My Wife Told Me What Happened with Nora at the Gym

That Saturday afternoon, the house was silent. The kids were at my mother’s, the blinds half-lowered, a golden late-May light coming through the bedroom window. We’d eaten late and badly, and afterward we’d climbed into bed with no particular intention beyond resting. But everyone knows how those naps end when you’ve spent fifteen years sleeping with the same skin and you still love her and still want to fuck her.

Mariana was lying on her back, in panties, with one of my old T-shirts riding halfway up. Her nipples showed through the thin cotton, two hard points I’d been trying not to look at for half an hour. I traced the line from her navel to the waistband with my fingers, slowly, in no hurry to get anywhere. She smiled with her eyes closed and her legs slightly spread.

“Tell me again,” I said.

“Tell you what?” she replied, even though she knew perfectly well what.

“The thing in the locker room. The thing with Nora.”

She opened one eye and looked at me with that mixture of laziness and mischief she gets when she knows she has power over me. She’d told me the story only once, two weeks earlier, in a low voice and in the dark, as though she were still embarrassed by it. Since then, I hadn’t touched her without remembering it, and I hadn’t fucked her without imagining the other woman sucking her tits while I penetrated her.

“You’re such a pest,” she murmured. “I already told you.”

“Tell me again,” I insisted, running my palm over her thigh and opening it barely an inch. Her panties were already showing a damp patch down the middle.

She sighed. She turned slowly, settled against my chest, and began.

***

“It was Thursday,” she said, almost against my neck. “I left work exhausted, with that anger I get when the day has been a complete shitshow. I didn’t want to come home like that. I changed in the car and went straight to the gym.

I remembered that she’d come home very late that day. I’d already been asleep when she arrived.

“I trained harder than usual,” she continued. “An hour on the bike and then weights until my legs couldn’t take any more. I was sweating as if someone had thrown a bucket of water over me. All I could think about was getting under the shower and ceasing to exist for a while.

I stroked her waist. She drew a breath.

“The locker room was almost empty. It was late, after ten. There was a girl gathering her things in the other row, and the door to one of the showers was closed; I could hear the water running. I started undressing with my mind already somewhere else, folding my T-shirt without looking, then my pants, everything. When I was down to my underwear, the shower door opened.

“And she came out.”

“Nora came out,” she corrected. “Though I didn’t recognize her at first. I’d seen her in classes before, but always with her ponytail pulled tight and her face red from exertion. Like that, fresh from the shower, she was a different woman. Her dark hair was loose and wet, stuck to her back. And she had a small white towel tied beneath her breasts. Really small. It covered exactly what it needed to. You could see almost her entire tits above it, round and pressed tight against the towel, and below it you could make out her ass every time she took a step.

“How did she look at you?”

“She didn’t look at me at first. She was drying her hair with another towel, her head tilted to one side. Drops ran over her shoulders, over her collarbone, slipping between her breasts above the towel. I stood there frozen, in bra and panties, with my gym bag still on the bench. I watched her without being able to help myself. My mouth went dry just looking at her, seriously, as if I’d never seen another naked woman in a locker room.

I made a small sound in my throat. She laughed softly without opening her eyes.

“When she saw me, it was strange,” she continued. “She lifted her head, brushed her hair away from her face, and smiled at me as if we’d known each other all our lives. ‘Hi. Weirdly late, isn’t it?’ she said. And instead of answering like a normal person, I said, ‘The shower suits you.’ I swear, I don’t know where that came from.

“And her?”

“She laughed. She came over to the bench to get her lotion, and as she passed, the towel shifted a little. It didn’t fall off, but it shifted. You could see the mark the elastic of her panties had left on the inside of her thigh. Her skin was very pale. Almost milky. And between her legs you could make out her shaved pussy, a neat triangle that appeared and disappeared depending on how the towel moved.”

I ran my fingers over her hip. Mariana shivered without realizing it.

“She sat beside me on the bench,” she said. “Half a meter away, no more. She started rubbing lotion into her legs, slowly, as if I weren’t there. She spread her thighs to reach all the way up, and from where I was sitting I could see everything. I still hadn’t finished undressing. I’d frozen with my bra on, pretending to look for something in my bag, and my panties were getting wet in a way that embarrassed me. Then she said, ‘Hey, would you put some lotion on my back? I can’t reach properly.’ And she held the bottle out without looking at me.

“And you took it.”

“I took it. I sat behind her, my knee almost touching her hip, and lowered the towel a little. Just enough. I poured lotion into my hand and started with her shoulders. Her skin was warm from the shower, and the lotion heated up as I touched her. It smelled like coconut, and that scent got into my head and still hasn’t left.

“Did you talk?”

