A long-term couple meets a third person on vacation. What was supposed to stay just an idea becomes a six-day experiment. A long story about trust, jealousy, and the amazement at what a relationship can endure. 18+.
We didn’t know Cara before we went to Sicily. We didn’t know her after Sicily either, but that’s not quite right – we spent one summer knowing what another person does to us, and that’s more than most couples know about themselves.
Jens and I had been together for eight years, married for five. We’d had no drama, which was maybe the drama – we lived a friendly, competent life in Hamburg, me a lawyer, him an architect, and our trips were what tore us out of our routine. Sicily was the fifth trip, a booked house in the countryside near Modica, with a pool and an olive grove and a housekeeper who came by once a day to ask if we needed bread or wine.
Cara wasn’t the housekeeper. Cara lived in the small stone house at the edge of the property that we hadn’t rented – it was a separate rental, three rooms, one bathroom. She was mid-thirties, half Italian, half American, had lived in Berlin for two years, spoke perfect German.
On the first evening, we met her because she came to our veranda, introduced herself, brought a bottle of wine, and said she wouldn’t bother us for three weeks – she was only outside during the day, sometimes not, she had a book to write.
“What kind of book?” Jens asked.
“A translation. Pavese.”
“Into what?”
“German. The old translations are outdated.”
We drank the wine. Jens and I had the same perception immediately – Cara wasn’t someone you met without something inside you reacting. She wasn’t classically attractive, but she had a way of talking that demanded attention without begging for it. We stayed on the veranda for three hours. She left at midnight.
In bed, later, Jens said:
“Interesting woman.”
“Yes.”
“Do you find her attractive?”
“Do you find her attractive?”
We laughed. We’d been together for eight years, we’d played this game often – who had we found interesting on trips, who had caught our eye. We’d never made anything of it. It was one of our little safe games.
“Yes,” Jens said.
“Me too.”
“Her too?”
“I think so.”
It was unusual for me to say that so clearly. In eight years of relationship, I’d found four other women with whom I’d briefly thought I could have something, if I didn’t have Jens. Cara was the fifth. But Cara was different. Cara seemed like she was also the fifth.
“Anna,” Jens said.
“Yes.”
“Let’s talk about it tomorrow.”
We talked the next morning at the breakfast table. We’d both talked about possibilities before, abstractly, long ago – in our early thirties, in a phase where we’d read too much relationship theory and done nothing with it. Now we weren’t talking abstractly. We were talking about Cara, whom we’d met last night, and about what we wanted to do with her, if we did it.
“I don’t want to see her alone with you,” I said.
“Understood.”
“You too?”
“Me too. I don’t want to see you alone with her.”
“Then all three of us.”
“Or not at all.”
We took the Not-At-All seriously. We discussed what we would do if we did nothing. We’d enjoy the vacation, greet politely, maybe have dinner with Cara twice, go to the pool, see Sicily.
“Anna.”
“Yes.”
“If we don’t do it, we’ll think about it for the next two weeks.”
“I know.”
“If we do it, we’ll think about it later.”
“I know.”
“One kind of thinking is worse than the other.”
“Yes.”
We chose the second kind. We invited Cara over that same evening. She came, again with a bottle of wine, and this time she didn’t sit in the opposite chair but on the bench next to me, so close I felt her shoulder against mine.
“Cara,” I said. “We’d like to propose something to you. It’s unusual.”
She looked at me, then at Jens. “I expected something like this.”
“You expected what?”
“That you’d ask if I want to go to bed with you.”
It was so direct, so unguarded, that I choked on the wine and coughed. Jens laughed – a nervous but excited laugh. “Yes,” he said. “That’s it.”
“I’m working on a translation of Pavese,” Cara said. “The old translations are outdated. But I’m also working on myself. And I’ve decided to do things this summer that I haven’t done before. Things that change me.”
Her hand was now on my thigh – light, questioning. I looked at Jens. He nodded. I placed my hand on hers and said, “Then let’s start.”
