The Anniversary Gift I Gave My Wife

We had been together for fifteen years, and this was going to be our best anniversary yet. I had planned it for weeks, with the owner of the place in on my madness. Carolina had no idea what was waiting for her, though she suspected it would be something out of the ordinary.

We knew that sex shop well. We had been there before, bought toys, even locked ourselves once in one of the private booths to fuck without caring who might hear us on the other side of the door. But tonight was different.

I took her there minutes before closing, just as we’d arranged. She looked gorgeous, her hair tied up in a high ponytail that emphasized her long neck, a black blouse with just enough of a neckline, a leather skirt that hugged her hips, and heels that made her ten centimeters taller. Night makeup, lips painted a deep, intense red that got me hard just from looking at them.

All the way in the car she had been laughing, telling me the theories she was coming up with about the gift. That maybe I’d bought her a new harness. That maybe it was a happy ending massage session. That maybe I’d finally dared to hire a woman to play with us.

—Things are hot, huh? —I said as I parked.

—Very —she replied, biting her lip—. I’ve been soaking wet since we left home.

***

The owner greeted us with a knowing gesture and led us into the back room. He closed the shop’s front door and pulled down the shutter. That was the signal. We were alone in the building, except for one other person whose face Carolina would never see.

We stepped into a windowless room that smelled of disinfectant and something darker, more intimate. A red leather sofa, a matching armchair, a black screen turned off in a corner, the heat turned all the way up, and a warm light that painted everything a coppery shade. I led Carolina to the back wall, wrapped one arm around her waist, and whispered in her ear.

—I love you more than anything in this world, babe. I hope you like this as much as I liked thinking it up.

She turned to kiss me. A long kiss, with tongue, the kind of kiss that tells you there’s no going back now. Then she looked ahead and brought both hands to her mouth.

In the wall there was a perfectly round hole, its edges padded with black fabric tape so nobody would rub against it. And sticking out through that hole, dark against the red light, a cock. Black, thick, still only half hard. Circumcised. And tied at the base with a gold gift ribbon.

Carolina fell silent. I took advantage of it to explain the rules.

—This is your gift. And there’s only one rule. I stay here with you. That cock is yours for tonight. Do whatever you want with it, whatever you feel like, whatever you’ve always wanted to try. The man on the other side won’t see you. You won’t see him. We won’t know who he is, we’ll never know. It’s just a cock. And it’s yours.

She called me crazy. She called me an asshole. She called me a genius. All in the same sentence, whispered, with her eyes fixed on that hole from which someone else’s dick now dangled.

***

We had never involved another person in our games in a real way. We had flirted over video chat with another couple, masturbated on camera while they did the same, but all within the safety of a screen. We had talked a thousand times about threesomes. We had fantasized about it in bed while I whispered dirtier and dirtier scenarios into her ear and she came with my hand between her legs.

But talking is one thing, and having a strange piece of living flesh in front of you, waiting for someone to touch it, was something very different.

Carolina took two steps forward. She stood looking at it from closer up, tilting her head like someone studying a sculpture in a museum.

—Can I touch it? —she asked me without turning around.

—It’s yours.

She reached out. Pulled back. Laughed nervously. Reached out again, this time less afraid, and wrapped her fingers around the shaft. She glanced at me out of the corner of her eye, laughing like a little girl caught being mischievous. I wasn’t laughing. I was holding my breath.

She started moving it gently, up and down, awkwardly at first, finding the rhythm after a moment. That cock, which even at rest was considerable, began to harden. It didn’t grow much longer, but it did get thicker, until Carolina’s small hand could barely fit around it completely. It was impressive. One of those you only see on screen, and not even always then.

The room fell absolutely silent. I had stopped existing, I realized that at that instant. Carolina wasn’t looking at me anymore. Her full attention was fixed on that strange dick, almost devoutly. Without realizing it, her left hand came to rest on one of her breasts and squeezed it over her blouse.

At last, in a gesture that seemed to cost her, she turned her head toward me.

—Are you sure? —she asked, her voice a little rougher than usual—. If you’re not comfortable, we stop right now and go home.

It was she who was giving me the exit now. It was she who was offering me a way out. I was jealous, of course I was, I felt a pinch in my stomach that I couldn’t tell if it was fear or excitement or both mixed together. But I was hard as a rock in my pants. I nodded without speaking. I couldn’t get the words out.

Carolina smiled. She grabbed one end of the gold ribbon and pulled gently. It fell to the floor, useless now. The gift was open.

***

What came next was one of the strangest and most exciting things I’ve ever seen in my life. Carolina, my wife of fifteen years, the mother of my children, the woman who made my coffee every morning, focused on that anonymous penis with a dedication I had never seen her give to anything that wasn’t my own body.

She jerked it slowly, squeezing hard when she reached the glans, loosening as she slid back to the base. Every so often she brought the tip up to her face, brushed it against her cheek, smelled it. I imagined her absorbing the heat, the texture, the smell of an unknown man, and I felt humiliated and deeply aroused at the same time.

She undid two buttons of her blouse. She slipped her free hand through the neckline and stroked her breast directly. She never wore a bra when she went out with me. She knew it and I never blamed her for it.

The next step was inevitable. We both knew it. She brought her lips to the glans and only barely brushed it at first, like a tasting, teasing it with her tongue.

