I’m a blonde, 5’3” tall, and weigh 121 pounds. My eyes are blue, my breasts are medium-sized and perky—just like my ass, which is my signature feature and the first thing people notice. When I was younger, I hated the stares I attracted on the street, at school, or anywhere I went. Everyone catcalled me, and it made me deeply uncomfortable.

My husband and I have always had a relationship built on freedom. In bed, we were great together. Early in our marriage, he tried anal sex with me, but it hurt, and I refused. After that, maybe out of fear of upsetting me, he never brought it up again. We had sex almost every day.

One of my husband’s fantasies, which initially worried me but eventually became ours, was a threesome. But between fantasizing and actually doing it, there’s a huge gap.

The idea would come up whenever we were turned on, and we’d whisper to each other about how amazing it would be to share our bed and our wildest desires with a third person.

Even though fantasizing about a threesome drove us crazy with lust, I need to make something clear: I’m an extremely jealous woman. I never—never—entertained the idea, even as a joke, of sharing our bed with another woman. And God forbid my husband ever went out with someone else for sex or anything more. On that subject, I’m uncompromising: if it ever happened, I’d lose my mind.

We were doing just fine with this way of spicing things up until we met Marcos at a sales course in town that week.

I wasn’t directly involved in the subject of the seminar, but I ended up going with my husband. Marcos was a sales manager for a multinational company, hired to implement a new sales system in the state. He was older than us—tall, dark, 6 feet tall, and around 198 pounds, with the kind of life experience that showed. He had a delicious Carioca accent, having lived in Rio for the past twenty years.

As soon as we arrived, my coworker Kátia introduced us. She was swamped with event organization and asked us to keep him company for a few minutes. While we talked, I noticed Marcos couldn’t take his eyes off me. My husband noticed too and, after Kátia came back to take Marcos away, he whispered angrily that I’d been flirting shamelessly, keeping a constant, dirty smile on my face the whole time. I shot back playfully that the guy was hot and I wasn’t made of stone. My husband glared at me, and the conversation died right there.

The seminar ended around 11 PM, and we left starving since we hadn’t eaten dinner yet. We headed straight to a pizzeria. While we waited for the waiter, Kátia walked in with Marcos and two friends. When they saw us, they came over to our table.

I sensed my husband’s discomfort, but he was polite. He stood up, rearranged the chairs, and invited them to join us. We ordered pizza and two bottles of ice-cold white wine.

At first, my husband was quiet, but he loosened up as we got to know Marcos better. We found out he was Kátia’s cousin, and my husband discovered they had a lot in common—both from São Paulo, fans of the same soccer team, runners, car enthusiasts, and lovers of adventure movies.

Marcos told us he was single, 44 years old, and had rented a penthouse in a newly built building in our city.

As the conversation flowed and the wine disappeared, Marcos’ leg brushed against mine under the table. The first few times, I pulled away. But then I let it happen. His thigh rubbed against mine, barely covered by the miniskirt I was wearing. His eyes locked onto me the whole time. Afraid my husband would notice, I reminded him it was getting late, our kids were home alone, and we should continue this another time.

On our way out, Marcos invited us to dinner at his place the following week. Rogério drove home in silence.

Once we were in bed, we started talking about the night. Out of nowhere, he asked if I’d felt anything for Marcos. I was caught off guard, but maybe it was the wine talking—I admitted I had. That I was actually interested in him. And that I’d gotten really turned on by the way Marcos looked at me. As I spoke, I pressed my body against his, and we ended up having amazing sex.

Three days later, Kátia called. Marcos had really hit it off with us and asked for our number so he could invite us to dinner that Friday. Unfortunately, she’d be traveling to Brasília and couldn’t make it.

That night, he called. He and my husband talked for a long time. Rogério wrote down Marcos’ address and phone number, promising to confirm if we could make it. When he hung up, I noticed something strange in his expression, but I didn’t ask.

On the day of the dinner, my husband called from the office and asked if I wanted to go to Marcos’ place. I said yes, no problem—it could even be fun to meet new people.

At 9 PM that Friday, we arrived at Marcos’ apartment. My husband wore jeans and a white shirt. I dressed up a little more: a black skirt that barely covered my thighs, a soft pink-and-purple silk blouse, and underneath, just a tiny flesh-colored thong. I finished the look with sky-high stilettos that made my already-perky ass look even more pronounced. The outfit was undeniably sexy.

