The Confession I Never Made to My Husband

The first time Marcos spoke to me, he did it slowly, as if he had all the time in the world. That voice of his—deep, steady, without urgency—was the first thing that threw me off balance. Rodrigo never spoke to me like that. Rodrigo was always in a hurry.

I came on the trip without thinking too much about it. My sister Daniela had been insisting for weeks, and giving in was easier than listening to her arguments any longer. Rodrigo couldn’t come, or didn’t want to; it’s all the same. What I do know is that when I got on the plane alone, I felt something close to relief.

I had been with the same man for eleven years. Before him, a couple of kisses in my teens, the occasional bold hand at a party. Nothing else. When we got married and the wedding night came, what I had expected to be romantic turned out to be quick and rough, as if he had been holding back for too long and could no longer wait. He fucked me with hardly any wetness, came in three minutes on top of my stomach, and fell asleep. I didn’t complain. I thought that was how it was. Eleven years thinking sex was those short thrusts of Rodrigo’s, his limp cock going in and out without rhythm, his quick load, and his back bidding me good night.

***

Marcos was Kevin’s cousin, the boy Daniela had met on the first day. Kevin was impulsive, young, with that energy of someone who needs to prove something all the time. Marcos was different. He had a way of looking at you that made you feel like he was reading you from the inside, and an almost old-fashioned courtesy that clashed with the resort atmosphere. He asked me if I wanted a drink. He asked once, without insisting. And he waited.

That was enough for me.

I’m not going to recount everything that happened in those first few days as if it were a list of feats, but I will tell you what matters. The first night, in Marcos’s room, he undressed me standing against the door and spent almost an hour just kissing my neck, my breasts, biting my nipples until they were hard as stones, sucking them as if they were the only thing in the world that interested him. Rodrigo never lingered on my tits for more than thirty seconds. Marcos knelt between my legs before he even put his cock in me, opened my cunt with two fingers and licked me until I soaked his beard, unhurried, searching every fold with his tongue, sucking my clit with his lips and letting me come twice in a row on his face. I was crying and laughing at the same time, gripping the sheets, because I had no idea you could do that to a woman.

When he finally pulled his cock out, I caught my breath. It was thick, dark, much bigger than Rodrigo’s, the head shiny from how worked up he was. The first time Marcos looked me in the eyes while I had his cock in my mouth, I felt something I couldn’t have named precisely. Pride, maybe. Or the recognition of something that had always been there, waiting. I opened my mouth as wide as I could and let him push slowly to the back of my throat, until tears sprang to my eyes and I had to breathe through my nose so I wouldn’t choke. He held my hair back with both hands and whispered in my ear, “Like that, baby, take the whole thing, show me how well you suck it.” And I sucked it, slathered it with spit, took it out of my mouth to run my tongue underneath it, from the balls to the tip, and shoved it back in until I was choking.

Its taste was unusual. Sweet, with something acidic underneath it, like a fruit you can’t identify but want to keep tasting. When he came in my mouth that first night, he filled my throat with thick, warm semen, and I swallowed it without thinking, every drop. First time in my life. Rodrigo had never asked me, and I had never offered; it had always seemed like an awkward idea to me, until it wasn’t. Until I was the one asking, the next night, kneeling in the shower, looking up at him with my mouth open and my tongue out, asking for his load like a bitch.

And then came the fucking proper. Marcos threw me onto the bed on my back, spread my legs and pushed his cock in slowly, centimeter by centimeter, looking me in the eyes while I felt how he filled me completely, how he stretched me, how he reached places Rodrigo had never touched. “You’re so tight,” he told me, and he started to move. First slowly, his hips rolling, making me feel every vein of his dick brushing against my walls. Then harder, with his hands gripping my ass, lifting me from the mattress to get it deeper. He made me come twice like that, on my back, screaming at him not to stop, my feet on his shoulders and my tits bouncing with the rhythm of his thrusts. Then he turned me over, put me on all fours, and fucked me from behind with his hand gripping my waist, fucking me like an animal, with that open palm of his that every so often landed on my ass, leaving my skin red. The third time I came, my arms gave out and I ended up with my face against the mattress, my ass in the air, and he kept pounding me until he emptied himself inside with a long growl that made me shiver.

