What I Found on My Husband’s Other Phone

Call me Renata.

In these stories, the protagonist is always young and dazzling, one of those exuberant women who look like they stepped out of a magazine. Not me. I’m a decent lady, an ordinary forty-three-year-old woman. I’m five feet two and weigh one hundred and six pounds. My skin is a little tanned and my hair is chestnut brown, shoulder-length. I exercise just enough not to lose my shape. The best thing about me is my face and, if I’m being honest, a firm ass that still holds itself up. I don’t dress provocatively: I like knee-length skirts and leggings. I’m an elementary school teacher, and that means I have to maintain a serious image.

I grew up in a small town, with the strict religious upbringing you can already imagine. My mother punished me just for glancing at a boy out of the corner of my eye. I never had boyfriends or any experience, and I married a virgin at twenty-six. That marriage ended in humiliation and silence, and the only beautiful thing it left me was my daughter Camila, who is eighteen today.

The divorce was a scandal, so we moved to another town in the area. I was alone with Camila until my brother-in-law introduced me to his best friend and, from the very first day, sparks flew. I was his that same afternoon. Gustavo is a wonderful man and became my second husband. He is masculine, dominant, intense. For a traditional woman like me, having him at home is like living with temptation. He loves buying me lingerie and costumes, and it turns me on when he takes me hard and talks dirty in my ear.

***

One afternoon I came home from school with gossip on my lips.

—Do you know what they told me at elementary school today?

—What? —Gustavo asked without looking up from the newspaper.

—That Ms. Lorena is sleeping with the gym teacher!

—So? That happens at every job.

—But the age difference... He’s a young guy and she’s my age. And I feel bad for her husband. Don Aurelio is a good person.

—Didn’t you tell me Aurelio was coming on to you at a party?

—Yes, but he was drunk. I didn’t encourage him.

—Maybe the husband knows everything and lets her do it —he said, folding the newspaper slowly.

—Lets her do it?

—There are open marriages, Renata.

—And what is that? How do you know about those things?

—I had a friend who lived his marriage that way. Don’t judge them. What would you prefer: getting cheated on behind your back, or under certain rules each person being able to enjoy someone else?

—I don’t believe that exists. You’d have to be seriously men…

—It’s not that crazy if the relationship is strong. Think about it. Didn’t you tell me last week the new doctor was young and handsome?

—And?

—Imagine if you had the freedom to flirt with him. To see if he responded. Wouldn’t that be exciting?

—You’re crazy. Would you allow it?

—I don’t know. If it were something that gave you pleasure, something you wanted to try…

—You don’t care who touches me anymore, do you?

—Look, I’m past fifty. I’m not who I used to be. You know it: if we do it three nights in a row, by the fourth I don’t respond anymore. I love you, but I don’t always manage to give you what your body asks for.

—I don’t ask you for more than you give me.

—But you need it. You’ve told me in your sleep.

—And wouldn’t you die of jealousy?

—I don’t know how I’d react, I’ve never lived it. Maybe I’d just ask to be present. To watch.

—I can’t believe what I’m hearing.

—It’s not my main fantasy. But it’s something a lot of people do.

—You want to open our relationship, Gustavo?

—I know you love me and you know I love you. There’s no reason to feel insecure just because you sleep with someone else once in a while.

—What if I fall in love?

—That happens more with cheating in secret, when a couple looks outside for what they don’t have at home. In an open marriage, what’s common is that they love each other more. They’re accomplices, lovers, friends.

—And what will the town say?

—That’s your problem. If you didn’t care what people said, would you be a little whore?

—You don’t like me anymore, do you? You’re telling me all this so you can go off with someone else.

—I’d never put what we have at risk, love.

—You’re an asshole —I blurted out, tears already filling my eyes—. Go off with your sluts if you want. I’m a decent lady.

I know. I was unfair. The idea of my husband wanting to see me with someone else filled me with jealousy; the idea that he wasn’t jealous enough hurt me even more. I cried all night, confused. Had he given me permission? Was he seeing someone? The next day Gustavo left on a work trip. A few weeks apart, I thought, would give me clarity.

***

By a few days later I was calmer. He called me every night and we told each other about our day like always. One morning, while putting away his clothes, I found one of the several phones he used, forgotten between two shirts. They say curiosity killed the cat. I couldn’t help myself and, after a couple of tries, I guessed the passcode.

I started with the gallery, my heart pounding in my chest. To my relief, there were only photos of us. Gustavo almost never takes me without the camera in his hand: photos and videos of me naked, in lingerie, in costumes, in a thousand positions. I felt relieved not to find another woman. And a little aroused, I confess. I like knowing I’m desired by him.

Then I opened the messaging app.

He had dozens of conversations with unknown numbers, almost all from other states. They all followed the same script. Short greetings. The strangers asked about me: my age, where we were from, what I was like in bed, what I liked. They asked for photos. He sent them or traded them. They talked about my body with the vulgarity of people commenting on merchandise. Some did video calls.

