I Went to Surprise My Husband and I Was the One Who Got the Surprise

I went to Marcos’s office that afternoon under the pretense of giving him a surprise. The truth was something else: I wanted to soothe the guilt gnawing at me from the inside for weeks, the guilt over my affairs with women he never knew about. I thought seeing him, being close to him, would be enough to remind me why I had married him.

The door to his office was ajar. I approached quietly, and before I knocked I heard his voice.

—You’re incredible, Lorena.

I stopped. I stood frozen in the hallway with my hand in the air, listening. Then, very slowly, I pushed the door open just enough to see.

Marcos was standing by the window with his gray shirt rolled up to his elbows. His arms were wrapped around the waist of his secretary, a woman I had seen a couple of times at company events: Lorena, Colombian by origin, who had been in Spain since childhood and had that kind of direct beauty that needs no effort. She wore a dark button-up blouse unfastened lower than usual and a black skirt that fell halfway down her thigh.

Marcos had her pressed against him and was murmuring something in her ear while she tipped her head back with a smile.

—Boss —she said softly—, I’ve been waiting all morning for you to fuck me.

He didn’t answer with words. He ripped her blouse open and let it fall to the floor. Underneath, she wore nothing. Lorena had a body impossible not to look at: big, firm tits, dark, smooth skin, a flat stomach, dark nipples already hard and pointing upward. Marcos tilted his head and took them in his hands, squeezing until they pushed together before bringing his mouth to one nipple and sucking on it hungrily. His tongue circled, tugged, nibbled, and she writhed against him.

—Keep going —she whispered—. Suck them harder, fuck, you drive me crazy when you do that.

I didn’t move. I should have left. I should have closed the door, gone downstairs, and forgotten what I had seen. Instead I stayed leaning in the doorway, watching, and what I felt was not what a woman in that situation is supposed to feel.

I didn’t feel jealous.

I felt heat. A heat rising from my stomach and dropping straight down to my cunt, a wet throb that had nothing to do with Marcos.

He pulled away from her for a moment, took off his shirt, yanked her skirt down —she wasn’t wearing a thong underneath— and made her kneel. Lorena unbuckled his belt with a slow smile, pulled down his pants and boxers, and took out his already hard cock. She stared at it for a second, grabbed it by the base with one hand and ran her tongue from his balls to the tip, very slowly, never taking her eyes off him. Then she took it all the way into her mouth.

Marcos braced one hand against the wall to keep his balance. She sucked him with hunger, going in and out, leaving a trail of saliva that ran down her chin and dampened her tits. She pulled his cock out of her mouth to lick his balls, one first, then the other, and swallowed him again to the hilt. He put a hand on the back of her neck and started setting the rhythm, fucking her mouth with no gentleness at all, and she let him with her eyes closed and her tits bouncing with each thrust.

—Like that, take it all —I heard Marcos murmur—. Just the way you like it.

He moaned in a way I had never heard before, or maybe had never paid attention to.

Then he lifted her from the floor, turned her around, and bent her over the desk face down. He spread her legs with his knee, spat into his hand, ran it over his cock, and shoved in with one hard thrust. Lorena let out a muffled cry that mixed with a laugh.

—Oh, boss, yes, like that, give it to me hard.

And he did. He gripped her hips and hammered into her without pause, the desk creaking under their weight, her round ass slamming against his thighs, her tits crushed against the wood. Every so often he slapped her ass and she moaned louder. I had one hand under my skirt without realizing it, rubbing over my panties, soaked through, biting my lip so I wouldn’t make a sound in the hallway.

I stayed until the heat inside me became too much and I decided to leave before either of them realized I had been there. Lorena’s final moans followed me down the hallway.

On the way home I realized something: I wasn’t thinking about Marcos. I was thinking about her. About her tits, her ass, the way her back arched every time he buried himself in her. That night I masturbated twice thinking about her, and neither time did I remember my husband.

***

Three days later, Marcos called me from the hotel to say he had left a USB drive with contracts in the desk drawer at home. He needed someone to pick it up and email him a scanned copy. Lorena would stop by to collect it that afternoon, if I didn’t mind.

I didn’t mind. I did, in fact, mind quite a lot, but in the opposite sense from what he imagined.

I changed clothes twice. In the end I went with beige linen trousers and a cream silk blouse with the top buttons open, no bra underneath. I looked at myself in the mirror more than usual and decided it was fine.

Lorena arrived on time. She rang the bell, and when I opened the door I found her wearing a short denim skirt, heeled sandals, and a camisole blouse that clung to every curve without a hint of apology. Her hair was down and she smelled at once citrusy and warm.

—Hi —she said, with a smile that was not the kind you wear when greeting your boss’s wife—. Sorry for the trouble.

—No trouble at all —I said—. Come in.

We found the USB right away, in the third drawer. Lorena plugged it into her laptop and while she waited for it to load I stood beside her, looking at the screen, though I wasn’t interested in the screen at all. I was interested in the neckline that showed every time she leaned forward, in the nipple I could make out under the thin fabric of her blouse.

I don’t know when I stopped pretending. At some point between the second minute and the third I let one hand drift to her shoulder, very slowly, as if I were about to ask her something about the file.

