My Boyfriend Wanted to Watch Me With His Best Friend

Sex with Mateo had been the best of my life for years, since the first night, when we were still two kids: me, freshly twenty, and him, twenty-three.

I met Mateo at Subsuelo, a bar in Chacarita where I went one random night wanting something to happen. I remember showing up in my best version of myself: a black crop top that left my back bare, a short leather skirt, and heeled boots that made me walk like the place was mine. I barely wore any makeup, except for my lips, always red, and a thin line around my eyes to make them stand out. Mateo still swears I was the prettiest girl he saw that night, that he was stunned the moment I crossed his path. I didn’t even notice him until he worked up the nerve to come up to me, and he did it with a calm none of the others had.

Before him, several guys had come up to me, some quite a bit older, all with the same idea of taking me to a motel. One even dared to ask me to suck him off right there, in a corner of the bar. If I’d had two more drinks, maybe I wouldn’t have told him no: with a few drinks in me, my willpower goes soft, it’s my weak spot. I’d even been eyeing a guy sitting at a table with his friends. But that night the prize went to Mateo.

We ended up at a hotel three blocks away, just before the bar closed, and that’s where it all started: tangled in the sheets, then under the shower, then in front of the mirror, looking at each other as if we were discovering something. Mateo fucked me with the hunger of someone who had been saving himself for a woman he, and I both knew without saying it, was going to stay with for a long time.

And that’s how it was. Six years of dating went by and we became inseparable. The relationship was good, healthy; I got that lucky. The man before him, the one I lost my virginity to, was an unbearable manipulator who questioned my clothes, my schedule, even the “likes” I put on a photo. He only had one thing going for him, and that’s why it took me so long to leave: it was huge. But when I left him and met Mateo, I understood that such a size wasn’t necessary for my legs to shake. Mateo always knew what to whisper in my ear, how to grab me, when not to let me win. He knew that the fight to be the one in charge was half the game, that he had to bend me a little so I’d beg him for the rest.

That’s why, when I started noticing him withdrawn at the beginning of last year, I got scared. At first I thought he’d lost his desire, that he didn’t like me anymore. Weird, because at twenty-six I’m better than ever: the hours at the gym gave me a body I used to be too shy to show off. I saw him distracted, somewhere else, and that gnawed at me.

One night, stretched out on the bed in front of a bad movie, I settled on his chest and started touching him over his pants. He reacted right away, but his gaze kept drifting toward some distant point on the wall.

“You’ve been acting weird lately,” I finally blurted, folding my arms over him. “Is there something you need to tell me?”

Mateo stayed quiet, thinking for a few seconds. Then he let it out:

“Yeah. I have to confess something, babe.”

My mind went to the worst possible place. There’s someone else. He’s not turned on by me anymore. He realized he likes men. I took a deep breath and braced myself for the blow.

“Go on, say it. I’ll try to understand.”

I wasn’t prepared for what he said. Not in a million years.

“I have this fantasy of seeing you with another man.”

I stared into those almost liquid blue eyes. I lifted my head just a little.

“What?”

He gave a nervous little laugh. He must have expected me to jump up in indignation and walk out. I didn’t. I stayed there, looking at him, unable to believe those words were coming out of the same lips that kissed every inch of me every night.

“Are you serious?”

He nodded. His gaze looked guilty, but steady.

“Since when?”

“Since always. Since I met you, you’ve turned me on so much that… I don’t know if it’s a kink or what, but more than once I’ve gotten myself off imagining you with another guy. In this bed.”

My heart lurched. Every word moved him a little farther away from the man I thought I knew. And yet the idea didn’t disgust me. I started turning it over in my head, and I was glad it wasn’t what I’d imagined. There isn’t someone else. He didn’t stop loving me. As I processed it, the whole thing got more and more… interesting.

“A kink thing,” I repeated.

“Something like that,” he said.

“And you think that wouldn’t be bad for us? As a couple, I mean.”