When we got there, I was surprised to find we were the only guests. I felt a little awkward at first, but after the first glass of wine, I relaxed and laughed at everything.

My husband and Marcos hit it off immediately, deep in conversation. They were so into it that I wandered out to the terrace and spent a long time admiring the city lights. I could feel Marcos’ eyes on me the whole time, undressing my legs and ass.

Half an hour later, Marcos called us to the dining table. He was an excellent host—the table was beautifully set, and he turned out to be a fantastic cook. He served us a delicious fish dish with three bottles of a famous German wine.

After dinner, the mood was completely relaxed, and we moved to the spacious living room with a glass door leading to the balcony, offering a stunning view of the city. The room was tastefully decorated, with a huge crystal mirror covering almost an entire wall. It was in that mirror that I saw my flushed face. I was nervous and turned on, knowing both men wanted to fuck me.

I sank into a plush sofa. My husband sat in an armchair, and Marcos put on a romantic CD. He refilled our glasses and sat at the other end of the couch.

The conversation grew more relaxed, eventually turning to the life of a single man. Marcos smiled wistfully. "Sometimes loneliness hits hard, but I haven’t found my soulmate yet."

Rogério, half-joking, asked what his idea of a soulmate was. Without hesitation, Marcos looked at me and said, "First, she’d have to be as beautiful, charming, and sexy as Lu. And second, she’d have to be up for all my wildest ideas."

I blushed. My husband smiled awkwardly and asked what those "wild ideas" were.

"Well," Marcos said, "traditional marriage is bullshit. The possessiveness, the jealousy, the routine—it kills the passion. After a while, people just end up bitter, hiding their deepest desires."

I glanced at my husband. He was still smiling, but there was tension in his face.

"Marcos," I said, "Rogério and I aren’t like that. We know we have to keep things exciting to avoid falling into a rut, and we don’t police each other."

Marcos looked at my husband. "I can tell you two are a happy, open-minded couple."

"Not exactly," my husband said. "Lu’s right—we know we should spice things up, but we haven’t exactly put theory into practice. It takes caution. This city is pretty conservative. There’s no one here to explore that kind of freedom with. We’re not in Rio, you know."

"I get that," Marcos said. "I’ve been here three months, and I’ve already noticed how judgmental people are."

"Exactly," I chimed in. "Imagine us, with our kind of family… we’d be the talk of the town."

Marcos smiled. "That’s why people like us need to stick together, protect each other. I’m really glad I met you two. I hope this friendship lasts."

"Then, my friend," my husband said, "why don’t you open another bottle so we can seal this friendship?"

We all laughed. Marcos got up to grab more wine. While he was gone, my husband pulled me up from the sofa, wrapped his arms around my waist, and started dancing slowly with me. When Marcos returned, we were pressed together, moving to the music.

I had my arms around my husband’s neck, and he was holding me by the ass. Marcos refilled our abandoned glasses and sat back down, watching us. I think he adjusted the lighting while he was up—it seemed softer, more intimate.

As we swayed slowly across the thick carpet, my husband whispered in my ear, "This time, you’re not getting away."

I smiled and whispered back, "Who said I want to get away?"

Hearing that, my husband kissed me deeply, his hands sliding down to my ass, pulling my skirt up. I could feel his hard cock pressing between my legs. He trailed kisses down my neck to my collarbone, almost exposing one of my breasts.

I half-opened my eyes and saw Marcos stroking himself through his pants, his erection straining against the fabric.

Then the CD ended.

"Too bad… it was just getting good," I teased.

My husband, full of lust, said, "Don’t worry about that. If that’s what you want, leave it to me."

He went to change the music. I walked over to the sideboard and took another sip of wine. When the music started again, I danced sensually in front of Marcos, rolling my hips, making sure he couldn’t ignore the bulge in his pants. When the song filled the room again, I held out my arms to him.

"Come on. Now it’s your turn to drive me crazy."

He glanced at my husband, who gave him a subtle thumbs-up. Without hiding his erection, Marcos stood up and pulled me into his arms. We started dancing to the slow, romantic song my husband had chosen.

