The Day I Realized I Preferred Watching

There I was, sunk into the living-room sofa, a glass of sweating whisky between my fingers, watching my wife naked. Her hands were braced on the coffee table, her tits hanging, her ass up in the air, and her legs spread wide. She didn’t move a muscle. She waited.

Babá came in from the entryway, a guy we’d contacted a couple of days earlier. He was really well built, broad-shouldered, and he was gripping in his hand an erect cock of a size that seemed lifted from an exaggeration. He took a little Vaseline from the jar Marisol had deliberately left on the table. He smeared his dick, spread a bit more over her asshole, and, with not too much preamble, started working the cylinder into my wife’s tight cunt.

Marisol and I are a married couple well past forty. We’re more than comfortable financially and, until a few years ago, our sex life was thoroughly dull.

We came to a point where we realized we had everything in life except that spark that had been fading away for a thousand silly reasons. One of those Saturday nights, after a perfunctory fuck, we stayed up talking. For the first time in years we told each other our fantasies and admitted out loud that if we didn’t put some spice into the relationship we were going to end up throwing it overboard.

It took us a while to decide, but in the end we went to a liberal club.

The first time we only went to watch. We were surprised to see people fucking in front of us, a sight hardly anyone gets the chance to witness in their lifetime. We left happy, quiet in the car, with a strange urgency in our bodies and wanting to go back.

I remember the details of that first night: the dim reddish light, the low music, the smell of perfume mixed with sweat, the couples brushing against each other on the sofas as if no one could see them. Marisol squeezed my hand every time something new came into view. Neither of us dared touch anyone, but we left knowing that something had opened a door we were no longer going to be able to close.

The second time, while we were watching other couples, I dared to slip my hand behind Marisol’s pants and started masturbating her. She ended up coming in shudders and flailing movements without taking her eyes off what was happening in front of us. When we got home, we fucked like two horny teenagers in a hurry.

The third time, over drinks, we met a couple. The original plan was to go into a private room and have each person fuck their own partner, and that’s what we started doing. We never saw that couple again, but it marked a before and after for us.

The girl —Lorena, I think her name was— at one point started kissing Marisol. My wife didn’t shy away from the kisses, and soon she had her head buried between Lorena’s legs, a favor Lorena returned shortly after with the same devotion.

When the two of them finished playing, each of us fucked our woman while stealing glances at the other. It was one of the hottest things I remember from that time.

***

On the fourth visit we met another couple and, after going into the private room, we repeated the routine: each to his own, letting the women find each other, and before we knew it each of us was fucking the other man’s partner.

That was a real catharsis. I can’t say what I liked more, fucking that brunette with the long legs or watching Marisol get fucked hard by a cock quite a bit bigger than mine.

We kept going to different clubs and swapping with other couples. Sometimes I’d get lost in it, watching other men go into my wife; on one occasion I saw her double-penetrated by the other couple’s guy and by someone we’d invited into the scene.

Marisol went from being a conservative woman in bed to an insatiable lioness. As soon as she saw a pussy within reach she’d throw herself at licking it, and she even enjoyed being penetrated herself while her mouth was busy on another woman.

It was one day, stuck in a traffic jam on the way home from work, when I understood it all at once: I enjoyed watching other men fuck my wife more than being the one fucking another man’s wife. I sat there a good while with my hands on the wheel, taking it in.

The strangest thing was that, when I suggested that night to Marisol the idea of having other men fuck her in front of me while I only watched, she thought it was the most normal thing in the world. She said it the way someone comments on the weather.

—It was only a matter of time —she replied with a shrug—. I saw it coming.

I was surprised to discover she had already gotten there before I had.

***

From that moment on we stopped going to clubs that didn’t admit single men on weekends. We started deliberately frequenting the others, the ones where lone males were always prowling around, patient vultures waiting for prey.

The first time we proposed a threesome to a guy, the truth is I barely penetrated Marisol at all. I spent more time watching and jerking off slowly than taking part in the game. I realized that right there, sitting on a corner of the bed, was my place.

The second time I laid my cards on the table from the start. We talked to a guy we both liked, and I asked him straight out to fuck Marisol while I watched. That was a show, especially because the guy took the liberty of sodomizing her without it having been agreed. Marisol had the slightest objection. For the first time I saw my wife come while she was being fucked in the ass, and I had never seen her so out of control.

Since then it was she herself who, while on all fours, would pull the cock out of her cunt and guide it into her already loosened asshole. I loved watching different dicks go in and out of my lady’s ass while she pinned me with her gaze and her face changed with every thrust.

Eventually we got tired of the clubs and the comings and goings and started inviting the guys directly to the house. It was more comfortable, more intimate, and we could set our own rules.

The logistics became almost a domestic routine. Marisol chose the candidates from photos, chatted with them for a few days, confirmed the date. I prepared the living room: drew the curtains, left the jar of Vaseline on the table, poured my whisky, and chose my armchair, always the same one, at the angle from which everything could be seen best. She showered, perfumed herself, and put on some lingerie she would take off two minutes later. That waiting, the minutes before the doorbell rang, were for me almost as exciting as the rest.

***

On one occasion, to our surprise, instead of the guy we’d been chatting with, another man showed up, a very dark-skinned guy. It threw us off a little. Even Marisol made a face of rejection, because, even if she’d never admit it out loud, she carries certain prejudices.

In the end, her desire to be ridden outweighed her hesitation over who was going to do it.

That guy fucked her in every position and, as I expected, Marisol couldn’t hold back: she grabbed that shaft and shoved it into her own ass. She came out screaming, twisting her nipples with both hands, completely beyond control.

That night, once we were alone, we had a huge fuck while we relived it. Marisol, still breathless, whispered that very typical phrase people say in the United States into my ear.

—“When you go black you never come back” —she murmured, laughing—. Once you try it, there’s no going back.

From that night on, only young men with big bodies, ebony skin, and monstrous equipment came through our door. It became her preference, and I limited myself to pleasing her.

***

I drank slowly while Babá held my wife by the hips. With each thrust he advanced a little more, sinking his cock centimeter by centimeter until his balls were slapping against her body. Marisol was loving it like a crazy woman, her forehead pressed to the table and her mouth slightly open.

I took my cock out of my pants and started masturbating calmly. I never came in those sessions. I waited for her to be fucked over and over, stopping myself when I felt I was about to ejaculate and starting again once I’d calmed down. The pleasure was right there, in holding on right at the edge while someone else finished the job.

The arrangement with the guys was always the same: they fucked her and, once they were done, they didn’t say goodbye. They went back to the entryway, got dressed in silence, and left. No chatter, no lingering. That was our ritual.

That night, after they used her through every hole, Marisol collapsed on the living-room table, panting, her hair stuck to her face. I waited for the guy to leave. Then, as was my habit, I grabbed my wife by the ponytail, lifted her head, and shoved my hard cock into her mouth. She started sucking like they were about to forbid it.

Before I came I pulled it out. I lifted her carefully and carried her to bed, where at last I fucked her myself, slowly, remembering every image from the night. She was smiling with her eyes closed.

Some people need to be the protagonist. I was happy with the front row.