I Cheated on My Wife with the Brazilian Girl from the Party

My name is Carolina, I’m twenty-eight years old, and I live in Rosario. I’ve been married for a little over two years to Romina, and what I’m going to tell you is completely true. It’s not something I can say out loud in front of just anyone, but I need to get it out of me, even if it’s only by writing it down.

I’m a married woman who likes adventures. Secret sex, forbidden things, the risk of it all being discovered. And yes, I like women other than my wife. I don’t have some elegant explanation for it. It just happens to me: I see someone who turns me on and something inside me lights up that I don’t know how to switch off.

I’m not the kind of woman who goes out hunting. I don’t go around offering myself up or making plans to take someone to bed. But sometimes life puts someone right in front of me and the spark flies, and when it does there’s no way to pretend I didn’t feel it.

I met Romina at university. We shared some classes and I was friends with one of her classmates. One Friday we all went out together to a club downtown. We’d had a good vibe from the first day: we talked easily, laughed at the same things, there was a comfortable current between us. That night, though, she left early, around three in the morning, because the next day she had to help her father at the family business.

I stayed. I kept dancing, drinking, letting the music carry me away. And I ended up in bed with a girl I met that same night. Her name was Lúcia, she was Brazilian, from São Paulo, and the sex with her was out of this world. Intense, shameless, without asking permission. Just how I like it.

On Monday, when I got back to the university, Romina and I started talking more often.

—How did it go after I left? —she asked me, curious.

—Good, chilled out —I told her, without going into details.

We kept talking and things flowed naturally. A few days later she invited me for a drink at a small bar near the riverfront, and from there we ended up at my apartment. That night was different from the one with Lúcia: it was slow, sweet, full of soft kisses and hands taking their time. It wasn’t just desire. It was tenderness. And from that moment on, we were inseparable.

I fell completely in love with her. Truly. Before I go on, let me tell you a little about what we’re like.

I’m short, I’m five foot two. Dark-skinned, with long, straight black hair down to my shoulders. I’ve got generous breasts, a defined waist, and a round ass that always turned heads. I go to the gym four or five times a week, so I’ve got firm legs. I love dressing provocatively, feeling the way people look at me when I walk into a place.

Romina is beautiful in a different way. Also short, five foot three, very fair-skinned and with short blond hair that reaches her neck. She has green eyes, medium breasts, a tiny waist. We work out together almost always; it’s part of what brings us together, that routine of looking after each other.

After a while as girlfriends, we decided to move in together to my apartment. I wanted this to work more than anything else, because I truly loved her. But four months into living together, I screwed up. And I screwed up badly.

***

It was at a country house a friend had rented to celebrate her birthday. There were a lot of people, almost all women, loud music, and drinks being poured nonstop. Romina couldn’t come with me: she was away on a work trip and wouldn’t make it back that night. So I went alone, with the excuse that I’d stay a little while and head home early.

I was dancing in a circle of friends, laughing, feeling free, when all of a sudden I saw her coming toward me through the colored lights. Dark-skinned, tall, with a smile I recognized instantly. It was Lúcia. The Brazilian girl. I couldn’t believe it.

She came over without hesitation, held out her hand, and pulled me onto the dance floor. Between the music, the alcohol, and the smoke, we ended up dancing pressed against each other for a long while, getting closer and closer. I started getting turned on without being able to stop myself. She whispered in my ear and looked at me in a way that left me breathless, that look that says everything without saying a word.

We had our left hands intertwined. With her other hand, she started stroking my thigh, slowly moving up and down, drawing circles over the fabric of my dress. I knew that couldn’t happen. I asked her to stop, to not keep going, that those touches were making me want her way too much.

The flesh is weak, I thought, and mine that night was screaming for something it shouldn’t have.

She took my hand firmly and guided me through the crowd toward one of the empty rooms at the back. At that moment I wasn’t thinking about Romina, or guilt, or what I’d feel afterward. I was only thinking about having that woman on top of me again.