I melted. On impulse, I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him into a deep kiss. When his left hand slid down my back, over my ass, and down my thigh, I felt a rush of wetness between my legs. I was afraid of my husband’s reaction—we hadn’t discussed actually hooking up with Marcos. Nervously, I peeked at Rogério and saw him sitting on the sofa, slowly stroking himself over his pants. He was very turned on.

I lost it. I unclasped one hand from Marcos’ neck and started unbuttoning his shirt while he, very gently, undid my blouse and bra, slipping them off my body. He stared at my hard nipples, then took one into his mouth, sucking hungrily. He reached for the belt holding my skirt up, and without its support, the fabric slid down my legs, pooling at my feet. I kicked it toward my husband, who caught it and pressed it to his face, inhaling my scent. In just my thong, I pressed myself against Marcos, who was now kissing my shoulders, grinding his cock against my tits while his hands squeezed my ass through the thin fabric.

At the same time, I arched my back, pushing my pussy against his cock, and finished unbuttoning his shirt. Then I undid his belt and zipper, seeking his mouth with mine. We kissed like two lovers who hadn’t seen each other in years. With my right hand, I reached into his briefs and wrapped my fingers around his thick, hot cock, stroking him slowly. I glanced over and saw my husband watching us, which turned me on even more.

While I kissed Marcos like a starving animal, I helped him out of his clothes. That’s when I felt another pair of hands join in. A shiver ran through me when I realized my husband had come up behind me and was hooking his fingers into the waistband of my thong. Slowly, he pulled it down, exposing my ass. I felt his lips on my neck, then my shoulders, trailing down to my ass cheeks. I moaned into Marcos’ mouth, kissing him even more passionately. When my thong was completely off, Rogério turned my face toward him and kissed me deeply, leaving me breathless and trembling. I noticed him return to the sofa, where he resumed stroking himself, sometimes bringing my thong to his nose, sometimes wrapping it around his cock.

When Marcos was fully naked, I pulled him down to the floor. He lay on his back on the carpet, his cock rock-hard, glistening with pre-cum. He wasn’t wearing a condom, and I hesitated—after all, I barely knew this man. I looked at my husband and asked him, sweetly, for a condom. He said, "If you want the full experience, it has to be without protection."

That shocked me, but the lust was too strong. I couldn’t resist. I took Marcos’ thick cock in my left hand, placed my right hand on his chest, and slowly lowered myself onto him, guiding his dick into my pussy. I was facing away from my husband, but I could see him in the huge mirror on the wall.

He was still stroking himself, not missing a single moment.

When I felt the head of Marcos’ cock press against my entrance, I placed my other hand on his chest and started grinding down slowly, making sure to stick my ass out, forcing his cock backward so my pussy lips were spread wide open, exposing everything to my husband’s hungry gaze.

It took me over three minutes to take all of him. When I felt his balls press against my ass, I started riding him slowly, rolling my hips.

Marcos, sensing the show we were putting on for my husband, grabbed my ass cheeks and spread them as wide as he could. He wet his middle finger in my pussy, then brought it to my asshole, teasing the tight ring. I moaned—it felt incredible.

It was insane. I rode him like that for over fifteen minutes, bouncing up and down on his cock. Sometimes he’d hold me up, leaving just the tip inside me, and I’d whimper, desperate to take him all the way again. Then, with a sharp thrust, he’d pull me down hard, burying himself to the hilt in one stroke. My pussy, which had only ever known my husband’s cock, was now stretched around a different, thicker one. The sensation was overwhelming. I lost all shame. I moaned loudly, forgetting that my husband—the man I’d been faithful to until that night—was right there, watching me act like a slut, devouring a man I barely knew.

I picked up the pace, and between gasps and spasms, Marcos and I came together in an unforgettable orgasm. It was like something out of a movie. Exhausted, I collapsed on top of him and curled up beside him. I was so relaxed and satisfied that I dozed off, my head resting on his arm. I don’t know how long I slept.

When I woke up, someone had put a pillow under my head and draped a sheet over me. My pussy was swollen and dripping.

I heard voices. I put my thong back on and went to see what was going on. My two men were sitting on the terrace, chatting about their favorite topics.

They’d already cleared the table, stacked the dishes in the sink, and were sipping liqueur. I stood there for a while, watching them with affection, happy they’d gotten along so well. I started imagining all the possibilities for the future.

