The Couple Who Watched Us from the Bed Next to Ours

You get up from the chair and hold out your hand for me to take. “It’s now, let’s go,” you tell me, and you stride decisively toward the playroom. I follow you without letting go, with that teenage excitement that never goes away. The wine and the two brandies you drank during dinner, without getting drunk, have left you at exactly the level of cheekiness where I know you best.

It’s the first night of our second stay at Eden, this adult paradise we came back to ahead of schedule because, since we left three months ago, we haven’t talked about anything else. The morning passed softly, almost lazily. The afternoon got us boiling.

There are more people in the room than we expected. You haven’t told me, but I know you’ve been following the couple we crossed paths with at noon in the jacuzzi. Barely a greeting, but the looks were worth a whole conversation. They’re already there: he, naked, sitting on the edge of the huge bed. She, kneeling between his legs, taking him into her mouth with a calm that is almost insulting.

Since breakfast we’d been recognizing the differences between this special week and the rest of the year. The older man with the two girls trying to pass themselves off as twins, the pair of women —one tall, athletic, with very short hair, and the other younger, brunette, with curves that showed even under her sarong— had caught our eye from the first coffee.

As we strip quickly, still standing, leaving the little clothing we were wearing on the entry bar, you nod toward the two women. They’re tangled up with each other with the confidence only time can give, licking each other with a slow, almost ceremonial rhythm. There’s something magnetic about the way they seek each other out, and you take it all in.

I put you in front of the big mirror and press your hands against the glass at shoulder height. I stroke your back, kiss the nape of your neck, slide my cock between your ass cheeks and blow slowly over your neck. From this position we can see ourselves and, at the same time, keep the entire room in view. It’s a perfect idea, and I congratulate myself in silence while your eyes search for mine in the reflection.

That same afternoon, when we finished the first session on one of the jacuzzi beds, we agreed that in the playroom we would only have oral sex. Plenty of it, intense, varied, until we couldn’t take it anymore. Then we’d go to some corner of the beach to fuck with no witnesses. The pact sounded sensible at five in the afternoon. Now, with your hand already reaching for me, it sounds impossible.

You turn halfway around and end up facing me. With short, firm steps, you push me onto the bed and, with a shove to the chest, sit me on it. I’m now half a meter from the couple who caught our attention, without having exchanged a single word with them. Mimicking the woman, you kneel and your tongue begins to work its magic with long, delicious licks over the tip. You glance back at me —the way I like so much— while holding the shaft tightly and licking just the head. In your gaze there’s challenge, there’s hunger, and there’s an old, enormous affection. A jolt runs down my spine and my breath catches.

***

During the foam party in the afternoon we’d made love again. Third time that day, and it was starting to feel like a habit. The difference this time was that, instead of trying to go unnoticed, we ended up beside another couple who were doing the same thing. More than once there were brushes —accidental or not, who knows—. We liked the feeling more than we were prepared to admit out loud.

I turn to my right and discover that the neighbor is no longer looking at his wife: he’s looking at you. You feel eyes on the back of your neck, lift your gaze for a second, confirm it, and speed up and deepen the blowjob. He bites his lower lip without looking away. His wife, noticing, smiles without letting him go. I feel like I’m about to burst.

You take my cock to the back of your throat and press up from below with your tongue. I tremble and have a dry orgasm that almost clouds my vision. You notice and withdraw little by little, carefully, like someone putting out a fire without quite putting it out. I’m still rock hard, and the only thing my fogged-up head wants now is to lay you on your back and drive it all the way in, into that pussy I know is wet and throbbing. But the afternoon agreement holds. Just barely.

***

At dinner we’d had one of those long, fun conversations that define us better than anything else. A pause in the charged erotic atmosphere we’ve been living in since the plane landed. Proof that we’re as much friends as lovers. In the end, the usual coffee, that drink that brought us together even before the first kiss.

I ask you to get up on the bed with me. I lie down with my feet toward the wall and my head toward the edge, not too close. You straddle my face and lower your vulva to my mouth, like that first time in Cartagena when it caught you off guard and you loved it so much. You’re soaked and the clit peeks out from the hood as if it had a life of its own. I drag it out on purpose; I want you to get hot, I want you to ask. I start with light touches, almost without touching you, while my hands squeeze your ass cheeks hard. I whisper in your ear that I want you to feel me, but to look around and let yourself be watched.

