The Bet My Neighbor Wanted to Lose on the Beach

My life had turned into a minefield inside the development. The men avoided me as if I were dragging around some contagious disease, and the most absurd part was the reason: hardly any of them would have truly minded if I’d had something going with their wives. What terrified them was the rumor, the gossip at Saturday dinners. So I decided to take it easy for a while, see if their fear wore off. And if it didn’t, I’d find a way to make them change their minds.

The one who did talk to me was Don Fermín, a man in his nineties who always occupied the same bench with his hat and a cane he didn’t need but that gave him presence. Everyone treated him like a piece of furniture in the way. From day one, I liked him. He was a well of bad temper and hard truths. That afternoon he beckoned me over to sit down.

—Bruno, I’m telling you this because you’re the only one who looks me in the eye —he said, without beating around the bush—. I’ll get straight to it. There’s some guy named Raúl gathering people to bust your face in. He says you’ve been sleeping with his wife, Marisol, or at least you’ve been circling around her.

—Raúl? —The face meant nothing to me—. I don’t know any Marisol.

—Then keep away from him. Alone he’s useless, but if he gets three or four together... —He let the sentence hang in the hot afternoon air.

I’m not one to run. I went upstairs, changed, and headed straight back down to the padel courts. I didn’t have to wait long. This Raúl guy showed up and I went straight for him.

—Hello. I’ve been told you’re going around saying I fucked your wife. I’m warning you once: I have not had and will not have anything to do with any woman in this development, I’ve never harassed anyone in my life, and I don’t even know who your wife is. If you’re looking for people to ambush me, do it properly, because I’m not giving you a second chance.

Raúl went white, caught off guard, but he recovered.

—You’re telling me you don’t know my wife? —And he pointed toward the courts, where four women were playing a match. They all had something going for them—. The one in the pink polo. That one.

I looked at her. I had crossed paths with her a couple of times in the building’s lobby. Brunette, short hair, eyes a blue that looked lit from within. Strong legs, the kind you earn on a court, and an ass that the short skirt couldn’t begin to hide.

—Then that’s settled —I said—. With that woman, whether she’s yours or not, nothing at all.

He took it the wrong way. He thought I was saying his wife was worthless, and that offended him more than the supposed infidelity. When she came over to say hello and he introduced us, Marisol made a move to give me two kisses. I held out my hand, leaving her hanging. She went back to her friends, confused.

—I can’t believe you’re saying my wife isn’t worth a damn —Raúl insisted, furious.

—I didn’t say anything about your wife. I said nothing with her, because I don’t know her. Now that you’ve introduced her to me, I still have nothing to do with her.

And then I read him. His gestures, his words, but above all his gaze gave him away. Raúl was one of those men who get turned on by the idea of their wife cheating on them. He hid it, he was terrified anyone might know, but the fantasy was eating him from the inside: on one side the possessive rage, on the other the kink of knowing himself cuckolded. I left him with his shame and his thoughts.

Since I was already changed, I joined a group that was missing one player. On the other side of the net they put Raúl. We beat them badly, and when it was over I realized Marisol had been watching us the whole time. While we had a drink, Raúl blurted out the last thing I expected:

—Hey, Bruno. If you don’t have plans this Saturday, want to come over for dinner?

Marisol’s face was a poem of confusion, identical to mine. She reluctantly agreed and asked if there was anything I’d like to eat. I gave her a once-over that said a lot more than my words.

—Whatever you put in front of me, I’ll eat it gladly.

She blushed clear up to her ears. Raúl was an optician, and she ran the shop with him; they spent the whole day together. When the hell was she supposed to cheat on him? It was his own subconscious betraying him. Dinner would tell me whether I was right.

***

I arrived with a box of chocolates and an orchid. Raúl opened the door and ushered me into the living room, where he had prepared a mixed drink that, according to him, was his specialty.

—Bruno, I want to apologize for everything. Sometimes I don’t know what gets into me, I’m not myself —he said, contrite.

Then Marisol appeared and took my breath away. A white wrap top with a V-neck that made it clear the courts were hiding a lot more than the sporty polo had let on. A denim miniskirt, belly bare, wedge sandals that stretched out a pair of scandalous legs. Too much woman for the good optician.

During dinner I didn’t pick up a single signal. The opposite: I saw complicity, I saw they loved each other, that they admired one another. Trying anything felt like sowing seeds in the desert. When I offered to help clear the table, she stopped me cold.

—Leave it, Bruno, I’ll take care of it.

I was left alone with Raúl, who was looking at me with a stupid grin.

—See? I told you my wife is prettier now, didn’t I? —And without waiting for an answer—: I dress her, you know? I pick out her clothes, I go with her shopping. What do you think?

