I Discovered My Wife Was Receiving Visits While She Worked

I’d suspected it for weeks. Marina had never been careful, and I had become an expert at pretending not to see what I saw. But some signs can’t be covered up: fingerprints on her hip, a different smell in the sheets, that loose way of walking she had some afternoons. Every time I came home from the office, I found one more clue. I no longer had any doubt that my wife was giving herself to someone else while I was away.

That night, confirmation came in the most brutal way. I was looking for a towel in the bathroom hamper when I saw her black lace panties lying right on top. The crotch was stained, with a thick, still-warm stain that wasn’t hers. I stood there with the garment in my hand, staring at it beneath the bathroom’s yellow light. From the position of the stain, I understood what had happened that very afternoon, while I was closing out the quarterly spreadsheet at my desk.

I should have felt angry. Instead, I felt my cock harden all at once, hard as a rock, throbbing on its own inside my pants. I lowered my zipper and pulled it out. I smelled the fabric slowly, that scent of someone else’s sex, of a used body, and touched myself slowly, unhurriedly, imagining Marina moaning for another man. I came right there, standing up, biting my lips so I wouldn’t make a sound. Then I folded the panties exactly as they had been, left them where I’d found them, washed my hands, and went down to the kitchen as if I knew nothing.

***

Marina was washing the dishes, wearing only a long T-shirt that barely covered her ass. The fabric rode up every time she leaned over the sink. I came up behind her, wrapped my arms around her waist, and began kissing her neck slowly, right behind her ear, where I knew she lost her head.

—You’re feeling affectionate today —she murmured, without pulling away.

—I missed you all day —I lied against her skin.

My hands moved up to her tits, heavy and hot beneath the cotton, and I squeezed them until I felt her nipples harden against my palms. She arched backward, rubbing her ass against my cock, which was already hard again. I lifted her shirt with one hand. She had nothing underneath. The panties in the hamper were proof she’d taken them off hours earlier.

I spread her ass cheeks with both hands and looked. Her ass was red, still marked, with that unmistakable swelling of having been thoroughly used that same afternoon. I didn’t need to ask anything. I ran a finger along her slit and she trembled, letting out a long sigh.

—You’re so fucking tasty —I whispered in her ear, slipping the tip of my finger inside her without effort, because it went in by itself.

Marina moaned and leaned farther over the sink, spreading her legs. I lowered my hand and touched her pussy: it was soaked, her lips swollen and hot. I worked her with two fingers while kissing her back, feeling her wet my entire hand. She began moving her hips against me, seeking me out, panting harder and harder.

—Fuck me —she whispered—. Please.

But I wasn’t in a hurry. I enjoyed the thrill of knowing what had already happened in that kitchen, in that bed, while I worked. I turned her around, lifted her, and sat her on the cold counter. I spread her legs and lowered my head. I licked her slowly, with my tongue flat, searching for the taste of the afternoon mixed with her own. She tasted of recent sex. Marina grabbed my hair and pressed me against her, moaning without trying to hide it.

—Like that —she panted—. Don’t stop.

I licked her until she came, trembling all over, squeezing my head between her thighs. Then I lowered her, put her on her knees on the kitchen floor, and pushed my cock into her mouth. Marina sucked me hungrily, looking up at me with shining eyes, taking me all the way down. I held her head with both hands and set the pace, slow and deep, feeling her throat contract.

—Then I’ll fill you completely —I promised hoarsely.

***

I carried her almost in my arms to the bedroom and threw her facedown onto the bed. I spread her ass cheeks again, spit directly on her, and entered slowly. Her ass received me warm, tight but soft, as if it were still adjusting to something larger than my fingers. I started gently, enjoying every inch, listening to her moan into the pillow.

—Tell me the truth —I whispered, sinking all the way in—. Who was here today?

She only moaned louder and pushed her ass back against me.

—Nobody —she lied between pants—. Just you.

I gave her ass a sharp slap. The skin reddened instantly beneath the mark.

—Don’t lie to me —I said, without stopping my movements—. I know your body better than anyone.

I grabbed her hips and began fucking her harder, with thrusts that made her ass bounce against my pelvis. The sound was obscene and wet, mixed with her moans. I slipped two fingers into her pussy while continuing to fuck her from behind, and that finally broke her. Marina exploded with a long cry, squeezing me completely, trembling from head to toe.

I couldn’t hold out any longer. I drove myself all the way in and emptied myself inside her, feeling everything mingle, mine and what was already there. I stayed on top of her, breathless, listening to her breathe. That night, with my face buried in the pillow and my cum inside her, I promised myself I would find out who he was. Not to put an end to it. To watch him.

***

The next morning I went to the office as usual, but I couldn’t concentrate. In every meeting, the image of the stained panties and Marina’s marked ass kept crossing my mind. In the middle of the morning, I got a message from her: “I miss you, sweetheart. Come home early.” I smiled to myself in front of the computer. I knew how to read between the lines. That sentence wasn’t meant for me.

