Hola Amigo! This is part two in a series, you should start at the beginning.
The car hummed along the dark road, streetlights casting rhythmic orange pulses across Tanya’s face. She hadn’t stopped smiling since they left JR’s driveway. Alfredo gripped the steering wheel a little tighter than usual, his knuckles pale against the leather.
“So…” Tanya said, turning in her seat to face him. Her seatbelt pulled across her chest, framing the cleavage that JR had been staring at all night. “¿Estás seguro, amor? You’re sure?”
Alfredo swallowed. His throat was still dry from the vodka shots, from the salt air of the pool, from everything that had just happened. He looked at his wife—her eyes wide, hopeful, almost childlike in their excitement—and something in his chest loosened.
“Yeah,” he said. Then, quieter: “Yes.”
Tanya let out a little squeal and clapped her hands together. “Right now?” She asked, glancing at Alfredo.
“Ok.” Alfredo replied.
She already had her phone out. Alfredo watched her thumb scroll to JR’s contact—she’d saved it that evening, he realized, probably while he was grilling the last round of tacos. The speaker crackled in the quiet car.
Two rings. Then JR’s deep voice: “Y’all made it home already?”
“Not yet but hey I want to ask you something,” Tanya said, her voice dropping into that honeyed register she used when she wanted something. “So, we talked about it. Can we come over tomorrow?”
A low chuckle on the other end. “Tomorrow? Damn, Tanya. Yeah, come through. I’ll cook.”
“Thank you, JR” she said, and the way she said thank you made Alfredo’s stomach flip. It wasn’t the way you thank someone for a dinner invitation.
She hung up and pressed the phone to her chest, grinning at the windshield.
“You didn’t have to be so eager,” Alfredo said, trying for a laugh but it came out thin.
Tanya turned to him, her expression softening into something between tenderness and hunger. “Eager? Did you see his dick, amor?”
Alfredo shifted in his seat. “Yeah.”
“I wanted it tonight,” she said, matter-of-fact, like she was telling him she wanted to stop for gas. “But we needed to talk first. Now that I know you want to see me with him too—I really am excited. ¿Estás emocionado conmigo? Are you excited with me?”
Alfredo’s hands tightened on the wheel. The word sat in his mouth like a stone. “Yeah,” he stuttered. “Yeah, I’m… excited.”
Tanya reached over and put her hand on his thigh. She didn’t squeeze. She just rested it there, warm and deliberate. “Good. Because tomorrow’s going to be even better.”
They drove the rest of the way in a silence that wasn’t quite comfortable and wasn’t quite uncomfortable—something new, something neither of them had a name for yet.
At home, the house felt different. Their living room, with its framed wedding photo above the couch and the throw pillows Tanya’s mother had brought back from Guadalajara, seemed to belong to different people now. Alfredo brushed his teeth while Tanya sat on the edge of their bed, still in her sundress, scrolling through her phone.
He came out of the bathroom and paused in the doorway. “You coming to bed?”
“In a minute,” she said, not looking up. “I’m figuring out what to wear tomorrow.”
“It’s just JR’s house,” Alfredo said, pulling back the covers.
That earned him a look. “Exactly,” she said. “It’s just JR’s house.”
He watched her thumb through images—sundresses, a low-cut top he hadn’t seen before, something black and strappy that he was fairly certain she’d worn to a cousin’s quinceañera and never again. She held the phone up, showing him a red blouse with a deep V-neck. “¿Qué piensas? What do you think?”
“It’s nice.”
“You always say ‘it’s nice.'” She swiped to another option—a fitted top, white, thin enough that he could see the outline of her bra through the screen. “What about this one? I’m thinking no bra.”
Alfredo climbed into bed, the sheets cool against his skin. His mind was racing but his body was exhausted. “Whatever you want,” he said.
Tanya looked at him for a long moment, then set the phone on the nightstand. She leaned over and kissed his forehead. “Buenas noches, mi amor. Sleep tight. Tomorrow’s a big day.”
She said it like it was Christmas Eve.
Alfredo lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling fan making its slow rotations. He listened to Tanya move around the bedroom, opening and closing drawers, humming something faint and tuneless. At some point she came to bed, her body warm against his back, her arm draped over his side. He felt her breathing slow into sleep long before his own came.
