I Watched Another Woman Seduce My Wife That Night

Marisol and I had been married for twelve years. We desired each other often, laughed at the same things, and for a long time that seemed enough. But desire has a short memory, and little by little ours began to cool without either of us saying it out loud.

We reached the point where sex was almost mechanical. We did it because it was what you did, not because we were burning to do it. And Marisol was still a beautiful woman at forty-three: firm body, a swimmer’s back, a smile that still undid me. We both went to the gym four times a week, so it wasn’t a matter of tired skin. It was routine, that silent enemy that slips into bed and turns off the light.

We were at that crossroads all couples reach. The moment when you have to decide whether to resign yourself or dare to change course. One night, after a couple of glasses of wine, we talked about it with a frankness we hadn’t had in a long time.

—What if we play at not knowing each other? —she said, looking at me over the rim of her glass.

—What do you mean?

—Go out separately, meet in a bar, and pretend we’re two strangers. That we have to win each other over again.

The idea turned me on immediately. We agreed on a downtown bar, a date, and nothing else. Neither of us would know what the other was wearing. We would have to recognize each other in the crowd and seduce each other as if we were strangers.

***

That first night, Marisol arrived early and I was late on purpose. When I walked in, I saw her at the bar in a black dress I didn’t know, with another woman chatting beside her. Far from annoying me, it stoked my desire. We ended up getting so into the role that for a moment I felt real jealousy, as if she truly were a stranger flirting with my wife. We ended up in the car, in a dark corner of the parking lot, devouring each other with a hunger I hadn’t felt in years.

From there, something unlatched. Our encounters, once silent, filled with moans. Marisol started liking being heard, liking the neighbors knowing. The game had given us back something we had thought lost.

But there was one detail I hadn’t expected. Days later, while we were making love, Marisol confessed in my ear that the woman from the bar, a dark-haired woman with an easy laugh named Renata, had genuinely attracted her. Not just the game: her, her mouth, her hands.

—The thought of you with her turns me on —I said without thinking, and I felt her breathing quicken.

Marisol moved her hips faster, panting against my neck, and came with an intensity I hadn’t seen since the first months. Afterward, wrapped together in the dark, we talked about it calmly. And I understood that I wanted to see it too. That the idea of watching my wife give herself to another woman obsessed me more than I was willing to admit.

***

We agreed to go back to the same bar the following Friday. This time Renata knew she would be there. We left home separately, without telling each other what we were wearing, faithful to the rules of the game.

I arrived twenty minutes late. Marisol was already seated at the bar, and for a second I stood still in the doorway just to look at her. She wore a fitted gray skirt, flesh-colored stockings, and a white shirt opened just enough. She looked like an executive who had slipped out of the office for a drink. Hair pinned up, thin-framed glasses, lips painted a deep red that gave her an air both intellectual and wild. She was gorgeous, and half the bar knew it.

Beside her, Renata. Tight green dress, generous neckline, curves that showed even in the dim light. She crossed her legs toward Marisol and smiled at her with a confidence that took my breath away.

I sat at the far end of the bar, near the door, where there was little light and a lot of people. From there I could watch them without Renata recognizing me. The idea of sharing my wife gave me a knot of jealousy and, at the same time, a filthy thrill that made me wet without anyone touching me.

Renata placed a hand on Marisol’s waist and she didn’t pull it away. She leaned in to whisper something in her ear, and my wife laughed and kept talking as if they were old friends. Meanwhile, that hand had slid down to the curve of her hip, shameless, without asking permission.

Marisol slowly ran her tongue over the fingertips Renata brought to her mouth. Then she turned her head and searched for me in the crowd, as if asking permission. I gave her the slightest gesture, almost imperceptible. Go ahead.

That was all she needed. Marisol brought her face close to Renata’s, their noses touching in a tender brush, and the dark-haired woman’s hand was already moving without disguise inside the curve of her thighs. I felt like my heart was going to burst out of my chest.

—Looks like that older woman likes her —the waitress said, setting down a beer I didn’t even remember ordering.

—She’s very attractive —I replied, trying to sound indifferent.

