My Wife Traded Me for My Boss’s Wife

I'm going to tell you how I lost Carolina, my wife, and all because I was lazy. I didn't lose her to another man; I might have been able to put up with that. I lost her to a woman, and I didn't even have the weapons to fight that battle.

It started one ordinary morning, the kind when I was still lying facedown in bed while the sun was already beating down hard on the street.

—Marcos, it's noon —Carolina said, yanking open the curtains—. Noon, and you're still here, sprawled out like a sack.

I covered my face with the pillow.

—Baby, give me another half hour. I got home a little too late last night.

—A little too late, my ass. You came home smelling like a dive bar and cheap perfume. Get up or I'll dump the bucket of water over you.

Carolina wasn't the type to make empty threats. I'd known her for seven years, and I'd learned that when she spoke in that tone, she already had the bucket ready. I dragged myself to the bathroom and let the cold water wash away my hangover.

In front of the mirror, I encouraged myself. Marcos, you're handsome. Women lose their minds over a man like you. If your woman doesn't wake up, someone else will pick you up off the floor. Drunk-man nonsense from the morning after, but it worked for me.

I came out in a towel and found her in the yard, scrubbing a shirt against the washbasin.

—Carolina, come on, make me some broth with lots of chili. I'm feeling really beat-up.

She didn't even look at me.

—The day you bring home enough for beans, you can give me orders. Not today.

I sat on a little stool and begged her. I told her that this time I really would change. I whined. I'd done it so many times I already had the choreography down. She sighed, dropped the shirt, and wiped her hands on her apron.

—My brother Ricardo got you a job. A minibus on the downtown route. Today at three, you report to Mr. Eduardo, the owner. You hand over three thousand a day. The diesel comes out of that. Whatever's left is ours. If you let me down this time, Marcos, I won't open the door to you again. This isn't a threat, it's a promise.

I nodded like a good little boy. That same afternoon, I picked up the minibus keys from Mr. Eduardo, a gray-haired man of about sixty, quiet, the kind who looked you straight in the eye without blinking. He patted me on the shoulder and said he trusted me because Ricardo had promised him. On your brother-in-law's word, not yours, he added.

That first week, I applied myself. I came home with a thousand, twelve hundred pesos. Carolina took the money, counting every bill, and at night, when she got into bed, she let me hold her from behind. After a short month of good behavior, she even gave me more than a hug.

—You earned this today —she said, and took off her nightgown in front of the lamp.

Carolina was thirty, but had a young girl's body. Firm legs, full breasts, warm skin. She climbed onto the bed on all fours, her heavy tits hanging down, her nipples already hard, and pushed my hands away when I tried to grab her. She moved down over my chest, my belly, and without another word took my entire cock into her mouth. She sucked me slowly, squeezing her cheeks and looking at me. She pulled my saliva-covered dick out, licked it from my balls to the tip, and swallowed it all the way down again. I clenched the sheets in my fists.

—Look how hard you get for me —she murmured, spitting a thread of drool onto the head and taking me back into her mouth.

Then she sat on top of me. She took my cock in her hand, spread her pussy with two fingers, and lowered herself slowly. She was so wet that I slid inside with one thrust. She started moving up and down, her tits bouncing against my face, and instead of lasting, I devoured her with my mouth like a desperate man. I bit her nipples, sucked them, and two minutes later—not even two—I felt everything coming. I came inside her with a groan, gripping her ass, and fell back with my eyes rolled up. She kept moving on top of me for a few seconds, seeking out her clitoris with her fingertips, until she realized I was already asleep, my cock slipping out of her soft and dripping semen down her thighs.

She told me later that on those occasions she would lie there staring at the ceiling, breathing hard, my cum running down her pussy, and finish herself with her fingers. She rubbed her clitoris quickly, biting her lip to keep quiet, and when she came she squeezed her thighs together and smothered her moan in the pillow. She'd already learned not to expect anything from me. But I found that out later. For now, I slept happily, thinking I was the best lover in the neighborhood.

