I Gave My Wife the Key and She Chose Someone Else

At last it was happening. After so many nights imagining it in a whisper, after so many dark conversations that ended in promises, the scene was unfolding before me and I could hardly believe it. Let me set the scene for you, because without the context nothing makes sense. I’m sitting at some random table, on the terrace of some random hotel, in a city I’d rather not name. I’m dressed as always: checked shirt, jeans, brown boots. Nothing that draws attention. The only different thing, the only thing that really matters, is the metal cage imprisoning me between my legs, the one Marina and I have been playing with for months.

The best thing about wearing it is the friction. The friction of fabric against skin, the scrape of the metal edge every time I shift in the chair. When I open and close my legs, a dull current runs through me and reminds me that I’m not the one in charge. Only someone who’s worn one understands it. It’s a sweet discomfort, a constant reminder that tonight the pleasure won’t be mine, but the pleasure of watching.

Despite all the people around us — noisy groups, other couples, each minding their own business — I don’t miss a detail of what’s in front of me. And what’s in front of me is my wife, Marina, slowly drinking from her glass while she talks to our guest. A guy who could be anyone, straight out of any dating site. Two things matter to me that night, both because they’re firsts. First: the guy, though he’s ten years younger than us, has experience with this kind of encounter and it shows. Second: Marina likes him. I can see it in the way she looks at him, in the way she laughs, in the way she turns the glass between her fingers without needing to drink.

Each of us knows our role from the start. The guy seduces my wife. My wife lets herself be seduced and, every so often, turns her head toward me looking for my approval. And I, silent, turned on, watch the story move toward where I’ve been wanting it to go for weeks.

—So you’ve been into these games for long? —the guy asks.

—Well… —Marina looks up, thoughtful—. This was always my husband’s fantasy, but we’ve done everything in the scene. With being a hotwife, with being a cuckold —she pronounces the word slowly, turning her eyes toward me, teasing me—, we’ve had a few experiences. He loves it and I… I go with the flow.

She smiles at the guy and I see the kid fall helplessly under her spell.

—Well, he’s a lucky man, Marina —he replies—, because you’re a very, very attractive woman.

We’ve only had a couple of drinks. The closeness between them hasn’t taken long to appear. She wants him, he wants her, and I want to watch. Marina, complete mistress of the situation, gives the guy a quick kiss right under my nose and then turns to me.

—Pay the bill, caged one. I think you’re in for a lucky night.

I ask for the check, pay, and we get up. The guy is just passing through town and is staying in the same hotel whose bar served us the drinks. In the elevator, as if I didn’t exist, they kiss with a hunger they don’t bother hiding: his desire for novelty, hers for youth regained. Even so, Marina keeps looking for me between kisses, making sure I don’t miss a thing.

Once in the room, I take my place. An armchair set right in front of the bed, the box from which I’ll watch my horns grow. It isn’t the first time I’ve seen my wife with another man, and believe me, she’s worth seeing. But it is the first time I do it with the cage on, with no chance whatsoever of relieving myself. And that changes everything.

Marina stands in front of the bed, with her back to the guy. He kisses her neck while his hands run over her dress, tracing the outline of her breasts through the fabric. She looks at me. Our eyes meet and hers are pure desire. The pressure under the metal becomes almost unbearable. I swallow. The dress slips from her shoulders, her breasts are bared and the guy cups them with both hands, eager. Marina closes her eyes for a moment, opens them again, never stops looking at me.

She turns, they kiss, and he moves down to bite her nipples, the ones I’ve had in my mouth so many times and that tonight belong to someone else. She doesn’t take long to take charge. She pushes the guy onto the bed, pulls down his trousers while he lets her do it, and out comes his erection, hard, standing at attention. Marina holds it in her hand and, of course, looks at me. She looks at me and smiles as she starts moving her hand up and down, slowly, drawing a first muffled groan from the guy.

And without taking her eyes off me, she takes him into her mouth. She devours him the way only she knows how. I imagine everything from the sound escaping the guy’s throat, from the way he lifts his head off the pillow so he doesn’t miss the sight of my wife swallowing him over and over. The cage tightens to the limit.

Then she pulls her mouth away just a few inches, without letting him go, and spits on the tip before spreading the saliva all along the length with the palm of her hand. She looks at me again.

—He’s bigger than yours, caged one —she says—. I’m going to enjoy this.

She knows those words drive me wild. The comparison doesn’t hurt me; on the contrary, it gets me insanely hard. I smile at her and don’t answer, because if I open my mouth I think my heart will come out through it.

—Damn… what a mouth you’ve got —the guy murmurs, holding her head, setting the pace.