It began on the veranda, under the blue light of the Sicilian night. Cara leaned toward me, her lips were soft and warm, her kiss was deep and demanding. I felt her tongue in my mouth, and my body reacted instantly – a hot pull between my legs that felt like I’d been waiting months for this kiss. I felt her hand on my neck, gently pushing me down, while she turned and kissed Jens too, with the same intensity.
I stood up, pulled her up. “Come to the bedroom.”
In the bedroom it was dark, only the moonlight fell through the window. I took off my dress without hesitation, stood naked before them. Jens looked at me the way he hadn’t looked at me in years – desiring, hungry, as if seeing me for the first time. Cara pulled off her top, her breasts were full, her nipples dark and hard. She let her skirt fall, stood there in a narrow slip that hugged her hips.
“Lie down,” she said to me.
I lay down on the bed, the sheet cool on my hot skin. Cara climbed onto me, straddling my stomach, her skin rubbing against mine. She leaned forward, her breasts hanging over my face, and kissed me again, while her hand wandered down, between my legs, over my slip. I was already wet, so fucking wet – the fabric was soaked through as she pushed it aside and ran her fingers over my moist cunt.
“Oh God,” I moaned.
“You’re so hot,” she whispered. “So wet for me.”
She pushed two fingers inside me, slowly, deep. I arched my back, pressing into her hand. Jens watched from the side, his hand on his cock through his pants. I saw his eyes, dark with lust, and that made me even wetter. Cara’s thumb circled my clit while her fingers fucked me, a steady rhythm that drove me crazy.
“I want to taste you,” she said, and slid down between my legs.
Her tongue was on me, hot and precise. She licked my clit in long strokes, then sucked it gently, her fingers still inside me. I grabbed her hair, pulled her closer. “Yes, yes, don’t stop.” I came hard, my hips bucking against her face, a wave of heat washing through me. I cried out, not caring if anyone heard.
When I was done, Cara climbed up and kissed me, my own taste on her lips. Jens had taken his cock out now, stroking it slowly. “Your turn,” Cara said to him. “But I want to watch.”
Jens came to the bed, his cock hard and thick. I took him in my mouth, tasting the salt of his skin, feeling him grow even harder. Cara watched, her hand between her own legs, her eyes fixed on us. I felt her gaze on me, and it was like a second touch. I sucked Jens deeper, taking him all the way, my tongue working his shaft.
“Fuck, Anna,” he groaned. “That’s so good.”
Cara came closer, her hand still on her cunt. She leaned in and licked my lips while I had Jens in my mouth, her tongue mixing with his taste. It was too much, too intense. I pulled away, gasping.
“I want you inside me,” I said to Jens. “Both of you.”
Jens lay on his back, and I straddled him, sliding down onto his cock. He filled me completely, his hands on my hips. Cara knelt behind me, her breasts pressed against my back, her hands reaching around to cup my breasts. She kissed my neck, my shoulder, while I rode Jens, my wetness coating him.
“Let me help,” Cara whispered, and her hand slipped between my legs, finding my clit. She rubbed it in circles while I moved on Jens, the pleasure building again. I was so full – his cock inside me, her fingers on my clit, her body against mine.
I came again, harder this time, my body shaking. Jens groaned and came inside me, his hot cum filling me. I collapsed onto his chest, breathing hard. Cara lay down beside us, her hand still moving on herself. I reached over and took her wrist, guiding her hand away. “Let me,” I said.
I turned her onto her back and spread her legs. Her cunt was glistening, wet and open. I lowered my head and licked her, tasting her for the first time. She was sweet and salty, her scent intoxicating. I fucked her with my tongue, then with my fingers, while Jens watched, his hand on my back. Cara came quickly, with a sharp cry, her body tensing under me.
We lay there afterward, the three of us tangled together, our skin slick with sweat. The moonlight had shifted. I didn’t know what time it was, and I didn’t care. We had five more days.
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