The next afternoon, Alfredo stood in the kitchen in a daze, drinking coffee he’d barely tasted. Tanya came out of the bathroom in the white top. No bra, as promised. Her nipples pressed faint against the fabric. She’d paired it with a skirt that stopped mid-thigh and sandals that clicked on the tile floor.
“Ready?” she asked.
“Are you?” he asked back.
She smiled. “I’ve been ready since last night, papi. Let’s go.”
The drive to JR’s house felt longer than it had the night before. Tanya fidgeted with the radio, settling on a station playing banda music. She tapped her fingers on her knee in time with the horns. Alfredo kept his eyes on the road.
When they pulled up, JR was already outside, standing on his porch in basketball shorts and a tank top, waving them in. The smell of frying oil and seasoned meat drifted out through the open front door.
“Welcome back,” JR said, grinning. He hugged Tanya first—a full, close hug, his big arms wrapping around her back. Then he extended a hand to Alfredo. “Glad you came, bro.”
“Thanks for having us,” Alfredo said, shaking his hand. JR’s grip was firm and warm.
Inside, the kitchen was alive with the scent of flautas. A plate of rolled tortillas sat on the counter next to a deep pan of bubbling oil, and JR had set out sides—guacamole, pico de gallo, a bowl of shredded lettuce and crema.
“JR, you really are a good cook,” Tanya said, coming up behind him as he pulled a golden-brown flauta from the oil and set it on a paper-towel-lined plate. She placed her hand on his back, her fingers spreading across the broad muscle beneath his tank top.
JR looked over his shoulder at her, then glanced at Alfredo, who was standing awkwardly by the kitchen island. “Let’s eat first,” JR said. He nodded toward the table. “Gotta fill your tummy before I fill your…”
He let the sentence hang. Tanya burst out laughing, slapping his arm, “pendejo” she said, “Dumb Ass”. Alfredo let out a nervous chuckle, but something hot and tight coiled in his gut.
They sat at JR’s dining table, the three of them, plates piled high. The flautas were crispy and perfect, the filling seasoned with just enough cumin and chili and some grilled serrano peppers. Tanya ate with appetite, licking crema from her thumb in a way that felt deliberate.
“So, Al,” JR said, leaning back in his chair. He picked up his beer and took a long pull. “Tell me straight. You want to see your wife take a big cock?”
The question landed like a slap. Alfredo looked at Tanya. She was watching him, her eyes soft, a small encouraging smile on her lips. She gave him a tiny nod.
“She’s so hot,” Alfredo said, his voice cracking slightly. He cleared his throat. “I love watching her.”
JR smiled, slow and wide. “Yeah, she is. My new favorite torta.”
Tanya threw her head back and laughed, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders. “¡Cállate!” she said, but she was beaming. “Shut up.”
“I’m serious,” JR said, pointing at her with his beer bottle. “Best torta in town” Right Alfredo?
Alfredo felt something shift in his chest—jealousy, excitement, humiliation, pride, all tangled together like a knot he couldn’t undo. He picked at the last flauta on his plate and said nothing but offered a nod of agreement.
They finished eating, the three of them, the conversation drifting to the game, to food, to neighborhood gossip. It felt almost normal. Almost.
Then JR pushed his chair back and stood. “Hey, Al—will you do the dishes while we go to the bedroom? Take your time so we can get… acquainted.”
The word hung in the air. Acquainted.
Alfredo looked at Tanya. She was already standing, smoothing her skirt. She met his eyes and nodded—just once, small and certain. Then JR’s hand was on the small of her back, guiding her toward the hallway, and she was gone.
“Uh—ok,” Alfredo said to the empty room.
He stood there for a moment, staring at the dirty plates, the half-empty bowls of guacamole and pico, the crumpled paper towels. Then something kicked in—some desperate, absurd urgency—and he moved.
Alfredo did the dishes faster than he had ever done them in his life. He scraped plates into the trash with frantic efficiency, leaving them devoid of food scraps but just barely. He didn’t rinse them properly. He didn’t stack them neatly. He just needed them done. His hands were shaking and he kept dropping the sponge. At one point he knocked a fork into the sink and the clatter made him freeze, listening. From the back of the house, he heard something—a low murmur, a laugh, a murmur again. His wife’s voice, then JR’s, deeper.
He dried his hands on a dish towel, threw it on the counter, and walked down the hallway.
The bedroom door was open.
