My Revenge Became the Desire I Never Had

I closed the door to the adjoining room behind me. Sofía was already emptying the bag onto the narrow bed: the harness, the dildos, the lube, two folded towels. On the nightstand there was an open laptop, and on the screen you could see the living room from the exact angle of the camera Marcos had hidden that afternoon.

Sofía turned to me with that new intensity that had grown in her over the last few weeks. It turned me on. It scared me a little too.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yes,” I lied. I wasn’t okay. I was terrified, furious, and horny all at once. “And you?”

“Me too.”

She came closer and kissed me slowly. This kiss was different from the ones in the car, from the ones in the hotels in the middle of the afternoon. This one was real.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” Sofía said, stroking my cheek. “If you want to stop, we stop. Okay?”

I nodded. I trusted her. Marcos too. But I didn’t want to stop. I’d spent eighteen years feeling trapped in a marriage that was suffocating me, and for the first time I was certain I could break it with my own hands.

“Take your clothes off,” Sofía said. “I need to see you.”

I took off my clothes. She did too. We stood there, both naked, in that tiny room, looking at each other. Sofía was thin, wiry, with very short white hair and breasts that sagged a little with age. I was the opposite: wide hips, belly, full thighs. Before, I’d been ashamed. Now, with her looking at me like that, I felt less alone inside my own body.

She chose a medium-sized dildo and set it beside the harness, without putting it on yet. We sat on the bed, shoulder to shoulder, facing the screen. In the living room, Marcos waited sitting on the edge of the big mattress, with that expression of someone who thinks too much. I’d liked him from the start: he didn’t judge, didn’t ask stupid questions, he just listened.

“How much longer?” I asked.

“Ten minutes,” he said, checking his phone.

Ten minutes until Rubén arrived. Ten minutes until everything changed.

Why am I doing this? I already knew the answer. It was for me. To take back something that had been stolen from me too long ago. To be the one who decided, who was in charge, who had control for once in my life.

The doorbell rang. On the screen I saw Marcos stand up and leave the frame. Muffled voices in the entryway. Sofía grabbed my hand.

“Breathe,” she whispered.

I breathed.

Rubén came into view. Nervous, uncomfortable, just like when he came home late with a thousand excuses. Marcos went over to him and said something in his ear. I saw my husband swallow. And then he started taking his clothes off.

Something twisted in my chest. Jealousy, rage, disgust, all mixed together. It was him, there, obeying another man. Everything I’d suspected for years, confirmed in front of my eyes. But then Sofía started stroking my back, slow circles, and the rage didn’t disappear: it got smaller, farther away.

And I got wet. It made no sense. I was watching my husband kneel down to suck another man off and my body was responding. Marcos grabbed him by the hair, guided him, dominated him. Rubén gagged and kept going.

“What are you feeling?” Sofía asked me in my ear.

“I don’t know,” I said, and it was true. “I should be pissed off.”

“Are you?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know.”

She turned my face and kissed me, her tongue sliding into my mouth, claiming me. I let myself go. It was easier than thinking. When we looked back at the screen, Marcos had put Rubén on all fours and was slapping his ass with an open hand. Once, twice, three times. His ass went red. And his cock, hard.

He likes it.

Sofía slipped two fingers into me without preamble, finding me soaked through.

“He’s going to fuck him,” she murmured. “You’re going to watch your husband get fucked.”

On the screen Marcos spat on his hand, rubbed it on him, made him wait. I saw Rubén’s mouth move, begging. And Marcos pushed in. Sofía slid a third finger into me at the same time and a moan escaped me.

“You like it,” she said. It wasn’t a question. “You like seeing him like this.”

“Yes,” I admitted.

I came watching the screen, biting Sofía’s shoulder so I wouldn’t scream, while she stretched out the orgasm with her fingers until I was shaking. When I was done she hugged me, kissed my hair, my forehead.

“Good girl,” she whispered.

Then she stood up, grabbed the harness and, instead of putting it on herself, offered it to me. She adjusted the straps to my hips, threaded in the dildo, smeared it with lube until it shone. I felt the weight hanging from my body, strange, unnatural. I looked down.

This is insane.

But I was still wet and my nipples had gone hard.

“Your turn,” Sofía said, and kissed me one last time, possessive. “You’re the one who’s going to fuck him.”

We went out barefoot into the hallway. In the living room, Rubén was still on all fours, sucking Marcos’s cock again, his reddened, exposed ass toward the door, undefended. Marcos lifted his free hand. The signal. Now.