I didn’t measure my words.

—I think you know you’ve got a beautiful woman and that you like being looked at, being desired. But that’s not enough for you. You have fantasies that scare you, that fill you with jealousy and at the same time you’re dying for them to come true, even if you tremble thinking someone might find out.

I waited for his reaction, but Marisol came back and sat down with us. We started talking about the area, the pretty spots, and I casually mentioned a couple of nude beaches to see how she’d react.

—This one —she said, pointing to her husband— is determined for us to go to one. I refuse. At most I’ll take off the top, and only on hidden beaches, where I won’t run into anyone I know.

—It’s better than you think —I teased her—. I go to one that’s very discreet, hard to get to, and everyone keeps to themselves.

She didn’t flinch, but Raúl’s face lit up. She shut down, competitive.

—I may be weird, but I’m not going.

—What do you bet? —I shot back.

It was the worst thing I could have done. Either she’d fall into the trap or she’d look like a coward in front of both of us.

—You’re on. If you’re right, I’ll ask you for whatever you want. But if I win, get ready.

She started searching on her phone and her face gradually lost color until it went livid. She had lost. She tried to change the terms, but her husband was laughing his head off, which only made her angrier. We agreed on nine in the morning. When she walked me to the door, I whispered in Raúl’s ear:

—I’m warning you. If you don’t cancel the bet, you’ll fulfill your fantasy. If you don’t cancel it, I’ll fuck your wife. And it’ll be a secret only the three of us will know.

—I don’t know what you’re talking about... —he replied, panic creeping into his eyes.

I called the elevator and said good night. Behind me I didn’t hear even his breathing. That night I waited a good while for a call to cancel everything. It never came.

***

It took us almost an hour because of the way Raúl drove. I had to guide them down an unpaved road, while Marisol complained.

—Where the hell are we? We could get robbed here and nobody would know a thing.

He chose a horseshoe-shaped cove, almost no visibility, reachable only by a winding path between rocks.

—Warning: I get undressed at my own pace and I don’t want any rushing.

—Just so you can see I practice what I preach —Raúl said, taking off his clothes.

He had the body of a sedentary man, though not quite soft. I undressed without hurry. When Marisol took off her top, her nipples appeared large and pink, with the bikini mark still drawn on her skin. She had silver rings attached to them, some kind of jewelry without piercing.

—Crazy, right? —Raúl commented—. I don’t understand what for.

—It’s hot —I said, looking at her, who, behind the sunglasses, I knew was watching me—. I have a friend who loves having them worked with fingers, with the tongue.

Then Marisol stood up and stripped completely, facing away from us, bending over without bending her knees to put away the bikini. The sight was brutal. Raúl got hard instantly. I kept mine under control, though it swelled enough to make the difference between the two of us obvious.

—Leave it, Raúl, I’ll put the sunscreen on her —I said, taking the orange bottle.

She stayed standing, looking at her husband with her legs slightly apart. I massaged her neck, her shoulders, her back. I went down to her ass, hard as a rock, and slid two fingers between her cheeks, barely brushing her. She moved away in silence, but she didn’t leave.

I got into the water for a good while to cool off. When I came back, Raúl was still lying facedown, pretending to sleep, and Marisol was on her back. I poured a stream of sunscreen over her breasts and openly stroked them. She turned her head toward her husband, checked that his eyes were closed, and went back to her place. I twisted her nipples until the rings stayed in my hand. Her mouth strained not to make a sound. Then she turned over.

I started again at her back, positioning myself on the opposite side from Raúl so he’d have the best view. When I reached her ass, my fingers slid over her sex, her clit, her opening, without penetrating. She stretched out her arm and accidentally brushed my cock. She snatched it back as if she had touched a live wire, but she already knew it was fully hard.

I positioned myself over her legs. I stroked her back, leaning in so my cock slid between her cheeks. Marisol stretched out her left arm and searched for her husband’s hand. He took it, opened his eyes, and looked only at her, with a fire I hadn’t seen before. In that instant, she lifted her ass proudly, offering it to me without a single word.

No more was needed. I placed the tip at her soaked entrance and pushed slowly all the way in. A hoarse, restrained moan escaped her throat. Raúl jerked upright, mouth open, eyes fixed on the point where our bodies met. His own cock was throbbing out of control. He was watching his fantasy made flesh, and terror and arousal were fighting on his face.

I started moving, slowly at first. Each thrust made her tremble. Marisol squeezed her husband’s hand until her knuckles went white, while with the other she clawed at the sand.

—Fuck... Bruno... like that... —she whispered, finally breaking the silence.

