The Resort Where My Wife Moved on to the Second Phase

I’d been carrying it in my pocket for two days. I’d pulled it out three times in the car, twice more in the work café, and once while I waited for Sofía to come down from her sister’s apartment. Each time I opened it carefully, read the same phrases printed on satin paper, and folded it back up. The idea still felt alien to me, but with every passing hour it felt a little more mine.

—How long have you been going? —I asked Ramiro, while I ran my fingers over the tri-fold through the fabric of my trousers.

—This is the fifth time. The second this year.

—Sofía suggested it to me the day before yesterday. She brought the brochure home, told me there was an info meeting today, and here we are. I still can’t quite wrap my head around it, but the more excited I see her, the less it bothers me.

We were in a mezzanine in the city center, a small lecture hall with folding chairs and a screen that was still showing the last frame of the video. Three large letters filled the center: the resort’s name. There had been about thirty of us, almost all couples. Four people led the presentation: two dark-skinned men, dressed in impeccable suits; a Spaniard who looked like the owner of the business; and a woman in a dress so tight that every movement became a statement. Her heels were absurdly high, and she wore them with the same ease other women wear sneakers. I guessed she was the organizer’s partner.

Ramiro was beside me with another man who introduced himself as Mauricio. The three of us were looking at the same spot: the two foreigners being fawned over by a group of women stroking their arms, shoulders, and necks.

—See the one in the back, the one in the white T-shirt? —Ramiro said—. The one with Hotwife in big letters. That’s Vanessa, my wife.

It was impossible not to have noticed her already. The shirt was on the verge of giving out, and she wore it with a kind of pride that admitted no argument.

—She had the boobs done after the third trip, when she moved on to the second phase.

—What’s the second phase? —I asked—. They didn’t say anything about that in the presentation.

Ramiro never got to answer me. Vanessa motioned to him from the far end of the room and he walked off quickly. I said goodbye to Mauricio with a nod and started looking for Sofía. I couldn’t see her. I called her mobile; it rang three times and nothing. There were only two possible places, so I crossed into the adjoining room.

I pushed the door open and discovered where we were going to spend the next vacation.

Sofía was kneeling on the carpet, naked, with her heels still on. Beside her, in the same position, was another woman I hadn’t seen before. In front of the two of them, seated in an armchair with his legs spread, was the Spanish organizer. Sofía and the other woman took turns on the cock with a focus I hadn’t seen in my wife for years. They passed it back and forth without hurry, kissed with it between their lips, left a trail of saliva on the other woman’s chin, and kept going. If I had any doubt left, it vanished the second I felt the blood rush straight down out of my head.

A hand landed on my shoulder.

—Let me introduce you to Camila. My wife.

I turned my head. It was Mauricio.

—The one next to yours. That’s yours, right?

—Sofía —I said, and a smile slipped out of me that I couldn’t wipe away—. Yes, she’s mine.

The organizer sat up, gripped his member in his hand, and started shaking it a few inches from the two mouths. Sofía and Camila stayed kneeling, looking up at him, tongues out, like two believers waiting for an offering. When he came, not a single drop was wasted: it landed on their foreheads, their cheeks, their lips. The two of them took it without blinking.

—Now I want to see you lick each other’s faces —he said.

Neither of them hesitated. They leaned forward and started slowly, forehead, cheeks, corners of the mouth. The image seared itself into me before I could even process it.

—Up, princesses.

They stood, threw their arms around him, kissed him with a shamelessness that seemed rehearsed, and he led them by the waist over to us.

—Gentlemen, I leave your wives in your care. See you in two days.

Sofía kissed me on the mouth as if nothing had happened. She got dressed in sixty seconds.

—Let’s go home, my love. I need a cock inside me now. And make the most of tonight, because the plane leaves early tomorrow and, from what I’ve seen, you’re going to get very little of this body for fifteen days.

We went out to the entrance holding hands. I was running at a thousand revs. Sofía stopped at the door, hugged me, and whispered in my ear that she loved me.

—I love you so much. So much, you know that?

I knew it. And I was going to need to know it over the next few days.

Just as we were pushing open the main gate, we heard Camila’s voice behind us. Mauricio and she came running. Camila hooked herself onto Sofía’s arm like they’d been friends all their lives.

—I had such a great time with you, Sofi.

—Me too. Short but intense. We’ll definitely do it again at the resort.

—Actually —Camila lowered her voice a little—, tonight I’ve got plans with my lover and a friend of his, to say goodbye before the trip. Want to come?

Sofía looked at me. It wasn’t a look asking permission. It was a warning look. She kissed me, stepped two paces away from me, and looped her arm through Camila’s with the joy of a little girl on a school trip.

—Sorry, cuckold, but I think this has already started. Don’t wait up for me.

She blew me a kiss from the sidewalk and the two of them disappeared in a taxi.

Mauricio looked at me, shrugged, and laughed.

—Welcome to the club, brother.

***

I jerked off three times before I could fall asleep. I woke up smiling, still hard, still thinking about what my wife might have done during the night. By eleven in the morning I was already getting restless. Sofía had never gone off alone with anyone who wasn’t me, and every minute without news was another step from excitement to nerves. When the phone finally rang, I jumped.

