The Club Where My Wife Stopped Being Mine Alone

We had talked about it so many times in bed, in the dark, with that low voice one reserves for the things one is afraid to desire, that when we finally crossed the club’s threshold neither of us needed to say a word. Lucía squeezed my hand once, hard, and let go. It was her way of reminding me of the agreement: I could stop everything with one word, and so could she, and as long as that word went unspoken, the night was hers.

The place was on the outskirts, unmarked, behind an iron door that only opened by appointment. Inside, it smelled of waxed wood and something sweet, like burnt vanilla. The lights were low, a thick amber, and the music reached us muffled from somewhere I couldn’t see. A woman greeted us, took our coats, and led us to a private room with worn leather sofas.

“Rubén is waiting for you,” she said, and vanished behind a curtain.

I knew Rubén by name before I knew his face. Lucía had mentioned him one night, months earlier, as if letting something forbidden slip to gauge the other person’s reaction. A man who ran that place, who had a reputation for reading women better than they read themselves. And I had said yes. I had said yes to everything, because that was what I did: give my consent and stay behind to watch the consequences.

Don’t fall in love with your own cowardice, I thought. What you feel isn’t fear; it’s the urge to watch them fuck her in front of you.

Rubén came in unhurriedly. Tall, broad-shouldered, with the calm of someone who never had to raise his voice. He greeted Lucía with a slow kiss on the cheek, too close to her mouth, and shook my hand firmly, with a smile that said everything.

“So you’re the husband,” he said, without letting go of my hand.

“That’s me.”

“I’ve been told you like watching them fuck your wife.”

I felt heat rising up my neck. Lucía watched me from the corner of her eye, waiting to see whether I would collapse or withstand the challenge. I withstood it.

“I do,” I replied.

“Then the three of us are going to have a good time. And you’re going to eat up every cock I put inside your wife with your eyes tonight.”

***

We sat down. A waitress brought a bottle of red wine and three glasses, then left, closing the curtain behind her. Rubén poured the wine and handed Lucía hers, brushing her fingers, looking at her as though I wasn’t there. And she held his gaze, that look I knew by heart and that was almost never meant for me.

“You’re prettier than they said,” he told her.

“And you talk too much,” she replied, amused.

Rubén gave a deep laugh. He placed a hand on her knee, over the black stocking that rose halfway up her thigh, and began to caress her slowly, without urgency, drawing circles that advanced an inch and retreated two. His fingers slipped beneath her skirt, climbed along the inside of her thigh, and didn’t stop until they brushed the lace over her pussy. Lucía took a sip of wine without looking away from him, but I saw her legs part slightly, saw her breathing falter when he moved the fabric aside and buried two fingers inside her at once.

“You’re already wet,” Rubén murmured. “Your husband doesn’t touch you like this, does he?”

“Not like you,” she replied, her voice hoarse.

I was sitting opposite them, on the edge of the sofa, forgotten glass in hand and my hard cock pressing against my fly.

“Are you going to sit there all night?” Rubén asked me without turning around, sliding his fingers in and out with an obscene slowness that made my wife’s wetness squelch.

“I’m going to stay right here all night,” I said.

“Good. I want you to see your wife as you’ve never seen her before. I want you to watch her come with another cock inside her.”

Lucía set her glass on the table. She stood, smoothed her skirt with a slow gesture, and instead of sitting back in her place, crossed the private room and settled astride his knees, facing me. She didn’t look at me. She slipped one arm around his neck, only one, and let the other hang loose at her side. And then she did look for me, just for a second, long enough to make sure I was watching.

I was watching. I couldn’t do anything else.

He kissed her. It was a long kiss, the kind that starts softly and turns into hunger, with tongues fighting outside their mouths so I could see it clearly. He ran his hand up her thigh to the edge of her stocking, played with the elastic, and with one pull tore her panties open at the side. Lucía moaned against his mouth when he buried three fingers deep inside her pussy and began fucking it with his wrist, while his thumb worked her clitoris in circles. She rubbed herself against his hand, moving her hips, and the short murmurs became long moans that drove into my guts.

This is what you wanted, I told myself. Look at her carefully. Don’t miss a thing.

***

“Take off your dress,” Rubén told her against her neck. “Show that fucking husband of yours what you’re going to give another man.”

Lucía straightened, reached behind her, and lowered the zipper with a slowness that was pure provocation. The dress fell away. Beneath it she wore almost nothing: a dark lace bra, her nipples already outlined beneath it, stockings, heels, and the torn panties hanging from one hip. She slipped them off with two fingers and let them fall to the floor. She stood in the middle of the private room, lit from the side by the amber light, and for a moment she looked like a woman who needed no one and needed everyone at once.

“Turn around,” he ordered. “Show him your ass.”

She obeyed slowly, swaying her hips, and I recognized every mole, every curve, every inch of skin that had been mine until that night and that, on that night, was deciding not to be. Rubén ran his eyes over her without touching, prolonging the wait, and when he finally drew her in by the waist, she was already trembling a little. He unclasped her bra with a pinch, and Lucía’s tits fell free, heavy, their nipples so hard it hurt to look at them. He took one into his mouth, sucked it hard, and with his other hand spread her buttocks so I could see the wet shine between her thighs.