We went in and she shut the door with her foot. We didn’t even last two seconds: we threw ourselves into kissing like we’d been holding back for years. Her lips were soft and demanding at the same time, and her tongue played with mine while her hands were already looking for the zipper of my dress.

We tore at each other’s clothes, leaving everything on the floor, until we were both in our underwear. We fell onto the bed with her on top of me, never once breaking the kiss. I felt her weight, her heat, the brush of her skin against mine, and all of it lit me up like a fuse.

Her hands unhooked my bra and pulled it away. Then she slowly stroked my breasts, playing with the tips of her fingers until my nipples went hard, and I arched my back looking for more. Both of us were breathing softly, holding back so no one would hear us from the other side of the door.

Her hand slid down my stomach, hooked the elastic of my thong, and pulled it down my legs. She opened my thighs carefully and brushed one finger, just barely, over my wet lips. That single touch made me moan against her shoulder. I was soaked, ready, desperate for her.

Then she settled herself, crossed one leg over mine, and pressed her sex to mine. She started to move, to grind against me, slowly at first and then harder, and I matched her rhythm with my hips.

—Like that, keep going, don’t stop —I begged in a broken whisper.

—You’re insatiable, Caro —she said in my ear, not stopping her movement against me.

—Don’t stop, please, don’t stop —I kept repeating as our hips moved faster and faster.

The friction was exact, perfect, and I felt my whole body tightening like a string about to snap. I bit my lip not to scream, but the moans escaped anyway, muffled against her neck.

—I can’t take it anymore —I told her—. I’m going to come.

—Come on, do it, finish me off —she answered, pressing even harder against me.

And I came. I came shaking, clinging to her hips, with an orgasm that ran through me from head to toe and left me weak. She kept moving a little longer, until she came too, biting my shoulder so she wouldn’t make a sound.

That night wasn’t just once. We did it three more times in that borrowed room. Twice scissoring, feeling how our bodies fit together, and once in an endless sixty-nine where neither of us wanted to be the first to stop. We enjoyed it to the fullest, without guilt, in that little pause where the outside world didn’t exist.

***

Then we got dressed, fixed our hair in front of a warped mirror, and went downstairs with smiles we couldn’t hide. A couple of girls saw us coming out of the room together and I caught their knowing looks. We’re fucked, I thought, though inside I was still floating.

I said goodbye to Lúcia with one last long kiss in the hallway, knowing I’d probably never see her again, and left.

I got home around six in the morning. I still smelled like sex and Lúcia’s perfume was soaked into every part of my body. And to my surprise, when I opened the apartment door, the kitchen lights were on. Romina had come back early.

—How was your night, my love? —she asked, hugging me as soon as she saw me walk in.

—Very good —I told her, hugging her back with a mix of relief and panic—. It was a beautiful night.

She smiled and kissed me hungrily, not suspecting a thing. I felt my heart pounding in my throat. I thought the smell would give me away, that she’d read the guilt on my face, but she only looked at me with those green eyes full of love.

She took me by the hand to the bed and started undressing me. That morning she made love to me more intensely than usual, as if she’d truly missed me during her trip. And while we moved together, I turned my head and saw my reflection in the wardrobe mirror.

My ass was still a little red from Lúcia’s spankings.

My heart flipped. I started thinking fast about how I was going to explain that if she noticed. To distract her, I began kissing her neck desperately, whispered for her to squeeze me hard, to mark me too, mixing the marks so nothing would make sense.

—You’re wearing such a nice perfume —she said suddenly, burying her nose in my neck.

My mind worked fast.

—You like it? You smell amazing too, my love —I answered, returning the compliment to cover up mine.

Maybe it was just my imagination, maybe she really suspected something and chose not to ask. But that night she enjoyed it like never before, and so did I, my heart racing because I’d come so close to being caught.

That was the first time. It wasn’t the last. But that night I understood something about myself that I still don’t know whether it scares me or turns me on: I love Romina with all my soul, and even so I can’t put out the fire that lights up inside me when another woman looks at me the way Lúcia did.

To be continued.