The Neighboring Bungalow and an Unexpected Swap

We decided to take a break for our twentieth wedding anniversary. And though no one believes me when I tell them, we hadn’t taken a trip alone, not even for a weekend, since the second year of our marriage, before our first child was born.

I could start by making up a description of us to get you warmed up, but the truth is we’re a pretty ordinary couple.

My wife, Marina, is forty-three, with a few extra pounds, like almost all women her age. Though I have to confess that, lucky for me, most of those pounds went to her tits and ass, so today she’s much more satisfying for my hands and mouth to eat out than she was years ago.

I’m a normal guy of almost fifty. I’ve gone a little bald and I wear an unkempt beard, but I never stopped going to the gym twice a week, so beneath the fat that the years pile on, there’s still a firm body.

We chose the beach, an adults-only hotel on the Caribbean coast, to spend our anniversary. For what it’s worth, we both went on an extreme diet for the three weeks before the trip so we’d look good in the photos, so we were in a somewhat better shape than usual.

From the first day we noticed that, except for a couple of newlywed couples, most of the guests were older people, with neglected bodies, with not the slightest shame about showing themselves as they were. A couple of women in their fifties even walked around with their tits out. That, maybe, gave us a little more confidence.

—Look! —Marina told me excitedly as she leafed through a brochure in the room—. There’s a couples’ relaxing massage service. Sounds good, right? Should I book it?

I assumed she didn’t have the same experience I did, but I couldn’t stop all those massage videos that end in much more entertaining things from coming to mind—ones I’d watched in my downtime. So, jokingly, I told her to put on pretty underwear in case the masseur stripped her and ate her out while I got distracted. She laughed and, in the same tone, answered that maybe she’d go without anything, to save the masseur time.

The jokes put us in the mood. While we walked among the bungalows toward the spa, my head built stories in which the masseuse—a knockout girl, of course—ended up having sex with me while a sweaty fat man took care of my wife. Of course, in Marina’s mind that fat man had to be a well-endowed bodybuilder, and my knockout girl, a seventy-year-old lady.

When we entered the spa, my fantasies evaporated. It wasn’t a granny or a greasy fat guy: the masseurs were a young couple, local-looking, both very short. Pretty ordinary and unremarkable.

But the interesting part wasn’t the masseurs.

The couple from the previous session was just finishing up. Sitting on the massage table, wearing a huge smile, was a woman about sixty, robust, wearing only a white lace panty and with a pair of big, sagging tits out in the open.

In front of her, her husband—or so we assumed—a thin man of the same age, stood up with the world’s greatest naturalness, turned toward us, and greeted us in English. What made the scene anything but normal was that the man was completely naked.

A flabby belly, topped by a bush of whitish hair, swayed back and forth under Marina’s stunned gaze while they both gathered their clothes and dressed without the slightest hurry.

—Younger couple —the man told his wife—. Guess these masseurs will have more fun with them than they had with us.

Does he think we don’t understand?, I thought as I watched them approach.

—Fun? —she answered—. Fun is what I'd have if you let me play with this piece of meat —and she ran her eyes from my feet to my head.

They left the spa and left us speechless, looking at each other.

—Sorry —the masseur said—. This happens to us from time to time. They’re swingers, as you probably already figured out, and what you just experienced is what we lived through for a whole hour, besides having to see them naked the whole time.

—And what happened? —I asked.

—Nothing —he said—. They stripped off all their clothes as soon as they arrived and the guy stayed turned on the whole massage. Right? —he asked his partner, who only raised her eyebrows and frowned while changing the sheets on the tables.

Nothing at all happened during the massage, if that’s what you expected to read. But at least I, for the whole hour, couldn’t get the image out of my head of how that couple, who had nothing attractive about them, could be so bold, with not the slightest care for the reactions they provoked. So different from us.

***

We left relaxed and ready to go back to the room and keep unloading the stress onto each other.

—I can’t get them out of my head —Marina told me in a low voice as we walked through the dark among the bungalows.

—What are you talking about?

—Them. The couple who were there before us. You turn around to change so you don’t show me your balls, I come out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel so you don’t see the tits you’ve known for twenty years, and those two were there, naked as if nothing, and looking for action on top of that.

I was about to answer that I was thinking exactly the same thing when, a few meters away, we heard a “hello, friends” with a marked American accent.

On the balcony of their room, a few steps from us, was the guy from the spa. And in case we had forgotten the details, he was naked again.