The anal was another night, and it was different. It hurt. Marcos lubed up his fingers and spent a long while working my ass, first with one finger, then two, while he bit the back of my neck and whispered obscenities. “This little, tight ass of yours—look how it’s opening for me, baby, look how much you want it.” When he pressed the tip of his cock there, I tensed all over and complained. Marcos was patient, and in that patience there was something Rodrigo had never given me: the feeling that I mattered more than his own hurry. He stopped when I asked him to. He waited. He made me breathe deeply, touched my clit with two fingers until I relaxed, and then slid in little by little. He started again when I nodded. The pain was brutal at first, it burned, and I thought I wouldn’t be able to take it. But when he went all the way in, when I had him buried completely in my ass and he started moving slowly while he kept touching my cunt, the pain turned into something I still don’t know how to describe. I came like that, with his cock in my ass and his fingers inside my cunt at the same time, screaming into the pillow while he came behind me, leaving me with that warm sting that later dripped down the sheets. Daniela asked me afterward how it had been. I told her it was fine. She laughed.

—That’s what you say —she replied, and turned over to keep sleeping.

***

It was almost four in the afternoon when we decided to go down to the pool. We had spent much of the day in the rooms, and hunger could no longer be ignored. Marcos wanted to go out. Honestly, so did I. I needed the sun, the sound of the water, something to get me out of my own head for a while.

I put on the purple swimsuit Rodrigo had packed in my suitcase before the trip. He had packed it himself, along with a note I’m not going to repeat here. I’ll only say the note left me with a strange feeling, as if he had given me permission for something neither of us had dared to name out loud.

We walked hand in hand toward the pool. Marcos had that habit of interlacing fingers, not just grabbing your hand over the top as if it were a formality. We sat for a moment near the kiosk, and that was when I saw her.

***

Sofía was alone at the least crowded end of the pool, sitting on the underwater steps with her arms resting on the edge and her gaze lost in the water. She was dark-skinned, with black hair, straight and waist-length, and the kind of beauty that doesn’t seem to try. She was wearing a dark blue semi-thong swimsuit that fit her hips well. I recognized her from the sailboat the day before, though we had barely exchanged any words there.

When she saw us, she lifted a hand with a smile. I was holding Marcos’s hand, and for a second it made me uncomfortable that she saw me like that; on the sailboat she had mentioned she was married, that her husband Felipe had come to the resort with her.

“What a surprise running into you,” she said when I came over. “And where did this guy come from?”

“A friend,” I said. “Marcos. We met up with my sister during the first few days of the trip.”

She looked at him. Not discreetly, but directly, with a frankness I hadn’t expected from the same shy, quiet girl who had spent almost the entire sailboat ride looking at the water. Marcos, with his usual sense of timing, said he was going to the kiosk to get drinks and disappeared, leaving us alone.

“And Felipe?” I asked.

“At the bar.” She paused. “With a ‘friend’ he says he ran into here at the hotel by chance.”

The expression on her face said it all.

“Do you know him?”

“Too well,” Sofía said.

***

I suggested we go to the wet area of the hotel. There was a secluded jacuzzi, far from the main area, where the sound of the water drowned out any conversation. Marcos understood without needing an explanation: from the kiosk I signaled to him, showed him my wrist as if telling him how much time I needed, and he gave me a thumbs-up. Sofía laughed when she saw it.

“Is that how you two communicate?” she asked as we walked.

“We’ve been together less than a week. We’re still learning the language.”

The jacuzzi was occupied by other couples doing their own thing. We found a corner with more privacy, got into the hot water, and the motor noise covered everything. I leaned back against the edge and looked at her.

“Tell me,” I said.

And Sofía started talking.

***

The friend’s name was Bruno. He had appeared in their lives when she and Felipe were still dating, and from the very first moment Sofía had felt something off, though she had never been able to name it. Bruno always showed up wherever they were, managed to get Felipe drinking too much, and then offered to take Sofía home. She accepted several times, because there was no other obvious option.

“And did he cross the line with you?” I asked.

“No. That was what confused me the most. He would drive and tell me things. Things about the women he had been with, in great detail. How he would lick their cunts until they begged, how he’d fuck them from behind, how he’d finish by coming on their faces. It made me uncomfortable, but I never said anything. And sometimes, when I got home, my panties would be soaked.”

Sofía lowered her voice. The jacuzzi bubbled between us.