***

After a month of applying myself, I started slacking off. I stayed up late, left at four, and the bills coming home got smaller and smaller. Worse, I started not coming home at all. I went out with my friends to a bar called El Pistachón, where there was a waitress named Karla who I found very amusing. Carolina noticed the lipstick stains on my shirts. She noticed the strange perfume on my neck. And one day, without me realizing it, she heard me talking on the phone.

—All right, boys, count me in. At El Pistachón at nine? Done. I'll deal with the wildcat at home; she won't find out.

When I hung up, Carolina was on the other side of the door. Her face was a sleeping volcano. But she said nothing. She even smiled. She let me shower, put on cologne, and leave humming. What a fool, she told me later she had thought. I even opened the front door for him so he'd leave happier.

Eight hours passed after I left. At eleven that night, Carolina put on a pair of sweatpants, tied her hair in a bun, slipped a flat iron into her bag, and went out looking for me.

As soon as she closed the front door, a car stopped in front of her. It was Mr. Eduardo, my boss, with his driver at the wheel and a woman in the back.

—Good evening, Mrs. Carolina. I was looking for Marcos or his brother Ricardo. Your husband hasn't turned in the day's money for ten days. He owes me thirty thousand pesos. The minibus is missing too. I've come to collect what's mine.

Carolina felt the ground open beneath her, but she didn't let it show. She explained that she was on her way to look for me at a nightclub, and that the minibus was surely parked there. Mr. Eduardo offered to take her in his truck. He opened the back door, and my wife climbed in beside the woman already sitting there.

Soledad. That was Mr. Eduardo's wife's name. In her forties, tall, with very fair skin and a body that was clearly well-trained. She wore a low-cut blouse and a leather jacket, which she took off as soon as Carolina sat beside her.

—You're Marcos's woman —Soledad said, looking her up and down—. I didn't know he was so lucky. Look at you.

Carolina smiled politely. Two minutes later, she felt Soledad's hand resting on her knee. Not firmly, not aggressively. Just resting there. Like someone laying a hand on a table, leaving it to the other person to decide whether it stays or goes.

The truck moved down the avenue. Mr. Eduardo sat up front talking with the driver: accounts, numbers, business problems. In back, Soledad took out her phone and sent Carolina a message.

«Don't be scared. Want to see something?»

Carolina replied that she didn't understand. Without waiting, Soledad pulled her neckline down a little and, for five seconds, exposed the most perfect breasts my wife had ever seen. Large, firm, with dark nipples hardening in the cold air. Then she straightened her blouse as if nothing had happened.

«Do you like them?» she wrote.

Carolina didn't answer. Soledad wrote again: «Do you want to touch them?»

My wife told me that at that moment her legs began to tremble. She felt heat in her neck, shame and curiosity all at once. She had never looked at another woman that way. But when Soledad gently took her hand and guided it beneath her blouse, she didn't pull away.

That mature woman's skin was as firm as a twenty-year-old girl's. Her nipple hardened immediately beneath Carolina's palm, fat and rough against her fingertip. Soledad grabbed her wrist and made her squeeze harder, pinch it, and let out a short breath through her nose so Mr. Eduardo wouldn't hear. My wife began massaging her entire breast, weighing it, feeling the warm heaviness of that white flesh spilling between her fingers. Meanwhile, Soledad's other hand had already slipped inside the waistband of the sweatpants, sliding between fabric and skin, searching for what was already wet.

Soledad's fingers found my wife's pussy soaked. She parted her lips with two fingers, stroked her clitoris in slow circles, and then gently squeezed it between thumb and forefinger. Carolina spread her legs without realizing it. Soledad pushed one whole finger inside, all the way to the knuckle, and moved it around, probing for the spot. Then she inserted two. Carolina pressed her lips together to keep from moaning. The leather seat creaked beneath her ass each time she shifted. She closed her eyes. Soledad whispered in her ear:

—You're dripping, sweetheart. Look at the state you're in.