—Come to the party! —he managed to say, just as his wife came out, again with her tits out, but now without the panty on top.

I looked at Marina, and she held my gaze for a few seconds.

—There’s more people inside —I said quietly.

—Yes —she answered—. You can see silhouettes through the window.

—Look, look! —the guy insisted, pointing toward the inside of the bungalow.

And before we knew it, the two of us were slowly walking toward them, pushed by a tremendous curiosity.

As we got closer, we made out more details. Music was playing and, behind the curtains, silhouettes were dancing. A middle-aged man, much better groomed and more attractive than the one on the balcony, came out to receive his wife, completely naked, took her by the hand, and led her back in to dance.

—What is this? —Marina asked me under her breath.

—Well, apparently it’s a swinger party right in the vacation hotel.

The door opened in front of us as if granting access to Noah’s ark. There had to be at least twenty couples, and inside there was a diversity of shapes and ages.

It was impossible for your eyes not to go first to a guy who must have weighed at least three hundred fifty pounds, completely naked, with a cock the size of a child’s hanging lost among all that drooping flesh.

At the other end, a woman—perhaps the youngest and most attractive one there—was dancing wearing only the bottom of her bikini, her tits bouncing in the open air. She was accompanied by a somewhat older man with an enormous member, and the first thing I thought when I saw him was: now I see why he landed the hottest woman at the party.

The women were more modest; almost all of them kept at least their panties on. I counted about five more in the area they’d set up as a dance floor, several accompanied by elderly men and bodies of all kinds moving to the music. That said: for the men, being naked seemed to be a requirement.

On the couches were the luckiest ones, or the most skilled, because almost all of them were already “accompanied,” so to speak, with hands roaming over women’s bodies who let themselves be pampered. And in the back, on the farthest couch, one couple was ahead of the rest: they were kissing passionately and starting to settle in for what promised to be a public sex session.

The trance we were in was broken by a familiar voice.

—Mr. and Mrs. Salgado, what a surprise! Welcome.

It was Hernán, the hotel manager, who a couple of days earlier had introduced himself and put himself at our disposal “for whatever we needed.” Now it was crystal clear to me that he’d come to sound us out. His only distinguishing feature was a tuxedo bow tie around his neck; from there down, nothing, just like the rest of the men.

—All that’s asked here is respect —Hernán told us—. Anything you want to do, with the other person’s consent, is welcome. The clothes you want to take off, you can leave in that cabinet —and he pointed to a dresser in the hallway.

—Take off your clothes —Marina whispered in my ear.

—Are you crazy? —I answered—. Let’s get out of here.

But she looked at me fixedly and, without saying a word, began to undress until she was left only in the tiny pink thong she’d put on in case she had to get naked for the massage.

—What do we lose by staying to watch? —she asked while unhooking her bra.

We started attracting looks on our way to the dresser. To my misfortune, only the older women looked at me lustfully. Marina, on the other hand, drew every man’s gaze regardless of age, with those natural tits with pink nipples bouncing with every step and the plump ass spilling out the sides of the thong.

—I’m never forgiving you for this —I told her in her ear after putting our clothes in a drawer—. What’s so good about this? It’s all horny old couples.

I was about to go back for my clothes when the roles reversed.

I don’t know at what point the young woman dancing with the well-endowed guy fixed her eyes on me. She left her partner behind and started walking toward me, running her gaze over me from head to toe as she moved to the rhythm of the music.

Without even looking at Marina, she planted herself in front of us and, with a smile, started squeezing my chest, like a teenager the first time he has a naked woman in front of him, never taking her eyes off mine.

I let her go on for a few seconds but, when she got no response from me, she went back to dancing with her partner.

—Was that what you wanted? —I asked Marina.

She didn’t move a muscle in her face. She just said:

—Let’s sit over there.

***

We sat on a free couch next to a mismatched couple: a robust woman of about twenty-five beside a man of at least sixty, whom she was rubbing with determination, unable to wake his cock up while he groped her tits delicately.

Marina seemed hypnotized. She looked first at the man, frowning, then spent long stretches staring at the young girl and her well-endowed companion, who were already beginning to rub against each other.

I didn’t know whether that was normal for a “first time,” but as the minutes went by, I acclimated. Little by little I stopped feeling bothered and started enjoying the show, even feeling a slight erection as I scanned the female bodies in front of me.

When I was paying the least attention to my wife, I felt her left hand settle on my thigh. The moment I lowered my gaze, that hand was already climbing to grab my cock and start playing with it without even looking at what she was doing.