I walked across the floorboards silently, the dildo swinging with every step, reminding me it was there. I positioned myself behind him, exactly where Marcos had been minutes earlier. Sofía put a hand on my shoulder. Support. Marcos held my gaze and nodded. He’s yours.

I guided the tip to his entrance. My heart was beating so hard I thought I’d hear it. Now. Do it.

I pushed. Hard, without warning, without gentleness. All the way in with a single thrust. The harness dug into my pelvis and gave me the resistance of his body giving way.

Rubén went rigid. He tried to let go of Marcos’s cock, turn his head, but Marcos grabbed him by the hair harder.

“No,” he ordered. “Keep going.”

I pulled almost all the way out and slammed back in. The harness jolted against my clit and I moaned. I started fucking him mercilessly, deep thrusts, each penetration driving him forward, forcing him to take more and more. It was liberating. It was like taking back something they’d taken from me.

I lifted my hand and slapped one ass cheek. The crack echoed through the apartment.

Eighteen years feeling like I wasn’t enough. Eighteen years of you telling me I was ugly, that I was disgusting, using me and then turning over to sleep.

Another slap. And another. But with every blow the rage thinned out a little more, transformed into something else. Sofía pressed herself against my back, her breasts against my skin, her hands rising to mine, pinching my nipples. I turned my head and we kissed hungrily while I kept thrusting.

“Do you like it, Rubén?” I whispered in his ear, with a voice so calm I didn’t recognize it.

He moaned without answering.

“I’m asking you. Do you like having your ass fucked?”

“Yes,” he gasped at last, broken. “Yes, fuck.”

I smiled. Cold, triumphant. I’m going to forgive him someday. Maybe. But he’s going to have to earn it. He’s going to have to change as much as I’m changing right now.

“Now you’re going to eat it again,” I said. “And you’re not going to talk. You’re just going to let me fuck you. Understood?”

“Yes… yes, Nuria.”

He’d never called me that during sex. Never had to obey me. I sped up, syncing myself with Marcos, until I felt Rubén tense all over and cum onto the sheets without anyone touching his cock, his strangled cry pressed against Marcos’s sex. I kept him impaled until the last spasm and then pulled out slowly.

I stepped back, breathing hard, looking at his broken body, the red marks, the semen beneath him.

I did it. I took what I wanted. And the rage no longer burns inside me.

***

Marcos let go of my hair.

“Now you can look,” he said.

I pulled his cock out of my mouth slowly, chin shining, panting. I didn’t understand what the fuck was happening. Someone was fucking me, someone who wasn’t Marcos, and I didn’t know who. I turned my head back.

And I saw her.

Nuria. My wife. Naked, with a black harness on her hips, a dildo buried to the hilt in my ass, her breasts swinging with every thrust. And another woman pressed against her, short white hair, kissing her, sucking her nipples while Nuria fucked me.

The world stopped. My brain couldn’t process it. Nuria couldn’t be there. Nuria couldn’t be the one who…

“Nu… Nuria?” I whispered, disbelieving.

She didn’t look at me. She kept fucking me, steady, brutal, as if I didn’t exist, as if I were nothing but a hole to use.

Fuck. It’s Nuria. Her body. Her strength. That look I’d never seen on her before.

Why do I like this? I shouldn’t. It should disgust me. And it’s getting me harder than ever.

I tried to sit up, but she buried the dildo deeper and a moan escaped my throat. Pain, pleasure, total humiliation.

I’ve been pretending my whole life. Pretending I was in charge, that I had control. And here, with another man’s cock in my mouth and her fucking me, here I’m the real me.

My eyes drifted to the screen on the wall. The parking lot of the industrial estate. The bathroom. Me on my knees. Marcos. The two of us coming. Images on a loop.

“No,” I whispered. “No, fuck, no…”

But my cock said something else. It was hard, dripping. My body was betraying me. I was enjoying my wife fucking me after catching me. Being humiliated, exposed, used.

Nuria leaned over my ear.

“Do you want me to stop?” she asked, almost kindly.

Yes. I want to wake up from this nightmare. But my mouth said something else.

“No. Don’t stop. Please.”

She slapped one ass cheek hard. The pain exploded over already reddened skin and my cock leaked more.

“You’re going to eat it again,” she ordered in a cold voice. “And you’re not going to make a sound. Understood?”

