Marta Came Back from the Bar and Had to Confess It to Me

Darling, I have something to tell you. That’s how it all began, with those exact words, and my hands are still trembling as I write them.

My name is Andrés, and I’ve just turned fifty-eight. My wife, Marta, is sixty. We’re from Zaragoza, and we’ve been together since we met at a language academy, back when we were both little more than kids in far too much of a hurry to live.

Even in those early years, I began to suspect that Marta looked at other men in a way that wasn’t entirely innocent.

Over time, those suspicions became mixed up with the fantasies she whispered to me in bed while she slowly jerked me off, her mouth pressed against my ear, telling me to let some other guy split her in two, one with a bigger cock than mine. I never knew whether what came out of her mouth was pure imagination or whether she had really let another man fuck her. And the strange thing was that, instead of turning me off, the doubt turned me on. It made my cock rock-hard to imagine her with her legs spread, a stranger fucking her right up to the balls, her screaming as she came in a bed that wasn’t ours.

Last night she came home after going out with her friends, and the moment I saw her I knew the fantasy had fallen short.

***

Marta is a mature woman who wears her years with quiet audacity. She has a wavy mane of reddish-brown hair that always looks a little tousled, as though she had just gotten out of a bed that wasn’t ours. Her face, with its pronounced features and thin lips, almost always wears a half-smile—the smile of someone who knows perfectly well that she’s being watched.

She still has a figure that turns heads in the street. Big, firm tits, which she emphasizes with deep necklines and beautifully cared-for fair skin. Her strong, shapely legs are displayed in skirts that barely cover what they need to, revealing the tops of the dark stockings I love so much—the ones that cut into her thighs and promise a wet pussy a handspan higher.

When she walked through the door after midnight, there was a spark of adrenaline in her eyes. She didn’t turn on the main light. She stayed beneath the glow of the corner lamp, breathing hard, disheveled, aroused. She sat down opposite me and, her voice laden with something you could almost touch, began to tell me in crude language how she had let herself be fucked that very night.

—Hi, darling… I have something to tell you —she blurted out, approaching with a feline step—. But promise me you won’t get angry.

She dropped onto the sofa beside me. She wasn’t looking for refuge. She wanted to corner me with her confession.

***

She told me she had been with her friends, out for drinks on an ordinary night, until the atmosphere in the place suddenly changed. A guy had just walked in, and the moment she saw him, something in her body surrendered before she could think.

—Andrés, you see… —she began, biting her lip—. We were there, chatting and laughing, and suddenly the door opened and he walked in. A young guy, handsome in an almost insolent way, with a presence that took your breath away. I was frozen to my chair. Our eyes met instantly, and it wasn’t an ordinary glance. It was a look that ran down my back like a shiver and went straight to my pussy.

She paused. She was breathing with difficulty and placed her hands on her thighs, squeezing the fabric of her skirt.

—I felt him undressing me with his eyes, running over every inch of me. And instead of looking away, I returned his gaze with an invitation so clear that I felt ashamed of myself. Just from that, Andrés, my body betrayed you. I felt heat rising up my legs, my panties soaked in a matter of seconds, my pussy swelling beneath my skirt as if I already had him inside me. The rest of the bar disappeared. It was just him and me. I gestured that I was going to the bathroom, waiting for him to follow me. And follow me he certainly did.

There was no beating around the bush. She looked me in the eyes and, with a coldness that chilled me from within, told me how she had led him to the restroom.

—He grabbed me by the arm and pulled me inside —she whispered, recreating the scene with her hands—. He kissed me hungrily, with his whole tongue inside my mouth, and I was already feeling for his bulge through his trousers. Andrés, he was hard as a rock; you could see his entire cock pressing against the fabric. He undid the bolt and turned me against the door. I undid his belt with clumsy fingers, lowered his zipper, and he pulled out his cock himself—thick, veiny, longer than yours, darling, I’m not going to lie. He put it in my hand and whispered in my ear, “Suck it, pretty girl. You came out tonight looking for this.” And I knelt right there, on the filthy bathroom floor, my stockings rubbing against the tiles, and took the whole thing into my mouth.

Marta had gotten to her feet in front of me and was speaking with her eyes closed, reliving every second. She ran her tongue over her thin lips as if she could still taste him.

—I sucked him like a bitch, Andrés. I held the base with both hands, swallowing him until he hit the back of my throat. He held me by the hair and pushed my face against his groin, called me a mature slut, told me he loved filthy old women like me. I drooled, saliva ran down my chin and wet his balls, and he kept thrusting into my mouth. At one point he pulled his cock out and slapped it against my lips, my cheeks, marked my face with it. His balls tightened and I thought he was going to come in my mouth, but he stopped dead. “Not here, slut. I want to empty myself inside you.”