“One night we went out with a friend of mine, Paula. Felipe got drunk as usual, we took him home. Bruno offered to drive the two of us. Paula insisted they drop me off first, and then they’d keep going to some bar.”

I raised an eyebrow. Sofía nodded.

“Paula wanted to be alone with him. I could imagine it, but I still pretended to be asleep in the back seat. Out of curiosity. Or for something I still don’t know how to name.”

I leaned back a little more against the jacuzzi edge and let her continue. Bruno had driven until he stopped on a dark street. Paula had put a hand on him first, without anyone asking her to. She had unzipped his pants, taken out his cock, and looked at it for a moment in silence before lowering herself. What came next, Sofía told with the voice of someone who has replayed that scene many times in her head without managing to forget it.

Paula had lowered her head into Bruno’s lap and taken his cock all the way into her mouth in one go. Sofía could hear them clearly from the back seat: the wet sound of the throat opening, saliva dripping from Paula’s chin, his muffled panting, his hand guiding Paula’s nape firmly, not letting her pull away. “Like that, suck that dick, all the way in,” Bruno told her, and Paula obeyed, moaning with her mouth full. Bruno never took his eyes off the rearview mirror.

“And what did you feel?” I asked when she paused.

“Shame,” she said. “And a hell of a lot of wanting not to be Paula, but to be in her place. To be the one sucking that motherfucker’s cock.”

Under the water I noticed that her hands had stopped being still. She was touching herself over the swimsuit, pressing her cunt with the heel of her hand, without realizing it or without wanting to hide it.

I don’t know what made me say what I said next. Maybe the warmth of the water, or the intimacy of having listened to her, or simply the state I had been living in for days without really recognizing myself.

“If you want, I can do that for you while you keep telling me,” I said.

***

Sofía looked at me for a second. Two. Then she moved closer in the water, took my hand, and brought it where she wanted it. I moved the fabric of her thong aside with two fingers, felt her cunt already soaked under the hot water, the soft flesh, swollen, needy. I slid my middle finger in and she arched her back against the jacuzzi edge without stopping biting her lip. I didn’t pull away. I slid in a second finger and started moving them slowly, searching for that rough spot up top, while my thumb brushed her clit.

She kept talking, though her voice kept breaking. Bruno had pulled over on the side of the road and taken Paula with both hands, guiding her movements while she made no resistance. He had asked if she wanted him to stop, and Paula had told him no, to fill her mouth, to come inside. I listened and my fingers moved inside Sofía faster and faster, in and out, the wet sound lost under the motor’s bubbling, and her hips answered without caring to hide it, riding my hand under the water.

“And did Bruno know from the beginning that you were watching them?” I asked.

“I think so,” Sofía said, her voice already changed, panting between words. “He kept looking at me in the rearview mirror. And I had my hand inside my panties, touching myself, and I’m sure he saw it.”

I drove in a third finger and pinched her clit between my index and thumb. I felt her shudder against my hand before she finished the sentence. A quick, tense orgasm, like something that had been waiting a long time to come out. She bit her lip to stay quiet, but a long moan still escaped her, muffled against my shoulder, while her cunt pulsed tight around my fingers.

“I’ve never told anyone this,” she said afterward, with her eyes still closed.

“I know,” I said.

There was silence. A good silence.

Then Sofía looked at me differently. She asked me to sit on the edge of the jacuzzi. I obeyed. She came closer, spread my legs with that softness women have with one another, pulled the fabric of my swimsuit aside, and stayed looking at my cunt for a second before lowering her head. When her tongue touched my clit, I jolted and nearly lost my balance. She started slowly, giving long licks from the entrance up to the top, tasting me. Then she focused on the clit, sucking it with her lips, circling it with her tongue in precise motions while she slid two fingers into me and curled them inside. I leaned back on the cold tiles, not caring about anything else, my legs spread wide open and my hands buried in her black hair, pushing her face against me. She had a confidence I hadn’t expected for someone saying this was the first time she did it. Or maybe she just wanted to, and wanting makes up for experience.

“You taste incredible,” she murmured against me without lifting her head, and went back to sucking me whole, from ass to clit in one single lick, the one Marcos had taught me existed.

“Keep going,” I said. “Don’t stop, please, don’t stop.”