“A little. Stupid things. The Wednesday class, the guy at reception. I answered her more with my head than with my voice. I moved my hands up her spine, down to her lower back, then up again. Every time I reached her shoulders, her skin broke out in goose bumps. Her nipples hardened, showing at the sides of the towel, two pink tips rising and falling with her breathing. Then she said to me, without turning around, ‘You have wonderful hands. Your husband is a lucky man.’ She said it quietly, as though it were a secret.”

I swallowed.

“And you?”

“I didn’t answer. I kept spreading the lotion. I rubbed it along her sides too, beneath her armpits. When I brushed the side of her breast, she didn’t move away. Not at all. I ran my thumb, as if by accident, right over the edge of her nipple, and she let out a short sigh that escaped her throat without permission. She went very still, breathing a little harder. Then she turned her head just enough to look at me over her shoulder and said, ‘Are you shy?’ And I told her no.

“Were you?”

“I felt a lot of things. Shy wasn’t one of them. I was soaked, darling. Soaked. I could smell myself.

I let out a laugh I hadn’t meant to, and my cock suddenly went hard against her hip. She felt it and smiled without saying anything. She continued, her eyes still closed.

“She turned all the way around. We ended up sitting face-to-face on the bench, both of us in our underwear, her towel loose across her lap. She took the bottle of lotion from my hand and said, ‘Now me.’ I hadn’t decided anything. I let her.

“Tell me that slowly.”

“She undid my bra. She didn’t take it off. She just released the clasp with two fingers and let the straps fall from my shoulders. My tits were half-loose beneath the cups, my nipples poking out over the edges. Then she poured out some lotion and rubbed it over my back, slowly, just as I had done to her. But she knew where to press. Every time she reached my lower back, she pushed with her thumbs, and I leaned forward without meaning to. Her towel had fallen off completely. I could see her from the corner of my eye, without daring to turn my head. She had silicone tits, but they were beautiful, high and firm, with very small, very dark nipples, and between her legs that bare pussy I’d seen before.

“And then?”

“She ran her hands around to the front. Over my shoulders, toward my breasts. Over them, not underneath. But now there was no lotion. She leaned close to my ear and said, ‘You have beautiful breasts. Natural ones. I had surgery three years ago and I still regret it.’ I didn’t answer. I took her hand and left it where it was. She understood and slipped her fingers beneath the cup. She grabbed my tits for real, both of them, and pinched my nipples between her thumb and forefinger as if she knew exactly how I like mine pinched. A moan escaped me. A whore’s moan, darling, not a sigh. One of yours.”

“Jesus, Mariana.”

“Wait.”

She raised herself slightly, leaning against my chest, and finally looked at me. Her eyes were bright and her jaw tense, as when she remembers something that embarrasses her but that she also likes. I brushed a strand of hair from her forehead. I slipped my hand beneath her shirt and pinched one of her nipples the way she had just described. Her breath caught.

“Keep going,” I told her.

“She straddled the bench,” she said. “I was at one end, she was at the other, our knees almost touching. She pulled the cups of my bra down without taking it off, just the cups. My tits came loose above them, my nipples hard as stones. And she just stayed there, looking at me, as if waiting for permission. I told her, ‘We’re not going to do anything.’ And she told me, ‘We’re not going to do anything.’ And she leaned in.”

“She kissed you.”

“Not exactly. She brought her face toward mine, slowly, and stopped an inch away. I could feel her breath. She smelled like toothpaste. I closed my eyes. And then I felt her mouth, but not on my mouth. On my neck. Right here”—she put her hand to the hollow of her collarbone—“She kissed me very slowly, with just the tip of her tongue showing, moving up toward my ear. She bit my earlobe. She slipped the tip of her tongue inside. And all I could think was, ‘If someone comes in now, my marriage is over.’”

“But nobody came in.”

“Nobody came in. The girl in the other row had left without us noticing. I could hear the rain outside against the tall windows. Nothing else.”

She paused. I stroked the back of her neck slowly, trying not to break her rhythm, even though I was so hard it hurt against the seam of my pants.

“She pulled my bra all the way down,” she continued. “And she bent over. She sucked my nipples, one first, then the other. No hurry. As if she had all the time in the world. She licked them slowly, in circles, and then took them gently between her teeth and tugged a little, just enough to make another moan escape me. She sucked my whole breast, then pulled away with a wet sound and blew over my damp nipple to watch me tremble. I put my hand in her wet hair. It was cold. I pressed her against my breast, and she laughed with her mouth full. She moved down over my stomach and kissed me above my navel. When she reached the waistband of my panties, she lifted her head and looked at me. Her lips were shining, and there was a smear of my sweat on her chin. She caught the waistband between her teeth and tugged it down a little. And I said to her quietly, ‘Stop. If we keep going, I won’t be able to.’”

