The Woman Who Left My Boss Was Waiting for Me With Her Lover

I had already spent several years among the dust of the wood and the smell of varnish in Don Aurelio’s lumberyard. I went in there very young, barely able to tell a screw from a nail, and over time I became his right-hand man. The old man taught me the trade patiently, treated me almost like a son, and that was why I felt like a miserable bastard every time his wife, Mariela, walked through the shop door.

Mariela was an imposing woman of almost fifty, the kind who no longer needs to prove anything to anyone and knows it perfectly well. She had the confidence only well-lived years can give. She’d show up in jeans that looked painted onto her body, and I’d lower my head, pretending to count screws at the counter so she wouldn’t notice the hunger I felt for her.

When she ran off with another man and left Don Aurelio shattered, an absurd idea burned itself into my head: if that woman had been capable of leaving everything for someone still full of energy, maybe I had a chance too. That age gap kept turning over in my mind during the dead hours at the workshop.

That obsession ended up dragging me onto social media. I opened an anonymous account and started following liberal couples’ profiles in my area. I posted photos from the neck down, showing off the abs the job had carved into me, but I never showed my face for fear some neighbor might recognize me.

One night, a couple messaged me. After a couple of exchanges, I agreed to move to another app, and when the first image loaded I almost had a heart attack. The couple was Mariela and the man she had left my boss for. Gathering every ounce of courage I had, I sent them a photo of my face. The reply came immediately.

—Are you Damián? The one who works in my ex-husband’s lumberyard? —she wrote—. I can’t believe it. Who would’ve guessed that quiet boy hauling boards around was hiding that surprise under his uniform.

The three of us talked until dawn and made plans for the next day. I didn’t sleep a wink. At the workshop I felt like Don Aurelio could read my mind, but all I could think about was the woman who had kept me awake for years.

***

At four in the afternoon I was standing in front of the motel at the north exit. Walking down that hallway was torture; I could feel my pulse pounding in my temples with every step toward room nine. I knocked, and he opened the door. He was immaculate, in an expensive shirt and with a cold beer in his hand. He looked me up and down like someone inspecting a new tool.

—Come in, Damián. Don’t stand there like a watchman —he said with a mocking tone.

I went inside, and the sharp sound of the door closing made me flinch. Then the bathroom door opened and she came out. Mariela. The sight of her dried my mouth instantly. She was wearing a dark silk robe that barely covered her, and the scent of her perfume mixed with the dampness from the bathroom pinned me to the spot.

I was about to take a step toward her, but he put an arm across my chest and took a long pull from the beer.

—Hold it right there —he said calmly—. I know you’re in a hurry, but nothing gets done here like animals. Mariela isn’t just anybody. She’s my woman, and today you only do what I tell you.

He looked me straight in the eye.

—Listen carefully, Damián. Have you ever been with a couple? —I shook my head—. Then pay attention: I’m the one driving here. You’re the engine. If I say stop, you stop. You have to look at her, worship her, but always stay tuned to what I ask for. Can you do that or not?

Mariela let out a low laugh, came closer, and ran her hand over the fabric of my pants, where I could no longer hide anything.

—Look at him —she whispered—. The boy from the lumberyard wants to prove he’s a real man.

—All right, enough talking —he said between laughs—. Take off your pants, Damián. Stand right there in the middle so Mariela can give you a close look.

He didn’t have to repeat it. I fumbled with my belt, hands clumsy with adrenaline, and finished stripping naked, feeling the room’s cold air against my legs. At six feet tall, with the firm body the work had molded, I felt like an exposed animal beneath those two gazes.

Mariela walked toward me, looked me over from head to toe, and let out a sigh that finished setting me on fire.

—My God. I knew you had potential, but this is something else. What a waste to have you carrying boards around, darling.

She knelt down in front of me, not caring about the cold floor. Her face was level with my abdomen and I felt her hot breath brushing my skin. He came closer too, stood behind her, and rested a hand on her shoulder while still holding the beer with the other.