He shrugged, more relaxed now that he saw I wasn’t running for the door.

“I’ve been reading about it. I thought it was sick, but it turns out it’s more common than you’d think, especially in long-term couples. They say it even helps when the relationship starts to wear down.”

“And ours has worn down?”

“No, no,” he rushed to say. “It’s what the people who know say. It even has a name.”

He furrowed his brow, searching for the word, and explained to me, all tangled up, that he enjoyed seeing me with someone else, that the turn-on was imagining me having a better time with a stranger than with him. I listened, feeling like an idiot for never having heard anything like it. But it made sense.

“Everybody happy,” I murmured.

“Exactly,” he smiled, mischievous.

I couldn’t hold back my laugh and buried my face in his belly.

“We don’t have to do it, babe. You wanted to know what was going on with me. It’s this.”

“I mean… I think we could do it.”

His eyes went huge and he leaned in until our noses touched.

“Really?”

I nodded.

“But wait: with who? I’m not going to sleep with just anyone to indulge you.”

“Of course not. In fact, I already have a candidate.”

“Oh yeah? Who?”

“Bruno.”

Again, the surprise left me speechless. Bruno was one of his lifelong friends. He’d been in the group that night at Subsuelo; I’d thought he was cute when I saw him next to Mateo, before my boyfriend came up to me, but I hadn’t paid him any more attention. He lived at the gym, took photos of himself in the mirror flexing, and was always in a tank top. He was smooth-talking, that much was true, and he took a different girl to bed every week. I’d always suspected there wasn’t much behind all that body. But there had to be something.

“So? What do you think of the idea?” Mateo asked, not taking his eyes off me.

“It’s going to be weird. He’s your friend.”

“Yeah, I know. Exactly because of that. He’s not a stranger.”

I stayed quiet for a long while.

“Let me think about it, okay?”

“Of course. Whatever you decide, I’ll respect it.”

I kissed him. That night the movie ended without either of us knowing what it was about. We fucked for a while and fell asleep. Well, he fell asleep. I stayed awake for more than an hour, turning it over in my head. It was risky and tempting at the same time. And risky had always tempted me.

***

In the morning I woke up alone. Mateo had already left for work. I found myself naked among the tangled sheets, with that smell of night still hanging around. The first thought of the day came straight in: So we’re going to do it? I’m going to be with his friend while he watches?

And then came the other thoughts, the dirtier ones. Is he big or was I right? Am I going to have to suck him off? What if he asks for more?

I was late realizing that, while I was reciting those questions in my head, I already had two fingers inside me. A moan slipped out of me. I bit my lip and curled up in a fetal position.

“Bruno…” I said under my breath, almost without meaning to.

I pulled my hand out, wiped myself with a tissue, and grabbed my phone in one swipe. I opened Mateo’s chat and typed: “Babe, I woke up super horny. Talk to your friend and tell him what we discussed. I’m in.” And below that: “Text me when you can. Love you.”

I put the phone down and knelt on the bed. With one hand I stroked myself, with the other I looked up Bruno’s Instagram. Luckily it was open. I scrolled past photos with friends, selfies in different places, until I found the one I wanted: him facing front, muscles tensed, eyes serious. I imagined him on this same bed, prying my legs open, going in slowly at first and then without mercy. I could almost feel him.

The fantasy was cut off by the sound of my phone. A message from Mateo: “It turns me on so much that you agreed. I’m talking to him now.”

***

The weekend came, and with it the anxiety. We made plans for Saturday afternoon. According to Mateo, Bruno’s reaction had been the same as mine: first confusion, then curiosity. He had to explain the same thing to him that he explained to me. And in the end, he said yes.

“I don’t know if you’re crazy or bored,” he’d replied, “but looking at your girlfriend, who’s going to say no?”

I blushed when Mateo repeated it, even though it was nothing I hadn’t been told before. The difference was the context.