When the conversation died down, they came back inside. Marcos sat on the sofa beside me and asked how I was feeling. I said I was fine and looked at my husband, who immediately said, "Tonight’s all about you, babe. Enjoy it as much as you want."

My heart raced, especially when Marcos leaned in. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and pulled me into a deep, lingering kiss. I crossed my legs and started rubbing my toes against his calf, trying to tease the hairs on his leg. He placed his left hand on my thigh and slowly slid it up to my hip, squeezing my ass. I moaned into his mouth. He whispered in my ear, "Lu, you’ve driven me crazy with that perfect ass of yours."

I nearly had a heart attack. My husband just watched, sitting in the armchair across from us.

I was a little scared, but I liked knowing the effect I had on Marcos.

"Oh yeah?" I purred in his ear. "Wasn’t what you got enough?"

"I want to know all of you."

I shivered.

"We can try, but I have to warn you—I’ve never done it that way before."

"Really?" he asked.

"Really," I whispered.

"Wow. So I’d be the first?"

"You would. But like I said, I don’t know if I can take it. Not just because I’m inexperienced, but because I can tell you’re bigger than what I’m used to."

"That won’t be a problem," he said. "You’ve heard that size isn’t everything, right? It’s all about technique."

"Oh yeah?" I teased. "So you’re an expert?"

"I didn’t say that. I just meant I want to, I really want to, and I know you’ll like it."

As I reached for the bulge in his pants and lightly kissed his ear, I murmured in the sexiest voice I could muster, "Just tell me… what do you want to do to me?"

He squeezed my ass hard and said, his voice rough, "I want to teach you how to take it in that perfect ass of yours."

My husband was about to come just from watching.

"What if it hurts? Or if I don’t like it?" I asked.

"Then we stop. No big deal. Though, to be fair, you did bring this on yourself by being so fucking hot."

I smiled, stood up, and pulled him by the hand. I rose onto my tiptoes and kissed him deeply. With my heels off the ground, my ass was perfectly perked up and exposed. Marcos grabbed it with both hands and lifted me completely off the floor. I took advantage of the momentum and wrapped my legs around his waist, clinging to him. Holding my ass tight, he carried me to the bedroom.

Once there, he laid me on the bed and went to the bathroom. My husband sat on a small sofa beside the bed. I turned onto my right side to look him in the eyes, my ass facing the bathroom door. I asked if this was really what he wanted, and he said it was exactly what he’d been craving that night.

Marcos came out of the bathroom completely naked, his cock standing at full attention. When he saw my ass turned toward him, he couldn’t resist. He knelt behind me, kissing, licking, and caressing my cheeks. He slowly pulled my thong down, and I had to lift my hips and wiggle a little to help him take it off. Then he turned me onto my back and leaned over me, kissing me all over—forehead, eyes, mouth, chin, trailing his tongue down to my already-hard nipples.

He took my hands and placed them on my breasts, then moved his mouth lower, licking around my belly button before heading straight for my pussy. I got the message and started playing with my own tits, my arousal skyrocketing. Marcos’ tongue was already teasing my inner thighs, and I spread my legs as wide as I could. He slid a pillow under my ass, lifting my hips until my back was almost off the bed. Then he grabbed two more pillows and propped my ass up high, so my pussy and my asshole were completely exposed. By then, his tongue was flicking my clit.

Lightly, slowly. Every now and then, he’d flatten his tongue and lick my entire pussy before going back to just the tip, teasing my clit. My pussy was getting wetter by the second, and I’d already come twice on his mouth when I felt his tongue move lower. Marcos spread my ass cheeks and started licking my asshole. The sensation was unlike anything I’d ever felt. It was too much. He went back to my pussy, then my ass again, his nose brushing against my clit as he rimmed me. Suddenly, I felt a finger slide into my pussy, scooping up my juices before bringing them to my asshole, coating it.