—Look, Damián. Look how your boss’s ex-wife gets on her knees for you. But don’t move. Stay still.

Mariela wrapped her hand around me and started moving it slowly, looking up at me with those eyes of a woman who knows exactly what she’s doing, licking her lips. The contact tore a groan from me that I couldn’t control.

—Don’t call him a boy, because that’s a full-grown man right there —he replied, taking another swig from the bottle—. Mariela, give it a taste. I want to see how it fits in your mouth.

She didn’t need anything else. She took me into her mouth in one go, all the way to the back, her eyes watering but fixed on my face. The wet sound and the suction were driving me insane. He burst out laughing at the sight of me gasping for air and drained the last of his beer.

—Fuck, Mariela, you’re going to swallow it whole —he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand—. The boy’s got wood in him, no pun intended.

***

He walked over to the armchair opposite the bed, flopped down there with all the calm in the world, and pointed at me with the empty bottle.

—Damián, sit on the edge of the bed. Mariela, he’s all yours. Do whatever you want to him, but let me watch from here.

She gently pushed me toward the mattress edge. I sat with my legs open, feeling like a king and a prisoner at the same time. She settled between my knees, brushed the hair from her face, dug her nails into my thighs, and looked at me with a wickedness that made me tremble.

—Now you’re mine —she said, and threw herself at me.

She gave me a blowjob only a woman with years of experience could give, taking me deep, enjoying the way I writhed on the sheets. I kept glancing toward the armchair, where he watched us like a private screening, seeing his wife devour the boy who years earlier had lined up boards for her husband.

—Mariela… —I managed to growl, throwing my head back and gripping the sheets hard.

She let me go with a wet sound and climbed up my body like a cat. She cupped my face with both hands and planted a deep, savage kiss on me, while moans spilled from her chest.

—Bite me, Damián. Don’t be afraid of me —she ordered in my ear, her voice breaking.

I did as she said. I bit her neck and went down to her breasts, sucking hungrily while she arched her back and clung to my shoulders. The contrast of my firm skin against her mature curves was too much.

Then suddenly she pulled away, turned around, got on all fours in front of my face, and lifted the broad hips I had always wanted to grab.

—Lick me until I can’t take any more —she said, tossing her head back to watch him stroke himself from the armchair.

I didn’t wait for instructions. I held her hips, buried my face, and started working on her with a desperation that came from my gut. Mariela was screaming, pounding the mattress with her fists while I gave her no mercy.

—That’s it! Harder! —she cried, while he, from the armchair, sped up the rhythm of his hand.

***

I was out of my mind, and I was about to throw myself on her, but she pressed a hand against my chest to stop me and, without stopping her panting, looked toward the armchair.

—Baby… —she said breathlessly—. Get him ready. I want him now.

He didn’t say a word. He got up with deliberate slowness, came over with a box of condoms, and prepared me himself, slowly, while she watched us with her legs open. Feeling Mariela’s man take care of that put my heart in my throat.

—Hold on, you beast. Now go give her what she wants —he whispered, stepping back without stopping touching himself.

I couldn’t hold out any longer. I threw myself on top of her. She wrapped her legs around my waist, guided me, and with one hard thrust I buried myself all the way in. The scream she let out filled my ears; she was tight, burning hot. I started pounding into her with everything I had, feeling my belly slam against hers, while he stayed inches away, watching me go in and out of his woman.

—That’s it, Damián! —he roared, pumping faster with his own hand.

The rhythm became frantic. Mariela was no longer the refined woman who walked into the workshop; she was pure hunger, shouting for me to change positions.

—Get on top, Mariela! Ride him and take control! —he ordered.

She shoved my shoulders so I’d lie back and straddled me. Seeing her up there, dominating the rhythm, was a mad sight. She rode me hard, throwing her head back and screaming with pleasure while I held her by the waist. Without warning, he stood in front of her face and she took care of him while still moving on top of me. Me underneath, feeling her clench around me, and her giving herself to both of us at once: the scene drove me out of my mind.