He ripped off my panties in one pull. I heard them tear. He lifted me by one arm, turned me around, and slammed me against the sink. He hiked my skirt up to my waist and kicked my legs apart. He drove two fingers into my pussy without warning and let out a wicked laugh: “You’re soaked, bitch. I got you wet without even touching you.” And then he put it inside me.

***

She told me about the cold tiles against her nipples when she bent over, the fogged-up mirror where she could see her distraught face while that stranger drilled her pussy from behind. She gave me details that hurt and that, at the same time, I couldn’t stop listening to: the hard smack of his hips against my wife’s ass, the wet slapping sound of his cock going in and out, his open hand landing on her buttock with a smack that echoed through the bathroom, her tits hanging out of her unfastened bra, swaying with every thrust.

—He fucked me hard, Andrés, very hard. He grabbed me by the hips and pulled me backward to bury himself in me all the way. I bit the palm of my hand so I wouldn’t scream, but moans escaped me and he laughed. “Scream, mature woman, let them outside know they’re breaking your cunt.” He put his fingers in my mouth to silence me, and I sucked them as if they were his cock. They tasted of me, they tasted of my pussy, and I didn’t care.

She closed her eyes for a second. Her chest was heaving.

—He changed positions. He pulled his cock out, sat me down hard on the edge of the sink, and got between my legs. He looked me in the eyes as he sank back inside me, very slowly, inch by inch, so I could feel all of him. My tits were out; he bit them, sucked my nipples with his whole mouth, and I dug my heels into his ass so he wouldn’t stop. He began thrusting faster and faster, until the porcelain creaked beneath me. I wrapped my arms around his neck and begged in his ear, “Come inside me, please, come inside me, fill me up.” I didn’t think twice, Andrés. I asked him like a bitch in heat.

And sure enough, between gasps, he finished by emptying himself inside her without asking permission, with the hoarse roar of a stranger unloading in someone else’s pussy.

—I came while he was still inside me —she said, getting to her feet and beginning to unbutton her blouse with a provocative smile—. I came at the same time as him, feeling him fill me in hot spurts, feeling it spill over inside me. Look between my legs, Andrés. It’s still coming out, fresh, hanging there like a thread.

She stood there, offering me another man’s trail as if it were a trophy. She wasn’t looking for forgiveness. She wanted to arouse me with her betrayal, forcing me to take part in the end of her adventure.

—Clean me properly, baby… eat all his cum. That’s it, yes. I’m your little whore.

She wanted my tongue to erase the stranger’s mark, for me to taste his semen so that, in some twisted way, the circle would close between the three of us.

***

I remained petrified on the sofa, my heart pounding against my ribs and my eyes unable to look away from what Marta was offering me. With the confidence her sixty years gave her, she hiked her skirt up to her waist, spread the lips of her pussy with two fingers, and showed me the still-pulsing entrance, reddened by the fucking, the other man’s come slowly leaking out.

—Do you see it, Andrés? —she moaned, while the thick foreign semen traced a glistening path down the insides of her thighs until it disappeared into the lace of her stockings—. He put me facing the mirror, holding on to the sink with both hands, and drove his cock all the way in. He pulled it all the way out and slammed it back into me. He fucked me so hard my waist bent. And now it’s your turn to finish the job.

I knelt before her, feeling small and powerful at the same time. The smell was unbearable and addictive at once: the salty, thick trace of that stranger mixed with the sharp, familiar scent of my wife’s pussy. Marta grabbed me hard by the hair and pressed my face against her crotch, rubbing it over my nose, my mouth, my chin.

—That’s it, baby. Stick out your tongue. Clean me properly. Start with my thighs, then move to my lips, and don’t leave a single drop inside. Get it all the way in, lick all his milk out of me. I want not a trace of him left on my skin, but I want his taste to stay in your mouth. Taste what he did to me. Tonight I was a stranger’s whore in a bar bathroom, and you’re going to be the cuckolded husband who eats his come.

There was no disgust. Only an animalistic, depraved surrender. I started with the insides of her thighs, following the glistening trail running down her skin with my tongue. It was warm and thick, with that bitter, metallic taste that wasn’t mine. I slowly moved up, licking the folds of her groin until I reached her open pussy. Marta let out a long moan when I ran my entire tongue from bottom to top, gathering up everything he had left her.

—Oh God, yes… put it inside me. Get it all out.

I pushed my tongue as deep as I could, rooting around inside her, feeling the thick semen stick to my palate. I sucked her swollen clitoris until she began to tremble. Marta threw her head back and screamed my name at the ceiling of the living room, possessed by the memory of the other man and by my mouth working between her legs. In that instant I knew that the suspicions of a lifetime had just died, making way for something much dirtier, more exciting and, somehow, eternal.

