The couple next door: fantasising vs. having a threesome

Please help me welcoming Spanish writer Guillermina Torresi onto the Lust Zine! In her new series, she will guide us through the fun and fears of sex as a heterosexual couple living together. For all of you who have been fantasising about opening your monogamous bond with your partner, this one’s for you. Enjoy!

On the night of August 15, 2019, we ate each other's mouths for the first time. The kiss was the most anticipated, best constructed kiss in the history of kissing. After spending more than eight hours together - playing at getting to know and subtly exciting each other - we knew where and how the night would end. That kiss was only the starting point of a desire that would be building up for years; the sexual tension was palpable in the air whenever we were together.

That night, a sexual adventure without a break began. Our bond was that: sex in dozens of spaces, sex in dozens of positions, sex, sex, sex, sex, pure and wild sex. I didn't understand how our bodies instantly connected in a spark. The chemistry and bond that only come with time, we already had. It was very clear from the beginning: enjoy the pleasure together, enjoy the pleasure separately. Somehow, we were building a bond without intending to, and that's exactly how we fell in love.

Little by little, we understood that we were a couple. The emotions were no longer fleeting, we missed each other, and the time together was much more valuable than initially. In that transition, one thing was evident: our relationship was on a heterosexual and monogamous basis. My mind took on the rules, and my body followed, yet I kept thinking: Monogamous? Us? How will we do it? What is beyond that?

That's why I give rise to this column, where I'll guide you through my desires and my fears and our desires and fears as a couple. Those that arise when you live together with your partner, and those you talk about when your face falls exhausted with pleasure on the soaked sheets where you've just enjoyed the wonder of boundlessly connecting with another human body. I'm Guillermina Torresi, and this is The Couple Next Door.

I fantasised on a third person

The perfect interlocking of our bodies doesn't come out of nowhere. The understanding of where his hands should go, the movement my legs make, the exact point of gaze, the naturalness with which we change poses… All this coupling that seems magical has —at least I think so— an origin. The reason why it happens in such a smooth way is none other than communication. We have talked so many times about what gives us
pleasure, what our fantasies are, and how far we would be able to go that we've generated an intimacy where this connection becomes real. I know which kind of pornography he likes, and he knows what I like to watch. I know what he imagines, and he knows what I'm thinking about. Although this may seem ideal, we still have a long way to go in this exchange. I believe that you don't need to know everything about the other person to enjoy good sex. And I think that's why, many times, our imagination travels in silence. We don't know if the other person is ready to listen to what our mind has just crafted.

We were in a hotel room we rented for a weekend. We hadn't seen each other for a long time, and we had a lot of accumulated desire. We only wanted to get into bed, naked, and fuck until we were fully satiated. Sex begins with that kiss you give to each other when you know from the way your body tingles that it's going to happen. We got around, we stopped, we smoked, he ate my pussy, I ate his cock, we changed the rhythm: slow, fast, slow, fast, and when I was about to reach an orgasm, I closed my eyes and my mind began to travel; I imagined there was a girl next to me touching my breasts. I imagined him kissing her, then grabbing her hair. From there, I included more participants in the whole scene. In my mind, the room was full of people; they were watching us and playing with us and I, with that mental journey, had one of the most fantastic orgasms I've ever had.

Leave it as fantasy, or make it real?

It's a long, long way from fantasy to fact. French sexologist, researcher, and writer Valérie Tasso explains it perfectly: "There is a fundamental difference between fantasy and desire. Within the imaginary, fantasy answers the question "what am I capable of imagining," while desire answers another question "what do I want?". And the question is, are they compatible? A massive door opened in my head to a fantasy that had generated exorbitant pleasure in me, but is that what I wanted to happen in reality? So, to understand what had happened, I talked about it with my partner. With my body calm and mind clear, I was no longer attracted to what I had imagined.

However, while we talked, we thought it might be exciting to have a threesome. I have never had one, and neither has my partner, but our sexual connection is so strong that we felt we could do it. Every time I'm excited, my mind imagines more people, and it's incredible how potent this fantasy is in me. But the reality is very different; I'm scared to death when I think about it. All my insecurities appear like giant monsters if I visualise sharing that intimacy with someone else. The reality constantly fights the desire to explore new places and do it with him. The question is, what if we do it and it doesn't turn me on? What if that fantasy makes all we have worse instead of more pleasurable? I don't think I'm ready to face a conflict that has its origin in a sexual encounter, and the confidence and security that I have in my partner and myself must be solid so that it doesn't destabilize us.

The thing is that we're still considering this fantasy. We've talked many times about making it a reality - even in a less invasive way, perhaps going to a swingers club and seeing how we feel, then talking about it and making a decision. I really want to do it, but I don't know if I can… and that doubt could create a wound in our bond?

I guess this desire also exists because of my desire to have sex with a woman - something I haven't done either and would love to try. If I think about it now, it could be a topic I could write about. It's a desire that has lived in me for a long time and that I haven't had the opportunity to fulfil. And it's, of course, something I need to discuss with my partner because… How can I make this wish come true without hurting him? Or better, could this wish be something that could hurt him? I don't know, maybe not.

One thing is for sure; it is indeed necessary to talk about everything. In this case - in this dichotomy between fantasy and desire - I think that the solution lies in setting boundaries, communicating with a lot of honesty, and being open to understanding each other without judgment or pressure.