—Lorena —I said.

She didn’t move. She didn’t pull away. She stayed still with her hands on the keyboard and waited.

That was enough.

I slid one strap down with two fingers, and she turned toward me with an expression that wasn’t surprise. It was something else. It was the same kind of heat I had been carrying for days.

—Is the señora angry with me for fucking her husband? —she asked softly, and gave me a dirty smile.

—Don’t call me señora —I told her—. My name is Nadia. And no, I’m not angry at all. In fact, I saw you the other day in the office. I stood watching from the door.

I saw her eyes widen, her mouth curve into a new smile.

—You saw us? —she said, her voice dropping an octave—. Everything?

—Everything. And I got horny.

—Fuck, Nadia.

I unbuttoned her blouse slowly, button by button, never looking away from her. When I opened it, her tits were exposed —just as I remembered from the office, dark and full, with large nipples already hardening— and I took a moment to look at them because it was what I wanted to do. Then I brought both hands to them and took them carefully, weighing them, pressing my thumbs over her nipples.

—You have incredible tits —I told her—. No wonder Marcos can’t leave you alone.

She let out a soft laugh.

—Nadia, I did not expect this from you.

—Neither did I —I admitted.

I tilted my head and ran my tongue over her left nipple. She closed her eyes and tipped her neck back. I sucked it fully into my mouth, tugging at it with my lips, biting it softly with my teeth, while my hand stroked her other breast, pinching the nipple between my fingers. After a moment she put a hand on the back of my neck to pull me closer.

—God —she murmured—. You do it way better than he does. Marcos is rough, he goes straight in, you take your time.

I liked hearing that. I kept going like that for a good while, moving from one breast to the other, sucking, licking, enjoying her moans, the weight of her breasts in my hands, the slightly salty taste of her skin. I lifted her denim skirt with one hand while keeping my mouth on her nipples, and ran my fingers over her panties. They were soaked.

—You’re already wet —I said, lifting my head.

—I’ve been wet since you opened the door —she answered.

When I lifted my head my lips were a little damp and she was looking at me with an expression halfway between astonished and hungry.

—Now it’s my turn —she said.

She unbuttoned my blouse with more skill than I had used on hers and opened it wide. She stared at my tits for a second, with that kind of attention almost nobody ever has.

—They’re beautiful —she said—. Marcos is an idiot.

And without waiting for an answer she started sucking them. She did it differently from the way Marcos did: calmer, more present, her tongue working each nipple as if it were a complete thing, nibbling, sucking, leaving the areola wet before blowing on it so it would stand on end. Every time she changed breasts she did it with a deliberate slowness that drove me crazy in the best possible way. At the same time she had unbuttoned my trousers and was slipping her hand into my panties, and her fingers found my clit with a precision that made me clutch her shoulders.

—You’re just as soaked as I am —she said with her mouth still on my nipple.

I had to lean on the table.

***

When we were down to our underwear, she was the one who suggested going to the bedroom. I led her down the hall with my hands on her waist, feeling how she moved as she walked, her tits swaying and her ass barely covered by the thong.

—So this is where your boss fucks you? —she asked when she came in, looking at the bed with a smile.

—When he remembers —I said—. Lately he seems more focused on fucking you in the office.

We both laughed. It was a strange, pleasant moment, that second of humanity before going back to what we were doing.

I laid her on the bed and pulled her skirt all the way down. Underneath she wore a very small black lace thong, the center panel already darkened with wetness. I knelt at the foot of the bed and slid that down too, slowly, looking at her as I did. When her pussy was exposed —shaved, swollen, the lips already shining— I had to take a deep breath. She wasn’t ashamed at all. She let herself be looked at calmly, with her legs open, like someone who knows exactly what she has.

—Look all you want —she said—. And then eat me out.

I started with her thighs. I ran my mouth along the inside of her left thigh, then the right, without reaching where she clearly wanted me to reach. I licked her skin, bit her softly, ran my tongue very close to her cunt without touching it. I heard her huff in impatience.

—Nadia.

—What?

—You know what. Eat me out already, fuck.

I laughed and did as she asked. I brought my mouth to her cunt and ran my tongue slowly from bottom to top, gathering all her wetness, tasting her. She tasted intense, warm, slightly salty. I parted her lips with my fingers and found her clit with the tip of my tongue, circling it, barely touching it, until she started pushing her hips toward my face for more. Then I closed over it and sucked it properly, steadily, with a rhythm that made her breathing break. At the same time I slid two fingers inside her and found that swollen spot deep within that made her let out a long moan.

—Oh God, like that, like that, don’t stop, don’t stop.

I fucked her with my fingers while sucking her clit, the rhythm getting faster and faster. Her fingers were tangled in the sheets and in my hair, pulling my head against her cunt, moaning louder and louder.

—I’m going to come, Nadia, I’m going to come.

I kept going until I felt her whole body tense, her hips pushing toward me, the inner walls closing around my fingers, and I heard that sound that can’t be faked. She came hard, with her thighs tightening around my head, a shiver running through her whole body, and for a few seconds she said nothing, catching her breath while I kept licking her slowly, gathering up the juice I had drawn out of her.

