The Ad My Husband Never Got to See

I started drafting the ad in a notebook, sitting at the kitchen table while my husband snored on the sofa with the evening news on. I had been writing it in my head for twelve years. All it took was one March afternoon, a glass of red wine, and the certainty that I had turned fifty-seven without anyone ever touching me the way I needed.

My name is Carmen, I live in an apartment in Alicante overlooking the harbor, and at my age desire has not gone out. I’m five-foot-three, I wear my chestnut hair at shoulder length, I have green eyes my mother used to call “wet cat eyes,” and a body that has rounded with the years without losing its firmness. My breasts aren’t large; they’ve sagged a little over time, but they’re still soft, sensitive, and my nipples harden just from thinking about a mouth closing over them.

My husband hasn’t touched me in years. Not because of a fight or some specific falling-out. He simply stopped looking at me. He goes to bed before I do, gets up before I do, and on weekends he goes off to the fishing club with his friends. On the nights when I have to sleep alone, I imagine large hands traveling up my back, a hot mouth finding my neck, a hard cock pressing against my hip. And I end up sliding my fingers inside myself until I come, biting the pillow so no one hears me.

That’s why I wrote the ad. I titled it “Mature woman looking for a solution” and posted it on a dating site for older adults. It said more or less this:

“When a woman is horny and her partner no longer responds, she has to look outside. I need an active, generous man, no strings attached. Fuck me well, leave me breathless, understand that I’m here for pleasure and nothing else.”

It took me twelve minutes to write. Half an hour later I already had seven replies. Rubén’s was the fifth.

***

We met on a Thursday afternoon at the Hotel Maritim, a modest building two blocks from the seafront promenade. I booked the room in my name, paid cash, and went upstairs alone. I had told him to arrive twenty minutes later.

I took off my coat, loosened my hair in front of the mirror, and poured myself a glass of water to keep my hands busy. I wasn’t nervous: I was expectant, which is a different feeling. For years I had imagined that knock on the door.

When it came, I opened it without looking through the peephole.

Rubén was huge. Nearly six-foot-three, broad-shouldered, with a soft beer belly that gave him an honest, unpretentious air. Mid-forties, short salt-and-pepper beard, hands that looked capable of lifting a sack of cement without breaking a sweat. He smelled of a pharmacy cologne, fresh and unforced.

—Carmen —he said, as if confirming it was me.

—Rubén —I replied, stepping aside.

He shut the door behind him with his elbow because his hands were already at my waist. There was no preamble: he pressed me against the hallway wall and kissed me with a hunger that gave me back thirty years all at once. His mouth tasted of coffee and mint, and his beard scraped my chin in a way that wasn’t unpleasant. His hands slid down my blouse, found the first button, and undid it unhurriedly.

—Do we have the whole afternoon? —he asked against my ear.

—Until nine —I said.

—Enough.

***

He undressed me slowly in the room. Not with a kid’s clumsiness, but with the rhythm of someone who knows time is on his side. He unbuttoned my blouse, let my skirt fall to the floor, lowered my stockings to my ankles, and made me lift one foot and then the other to get them off. When he got to my bra, he unfastened it and stood still, looking.

—Jesus, Carmen —he murmured—. You’re even better than in the photo.

My breasts aren’t those of a twenty-year-old girl. They’re the breasts of a woman who has lived. Just the right amount of sag, soft, with pink nipples that are very sensitive. He took them in his hands as if they weighed more than they did, stroked them with his thumbs, and bent down to take one in his mouth. He bit the nipple carefully, sucked it, let it go, and took care of the other one. I closed my eyes and let my head fall back.

—Lie down —he said.

I lay on the bed and he took off his clothes shamelessly. Shirt, trousers, briefs, all of it to the floor. His cock was semi-hard, thick, with a slight upward curve that caught my attention instantly. The head was broad, dark, glossy. Below, his balls hung heavy, with that wrinkled, hot skin that makes you want to take them in your hand.

I motioned for him to come closer and took him into my mouth before he could say anything. I started at the tip, running my tongue along the ridge of the head, tasting the first salty bead. Then I went down the shaft, licking the veins, feeling him harden against my lips. I took his balls in one hand, caressed them, bent down, and sucked them one by one while he held my nape and breathed as if he were short of air.

—Slowly —he murmured—, I want to last.

