The Afternoon My Husband Gave Me to Another Man

Friday night.

—I want to see you with another man —Rodrigo told me, after he still couldn’t manage to keep an erection long enough to penetrate me that night.

—Whatever you want is fine with me —I answered, as I’ve answered his decisions so many other times.

And then, as I’ve done before, I got up and went to the bathroom to masturbate. While I was doing it, for the first time I imagined that, besides my husband, another man was making me his. I pictured him mature, with a few gray hairs and a classic belly, going in and out of me without rest, saying nothing but breathing hard. The fantasy turned me on like never before, and in a couple of minutes I had an intense orgasm, one I only became aware of when my own moans brought me back to the bathroom.

That night I tried to sleep, but the memories kept distracting me.

I thought about how Rodrigo is forty-nine and I’m thirty-nine. We’ve been married twenty-two years and I can’t complain about him. He is respectful, hardworking, faithful, neat to the point of obsession. His flaws were always the same: too devoted to work, too methodical, too routine in bed. Because he travels Monday through Friday, we got used to having sex only on weekends. Four years ago his dysfunction began, due to a health problem, and in the last two years the only thing I’ve gotten from him is oral sex.

I confided in a close friend.

—You’re lucky —she told me—. Sex is for them. How nice that you don’t have to put up with his heavy body on top of you anymore, sweating and huffing like an animal. Buy a vibrator and forget about it.

I couldn’t get her words out of my head, nor Rodrigo’s. I want to see you with another man. I wasn’t sure, but I felt like Pandora’s box was about to open.

***

Saturday morning.

After breakfast, Rodrigo asked me to go with him to the room we use as an office. He turned the laptop toward me.

—Does this look okay to you?

On the screen was an ad he had already posted on a well-known swap site: “Couple from Monterrey, 49 and 39, looking for a discreet gentleman for sex with her. Complete discretion, no commitment.” It was accompanied by a photo of me in a bikini and sunglasses, from our last trip to the coast. I don’t like to say it, but it showed off my white skin, my lightened long hair, my narrow waist, and although my breasts are modest, the rest makes up for it.

—Yes, it’s fine —I answered, flustered.

I wondered what kind of men would reply. And immediately my skin prickled and I felt myself getting wet despite not wanting to.

***

Saturday afternoon.

—Look —Rodrigo boasted proudly, showing me the results of the first eight hours.

I was surprised by the number of replies. He left me alone so I could go through them at my own pace. I read them one by one, and with each message my mouth dried out more and my breathing changed. There were men of all ages, from the city and from out of town, serious and jokey, tall and short, thin and stocky. Some were rude, others almost tender. I was stunned. And very wet.

I slipped my hand under my clothes and touched the entrance to my sex. I was amazed by how slick I was. I took off my underwear, spread my legs, and touched myself slowly, looking at what I like most about men in photos: their hands, their mouths, their gaze. The orgasm came quickly, short but intense.

Afterward I felt ashamed. It wasn’t possible for a woman like me, married, with two children in college, to let herself be carried away by thoughts like that. But they made me feel a pleasure I didn’t know.

I closed the screen, pulled myself together, and went downstairs.

—What did you think? Did you see anything you liked? —he asked, with a strange glint in his eyes.

—I’ll finish going through them later —I answered, pretending indifference, even though my legs were trembling as I walked.

***

That very night something unexpected happened. As soon as we got into bed, Rodrigo brought the subject up again, and doing so turned me on once more. The curious thing was that this time he did too, and against all odds he got an erection firm enough to penetrate me.

—I want another man to make you his —he murmured as he moved over me—. I want another man to caress you, kiss you, fuck you. It turns me on to imagine it. Would you do it for me?

—Yes, love. I’ll do whatever you ask —I managed to say before the wave covered both of us.

He didn’t speak again. He pulled out of me and within minutes was sleeping peacefully. Then I went back to the laptop to keep reviewing the profiles.

I ruled out many: those who lived far away, the conceited ones, the married ones, the ones with clumsy language. I was drawn to the ones who told you something about themselves. One finalist remained: he said he was single, a part-time professor at the university and a graduate student, athletic. He had a photo in a soccer uniform, light brown skin, tall, slim, big hands, a steady gaze, full lips. He didn’t mention the size of anything; he only described himself as young, experienced, and dirty-minded. His name was Diego. The only thing that didn’t convince me was his age.

I went to sleep wanting to dream about him.

***

Sunday morning.

During breakfast I told Rodrigo about my choice and my doubts about the age difference.

—The advantage of someone young is that he’s less complicated, more respectful, easier to handle —he said—. The downside is the lack of experience.

