My boyfriend fantasized about a wife swap

My name is Carolina, and I’ve been with Damián for almost two years. I’m slender, with firm legs and straight black hair that falls to the middle of my back. He isn’t much taller than me; there are barely three centimeters between us. He works at a car parts shop, and I work at a sportswear store, so our schedules never quite match up. Maybe that’s why, whenever we managed to see each other, we didn’t waste a single minute.

What we had was always intense. We’d go out dancing, have a few drinks, and end up at his apartment devouring each other. We had that strange kind of trust that lets you talk about anything without either of you feeling awkward, sex included. We sent each other photos, videos, things another couple would struggle to confess. I thought that openness was what made us strong.

It all started one night over drinks. We got back to his place laughing, and he suggested we watch a porn movie. I said yes, delighted, because we hadn’t touched each other in two weeks and I’d been building up a lot of desire. We lay down on his bed and he put on the video. It wasn’t just any scene: it was two couples who, in the middle of a gathering, decided to swap partners.

I was looking at the screen more out of curiosity than arousal, until Damián slid his hand between my legs. I reached for him in turn and found him rock hard.

—You’re really turned on —I whispered in his ear.

—Imagine the people on the screen are us —he replied.

I didn’t pay much attention. I was more focused on what his fingers were doing to me than on his words. But he kept insisting. In every position he repeated the same idea to me: that he was with someone else, that I was with another man. Every time he said it, something inside me locked up, a mix of rejection and filthy excitement I couldn’t quite understand. Still, I kept going until I felt the orgasm rising.

—Would you be brave enough to be with another man? —he whispered right then.

I was gasping, on the edge, and all that came out of my mouth was a long sound he took as a yes. It wasn’t a yes. It was my body closing around a pleasure that wouldn’t let me think.

***

Over the next few days, he brought it up again by message. Damián sent me videos of swaps, threesomes, couples sharing each other without guilt. At first I skipped through them, not giving them much importance, but persistence does its work quietly. By the second week I was receiving those videos without flinching, as if they were a normal part of our conversation.

One Saturday we went dancing and, after several drinks, he asked me outright whether I was capable of sleeping with another man while he watched. I told him I didn’t know, that I was scared of feeling like I was betraying him.

—It wouldn’t be betrayal if I did the same —he said—. It’s a fantasy I’ve had for a long time. Watching you enjoy yourself with another guy and enjoying another woman myself.

—I’m embarrassed for you to see me like that —I admitted—. And I don’t know what I’ll feel when I see you with someone else.

—Leave everything to me. If it bothers you to be in the same room, we’ll do it in separate rooms.

We talked until late. He wanted it with a clarity I lacked, and I, who always wanted to please him, ended up telling him yes. That I’d do anything to see him happy. Sometimes love gets confused with giving in.

***

Not even three days passed before he wrote me, excited: he’d found an experienced couple. I was surprised by how fast it happened. He sent me their photos and descriptions. Her name was Lorena, around thirty, blonde with chestnut highlights, light eyes, a fuller body than mine. He was Esteban, in his forties, solid, gym-built, with a few gray hairs showing. Damián pointed out, almost with borrowed pride, that Esteban was very well endowed.

That sentence kept turning over in my head. My boyfriend isn’t big and it had never bothered me, but something in the way he said it made me uncomfortable. I didn’t answer anything about Esteban. I only told him Lorena seemed beautiful to me.

That week Damián never stopped. He sent me photos and videos of the other couple, especially of Esteban, naked, showing himself off. He told me to look at them, to imagine myself with him, that Esteban had sent them to build my confidence. One night I got five videos from him. At first I opened them out of obligation. Then, once I was in my bed, I really watched them.

And something changed. In the darkness of my room I started imagining what my boyfriend kept repeating. What it would feel like to have that stranger, to let go, to be desired by someone who didn’t know me at all. Without even realizing it, my hand went down on its own. I ended up masturbating until I had no strength left, shocked by myself. That was the first time the fantasy stopped belonging to Damián and started to become a little bit mine.

***

The agreed Saturday came quickly. I put on a black pleated skirt, my most comfortable underwear, a pink blouse, and a lace bra. I wanted to please myself before anyone else. Damián and I arrived at the nightclub at eight, and a few minutes later Lorena and Esteban showed up.

The conversation flowed naturally. Esteban was charming, he told stories that made us laugh, and drink by drink our trust came together as if we’d known each other for years. We went out dancing. At one point Damián suggested swapping partners and Lorena accepted happily. I danced with Esteban while I watched my boyfriend disappear into the crowd with her.

Esteban didn’t take his attention off me. He talked in my ear, praised me, held my waist with a confidence I wasn’t used to feeling. When we went back to the table, Damián returned hand in hand with Lorena, both of them laughing. Something in my chest tightened, but I told myself it was logical, that that was why we were there. If he was enjoying himself, why shouldn’t I?

