My Husband’s Proposal I Didn’t Dare Refuse

This is the first time I’ve dared to tell something like this, so let me introduce myself before getting to the important part. My name is Marina, I’ve been married for seven years, and we still don’t have children. My husband, Damián, asked me to marry him when I was barely in my twenties, and since then we’ve shared a house with his father and younger brother, who live with us.

I grew up in a family that was neither too strict nor too lenient. My parents drilled only one thing into me with real firmness: not to play with my partner’s feelings, and not to let them play with mine. They wanted me to stand up for myself and to show the same respect. And that’s what I did. I never cheated on any of my boyfriends, and I don’t think I ever let any of them disrespect me either.

Let’s talk a little about the physical side, since it matters here. Damián is the kind of man who practically lives at the gym. He doesn’t have exaggerated muscles, but he is well-built, nicely proportioned, and with the beard he rarely shaves, he looks older than he is. He’s kind, polite, and helpful, but because of his bearing and those aviator sunglasses he always wears, people who meet him for the first time are often a little afraid of him. I, on the other hand, am sociable, outgoing, the kind who talks to anyone. I’m slim, of average height, and I’ve never lacked for attention: I have a generous chest and a well-proportioned body, and that, for better or worse, draws the attention of men and some women.

Our relationship started wonderfully. Damián was attentive, chivalrous, a good person in the simplest sense of the word. I took it for granted that we would be a traditional couple, because he seemed to want a traditional family. We never really talked about it; we simply assumed it. Then the chance came for him to go work abroad for two years, and he left. I waited for him. I never cheated on him, not once. But out there, far away, he got the idea in his head that maybe I’d had some affair.

When he came back, everything seemed to be as it had been before. But the months went by and the subject started coming up every now and then, like a dripping leak. One night, in the kitchen, he asked me again whether I’d been with someone while he was working abroad. I told him no, that I had waited for him, and I felt myself getting tired of repeating the same thing. We almost ended up in a serious fight. He tried to calm me down. Until he looked me in the eyes in a different way.

“I want to talk to you seriously,” he said.

By his tone, I thought he was getting ready to end our marriage.

“What do you want to tell me?” I replied, nervous, not lowering my gaze.

“I don’t know how to say it, so I hope you’ll understand me and not get scared,” he took my hand and his voice gradually softened.

“You know I love you and that you can trust me. But if you think I was unfaithful to you, the answer is no. I couldn’t do that to the person I love.”

I could feel my heart in every part of my body.

And then the bomb dropped, without warning, like a bucket of ice-cold water.

“I want you to have a lover,” he said. “I want you to sleep with another man. Only then will I be able to get this feeling out of my head that you were with someone.”

I stayed in shock for a long time. I didn’t know what to say. But his face wasn’t the face of a man joking. It was the face of a serious man who knew perfectly well what he was saying, no matter how much my mind insisted on convincing me he was only playing.

“Love, please, say something,” he insisted. “I’m telling you this with complete sincerity.”

What followed was a conversation that felt like a dream. I refused again and again. I told him that could end up ruining us for good, and he swore it wouldn’t, that it would be the opposite. I told him no a thousand times. Until, exhausted, I finally gave in with one firm condition: one time only. One, and never again. He agreed.

***

The days passed as if nothing had happened, until two weeks later he asked me if I had already thought about who it would be with. The truth is I had thought about his proposal, but never about anyone specific, because deep down I still believed he’d get over it.

“I haven’t looked for anyone,” I told him, seriously, still unsure. “And if I do, I don’t want it to be someone we know, or someone who knows about our family or our lives.”

“I understand,” he replied, calm but certain. “What if you start talking to people online? That way you can take your time, get to know him, and he won’t know anything about you beyond what you want to tell him.”

I followed his advice. I opened an account and started chatting with the ones who seemed most interesting. It was one disappointment after another. Most of them wanted to fall in love with me, and I was already in love with my husband. But I didn’t lose hope that someone would appear who fit what I was looking for. Almost two months passed before a message arrived from someone who had just accepted my request. A simple “hi, how are you?” that, without knowing it, opened up an entire world.

His photo didn’t impress me much. He was quite a bit older than me, and I won’t lie: I thought he must be married, with children, looking for an affair without considering the consequences. I was wrong. His conversation was natural, fluid, with no hidden agenda. Days went by and he never hinted at anything sexual, and that was precisely what made me trust him. I’ll call him Rodrigo.

We agreed to meet for lunch, as friends. My first impression in person wasn’t dazzling either; I thought, with some humor, “well, at least he showered.” But the conversation was pleasant. He told me he had never been married, that he had no children, that he worked and wasn’t looking for a relationship. He sounded sincere. Nothing happened on that outing, we just got to know each other, but it was important to me: I told him in no uncertain terms that I was married, and I made clear everything he needed to know so there would be no misunderstandings.

When I got home, Damián was waiting anxiously.

“Love, I’m so glad you’re back. How was your date? Did you do anything interesting?”

“We just had lunch,” I told him. “I told him I’m married. He assured me he doesn’t have a partner or children.”

“Really?” His disappointment made me a little sad.

“Yes. But we’ll probably see each other again soon,” I lied a little; we hadn’t actually arranged anything specific.

“Good,” his voice brightened. “I hope next time you’ll be a little bolder and leave him speechless.”

***

During that week, Rodrigo wrote to me every day, even if it was only to say good morning. Never an inappropriate comment, never asking me for photos like others did. It was a friendship conversation, so calm that he didn’t even seem inclined to suggest another outing. So I suggested it. I asked him if he wanted to have lunch over the weekend, and he accepted.