“And she stopped.”

“She stopped. She straightened up, sat upright on the bench again, picked up the towel, and laid it across her lap as if it were the most normal thing in the world. Her cheeks were red and there was a glint on her lip. I was trembling. Not from fear. From everything. My panties were so wet they stuck to my pussy. I was almost coming without her even touching me, darling. Almost.”

“Did you talk afterward?”

“She said, ‘Relax. I know. I’m married too.’ She said it with a smile, without reproach. Then she said, ‘But if you ever get over your foolishness, I’ll buy you a coffee.’ She gave me her number, writing it with her finger on the fogged-up mirror, and went to get dressed on the other side of the locker room. I got into the shower. I stood under the cold water for twenty minutes without thinking about anything. Then I put my hand between my legs and came standing against the tiles, biting my fist so I wouldn’t scream. With her name in my head.

“Did you write down the number?”

She opened her eyes. She looked straight at me.

“I memorized it before it disappeared.”

***

We stayed quiet for a moment. I slipped my hand beneath her shirt. She was hot, and her heart was beating faster than she would admit. I kissed her temple.

“And now?” I asked.

“Now what?”

“Have you called her?”

She thought about it. It took her a while to answer.

“Not yet.”

“‘Yet’ is a very long word.”

She laughed. She turned on top of me, straddled me just as she had described straddling Nora a minute earlier, and took my hands. She placed them on her breasts over her shirt. She felt my hard cock beneath her and pressed her pussy down onto it, moving her hips slowly.

“Would it bother you if I called her?” she said.

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether you let me watch.”

A smile escaped her that I had never seen before. She leaned down and kissed me very slowly on the mouth, with just enough tongue, then whispered against my lips:

“We’ll see about that.”

And she bit my lower lip and tugged it the way Nora had done to her nipple, according to what she’d just told me. I yanked her shirt over her head. Her heavy breasts fell onto my face, and I took a nipple into my mouth and sucked it the way I’d spent half an hour imagining the other woman sucking it. She moaned. She grabbed my hair. She rubbed it against my tongue, switching me from one breast to the other, her hips moving over my cock in increasingly tight circles.

“Fuck me thinking about her,” she whispered in my ear. “Fuck me as if she were watching me from there.”

I laid her on her back. I tore off her panties, which were useless now, they were so soaked, and spread her legs with my knees. I ran two fingers over her pussy, from bottom to top, and they were shiny all the way to the knuckles.

“Look at the state you’re in,” I told her.

“Shut up and put it in me.”

I lowered my face. I licked her entire pussy, from one end to the other, then stopped at her clitoris. I sucked it the way she likes, in slow circles, and pushed two fingers inside her at the same time. She was so wet that my fingers slid all the way in with the first thrust. She arched and pressed my head against her pussy with both hands.

“That’s it, that’s it, don’t stop,” she panted. “She would have done it to me like this too, fuck, I’m sure she would, with that mouth…”

I listened to her talk about the other woman while I ate her pussy, and I got even harder. I added a third finger and stretched her slowly, continuing to suck her clitoris until her legs began trembling against my ears. She came like that, in my mouth, squeezing my thighs against her cheeks and muttering Nora’s name without realizing it.

I climbed over her with her taste still on my lips. I thrust my cock into her all at once, all the way in, and she let out a hoarse cry that caught in her throat. I began fucking her slowly, very deep, looking into her eyes.

“Call her tomorrow,” I told her against her mouth.

“Really?”

“Call her. And arrange to meet her. And I’ll watch you.”

She dug her nails into my back. I lifted one of her legs and placed it over my shoulder, then started fucking her harder, faster, with that dry, pounding rhythm that makes the bed squeak. I grabbed one of her tits with my free hand and squeezed it the way she had just told me the other woman had squeezed it, pinching her nipple until she moaned.

“Imagine her beneath you,” I told her. “Her tongue on your pussy while I fuck you from behind.”

“Shut up, shut up…”

“Imagine her.”

She came again, squeezing my cock inside her with those spasms she gets and that I’ve known for fifteen years. She pulled me out herself, pushed me upward, and took me into her mouth without saying a word. She sucked me all the way to the root, looking up at me with eyes bright from saliva. She swallowed my cum in its entirety, without pulling away, without spilling a drop. When she finished, she wiped herself with the back of her finger, put it in her mouth, and smiled at me.

“I’m going to suck hers like that too,” she said.

After that, we didn’t speak for quite a while. But that night, while she slept facedown beside me with her shirt rolled up around her waist and her naked ass gleaming in the reflection of the blinds, I took her phone from the bedside table and checked her contacts. There was a new one. A single letter: N.

And instead of deleting it, I smiled in the darkness.