The now-familiar image hit him like a punch to the chest: his wife’s mouth wrapped around JR’s cock. She was on her knees beside the bed, her lips stretched wide around his girth, one hand gripping the base of his shaft. She couldn’t get enough of it, Alfredo thought to himself. She really, truly couldn’t.
But this time there was something different. Her other hand was between her own legs, her fingers working beneath the hem of her skirt, sliding against her pussy. She was playing with herself—slow, deliberate circles, her hips tilting forward with each pass.
Alfredo knew without a doubt what she was doing. She was trying to get herself ready to take him. She did the same thing with her big toy at home—the thick purple one she kept in the nightstand drawer, the one she’d started pulling out more and more often. She’d lie back, work herself open with her fingers, get herself slick and relaxed, and then slide the toy in. But even that toy, he knew, wasn’t as big as what she was currently sucking.
“Sit on that big box by the window, Al,” JR said as he saw his friend enter the room. His voice was calm but carried an almost commanding weight that made Alfredo’s legs move before his brain caught up.
He sat on the wooden box beneath the window, the surface hard and cool beneath him. He watched as JR gently pulled Tanya’s mouth off his cock and guided her onto the bed. She lay on her back, her skirt bunched around her waist, her white top pushed up to expose her breasts—large and soft, her nipples hard in the open air. Her fingers were still between her legs, glistening.
JR positioned himself between her thighs. He was fully hard now, and Alfredo could see the full extent of it—eight thick inches, the shaft veined and dark, the head swollen and flushed. It looked even bigger against the softness of Tanya’s inner thighs.
“Are you ok bareback?” JR asked, looking down at her.
Alfredo’s breath caught. He’d just assumed—what, exactly? That they’d figure it out? That someone else would handle it? He realized he’d been avoiding the conversation, maybe even avoiding thinking about it. The image of JR cumming inside his wife, raw and unprotected, flashed through his mind and made his head swim.
Thankfully, his wife was sharper than he was. Tanya reached over the edge of the bed, fumbled in her purse—she’d brought it into the bedroom, of course she had—and pulled out a gold wrapper. She held it up between two fingers, presenting it to JR with a small, almost ceremonial smile.
“Always prepared,” JR said, taking it.
He tore the wrapper and rolled the condom down his length. It fit snug, the latex stretched thin over his girth. Then he laid her back down, positioned himself, and began pushing into her.
Tanya was wet from her own fingers, from the anticipation, from the sucking but her body was tense. Alfredo could see it in the way her thighs tightened, the way her stomach muscles flexed. After all, she wasn’t used to something this big being inside her. Even her largest toy at home wasn’t as thick as JR was.
“Relax,” JR said, placing his broad hand on her side, his thumb stroking her hip. “Just breathe.”
Alfredo gulped from his box by the window. The sound of his awkward gulp was loud in the quiet room—audible, unmistakable. He hoped it hadn’t been. Tanya’s eyes flicked toward him for half a second, and the corner of her mouth twitched.
Then JR pushed the large shaft into her, slowly but with purpose.
Tanya’s body quivered. Not a small tremor—a full, involuntary shudder that rippled from her shoulders to her hips. A near-instant orgasm crashed through her, her back arching off the bed, a sharp cry tearing from her throat that Alfredo had never heard before. Not with him. Not ever.
“Wow,” JR said, pausing with his cock halfway inside her. “You really like that, don’t you?”
Tanya couldn’t answer. Her mouth was open, her eyes unfocused, her body still trembling around him.
Then JR started to fuck her, slowly at first.
He worked himself deeper with each thrust, then building a rhythm that made the bed creak. Tanya’s hands gripped the sheets, then his arms, then his back. Her nails dug into his shoulders. She wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him in, and JR responded by driving harder, his hips slapping against her thighs, the sound wet and rhythmic.
Alfredo watched from his box. He didn’t move. He didn’t touch himself. He just watched his wife get fucked by a man twice his size, and something inside him, something he didn’t fully understand felt like it was being cracked open and filled with light.
Tanya came again. Then again. Each orgasm was louder than the last, her body convulsing around JR’s cock, her voice breaking into fragments of Spanish and English—”Dios mío—yes—ahí—right there—papi—don’t stop—”
The last one was different. Her body quivered and wouldn’t stop. Even after JR slowed his pace, even after he held still inside her, her legs kept shaking, her stomach kept contracting, her breath kept hitching in little sobs. She looked almost overwhelmed, almost scared, almost too full.