In the end I decided Diego was the best one.

—It would be good if you talked to him first, so he can tell you what he likes, ask you for a few more intimate photos —he suggested.

—No. It’s fine like this —I answered—. Just tell him I accept, and that it’s only going to be once. You arrange the details with him.

I preferred to discover him little by little, at the moment we met. It even seemed dirtier that way.

At noon, Rodrigo came back excited.

—He replied. He’s fine with us picking him up today at six, at the Universidad metro station, by the corner store. From there we’ll go to the Las Palmas motel. Does that work for you, love?

—Today? I thought it would be next weekend.

—I preferred today. Honestly, I thought that if more days went by you might change your mind.

—You know me well. You’re right.

***

I ate very little. I tried to nap without success. I did my nails, shaved my legs and pubic hair, filled the tub and took a long bubble bath. I chose a short black dress with straps and a generous neckline. Dark heels. I did my makeup provocatively, with false lashes and a very red lipstick. My hair loosely pinned up. Red thong and bra with black lace, and a good amount of perfume.

—You look stunning —Rodrigo said with sincere admiration.

We left allowing for the distance, because the place wasn’t close. While he drove, I felt my skin burning and turned the air conditioning all the way up. Neither of us spoke. To hide it, I put on music. When we reached the area where we would pick him up, my heart was pounding hard. “There he is,” Rodrigo said. I lowered my face and hid my eyes behind dark glasses: the less I saw him, the safer I felt.

***

A long, unforgettable Sunday afternoon.

Rodrigo went down to get him. They took almost ten minutes that felt eternal to me, until they came back with a few beers. To my surprise, my husband climbed into the back and Diego took the driver’s seat, starting the truck as if it were his. I looked at him in profile. He was much taller than I had imagined, his lips fuller, his hair curlier, his cologne carrying a strong marine note. And his voice, God, it was deep and masculine.

—Open me a beer —he ordered Rodrigo, who obeyed with a meekness I didn’t know he had—. And another one for her.

—She doesn’t drink beer —my husband stammered.

—Today is a special occasion. We have to celebrate.

They handed me the can. Diego turned toward me with a smile.

—Cheers, beautiful. You and I are going to have a very good time.

I felt my face burn. I took a sip to calm myself. His composure melted me; he radiated a confidence that made me feel, at the same time, intimidated and fragile.

My lack of practice and the speed with which I drank put a haze in my head. Suddenly we were already at the motel. Diego went in to inspect the room with the attitude of someone who had paid for it. The room was spacious, with a small kitchenette, a counter with high stools, a sofa, a large bed, and air conditioning, indispensable in this part of the country.

—Come here, sit next to me, sweetheart. I want to ask you a few questions —he said, and to my husband—: you, make yourself useful, open another one for me.

Being close to him made me nervous.

—How many boyfriends did you have before him?

—None —I answered, my voice trembling.

—And how many experiences with other men?

Embarrassed, I didn’t know how to answer, but Rodrigo did it for me.

—In her whole life. This is her first time with someone other than me.

—Only he’s had you? —Diego asked, surprised—. The only one, and now he can’t even get it up anymore. —He let out an easy laugh, with no malice.

—But I’m good at oral sex —my husband defended himself.

—Cheers to that —Diego said, and the three of us clinked our cans.

***

—You seem nervous, little one. Come on, let’s dance. Put something on —he ordered Rodrigo— salsa.

My husband complied and soon Idilio, by Willie Colón, was playing. Diego stood up and extended his huge hand to me. I smiled and took it. He danced very well, guiding me with elegant rhythm. By his side I looked small, despite the heels; my head barely reached his shoulder. At times I felt his arm around my waist, his body brushing mine, letting me breathe in his scent of fragrance and sweat.

Every so often I shivered without meaning to, and he would murmur in my ear:

—Relax. Nothing’s wrong. You’re just not used to it. Let go and trust me. I won’t do anything you won’t like.

His voice changed all the time: it could be rough and dominant, or soft and sweet. I only nodded and let my body move a little closer to his.

When the song ended, he asked for another beer and spoke to me softly.

—Now dance for me by yourself. Like you’re really horny. —And to my husband—: put on something slow.

He sat on the sofa. I don’t know what power began to work on me. I didn’t even look at Rodrigo. I started moving in front of Diego to a slow song, letting myself be carried by the alcohol, by his wicked smile, by his hypnotic gaze. I had forgotten he was thirteen years younger than me. At times I would move closer and hike my dress up almost to show my thong, or lower a strap and bare my shoulder, noticing how his gaze grew heavier. At one point I saw him adjust something under his pants.

