The First Time I Let Her Go with Another Man

We had been married for two years when Diana finally said yes.

It didn’t happen all at once. It was a long process, months of half-finished conversations and proposals she always rejected with the same sentence: “If you’re asking me, it’s because I’m not enough for you anymore.” I explained that wasn’t it. She listened to me, crossed her arms, and changed the subject. Until one day, she didn’t.

I’m thirty years old. Diana is twenty-two. We married young, knowing we were what we wanted, but I’d carried that fantasy inside me long before I met her: watching the woman I loved with another man’s cock buried all the way inside her. I couldn’t explain it. I didn’t want to. I just wanted to see if it ever became real.

Diana is slim, fair-skinned, with long brown hair and honey-colored eyes that narrow when she smiles. She has long legs, a firm, round ass that pushes against every skirt she wears, and small but pert tits, with very pink nipples that stiffen at the slightest touch. She always denied it. I always pointed it out.

The man we chose was named Rodrigo. We found him through a private group online. It took us three weeks to talk to him and another two to meet him in person. The day before, Diana asked me four times if I was sure. I told her yes four times. Neither of us slept well that night.

***

It was Saturday at noon. Diana had dressed in a tight black skirt that came halfway up her thighs, a fitted blouse, and stilettos that had cost more than any pair of shoes I could remember. When she came out of the bathroom and saw me looking at her, she let out a nervous laugh.

“Is it that obvious I’m going to see another man?” she asked.

“It’s obvious you’re ready to be fucked against the first wall you find,” I replied.

We took the car in silence. The hotel was twenty minutes away, in a discreet area on the outskirts of town. Diana looked out the window with one hand on her knee, her fingers slightly tense. Every now and then she turned toward me as if she wanted to say something, then turned back toward the glass.

“I can call him and cancel,” I said when we stopped at a traffic light.

She took a few seconds.

“No,” she replied without looking at me. “My pussy’s been wet since we left the house. I’m not going to waste it.”

And there it was. The first real confirmation that this was going to happen.

Rodrigo was waiting for us in the room. We’d seen him in photos, but in person he was different: taller than he looked, with broad shoulders and a calmness in the way he moved that contrasted with our nerves. When he opened the door, he greeted us without hurrying, without any fanfare. It was obvious this wasn’t his first time.

The room had a floor lamp giving off a warm, low light. The bed was large, with a white bedspread. There was a chair beside the window. Rodrigo indicated the chair with his eyes, and I understood, without anyone saying a word, that it was for me.

Diana was still standing by the door, her purse still in her hand.

“Are you okay?” he asked her.

“Nervous,” she admitted.

“That’s normal.” Rodrigo crossed the room slowly. “There’s nothing you haven’t already agreed on with your husband. If you want to stop at any point, you stop. And if you want me to fuck you until you can’t walk, that’s fine too.”

Diana let out a muffled giggle and nodded. I sat in the chair and rested my elbows on my knees.

“Are you comfortable there?” Rodrigo asked me, looking at me.

“Yes,” I said. My voice came out steadier than I expected.

***

Rodrigo didn’t rush. That was the first thing I understood: he knew exactly what he was doing, and he was in no hurry whatsoever. He approached Diana, gently took her purse from her hand, and set it on the dresser. Then he placed a hand on her cheek.

Diana closed her eyes.

I held my breath.

The first kiss was slow, almost tentative. But Diana responded, and the second was no longer tentative. It was a kiss with tongues, wet and noisy, with Diana seeking Rodrigo’s mouth as if she’d been waiting months for him. I couldn’t not look. I couldn’t think about anything but that: my wife, lips parted over another man’s, one hand clutching the lapel of his shirt and the other shamelessly dropping to the bulge in his trousers.

Rodrigo unbuttoned her blouse without taking his mouth from hers. Underneath, Diana wore a black lace bra, which he caressed slowly, running his thumbs along the edge, then over her nipples, already poking stiffly through the fabric. When he unclasped it at the back and her tits were left bare, he crouched down and took one nipple into his open mouth, licking it all over before tugging on it with his teeth. Diana let out a sigh I couldn’t identify; it wasn’t the sound she made with me. It was a guttural, hoarse moan, the sound of a woman already surrendered.

“Take my heels off afterward,” she told him softly, her voice trembling. “Not before. I want to fuck you with them on.”

“As you wish,” he replied, biting her neck.

I wondered when she had asked him that. When they’d had that conversation by message. How many conversations they’d had that I knew nothing about. How many times she’d thought about this cock she hadn’t even seen yet.

Rodrigo laid her down on the bed carefully, as if he had all the time in the world. Her skirt stayed bunched at her waist. The stockings Diana wore were part of the lingerie set: black, with lace at the thighs. Rodrigo caressed them from top to bottom without taking them off, looking her in the face as he did. The lace panties my wife wore already had a dark stain in the middle, a damp patch revealing how soaked she was.

