What Happened at the Swingers’ Club That Dawn

There are things a woman never says out loud, and this is one of them. That night at Lúmina club changed the way my husband and I look at each other, and I still don’t know whether it was for better or worse. I’m telling it because I need to get it out of me.

Months earlier we had gone through an experience that left its mark on us. Mauricio had gotten so turned on during a previous encounter that he ended up hurting me from behind. The pain lasted for days, and so did the tears, and although he apologized to me a thousand times, we decided to stop. No more encounters, no more shared adventures. Just the two of us, trying to trust again.

Weeks went by when we barely talked about it. I could tell he looked at me differently, with guilt, as if he were waiting for me to bring up the subject again. One morning, while we were having breakfast, I asked him if he still wanted to try other couples. He stayed quiet for a long time. Then he said yes, but only if I wanted it too.

It took me several days to decide. It was after a quiet dinner, with two glasses of wine and the house in silence, when I told him yes. That I wanted to try again, but differently, in a more cared-for place, with people who understood the rules. He stood up, opened his laptop, and started searching. That same night he found a club called Lúmina, with a good reputation and reservations open for the following Saturday.

***

We arrived a little before eleven. The building had no sign outside, just a black door with a discreet bell and a camera pointed at the entrance. We gave our names and the girl at the desk checked our details against the reservation. Mauricio squeezed my hand as we climbed the stairs. He was more nervous than I was.

Inside, the light was warm, amber, and the music played low, a mix of soft electronic beats with something more sensual underneath. There was a bar in the back, wine-colored leather sofas, and round tables arranged in a circle around a small stage. We ordered two drinks. People looked at us with curiosity but not hostility. An older couple greeted us with a wave from the far end of the room.

The first hour passed among shows: an erotic dance by a girl with a fire hoop, a clothing game with prizes, a ridiculous raffle where you won colored wristbands used to signal what you were looking for that night. Mauricio laughed as if he hadn’t laughed in months. So did I, although inside I had a knot. It wasn’t fear exactly. It was anticipation. And also a heat low between my thighs that had started soaking my panties without my asking.

***

At midnight they opened the doors to the private area. There were rooms with curtains instead of doors, a communal lounge with a huge mattress covered in white sheets, and another, more intimate room with armchairs and red light. We decided to take a look without committing to anything. Mauricio told me he was going to the bathroom for a moment and that I should wait near the inner bar.

Less than two minutes later, a man approached. Tall, early thirties, trimmed light beard, a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow. His name was Damián. He told me by extending his hand, as if we were in an office and not in a club where people were stripping in the corners.

—Are you here with someone? —he asked, without getting too close.

—With my husband. He’s in the bathroom.

—I saw you when you came in. I didn’t want to miss the chance to introduce myself. If your husband and you are open to sharing something tonight, I’d love to meet both of you.

His tone was careful. There was nothing aggressive about him, no hand reaching out, no look that made me uncomfortable. I told him I had to talk it over with Mauricio when he got back, and then I’d let him know. He nodded and stepped back, giving me room to breathe.

He’s polite. Too polite. And he has a mouth that’s terrifying.

***

When Mauricio came back, I told him everything. I described Damián, repeated the exact words he’d used to approach me. I saw my husband think it over for a few seconds, glancing sideways toward where the other man stood, assessing him from a distance.

—If he’s respectful, I don’t have a problem —he told me—. But the last word is yours.

I nodded toward Damián from the bar. He came back right away with a tray: two cold beers for them and a glass of white wine for me, as if he had guessed what I was drinking. He introduced himself formally to Mauricio, told him he’d been coming to the club for months, usually alone, and that night he’d noticed us from the moment we came in.

Mauricio relaxed quickly. Damián was one of those people who speak easily without leaving the air full of gaps. He told a couple of stories, asked about our work without pushing, and every time he laughed he looked me in the eyes a second longer than necessary. I could feel my skin getting hot under the dress and my cunt starting to pulse on its own, as if it had a life of its own.

***

At one thirty in the morning, the club host announced a game onstage. They needed three volunteers to pop balloons with darts: each balloon hid either a prize or a punishment. Mauricio volunteered before I could stop him. He stood up, winked at me, and went onstage. Damián and I were left alone at the table.