When the song ended, he stretched out his hands, calling me, and sat me on one of his legs, squeezing my waist with his long arms. My smallness contrasted with his size; I looked like a doll. He called my husband over and the three of us toasted.

—You’re so sexy —he whispered in my ear—. I like them like this, like you.

—Like what? —I asked coquettishly.

—A respectable lady with her husband, but something else with her lover. Don’t play dumb: in public you’re very proper, but inside you’re starving.

His language surprised me, both for how crude it was and for saying it in front of Rodrigo, as if he enjoyed making him hear it. I turned to look at him: he lowered his head, red-faced, and I understood that those words aroused him just as much as they aroused me.

—I don’t understand how, with a body that hot, this man can’t get it up. If you were mine, I’d have you like this every night. —And he motioned to me—. Come closer. I’m going to show you how to make your wife come.

***

His mouth began tracing soft kisses along my neck, while one hand slipped under my bra and the other moved up my legs, under my dress.

—First you have to kiss her and touch her slowly —he explained to Rodrigo.

I don’t know at what point I stopped being ashamed that my husband was watching a stranger caress me. Diego’s tongue slipped into my ear and made me open my mouth and breathe deeply. He was a master. His fingers caught my nipple and squeezed it, giving me a pleasurable pain I had always longed for. Then he put two fingers in front of my mouth.

—Suck them. Cover them in saliva.

I did it, feeling a strange pleasure at having them inside me. When they were nice and wet, he took them to my sex and slowly rubbed my clit, while his tongue went all the way into my mouth. The concert of caresses drove me crazy, and waves of pleasure rose from my feet to my head, stronger and stronger each time.

—See how I take care of her? —he told my husband, who nodded with his mouth open, clearly excited to see his wife being used by another man—. Deep down she’s just a hungry woman. And you, a husband without the strength to be the man she needs. Am I right? —he asked me.

—Yes —I answered, panting.

—Yes what?

—Yes, I like what you do to me. Touching me between the legs, kissing me like that. I love the way you do it, Diego.

—And you also love the way I talk to you, right?

—Yes. My husband never did that. Hearing you turns me on.

He brought his fingers back to my entrance, playing at going in and out, while his mouth jumped from my neck to my nipples, tearing sounds from me that I couldn’t control. Just when everything was building, he pulled his hand away, leaving me desperate.

—Get on all fours on the sofa.

***

Everything happened very fast. While I was getting myself into position, he undid his pants. He moved my thong aside and, just like that, I felt him invading me. He was much longer, thicker, and harder than my husband’s. I couldn’t help a moan.

His hands gripped my hips so he could drive in and out in a steady rhythm, with soft but firm thrusts, all the way to the hilt.

—Your wife feels so good, you can tell you weren’t taking care of her —he said to Rodrigo—. She feels tight. She really needed it, didn’t she?

My husband remained motionless, like a child watching a magic show, unable to believe that a young man was fucking his wife without the slightest shame.

—Yes, Diego. I’m glad you agreed to come make her feel like a woman.

The answer seemed to embolden him. He gave me a loud slap on the ass that, by that point, aroused me more than it hurt. I moaned so he would know I liked it.

—So you like being punished?

—Yes. Hit me as much as you want.

His thrusts grew stronger and faster. His slaps were more constant and I was burning. He undid my hairstyle and grabbed my hair to pull me toward him while he fucked me. No one had ever used me like that, I had never reached such a level. Soon everything stopped making sense: I lost track of time, saw lights, felt jolts splitting from the center of my body through all my skin. I was trembling, sweating, moaning, and all I wanted was for that pleasurable torment to last forever.

Then his rough groans announced that he was coming. His body hardened, his cock throbbed, and my arms stopped supporting me. I collapsed forward convulsing. I felt his heavy body on top of me, sweating and huffing like an out-of-control animal, emptying itself deeply inside me. My friend’s phrase, the one I hadn’t been able to forget, was finally coming true, and it was exactly what I had needed all this time.

I don’t know how many minutes I stayed motionless, recovering, feeling soaked with him. Then Diego sat up, asked my husband for a tissue, cleaned himself, and straightened his clothes.

—Good —he told Rodrigo with a mocking smile—. Let’s see if now you can give your wife some good oral sex. After all, that’s the only thing you’re useful for.

He left the room and closed the door.

***

We were left alone, still inside the whirlwind. But both of us had crossed a line. Rodrigo looked at me, aroused.

—What do you want me to do, love?

Something had changed in me. Without a trace of blush, I answered:

—You already got told. Give me oral sex.

—Yes, my love —he said, and surrendered to licking me like a child who had just been given a prize.