The Anniversary Gift That Changed Our Boundaries

It wasn’t the first time we’d set foot in that sex shop. Marina and I had discovered it a couple of years earlier, when we started talking more about the things we kept silent about, and since then we’d taken home three or four toys that served us well. One afternoon, we even ended up locked inside one of the private booths, fucking breathlessly while a scratched screen played something neither of us was watching. But that isn’t the story I came to tell.

Today’s story begins with an anniversary. Fourteen years married, the kids grown and sleeping at my in-laws’ house, and a promise I’d made to Marina two weeks earlier: «This year I’m choosing the gift, and there’ll be no arguing.» She agreed with that crooked smile she wears when she senses something is cooking.

I spoke to Damián, the store’s owner, a couple of days beforehand. It wasn’t an easy conversation to start, but he handled those things with a naturalness I envied. We agreed on a time, a room at the back, and the help of an acquaintance of his who was willing to cooperate in exchange for absolute discretion. No one was going to see anyone’s face. That was the only condition I’d imposed.

***

I took her to the shop fifteen minutes before closing. Marina looked gorgeous: a blouse with just the right amount of cleavage, a skirt above the knee, heels that made her walk as if she were stepping on glass, and makeup that had overwhelmed me in the car. I gave her a long kiss at the entrance and asked her to relax.

—What are you up to? —she asked me for the umpteenth time.

—Something you’re going to remember —I replied.

She was convinced, as she confessed to me later, that I planned to give her some new toy and make her try it right there, in that sordid room we’d mentioned so many times in passing. She went in with a mixture of fear and curiosity, and with moisture showing between her legs, as she also told me later.

Damián greeted us with a gesture and let us through to the back. The room was small, windowless, with an old armchair, a vinyl sofa, a switched-off screen on the wall, the heat turned all the way up, and a reddish light that blurred the contours. It smelled of disinfectant with an undertone of old tobacco.

I led her to the wall opposite the door, took her face in both hands, and said:

—I love you like a madman. Here’s your gift. I hope you like it.

She kissed me without understanding. When I stepped away, she looked straight ahead and brought both hands to her mouth.

***

There was a fist-sized hole in the wall, its edges lined with padded tape. A glory hole, to put it plainly. And emerging from that darkness was a black cock, thick, long, still soft, circumcised, with a small red gift bow tied around its base.

Marina was rendered speechless. I spoke to her softly, almost into her ear.

—These are the rules, my love. There are no rules. That cock is yours for today. You can do whatever you feel like with it. The only condition is that I’ll be here. In the shop there are only you, me, and the owner of that thing. The man on the other side will never come in, you won’t see his face, he can’t see us, and we can’t see him. It’s just a cock. And for a few hours, it’s yours.

She called me crazy in a whisper without taking her eyes off that penis. We had never actively involved anyone else in what we did. We’d flirted with the idea of a threesome, exchanged videos with another couple online, and spent months getting turned on imagining situations we didn’t actually dare to live out. But seeing her, my wife, standing in front of a stranger’s cock waiting patiently, I knew we were standing on the edge. Either we crossed that line, or we went home forever wondering.

***

She took two steps closer. She stood there looking, calculating distances. Then she turned toward me.

—Can I touch it?

—Whatever you want, baby.

For a second I thought about telling her that if she felt uncomfortable, we could leave and never speak of it again. There was no need. She reached out and took hold of it. She let go. Then she took hold of it again, this time more firmly. She looked at me with a nervous laugh, holding that enormous thing between her fingers, pretending not to know what to do.

She knew perfectly well what to do. She began moving it slowly, up and down, and within seconds that muscle started to wake. It didn’t grow much longer—it was already impressive at rest—but it gained a thickness and hardness I’d only seen in porn, and not even that often in porn. The silence became absolute. I disappeared from the room. In the universe there was only my wife slowly jerking off an unknown cock.

Almost without realizing it, she brought her left hand to her breast over her blouse. She caressed a nipple while her other hand kept up an increasingly confident rhythm. She looked at me only once, at first, seeking one final signal. After that, her eyes remained fixed on that penis, as if hypnotized.

—Are you sure about this? —she asked at last, without letting go.

Now she was the one throwing the ultimatum back at me. If I said a word, it would all end there. I was jealous, frightened, and had a knot in my throat. And I had a rock-hard cock inside my pants. I nodded.

Marina smiled. She took the gift bow between two fingers, pulled the ribbon, and let it fall to the floor. Then she went on jerking it, now with both hands. She brought that unfamiliar flesh to her face, rubbed it against her cheek, and caressed her lips with the glans without putting it inside yet. I imagined her taking in the smell of another man, the different heat, the new texture. She undid two buttons of her blouse, slipped her free hand inside, and began squeezing one breast. That scene wasn’t for my cock, but the spectacle was entirely mine.

***

The next step was inevitable. Without taking her eyes off me, she opened her mouth and took only the glans inside. I knew that look by heart: it was the same look she’d given me for years, the one that drove me crazy every time she knelt in front of me. The difference now was brutal: what she had between her lips wasn’t mine, the blowjob was for someone else, but the look was still for me. It hurt and turned me on like nothing else at the same time. There was no going back.