He waited through a moment of silence before placing his hand over mine. Just a touch. Then he moved up my arm, slowly, as if giving me time to pull away. I didn’t pull away. When he kissed me, he measured my response, unhurried, and then he took my hand under the table until I laid it over his pants. I squeezed his cock through the fabric and suddenly felt the whole bulge, long, thick, throbbing under my palm. I lowered the zipper with two fingers, slipped my hand into his boxer briefs, and grabbed him against the skin. He was well endowed, more than I’d guessed from the outside, so much that my breath caught for a second and my cunt clenched on its own. I started to give him a slow handjob right there, hidden under the tablecloth, while he bit my lip.

—You’re wet, aren’t you? —he whispered in my ear, and slipped his other hand under my dress. He found my panties soaked through, moved the fabric aside, and drove two fingers into my cunt at once. A moan escaped me that I muffled against his neck.

—Do you want to go? —he whispered.

Mauricio was still laughing onstage, trying to hit the balloons with the concentration of a kid at a fair. I looked at him, looked at Damián, and nodded without taking my hand off his cock.

***

We went into the communal lounge. Inside it, I understood everything all at once. There were six or seven couples. A woman in her forties was in the middle of the white mattress with two men at once, one buried balls-deep in her cunt and another fucking her mouth on his knees, while a third stood waiting his turn with his cock in his hand. Her husband watched from an armchair, calm, a glass in his hand, like someone watching a movie. Other couples were kissing in threes and fours in different corners. There was a girl kneeling, sucking two men at once, alternating between one and the other. The air smelled of perfume mixed with cum and wet cunt.

Damián led me to one of the side sofas. Mauricio joined us a little later, still wearing the yellow wristband they’d given him in the game. He sat down in front of us and looked at me hard.

—Only with him —he said in a low voice—. And only what you want.

I nodded. Damián was already naked from the waist up, and when he pulled down his pants I found myself staring at his cock again, now all of it, hard, thick at the base, the tip already shining with fluid. He had a fit body without exaggeration, marked but not rigid, and skin that smelled faintly citrusy. I knelt on the floor between his legs, took him with both hands, and put him in my mouth slowly, tasting the tip first, sucking his glans with my tongue curled around it. Then I started going down, taking him as far as I could, and when I hit the back of my throat I forced myself a little more, until tears blurred my eyes. I heard Mauricio let out a breath from the sofa opposite. He still wasn’t touching himself. He only watched as his wife swallowed another man’s cock.

I sucked his cock slowly, deeply, letting the strand of saliva drip onto his balls, sucking those too one by one while I worked him with both hands. Damián held my hair, didn’t shove, just guided me. I looked him in the eyes with his cock in my mouth and felt my cunt dripping down the inside of my thighs.

—Come up here —he said, his voice thick.

He laid me on my back on the sofa, hiked my dress up to my waist, yanked off my panties in one pull, and lowered his head. He ran his tongue along the inside of my thighs before moving up, biting slowly, and when he got to the top he didn’t rush. He opened my cunt lips with his thumbs, looked at me for a second as if admiring something, and then buried his whole tongue inside me at once. He sucked my clit with his lips, rolled it between them, let it go, then sucked it again. He slipped two fingers into me and touched me inside with the pads of them, pressing that spot that makes me tremble. I gripped the edge of the sofa with both hands and arched my back. Mauricio already had his cock out of his pants and was jerking himself off slowly, never taking his eyes off me.

—Cum in his mouth —Mauricio said, hoarse—. I want to see it.

And I came. I came in Damián’s mouth with my legs clamped around his head, biting my fist so I wouldn’t scream, feeling my whole cunt shake against his tongue. He didn’t stop, kept sucking me until the second orgasm rose up behind the first and left me crying with pleasure.

When Damián climbed on top and tried to test me from behind, nudging the tip of his cock toward my ass, my body closed up without my permission. The memory of the earlier pain hit at once, like a lash along my spine. I grabbed his face with both hands.

—From the front. Please, only from the front.