She pulled out her fingers, shining with juice, and held them beneath Carolina's nose so she could smell herself. Then she brought them to her own mouth. When my wife opened her eyes, she saw Soledad sucking her fingers, tongue out, swallowing her taste and smiling with wet lips.

The truck braked. They had arrived at El Pistachón. The two women composed themselves as if nothing had happened. They got out to look for me. They didn't find me in the bar, but they did find me four hundred meters farther on: the minibus smashed against a tree, twelve passengers sitting on the sidewalk waiting for ambulances, and me standing there arguing with a cop, reeking of tequila to the bone.

Mr. Eduardo approached. I made up a story about the brakes blowing out. The driver exposed me in two seconds: the kids from the minibus had told the cop that I was driving with a woman on my lap, which was why I'd lost control of the wheel. Carolina slapped me twice squarely across the face before Mr. Eduardo stepped in to separate us.

That night I understood that I had lost her. Though I still didn't understand how completely.

***

Mr. Eduardo kept his word: he had me jailed for the damage and the debt. One hundred and thirty thousand pesos. I didn't have it. Carolina didn't come to see me even once. I called her from the prison phone, and she told me coldly that she would try to get me out on one condition: that I sign the divorce papers as soon as I was released.

—I'll take care of the rest, Marcos. Don't ask.

I didn't ask. Twenty days later, a guard opened my cell and told me I was free. The debt had been forgiven.

And only then, out on the street, did I begin to suspect how Carolina had paid for it.

She told me the whole story afterward, without a single gram of guilt. The day after my call, she dressed nicely, put on lipstick for the first time in months, and showed up at Mr. Eduardo's house. The maid ushered her into the living room. But the person who came down the stairs wasn't Mr. Eduardo. It was Soledad.

—I've come to ask your husband for a favor —Carolina said, looking at the floor.

—My husband isn't here. But maybe I can take care of it faster —Soledad said, closing the living-room door.

She offered her coffee. She sat across from Carolina with her legs crossed. They talked for a while about the weather and my uselessness. Then Soledad reached out and placed a finger beneath my wife's chin, forcing her to raise her face.

—You were left unfinished the other night —she said—. I wasn't. I finished myself alone thinking about you. I put three fingers inside and imagined your mouth. Does it bother you that I'm telling you?

Carolina shook her head. She couldn't even speak.

—If you want your husband to get out, you don't owe me anything. I'll give it to you. But if you'd like to stay a while, I'll teach you things he'll never teach you.

My wife stayed. They went upstairs to the bedroom. Soledad locked the door and switched on a bedside lamp. She turned Carolina's back to the mirror and began undressing her herself, piece by piece, as if discovering her for the first time. She pulled her blouse over her head and ran her hot tongue along her neck, biting it slowly. She unfastened Carolina's bra, and her tits fell free, their nipples already erect. Soledad crouched down and sucked first one, then the other, nibbling them and tugging with her teeth until saliva speckled her chest.

Then she pulled down her pants. She slipped her hand over the fabric of Carolina's panties and felt how soaked they were.

—Just like in the truck —she murmured—. Dripping again.

She yanked off the panties. Then Soledad undressed, taking her time, displaying herself completely without hurry. When she removed her skirt, a shaved, pink pussy appeared, its large lips already swollen. Carolina stared at it as if looking at something forbidden.

—Kneel.

Carolina obeyed. Soledad put one foot on the dressing-table chair and offered her sex at mouth level. She grabbed the back of Carolina's head and drew her closer slowly.

—Stick out your tongue. That's it. Wide and flat. Lick me all over from bottom to top. Once. Again. Suck my lips one by one, take them between yours. Good. Now find the clitoris. It's right there. That hard little bit. With the tip of your tongue, in circles. Slowly, sweetheart, it's not a lollipop, it's a button. Look at me. Look me in the eyes while you suck it.