—Fuck —she said at last—. Fuck.

Then she told me to get up there. I lay beside her and she looked at me with an expression that mixed gratitude and something like challenge.

—Your turn —she said.

She pulled down my thong with both hands and positioned herself between my legs. She wasn’t quick. She started at my stomach, ran her lips over my hip, then over the crease of my thigh, and I who thought I was patient discovered I was anything but. She spread my legs fully with her hands and looked at my cunt for a full second.

—You’re gorgeous like this —she said—. And soaked, look at you.

—Lorena —I said.

—What? —she asked, perfectly mimicking the tone I had used before—. I know what. Eat me out already.

We laughed again. Then she did what I wanted her to do, and she did it so well that at some point I stopped thinking about anything at all. She began licking me from top to bottom, very slowly, savoring me, and then focused on my clit with a technique I had never felt before: she trapped it between her lips and ran the tip of her tongue in tight circles, without changing rhythm, without speeding up or slowing down, until my hips started arching on their own. She slid one finger in first, then two, and found the spot inside me with the same precision with which I had found hers.

—Like that, don’t stop —I begged her—. Keep doing that.

I could feel nothing but her tongue, the soft weight of her other hand on my hip keeping me in place, the exact pressure of her fingers inside, the steady rhythm of my clit between her lips. I began to feel the orgasm gathering in the lower part of my stomach, building with every movement she made. I tugged at her hair without realizing it.

—I’m going to come —I said—. I’m going to come, Lorena, don’t stop.

She didn’t stop. When I came, it was long and clear, with no doubt at all, wave after wave that left my back arched, my eyes closed, and my legs trembling around her shoulders. She kept licking softly until I couldn’t take any more and had to push her head away because my clit had become too sensitive to bear any more.

She climbed up my body kissing the skin as she went, paused for a moment to suck one nipple again, and finally kissed me on the mouth. She slid her tongue inside, and I tasted myself. I liked it.

We rested for a few minutes, speaking little, our legs intertwined. Lorena stroked my arm with her fingertips without realizing it, as if by inertia, while with her other hand she absentmindedly pinched one nipple.

—I have a question —she said at last.

—Tell me.

—Was this a one-time thing, or can we do it again?

I really thought about it before answering. I didn’t look at her: I looked at the ceiling and let the question occupy the space it deserved.

—Ask again the next time Marcos is out of town —I said.

She smiled. I could tell without seeing her.

***

We showered together before she left. The idea of soaping each other up was mine, but she turned it into something more. Under the hot water, with steam filling the bathroom, we touched each other with the calm of people who no longer have anything to prove. I washed her back, sliding my soapy hands over her shoulders, her shoulder blades, down the curve of her waist to her ass, which I squeezed with both hands before slipping one finger between her cheeks and making her laugh. She washed my hair with that kind of slow attention that leaves you speechless, her fingers massaging my scalp while water poured over both of us.

When I rubbed soap over her tits, both bodies wet and slippery, she let her head fall back and I took the chance to kiss her neck, first softly, then with more hunger, biting it, sucking it until I left a red mark under her ear. I ran my soapy hands over her breasts, tugging her nipples between my slippery fingers, and she moaned and arched her back against me.

I wrapped my arms around her waist from behind and brought one hand to her cunt, slowly, while the water kept falling over us both. I found her clit with my fingers, rubbed it in circles, first gently and then harder, while with my other hand I kept squeezing one breast and nibbling at the nape of her neck. With two fingers I parted her open and pressed at the same time with the other finger.

—Oh, yes, like that —she gasped, pushing her ass back against me.

I finger-fucked her until her hips lost control. I slid two fingers in and out, my palm pressed against her clit, while the hot water beat over both of us. She braced her hands on the tiles so she wouldn’t fall, her back arched and her wet tits thrusting forward. I fucked her with my fingers hard, never stopping biting her shoulder, until I felt her whole body beginning to tense.

When she came, she did it almost in silence, only a broken breath and tense shoulders and a long shiver running through her legs. She turned and kissed me on the mouth for the first time with that kind of kiss: unhurried, deep, with the tongue going in and out, with her hands holding my face while water poured over us. It was a long, unhurried kiss that lasted until my fingers wrinkled.

When we came out, we dried off in silence. She dressed in front of me without hurrying, and I watched her without hiding it, looking at her tits every time she bent to pull up her panties or fasten her skirt. Before leaving, with her hand already on the doorknob, she turned back.

—I can stop seeing Marcos, if you want —she said. She meant it. It wasn’t an empty gesture.

—No need —I answered—. You’re both free to do whatever you want. And I already like the sound of him fucking you in the office while I wait here to do my own thing to you.

A new smile slipped out of her.

—I like that even more.

She nodded. Opened the door.

—Until next time, Nadia.

—Until next time.

I closed the door and stood leaning against it for a moment, listening to her footsteps on the stairs. I thought of Marcos in his hotel, knowing nothing. I thought of the guilt I had gone looking for in his office a few days earlier and how it had vanished completely without my doing anything to make it leave.

Some things resolve themselves. Others get resolved for you by other people.