I Gave My Wife Permission in Front of the Boat Skipper

The sailboat «Brisa Salada» had been anchored for two hours in an unnamed cove, sheltered by a little islet that barely appeared on the charts. The water had that glass-green clarity where you could make out every stone on the seabed and the schools of fish moving beneath the hull. It was the third day of the crossing. The mid-afternoon sun beat down hard on the teak deck, but the breeze made it bearable.

Nuria was lying face down on a bow cushion, wearing a black bikini with loose ties that looked like they were about to come undone with every breath. Her skin was already tanned, a shade darker than the day we had boarded, and her light brown hair was tousled by salt and wind. She had untied the top so it wouldn’t leave marks on her back, and with every movement I held my breath.

I watched her from the cockpit, a beer barely touched in my hands. For months I had been turning the same idea over and over: me standing still, watching, while another man touched her, kissed her, made her scream in ways I never could. At first she rejected the fantasy outright. She called me sick, said not a chance. But over the weeks she began to go quiet, to breathe differently when I whispered it to her in bed. On the last few nights she got wet instantly as soon as I described the scene in her ear.

Hugo came out of the cabin carrying two cold beers. He was the skipper we had hired for the week, in his thirties, skin weathered by salt, short dark hair, and pale eyes that stood out against everything else. He had the broad back of a man who had spent years hauling lines, and he had taken off his shirt long ago.

—Everything all right out here? —he asked in that calm voice of his, stretching the words out—. The forecast says calm until nightfall. We can stay anchored as long as you want.

I nodded, but my gaze went back to Nuria again. She had just rolled onto her side, propped up on one elbow, and the movement had shifted one of the triangles just enough to expose the curve of her breast. She made no move to fix it. On the contrary: she stretched her arms over her head, arched her back, and let out a long sigh.

Hugo saw it too. His eyes lingered for a second and then came back to me with a half smile that promised nothing, but denied nothing either.

Nuria finally sat up, tied the top of her bikini with deliberate slowness, and walked barefoot toward us. She sat beside me, put a hand on my thigh, and looked straight at the skipper.

—What are you talking about, guys? —she asked in a soft, almost innocent voice.

—Nothing important —Hugo replied, shrugging—. The sea, the weather, how good it feels here with nobody around.

She smiled, but there was something new in that smile: a mischievous edge and nerves at the same time. She glanced at me out of the corner of her eye.

—Baby… —she said quietly, even though Hugo was a meter away—. Are we still talking about last night?

I felt my pulse rush up to my temples. The night before, in the cabin, I had brought up the subject again. I had described in detail what it would be like to see her with him. Nuria hadn’t said no. She had only moaned louder and come clenching around me.

—Now? —I asked, my voice a little rough.

She nodded slowly. She looked at Hugo, who pretended to be watching the horizon but was listening to every word.

—I want to talk about it with both of you —she said at last, surprising us—. No beating around the bush.

Hugo turned his head slowly, raising one eyebrow.

—With me too? —he asked, with a trace of genuine curiosity.

Nuria drew a deep breath.

—Yes. Damián has spent months fantasizing about seeing me with another man. With you, specifically. Ever since the first day you came aboard, he hasn’t stopped imagining it. He tells me in bed, describes what it would be like, and I… at first it made my head spin. Jealousy, fear, embarrassment. But these days, with the sun, the sea, feeling so desired, I’ve realized it turns me on. A lot.

I shifted in my seat. The pressure in my swimsuit was now almost painful.

Hugo set his beer down on the table calmly and folded his arms.

—You two are direct, that’s for sure —he said with a low laugh—. So what exactly do you want? For me to join your game?

Nuria looked at me, asking for permission with her eyes. I swallowed. Jealousy burned my stomach, but desire won out.

—Nuria… —I began, my voice trembling but firm—. You have my permission. In front of me. I want to see you. I want to see you kiss him, I want to see you moan with him, I want to see you enjoy yourself in a way you never do with me. And then I want to make love to you myself, knowing you’re still mine even after he’s made you scream.

A heavy silence fell. Only the slap of water against the hull and the three of us breathing fast.

Nuria let out a barely audible moan and bit her lip.

—Thank you, baby —she whispered. Then she turned to Hugo—. And you? Do you feel like it, in front of my husband?