Diana sought me out with her eyes.

“I’m watching you,” I said.

“Watch closely,” she replied, and smiled. “Watch how he opens me.”

That was when I understood that she was enjoying having me watch her. That part of this, perhaps the most important part for her, was precisely that: knowing she was being watched by me while another man spread her legs. I filed that away for later, for when I could think clearly.

Rodrigo slid her panties aside with two fingers, revealing my wife’s pussy, shaved and glistening, her lips swollen and parting on their own from how wet she was. He knelt between her legs and ran his whole tongue from bottom to top, pressing the tip against her clitoris when he reached it. Diana arched her back sharply.

“Fuck,” she panted. “Fuck, fuck…”

He drove two fingers inside her without stopping his sucking on her clitoris. He pulled them out, pushed them back in, curling them upward to find that spot that was so hard for me to reach on her even on good days. Diana gripped the bedspread with her fingers, then put one hand in his hair and pushed his face against her pussy.

“Eat me,” she begged, and it didn’t even sound like her voice. “Eat me all, don’t stop.”

Rodrigo didn’t answer. He kept going. He slurped, sucked, moved his tongue in circles, pulled it out and spat on her before burying his face again. Wet noises filled the room. I was so hard inside my trousers that it was starting to hurt.

Diana came in less than ten minutes. I know because I glanced at the clock without meaning to and caught myself counting. When she finished, her thighs were clamped around his head, one hand gripping his hair tightly and the other squeezing one of her tits. She came trembling, spasms shaking her belly, releasing a long, high-pitched moan I hadn’t heard before either. Rodrigo didn’t let her go until she pushed him away weakly, overwhelmed.

***

Rodrigo sat up, his face shining from his lips to his chin, and asked her to sit on the edge of the bed. Diana obeyed without saying anything, still breathing hard, her tits rising and falling. He calmly unbuckled his belt. Then the button. Then the fly.

When Diana saw him, her eyes opened a little wider. Rodrigo’s cock was thick, longer than mine, with prominent veins and a swollen, glistening head. A soft “oh” escaped my wife, rising from her chest without thought.

He brushed her hair away from her face with one hand.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” he said, while gripping his cock with the other and running it over her lips.

“I know,” she replied, and opened her mouth.

I leaned back against the chair and stopped trying to control what I was feeling. I unzipped my trousers without asking permission and grabbed my cock. There was no hiding it anymore.

Diana gave him a long blowjob, unhurried, using both hands: one at the base and the other wrapped around his balls. She took him all the way back, until tears sprang to her eyes and her throat made a muffled sound, then slowly pulled him out, licking underneath and sucking the tip with her lips tight around it. She deliberately drooled all over him, getting her chin dirty and letting the strand fall down onto her tits. I’d never seen her do that. She had never sucked my cock like that, so filthy, so slutty, so surrendered.

She looked into his eyes for part of the time and at me for the rest. That alternation of glances unsettled me more than anything else. When she looked at me, she did it with her mouth full, his cock buried deep inside, and she smiled with her eyes. It was as if she was doing both things at once: surrendering to him while keeping me close. I didn’t know whether it was intentional. It probably was.

Rodrigo placed one hand on the back of her neck without pressing, simply resting it there and letting her set the pace. Then he began gently pushing her head downward, fucking her mouth without violence, until Diana pulled him out coughing, a strand of saliva hanging from her lip and a dazed smile on her face. When he decided she’d had enough, he took her by the shoulders and leaned her back onto the bed.

“Condom?” he asked, looking toward me.

“Yes,” I replied, my throat dry.

Rodrigo nodded without comment and put it on. Then he positioned himself over Diana, who had wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He ran his cock over her pussy two or three times, wetting himself with her juices before lining up the tip. Penetration was slow at first, her mouth opening without a sound, as if the air had become trapped in her chest. Rodrigo pushed slowly, inch by inch, all the way in. Diana let out a long moan when she felt him touch her inside.

“I’m all the way in,” he whispered in her ear. “Every inch.”

“Oh my God,” she replied. “Fuck me. Fuck me now.”

Then they began to move.

Rodrigo thrust slowly at first, his cock coming almost all the way out before plunging back in to the hilt. The smack of wet skin against skin filled the room. Diana dug her nails into his back, bit his shoulder, and lifted her hips to meet him with every thrust. He changed the pace without warning and began fucking her harder, marking every stroke, making Diana’s tits bounce and the headboard start knocking against the wall. She screamed, truly screamed; she wasn’t faking anything.

I’m not going to describe every position or every change of pace. I’ll just say that it lasted longer than I expected, and during that time I didn’t get up from the chair once, though I kept masturbating slowly so I wouldn’t come too soon. Something held me there, watching. Jealousy. Excitement. Pride, even, though that’s the hardest thing to admit. Pride that this man wanted to fuck my wife as much as I knew she was worth.