“Do you see it?” he said to me. “She has no shame. She was saving it for someone who knew how to take it away. Look how her pussy is dripping.”

I wanted to answer him, to defend her, to defend myself, but the truth was there was nothing to defend. Lucía’s pussy gleamed wetly all the way to the insides of her thighs, and I was watching it from five feet away, my cock throbbing inside my trousers. Lucía knelt in front of him without being asked. She undid his belt, lowered his zipper, and pulled his cock out in one motion. It was thick, dark, veined, and my wife let out a sigh when she had it in her hand. She squeezed it, spat on it to lubricate it, and began.

I knew her inside out and still found it hard to recognize her. The way she swallowed him whole, until the tip touched the back of her throat and tears sprang to her eyes; the wet, filthy sound of his glans striking her palate; one hand rising to caress his balls, the other braced on his thigh. She pulled him from her mouth, dragged him across her cheeks, rubbed him over her saliva-filled lips, and took him back in, looking up so she wouldn’t miss his expression. Rubén threw his head back and let out a low growl.

“Fuck,” he said. “They weren’t lying. She sucks like a real whore.”

“She’s a whore,” I murmured without realizing it.

Lucía pulled his cock from her mouth for a second, panting, a strand of drool still connecting her lips to his glans, and looked at me with a dark smile.

“I’m your whore,” she said. “And tonight I’m everyone’s whore.”

And she swallowed him to the root again. My heart was pounding in my throat, and there was unbearable pressure beneath my clothes. Without thinking, I opened my fly, pulled out my cock, and began stroking it slowly as I watched her. This is absurd, I thought. I should be furious. But I wasn’t. I was nailed to the sofa, cock in hand, focused on the smallest detail: the gleam of saliva, the sway of her hair, the wet sound filling the silence of the private room, Rubén’s balls rising and falling against her chin.

***

The curtain opened. A man Rubén’s age entered, thinner, wearing an open shirt and an easy smile. Rubén didn’t even react.

“You’re right on time, Marco,” he said. “Let me introduce you to the girl from Madrid.”

Lucía looked up without letting go of the cock, met the newcomer with glassy eyes, and went back to what she was doing as if the interruption had nothing to do with her. Marco approached, greeted me with a nod, and sat on the armrest to watch.

“And this one?” he asked.

“The husband,” Rubén said. “He likes to watch. And he’s already jerking off. Look.”

“Good plan,” Marco laughed, lowering his trousers without ceremony. His cock was already hard, longer than Rubén’s though less thick, and he began to stroke it while watching my wife suck.

My face burned. Not from humiliation, or not only from that; it burned with something more confused, a mixture of jealousy and desire I couldn’t separate and didn’t want to separate. Lucía released Rubén with a smack of her lips, straightened a little, and turned her head toward Marco. One look was enough for her to understand. One movement of Rubén’s fingers on the back of her neck was enough for her to know what was expected of her.

“Come here,” she told Marco, in a voice I had never heard her use. “Give it to me.”

***

She lay down on the rug between the two men and spread her legs so Marco could see what was waiting for him. Marco knelt between her thighs, spat into his hand, rubbed the fake semen over his glans, and thrust all the way in with a single stroke. Lucía screamed. A sharp, startled cry, followed by a long gasp as he began pumping into her without giving her a moment’s relief. Rubén knelt beside her head and brought his cock to her lips.

“Open your mouth, slut.”

And Lucía opened it. She serviced them both at once, her mouth full of Rubén’s cock down to the back of her throat, her pussy opened by Marco’s thrusts. Every time Marco drove deep, the force pushed her head forward and Rubén’s cock sank farther down her throat. She choked, coughed, spat saliva, and swallowed him again without protest. Her tits shook with every thrust of his hips, nipples pointing toward the ceiling, and a thread of saliva ran from the corner of her mouth down her neck to her chest.

Rubén set the rhythm with his palm against her forehead; Marco, more impatient, held her hips with both hands and drove into her so hard that the wet smack of her pussy could be heard every time he pierced her. All four of them began moving at once, in a choreography no one had rehearsed and that nevertheless fit together: Rubén thrusting forcefully, Daniela arching beneath Lucía’s mouth, Marco kneeling to one side and stroking his cock with quickening breaths. And me, on the edge of the sofa, the sole spectator of a performance I myself had put her into, cock hard in my fist, not daring to come yet because I didn’t want to miss what came next.

“You’ve opened her ass up nicely,” Marco told Rubén. “Give her to me from behind.”

Rubén pulled out of Lucía’s pussy with a wet smack, spat into his hand, spread the fake semen over my wife’s asshole, and buried his thumb to the knuckle. Lucía moaned and pushed her hips backward, seeking him, and he smiled at me.

“Have you ever fucked her in the ass?” he asked.

“No,” I said, my voice broken.

“Then watch me open her up.”