She had taken off her sunglasses. Her blue eyes were lost, fixed on me, but now and then they drifted to her husband with a spark of defiance. She was enjoying it, yes, but she was also carrying out revenge for every insecurity and every toxic fantasy of his.

—Look at me, Raúl —I ordered without stopping—. Watch closely while I leave her breathless.

He obeyed. His eyes filled with tears, but not with sadness: they were tears of pure surrender. He came closer on his knees, mesmerized, touching himself slowly.

—I’m about to come... —she panted.

Her body arched, her legs trembled, and her cunt clenched around mine with incredible force. That was my trigger. With one last deep thrust I spilled inside her, while the sea breeze dried our sweat.

***

I pulled away slowly. A trickle slid down Marisol’s thigh as she breathed hard. When she caught her breath, she turned toward her husband. There was no shame in her gaze, only a new authority. She held out her hand to him.

—Come here, Raúl. Don’t stand there like a spectator.

He hesitated for a second, like a dog not sure whether it’s allowed on the sofa. Then, as if something had broken in his head, he crawled toward her. Marisol supported herself on her elbows and knees and offered him her ass, still wet and shining.

—Is this what you’ve always dreamed of? —she asked over her shoulder—. Fucking me after someone else has come inside me? Put it in. And tell me what you feel.

Raúl sank into her without resistance, sliding into the mixture of fluids.

—Fuck... it’s burning... —he stammered.

—It’s his come, darling. All yours. Now show me how much you like being my willing cuckold.

—I like it... I love it... —he confessed, his voice broken by pleasure and humiliation.

He fucked her with a fury he’d held back for years, every blow a release. She goaded him with dirty words while I, sitting in the sand, watched with a smile. They had broken the final taboo, and in that absolute depravity their bond seemed stronger than ever. Raúl emptied himself inside her with a roar and collapsed onto her back, exhausted.

Marisol, far from staying still, turned to me.

—And you, big guy, still horny? —She came up on all fours and took my cock in one expert hand—. Come on, wake this beast up. It still has work to do.

As she stroked me, she spoke to her husband.

—See, Raúl? This is a real cock. Yours is predictable. This one is an adventure.

She mounted me with her back to him, so he’d have the best view, and lowered herself centimeter by centimeter until I was all the way inside her. She began to move in a slow dance.

—Look how he opens me, Raúl. Look how I devour him. Come closer and touch my clit while he fucks me.

With a trembling hand, Raúl brought his fingers to his wife’s sex. When he touched her, she let out a guttural moan.

—Do you feel his cock moving under your fingers?

—Yes... I can feel it throbbing... —he murmured.

I fucked her with the ferocity she demanded, until the two of us reached the edge in a shared, violent orgasm that left us spent. All three of us collapsed onto the damp sand, the air heavy with the smell of salt and sex.

Marisol was the first to come back to life. She stretched like a satisfied cat and walked toward the sea, letting the waves clean her skin. When she returned, she leaned down and gave me a slow, deep kiss.

—You’ve got an incredible cock, Bruno —she said. Then she turned to Raúl and stroked his cheek—. And you, my love, have been the best accomplice a woman could wish for. But don’t think everything is allowed. There’s one last treasure nobody has conquered yet.

The sentence hung in the air. Raúl looked at her with frustration and desire: it was territory he himself longed for and had always been denied. Marisol leaned toward my ear and lowered her voice, knowing he was dying to hear.

—You, maybe, one day I’ll let you conquer it. But not today. Today you’re leaving with your lips full of honey. The wait will make you stronger.

She stood up and began to get dressed with a calm that was almost insulting.

—That’s it for today, boys. Raúl, pack everything up. Bruno, we’ll take you home. And no, there’s no second round. The good things are made to be wanted.

***

The development, that microcosm of appearances, had become my personal stage. Every crossing in the lobby was one more scene in a play I was writing without realizing it. Something similar was happening with Pilar, the divorced woman on the fourth floor, and with Noelia, her daughter: the same insolence in their gaze, twenty years apart. A neutral “hi, Bruno, how are you?” on their lips, but their eyes told another story. Curiosity, defiance, an animal desire to be hunted again without daring to take the first step.

And then there was Raúl. Poor, marvelous Raúl. His gaze had become a constant plea, no longer just the desire to see his wife possessed, but a pathological need. His eyes screamed what his mouth would never dare say: “Do it again. Make me the happiest cuckold in the world.”

We were a powder keg of hidden desires, connected by looks and by a secret. And I was the match. I knew, with the certainty of someone who knows fire, that very soon words would no longer be necessary. Only looks. And action. It was just a matter of giving time time, because in the end everything would fall into place.