The Afternoon I Fulfilled My Deepest Secret Fantasy

On one of his last work trips, my husband brought me back a set of lingerie from a minimalist brand, one of those labels designed for runway-model bodies and not for a woman like me, more into classic lace and more into curves. But I knew perfectly well why he had picked it. It was the dirty thrill of the movies we watched together some nights, with the door closed and the volume low.

He would have liked to buy me one of those sets worn by the women in the videos that turned us both on the most. Of course, they don’t sell those in decent shops. So with that brand, disguised as trend and good taste, he was smuggling me into a fantasy that was only ours. It was his elegant way of saying what he didn’t dare ask out loud.

On the one hand, it annoyed me that he’d brought me such a blatantly sexual gift. On the other, it turned me on. It turned me on precisely because it was out of the ordinary. Other times he’d given me Italian lingerie, beautiful stuff, and I’d felt like a goddess wearing it. This time he was giving me an immersion into something else.

He was telling me, without saying it, that he wanted to see me turned into one of those uninhibited, surrendered women we both got so hot for. He wanted to drag me out of my ordered, serious, decent life and push me down a slide of lust that no one would ever suspect in me. And even less now, as I was approaching fifty.

That was what really turned me on. That after twenty years of marriage, with menopause peeking over the horizon and scaring me a little, my husband was still fantasizing about me like one of those sex goddesses. And that I, far from feeling offended, was delighted to play along.

***

One afternoon, weeks later, I decided to wear it for the first time. I wanted to surprise him to thank him for that gift, and also for another recent day of madness that I’d rather not detail just yet. And what better way than to put on the set and wait for him on my knees in the living room, ready to take him in my mouth before he even said a single word?

I pictured him walking through the door and finding me like that, kneeling on the rug. To top it off, I’d let him finish on the new fabric, in the bra or wherever he wanted. He loved it when I let him come on my clothes. On my face too, of course, but that only happened on very special occasions.

It was starting to get dark. He was sure to text me soon to say he was on his way, and by then I’d already be ready. I went into the bedroom to change. Truthfully, I was careless. The curtains were open, but no one was ever on the other side of the lightwell, so I didn’t even think about it.

I took off my clothes and left them neatly folded where they belonged. I looked at myself in the mirror. I was wearing one of those bras I like and my husband doesn’t, the kind that gathers all your breasts in and doesn’t let anything slip when you bend over. They’re not the sexiest things in the world, of course, but I’m not out on the street looking for trouble. That only happens behind closed doors.

I unclasped it and placed it too, folded, on top of the dresser. When I looked at myself again, I couldn’t help making a face. There was my chest. My tits, as he calls them, because we’re so proper we don’t say any other word. We don’t say certain verbs either, and yet we do it every chance we get, in the morning and in the afternoon whenever we’re on vacation.

For me, too big. For my husband, perfect. A size that mostly gives away that I’ve put on weight since I got married, and right in the middle, that pair of nipples that betray me every time I get nervous. They drive him insane just as much as they embarrass me.

At that moment they were hard. The idea of waiting for him submissively, on my knees, had already got me turned on. I barely brushed them, just enough to check how they were, and a sigh escaped me. It wasn’t the same as when he bites them, but it felt good. They were going to fill out the new set very nicely, I thought, nothing to envy in the women in the ads.

***

I leaned against the dresser, lifted one leg, and slipped off my panties with ease. I like wearing pretty panties even day to day. Black, with a little lace. I noticed I’d soaked them while I was fooling around in front of the mirror. I blushed, but even so I checked with one finger that, indeed, I was getting hot.

I swallowed and kept touching myself, very slowly. I brought my finger to my mouth almost without thinking. It tasted like desire. I pressed a little and it slipped in easily between my wet lips. I stopped myself, laughed inwardly at my own brazenness, and picked up the panties to set them with the rest.

As I passed the window on my way to the last drawer, I thought I saw a light on across the way. I jumped: I was completely naked and in full view. They could have seen me. And yet, that had always been one of our favorite practices in hotels. Doing it by the glass, flirting with the risk that someone might be looking from the building opposite.

But one thing was an anonymous hotel and quite another my own house, where I have a first name and surname and no interest in anyone knowing what games I play behind closed doors. I switched off the light in a leap, with a nimbleness I didn’t know I had, and everything went black. Nothing inside, nothing outside.

I edged up to the glass, pressed against the wall, hidden, and checked that the light had been a trick of my imagination. The entire courtyard was dark. For an instant I had fantasized that Esteban, our neighbor, that mature man with the interesting face whom I greet in the elevator, was watching me from his terrace. Not as the proper gentleman he is, but as a filthy voyeur. I frightened myself and, at the same time, liked it.

