I Knew My Friend Was Watching Us, Pretending to Sleep

Diego and I had been together for several months, and what we had was built on solid ground, the kind of thing that doesn’t happen by accident. The sex was on another level, but what really made us accomplices was the habit of whispering our fantasies to each other, right in the middle of the act, when neither of us had any filter and said exactly what we were thinking.

One of those nights he confessed his. He said it slowly, his mouth pressed to my ear while he moved inside me.

—Imagine it’s the three of us —he murmured—. You, me, and another woman.

At first it seemed crazy to me. But every time he brought it up again, I could feel him harden, and that brutally honest reaction from his body ended up rubbing off on me. The idea, which I had rejected at first, started growing inside me like a seed I couldn’t stop watering.

—Some day —I told him then, without committing to anything.

But I already knew who I was going to call.

***

The opportunity came on its own. Camila, a college friend who had moved south, texted me to say she was coming to the city to take an entrance exam for a new program. She needed somewhere to stay for a couple of nights, and without thinking twice, I offered her my place.

I’d known Camila for years, and I also knew that side of her that loosened up after a couple too many drinks. Sober, she was cautious, measured, almost shy. But after the third drink she transformed: she laughed loudly, looked at people differently, and said no to almost nothing. Of course, I still hadn’t told Diego that part.

—Let’s do something this weekend —I suggested to her over the phone—. There are some beaches nearby, with a camping area. We’ll take the tent, make a barbecue, relax.

—I love it —she answered—. It’s been ages since I got away from everything.

On Saturday Diego picked us up early. I introduced them at the front door of the house and everything flowed naturally: light conversation, music in the car, the heat coming in through the windows. Nothing in the atmosphere gave away what I’d been scheming for days.

We got there at noon. Diego set up the tent, a big one, made for several people, so the three of us fit easily. While he finished with the stakes, Camila and I went to the changing rooms to put on our swimsuits.

And that was when I really saw her properly for the first time in a long time.

The bitch had a body to die for. I’m thin, with hardly any curves, and I’d always been a little envious of her figure: a tiny waist, pronounced hips, a firm ass that seemed to defy gravity. She put on a two-piece bikini that fit her perfectly, as if it had been sewn onto her. I looked at myself in the mirror next to her and laughed at my own envy.

When we got back to the tent, Diego whistled at both of us with a smile, but I knew him too well. I saw his eyes slide over to her and saw him try to hide it a second later by looking away. He didn’t need to say anything. I knew then that the plan was underway.

***

We spent the afternoon in the water, the three of us chatting, comfortable, laughing at anything and everything. Diego didn’t stop sneaking looks at Camila from under the brim of his cap, thinking nobody noticed. I noticed everything. And I liked it.

—I’m hungry —I said after a while—. Let’s get out and light the fire.

While Diego took care of the barbecue, Camila and I sat on a blanket with ice-cold beers. I started slowly, talking about him as if by accident: how attentive he was, how well he fucked, the things he did to me. At first Camila listened only half-heartedly, distracted by the scenery. But as the sun went down and the alcohol went up, she was the one who started asking questions.

—And do you guys do it often? —she wanted to know, with a crooked smile—. Have you tried everything?

—Almost everything —I told her, baiting the hook.

—Tell me —she insisted, leaning closer.

I told her just enough to get her going. She, drink after drink, kept getting more and more curious, looser, bolder. She asked me things she would never have dared ask sober. I answered everything in detail, feeling the conversation heat us both up. The sky turned orange, then violet, and by the time night fell Camila was already pretty tipsy.

—You look kind of wrecked —I told her, pretending to worry—. Let’s go to the tent, lie down for a while.

The two of us went inside while Diego gathered the empty bottles outside. Camila lay down on her sleeping bag and closed her eyes, letting fatigue and drunkenness take over. Or so it seemed.

***

When Diego came in, he pulled down the tent zipper and settled beside me in the dim light. The only light was from the campfire filtering through the fabric, an orange glow moving with the wind. Camila was an arm’s length away, with her back to us, breathing deeply.

I started stroking him slowly over his clothes. He went rigid.

—She’s right there —he whispered, almost voiceless.