—What a ass she’s got. Tonight the one in the green dress is taking her home, mark my words. —She let out a conspiratorial laugh and walked away.

I stood there stunned, the beer trembling a little in my hand, while I watched them leave the bar and head for the dance floor.

***

The music was upbeat at first, but soon they put on a ballad. Renata took advantage of it to grab Marisol by the waist and pull her close. They danced pressed tightly together, like two lovers who had been together for years. Renata’s hands slid down to my wife’s ass and stayed there, squeezing, while their breasts brushed with every movement.

Marisol looped her arms around Renata’s neck and they held each other’s gaze, the kind of look that leaves no way back. I drank in small sips, unable to tear my eyes away. I didn’t want them to stop. I wanted to see how far they could go.

Renata began kissing her neck, slowly, letting my wife tip her head back. One of her hands left the dance and slipped under the gray skirt. I let out a moan that the music mercifully covered. She kept pressing her lips to Marisol’s over and over until Marisol opened her mouth and let their tongues meet. They kissed deeply, without hurry, their hips moving against each other in the middle of the dance floor.

The two of them clearly needed more. A while later they separated, gathered their things, and left the bar. Our house was nearby, and I knew that was where they were headed, in Renata’s red car from the other night.

***

I waited a few minutes, flagged down a taxi, and followed them. When I arrived, I recognized the red car parked in front of the door. I went in slowly, without turning on any lights, and from the foyer I could already hear the moans coming from the bedroom.

I approached with my heart pounding against my ribs. The door was half-open. Through the crack I saw Renata mounted on Marisol, grinding against her, both of them naked and drenched in sweat. I began stroking myself over my clothes without even realizing it.

—You’re so wet —Renata panted—. I want you so bad.

Marisol opened her legs wider so their sex could rub together without barriers, and a long moan rose from her chest. Renata quickened the rocking of her hips and my wife let out a cry of pleasure that filled the room. I already had my hand inside my underwear, biting my lip so I wouldn’t give myself away.

—That’s it, moan for me —Renata said—. Don’t hold back.

They lay on their sides, face to face, and brought their fingers to their mouths to wet them. Then they penetrated each other at the same time, going in and out with a synchronicity that looked practiced. They kissed between gasps, said things I couldn’t make out, and I could barely hold myself up against the doorframe.

—Don’t stop —Marisol begged, her voice broken—. Don’t stop.

I watched them speed up until they both came almost at once, clinging to each other, trembling. I came with them, silently, feeling my knees go weak. I had to grab the doorknob to keep from collapsing into the hallway.

***

It didn’t end there. After a brief rest, Marisol climbed on top of Renata, pressed her breasts against hers, and they rolled over the bed without stopping their kissing. Then my wife went to the closet and took out the harness we kept for ourselves. She strapped it on with such natural ease that it turned me on all over again, spread Renata’s legs, and fucked her slowly, looking her in the eyes.

—I’ve wanted you since the first night —Marisol told her.

—And I’ve wanted you too —the other woman replied, arching her back.

The pace kept building. The headboard knocked against the wall, bodies slammed together, and Renata begged for more with every thrust. They could see themselves reflected in the closet mirror, and I knew that image excited them even more: seeing themselves while giving each other pleasure.

—You’re mine tonight —Marisol gasped.

—I’m yours —Renata answered, digging her nails into her back.

I had stopped holding back my moans, which mingled with theirs in that airless room. I was touching myself, braced against the wall, my legs shaking, until a new orgasm coursed through me and left me seated on the floor, watching them continue, relentless, one on top of the other.

***

When they finally calmed down, they lay on their sides, wrapped around each other, exchanging small, slow kisses. I slipped out quietly to the next room and stayed awake for a long time, replaying everything I had seen.

The next morning, Marisol came into my room before I had fully woken up. She hugged me tightly, kissed me with a new tenderness, and whispered that it had been a beautiful night. Her eyes were shining. Then she went to shower with Renata, and from the bathroom their moans could be heard again, shameless, guilt-free.

I didn’t feel jealous. For the first time in years, I felt desire had come back home to stay. When they came out of the shower, glowing, I knew that this was not an ending, but the beginning of something we were going to explore together, without fear and without limits.