My package grew. And so did Marina’s intensity.

We started drawing the attention of some of the guests, who surely didn’t know we were a couple and assumed I was the lucky one that night.

The first to act was a guy I hadn’t even seen. He came out from the rooms in the back and headed straight toward us, shaking a short, thick cock to wake it from its slumber. He stopped right in front of Marina and fixed his gaze on how she was jerking me off. In just a few seconds the member took shape, and the man started stroking it while enjoying the show.

My wife’s caresses turned into firm tugs. There came a moment when she synced up with the guy, who then stopped looking at my package and fixed his eyes on her, while Marina kept her eyes on him stroking himself.

When the man intensified the movement and started making faces, Marina stopped and signaled him to stop with her hand. I felt relief: I was sure it was only a matter of time before he drenched us both in cum.

—Do you feel calmer? —she whispered in my ear.

And no matter how much I tried to act indignant again, I couldn’t stop myself from answering yes.

It’s her fault, I thought while my eyes roamed over all the bodies in the place, no longer out of curiosity, but scanning which one I wanted to grope most. This is Marina’s fault.

I stood up with my cock completely erect, and apparently that was a call to the opposite sex. Two women left the dance floor and focused on my package, ready to come closer. But before they could, a hand from who-knows-where gripped me firmly.

I looked down. It was the robust girl, who had given up trying to wake up her partner and took advantage of the closeness to seize the moment. Then I looked at Marina: she had that hypnotized expression again as she watched another woman touching me.

The girl sat down behind me. I felt her big, soft tits against my ass as she wrapped her arms around me, jerking me off with one hand and playing with my balls with the other.

I became the attraction of the moment. I felt dozens of eyes: women evaluating the quality of the girl’s work and men looking at me with envy because, while they were dancing alone, I was already being “taken care of.”

When I was enjoying it the most, I saw Marina get up and walk toward the kitchen, leaving me without looking back. Maybe so she wouldn’t have to watch someone else finish milking me, or maybe to go look for action and not fall behind.

I lost sight of her just before I felt someone pull me.

The girl had let go of my cock and was trying to turn my body so I’d stop looking for my wife and face her instead. My perspective changed: in front of me was that woman with prominent curves, spread wide on the couch, and beside her the sixty-year-old, who was now trying on his own to revive his flaccid member while looking at us.

Without giving me time to decide anything else, the girl grabbed my cock and put it in her mouth, giving me an incredible blowjob, with skill far beyond her hands and, sadly, much greater than my wife’s.

I enjoyed it. Damn right I enjoyed it! But no matter how much I wanted to fill her mouth, I had to stop her so I wouldn’t be the first to put on an extra show that night.

And Marina?, I thought when the girl sat up. Before I could look for her, she told me in English, in my ear, that she wanted to go to a room.

—I want to go with you too —I answered—, but first I need to find my wife.

She smiled and simply replied:

—I’ll take you where your wife is.

***

She took me by the hand and walked toward the rooms. I looked at her properly along the way. No, she was by no means a woman I would’ve cheated on Marina with in another situation, but, what the hell! We’re already in this.

She stopped in front of a closed door, looked at me for a few seconds with a hint of pity, and whispered in my ear:

—Your wife came in here.

I felt my body ignite from within. In my stupidity I’d believed the girl was using that pretext to drag me into a room. But if she really had seen Marina come in here while she was taking care of me, then it was a fact that she wouldn’t be alone.

Filled with rage, I grabbed the knob and turned it thinking it would be locked. The room was open.

There were three couples inside who didn’t even flinch when they heard the door.

On the floor was Hernán, lying on his back, with a white-haired woman riding him hard while she moaned with singular pleasure. On the couch, a couple about our age was rolling around and groping each other at will, both with their tongues out to lick any part of the other’s body that came within reach.

And on the bed. On a big bed worthy of a suite, was my wife.

Marina lay on her back, both hands on her head, just like she did when I already had her worked up good. She had taken off the thong—God knows where she left it—had her legs spread wide open and, between them, a blond man with a big ass was eating her out with the intensity of a child devouring an ice cream in the middle of summer.

—That's my wife —I told the girl, frozen before the scene.

—And that —she answered— is my husband.

I looked at her in surprise, and she smiled back. Then she simply took my hand and said:

—Let's join them.