At three-thirty the buzzer rang. We looked at the camera and confirmed it was him standing outside. Mateo went down to get him and I got ready. I decided the first impression had to be final: the shortest skirt, a white off-the-shoulder top that showed my navel, red lips, a perfume I almost never wore. I looked in the mirror and knew I was ready. Then I sat down on the sofa with a bored expression, as if all of it had been casual and not calculated to the millimeter.

They came in laughing, probably talking about soccer. It took them a while to cut the conversation and come over.

“Babe,” Mateo said, excited, “Bruno’s here.”

I turned my head slowly. Bruno was wearing a black tank top and shorts that showed off his worked legs.

“Hi,” I said.

“Hi,” he replied, his voice a little stuck.

I crossed my legs calmly, leaned forward just enough to show my cleavage. Bruno licked his lips without realizing it. Then he looked at Mateo with the face of a guy who can’t believe his luck.

“So, are we doing this now, or…?”

Mateo smiled.

“I’d say yes. Look at her: she’s acting all innocent, but she was getting herself ready before we came up.”

My boyfriend knew me well. I stood up, adjusted my skirt, sighed. I went around the sofa, rested a hand on Bruno’s chest, and told him:

“Let’s go to the bedroom.”

We went in, I turned on the light, and sat on the bed. I patted the mattress for him to sit beside me. He did, slowly regaining his confidence. We looked at each other in silence and he put his hand on my thigh, near the edge of my skirt.

Mateo had stayed standing a few steps away, watching us.

“Babe, don’t just stand there. Bring a chair or something to get comfortable.”

“You’re right,” he said, and went to get one.

By the time he came back, Bruno and I were already kissing. Slowly, unhurriedly, getting acquainted. He had fresh breath, without the cigarette smell Mateo always had. He grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me toward him, while his other hand slid up my leg. Goose bumps rose all over my skin. Heat dropped straight to the center of my body.

Two thick fingers pushed the fabric aside and touched me. I stopped kissing him; I couldn’t focus on anything but breathing in short bursts.

“Do you like it?” he asked.

I looked at him with half-closed eyes and nodded. I kissed him harder. His fingers didn’t stop. A moan escaped me, a little cry. I opened one eye and looked for Mateo. He was seated, staring at me fixedly, his pants already unzipped, touching himself slowly so he wouldn’t finish too soon.

Seeing him like that turned me on even more. I shifted on the bed, pushed Bruno’s hand away, and went down toward his crotch. I opened his pants, moved the fabric aside, and took him in my hand. Not small at all: I’d been wrong. He was hard, slightly tilted upward, soft to the touch. I admit, with a little guilt, that he was bigger than Mateo.

I took him in my mouth whole, until I felt the base against my lips. I pressed with my tongue and went back down slowly to the tip.

“Fuck…” Bruno blurted.

I kept going, wanting it more and more, while he grabbed my hair.

“Cute girlfriend you’ve got there, huh,” he panted. “And damn, she knows what she’s doing.”

Mateo laughed.

“Didn’t I tell you?”

“Yeah, but… this is too good.”

I slowed down on purpose. I didn’t want it to be over there. I glanced at Mateo: he was stroking himself hard, enjoying what he saw, what he himself had set up. I leaned farther, leaving my hips high. I felt Bruno’s hand slide back, push the fabric aside again, and slip his fingers inside. Faster now. The wet sound was audible, distant. My hips started moving on their own.

I gave him a break, stood up, and turned my back on him. I looked over my shoulder.

“Take my clothes off.”

Bruno slid the last garment off me gently, ran his hands forward, and pulled me toward his mouth. He started licking me from behind. I arched my back and my chest tightened; I couldn’t even let the air out. I grabbed his hair as if I were afraid he’d stop.

“Tasty, right?” Mateo commented from the chair.

Bruno answered with a moan without stopping what he was doing. Then he looked at me, stroking himself faster and faster.

“And do you like what he’s doing to you, babe?”

“Yes…” I could barely get it out.

