The Permission I Gave My Wife at the Beach

We’ve been together almost fifteen years and we have two children. We’re around forty, and although routine weighs on us, we both take care of ourselves and still want each other as much as on the first day. A long time ago we discovered that what we had worked better when we opened a door to the naughty. On a few occasions, when the kids stayed with their grandparents, we went to a couple of swingers’ clubs. We’ve seen each other with strangers, always together, always in the same room. That was the unwritten rule: whatever happened, happened in front of both of us.

That summer we rented an apartment on the coast, one of those places overlooking the sea and smelling of salt in the morning. We came with the children, so the plan was quiet: pool, sand, ice cream, and naps. Marina, my wife, had the habit of getting up before anyone else and going for a walk along the shore while I stayed behind making sure the kids didn’t wake up.

The first day, first thing in the morning, I got a message from her. It was one of those photos you can only open once and then they delete themselves. As soon as I saw the alert, I knew it would be something steamy. She used to send them to me from time to time, as a private game between the two of us.

I opened the image with my heart racing. It was a selfie of Marina completely naked on a deserted beach, her back to the camera, looking out at the water. Behind her, in the sea, the silhouette of someone coming out of the waves could be made out. I didn’t get a good look: the photo closed itself and disappeared.

A while later she came back to the apartment. I gave her a long kiss at the door and right away we started touching each other, taking advantage of the fact that the children were still asleep. We slipped into the bedroom without making a sound.

We lay down on the bed and I slid my hand between her legs. While I stroked her clit in slow circles, I asked her in her ear whether she’d enjoyed being naked out on the sand.

“Yes,” she told me, her breathing ragged. “But I didn’t touch myself. I just sat there looking at the sea.”

A white lie or not, it got me just the same.

“And the one coming out of the water?” I insisted. “Did you see him?”

“He was another nudist,” she murmured.

I kept caressing her, feeling how much wetter she got beneath my fingers.

“What was he like?”

“A young guy,” she answered, biting her lip. “He passed less than a meter from me, staring without even trying to hide it. I barely looked at him, but he had a good body. And a huge cock hanging down as he walked.”

I couldn’t take it anymore. I pulled my hand away from her sex, positioned myself between her legs, and entered her all at once. As we moved, pressed against her neck, I asked the question that was burning me.

“Wouldn’t you like to try one that big?”

She didn’t answer me. I kept pounding into her, slowly at first, harder after that. When we were both on the edge, I asked her again, and between gasps, just as we came at the same time, she told me yes.

***

The rest of the day went by like any other day on vacation: sandcastles, inflatables, the children’s screams in the pool, and a cold beer at sunset. But I couldn’t get the morning conversation out of my head.

That night, already in bed, I asked her whether she planned to go for another walk in the morning.

“I don’t know,” she said, pretending not to care.

“Go to the same place,” I suggested. “And if that guy’s there, go over and see what happens. You have my permission to do whatever you feel like.”

I got up, opened the nightstand drawer, and left a condom on top of the wood, in plain sight.

“You’re crazy,” she laughed, and turned her back to go to sleep.

But she didn’t remove the condom from the nightstand. She left it there all night.

***

We woke up early. Marina got ready to leave, wearing a thin dress over her bikini. When she passed by the nightstand, I held out the condom. She didn’t take it. So, without saying anything, I slipped it into the pocket of her dress myself. She didn’t take it out. She gave me a quick kiss and left.

She started taking longer than usual on her walks. I made myself a coffee, took care of the kids as they woke up, and my head was racing, imagining scenes. Every minute felt endless.

Then the second photo arrived. Another one of those you can only see once. Just feeling the phone vibrate and I was already hard. I opened the image: it was the wrapper of a condom, torn open, on the sand.

Nothing else. Nothing else was needed.

I stared at the black screen after it deleted itself, breathing heavily. I had seen her with other men, yes, but never behind my back. We’d fantasized about it a thousand times, and yet we’d always respected the rule: together or nothing. This time she was enjoying herself without me, on a beach, with a stranger, and all I had was an empty wrapper as proof.

The five minutes it took her to come back were the longest of the summer.

***

When she came in, she smiled at me in a different way. She came closer, gave me a soft kiss, and whispered a “thank you” against my lips.

“Tell me what happened,” I said, my voice rough.

“We used the condom,” she answered, pretending it was nothing.

“I want details. All of them.”

“Come to the bedroom.”

We sat on the edge of the bed, the children occupied with cartoons in the living room, and she began to tell me, her gaze far away, as if reliving it.

“I went to the same beach as yesterday and that same guy was there, again in the water. I stripped and left my clothes near his, almost on purpose. I think he saw me arrive from the sea, because he came out right away. While he was coming over, I was watching him. Especially down there. And I could feel him looking me over too. I was sitting facing the sea, with my legs fairly open, and he was walking toward me almost head-on.”

“Go on,” I asked, barely holding myself back.

“He grabbed the towel he had a meter away, on my right, and started drying himself standing up, right beside me, staring at me with no shame at all. I looked at him for a second and he said, ‘Do you like what you see?’ I turned my face back to the sea, acting all proper. Then I felt him come closer, and when I turned my head his cock was at the level of my mouth.”

I swallowed hard. She went on.

“I didn’t say anything. I just took it into my mouth and started sucking it. I could feel it growing in there, getting bigger and bigger. At first I could barely manage the tip. I got down on my knees in the sand to reach better, and while I was sucking him, he was talking to me.”

“What was he saying?”

“Dirty things. That I should be careful, that this pretty little mouth wasn’t used to something like that. Things that would have bothered me at another time, but there on my knees in the sand, they only made me hotter.”

“And nobody was passing by?”

“I don’t know,” she said, smiling faintly. “In the position I was in, I could only see him.”

She fell silent for a moment, as if savoring the memory. I squeezed her thigh to make her keep going.

“I kept sucking him a bit longer. Then he asked me if I wanted it inside. I nodded yes. He picked me up, put me on all fours facing the sea, and started lining himself up with nothing on. I moved aside, took the condom out of the pocket of the dress I’d left next to me, and gave it to him. He put it on without arguing and set me back the way he wanted.”

Her voice trembled a little as she told it.

“He shoved it in all at once. I was so wet it slid in without any trouble, despite how big he was. At first he went slowly, but when I started shaking he grabbed my hair with one hand and gave my ass a couple of hard spanks.”

She turned a little and showed me her right cheek, still bearing the reddish mark of a smack.

“When I came, I let myself fall onto the sand. I had no strength left. He turned me over, put me on my back, and took off the condom. Before I had time to react, he came on me. In my face, on my chest, in my mouth. I don’t know where so much came from. Then he got up, gathered his things, and left without saying a word, leaving me there.”

“And the people?” I asked in a thin voice.

“Just when I got up to go into the water and wash off, that’s when people started showing up on the beach,” she laughed. “I rinsed myself off, got dressed, and came home.”

When she finished telling me, neither of us said anything for a few seconds. I took off her dress slowly, with some sand still stuck to her skin, and laid her on the bed. There was no permission this time, no questions, no rules. Just the two of us, and the certainty that that summer we had just crossed a line we were no longer going to want to undo.