He didn’t argue. He changed position, put a pillow under my hips, spat into his hand, lubed his whole cock, and started sliding it into my cunt slowly. I felt myself opening little by little, the flesh adjusting to his. When he was all the way in, he stayed still for a second, letting me breathe. Then he started moving. Long pulls, balls-deep thrusts, at a rhythm that shook my tits under my bunched-up dress. He spread my legs wider, put them over his shoulder, and started fucking me harder, deeper, slamming into my pelvic bone with every stroke. I listened to the wet sound of my cunt swallowing another man’s cock and couldn’t believe I was the one making that noise.

Mauricio came up from the side, not joining in, letting himself be touched. I grabbed his cock with my free hand, worked it a few seconds, and then took it in my mouth from the side, sucking him while Damián kept driving into me. The feeling of having them both like that, one wrecking my cunt and the other filling my mouth, one mine and the other new, was something I had never imagined I could feel. My husband stroked my hair and whispered dirty things I had never heard him say.

—Look at her, look at her swallowing your cock —he said to Damián, in a voice I didn’t recognize—. Fuck her hard. She’s yours for a while.

Damián pulled out and flipped me over. He put me on all fours on the sofa, with Mauricio in front of me so I could keep sucking him, and shoved back into my cunt in one stroke. He started fucking me like a dog, holding me by the hips, and each slap of his thighs against my ass sounded through the whole room. I spit saliva onto my husband’s cock and took him to the back of my throat, choking a little, while the other man hammered me from behind.

A few feet away, the woman on the mattress was screaming. They had opened both her holes at once, one man underneath with his cock buried in her cunt and another on top pushing into her ass calmly, and her husband had gotten up from the armchair to come to her from the front and put his cock in her mouth. All three at once, one for each hole. It was a brutal yet ordered image, like a dance only they understood. I couldn’t stop looking at her, at the way her mouth opened around that cock and how her ass lifted to take the other one. Damián noticed where my eyes were going and sped up, fucking me faster, deeper, until he tore another orgasm out of me that made me clamp down on his cock with my entire cunt.

—I’m about to come —he warned, his teeth clenched.

He pulled out, turned me onto my back again, jerked his cock twice over my belly, and came on top of me, a long thick rope over my hip and thigh, another over my tits above the dress. I took two fingers, gathered some semen from my belly, and brought it to my mouth without taking my eyes off Mauricio. I saw his cock jump in his hand at the sight of me. Mauricio handed Damián a towel without saying a word. Then he settled himself between my legs, kissed me long, with his mouth still tasting of the other man, and slid back in. He fucked me slowly at first, looking into my eyes, and then faster, gripping my neck without squeezing, staking his claim. When he was close, he pulled out, knelt over my face, and put his cock in my mouth. He came inside my mouth with two thrusts. I swallowed everything, every last drop. It was a way of telling him he was still mine. I think he understood.

***

We left the club at four thirty in the morning. Damián said goodbye with a hug for both of us, no numbers, no promises. Mauricio drove in silence for the first few minutes. Then he reached out and laid his hand on my thigh, the way he used to when we were dating and still didn’t dare say I love you to each other.

At home he took me to bed and fucked me differently, more possessively, as if he needed to claim something. He spread my legs until he almost split me open, shoved it in all the way, and stayed still for a moment, looking at me, his cock buried completely inside my cunt still stretched from the other man. Then he started driving into me hard, grabbing my tits, biting my neck, fucking me as if he wanted to erase the shape of the other man from my cunt and leave his own on top of it. I came two more times with him before he came inside me, filling me, marking me. When he was done, he stayed on top of me without pulling out, breathing into my neck, and asked me in my ear why I hadn’t given Damián what he’d asked me for from behind. I told him the truth: that I’d remembered the pain, that my body had closed up, that I hadn’t even decided it. That it had slipped away from me.

—Maybe next time I will —I told him, not knowing whether it was true.

I fell asleep with his hand on my back and his semen still running between my thighs. Even today, when I bring my mind back to that night, I still don’t know whether I was brave or whether I was weak. But I do know that that dawn something shifted between us. And that, however hard it is for me to say, is also the truth.