***

We got onto the same bed. The movement jolted Marina out of her trance and, when she realized it was me, she slammed her legs shut in her friend’s face.

The girl looked at my wife with a smile, took her hand, and brought it to my body, as if telling her to touch me while her husband took care of her.

Marina’s eyes were still wide open, fixed on mine. I don’t know: maybe she was asking permission to continue, or forgiveness for what she was doing. Even so, little by little she loosened her legs and let the blond man push his face back between them.

Her hand squeezing my chest confirmed she was enjoying it again. And while she did, she started stroking me all over, as if she didn’t know my body, as if it were a new one to enjoy.

Meanwhile, my cock went back into our partner’s mouth, and she leaned in to do to me the same thing her husband was doing to Marina. On autopilot, my left hand found one of my wife’s tits and started massaging it.

Within minutes we lost all composure. Marina ended up on her side, with the guy burying his face and hands between her ass cheeks, eating whatever hole of hers you want to imagine. I switched between tits, going from my wife’s to my friend’s, though with her moving around it got harder and harder to reach them.

In seconds, our friend set up a sixty-nine, swinging her legs over me and leaving a huge ass in front of my face that Marina kept watching closely. In my desperation I shoved my thumb in all at once; the woman shuddered and started writhing while I moved it inside her.

What the hell, if we’re already in this!, I thought again. And while I thought it, I lifted my face and buried it between those voluminous cheeks, licking and gently biting all the flesh available to me.

I couldn’t see anything, for obvious reasons, but I felt movement beside us; Marina was surely changing positions to get pleasure in another way.

I took advantage of a second in which my friend pulled my cock out of her mouth to pull my face out of her ass. The moment I turned my head, I thought: Well, look at that. She won’t eat me out unless I’ve just showered, and now she’s happily taking a cock that God knows where it’s been stuffed half an hour ago.

The guy was on his knees, hands on his hips, and Marina, bent over in front of him, was eating that cock with such gusto it looked as if it were covered in chocolate.

—She likes it! —the girl told me, excited to see another woman devouring her husband.

Does she?, I thought while I watched the scene beside my plump friend.

Suddenly, with a confidence that made it seem like this wasn’t her first time, Marina jumped off the bed, went to the dresser, opened a drawer, and took out a couple of condoms. She opened one with her mouth, spat the wrapper aside, and started putting it on me.

The blond guy, seeing what she was doing, accepted the other condom with a surprised look on his face.

What are you doing?, I was thinking, as if she could hear me, while I watched her take the plastic out of the wrapper and put it on, gently, almost affectionately, on her little friend.

The woman laid me back on my back and positioned her bulky body over me, just inches from being penetrated. The blond man took Marina by the waist and got her on all fours, right beside me, and positioned himself behind her.

Marina looked at me, and the hypnotized expression had returned. Her eyes were on mine, but her mind was who knows where.

A second later, or maybe two, her eyes went to the wall and her mouth opened in a soft moan, letting me know that, for the first time since we’d known each other—or at least that’s what I want to believe—a cock that wasn’t mine had just entered her.

I didn’t have time to react when I felt the girl lower herself onto me and my cock slide inside her.

Marina rested her face on the pillow, looking straight at me. Then she stretched out one arm and took my hand.

I don’t know how long it lasted. I only remember her face moving with every thrust of the pelvis she was getting from behind, her eyes fixed on mine but her mind somewhere else. I saw all her expressions, the ones I knew by heart: discomfort, satisfaction, pain, calm, excitement. And after a while, I don’t know if only I noticed it, orgasm.

When I saw her eyes drift away, I let the stored-up load go, and the two of us squeezed each other’s hands at the same time.

***

When they were done, they kissed on the mouth and went together into the bathroom of the room.

—Is there no one left? —I asked Marina, both of us still sprawled on the bed.

She lifted her head and answered no, that she didn’t know when the other couples had left.

—Did you like it? —I asked with a certain note of doubt.

And she simply answered yes.

We didn’t speak on the way back, nor during the shower we took together in our room, maybe because neither of us wanted to wait to get a stranger’s sweat off our bodies.

Marina took her pajamas, looked at them, and let them fall to the floor to lie down completely naked, something she hadn’t done since our honeymoon. And I went in after her.

We slept with the deep sleep of a child after spending the whole day playing in the street. In the morning, when I opened my eyes, Marina was staring at me.

I expected a “good morning, love,” but instead I got:

—We need to do this from time to time.

To which I simply replied:

—Definitely, yes.