“Yes… yes, Nuria.”

It had never been her who was in charge. Everything has changed. I turned my head toward Marcos, opened my mouth and let him in. The rhythm synchronized: every thrust from my wife drove me forward, forcing me to take him deeper. I had no control. None. And I was loving it.

This is me. Submissive. An object. Hers.

I came like never before, with nobody touching my cock, emptying myself onto the sheets while she kept me impaled to the hilt. The most intense orgasm of my life. When it was over I collapsed onto my elbows, trembling.

Marcos pulled away.

“Sit there and watch,” he said. “Don’t move.”

I obeyed. I dragged myself back until my spine hit the wall, my ass sore, the hole open, my cock still half hard. I looked at the three of them. I want Nuria to look at me. But I don’t exist for her anymore. And it hurts. Fuck, how it hurts.

Nuria pulled the dildo from the harness, wiped it with a towel, and threaded it back in. The other woman—Sofía, I realized—lay on her back, legs open. Nuria positioned herself between her thighs and pushed in.

She’s fucking her. And she never moved like that when she fucked me. Never with that fire.

My cock started hardening again. Impossible, I’d just come. But there it was. I watched them kiss violently, their breasts colliding, the smell of sex filling the room.

She’s beautiful. How did I not see it before? Because now she doesn’t need me. Because now she’s in charge and I’m nothing.

Marcos knelt beside them and offered them his cock. The two of them took turns, licking it together, their tongues meeting around it. Nuria moaned while fucking and sucking at the same time, the pleasure visible in every movement.

I could only watch, with my cock hard, my ass wrecked, wanting to belong to all of it somehow and knowing it was no longer my decision. That maybe I had never really decided anything at all.

Sofía came arching. Nuria pulled out the dildo, broke away, and finally turned toward me, her eyes locked on mine, cold.

“I want Marcos to fuck me,” she said. “And you’re going to watch. But not passively: Sofía is going to fuck you meanwhile. You’re going to keep your attention on me. Understood?”

“Yes, Nuria.”

“Get on all fours. Here. Facing the bed.”

I obeyed. Sofía strapped the harness to her hips and positioned herself behind me. Nuria lay back a meter and a half away, legs open, sex shining. Marcos slipped between her thighs.

“Watch them,” Sofía ordered in a soft voice. “Don’t look away.”

Marcos pushed in. At the same time, Sofía penetrated me. I moaned. Nuria moaned. Both of us getting fucked at once, but I could only look at her.

Marcos started slow, deep, and Nuria threw her head back. They kissed with tongue, with a desperation she’d never had with me. Sofía sped up behind me, syncing herself, every thrust driving me closer to the bed, so close I could see the sweat on my wife’s skin.

Nuria broke the kiss and looked straight at me.

“See how he’s fucking me, Rubén?” she gasped. “Do you like seeing me like this?”

“Yes,” I admitted, broken. “I like it.”

She smiled, victorious, and let herself go. Marcos was fucking her mercilessly now, brutally. My cock dripped onto the sheets without anyone touching it. This turned me on: seeing her get fucked while I was getting fucked too, being forced to watch my own irrelevance.

“Come inside,” she begged him, digging her nails into him. “I want to feel it.”

Marcos growled and emptied himself inside my wife. I saw everything, every spasm. When he pulled out, Nuria’s sex was left open, soaked, semen beginning to run out.

“Come here,” she ordered. “Clean me. With your mouth. Now.”

I crawled forward, Sofía following me with the dildo still inside her. Nuria’s sex was inches from my face. I can’t. I can’t do this. But my cock was dripping. Yes, I can.

I stuck out my tongue and licked. The taste hit me, salty and thick. I cleaned my wife after another man had fucked her, her hand on my head pushing me deeper.

“Deeper,” she murmured. “Lick well.”

Sofía started thrusting again, each blow driving my face into her, my nose against her clit, barely able to breathe. Nuria grabbed my head with both hands, her thighs clamping around me.

“You’re going to make me cum again,” she moaned.

And she came against my mouth, screaming, while Sofía gave me the most brutal, full-depth thrust yet. And I did too, with nobody touching my cock, only her sex on my face and the dildo wrecking me, emptying myself onto the sheets a second time.

When it was over, I fell sideways, panting, my face soaked, the taste still in my mouth, my whole body shaking.

Completely broken. Completely satisfied. And, for the first time in eighteen years, with no lies left to carry.