Diana came a second time in missionary, her legs wrapped around his waist, her head thrown back and her heels crossed over his ass. Her pussy visibly clenched around Rodrigo’s cock, almost forcing it out with the contractions. He kept going without stopping, thrusting harder while she was still coming.

“Wait,” she said at one point, her voice wrecked. “I want to be on top. I want to ride you.”

Rodrigo rolled onto his back, and Diana sat on him with a confidence that seemed completely new to me. She gripped his cock with one hand, positioned it at the entrance to her pussy, and slowly lowered herself, mouth open, until she buried it down to the balls. Then she began rising and falling, braced against his chest and setting her own rhythm. Her tits bounced with every descent. Her ass slapped against Rodrigo’s thighs with a flat, dirty sound.

At one point, without warning, she pulled him out of her pussy, turned toward him, took him into her mouth all the way to the back, and cleaned all her own juices from him with her tongue. She sucked her own pussy off another man’s cock, looking at me as she did it. Then she put him back inside her and continued riding him.

She did that last part with a condom on. She had never done that with me.

Rodrigo finished on his back, with Diana sitting on top of him, riding him more and more slowly and deeply. When he was about to come, he warned her in a whisper. She moved away, knelt beside him, pulled the condom off in one motion, and brought her face close just as he released the first spurt. It landed on her cheek, lips, chin, and tits. Diana didn’t close her eyes or turn her face away: she grabbed his cock and milked him herself to the last drop, mouth open, drawing everything out of him. Then she licked her lips without taking her eyes off me.

“Are you okay?” Diana asked, seeking me out over his shoulder, her face covered in semen.

“Yes,” I said. And it was the truth and a lie at the same time.

***

There was a second round.

It hadn’t been part of the original plan. No one mentioned it openly, but when Diana and Rodrigo lay on the bed talking quietly, his hands lost between her legs again, I knew it was going to happen. I got up from the chair, went to the bathroom, splashed cold water on my face, and stared at myself in the mirror for a full minute.

When I returned, they were kissing again, and Diana already had Rodrigo’s hard cock in her hand, slowly stroking it.

This time there was no condom. It wasn’t something anyone decided rationally; it was a request from both of them, almost simultaneous, and I said yes because at that moment I couldn’t say anything else. Diana asked for it out loud, without a filter: “I want to feel it bare. I want to feel it inside me with nothing between us.” My arousal had completely overwhelmed me. So had my jealousy, but the jealousy fed the arousal, and the arousal fed the jealousy, and I was so lost in that circuit that I could no longer tell one from the other.

Rodrigo put her on all fours at the edge of the bed, facing me. He slapped her ass twice, once on each cheek, leaving the red imprint of his hand. Then he took hold of his cock, rubbed it over Diana’s wet pussy a couple of times, and drove it all the way in with one thrust. She let out a howl that broke off halfway, muffled in the pillow.

Diana looked at me while he pounded her from behind, his hands firm on her hips, pulling her back toward him with every stroke. The sounds she made were different in that position: rawer, more immediate, more animal. The skin of her ass trembled with every impact. Rodrigo’s cock came out glistening with moisture and sank back in, whole.

“Don’t look away,” she told me, her voice broken, drool already running from the corner of her mouth. “Watch him put it in me. Watch him fuck me bare.”

“I’m not looking away,” I replied.

And I didn’t. I watched her come again with Rodrigo’s cock inside her, trembling all over, her ass raised and pussy dripping down the insides of her thighs. I watched her ask him to keep hitting her harder. I watched her tell him, “Come inside me,” in a low but clear voice, and I watched myself nod when he sought me out with his eyes over my wife’s back.

Rodrigo came inside her. He thrust two or three more times, all the way to the hilt, and stayed there, fingers digging into Diana’s hips as he emptied himself. She let out a long, deep sound that slowly faded as she felt the heat inside her. He stayed still for a few seconds, his forehead resting against her back as he breathed. When he finally pulled out, his cock came out accompanied by a thick white strand that ran down Diana’s inner thigh to her stocking. Then he sat up and got dressed with the same calmness he had shown in everything else.

***

The drive home was silent, but it was a different silence from the one on the way there. Diana had her head resting against the window, her eyes closed. I drove with one hand on the wheel and the other resting on the gearshift.

Halfway home, she reached over and placed her fingers on mine.

“Are you okay?” she asked without opening her eyes.

“I think so,” I said.

“Do you want to talk?”

“Later.”

It took us more than a week to really talk. And when we did, what neither of us expected to admit came spilling out on its own, haltingly: that it had been intense, that we’d been frightened, that in the end we’d enjoyed it more than we dared acknowledge, and that neither of us yet knew what to do with that.

What I do know is that I was left with one image burned into my mind: Diana looking at me from the bed, another man’s cock inside her, making sure I was still there. As if she were telling me that, despite everything, we were still us.

I still don’t know whether that was a comfort or whether it made everything more complicated. Probably both.