lot to be desired, had transformed into a continuous state of ecstasy. I was permanently aroused, with my cock half-hard for much of the day, and all Mariela had to do was brush against me as she passed through the kitchen for it to become fully hard. It was normal for us to have some kind of intimate exchange two or three times a day: a quick blowjob before breakfast, one of her fingers slipping under my clothes in the middle of the afternoon, a long, filthy session at night.

And yet penetration was becoming less and less frequent. Our games were turning in other directions: the use of nylon stockings, kisses in places we had never even named before, endless oral sex, all kinds of stimulation. She sucked my cock for hours, with an artisan's patience, licking the head with her lips drawn tight and then moving down to the base to lick my balls one by one, while I writhed on the bed wearing my stockings. I came copiously during the night, almost excessively, jets and jets of semen that she swallowed or let fall onto her tits so she could rub them over my face afterward, and by the next morning I was already thinking about the next time.

I already told you that I had become some kind of nylon addict. I wore pantyhose under my street clothes without anyone knowing, feeling that fabric tighten against my skin like a secret, pressing my cock against my thigh every time I walked. But now something else had been added: I had become addicted to giving Mariela oral sex, to burying my face between her thighs and eating her pussy until she screamed, and to receiving the stimulation of her tongue at my entrance, that hot, pointed tongue slipping into a place no one had ever touched before. Needless to say, I kept myself completely shaved, my cock, balls, and ass smooth as a boy's. I convinced myself it was because of the pleasant sensation of pulling the stockings over smooth skin. That wasn't entirely true, but the lie was comfortable.

All she had to do was hint at something, with the slightest gesture, and I would get on all fours on the bed, my ass spread wide and exposed, offering her my backside to lick. I did it without thinking, almost reflexively, as though my body responded before my mind. And she took her time: first she kissed my buttocks, then she pulled my cheeks apart with both hands and licked me from my balls to my hole, soaking me in saliva, until she began to drive the tip of her tongue in there, circling the edge and pushing inward. I buried my face in the pillow so I wouldn't scream like a bitch.

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

Almost every night I dreamed the same thing. Me in my bed, the two women wearing stockings, one of them offering me her wet pussy so I could kiss it and eat it thoroughly while the other grabbed my cock and masturbated me through the pantyhose I invariably wore in the dream. I felt the fabric grow wet with my own pre-cum while the other hand rubbed my cock over the nylon, up and down, never letting me finish.

That week, however, a new element was added. While I kissed one of them, my tongue buried between her lips and her clitoris throbbing in my mouth, the other masturbated me without ever letting me reach the end, while at the same time beginning to explore my entrance with one of her fingers. First a brush, barely a caress with a wet fingertip; then pressure, an inch inside, two, shaking me from within while she squeezed my cock with her other hand. It wasn't exactly the same dream every night. Sometimes one kissed the other, their tongues fighting over my improvised pussy. Sometimes they put me on all fours and, while I licked one of them, burying my nose in her perfumed asshole, the second calmly licked me, soaking my hole, and then began inserting an entire finger up to the knuckle.

And sometimes it wasn't a finger. Over the course of the week, small vibrators began appearing, stimulating me by buzzing against the edge of my ass before they slipped them inside me, growing larger from one night to the next. Once I even dreamed they put a small plug in me, and while I felt it driving into me, opening me up and forcing me to surrender, I received massages on my genitals from two hands gloved in nylon and, of course, licked the other woman with my tongue so far out that my jaw hurt.

What never changed was the litany I heard while all that was happening:

—It feels so good, doesn't it?

—Wouldn't you like to have an orgasm like this, without anyone touching your cock?

—If I stimulate your prostate, you'll come without anyone touching you, squirting like a little girl.

—What a waste not to take advantage of an ass like yours.

—You see how there's a whole world of sensations you're afraid to explore?

—Don't you want to try something new, something bigger?