—Where are you? It’s very late.

—Good morning, my love. I’m in the car, outside the building. Open up, I left my keys and my clothes at Camila’s friend’s place.

—Do you want me to bring you some clothes down?

—No, don’t worry. Just open up.

I pressed the intercom button and ran to the window. Sofía was getting out of a brand-new Mercedes, wrapped around a guy of about thirty-five, wearing a man’s shirt that didn’t quite cover her ass and the same heels from the day before. They kissed in the street like two lovers saying goodbye at an airport. When she came into the house, her mouth was still red.

—I’m so happy, darling! You should have listened to me sooner. I’m going to take a shower and I’ll be ready in an hour.

I stepped into the shower behind her with a very clear idea, but Sofía stopped me with her open palm.

—Sorry, cuckold, we don’t have time. If you want, you can jerk off while I tell you about it.

An hour and a handjob later, she came into the living room in a fitted jumpsuit that ended exactly where the curve of her buttocks began. She’d swapped the heels for some wedge sandals about nine centimeters high, she said, for the flight. She was breathtaking. Her ass gleamed under the tiny shorts and her nipples pulled at the fabric as if they were in a hurry to get out. We only had one suitcase, mine. Sofía’s clothes would be provided by the resort.

***

The place was exactly what the brochure had promised. Cabins scattered among the greenery, flowers that changed color depending on the angle of the sun, a private cove with almost white sand, and a huge pool in the center of the complex beside a communal building.

Our cabin had sea views, two bathrooms, and two beds: a single bed for the cuckold and a king-size for the hotwife and her lovers. Sofía went into the dressing room and opened her eyes like a little girl in a toy store. One whole wall of shoes, all heels. Another wall with tiny bikinis, trikinis, micro-thongs. No street clothes at all. She chose a white bikini that barely covered her nipples with two straps joined by cords, and a three-centimeter triangle for her pubis. From behind she looked completely naked. From the front too. She put on platform sandals with vertiginous heels.

I walked two steps behind her to the pool, just to watch how she moved. When we got to the entrance, a sign forced us apart: on the right, CUCKOLD ZONE; on the left, QUEENS. The pool acted as a virtual border between the two sides. I could see my wife flirting on the other side of the water, but I couldn’t cross over.

I found Mauricio, Ramiro, and another new guy who introduced himself as Bruno. I poured myself a large drink at the bar and sat down with them. Sofía approached the bar on the other side, where two men devoured her with their eyes. When she got there, she kissed both of them, one after the other, with a naturalness I had never seen from her, not even with me during the first month. They grabbed her around the waist and the three of them melted into the rest of the crowd.

Ramiro asked Bruno about his wife.

—She went straight to the Rabbit Hole. Tonight I’m going to pay her a visit.

—Vanessa goes tomorrow —said Ramiro—. She’ll be there three days.

—Does she still owe one?

—One. The other two she does for pleasure.

I was about to ask what the Rabbit Hole was when a racket of voices made me turn my head. Sofía was lying on her back on a sun lounger, legs open and a guy between them. Another offered her his cock over her head, which she had let fall over the edge, and she took him all the way in. She grabbed the buttocks of the man on top of her face to make him push deeper. The first one was fucking her with a rhythm no one had ever set for her before. And my wife was screaming, and laughing, and opening her mouth again whenever they let her breathe.

The rest of the garden was already in full party mode. Couples, groups, a few more focused scenes in the corners. There were men to spare. Our women had no shortage of turns.

A little while later Sofía rode one of them while she masturbated two others. One of the men being jerked off was holding a leash in one hand. At the end of the leash, on all fours on the edge of the pool, was a woman. It took me a second to recognize her: it was Camila. And the one holding her on the leash was the organizer.

—He’s got her completely under his spell —Mauricio said without stopping his slow stroking—. He can do whatever he wants with her. The last time he suggested she move on to the second phase, she thought about it for three days and said no. This time I think she’s going to say yes.

—Fuck. And what the hell is the third phase?

Mauricio was going to answer me, but I didn’t give him time. Sofía had climbed down from the lounger and was running toward the cabin. How she managed it in those heels, I have no idea. I got up behind her. At the exit to the grounds, one of the staff stopped me.

—You can’t have contact with the girls until the party’s over.

I went back to the bar. This time I poured myself a pineapple juice. Before I could sit down, Sofía reappeared by the pool. She was wearing a leather collar around her neck and a leash between her teeth. She walked on all fours up to the organizer, offered him the end of the leash, and lifted her head. Without looking at anyone else, he wrapped it around his wrist.

He paraded the two of them all over the area, never once entering ours. He brought them to the border and there, with short, precise tugs, made them strut in front of the cuckolds like in a dog beauty contest. And then, still without looking at us, he turned around and led them away through a side door.

—We can leave now —said Mauricio—. The last time he took her away like that, I didn’t see Camila again until the next day. That night he popped her ass cherry. Something her lover hadn’t been allowed to do. Nor me. Nor any cucker.

—What pisses me off most about all this —said Ramiro— is not being able to watch it.

The four of us laughed. Bruno raised his glass and the rest of us answered. We toasted our queens, the fourteen days still ahead of us, and the second phase, which had already caught up with us before any of us had even signed the paper.