***

More relaxed, I switched the light on again without bothering to draw the curtains and knelt to open the bottom drawer. That’s where I keep my best sets. I stroked the soft silks of some, tickled myself with the lace of my favorite, rubbed my nipples — hard as stones — against those fabrics. The new one was at the back, perfectly folded.

I pulled the drawer all the way out and set it on the bed, unintentionally showing my bare ass to the window. Behind the drawer, in the secret compartment, were my treasures. The ones I would never want our housekeeper to find: my favorite vibrator, a glass dildo, a costume I’m embarrassed to name, and beside them my biggest toy, the one my husband gave me so he could get turned on watching me use it.

I took out the set and then that toy too. I held it up for a moment before my eyes and temptation rushed over me. Truthfully, I didn’t need to think about it for long. I moistened the suction cup with saliva and stuck it to the dresser, at face height, kneeling on the bedroom floor.

I closed my eyes. I imagined myself in front of Adriano. Adriano is someone I was due to see the following month, a meeting I’d been savoring in my head for weeks. I don’t consider myself an adulteress; I consider myself a horny woman who can’t stop fantasizing about games she’d never dare tell anyone about. And in that fantasy, my husband was there too, watching, as so often.

I started licking. Slowly, running my tongue over it, covering it in saliva while with my other hand I stroked between my legs, getting wetter and wetter. I was masturbating as I imagined myself surrendered to Adriano, under my husband’s attentive gaze. I was losing my mind, and I loved losing it.

I needed more. I let go of the toy, pretending I was ordering my husband to keep watching, and rummaged in the hiding place until I found the small vibrator. I switched it on. Charged, thank God: if it had been dead it would have killed the moment completely. I returned to my spot, smiled at my imaginary lover, and placed the vibrator right where I needed it.

That soft vibration ran through me like an electric shock. I closed my eyes again and kept going. I worked myself harder and harder, though it was difficult; it didn’t quite fit in my mouth. For a moment I felt like one of those actresses in the videos my husband and I watched. The game took effect at once, and I felt the orgasm drawing near.

***

Just when I was about to tip over the edge, the phone rang. A message from my husband: he was delayed, to wait for him in bed, he’d be home late. So much for the kneeling surprise. And my heat? I wasn’t about to leave it half-finished. I pushed the drawer away from the bed, lay naked on the bedspread, and little by little I started using the big toy.

I’d never done it alone. It had always been something for the two of us, even if sometimes I lied to him and said I used it when he was traveling. What really drove me wild was feeling it inside while a mouth worked above. That was what made me explode.

—Come on, Adriano, make me yours —I whispered, and I realized myself how corny it sounded—. Take me already.

I pushed, and my body opened with a ease that surprised me, as if it had been waiting for hours. With one hand I guided the toy; with the other I stroked my clit very softly. In my head, Adriano was a dream lover carrying me far away, and my husband a surrendered spectator. And I came.

It was savage. A huge orgasm, much bigger than I usually manage on my own. And, above all, it left me wanting more. I got on all fours, very low, just like when I service my husband. I placed the toy on the bed, firm, as Adriano would be at my service, and started lowering myself slowly onto it.

It had to have been quite a sight: on all fours, completely exposed toward the window, with absolutely no shame. I picked up the vibrator and brought it back to me. Impaled on my imaginary lover and with every nerve exposed, it was child’s play to pretend that it was my husband’s mouth devouring me while I gave myself to the other man. I came again. And again. My head couldn’t keep up with so much stimulation.

I saw the new set beside me and another fantasy seized me. I let go of the vibrator and stuffed my panties into my mouth as a gag. I wanted something rough. I freed myself from the toy, lifted my legs as high as I could, rested my shoulders on the mattress, and placed it against me again.

—I’m going to make you mine, Lucía. You’re mine —I heard Adriano’s voice giving me exactly what I would never dare ask my husband for. I wanted something different, something rough.

I shoved hard. It wasn’t soft, it wasn’t loving. It was pure instinct. The panty in my mouth muffled the cries my body was begging to let out. I kept going and going, without mercy, taking it all for the first time, until I broke, until I collapsed exhausted into another massive orgasm.

***

I collapsed onto the bed. I pulled the panty out of my mouth so I could breathe and set the toy aside. I rolled over, took a breath, and smiled. I had worn the new set for the first time. What a debut. I’d have to tell my husband; he’d go crazy. My smile widened as I imagined him on his knees, masturbating for me like he loves to do so much.

I felt wonderful, sprawled on my own bed, naked, still trembling, in the middle of that soft, warm evening. I turned my head toward the window, languid, satisfied.

And I screamed.

The light on the terrace opposite had just switched on. There was Esteban, my neighbor, staring straight at me with one hand busy. I’d had an audience all afternoon. And by turning on that light, he was telling me he wanted me to know it.