Those are some of the phrases I remember. The thing is, without fail, I woke up with my cock rock-hard against my navel and frantic to find some kind of relief. The sheet tangled between my legs, my breathing ragged, my heart pounding against my chest, the wet stain of pre-cum soaking the waistband of my stockings.

I have to confess something to you. More than once, while showering in the morning and masturbating in search of relief, with hot water falling over the back of my neck, I caught myself exploring my own entrance with a couple of fingers. I coated my fingers with soap, braced one hand against the tiles, and with the other spread my ass to put in one finger first, then two, moving them in circles and curling them forward in search of that spot Mariela talked about in my dreams. I can't lie to you: I loved it. Exploring myself with my fingers while I jerked off was at once sensational, because of the pleasure it gave me, and unsatisfying, because I reached the end too quickly, splattering the wall with jets of milk, and was left with the certainty that something bigger, something deeper, was missing.

Those stimulation dreams continued for several days. Every morning I woke with the suspicion that Mariela knew more than she let on, as though somehow she could see what was happening inside my head while I slept. I watched her make coffee in the kitchen, still disheveled, her robe hanging open with one tit showing, and wondered how much of it all was coincidence and how much was a plan she was patiently putting together, piece by piece, without rushing.

I said nothing to her. Partly out of embarrassment 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 filling the silences in the house, and I found myself waiting for night with an anxiety I hadn't felt since the first months of our courtship. Until one night it happened.

***

We were in the middle of our usual games. She wore black stockings pulled up to her waist, and I was wearing mine too, my cock already showing through the fabric. I pulled my pantyhose down to mid-thigh, got on all fours, and presented my ass with my legs spread wide, eager to receive that tongue I already knew by heart. I felt her open my cheeks with her hands and lick me up and down, calmly at first and hungrily afterward, driving the tip of her tongue into my hole and pushing inside. I began moaning softly, lost in the sensation, moving my hips backward to ask for more, until at one point I saw her reach out and take something hidden beneath the pillow. An instant later I felt a cold liquid running over me, pouring down the crack of my ass and trickling to my balls.

—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 began caressing my hole with her fingers, spreading the gel in circles around the edge, with a patience that undid me, until I finally felt her insert one finger inside me. It went all the way in without resistance, because I was already open from all that licking and all those desires. I deduced then, with admirable insight, that what she had put on me was lubricant. Brilliant deduction on my part.

She kept playing with her finger, moving slowly in and out, curling it inside to touch me right there, at that spot that made me squeeze my eyes shut and bite the pillow. A moan escaped me every time she pushed deep. I can assure you, she was right. I liked it. I liked it very much. I surrendered to those new sensations, my face buried in the pillow and my ass raised like a bitch in heat, until at one point I realized, surprised, that there was no longer one finger inside me but two. She moved them in a scissors motion, opening me and stretching me, while with her other hand she gripped my cock and slowly stroked it, just enough to keep me on the edge. I no longer knew whether to push my ass backward against her fingers or forward against her fist.

—Loosen up, love —she whispered—. Relax your little ass for me.

After a while she reached under the pillow again. What else could this woman be keeping under there, for God's sake? I thought. And almost immediately I felt an object in my hole, somewhat more substantial than a finger, cold and hard, with a rounded tip pushing as if asking permission. The pressure gave way; it entered an inch, two, and she withdrew it. More lubricant poured inside me, and the pressure returned, deeper this time. That happened three or four times. I don't remember exactly, because by then the game was fascinating me too much to keep count. At one point I felt the thickest part of the toy forcing its way past the ring, a tug, a brief burn, and then incredible fullness when the ring closed behind the base.

—There. It's done. Do you like it? —she asked, giving me a gentle slap on the ass.

—What did you do?

—Didn't you like it?

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

—Right now you have an anal plug up your ass. The smallest one I could find, since it's your first time. I knew you would like it.

—And you were right —I said, feeling the toy fixed inside me, its base pressing between my cheeks, a strange and delicious fullness at the same time that forced me to squeeze my thighs together.