She yanked off her blouse. She never wore a bra. Her tits were left bare, heavy and firm, swaying as she struggled to open her mouth as wide as she could to take in the tip of that cock. She drew a breath, pulled it out, weighed it as if admiring a collector’s piece, and looked around for something. She found a cushion lying on the sofa, put it on the floor, knelt on it as if at Mass, and began the liturgy in earnest.

She took it deeper and deeper, no longer just the glans. Saliva began running down her chin and dripping between her breasts. With one hand she held the base; with the other she spread her own spit over her chest, squeezed her nipples, and massaged herself. I couldn’t take it anymore: I pulled down my pants and started masturbating standing up, watching the pagan mass she officiated with a devotion that would have made me jealous if I hadn’t been the one who put it there. I thought about coming closer and giving her the chance to suck both of us, but no. That moment was sacred. It couldn’t be interrupted.

***

We stayed like that for quite a while. Marina drifted in and out of a gentle trance: sometimes she pulled the cock out and licked it from top to bottom, played with the shaved balls showing through the hole, lowered her free hand to her crotch, and caressed herself over her panties. Then she would take the cock back in as far as she could, nearly gagging, release it with a moan, smile with her chin shining, and start again.

At one point she stood up, unbuttoned her skirt, let it fall, took off her panties, and was left wearing only her stockings and heels. She knelt again. Now she was fingering herself with two fingers while trying to take that flesh deeper, holding it for a few seconds with half the shaft touching her throat and forcing herself to endure it. Every time she released it, she moaned with a mischievous little-girl smile. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

I moved closer to her without bringing my own cock into the scene. I knelt behind her, caressed her tits, her belly, and the insides of her thighs. She kept sucking and masturbating. I knew she could come whenever she wanted, but she loved delaying it, playing with her own orgasm as if it were a horse she was gradually giving more rein.

I had an idea. I got her to rise a little without her leaving her knees, asked her to spread her legs, and slipped underneath her, on my back, with my head between her thighs. I began eating her pussy from below while she, above me, continued sucking. From my angle I could see her tits swaying, her wet chin, and that black cock sliding in and out of her mouth. Every so often she pulled it out, playfully slapped her face with it, laughed to herself, and swallowed it again.

She came with that cock in her mouth. My face filled with her wetness, and my tongue felt her pussy clench. She didn’t even take the cock out to moan. It seems like a miracle that the stranger on the other side didn’t come right then, because when she comes with something in her mouth, she squeezes in a way that gives no quarter.

***

Marina loved blowjobs. She didn’t just suck me because she loved me: doing it made her incredibly horny. That was why she was the best. And in that red room, she was proving it with a practical exam no panel could have passed twice.

After her orgasm, I decided it was my turn too. I moved out from underneath her, finished taking off my clothes, knelt behind her, and penetrated her without warning. She was soaked, warm, open. Her moans were muffled by the cock she still had in her mouth. I pounded her eagerly, almost angrily, wanting to remind myself that this woman was still mine. I thought about the obvious question: whether she would want to put that monster inside herself, whether she would impale herself on that thing. I never found out, because she interrupted me.

—He’s going to come —she said, pulling it out of her mouth for a second.

As a professional-level cocksucker, she knew what she was talking about. I pulled out of her, respected the liturgy, stood up, and simply watched. Marina jerked him off with her mouth open and her tongue out, resting the glans on it. The stranger came slowly at first, one warm spurt onto her tongue. Then he ejaculated like an animal: she closed her mouth but didn’t move her face away, spat some out so the cum would run down her tits, and kept jerking him while he drew white lines across her skin. From the other side of the wall came, for the first time, a few hoarse moans.

When he finished, she slowed her rhythm until she stopped. She squeezed the base, coaxed out one last drop, licked it hungrily, and released the cock gently. The penis hung suspended for a moment, losing its erection, then slowly disappeared back into the darkness of the hole.

Marina panted happily, shining with saliva, sweat, semen, and her own fluids.

—Thank you —she said, rubbing the cum over her tits as if it were cream.

I approached her determinedly, and no words were necessary. I put it in her mouth almost without warning, practically fucking her face with it. Still on her knees with her legs spread, she masturbated at top speed. I came down her throat a second before she reached her second orgasm. This time she didn’t spit anything out. She swallowed it all, eyes closed and breathing raggedly.

***

We let ourselves fall to the floor. Marina lay on her back on the worn carpet, and I stretched out beside her. We embraced with our eyes closed. The room smelled of sex, semen, perfume mixed with sweat. For a moment, neither of us said anything.

When I opened my eyes, I looked toward the hole in the wall. Only the dark opening remained. The owner of that cock had already left, without a name, without a face, without a word. As if he had never been there.

To this day, that remains the most extreme night we’ve ever lived through together. Marina mentions it from time to time, almost always in whispers, almost always when we’re already in bed and the light is off. I don’t know whether we’ll ever do anything like it again. I do know she liked the gift.