I couldn’t take it anymore. I looked over my shoulder almost like a plea.

“Put it in me.”

Bruno guided me with his hands until he had me face down on the bed. I lifted my hips. He took off his tank top and pants, came closer, and slapped my ass. Then he started in slowly, first the tip, then the rest, filling me completely. He drew back as if to pull out and then slammed back in to the hilt.

I let out a cry Mateo must have heard only a few times in all these years.

He put one foot on the bed, grabbed my waist with one hand and my hair with the other, tilting my head back.

“You’re so hot…” he panted.

He started pounding me so hard and without pause that the smack of his body against mine sounded like applause. Between gasps, I begged him not to stop, to keep going like that, harder. He did as I asked. He took my neck in his other hand and, without slowing down, leaned in and kissed me upside down. We stayed looking at each other like that for a second.

“You’re gorgeous,” I told him. “And this, rock hard…”

“You like it? Is it exactly how you like it?”

“Uh-huh.”

He kept going for a long while. He kept moving his hands all over, those hands that wanted to know every inch of me: my back, my neck, my breasts. He pulled me toward him, pressing my back against his chest, and held me while he kept moving. I turned my head, looked at him, and smiled, biting my lip. He kissed me hungrily, then went down to my neck.

“You’re a sweetheart,” I told him softly.

“You’re beautiful. I’m loving this.”

“Me too. Keep going, don’t stop.”

Then I remembered what Mateo had read, the part about humiliation. Should I say things that make him feel that way?

“I think he’s bigger than you, babe,” I threw out. “And harder.”

Mateo started stroking himself faster.

“Oh yeah? Does that turn you on more?”

“Yeah. Look how he moves! He has no brakes.”

Bruno heard everything, but he didn’t get distracted. He didn’t change rhythm. A few minutes later he pulled out, flipped me over, spread my legs, and went back in. I screamed again.

“Yeah, just like that, don’t stop!”

He leaned over me, wrapped me in those arms, and kissed my neck while he kept going.

“You can see how much you both want it,” Mateo commented.

I turned my head.

“It was your idea, babe.”

“Yeah. And you’re not going to tell me you’re not enjoying it.”

I laughed.

“I love it. I love your friend.”

Bruno shook his head and warned me, breathless, that he was about to finish.

“It’s coming. Where do you want it?”

I opened my mouth and showed him my tongue.

“All of it?”

“All of it.”

When the moment came, he pulled out and moved forward on his knees until he was over me. I took him in my hand and put him in my mouth. He let out one last deep moan that filled the room. I didn’t swallow right away; I let it settle for a second. Then I did. I sucked a little more to clean him off and admitted, looking at him, that I’d liked it. That I’d liked everything about him.

Only then did I look at Mateo again. He had finished a long time ago, without either of us noticing; he had gotten up to clean himself and came back to the chair. I was still naked on the bed, in no hurry to get dressed, enjoying the rest under my partner’s gaze.

“That was incredible,” Bruno admitted, dressed again now.

“You hadn’t had this much fun before?” I asked, smiling.

“No. That was the best I’ve ever had.”

I saw Mateo looking at me with a warm smile, about to say something.

“And for you too it was the best, right?” he said.

I gave a sharp laugh and blushed. I was out of character already; I had no reason left to keep saying things to humiliate him. But, thinking about it, I couldn’t remember my boyfriend ever making me see stars that close. It made me feel a little sad to admit it. As long as it stayed in my head, no one would get hurt.

Mateo walked Bruno downstairs after they chatted a little longer. They’d talked about doing it again, though without a date. If I agreed, of course. I agreed with feigned disinterest, while inside I was already counting the days. That guy fucked like an animal.

And, as the internet says, that night Mateo and I did it for almost three straight hours. At one point he asked if I was thinking about Bruno while I was with him. I told him no, that they were two different things.

But it was so hard to focus without his face, his muscles, and everything else crossing my mind. And how hard it was going to be to wait for the next time.