I Gave My Wife Permission, and One Night She Finally Used It

Almost a year ago I told Noelia that she had my permission to sleep with whoever she wanted. No conditions, no reproaches, no awkward questions the next day. I set her one rule, and it wasn’t even a requirement: I liked to watch. It didn’t matter how. It could be with me present, in a corner, or she could send me a video afterward, or call me live while it was happening.

—You’ve got a free pass —I told her that night, the two of us still naked and breathless—. With whoever you want, whenever you want, wherever you want. I just want to see it.

She laughed, kissed my shoulder, and said that sounded fine. More than fine. But the months went by and the moment never came, so the idea stayed there like one of those fantasies you repeat in bed to get yourself hot and that never quite come true. Every time we made love I reminded her, whispering in her ear how much it turned me on to imagine her with someone else, and she got wet instantly. But that was all.

Until that late-winter night.

***

I was already in bed, awake, waiting for her. It was after midnight and she still hadn’t come home from drinks with her coworkers. I had just ended a video call that had left my heart in my throat, and when she finally walked through the door, she came straight to the bedroom without stopping in the bathroom. She sat on the edge of the mattress, coat still on, smelling of other people’s cigarettes and something else. She knew I was desperate for her to tell me everything in detail.

The man was called Marcelo. He was in the sales department at her company, about ten years older than her, married, nothing special: neither handsome nor ugly, neither fat nor thin. She liked him, and that was enough. I’d never seen him in person and never asked about him; she’d chosen him and that was that. She’d been flirting with him at the office for weeks, she confessed while stroking me very slowly over the sheet.

—I’d sit astride the chair —she told me, smiling crookedly—, like I was riding a horse, and I’d run my hands over my thighs so he’d look. Even with my pants on, you could tell everything.

I could picture it perfectly. Noelia knows how to flirt like no one else: she puts her hand on your shoulder, brushes your arm like it’s accidental, gives you bedroom eyes, steers the conversation toward sex with a joke or a filthy comment. She does it with me, she’s done it in the liberal clubs we used to go to, and it always works.

—And him? —I asked, already breathing hard.

—He bit —she said—. Today, after the fourth beer, he asked me flat out what the hell I was up to with all that teasing.

***

She told me that in the bar she’d let it slip that she was very horny. That she laughed at his jokes, leaned in too close, said she got turned on easily. The usual. Marcelo, like everyone, knew she was married. What he didn’t know was that her husband had given her permission to do exactly what she was about to do.

When they left the bar, she told him she didn’t feel like taking the bus and asked if he’d give her a ride home. He, of course, said yes at once. They walked to the car almost without speaking, both of them a little nervous. Noelia confessed that by then she was wet just imagining what might happen. She has a lot of experience with casual sex, but always with strangers; never with a coworker. That made it twice as thrilling and twice as risky.

In the car, Marcelo was driving stiffly, making small talk, very different from the loose man at the bar. She needed a place, and she knew a gas station on the way with a car wash in the back, closed at that hour, dark and secluded. We’d stopped there before. So she pulled the oldest trick in the book.

—I think the beer’s upset my stomach —she said, putting a hand on her belly—. Would you mind stopping for a minute at the next gas station? I need some air.

—Of course, wherever you want —he replied, probably thinking with anything but his head.

She guided him to the back, behind the car wash, to the darkest corner of the lot, where no camera could reach. Marcelo turned off the engine and the lights. A heavy silence settled in. She got out for a second with the excuse of taking off her jacket, took a deep breath, and said to herself: now or never.

***

She got back in, settled into the seat, and opened her legs the way she did on the office chair, one thigh brushing the gearshift. Marcelo looked at her, not knowing what to do. It was obvious he wanted her, but the fear of making a mistake with a coworker had him paralyzed.

—You can stroke my leg —she told him—. It relaxes me a lot.

He obeyed, at first shyly, leaving his hand still on her thigh. This guy won’t make a move for nothing, she thought, and took his wrist to guide him. When he finally started running his hand up and down her leg, Noelia leaned her head back against the headrest and placed her own hand over the bulge straining his pants.

—I’ve fantasized about this moment a lot —she whispered, edging closer to his mouth.

—Oh, yeah? —he said, already wearing the smile of a man who knows he’s won.

She kissed him. At first they were short kisses, lips closed; then she opened her mouth and let Marcelo’s tongue find hers. They kissed like savages while their hands lost all shame. He slipped his hand under her T-shirt, pushed up her bra, and went for her breasts. She rubbed the hardness over his fabric and fought with the zipper, impossible to get down in that position.

As she told me this, I was already burning. I asked her to stop touching my cock, that I didn’t want to cum too soon; I wanted to save myself for when she sucked me with the same mouth she’d used on another man. But above all I wanted her to keep going, not skip a single detail.

***

Noelia got out of the car for a second, checked there was no one around, and in the darkness took off her shoes and pants. She climbed back in barefoot and in her underwear, the fabric soaked through, and curled up against him. Marcelo put his hand straight between her legs and she moaned as soon as she felt it. She pulled the fabric aside so he could touch her without barriers and leaned the seat back so she could open herself fully.