—She’s asleep —I whispered back in his ear, and slid my hand down until I found him already hard under his shorts.

That was the only negotiation we needed. I freed him from the fabric and leaned down to take him in my mouth, unhurried. I made a point of being noisy, those wet, deliberate sounds I knew would travel through the silence of the tent. Because I’d been watching her too, and something about Camila’s too-perfect stillness wasn’t sitting right with me. Nobody breathes that heavily when they’re really asleep.

I kept going for a good while, watching her out of the corner of my eye between strokes. And then I saw her move. Just barely. A tiny, almost clandestine gesture: her hand slid under the sleeping bag, toward her cunt, and started moving in slow circles. She wasn’t asleep. She was listening to us. She was spying on us, pretending to sleep, and getting turned on by every sound I gave her.

That certainty lit me on fire.

I felt Diego on the verge of exploding, so I climbed on top of him and started riding him slowly. Pressed against his ear, as I moved, I told him what I’d been wanting to tell him for months.

—Don’t you want to fuck her? —I murmured—. She’s right here, watching us. Your fantasy came true.

—How, if she’s asleep? —he gasped, hotter than I’d ever seen him.

As my answer, I took his hand and guided it to Camila’s ass, over the sleeping bag. He stroked her, first with fear, then with desire. And then Camila stopped pretending.

She rolled over slowly and looked at us in the darkness, her eyes shining and her breathing fast.

—You want it, don’t you? —I told him, still on top of Diego—. I saw you touching yourself while you were listening to us.

She didn’t deny it. She bit her lip and gave a tiny nod, and that was all the invitation we needed.

***

I got off Diego and made room for him. He turned toward Camila without taking his eyes off me, asking my permission one last time. I gave it to him with a gesture. He kissed her neck, pulled down the bottom of the bikini she still had on, and bent down between her legs. Camila was moaning softly, holding back, and I watched from the side, torn between excitement and a stab of jealousy that alcohol and desire finally drowned out.

—Come here —Diego told her, without stopping—. Return the favor to your friend.

I lay back and Camila positioned herself between my legs while Diego got behind her. I felt her mouth, still timid, growing more confident with every second. It was strange and dizzying to feel my friend like that, to discover she had a skill I never would have guessed. When Diego entered her from behind, Camila moaned against me and the vibration went through my whole body.

—Ari’s right —she said, lifting her face for a moment—. You fuck incredibly.

—And that’s not even all —Diego answered, gripping her hips.

We changed positions several times, fitting the three of us into that cramped space as if we’d rehearsed it. At one point, while I was kissing Camila, she asked me for something I hadn’t expected.

—Get your friend ready —Diego told Camila, playing with the dynamic that had formed between the two of us.

But it was me who got Camila ready. I laid her on her side, eased her open patiently, with my fingers and with my mouth, until the last trace of modesty vanished from her face. When I felt she was ready, I guided Diego to her. Camila resisted for just a second, and then gave in with a long sigh.

—Slowly —she asked.

—Easy —he replied, and sank in little by little while I stroked her hair.

I stayed pressed close to them, watching everything up close, which was what I liked most. Diego moved with a slow, deep rhythm, and Camila’s moans rose in pitch until they became something else.

—I love the way you do it —she murmured, her face buried in the improvised pillow—. I don’t want you to stop.

I came several times just from watching them, from being both participant and witness at once. When Diego started losing control, Camila stretched out a hand and reached for me.

—Do you let him? —she asked me, breathless—. Do you let him finish with me?

—Of course I let him —I told her, and gave her a long kiss just as he came.

Diego let out a rough groan, muffled against Camila’s shoulder, and the three of us stayed tangled together, breathless, listening to the crackle of the campfire outside and the wind moving the tent fabric.

***

Nobody said much after that. It wasn’t necessary. Camila curled up on one side, me on the other, Diego in the middle, and we fell asleep like that, pressed together, still hot from what had just happened.

The next morning we had breakfast like nothing had happened, laughing about the hangover, commenting on the cold of the early morning. But there was a look between Camila and me while we washed the mate gourds in the river that said everything.

—That wasn’t the last time, was it? —she asked, without looking at me.

I smiled and didn’t answer. But we both knew the reply. That weekend was only the beginning.