The Night My Wife Went Out Nearly Naked

My name is Damián, and I’ve been married to Noelia for six years. We met long before that, almost a decade ago, and over time we learned to read each other so well that we could guess what the other was going to say before they even opened their mouth. Knowing someone that deeply has something beautiful about it, but it also comes at a price: routine. And routine, without you noticing, slowly puts out the flame.

It’s not that we stopped loving each other. It was desire that had become predictable. We tried everything to rekindle it: costumes, toys, nights planned like dates. We talked a lot; that was always our luck. And it was precisely while talking, on an ordinary night, that she let out what she had been carrying inside for years.

—There’s something I’ve always liked and never dared to tell you —she said, playing with the edge of the sheet.

—What is it? —I asked.

—Exhibitionism.

I stared at her. She hurried to explain, as if afraid I’d misunderstand her.

—It’s not that I want people to see me naked. It’s something else. Going out in a skirt that barely covers me, a tiny blouse with nothing underneath, feeling eyes pinning me down. That turns me on like nothing else. You know I love it when you look at me. That’s why I always dress up like that for you.

—I suspected as much —I admitted, laughing—. And I’ll confess something: I love it when other people look at you. That’s why I never get jealous.

—I knew that too —she said, smiling back at me.

There was no more discussion. When two people want each other and finally tell each other the truth, all that’s left is to go for it.

—How do you want to start? —I asked.

—I’ve got some gym shorts that are too small for me now. They leave half my ass exposed. And a top that barely covers me. Let’s go for a walk.

***

It was close to eleven at night when we went out. Seeing her dressed like that, practically naked under the yellow glow of the streetlights, gave me an erection before we even turned the first corner. We walked aimlessly. The few men who passed turned their heads, whistled at her, muttered things. Noelia squeezed my hand and whispered how much she was enjoying every single look.

On the way home, the shorts had ridden up with the walk, and a good part of her ass was exposed. We passed a group of guys on a corner and, without thinking, I slapped one of her butt cheeks. The sound and the bounce left those men wide-eyed. She loved that I did it. The moment we closed the front door behind us, we threw ourselves on each other. I shoved her against the sofa, tore her clothes off, and took her right there, fast, hungry. She wrapped her legs around me and we came together not long after.

—That was the best thing ever —she panted afterward.

—Without a doubt —I answered.

***

The next day, things went up a notch. She put on a miniskirt that showed the curve of her ass and a thin-strapped blouse with a huge neckline. We went downtown to buy her new clothes, though “clothes” was a far too generous word. As we walked, everyone looked at her: men with lust, some women with curiosity, and most with envy. We ended up carrying bags full of miniskirts, tiny shorts, blouses that barely covered anything, and swimsuits that were nothing but three triangles held together with strings.

In the car on the way back, I slid my hand between her legs. She was soaked.

—You love showing yourself off —I told her in her ear.

—I love it —she admitted without a shred of shame.

From then on, Noelia changed her routine. Before, she used to go to the gym by car; now she insisted on walking, wearing Lycra shorts that crept up with every step until they looked like a thong. She’d come back and tell me again how she’d been looked at, what they’d said to her, how the guys at the gym went still when she did squats. Every story ended with me backing her up against a wall.

One afternoon we went to the supermarket together. She wore a miniskirt and heels, her legs endless, and she bent over on purpose every time she had to reach for something on a lower shelf. She knew exactly what she was doing. We left there with unbearable tension. In the car, she climbed up onto her seat on her knees and pulled my zipper down. We had tinted windows; no one could see inside. But at a red light, a bus full of people stopped beside us. I switched on the interior light, put my hand on the back of her neck so she wouldn’t stop, and rolled down her door window.

She understood everything without me saying a word. She moved her hips toward the window, almost naked except for a red thong, while the people on the bus stared at her in disbelief. I rolled the window up just in time and drove home with shaking hands.

***

As the days went by, I started to notice something new in myself. It wasn’t enough anymore just to have people looking at her. The idea of someone touching her started turning me on.

She herself was the one who lit that spark. One day she came back from the gym and told me that a trainer, some guy named Bruno, had come over to “correct her posture.” She never needed help to train, but she let him because he couldn’t take his eyes off her. He’d stand behind her during squats, adjust her hands on her thighs, on her abdomen, and a couple of times, according to her, he brushed against her body with more than just his hands. That set her on fire inside.

On the way home she always passed a barber shop. That day it was empty, only the two barbers who used to say things to her. As she walked by, one of them slapped her ass. She was startled for a second, but the boldness excited her so much she kept walking with her heart racing.

The moment she told me, I shoved her against the wall.

—So now they’re going to be touching you all the time —I said in her ear, holding her still—. That’s what you wanted, right?

—Yes —she moaned—. That’s what I want.