And he did. He placed his glans against my wife’s clenched asshole and pushed slowly, entering inch by inch, while Lucía clung to Daniela’s thighs and released a very long moan, half pain, half pleasure, that pierced my eardrums. Once he was completely inside, he held still for a second, breathing hard, then began fucking her ass with the same cruel rhythm he had imposed on her pussy. Marco couldn’t hold out any longer. He stood, positioned himself in front of her, and fitted his cock into her mouth at the same time. They impaled her from both sides. My wife, my Lucía, impaled by two men at once, while I watched everything with my cock in my hand and unable to breathe.

“Switch places,” Rubén told Marco after a while, pulling out of Lucía’s ass with a tug. Her asshole remained open, red, pulsing.

Marco took his place without pause. He thrust his cock into her pussy in one stroke and continued at the same rhythm, while Rubén now offered his cock to my wife, the glans that had been inside her from behind, and she swallowed it without hesitation, sucking it to the base and cleaning it with her mouth. Lucía lifted her head for a second, panting, hair stuck to her face, chin covered in saliva, and sought me out. Are you all right? her eyes asked. I nodded. I couldn’t speak. My throat was closed, and an emotion I couldn’t name was passing through my chest, my cock on the verge of bursting in my hand. She smiled, a brief, fierce smile, and lowered her head between Daniela’s thighs again.

***

It lasted as long as this sort of thing lasts when one loses all sense of time. They changed positions several times, took turns, laughed, sought each other out. Daniela sat astride Lucía’s face and came, soaking her mouth, while Marco kept fucking her from behind. Lucía had two more orgasms, one with Marco inside her and another with Daniela’s tongue licking her clitoris while Rubén filled her mouth. At some point she got on top of Rubén, riding him, and Marco slipped in behind her to fuck her ass at the same time. Both men inside my wife at once, her screaming between them, Daniela’s hands squeezing her tits from the front.

Daniela ended up lying on her back with Lucía on top of her, the two of them kissing with their pussies pressed together, rubbing against each other while the men finished. Marco was first. He pulled out of my wife’s pussy, stroked himself twice, and came in thick spurts across her ass and back, groaning a contained roar. Rubén took longer. He stood, positioned himself in front of the two women, and ordered them to open their mouths and stick out their tongues. Lucía and Daniela obeyed, kneeling beside each other, tongues out and eyes closed, and he came, distributing his load across both faces: one jet for Lucía, running from her forehead to her chin, another for Daniela, who swallowed it in midair, and another over both their tongues together. When he finished, my wife had semen hanging from her eyelashes and a silly smile, and even so she turned toward me and showed me everything before swallowing it slowly. Then she leaned over to kiss Daniela, and the two of them passed the cum from mouth to mouth as if it were wine.

I came without touching myself again, cock exposed, watching them. A long, almost painful orgasm that stained my shirt and trousers and that I didn’t care about at all.

Rubén approached Lucía and caressed her back with a tenderness I hadn’t expected from him.

“Good girl,” he told her. “You behaved yourself.”

Lucía lay between the three of them, catching her breath, her skin gleaming with sweat and semen. Daniela whispered something in her ear that made her laugh. Marco dropped into an armchair. Rubén poured another glass and offered it to me first.

“Drink,” he said. “You’ve earned it.”

I accepted the glass. My hand was trembling a little.

“Well?” he asked me, sitting opposite. “Was it what you imagined?”

I looked at Lucía. She had sat up and was watching me from the floor, disheveled, naked, with semen drying on her breasts and that impossible-to-decipher expression she wore after crossing a boundary. I saw no shame. No guilt. I saw something like relief, and beneath it, very deep down, a spark that was for me and me alone.

“Better,” I said, and it was true.

***

We returned to the hotel in the early hours, in silence, our hands intertwined on the taxi seat. We didn’t need to talk. Sometimes desire opens doors that are difficult to close afterward, and we both knew that night we had opened one. The difference between us and so many other people was that we had opened it together, hand in hand, with a safe word neither of us had needed to use.

Once in the room, Lucía sat on the edge of the bed and slowly took off her stockings. She looked at me.

“Aren’t you jealous?” she asked, and for the first time that entire night she sounded uncertain.

“I’m jealous,” I replied, sitting beside her. “I’m insanely jealous. That’s why I like it so much.”

She laughed. She rested her head on my shoulder, and I noticed that she smelled of other men, of another woman, of someone else’s cum, of an entire night that was already ours and no one else’s.

“You’re very strange,” she said.

“I know.”

“So am I.”

I kissed her and pushed her onto her back on the bed. I spread her legs and lifted them over my shoulders. Her pussy was swollen, reddened, still dripping with everything they had done to her, and even so, when I buried my cock deep inside her, she moaned as though it were the first time. I fucked her slowly, looking into her eyes, feeling the way her used, opened pussy gripped me differently now. I licked her nipples, where traces of Rubén could still be made out, bit her neck where Marco had marked her, kissed the mouth that had sucked two cocks and drunk a load. She clung to my back with both hands and dug her nails into me, and when I came inside her with a growl, she came at the same time, arching her back, whispering my name—and only my name—in my ear.

And as I rolled her onto her side and held her from behind, my semen still mixing inside her with the other men’s, I understood that I hadn’t lost her at that club. On the contrary: I had never felt her so much mine as when I let her be, for a few hours, everyone’s.