When the day came, I had already made up my mind. Let whatever happens, happen. I put on a fitted skirt that reached halfway down my thigh, a white sleeveless blouse that showed a good portion of my cleavage, and grabbed my clutch. Damián saw me leaving and let out a low whistle.

“Wow, love, your new friend is going to be left speechless.”

I laughed. I was dressed bolder than usual, with soft makeup. And when I arrived at the restaurant, Rodrigo’s face was exactly that: surprise, and a silence of not knowing what to say.

“Hi, have you been here long? I was a little late,” I said.

“Don’t worry. You look very good today. Shall we sit?”

For the first time I noticed he was paying attention to my body, and far from making me uncomfortable, I felt flattered. We ate while making normal conversation, until he asked me about my husband. Whether he didn’t mind me going out to lunch with another man, whether he was jealous. I told him the truth.

“The truth is my husband wants me to sleep with someone. For a personal reason of his.”

“Really? Do you have that kind of relationship?”

“Yes. That’s why I’m looking for someone who meets certain conditions.”

“And what are those conditions?” he asked, surprised and a little annoyed. “When I started talking to you I never imagined you were looking for something like that. Have you gone out with many?”

“No, actually you’re the first person I accepted a date from. The others seemed like teenagers in the head. Even if I’m looking for sex, I don’t want to be treated like disposable object.”

“Tell me those conditions, then,” now he was interested.

“That it’s only once. That he doesn’t interfere in my private life, that he doesn’t look for me, that he doesn’t call me because he misses me, that no romantic feelings develop, and that he doesn’t have a partner.” I said it firmly, in a calm voice.

“From what you’re telling me, it seems logical. You’re married and you love your husband. I’m not going to ask why you do this; you two are the couple, and I consider myself your friend.”

Those words finished convincing me. Without overthinking it, I asked him if he wanted to be that person. He didn’t hesitate.

***

We left the restaurant and got into his car headed for a hotel. As soon as he started driving, the air between us changed.

“You’re very beautiful. Just imagining what we’re going to do makes me nervous,” he said.

“I think you’ve been nervous since I arrived. I noticed the way you were looking at me,” I replied, with a hint of mischief.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. But it’s true, that outfit looks incredible on you.”

“The important thing is that I feel comfortable. And I know you’re not going to be looking at me only with my clothes on,” I was already starting to get hot.

“And not only looking either. How about I touch you while we get there?”

I said nothing. I took his hand and put it on my breast. I felt him squeeze, slowly at first, and a sigh escaped me without permission. He was stroking me over the blouse, until carefully he slipped his hand under the fabric. I didn’t care that at the traffic lights other cars were pulling up beside us, or about the people crossing the street. I just wanted him not to stop. And he didn’t stop.

We arrived at the hotel and, while he parked, I adjusted my clothes so I wouldn’t go in looking disheveled. But as soon as the room door closed, we put all modesty aside. Rodrigo hugged me from behind, yanked my blouse down, and started kissing my neck and chest with a hunger I hadn’t expected. He ran his tongue slowly and then sucked hard, and that intensity only made me hotter.

“Marina, you smell like heaven,” he murmured against my skin.

He lifted me up in his arms, hands firm on my hips, and carried me to the bed. He let me fall onto the mattress and took his time: he kissed my stomach, my thighs, going lower with a patience that drove me crazy. I moaned without holding back, as if I’d gone years without feeling anything like it. I did nothing but enjoy it, surrender, let him do what he wanted.

“You’re much hotter than you look,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I only wanted to be your friend, but this would have been a waste.”

His words turned me on as much as his hands, though I didn’t want to let him know. I slid to the edge of the bed, knelt on the floor, and returned the favor, slowly at first, with measured movements, until he started breathing faster and I knew I was on the right track.

“You know exactly what you’re doing,” he gasped. “Keep going.”

I stayed silent, waiting for him to say more, getting turned on with every word.

“I can’t take it anymore,” I said at last. “Put the condom on.”

I settled myself on the bed, on my knees, offering myself to him. I felt one hand on my hip and the other guiding him. He showed no mercy: he pushed in all at once and I lost my breath for a moment, before the feeling turned wonderful. He stayed still for a moment, letting me adjust, and then, both hands on my hips, he started moving hard.

“I love the way you take me,” he said between thrusts. “You’ve been waiting for this for a while, haven’t you?”

I could only moan and enjoy it.

“Yes, don’t stop,” I answered, almost voiceless.

He changed my position. He put me on my side, one leg pointing down toward the floor and the other over his shoulder, held there by his hands on my thigh. I was completely open at the edge of the mattress, and he entered me again without hesitation.

“God, you do it so well,” I blurted. “Keep going, like that, don’t stop.”

I no longer had a single reservation left. I listened to his ragged breathing, and my vision began to blur. For a second I thought I was going to faint, but that wasn’t it: I was reaching the limit. A long moan escaped from my mouth, drawn out, and a few seconds later he couldn’t hold back either.

We stayed like that for a while, catching our breath, until he pulled away. I glanced at myself in the room mirror and could hardly believe the position I’d ended up in. All I could think, still breathless, was: that was incredible.

***

Rodrigo drove me home. On the way I thanked him, repeated that it wouldn’t happen again, and asked him to keep the secret, to act like nothing had happened. He agreed without any problem, and suddenly he was back to being the calm friend I’d met. He left me at the door and we said goodbye normally, as if we had just had lunch.

When I went in, Damián was waiting for me. From his face, it looked like he could guess everything before I said a word. And finally, I told him.

But this story doesn’t end here. This was only the beginning of many other adventures that came afterward. I know I went on a bit long, though I tried to sum up the essentials, because it was important to me that you understood how everything began and how I met the people who appear later on. I promise the next ones will be shorter and bolder. For now I’ll say goodbye, and if you’ll allow me, I’d like to keep telling you more.