It felt so good that I moaned, "I want you… take my ass." But Marcos wasn’t in a hurry. He adjusted his position, took my hand, and guided my fingers back to my pussy. While I rubbed my clit, he rearranged the pillows, adding another under my back—all without stopping his tongue’s assault on my pussy and ass. He kept dipping his fingers into my pussy, mixing them with mine, gathering my wetness to slick my asshole. "God, this is amazing," I thought. "How did I go so long without this?" I was desperate to feel a cock in my ass, almost to the point of begging him to fuck me there. When I was on the edge of losing my mind, he slid one finger into my ass. It felt incredible. He played with it for a few minutes, then pulled it out.

"Don’t stop… it feels so good," I whimpered.

He ignored me and went back to licking. A moment later, he returned with two fingers, massaging my asshole before slowly pushing them inside. I groaned in pleasure.

"Fuck, Marcos… that feels so good."

"You want me to do this?" he asked.

"Yes! I’m dying to feel you in my ass."

"You don’t want to save this tight little ass for your husband?"

"No!" I moaned. "I want to give it to you. You’re the one who got me this turned on. You deserve to be the first. Fuck me now… don’t tease me."

He sat up and told me to spread my legs wide, like a roast chicken, and lift my hips high with the pillows. Then he took my hands and placed them on my pussy, telling me to finger myself while he lined his cock up with my asshole. As I did, he commented on how hot it was to see my hands—with my diamond and gold wedding rings—touching my pussy. He gripped the head of his cock and pressed it against my asshole, telling me to stay relaxed. Slowly, he pushed in, feeling the tight ring give way. There was a slight sting, but it quickly turned into pleasure. He stopped with just the head inside, waiting.

"Does it hurt, baby?" he whispered.

"No… go deeper."

And he did. Smoothly but firmly, Marcos slid his entire length into my ass. He grabbed my thighs and pulled me against him, my ass cheeks pressing into his body.

I was in ecstasy. Almost moaning, I asked my husband to come closer. With my right hand, I reached for his cock and started jerking him off while Marcos fucked my ass. I closed my eyes, overwhelmed.

When I felt my husband’s fingers intertwine with mine, sliding in and out of my dripping pussy, I whispered, "Oh God… if I’d known it felt this good, I would’ve asked Rogério to fuck my ass a long time ago."

Marcos paused, his cock buried deep in my ass, and leaned over me, biting and sucking my nipples for about thirty seconds while my husband fingered my sopping pussy. Then, in one quick motion, Marcos pulled out and told me to get on all fours. I obeyed immediately, and he positioned the head of his cock at my asshole. My husband sat at the head of the bed, stroking himself again.

I arched my back and pushed my ass toward Marcos, taking his cock back into my ass. From there, it was pure pleasure. He fucked my ass for nearly twenty minutes. Whenever he was about to come, he’d slow down, leaving just the tip inside. I’d wait a moment, then slowly sink back onto his thick shaft, taking him deep into my tight ass again. While he fucked me, he bit my neck and caressed my thighs and ass.

When I felt him about to come, I clenched my freshly-fucked ass around his cock and begged, "Come in my ass! Fill me up, baby!"

The second I called Marcos "baby," my husband couldn’t hold back—he came all over his hand. Marcos lost it too, pumping his load deep into my ass.

We collapsed onto the bed, exhausted.

I gathered my clothes, scattered around the apartment, and went to the bathroom for a long, hot shower. Only after getting dressed did I go out to the terrace to call my husband so we could leave.

They chatted a little longer, but soon we were saying our goodbyes. Marcos gave me a soft kiss on the lips. "Thank you for everything."

"No, thank you," I said. "We’re the ones who should be thanking you for your hospitality. We hope to return the favor someday."

My husband chimed in, "Just say when. Next time, I don’t want to end up with just my hand."

We all laughed, and my husband and I left, happy we’d finally lived out our fantasy.

As the car glided down the road toward home, I said in a soft, raspy voice, "Babe, I don’t want you to be upset with me… but I have to tell you—I came so hard. So hard I thought I was going to die."

He laughed. "We came here for this, didn’t we? I’d be upset if you told me you didn’t like it. If you enjoyed it, that’s normal!"

"I didn’t just enjoy it… I loved it," I said. "I was just a little disappointed you didn’t join in more. Didn’t you say you wanted a threesome with me and another man?"

He made me so happy when he answered, "Who said I didn’t join in? I came too. I was so turned on I almost lost my mind."

Drowsy, I replayed the whole night in my head—the touches, the kisses, the sensations. I was happy. So happy.

The end