JR watched her for a moment, then slowly withdrew. The condom glistened, and Tanya’s pussy clenched around nothing, still spasming. He stroked her thigh and said, “Think she’s good for now.”
He pulled off the condom, his cock still hard, still thick, slick with her wetness. Then he looked at Alfredo.
“Come finish me off, bro,” he said, motioning with his chin.
Alfredo blinked. “What?”
“You heard me. Come finish your amigo off.”
The room was silent except for Tanya’s slowing breath. Alfredo looked at his wife. She had a near-giddy smile on her face, cock drunk, flushed, glassy-eyed, her lips still swollen from sucking JR earlier. She watched her husband with an expression that was equal parts love and hunger.
Alfredo stood. His legs felt like they belonged to someone else. He crossed the room in three steps, four, five and knelt uncomfortably on the carpet before the man who had just fucked his wife.
JR’s cock was inches from his face. It was thick and warm and smelled like latex and Tanya. Alfredo opened his mouth and took the head in.
It was bigger than he expected. The girth stretched his jaw, and the taste was strange like rubber and salt and skin. He did what Tanya had done the night before, what he’d watched her do, he worked his mouth over the head, used his hand on the shaft, tried to find a rhythm.
“Que Rico” “that’s good,” JR said, his hand resting on the back of Alfredo’s head.
The words sent a jolt through Alfredo’s body that he didn’t want to examine. His pace quickened, his mouth sliding further down the shaft, his hand pumping what he couldn’t fit. JR’s hips began to move, thrusting gently, then harder.
Before long, JR groaned and shot thick ropes of cum down Alfredo’s throat. It was hot and copious and hit the back of his throat in pulses. Alfredo gagged, JR’s hand holding his head on his girthy member, Alfredo’s eyes watered, his throat convulsed but he couldn’t pull away. He swallowed what he could, and what he couldn’t leaked from the corners of his mouth, dripping down his chin.
JR exhaled and pulled back, his cock slipping from Alfredo’s lips with a soft pop. He looked down at Alfredo on his knees, cum on his chin, eyes red—and smiled.
“Tragatelo todo y no te quejes.,” JR said simply. “Swallow it all and don’t complain.”
Tanya was propped up on her elbows, watching. Her smile was the widest Alfredo had ever seen.
They left JR’s house an hour later, after Tanya cleaned up in the bathroom and Alfredo stood in the kitchen staring at the dishes he’d already washed. JR walked them to the car, hugged Tanya again but longer this time, his hand low on her back and reached to shake Alfredo’s hand with a smile, an awkward gesture given the evenings events.
“Same time next week?” JR asked, grinning.
“We’ll see,” Tanya said, but she was already nodding.
In the car, the silence was different from the night before. It was heavier, warmer, fuller. Tanya sat with her legs crossed, her skirt riding high on her thigh, her face still flushed. She looked at Alfredo as he pulled out of the driveway.
“What did you think about that, Alfredo?” she asked. Her voice was soft. “Did you like it?”
Alfredo kept his eyes on the road. His throat was still raw. “It was… a lot.”
“Did you like sucking JR?”
He didn’t answer right away. The streetlights pulsed. The banda station played something slow and mournful.
“I liked watching you please him,” Alfredo finally said.
Tanya reached over and put her hand on his thigh again, the same way she had the night before. “I like watching you struggle with it. So hot. I didn’t think you would do that, but I loved seeing you do that for me.”
Alfredo swallowed. He could still taste JR’s cum it was a faint metallic thick taste.
“I love the way he tells you what to do,” Tanya continued, her voice dropping lower. “You never even took your clothes off. It’s like you were just there for us, and that makes me love you so much, mi amor.”
She squeezed his thigh. Alfredo felt his eyes sting. He wasn’t sure if it was from what had happened or from the way she said mi amor—like she meant it more now than she ever had before.
“So,” Tanya said, settling back into her seat. “Same time next week?”
Alfredo drove. The road stretched out in front of them, dark and familiar, and somewhere in the distance, a dog barked at the passing headlights.
“Yeah,” he said. “Same time next week.”
Tanya’s smile beamed from ear to ear as she turned back to the window, watching the lights go by, already thinking about what she’d wear.