—That’s it, Andrés… eat it all, don’t leave a single drop —she whispered as she pressed my head against her sex and moved her hips, rubbing herself against my face—. Tomorrow I’ll be your perfect wife again. But right now I’m still the filthy whore a stranger came inside, and you’re going to eat it all.

***

She held me against her with a strength that didn’t seem like that of a woman her age. It was the strength of adrenaline, of the power she felt having me there on my knees, swallowing her betrayal in real time. I could taste that man’s bitterness mixed with Marta’s juices, a blend that burned my throat and yet I couldn’t stop swallowing. Saliva and come mingled in my mouth and dripped down my chin, and she gathered it up with her finger and pushed it back between my lips.

—Swallow, darling. Swallow everything he left inside your wife.

She forced me to look up without letting me pull away. Her face was flushed, her cheeks glowing, her eyes bright. The silver pendant around her neck rose and fell with her ragged breathing, resting between the two tits she had already pulled out of her bra. Her nipples were rock-hard and dark, still marked by the other man’s bites. She was the living image of satisfied desire.

—While he was doing it to me, while I felt his hands digging into my waist and his cock splitting me in half, I could only think about this moment. About how I would tell you. About the look on your face when you discovered that your wife, the one who makes your coffee every morning, had been fucked like a pig in a public bathroom barely twenty minutes ago. Do you like it, darling? Do you like knowing that right now you have in your mouth the semen of the man who made me scream with pleasure?

I couldn’t manage to say a word. My cock hurt beneath my trousers, straining against the fabric, leaking into my underwear. Marta noticed. She crouched down, opened my zipper, and pulled it out in one yank. She held it in her hand, wetting her fingers with my pre-cum, while I kept my face buried between her legs, eating the other man’s come.

—Look at you. You’re harder than ever. In twenty years, you’ve never gotten this hard for me. All it took was knowing another man had fucked me to turn you into an animal.

She jerked me off slowly, her hand still smeared with his and her fluids, while she told me the rest.

—He didn’t even know my name —she continued, savoring the contempt—. To him I was just a hot mature woman he picked up in a bar. He treated me like a nobody, Andrés. He whispered filthy things in my ear that would make you burn. He told me my pussy was tighter than those young girls he usually fucked. He asked me if my husband knew I was a whore. I told him no, that at home I was a saint. He laughed and thrust into me harder, shouting, “Then tonight you’re going home with my milk inside you, ma’am, so he can eat it.” And here I am, carrying out his order, offering you what he left me, because I know that deep down it’s what turns you on most. Isn’t it, my love?

She moved away just enough to let me see the mess between her legs again, still dripping. With one finger she gathered a thick drop hanging from the lip of her pussy and placed it on my lips, as if offering me a taste of something forbidden. I licked it from her finger without looking away from her eyes.

—Good boy. Now finish.

She straddled me, grasped the cock she had pulled out herself, and sank down on it in one movement. I cried out against her neck as I felt it enter that hot, slippery glove, still full of the other man’s semen. She was incredibly wide and soaked, and the foreign come served as lubricant as I fucked her on top of me, her tits bouncing against my face.

—Feel it going in. Feel how open he left me. I can’t even feel you anymore, darling, after his. But fuck me anyway, fuck me in his milk, mix yourself with him inside me.

I grabbed her ass with both hands and thrust upward, driving myself all the way into her. She rode me, moving in circles, rubbing her clitoris against my pubis, moaning everything he had done to her into my ear. I felt the other man’s semen running over my balls every time she came down, and instead of disgusting me, it brought me to the edge of coming within minutes.

—Yes, Andrés, yes, come inside me too. Let everything mix. I want to have both of you inside me.

I exploded with a roar I didn’t recognize as my own, emptying myself to the last drop into my wife’s pussy, on top of another man’s load. She came at the same time, squeezing me so tightly with her pussy that she milked out even what I didn’t have left, biting my shoulder so she wouldn’t scream and wake half the house.

She collapsed on top of me, panting, her hair stuck to her forehead with sweat. Then she slowly got up, her legs trembling, and knelt down again. Without saying a word, she cleaned my cock with her mouth, slowly licking our mixture from me, swallowing it all like a good wife.

—Clean me until I no longer smell like him. Until my skin shines again. But never forget this taste, Andrés. Because the next time we walk down the street arm in arm, when people see us as that respectable married couple who’ve been together forever, you’ll know exactly what the man who had me on all fours against the wall of a restroom tasted like. And you’ll know you’re going to eat it again.

I buried myself between her legs once more, losing all sense of time, devouring every trace of her infidelity and mine with obscene desperation. Marta stroked my hair with cruel tenderness, while the silence of the night enveloped our home and kept the secret that, beneath our calm exterior, a filth had just been born that would keep us awake for a very long time.