—You like the way my wife sucks you off, huh? —I dare to say.

—I love it. You’re a lucky man.

It’s the first time one of Marina’s lovers has spoken to me like that, acknowledging my role. And it knocks me flat. I keep watching as she alternates: sometimes she takes him all the way in with her eyes closed, sometimes she pulls back to look at him, sometimes she pulls away completely and pins me with her gaze before plunging back down. She’s a goddess, and tonight she’s another man’s goddess.

The guy pulls her up. They kiss, she kneels between his legs, his hand circling her neck gently.

—I want to fuck you —he whispers in her ear.

Obedient, Marina climbs onto the bed and gets on all fours, turned sideways to me, close enough to touch me. On the way she’s taken off her dress; now she’s completely naked except for the key to my lock, hanging from a chain between her breasts. She never stops looking at me. The guy strips in a hurry and positions himself behind her. Marina rests one hand on my knee and tells me in my ear that she loves it, that she wants to feel him inside her.

He leans in and pushes. He enters her slowly, only the tip at first. Marina moans, opens her mouth, surprised by her own pleasure. I watch everything from my corner, trapped, while the key swings below her face in time with the first thrusts.

—Ah… fuck… it’s so big, caged one —she pants, turning toward me, biting her lip—. I love it.

She pushes her hips back, taking him deeper, and the guy answers with a rough grunt. My cock is about to burst through the metal, and that drives me mad in a way I can’t even explain. Watching her enjoy herself, watching her give in, knowing my own pleasure is delayed, locked away, postponed until she decides.

—Come here —she says suddenly, lifting her head—. Get on the bed. Let me rest my head on your legs.

—Sure… —I swallow—. Whatever you want.

I sit on the edge of the bed. She rests her head on my thighs, very close to the cage, while the guy keeps driving into her from behind, now all the way in. Her moans are deeper now. At some point she turns her face and bites gently over the fabric, right where the metal holds me prisoner, and the sensation runs through my entire body.

—Take off your clothes —she asks me.

I do it while the guy pulls out of her and, at Marina’s request, sits beside me. My wife climbs on top of him. She starts riding him the way only she knows how, moving her hips with a mix of control and surrender. He grabs her breasts, then lets himself fall back. Marina, without stopping moving, brings her face close to mine. Her hand brushes my cage over the top.

—Ah… what a good one he’s got, baby… —she pants—. I love it.

—Enjoy it —I tell her, and kiss her, turned on to the marrow—. Take your pleasure, love.

She keeps moaning a hand’s breadth from my mouth, staring at me, touching the metal as she rides the other man up and down. I stand because I can’t bear stillness anymore. From behind I watch her sink down again and again, an image I’ll never forget. I stroke myself over the cage and feel a thread of fluid sliding from the tip, with no possibility of more.

She straightens up, staying seated with him inside her, and holds out her hand to me. I take it. She moves again, forward and back, squeezing my fingers hard, as if making me part of it through touch. I sit back down beside her without letting go, enjoying the show, until she speeds up and arches her back.

—Ah… fuck… caged one, I’m going to come… what a cock… —and she comes, her hips slowing little by little while the guy digs his fingers into her hips, satisfied.

But it isn’t over. She turns and mounts him again, this time with her back to him, giving the guy her face to one side and me the front. I stand to position myself in front of her, kiss her, hold her by the neck.

—You drive me crazy —I tell her.

She plants her feet and leans back, riding up and down, looking at me with distant eyes. I kneel. My mouth finds her clit and I start licking; when she rises, I lick the base of the guy too, and so on and on, lost in her moans. One hand goes to hold him while I feel my wife’s body slam against my face on every descent. I lick everything, because they’ve got me on the edge of delirium.

—Ah… that’s it, lick away, caged one… so good —Marina pants.

After a good while I pull away, my mouth soaked and the cage damp, not quite sure whether I’ve come a little under the metal or only dreamed it. I go back to the armchair. The guy lays her face down and buries himself in her from behind, taking the pace now, his hand on her nape, his body entering and leaving her without mercy. And I watch, and I lose my mind at how well he fucks and how much my wife enjoys it.

—Ah… fuck… don’t stop… I’m coming again… —she screams, louder than ever.

And she comes, surrendering, looking at me with her eyes wide open. Then he rises onto his knees, lifts her hips and drives into her to the hilt, over and over, until she lets out a scream I’d never heard from her before. Then the guy pulls out, grips himself, and with Marina’s legs still trembling, empties himself in spurts over her belly, over her breasts, soaking her. She looks at me again, smiling, satisfied.

And I remain locked up.

Waiting my turn.

Wanting to see, once everyone has gone, how they’ve left my wife’s body.