I felt the end rushing over me. I let out a dull grunt and came with violent pressure, breathless, muscles taut, vision blurring. Mariela collapsed against my chest, soaked in sweat, and planted a long kiss on me. But she didn’t stay still.

—Move, Damián —she whispered, her eyes glassy and a satisfied smile on her lips.

***

She lay down in the middle of the bed, spreading her legs, and pointed at her husband.

—Now you, my love. Finish what he started —then she looked at me—. You stay right there, don’t move. I want you to watch how my man does me.

I moved aside, propped up on one elbow on the pillow, inches from them. He positioned himself between her legs, gripped her thighs with his big hands, and thrust into her in one hard stroke that made the bed creak. Seeing him give it to her right beside me is an image I’m never going to erase from my head; Mariela screamed differently, deeper, while I had front-row seats to the way he possessed the woman I had wanted for years.

Before he could finish, she stopped him with her hand, panting, and turned to me with a hunger that almost frightened me. She grabbed me again and, with her quick, expert fingers, brought me back to life in seconds. He came up behind her, ready for the final assault.

—Not so fast, beast —he said, reaching for another condom from the nightstand—. We’ve got to get him ready again, because now comes the good part.

When everything was ready, he lifted her by the waist like she weighed nothing and settled her over me, facing me. The moan she let out when she felt me enter again was deep, but it cut off suddenly when he, positioned behind her, held her hips and, with a firm shove, forced his way in from behind. Mariela’s scream was deafening. She arched like a taut bow, her hands reaching for my pecs to brace herself, completely filled by both of us.

—Damián, feel how tight she gets! —he roared, setting an animal rhythm.

Suddenly her body went rigid, her muscles clamped down on me with incredible force, and she started shaking.

—I’m coming, baby! —she cried, hitting an orgasm that left her gasping.

Seeing her come apart like that, we both lost control. He sped up behind her, growling like a beast, and I drove short, fast thrusts, seeking the deepest point. I let out a dull roar and came with brutal pressure, arching on the bed. Almost at the same time, he gave a shout and buried himself one last time, staying still, vibrating with pleasure.

Those were seconds of pure silence, broken only by our ragged breathing. He withdrew slowly and collapsed to one side, exhausted. Mariela, too spent to speak, threw herself on top of me and buried her face in my neck. I wrapped an arm around her, feeling her heart pounding wildly against my ribs.

***

Later the three of us got into the hot water of the whirlpool tub in the corner of the room. The contrast of the heat with the soreness in our muscles felt heavenly. Mariela settled between my legs, her back against my chest, and he passed us three ice-cold beers from the small fridge.

—Cheers, Damián —he said, lifting his bottle—. You handled yourself like a champ. Not everyone can keep up with Mariela.

She laughed, tipping her head back to look at me.

—That’s because they trained him well at the lumberyard to carry weight —she joked, running her hand over my knee under the water—. But seriously, Damián, you surprised me.

—Tomorrow, when you see the old man, you’ll think about this and laugh to yourself —he added—. But total discretion. What happens in the motel stays in the motel.

Mariela turned in the water, facing me, and lowered her voice.

—Don Aurelio doesn’t need to know a thing. But I do want to know when your next free afternoon is.

***

That afternoon at the motel was only the beginning. What started as curiosity turned into a three-way habit. Mariela would look for me after I left the workshop, and he, far from getting annoyed, enjoyed organizing everything more and more each time. Over time, a strange complicity grew between us, with no nerves in it, made of pure trust and shared desire.

It all stopped abruptly when Mariela was diagnosed with a serious illness. Then we decided to cut it off cleanly so they could live their lives in peace. Luckily, she made a full recovery, but we never saw each other again in a motel room.

The fuse was lit, though. Those months left me hungry for more, and from then on I didn’t stand still: I went all in on that world of liberal couples, taking with me everything that woman and her man taught me one ordinary afternoon, when I was still just the boy counting screws behind a counter.