He kissed her neck, sucked her breasts, and slid one finger in slowly while she writhed. Noelia was already moaning uncontrollably in that dark corner, grabbing his head, asking for more. When she felt him playing lower too, she lifted her hips to give him everything. Then she asked him to take off his pants, and at last she had in front of her what she’d been looking for all night: a normal cock, hard, ready.

—Fuck me —she told him.

—I don’t have a condom —Marcelo answered, his voice broken with desire.

She didn’t have one either, and it wasn’t the time to go down to the shop and break the moment. So she smiled, gently pushed his head down, and told him:

—Eat me out.

He settled himself as best he could under the steering wheel and buried his face between her thighs. Noelia gripped the seat and started moaning loudly, not caring about anything anymore. She had one orgasm, then another, while he never stopped. When she felt him getting tired, she pulled him back up.

—Now fuck my mouth —she told him—. Like you’re fucking me.

***

Marcelo straightened up hunched over, bumping his back against the car roof, and positioned himself over her until his cock was level with her lips. She kissed it, licked it slowly, savoring the moment, and finally took it all in her mouth. He was moaning like a boy.

And then she stopped dead.

—I have to do something —she said.

—What? —he asked, bewildered.

—I want my husband to see us.

Marcelo went pale. She explained, as calmly as she could, that they had an open relationship and that her husband liked seeing her with other men. That she was going to make him a video call.

—I don’t want trouble with you or your wife —he said, frightened.

—Relax —Noelia soothed him—. Your face won’t show. He just wants to watch; he doesn’t care who you are. And I promise you this is going to turn him on like crazy.

Marcelo took a while to react, but he eventually gave in. She unlocked her phone, grabbed his cock again so he could get hard, and, without giving him time to regret it, dialed my number.

***

I was in bed watching videos on my phone when the call came in. “Hi, sweetheart!” I said. No answer. The screen opened on black, but from the sound and movement I understood right away what was happening: I could make out the silhouette of her head moving up and down, and the unmistakable panting of a man. She was inside a car, sucking someone off, and she was showing it to me live.

I froze. I hadn’t expected it to happen like that, all at once, after so many months. But hearing her calm breathing, I knew she was fine, that this was what she’d wanted for a year: she’d finally done it, and she was letting me watch. I pulled down my boxers and started touching myself.

—Turn on the interior light —I told her—. I want to see it properly.

She found the switch and, suddenly, the scene lit up. She glanced at the camera for a second and smiled wickedly, as if to say: here’s your fantasy, love. Then she grabbed the guy’s cock with one hand, held the phone with the other, and took it back into her mouth. I was seeing everything as if it were a movie made just for me.

—Tell me I’m a slut —I heard her say.

—You’re a slut —the man’s voice answered, hoarse.

—More. Tell me more.

—Yeeees! —I shouted from the bed, unable to hold back—. Show me how much of a slut you are!

She was smiling. She loved being called that. She moved her head faster and faster, pressing her lips against the shaft. The guy started shaking, convulsing, and warned he was about to cum.

—Give it to me in my mouth —she said, and turned the phone so I wouldn’t miss a thing.

She took his cock out, kept it pressed to her lips, and jerked him off with her tongue out, staring at me straight through the screen.

—Do you want to see your wife swallow it all? —she asked me.

—Yes! —I screamed, on the verge of blowing.

The man grunted and emptied himself onto her tongue. She held on, caught every drop, licked up the last traces, and opened her mouth to the camera to show me. Then, never taking her eyes off me, she closed her lips and swallowed.

—Very good, sweetheart —I told her, my voice breaking with pride—. You were incredible. I love you.

—And I love you —she replied, and ended the call.

***

I stayed in bed with my cock rock-hard in one hand and my phone in the other, wondering whether to finish myself off or wait for her. I decided to wait.

When she got home, she sat down beside me and told me everything. That Marcelo had driven her straight home, that they hadn’t agreed on anything specific, that at the office everything would go on as always. I took her by the nape and gave her a long, tongue-filled kiss, like never before. I wanted her to know how happy she had made me, I wanted to have her back, claim her, gather up with my mouth any trace that might still remain from that night.

—Now suck me off —I told her, lying down and taking my pants all the way off—. Just like you sucked that bastard off. And swallow it all.

She did it gladly, as happy as I was. She gave me the best blowjob of our lives, as always whenever it was just the two of us again after sharing. I came in her mouth and she tightened her lips so not a drop would fall.

That night we slept in each other’s arms, pressed close together, knowing she carried inside her the trace of two different men.

—What a shame there weren’t more —I said, smiling.

—Well —she replied, winking at me—, now that Marcelo’s in on it, we can always invite him over. And he can bring a friend.

—I’d like that very much —I told her—. You take care of organizing it.

Until next time.

A conspiratorial couple.