The skipper ran a hand over the back of his neck, smiling crookedly.

—You sure know how to put it —he said—. Of course I do. But no rushing. I want you both to enjoy it.

***

Nuria stood up and walked over to him until her breasts brushed his bare torso. She slid her hands up Hugo’s chest, feeling the hard, hot muscle under his skin.

—Kiss me —she asked softly, almost an order.

Hugo took her by the nape with one large hand and kissed her. First gently, exploring; then with his tongue, possessive. Nuria moaned against his mouth, her hands moving down his abdomen. I watched it all from a meter away, unable to move, my heart about to burst out of my chest.

She pulled away for a moment, panting, and looked for me.

—Are you okay, baby? —she asked, and there was tenderness underneath the desire.

—Keep going —I muttered—. Please, keep going.

She knelt slowly in front of Hugo without taking her eyes off me. She took him in her hand, caressed him, and leaned down. What she did next she had done with me a thousand times, but never with that kind of surrender, never with that hunger. She kept looking at me while she did it, and I understood that this was the real game: not him, but the way she showed me how much she liked being watched by me.

—You see, Damián? —she murmured, drawing back for a moment—. You’ve never seen me like this, have you?

I shook my head, my breathing ragged.

—No… never —I admitted, my voice broken by the mix of jealousy and arousal.

Hugo lifted her with ease and sat her on the edge of the aft table. He untied the bottom bikini strings with a gentle tug and the fabric fell onto the deck. He ran his fingers along the insides of her thighs, unhurried, until she threw her head back and let out a long moan.

—You’re trembling —he said quietly.

—That’s why —she replied, and pointed at me with her chin—. Because he’s watching me.

***

What happened after that I remember in fragments, as if the heat and desire had erased the rest. I remember Nuria arching over the table, I remember her nails dug into Hugo’s shoulders, I remember her voice repeating my name between gasps, as if she wanted to make sure I was still there. I remember that every time she looked at me, the jealousy turned into something hotter, more urgent.

—Come —she said at one point, stretching a hand toward me—. Kiss me. I want to feel you close while this is happening.

I moved closer. I kissed her desperately while her body moved with every thrust, and I felt her muffled moans against my mouth. She smelled of salt, sweat, desire. I had never felt her so much mine and so foreign to me at the same time, and the paradox drove me crazy.

She came screaming, her body convulsing, clutching at both of us at once. I didn’t last much longer; it was enough to see her unravel to finish almost instantly, barely touching myself, with my forehead pressed to hers.

Hugo pulled away with a hoarse grunt and collapsed onto the bench, catching his breath. Nuria remained stretched out on the table, panting, an exhausted smile crossing her face.

—Fuck… —she whispered—. That was… I can’t find the word.

She slowly sat up, hair stuck to her forehead, cheeks flushed, and reached for my hand.

—Are you really okay? —she asked, and I saw that for her this question mattered more than everything that had come before—. I don’t want this to hurt us.

I brushed a strand of hair out of her face.

—I’m better than okay —I said, and it was true—. I just watched the woman of my life enjoy herself like never before. And at the end of the day you’re still climbing into the bunk with me.

She smiled, this time without an edge, only warmth.

—Always, dummy —she murmured, and kissed me.

***

Hugo understood that he was in the way. He got up, picked his shirt off the floor, and left us alone with a discreet gesture before heading up to the helm.

—I’ll get the anchorage ready for the night —he called from above, as if nothing had just happened—. Let me know when you want dinner.

The two of us stayed on the bow cushion, tangled together, watching the sun sink toward the water and turn it orange. She rested her head on my chest and I wrapped an arm around her still-warm back.

—Was it like you imagined? —she asked after a while.

I thought about it.

—No —I admitted—. It was better. But not because of him. Because of the way you looked at me while it was happening.

She laughed softly against my skin.

—I knew it —she said—. All this time you thought the fantasy was seeing me with another man. And it turns out the fantasy was that I chose you, again, in the end.

I didn’t answer. It wasn’t necessary. The breeze had cooled, the water had turned a deep blue, and for the first time in months I felt I was missing absolutely nothing. I held her tighter and we stayed like that, listening to the sea, until night fell over the cove.