That look she fixed on my eyes then, I know it well. She had given it to me a thousand times before while sucking my cock. The difference was that this time the cock in her mouth wasn’t mine, but that of some lucky guy whose face I couldn’t even see. That look was for him. And at the same time it was for me. And jealousy and excitement split me in two.

She opened her mouth wide and took the whole head in. She had to work for it. This wasn’t small, or comfortable, or easy to manage. She was drooling. Saliva ran down her chin, her neck, into the valley between her breasts. She pulled her blouse over her head, her tits bounced as she moved, her nipples hard and dark. She went back to the task with more room.

She found a cushion on the floor, placed it under her knees, and knelt as if in church. Then it occurred to her that the skirt was in the way. She stood up for a second, pulled it down over her hips, took it off with a gesture that was already pure impatience. She took off her panties too, and was left naked except for her stockings and heels, which emphasized her calves.

She went back to the cushion, went back to the task, and this time took the cock into her mouth halfway, choking, pulling back a couple of centimeters, then pushing forward again.

I had taken mine out long ago. I was jerking myself slowly, without rushing, trying to memorize everything. There was a new smell in the room, a mixture of her perfume, her saliva, and a sweat that wasn’t mine. The screen stayed off and yet this was the best erotic show I would ever see in my life.

***

I thought about going over and offering her my cock for a double blowjob. I discarded it immediately. That moment was hers. I was the spectator; I was the one who had signed the contract with my own hands. Breaking it would have been stealing her gift.

Carolina alternated between mouth and hand. She pulled it out, licked it from base to glans with her tongue flat, sucked the shaved balls that peeked through the hole, then took it back in. She had found an almost religious rhythm. And while she did that, her other hand had traveled between her legs. She touched her clit with two fingers, squeezed it, rubbed it in circles. Sometimes she slipped a finger into her cunt and pulled it out again shining wet.

I finally moved closer, but not to invade anything. I knelt behind her, ran my hands over her back, her hips, her thighs. I touched her everywhere I know she likes to be touched. She was still with her mouth full, her free hand squeezing a breast, smearing it with the saliva dripping down.

I had an idea. I asked her to raise herself a little on her knees, to open her legs wider. I lay down on the floor on my back beneath her, sliding until my face was right under her sex. I grabbed her ass and pulled her toward my mouth.

I started eating her pussy from below. Carolina kept sucking that stranger’s cock above my face, her tits hanging like pendulums, droplets of saliva splashing my forehead. It was a surreal image that only my eyes saw, and one I remember every time I look at her.

I filled my tongue with her taste, sucked her clit, pushed my tongue as deep as I could. It didn’t take long. She came with the unknown guy’s cock in her mouth and my face between her legs. She didn’t take it out to moan. She swallowed the orgasm in that foreign dick, letting out only guttural sounds that vibrated through the strange flesh. I got her wetness all over my face.

I think it’s a miracle the guy on the other side didn’t come right then and there.

***

I slid out from underneath her and positioned myself behind her. I pulled my pants all the way down and kicked them into a corner. Carolina was still focused on her job, she had gone back to sucking him off as if she hadn’t just had an orgasm. I grabbed her hips and drove mine in all the way in one thrust. She was so soaked I slid in without effort.

I started fucking her hard. I suppose I wanted to mark territory. While she choked on the other one, I punished her with mine in long thrusts. Her gasps came muffled by the flesh in her mouth. Her ass slapped against my hips.

At some point I wondered if the next frontier would be for that dick to go in her from the front too, if Carolina would want to be impaled on it. I nearly came just thinking about it. But there was no time for more fantasies. Carolina pulled her mouth away for a second and said, panting,

—He’s going to come. I’m sorry.

I pulled back at once. I wanted to respect the ritual. It was her gift. I had already gotten into it plenty. I stood beside her, jerked myself slowly, and watched her.

Carolina moved a little away, stuck out her tongue, and rested the glans on it. She was jerking him with both hands, her eyes fixed on the tip. The first surge fell onto her tongue, thick, white. She closed her mouth for a moment and then let it run down between her breasts, without swallowing.

The second was much more violent. The guy moaned for the first time on the other side, a dull animal moan, and ropes of semen splattered her neck, tits, belly, thighs. Carolina kept jerking him, directing the spurts wherever she wanted, smearing herself as if it were body lotion.

When that cock stopped spitting, Carolina gently squeezed from base to tip and got the last drop out. That one she took onto her tongue, slowly, almost tenderly. She let go of the cock, and a few seconds later it began to lose its erection.

***

I didn’t take long. I moved in decisively and shoved mine into her mouth without asking. I almost fucked her face, holding the back of her neck while she jerked herself off at full speed. I came down her throat a moment before she had the night’s second orgasm. She didn’t pull away. This one she didn’t spit out. This one she swallowed whole.

She collapsed onto the floor, exhausted, shining with sweat, saliva, other man’s cum and her own. I lay down beside her. She smelled like sex, like anniversary, like fifteen years of life together and like something new we had just invented between us. She hugged me without opening her eyes.

—Thank you —she whispered—. Crazy man. But thank you.

I looked toward the wall. The hole was empty. Our guest had left in silence, without making himself known, just as we had agreed. I didn’t know then, and I still don’t know now, who he was. I don’t want to know.

Until that night, we had never had anything like it. After that, other things came, of course. But that one remains the confession I keep for the days when I doubt whether this woman and I have lived through everything.