Your first orgasm comes in less than a minute. I could stop; I know another, much more intense one is coming and that’s something that fascinates me. I’m not wrong: when the cries spill over, I smack your right ass cheek twice, hard. You slowly rise and I sit up, reclaiming my field of vision. To my surprise, I discover that the neighboring couple are parallel to us, in exactly the same position we were in a moment ago.

***

Before heading up to the disco you’d once again knocked down my famous line, “I don’t like dancing.” On the dance floor, wrapped in each other to the rhythm of that night’s band, we ended up melting into one another: kissing, grabbing, laughing for no reason. You’ve never said anything about my complete lack of rhythm; you try to adapt to my clumsy steps and, somehow, we manage it. We enjoy it like kids.

I want to bring my wet mouth to yours and merge in a kiss that tastes like both of us. When we pause, you tell me, still breathless, that the woman next to us and you came at the same time, holding hands. “It was spontaneous, it just happened,” you explain, and add in a low voice: “I loved it.”

***

In case the dance floor hadn’t been enough, a while later the fake twins accompanying the older gentleman climbed onto the platform with the pole and performed a striptease for him like professionals. Then, naked, they went to sit on either side of the guy, who lounged comfortably in an armchair with both prizes within reach of his hands.

I lie down on my back again, but this time you position yourself at my side, beside my legs, on your knees. You slip a finger into your pussy, rub yourself for a while unhurriedly, pull it out and rest it against my mouth. I suck it greedily. You sigh and your body loosens for an instant, as if an internal knot had come undone.

You get ready and attack my cock with your mouth again. Your knees are apart and your ass is pointed at the ceiling. You suck, pull off, look at me. You jerk me off with your hand, go back to my mouth, look at me again. I go crazy. You’re focused on what you know best, and you know it.

I turn to my left and the neighbors have copied us again, but like in a mirror. One of the girl’s ass cheeks brushes yours and they rub slowly, skin against skin. I’m loving it, we’re loving it. But just when I think it can’t get any better, she breaks contact with her partner and positions herself behind you. With her hands she runs along your back, kisses it, licks from your waist to your shoulder blade. You arch your back and speed up the blowjob. I don’t know how much longer I can hold out and, at the same time, I want this never to end. I whisper in your ear to keep going, keep going.

***

Earlier, in the disco, we had stopped dancing separately because the rhythm called for it. Three couples of pretty drunk gringos burst in among the crowd, dancing with everyone, grinding, handing out caresses and grabs to whoever was nearby. You got a good handful of tits; I got an unashamed grab of my cock. We laughed and, above all, we savored the naughtiness of it.

The woman has slipped a finger into your pussy and is licking between your ass cheeks. You moan through a tight throat; you don’t scream because you’ve got half a cock in your mouth. You don’t know which stimulus to pay attention to. I look up and see the man, standing next to his partner, putting on a condom with a calm that contrasts with everything else. My mind speeds up. I don’t know whether to warn you or let the scene play out. I choose the second, with all its risks.

The woman pulls back a little, without fully breaking contact with you. Two male hands settle on your ass cheeks. You turn to look at me and raise your eyebrows in a silent question. “Enjoy it,” I manage to tell you. I give the neighbor an almost imperceptible nod, and he enters you with unbearable slowness. You push your ass back, desperate to have him all the way inside, and he takes it as permission to start pumping, with rhythm, with force, without taking his eyes off you.

You pull my cock out of your mouth and scream. With my hand I give myself the three or four strokes I have left, and I come directly into your mouth, which is not willing to lose a single drop. You explode in a huge, endless orgasm while he’s still inside. He stays there for a moment, enjoying the spasms, and then pulls out slowly, carefully. You and I collapse on the bed, holding each other, not wanting anything else from the world for a long while.

Before closing my eyes, the neighbors smile at us from their bed. We don’t speak. There’s no need. Tomorrow, perhaps, a word will come. Tonight it’s enough to have shared the air, the eyes, the bed. And to have broken the pact in the only way it was ever meant to be broken.