This idiot was telling perfect strangers our intimate details. He was showing them my body. Exhibiting me. And me, like his fool, not knowing a thing. The underlying issue was always the same: my husband was asking them how to make an open marriage work, how to convince me to accept another person in our bed.

I was in shock. More than disappointment, it was a kind of vertigo that wouldn’t let me sleep. At dawn I decided two things: that I still loved him, and that he deserved a lesson.

***

I stopped answering his calls. I was furious and, at the same time, I wanted to hurt him where it would hurt most. I didn’t have a plan. I just wanted to go out. Feel free. Let myself go.

But with whom? I didn’t lack admirers. I know more than one of my students’ fathers would jump at the chance to sleep with the teacher. Some colleague too. The taxi drivers were dogs salivating as I passed. But no: anyone in town would talk too much, and I had to protect my reputation. If not for me, for Camila.

I took a long shower. I shaved carefully. Just thinking about what might happen already had me wet, and I couldn’t help touching myself a little in front of the mirror. I liked what I saw. I put on more makeup than usual. What does a decent lady wear to go out for a forbidden night? I had no idea, but thanks to my husband I had lingerie to spare. I chose a black thong and a half-cup bra, semi-sheer. Over that, a white spaghetti-strap blouse and one of Camila’s black miniskirts: not scandalous, just a little above mid-thigh, but it clung to my ass and showed it off. To finish, high heels. No stockings, of course.

I decided to go to a karaoke bar I hadn’t visited in years, in San Lázaro, an hour away. Far enough that nobody would recognize the teacher, close enough for a taxi. I called Rubén, a driver I trusted completely. He has known me since I was single, he’s married, serious, about my age; I taught his daughter. Gustavo had asked me not to hire him, because of the liberties he said Rubén took when he looked at me. He arrived right away.

***

—Good afternoon, ma’am.

—Good afternoon, Rubén —I said, and got in the front seat, on the side opposite the one I always use.

—Where to?

—To San Lázaro, please. Downtown.

After a while of feeling his gaze on my legs, I shifted them so he could see them better and smiled at him.

—You look lovely, ma’am. Are you going to a party?

—No. Just to have a drink and sing a little. You know I like that.

—Is your husband meeting you there?

—No. He’s traveling.

—Good thing he lets you have fun.

Another time I would have been uncomfortable. But Rubén was trustworthy, and that day I was someone else. Insecure, but free.

—Can I ask you something, ma’am?

—Of course.

—For a few weeks now there’s been a lot of talk in the taxi groups. I don’t know if anyone mentioned it to you.

—About what?

—You know. We get everything first. —He hesitated—. At the base, some photos are being passed around. Do you have a pretty pink robe?

I felt the color rise to my face.

—What?

—Forgive me if I’m overstepping. A packet of photos arrived saying they were of an elementary school teacher from the region. —As he spoke, he handled the phone on the dashboard and opened his gallery.

And there I was, in a string thong and my sheer pink robe, my ass in the foreground, my face in profile, barely recognizable. It was one of the many photos Gustavo had shared. What humiliation. Now all the taxi drivers in the area knew my body. I tried to deny it without much success.

—Oh, that’s not me. Come on. I wish I had a body like that.

—It looks a lot like you, ma’am. Honestly.

He showed other photos: on all fours, tied to the bed, legs spread, in a schoolgirl costume, as a maid. Luckily in almost all of them the light covered my face. And I found myself strangely aroused. Seeing myself exposed, used. Knowing Rubén had no doubts. Imagining the taxi drivers and the fathers of my students looking at me with that filthy hunger. How many of them would dare ask me for something?

—There must be a mistake. They must’ve made them with that artificial intelligence.

—If you say so, ma’am. But let me tell you, you’re fucking delicious. I never imagined you were this hot.

—Respect me, Rubén. I’m a decent lady. That’s not me.

—Don’t get mad. I’m saying it with respect. A coworker is a very good friend of your ex-husband, and he confirmed it was you when we showed him the photos.

—Ugh... he’s bitter. He never knew how to take advantage of me —I replied without thinking.

The road to San Lázaro crosses a sparsely populated area, among the sugarcane fields. Suddenly Rubén pulled off the asphalt, drove behind some trees, and turned off the engine.

—And does your current husband know? —he said, placing his hand on my thigh.

—Rubén... what are you doing?

—What does it look like, ma’am? Do you want me to stop?

His hand moved up and down slowly. I was already wet without having decided to be. I didn’t scream. I didn’t fight. I just spread my legs a little.

—Don’t stop —I said in a very low voice.

There was no turning back now.

***

His fingers reached my thong and started stroking me over the thin fabric. All I could do was sigh and close my eyes. He moved the garment aside and touched my entrance, already soaked, while his other hand pinched my nipples. Suddenly I felt his mouth on mine. It started as a light kiss, but my tongue went out to meet him in surrender.

