Cuckold in Barcelona
Copyright© 2026 by Quest12345
Chapter 8. An unexpected interruption.
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 8. An unexpected interruption. - A couple decides to make the husband's fantasy come true. Little by little, they both become hooked on the experience. I usually like to set my stories in a generic country with more universal habits or foods so that everyone can identify with them better. In this case, due to a request, the story is set in Barcelona, mentioning places and habits specific to Catalonia.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Romantic Heterosexual Fiction Cuckold Sharing Oral Sex Sex Toys Voyeurism
Just when it seemed the situation was stabilising, an unexpected turn of events occurred.
After our first encounter at our house, the arrangement settled into a sort of routine, and over several weekends, on Friday or Saturday nights, David would come round, have vigorous sex with my wife, and then leave. I would then make love to her, trying to satisfy her as best I could, though I’d long since given up any hope of competing sexually with David.
In any case, we both felt good. She was very sexually satisfied, feeling attractive and desired by two men. And I was satisfied to see her so happy, enjoying sex with her and the excitement of seeing my fantasy come true.
As for David, he was enjoying a guaranteed sexual relationship with no strings attached, so he couldn’t complain, and he felt increasingly confident and less awkward around me, even in the office.
Of course, he didn’t say a word to anyone about it, at least as far as I knew, but he grew more and more confident.
Proof of this came one Monday morning at coffee break, when, as on every Monday, several of us colleagues were in the break room having coffee and discussing the weekend’s football results, and whilst I was enthusiastically defending the superiority of my team, Barcelona, over David’s team, Madrid, the tension between us began to rise.
Then David, looking at me, started slipping double entendres into the conversation – phrases that went unnoticed by the others, but which I interpreted as having a sexual undertone. Phrases like: “We in Madrid SLAM the ball right into the BACK of the net”, “We’ve SCORED MORE goals this weekend”, “Our SHOTS are more POWERFUL”, “We LAST LONGER in matches”, and “Our FANS are MORE SATISFIED with us than with you lot”.
The situation annoyed me, but at the same time, his boasting about his superiority in bed in front of our mates—even though only he and I realised it—humiliated and aroused me at the same time.
In the end, the tension eased, and we shook hands, bringing both the public and private debates to a close.
Apart from that incident, those weeks passed without a hitch until suddenly David told us that we wouldn’t be able to see each other for a while. It turned out that a great-uncle of his, the brother of the great-aunt from whom he had inherited the house in Barcelona where David lived, had to spend some time in Barcelona for medical treatment.
This relative usually lived in a mountain village in Catalonia, where he was looked after by a son, but there was no hospital there offering the specific treatment he required, so he had to spend a few weeks living with David, as his son was unable to travel due to his work.
Given his age and poor health, David would have to look after him, particularly at night, so we wouldn’t be able to meet up. Iris didn’t take the news well at all; she was very comfortable with the situation. For my part, it didn’t affect me that much, and at the office, the main change would be that David would be working from home for a few hours.
A few days later, one evening when I got home, Iris said to me, “I’ve spoken to David. It turns out his great-uncle, who’s passionate about Catalonia, is constantly nagging him about the fact that David knows nothing about Barcelona or the history of Catalonia. David confirmed that the truth is, he hasn’t visited anything since he arrived.”
“And?”
‘He’s asked me if I could act as his guide and show him the city—the monuments, museums, the history... ‘
‘When? How?’ I asked.
“You know I’ve got a bit of free time on Wednesday afternoons. I thought I could show him around and give him a tour of the city. I reckon he misses seeing me too.”
“I don’t know...” I said, hesitantly.
“It’d just be a walk and, at most, a coffee. We’re not talking about sex.”
“Do you miss having your admirer? Do you want to go on a date?” I asked her jokingly.
“Maybe...” she replied teasingly.
I thought, well, it didn’t matter; David didn’t have any friends in the city yet, and it would do Iris good to have an admirer by her side.
And so began a series of Wednesday afternoons during which Iris showed David around the city. David would ask my permission to be away, using the ‘official’ excuse—for the sake of the company and any other colleagues who might overhear—that he had to look after his uncle. In the evening, Iris would tell me what they’d been to see.
One evening, sitting on the sofa, Iris said to me, “You know, I’ve been thinking...”
“About what?”
“David hasn’t been having sex these past few weeks; you and I have, although for me it’s not the same. When I make love to you, although I enjoy it very much and feel good with you, it’s not as explosive as it is with David.”
“What are you getting at?” I asked, feeling uneasy, especially after remembering how much more she enjoyed being with David than with me.
“I don’t think it’s just about him physically. The situation, the feeling of doing something forbidden, something daring and taboo—fucking someone who isn’t my husband whilst my husband watches—makes me enjoy it more.”
What she said reassured me; at least I wasn’t that much worse than him in bed. The setting contributed quite a lot. I got the feeling that Iris wanted to ask me for something, although perhaps she didn’t quite know herself what she wanted.