She taught her everything step by step, without vulgarity, like a teacher. She taught her to spread the lips with her fingers, to use her flat tongue first and then focus on the clitoris. She asked her to look into her eyes while she did it. She told her to learn to breathe between licks. She put her fingers in Carolina's mouth so she could taste her own saliva mixed with her juices.

—Don't be afraid of the smell —she told her—. It's the best-tasting thing in the world. Get it inside. Put your tongue deep inside me, fuck me with your tongue.

Carolina, who had always been reserved with me, gave herself over like never before. She buried her face between those white thighs, pushed her tongue in as far as she could, pulled it out, and sucked Soledad's clitoris with her lips tightly sealed, making noise. Soledad grabbed my wife's hair and began moving her head to her own rhythm, grinding her pussy against Carolina's mouth. When she was about to come, she squeezed her face with both hands and thrust against her tongue three quick times. She came screaming, her legs trembling, dripping over my wife's chin.

Then they switched. Soledad laid her down on the bed, opened her legs wide, and held them apart with her hands. She stared at her open pussy for a moment, admiring it, and blew gently on it before touching it.

—You have it so pretty, sweetheart. Pink. Already all swollen.

She began licking her slowly. Very slowly. Her whole tongue moving from bottom to top, once, again, until Carolina raised her hips, seeking more. Then Soledad caught her clitoris between her lips and began sucking it without letting go, moving her tongue over it at the same time. My wife gripped the bars of the headboard. She moaned openly for the first time in her life.

Soledad slipped in one finger. Then two. Then three, all the way in, palm up, searching for that inner spot I had been too lazy to find. She curled them in and out while continuing to suck her clitoris with her mouth full. After a while, she added her tongue inside as well, nibbling the outer lips. The wet sound of her fingers sliding in and out filled the room.

When Carolina screamed so loudly that the maid had to turn the television up full blast downstairs, she was coming for the first time in her life with another person's mouth pressed to her pussy. She clamped Soledad's head between her thighs and soaked her face. She convulsed, began to cry, and then laughed.

They finished on top of each other, scissoring, both pussies pressed together and rubbing. Soledad grabbed Carolina's leg and used it as leverage to rub herself harder, clitoris against clitoris, juice against juice. They came together, intertwined, rubbing against each other with a synchronicity that only two women who know where the other's desire lies can achieve. Carolina came for the second time that afternoon, eyes squeezed shut, scratching Soledad's back, and collapsed on her back, exhausted, thighs trembling and both their pussies a mess.

Before Carolina got dressed, Soledad told her, still naked, running a finger over her nipple:

—Your husband gets out in twenty days. But you come back tomorrow.

And my wife came back. And the next day too. And the day after that.

***

When I got out of prison and arrived home, Carolina was getting ready to leave. Made up, wearing a new blouse, perfumed.

—Baby, I'm home.

—Good —she said without looking at me—. My lawyer has already started the divorce proceedings. Sign whenever you want.

—Carolina, wait. Is there someone else?

She turned slowly. She looked me in the eyes the way she hadn't looked at me in years: peacefully.

—There is someone. But it's not another man. It's another woman.

—What?

—Soledad. Mr. Eduardo's wife. She's the one who got me out of trouble, and she's the one I'm going to be with. You had years to teach me, Marcos. She learned in one afternoon what you never wanted to know.

She closed her purse, gave me a dry kiss on the cheek, and left. Through the window I watched her get into a car I already knew. Soledad was behind the wheel, wearing dark glasses, and leaned over to kiss my wife on the mouth before driving away.

Because I was lazy, drunk, and selfish, another woman won mine from me. Even now, when I pass down the street where Mr. Eduardo lives, I have to see the two of them leaving arm in arm, laughing about something only they understand. And I stay on the other side of the street, smoking a cigarette, thinking that of all the ways a man can lose his woman, this is the only one I couldn't fight.