I pick up girls for me and my wife to fuck – and I’m pretty good at estimating her taste. I’ve only gotten it completely wrong twice, and both times things were incredibly awkward, testing our marriage a little bit and giving everyone involved a minor anxiety attack. This story is about a girl who was almost the third.
As in the previous story, I was on the Barcelona beach. It was a sunny day in early June, the sand thronged with people – which is, oddly, worse for picking up girls than the shoulder seasons (April, May, September) where people are more relaxed and there is less of a spectacle.
I arrived early afternoon and sat down near some girls speaking some sort of Scandinavian language, I think. Nordic girls, to make an irresponsible, sweeping generalisation, are down to fuck like no one else: no-strings-attached is basically built into their DNA; they spend all winter working on their bodies; and because their summer is so relatively short, the sun makes them as horny as convent girls.
These girls, however, were not the ones to choose because they left not long after I sat down. That’s the other thing about summer in Barcelona: tourists are here not just to sit on the beach, but to see all the sights.
I was gathering my things to pack up and move to another spot when I turned around to see a couple of laughing girls on the other side of me. I hadn’t noticed them earlier, and one of them was talking to a water-seller in yet another language I didn’t recognise – which turned out to be Urdu. The conversation was brief, and when the water-seller moved on I smiled at the girls.
“He seemed happy to talk to you,” I said. They were quite attractive, both thin and expensive looking.
“We Pakistanis get everywhere,” said the girl who had been talking with him, in a distinctly American accent.
“You should have seen her yesterday,” said the other girl, even louder than the first and just as American. “She spent like 30 minutes talking to some guys selling blankets.”
“I talk to people, Jennifer,” said the first girl with a smile. “That’s what people do. We socialise. We live. Where’s your family from, Germany or something? I know you like silent reflection and stuff – but come on!”
Jennifer smiled at her friend and then at me. “Listen, Samina, I don’t talk to everyone because I don’t want to meet everyone. But I do talk to people I want to meet – like this guy.” She pointed to me. “What’s your name?”
I should say here that I’m American and my wife is British. And when we fuck other people we tend not to fuck either Americans or Brits. There can be some uncomfortable dynamics if two of us seem more connected than my wife and I – like if me and the other girl are American, my wife can get a bit alienated, and I feel the same with two Brits.
So obviously I should have rejected Jennifer as a potential play partner. But of course I did not. She was super into me, and her body type – lithe yet soft – is one of my wife’s favorites. That’s what I told myself anyway, as I brought her up the stairs a few hours later to meet my wife in our apartment.
Wife was still in her work clothes, and I could see she was interested. But then Jennifer spoke, and as she described her life in Los Angeles I could see the enthusiasm sap from my wife’s face. She was too American and clearly had a lot in common with me. And then, as I poured a second glass of wine for Jennifer (wife and I were still on our first), Jennifer took off her shirt.
She’d been very forward at the beach, and then even more forward in the conversation around the kitchen table – describing previous threesomes, giving Wife’s body long, lingering looks. But this was unprecedented. Especially because: Read the room, Jennifer! She’s not that into you!
Then Wife surprised me by taking off her work shirt and then her bra. She kicked off her trousers and pulled her underwear down as she walked toward the bedroom. Jennifer followed and so did I – what else could we do?
Wife sat on the chair and said, “You two fuck on the bed. I want to watch.”
Jennifer didn’t need to be told twice, and she immediately got to her knees and started unzipping my trousers. I looked over at Wife with a WTF expression and she nodded toward Jennifer and mouthed the words “Yes – do it” as she stroked her slit.
I wasn’t hard yet – the emotions of the situation were quite confusing – but a few seconds of Jennifer’s enthusiastic mouth were enough to wake up my cock, and I peeled my shirt off as my trousers dropped around my ankles. Moving to the bed, Jennifer took off her shorts and started talking about my cock.
“That’s the biggest dick I’ve ever seen! Like, ever!” She was beaming with the false enthusiasm of a porn movie. I mean, my cock is larger than average, but I’m not porn big – not worthy of the enthusiasm she was giving it.
She continued the performance in bed, screaming like she was on camera and arching her back to show off her tits and, I guess, to perform for Wife. It was odd. I haven’t been in bed with someone so artificial in many years, and it was sort of a turn off. Wife was continuing to finger herself and I think I must have looked a bit lost because she said, “Fuck her hard. Fuck her like the little slut she is. Rip her in half with your big fucking dick.”
I’ve never heard my wife talk quite like that, and there was a distinct edge in her voice, almost anger. Which I kind of understood: I pick up the girls primarily for her, and this time I had picked up an American (usually a no-no) and one who wasn’t a good match for her in any case. Her aggression was real, she told me later. In the moment, I did as she said, flipping Jennifer on her knees and pounding her from behind, first with my hands on her hips and then with one hand grabbing her long brown hair. She wants to fuck like a porn star, we’ll fuck like porn stars.
As I discovered that I could go balls deep, I let myself enthusiastically jackhammer, not something I usually do. Jennifer was slamming her ass back into me at each thrust, evidently enjoying herself, although she was whimpering now rather than screaming. My wife came quietly, her legs shaking in familiar fashion as she said “oh god” to herself several times. And I decided I had done enough jackhammering for the day, whether or not Jennifer had come. I increased the pace and came quietly myself, still thrusting into Jennifer’s thin, underdeveloped thighs.
Jennifer collapsed beneath me after I pulled out, first moaning to herself and then, eventually, crying. I was a bit freaked out (tears are not a usual part of my bedroom experience) but it seemed to trigger something maternal in Wife, who brought her a towel and laid down behind her as a big spoon, stroking her arm.
After Jennifer left, explaining that she’d come three times and never been fucked like that in her life (the truth? who knows!) Wife and I talked for an hour to re-establish equilibrium. And then we fucked very gently, talking as we did about Jennifer, about how I picked her up, about the other girls on the beach.
“I didn’t like her, but I liked watching you fuck her despite myself,” said Wife afterwards. “I came really hard.”
“I did too, which surprised me,” I replied, genuinely. “Her acting was something else.”
“I wanted to say we should never do that again, but now I’m not so sure.”
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/lwy1on/mff_girls_with_high_selfesteem_on_the_barcelona
Very nice. I just re read your previous story too.