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

I immediately understood that this was an invitation. The other one was for her, and now it was my turn. She turned around, got on all fours, and showed me everything: her open, glistening pussy, and higher up her tightly closed little asshole, still untouched on that side. I settled between her legs and began licking the entrance to her ass, trying to relax her. We had never done anything remotely like that from that side before, and I assumed I needed to be careful, gentle, and slow to stretch her for the first time. I drove my tongue into her, pushed it in, moved it in circles, while with two fingers I spread her pussy and gathered up her wetness to smear around her hole.

Just as she had done, I took some gel and put it on my hand. While I sucked her clitoris with my lips, that swollen button throbbing in my mouth, I began spreading it over her asshole, caressing the puckered opening with my fingers, waiting for it to yield, and inserting one of my fingers very slowly. She flinched and then let out a long, high-pitched moan.

—Oh, fuck —she said through clenched teeth—. Keep going, keep going slowly.

Once I was inside, I began moving my finger, slowly going in and out, feeling that incredibly tight ring gradually loosen around my finger, while I continued licking her pussy with my tongue laid flat. Her breathing grew heavier and heavier; she pushed her ass backward and rubbed herself against my face.

—Put it in already, I can't take it anymore —she said desperately, her voice hoarse—. Fuck me with it, come on.

—Patience. You have to enjoy these moments —was my reply. I confess that, for once, I liked being in control of the pace and seeing her beg me the way I had begged her so many times.

Then I took the plug, which was actually only a little bigger than a finger, coated it thoroughly in lubricant until it was dripping, and, just as she had done with me, pressed it against her entrance. I applied slight pressure and waited for her body to open and accept the toy. She pushed too, cooperating, and little by little the plug went in: the tip first, then the thick part, a small whimper when the ring gave way, and finally the base remained outside, with the rest deep inside. I began moving it very slowly, pulling it out an inch and sinking it back in, and from its shape I understood that it was firmly secured inside her without needing to be held.

There we were, both of us with our plugs in, looking at each other in the half-light with a new complicity between us. She turned onto her back, spread her legs wrapped in black nylon, and showed me her soaked, gleaming pussy, her swollen clitoris throbbing between her lips. That was when I penetrated her. I drove my cock into her in a single thrust, all the way to the bottom, and we both cried out: me because the plug shifted inside me with every thrust, pressing against my prostate; her because hers made her feel doubly full, my cock in front and the toy behind.

And while I fucked her, with her legs crossed over my back, her hands reached toward my ass and found the base of the plug. She began playing with it, moving it, pulling it out a little, twisting it, then pushing it back in. Every time she sank it into me, I thrust forward and drove my cock into her all the way to the last inch. They were all unfamiliar sensations, one layered over another: the tight wetness of her pussy swallowing my cock, the hard weight of the plug inside me answering every stroke of her hand, the stocking fabric rasping against my thighs, her tits bouncing every time I slammed into her. I was truly feeling a pleasure I had never experienced in my entire life.

I wasn't thinking about anything. I wasn't ashamed of anything. Only that existed: the heat of her body, the fullness inside mine, her hand knowing exactly what to do, the wet, filthy sound of our bodies colliding. I felt it coming from deep inside me, from a place I hadn't known existed, and when she yanked the plug out of me at exactly the right moment, I came with an intensity that left me trembling, shooting jet after jet of semen inside her pussy, so many that I felt it beginning to run down her buttocks. A moment later she came too, clinging to my back with her nails dug in, screaming something I didn't understand, squeezing my cock with the walls of her pussy so hard that she wrung out the last drop.

We lay still for a while, joined together, panting. Then she calmly put the plug back inside herself, without saying a word, smiling. When we finished fucking, we fell asleep beside each other, both of us still wearing our plugs, feeling them there, a silent reminder of what had just happened. And before closing my eyes, I thought that those dreams of the two women clad in nylon weren't quite dreams anymore. That some part of all that, every night, was becoming real.

I didn't know where that road would take me. I only knew I didn't want to get off.