It was the only thing I could think to say. She pushed her fingers deeper into me, moving them like Marcos, searching for the spot, and with her mouth she never let go of my clit. I came all over her face, biting my fist, a long, jolting orgasm that left my legs trembling and my cunt dripping onto the tiles.

***

I didn’t hear Marcos coming. I saw him out of the corner of my eye when he was already a few feet away, walking slowly toward us with that calm of his that never rushed anything. He stopped. Took in the scene: me sprawled on the jacuzzi edge with my cunt out and Sofía kneeling between my legs with her mouth shining with my juices. A slow smile. His cock was already straining hard against his swimsuit.

Sofía noticed when he was already close. She looked up, a little alarmed. I looked at her, and she read my face. She relaxed.

Marcos knelt in front of me, pulled down his swimsuit, and put his cock at mouth level. I took what I already knew into my mouth, soaked as I was, and swallowed it whole down my throat, while Sofía sank her face back between my legs and kept sucking me. The collision of sensations made me lose track of time. Marcos’s cock going in and out of my mouth, his hands gripping my hair, and at the same time Sofía’s tongue wrapped around my clit and her fingers buried to the knuckles inside my cunt. I heard the other couples in the lounge moving, shifting, pretending less and less not to see us. One of the women was openly touching herself while watching us. I didn’t care. I had spent days learning that I didn’t care.

After that it was Sofía’s turn. I brought Marcos to her, holding him with my hand, watching her. She accepted him without hesitation; she took that dark, elongated member in her hands and tasted it slowly, with an attention that made me smile. She ran her tongue all along his length, stopped at the tip to lick the transparent drop that beaded there, then took him into her throat and pulled him out with a thread of saliva hanging from him. I knelt beside her and we shared him without needing to talk about it, taking turns, alternating, brushing our tongues over that cock, kissing with it between our mouths, one sucking his balls while the other swallowed his shaft. It was something new for both of us. It was easy.

Later, Marcos took her from behind. Sofía braced herself on the jacuzzi edge on all fours, her ass lifted above the water, and he pulled her thong aside and shoved his cock into her in one long thrust. Sofía screamed and I sat in front of her, opening her legs the opposite way, pressing my cunt to her mouth so she could keep eating me while Marcos pounded her from behind. Every one of Marcos’s thrusts made Sofía’s face bury deeper between my legs, made her tongue work more urgently. It was a strange geometry, and perfect at the same time. Each of us gave and received in the same rhythm. I saw over Sofía’s shoulder how Marcos gripped her hips and drove her onto his cock, saw her tits swaying under the water, saw his focused face, biting his lip. The cold tiles against my back, the sound of the water covering the noises, Sofía’s moans against my cunt made up something I had never imagined myself feeling.

Sofía came first, biting my thigh so she wouldn’t scream, trembling all over. I came on her face again, pulling her hair. Marcos held out a few more minutes, pulled his cock out of Sofía’s cunt, turned her over and laid her on her back against the edge, and came over her tits and stomach, thick white ropes of semen left hanging between her breasts. Sofía ran two fingers through it, collected it, and put them in her mouth. Then she looked at me and offered me those same fingers. I sucked them without thinking.

When Marcos finished, he leaned back against the jacuzzi edge with that look of quiet satisfaction of his. Sofía and I looked at each other from below, water up to our waists, skin smeared, hair wet, mouths swollen, and we laughed at the same time without really knowing why.

***

When we came out of the wet area it was almost night. Sofía went back to look for Felipe without either of us saying much. A kiss on the cheek. Bright eyes. I understood that what had happened didn’t need to be named to be real.

Marcos and I went up to change for the evening event. The hotel had a party in the nightclub—lingerie for the women, swimwear for the men—and I had spent days thinking about what I would wear. Rodrigo had put a red set in my suitcase that I still hadn’t opened. An attached note said to wear it for the right person.

I took it out of the bag for the first time. It was red, with fine chain details, bolder than anything I would have chosen on my own in any store. I tried it on in front of the bathroom mirror and looked at myself for a moment.

Yes, I thought. This is me now. Or maybe I always was.

Marcos was waiting at the door. He looked me up and down with that expression of his that never rushed anything.

“Ready,” I said.

“You always were,” he answered.

We went out together into the night, and I still didn’t know everything that would happen before dawn.