I decided to come home early. I left the car two blocks away and entered the building through the service staircase, without making a sound. Instead of putting my key in the door, I went up to the shared rooftop and climbed down to the little balcony overlooking our bedroom. I hid behind the flowerpots and looked through the gap in the curtain.

And I saw him.

It was Hernán, the neighbor from the sixth floor, that big guy who was always overly friendly in the elevator. Marina was kneeling in the middle of our bed, completely naked, sucking his cock with a devotion I had never seen in her. He held her head with both hands and set the pace mercilessly. She let him, drooling, touching her pussy with one hand while looking up at him.

—That’s how I like it —he told her in a hoarse voice—. Like a good girl.

He lifted her, put her on all fours, and spat on her ass. He shoved his cock in with a single thrust, and Marina let out a cry that could be heard all the way to the balcony. He started fucking her hard, slapping her so that her skin turned red. The bed creaked with every thrust, and my wife’s tits swayed with every blow.

—Harder —she begged him, shamelessly—. Don’t stop.

I pulled my cock out right there on the balcony and began stroking myself slowly, watching my wife give herself over without guilt. Hernán slipped a finger into her pussy while fucking her from behind, and Marina came trembling, biting the pillow. When he finished, he drove himself all the way in and came inside her with a long groan. As he pulled out, a thick strand ran down between her legs. Marina stayed there, panting, her body open and satisfied.

I came against the balcony wall, unable to believe how hot it was to watch my wife turned into something else. That afternoon, when I arrived “as usual,” I found her showered, smiling, and dressed in clean clothes. She kissed me as if nothing had happened. And I, who already knew everything, kissed her back, feeling the thrill growing inside me.

***

The following days became a secret routine. I began inventing meetings, short business trips, and nonexistent outings, just so I could come back and spy on her. I discovered that Hernán wasn’t the only one.

On Tuesday, while I was supposedly at a training session out of town, Bruno arrived, the young man who delivered vegetables from the market on the corner. Young, skinny, quiet. Marina let him into the living room as if it were the most normal thing in the world. She knelt, pulled down his pants, and sucked his cock with the same hunger I had seen with the neighbor. Then he bent her over the dining table, lifted her skirt, and shoved himself into her in one stroke.

—Your husband has no idea —he told her, fucking her quickly—. That every Tuesday I leave you like this.

—Keep going —she moaned, gripping the edge of the table—. More.

When he came, Marina knelt again and cleaned him with her tongue, slowly, wasting nothing. I watched it all from the rooftop, touching myself again, dizzy with the thrill.

On Thursday, another one appeared: Iván, the trainer at the gym my wife attended. Big, muscular, with arms that looked twice the size of mine. That afternoon he had her for almost an hour in our own bed. First he ate her pussy until he made her come screaming. Then he turned her over and fucked her from behind with such force that the headboard slammed against the wall. Marina screamed so loudly I thought the neighbors would come upstairs.

—Tell me who this belongs to —he demanded, pulling her hair.

—Yours —she answered, lost in it—. It’s all yours.

Marina came again and again, laughing and crying at the same time, begging for more. When he finished, he left her lying facedown, exhausted, her body open and her hair stuck to her face. I came twice in a row watching them from my hiding place.

Every night I came home and fucked her with a new fury, pushing into the places where others had been hours earlier. And while I had her beneath me, I whispered in her ear, asking who it had been that day. She never answered me with words. She only moaned louder, squeezed me completely, and came as if the question itself turned her on. Then she fell asleep against my chest, peaceful, as if I knew nothing.

***

Weeks passed like that. I already knew the schedule by heart: Hernán almost every lunchtime, Bruno on Tuesdays, Iván on Thursdays. Some afternoons I even crossed paths with them without their knowing, in the elevator or the hallway, and held their gaze with a calm they didn’t understand. Once—just once—I arrived to find her with two of them at the same time, taking turns, and had to press myself against the balcony wall so I wouldn’t cry out too.

I couldn’t stop. The thrill had trapped me in a way I would never confess to anyone. My marriage had become this: a woman I desired more precisely because I knew she belonged to everyone, and a man who watched her in silence and loved her more each time.

One night, after spying on her all afternoon, I came home and found her asleep. I lay down beside her, slowly spread her legs, and entered her. She woke moaning in the darkness.

—I love you —I whispered, beginning to move slowly—. And I don’t care what you do when I’m not here. I like knowing about it.

Marina lay still for a second. Then she arched against me, squeezed me completely, and, for the first time, answered in a voice hoarse from so much moaning.

—Then keep watching —she said, turning her head slightly on the pillow—. Because tomorrow all three of them are coming together. And I left the curtain open for you.

I came instantly, buried inside her, understanding that there was no going back. My love for Marina had become this: watching her, knowing she was desired by everyone, and still being, every night, the only one who went back to sleep beside her.