I let his cock go with a wet sound and fell back. He knelt between my legs and spread them with those hands that seemed to have no limit. My cunt was already soaked, swollen, open. He ran two fingers over it without entering, measuring, and lowered his face.

***

What came after stayed on my skin for days. Rubén ate my pussy with a devotion my husband had never given me, not even on our first night as married people. A flat tongue over the clit, slow circles, then fast, then slow again. Two fingers inside, hooked toward my navel, finding that spot I always reached on my own but never with that intensity. When I was about to come, he stopped. He brought his mouth back up to my breasts, bit a nipple, went back down. Three times he took me to the edge and three times he pulled me back from the cliff.

The fourth time, he let me fall.

I screamed into my own forearm, biting myself so I wouldn’t alarm the whole hotel. My inner walls clenched around his fingers in long, deep waves, the kind that start from somewhere between the back and the thighs. He held still inside, feeling me.

—There you go —he said when I stopped—. You’re ready for me now.

He entered me without asking permission, because there was no need. The curve of his cock rubbed something inside me that made me arch my back and let out a muffled moan. He started slowly, watching me, propped on his elbows, his beard brushing my cheek with every thrust. When he saw I could keep up, he sped up. The bed creaked. My breasts bounced with each stroke and he dipped his mouth down to bite my nipples whenever he could.

—Turn over —he gasped.

I got on all fours. He came in from behind with one thrust that knocked the air out of me. His hands gripped my waist, his balls slapped against me with a wet, rhythmic sound, and I clenched the sheets in my fists. He spread my ass cheeks with his thumbs and kept driving in, now deeper, more controlled.

—Wait —I said.

He stopped. I pushed myself up a little and reached into the bag beside the bed. I took out a slender, elongated dildo, wrapped in a condom and well lubricated. I had prepared it at home that same morning, hands trembling, knowing I was going to ask for it and knowing too that I had never dared ask anyone for it before.

—Will you put it in? —I asked without turning around—. In my ass. Slowly.

***

He took the toy and drew a deep breath.

—Are you sure?

—I’ve wanted it for years —I said.

He said nothing else. He spread my cheeks with one hand, set the tip against my asshole, and began to press very slowly. I forced myself to relax, to breathe, to trust. My body gave way in a way I had never felt before. Once it was inside, Rubén slid his cock back into me, this time from the front, with the same slowness.

Being filled from both ends at once made me let out a long, rough moan, completely new. He stayed still, letting me get used to it. Then he started moving: first the toy, then the cock, then both in unison, in a rocking rhythm that undid me. My breasts hung downward, my nipples brushed the sheet, and I didn’t know whether I was crying, laughing, or both.

—My husband hasn’t touched me in twelve years —I blurted out suddenly, not knowing why.

—Then today I’m touching you —Rubén replied—. And next week too, if you want.

I came for the second time right there, with the toy inside and his cock inside, biting the pillow so they wouldn’t hear me in the next room. He held out a little longer. He carefully pulled the toy out, laid it on a towel, and emptied into me with a long growl. I felt the hot spurts, the contractions of his balls against my skin, and I let myself collapse forward until I was lying face down with him on top of me.

***

We stayed like that for a while, panting, while the afternoon light seeped in between the blinds. Then he turned me over, kissed me on the mouth with a tenderness that didn’t fit the hour before, and lowered his head between my legs again. He sucked my swollen red clit, licking his and mine together, until he made me come a third time, softly, slowly, almost sadly.

I returned the favor. I knelt between his legs and sucked his cock again, this time without hurry, savoring both tastes. I brought him back up with my tongue little by little until he was hard again, and we came together once more, him on his back and me on top, setting the pace with my hips. The fourth climax came, this time together, and we stayed still for a long while.

***

I left the hotel at a quarter to nine, legs trembling and my cunt still throbbing. I had showered, dressed, put on lipstick. On the outside I was the same as always. Inside, I was another woman.

In the elevator, on the way down, I went over every detail in my head, knowing I would need them that night and on many nights after. I got home and my husband was still on the sofa. He asked if I had done the shopping. I said yes, kissed the crown of his head, and went into the kitchen to make dinner.

That night, when he fell asleep, I opened my phone and wrote Rubén just one line.

“Next Thursday, same hotel, same room.”

It took him two minutes to reply.

“I’ll be there”.

I closed my phone with a smile and fell asleep straight away, for the first time in a long while, without needing my fingers.