—I’m sure you’re already wanting to go back to the gym so that guy can stick to you again.

—I want to feel him —she murmured.

The words spilled out on their own, without thinking, carried by the heat. That night we ended up exhausted, me on top of her, out of breath, knowing we had crossed another line.

***

The next day she came back from the gym and, before she could say anything, I made her kneel and shoved my cock into her mouth while I asked her to tell me.

—The two barbers slapped my ass this time —she said between caresses—. Bruno showed up at the gym not long after. He wouldn’t stop flirting. During a break he gave me a slap, but I saw it coming in the mirror, so I wasn’t scared. I even arched my back a little. He smiled at me in the reflection.

—And the barbers? —I asked, holding myself back.

—They touched me again. One of them told me why didn’t I come in to “eat something.” I laughed and kept walking.

I couldn’t take it anymore. I lifted her up, set her against the counter, and fucked her hard. She was dripping wet.

—You love that everyone knows what you are, don’t you? —I said, pulling her hair.

—I love it —she replied.

—If they invited you and you didn’t say yes, then you’re not that daring.

There was a silence. She didn’t answer. I was too far gone to stop.

—Would you want to eat it for real? —I pressed.

—I don’t know —she panted—. I didn’t know if I could.

—You can do whatever the hell you want —I told her—. If you want, next time you say yes.

—Yes —she moaned, lost—. Next time I’ll say yes.

I came inside her with an intensity that left me empty. When we caught our breath, I cleaned myself off, kissed her on the shoulder, and casually dropped:

—By the way, tomorrow we’re going to the beach. I bought you a new swimsuit.

—Really? —her face lit up—. Let me see it.

She pulled from the bag what could barely be called a swimsuit: some very thin strings, two triangles that covered just the nipples and nothing more. She looked at me knowingly and went to the bathroom to try it on. When she came out, there was almost no fabric at all. She was practically naked, and she knew it. She looked spectacular.

***

We drove to a beach we’d discovered on one of our getaways. It was one of those places almost nobody knows about: quiet, beautiful, hidden. When we arrived, there were no more than twenty people along the whole stretch of sand. We settled in a secluded corner, far from the few silhouettes visible in the distance.

Noelia’s string bikini drew attention the moment she stepped onto the sand. We went into the water, enjoyed the sun, bought some ice cream from a vendor who passed by. We walked along the shore and men couldn’t stop looking at her. It turned both of us on in the same way.

Back in the water, after a few minutes a tall, dark-skinned man with broad shoulders came over and started talking to us. The three of us chatted for a good while. But I was starting to feel a new, dangerous curiosity: I wanted to see what she would do if I stepped away.

—Love, I’m going to lie down for a bit —I said—. Then we’ll eat.

—Okay —she replied.

I got out of the water, lay down on a sun lounger, and put on my sunglasses. With them on, no one could tell whether my eyes were open or closed. Ten, maybe fifteen minutes passed. They were still in the water, laughing, getting closer and closer. At one point he hugged her. I thought they were kissing. But she gently pulled away and the two of them got out of the water. They didn’t come toward me. Noelia shot me a quick glance to check whether I was asleep and walked off to the left with the guy, toward where I knew there was an old, closed-up cabin.

I waited a second and slipped out behind them. I knew every corner of that place. I made my way through the bushes, with the utmost care, making no noise. When I reached the cabin, I saw them.

They were kissing with an intensity that left no doubt. He had his hands on her ass, slid one hand around to the front, and moved that tiny string aside. She was answering him with the same urgency. I hid among the plants, where they could never see me, and I couldn’t help starting to touch myself. My wife was cheating on me a meter away, and I couldn’t stop watching.

He turned her around, bent her forward, and slid into her slowly, holding her by the hips. Then he lifted her in his arms, spreading her legs, and held her there while she dug her nails into his back. Between the sound of bodies and Noelia’s moans, I came in the sand, stifling any noise. A little later he emptied himself inside her, and the two of them stayed still, holding each other, catching their breath.

I ran off before they finished settling themselves. I got back to our spot, sat down, and opened a beer with hands that were still shaking. After a while she showed up. When she saw me awake, she got nervous.

—Oh, you’re awake already —she said—. I went to show the guy the cabin; do you remember how pretty it looks over there?

—That’s nice, love —I answered calmly—. I just woke up a little while ago.

The guy came over, said hello, and left. Noelia sat down next to me and let out a nervous little laugh, not telling me anything. I suppose she was afraid I’d leave her. But she was very wrong. Seeing her with another man had lit something in me that I didn’t even know existed.

I didn’t say anything to her that afternoon. I was going to wait. I was going to let guilt soften her up until she confessed it to me in her own words. And when she did, I knew exactly what we were going to do after that.