Close to eleven, Esteban suggested continuing the party at his place. Damián agreed at once, delighted. I said nothing, but the alcohol had already loosened my defenses and Esteban’s words had done their work.

—Tonight I hope I get to fulfill that fantasy of yours —he told me as we got into the car—. And don’t worry about your boyfriend. Lorena is going to take care of him.

***

In the living room of his house they poured us more drinks. Esteban sat beside me; Damián ended up on the other sofa with Lorena. I saw my boyfriend relaxed, smiling, and convinced myself everything was fine. Esteban put a hand on my leg and started stroking it. I rested mine over his, as if to tell him he had my permission. With every touch and every word in my ear, heat started climbing through my body.

On the other side, Damián and Lorena were already kissing. I saw him squeeze her breast, run his hands over her entire body. Esteban took advantage of that moment to find my mouth. We melted into a long kiss, his tongue tangling with mine, his hand forcing its way between my legs until he found me already wet. My fingers went to his crotch and I confirmed what the photos had promised.

—Let’s go to a room —he told me.

In my state, with my whole body begging for it, I said yes. Esteban said we were stepping away, and Lorena, without separating from my boyfriend, commented that there were condoms in the bedrooms. I walked toward the room without looking back.

***

As soon as we closed the door, Esteban kissed me like he wanted to devour me whole. I answered just as desperately. I fumbled with his trousers, undoing them with urgent hands while he took off my blouse and skirt. He grabbed my ass, squeezed it, and I wanted it to happen right then, without delay.

I knelt in front of him. I wanted to see him up close, to confirm in person what I had seen so many nights on a screen. I took him in my hand, stroked him, put him in my mouth. I heard him groan, heard the breath leave him in a rush, and that turned me on even more. The room filled with sounds I didn’t recognize as my own.

For a second I thought of Damián, that on the other side of the wall he would be doing the same with Lorena, finally fulfilling his fantasy. That thought, far from stopping me, pushed me on.

Esteban lifted me up, threw me onto the bed, and went down. He spread my legs and started working me with his tongue, patient, until he dragged an orgasm out of me that bent my back. I had never felt anything so intense. My body trembled in spasms and the screams that came out of me must have been heard throughout the whole house.

He gave me no rest. He put my legs over his shoulders and entered me slowly, filling me little by little until he had all of me. Then he started moving with a force that made me cry out without shame.

—Like that, don’t stop —I begged, not recognizing my own voice.

I rode him after that, mounting him with all my weight, letting myself fall all the way down with every movement. Another orgasm came, and another, one on top of the next, until I lost count. He put me on all fours at the edge of the bed and fucked me standing up, and I moaned without caring who might hear me. At some point I felt him harden even more and come out with a hoarse shout, sinking all the way in.

I don’t know how many hours passed. I collapsed on his chest, exhausted, while he stroked my face. Only then did I remember Damián again, in the other room, living out his own night.

***

When Esteban looked at the clock, it was nearly nine in the morning. We got dressed in complicit silence. We left the room and there was my boyfriend, sitting in the living room beside Lorena, with a look I had never seen on him before. Pale, wrecked, as if he wanted to disappear. I was left speechless.

—I want us to leave right now —he snapped in a hard voice—. We never should have come. And I never want to see either of you again in my life.

He grabbed my arm roughly and dragged me toward the exit. I asked him what was wrong, why he was reacting like that, but he didn’t answer until we got to his place. There he broke down. He started crying and called me shameless, unfaithful, told me I hadn’t thought about what he might be feeling.

—I don’t understand what you’re talking about —I answered him—. It was your idea. It was your fantasy. And at midnight you were happy with Lorena.

—Happy —he repeated with contempt—. I spent the whole night in front of your bedroom door, listening to you moan, hearing you ask for more, hearing you tell him not to stop. Every scream of yours I had burned into me right here.

I went cold. Then I got the truth out of him little by little. After Esteban and I locked ourselves in, he went with Lorena to the other room. He put on the condom, got on top of her with all the built-up anxiety, and finished almost immediately. Excitement turned into shame and he couldn’t recover from it. Lorena, seeing him fall apart, asked him to wait outside while she slept. And he spent the rest of the early morning on the other side of my wall, hearing everything.

—Damián —I told him, exhausted—, I’m not to blame for what happened to you. This fantasy wasn’t mine. You came up with it, you looked for them, you insisted until I gave in. Don’t dump on me what you couldn’t handle.

I gathered my things and left. He stayed behind crying, repeating that I had betrayed him, without admitting that it had been his own desire that turned against him.

My name is Carolina, and this was the night I wished I hadn’t lived through and, at the same time, I still can’t quite regret. Damián and I are still talking, trying to understand what was left of us after that dawn. I’ll tell you how it all goes later.