After heating me up like that for a while, he reclined my seat to make room and settled on top of me. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him hard. He lowered his mouth to my breasts, pushed up my blouse and bit my nipples delicately, licking them while he squeezed my ass. He kept going down until he buried his head between my legs and started licking me in a way that made my back arch.

At that moment, I admit it, I thought of Gustavo. About how different the way he took me was —rough, absolute ownership— from Rubén’s. I thought about what face he would make if he saw me. About how maybe it was his fault half the town thought I was available. I imagined him hurt. And at the same time I didn’t want the driver to stop. I wanted him to take me all the way.

I lifted my hips toward his mouth as best I could. His tongue worked inside, one finger in one place and another farther back, and the rhythm pushed me to my first orgasm. I moaned loudly, without caring about anything. I opened my eyes and there he was, smiling between my legs with his face wet.

—Your turn, ma’am.

He went back to his seat and unbuckled his pants. I leaned over immediately, helping him pull down his underwear. He was brown, hard, and quite a bit thicker than Gustavo’s. My mouth went straight to the tip and I started sucking him eagerly, running my tongue everywhere, swallowing him in and out. I was lost in pleasure. Since I got married I’d had, let’s say, private lessons in this art. Looking up, I saw him recording with his phone.

I didn’t care. I smiled at the camera and kept going. If the taxi base had doubts about which woman in the photos it was, this video would convince them.

—Stop, Renata, stop... I don’t want to come yet. Get on all fours, I want to see that ass.

I got back to the seat as best I could, pulled down my thong and skirt, got on all fours holding onto the seatback, and arched my back as much as I could. Rubén kept recording with one hand while with the other he ran over my ass and brushed my entrance, making me moan and wish he would fill me.

—You look so good like that, ma’am. You have no idea how much I dreamed about this. Like that, moan for me, nice and sweet.

—Fuck me, please. Fill me up.

He yanked me by the hips and laid me on my side, my face toward the window and my ass toward him. He came up behind me and rubbed the tip against my entrance.

—Ahhh, yes... put it in me. I’m your little slut.

I put my left foot up on the dashboard, opening myself for him. He lined himself up properly and shoved it in all at once, wet as I was. I’m a small woman, and big dicks had always been hard for me. But that afternoon I was too turned on, and I loved the way he entered me. I started moaning in anticipation of the second orgasm.

—Uff... you’re so tight, ma’am.

—Ahhh, yes... you open me up so good.

—I love how you squeeze me.

—Harder, please.

—You like it, don’t you, little slut?

—Yes... you fuck me so good.

It wasn’t any record, but he lasted quite a while. I clung to the seat, getting closer and closer. He was sweating and huffing as he drove into me with intensity. I was shouting with pleasure, and like a fool I blurted out:

—I love you, Rubén... I love you... yessss!

That bad habit of mine, saying “I love you” during intense orgasms. I felt his cock swell and start spilling inside me. Every thrust took me to heaven. We stayed like that for a few minutes, him softening inside, me with my vagina throbbing, hypersensitive.

***

Rubén dressed quickly without getting out of the taxi and drove off. I, still half-dressed, straightened my clothes and calmed down on the way. It was done. I had been unfaithful to my husband. And I remembered his words that night: is it better to cheat, or to enjoy someone else with permission?

—How much do I owe you, Rubén?

—What makes you think I’m going to charge you, ma’am. Quite the opposite.

—So you want to pay me?

—Haha, how much do you charge?

—I don’t know... you’re my first client —I laughed.

—Do you really love me?

—Of course not. It was the excitement of the moment.

—What a relief!

—But I did like how you fucked me.

—Can I get you pregnant? I came inside...

—No, I’m tied. Don’t worry. Are you clean?

—Yes. I got tested for everything recently.

—What a relief. Hey... can you send me the video you recorded?

—Of course. Do you want me to delete it?

—Mmm. I don’t know. With the photos, you already have a good collection.

—Ahhh. So it is you in the photos, ma’am.

—Yes. Gustavo has a way of being... very special about these things.

—Are things not good with your husband?

—They are, I love him and I think he loves me. It’s just that lately he wants to explore other things. Like being shared... you know what I mean?

—So the photos weren’t stolen, they came from him?

—Yes. But don’t talk about this with anyone. It’s a small town.

—Don’t worry, ma’am. Your husband will be an honorable cuckold. But I can’t promise that for you: a lot of people already have the package. And even if they don’t admit it, it looks a lot like you.

—How embarrassing. I’ve always been a decent lady.

—Haha... sure.

At the karaoke bar I ordered a drink and, with the music, I started forgetting everything. I felt that warm ache between my legs and I was still leaking a little. I sent Gustavo the video of me sucking Rubén off and stayed there, glass in hand, waiting to see if he had finally learned his lesson.