I encouraged her to continue, “I understand. It’s been very exciting for me too. When we make love these days, it’s not as intense as when we do it after you’ve been with him. I’m sorry we had to stop just when things were getting good.”
“I’m glad to hear you say that. The thing is, I was thinking ... To make it just as exciting for everyone and so we’re all really keen to have more encounters ... Er ... That you and I only make love when we have encounters with David. That way, it’ll always be very special and intense for everyone.”
I was taken aback by the suggestion. Instead of making love whenever we felt like it, we would only be doing it after a session with David. It meant giving up a lot. Only doing it when he did, and after him, always sticking my cock into my wife’s pussy, soaked in his semen, and with a condom on top of that.
On the other hand, the anticipation could be exciting, and when we did have sex, it would be much more intense. It was true that during the time we’d gone without seeing David, the frequency had dropped, as had the enthusiasm.
It didn’t occur to me at the time to suggest that if I had sex with Iris the same number of times as he did (probably fewer times in fact, since he could come several times in one night and I only once or at most twice), the argument that I should use a condom because the risk was greater in his case didn’t make sense, although it could also be argued that in any case, the lower the risk, the better.
I found myself thinking about that idea of limiting ourselves to having sex only when we were with David. The idea was humiliating: not being able to make love except when my wife’s lover did, when she was satisfied and sated, and with a condom. But although my brain told me I shouldn’t accept it, thinking about it made my cock hard as a rock.
My wife noticed and started stroking my cock with her hand whilst saying, “It seems the idea turns you on, so I think we have to put it into practice.”
“I don’t know, I’m not sure,” I replied, my voice trembling with excitement.
“Well, your body doesn’t seem to agree,” she said, without stopping her stroking. “I think we can seal the deal by making you come with my hand.”
“No ... Yes ... Maybe...” I stammered, growing more and more aroused, whilst the movement of her hand made it very difficult for me to concentrate...
“Come on! Say yes,” she urged me provocatively, slowing down the pace and easing the pressure on my hypersensitive cock.
I had my eyes closed, enjoying both imagining the scenario she’d set up and my wife’s hand stroking my cock.
She was toying with me, teasing me and pushing me to give an answer, without which it was clear she wouldn’t let me come. Finally, I couldn’t take it any longer; in a broken voice I said, “Yes...” and immediately came. An intense climax swept through my body from head to toe, and a huge stain of semen spread across my trousers, still gushing from my swollen member.
Iris looked at me with a smile and said, “Now it’s my turn. Would you use your wonderful tongue to make me come?”
I didn’t hesitate. I knelt between her legs, pulled her skirt aside, pulled down her knickers and began licking her vulva with all my enthusiasm and skill. She was already wet from the conversation, and I quickly brought her to an orgasm, followed by several more.
When we were done, she said to me, “Well, from now on, the three of us are going to be absolutely horny until David’s relative leaves. I’m already really keen, even though you and I have made love quite a few times since our meetings with David were interrupted.”
Two weeks into this new arrangement, and having had no sex, I came home one Wednesday to find Iris looking very restless. Given the pace we’d been setting over the last few months—making love practically every day, sometimes more than once, and above all enjoying it immensely—these two weeks of abstinence were certainly making us both restless.
It was a truly exciting game: touching each other or seeing each other naked, yet not being able to make love. However, this time I noticed something different about Iris; a look of concern was evident on her face.
She threw herself at me as soon as I arrived, started kissing and hugging me, and told me that she loved me very much and that I was the most important thing in her life.
Then she took me to the bedroom and started taking my clothes off, threw me onto the bed and undressed herself. I looked at her, partly surprised and partly uneasy.
She straddled me and began to speak to me very seriously, “I have something to tell you.”
I replied jokingly, “Let me guess, are you as desperate as I am to make love, and are we going to forget about waiting for David?”
She looked at me and began to repeat in a sorrowful voice, almost on the verge of tears, “I’m sorry, Oriol! I’m so sorry! I’m sorry! Forgive me!”
Worried, I asked her, “Tell me what’s wrong. What’s happened?”
“You know I was supposed to go with David to the Picasso Museum this afternoon, don’t you?”
“Yes, I remember. We haven’t been there for ages.”
“The thing is, after nearly two hours strolling through the galleries arm in arm, leaning in to read the labels on the paintings or looking at the catalogue, breathing in the scent of his body, his cologne, feeling the firmness of his muscles, and watching him walk with his athletic build, I started to get more and more turned on. It had been over a month since I’d had sex with him and two weeks without any sex at all, and my body went haywire. I’m so sorry, Oriol. Forgive me!”
“But what happened?”
“You remember that on the ground floor, as well as the ticket office and cloakroom, there are the toilets...”
“Yes.”
“And there’s a large toilet adapted for wheelchairs...”
“Yes.”