The Night I Shared My Wife with My Friend

Lucía had always been the most reserved woman at any gathering. Fair-skinned and brown-haired, slim, with a habit of lowering her eyes when the conversation turned raunchy that drove our friends crazy. We’d been married eleven years and she still blushed if someone told an off-color joke at the table. She said it was the fault of the nuns’ school where she’d studied half her life.

I knew her another way, of course. I knew that behind that shyness was a woman who came apart in bed, who came over and over and left me wrung dry. But that was our secret, something no one else suspected.

That night we’d organized a dinner at home. Three couples came, plus Adrián, my childhood friend, the group’s eternal bachelor. We’d known each other since we were kids and he’d always told me, half joking and half serious, that I’d been very lucky.

—With all due respect, brother, your wife is incredible —he’d say now and then, and I’d laugh without knowing what to answer.

The dinner was long and pleasant. White wine for them, rum and brandy for us. The women talking about children, the men about football. Then dessert, coffee, the cognacs. Lucía drank two glasses and I noticed she was different, looser, with flushed cheeks in a way I knew very well.

By midnight, two couples had said their goodbyes. One more remained, Carla and Marcos, newlyweds and always hot for each other, who spent the evening kissing and provoking us all. Carla danced in front of Adrián, tugged Lucía’s hand to get her to join in, but my wife resisted, laughing. Then the phone rang: Carla and Marcos were needed back home for the baby, and they left in a hurry.

That left the three of us.

***

Lucía, true to form, set about clearing the table. She never went to bed without leaving the kitchen spotless. Adrián and I kept drinking and pulled out a deck of cards to play a few hands while she finished. He told me, laughing, how hot Carla had kept him all night with her poses.

When Lucía came back, now in a robe and slippers, I poured her a glass of the sweet sparkling wine she loves. She drank it quickly and let out a sigh.

—So good, I can finally relax —she said, sinking into her chair—. What are you playing?

—Poker —Adrián answered with a crooked smile—. But strip poker.

She burst out laughing and, to my surprise, didn’t get up. Adrián dealt before I could say anything. She won the first hand; he got the worst of it and paid with his shoes. I lost the next one. This is going to get interesting, I thought, not yet knowing how far it would go.

After a long while, Adrián was down to his pants and I was in my underwear. Lucía hadn’t lost a thing and was laughing her head off. As punishment we made her drink another glass of the sparkling wine, and another, until luck changed sides.

She lost for the first time and took off her slippers. Lost again. We insisted she keep going, that she had plenty of clothes and we almost none. She fixed us with a long look.

—This is the last thing I’m taking off —she warned.

And she opened the robe.

***

Underneath, she was wearing a short white nightgown that left everything to the imagination, and tiny underwear in the same color. She was radiant, smiling, nervous. I felt a jolt low in my belly and knocked back half my glass in one swallow.

Adrián couldn’t take his eyes off her. And instead of making me uncomfortable, something strange started growing inside me. Lucía thrust out her chest as she leaned back in her chair, as if she liked being looked at with that hunger. If it doesn’t happen tonight, it never will, I thought. The idea aroused me more than I was willing to admit.

I dealt another hand and it was Adrián’s turn to lose. For the first time I saw him blush, hesitating.

—The one who invented the game is bailing now —I teased him.

He tipped back his glass, got to his feet, and pulled down his pants. He looked at me, as if asking permission. I nodded. He had nothing on underneath, and his erection ended up inches from my wife’s face, and her eyes went wide. She had never seen another man like that, especially not uncircumcised.

—Now what? —she asked me, not taking her eyes off it.

—Touch it, if you want —I said, and my own voice sounded strange to me.

Lucía looked at me one last time, seeking confirmation. I gave it. Then she took it in her hand, slowly, with an almost childlike curiosity, and began to move it. Her cheeks were burning. I couldn’t believe it: my reserved wife, the nuns’ school girl, jerking off my best friend in front of me, and me rock hard watching her do it.

When she bent down and ran her tongue over the tip, I felt a shiver race down my entire back. It was jealousy and desire at the same time, mixed into something I couldn’t name. I slid to the floor, crawled under the table between my wife’s legs, and pulled down her underwear. She spread her thighs without hesitation, giving me all the room I needed.

I started licking her while she kept attending to Adrián with her mouth. She was soaking wet, hotter than I had ever felt her. I heard her moan against him, felt him tense, and I knew she was coming the moment I grazed her with my tongue.

***

I came out from under the table and got her on her feet. She was like someone in a trance, letting herself be carried along. I took off her nightgown and she was completely naked. I turned her slowly so Adrián could look at her in full, and his eyes almost popped out of his head.

I held her from behind, my hands on her breasts, while he came closer and kissed her with a passion that tore a gasp from her. Lucía arched backward, braced against me, offering herself, kissing my neck and cheek at the same time as he lowered his mouth down her belly.

—This is your night —I whispered in her ear—. Enjoy it. Don’t hold back on anything.

She only answered me with a long, deep kiss, while Adrián knelt in front of her and opened her with his fingers. Lucía was trembling, letting out little spasms, moaning my name and his through clenched teeth.

I laid her down on the living room rug. I wanted to take her myself, but he wouldn’t move away, hungry. Without anyone fully deciding it, Adrián settled on top of her. He kissed her, spread her legs, and began to enter her very slowly.

The sight left me breathless. My wife is with another man, in my living room, in front of me. I felt jealousy, doubts, a thousand questions about what would happen with us after this. And underneath all of it, a brutal arousal I didn’t understand but didn’t want to stop.

I went over to the table, poured myself a drink, and watched them. He was moving slowly, savoring her, and she dug her nails into his back. They stayed like that for several minutes until Adrián panted that he couldn’t hold out any longer.

—Inside —she begged in a broken voice, and the two of them convulsed on the rug at the same time.

***

An instant later, Lucía looked for me with her eyes and opened her arms to me. Adrián ran to the bathroom. I went over and she hugged me. I entered her slowly; she was burning, slippery, different. An electrifying feeling ran through me, something new, a mix of kink and surrender I had never felt with her in twelve years.

—You feel huge —she whispered, and started coming in waves, squeezing me with those muscles I knew so well.

I let everything go at once, unable to stop, while she held me and kissed my face.

—Thank you —she told me, with a radiant, almost innocent smile, as if nothing that had happened before mattered.

And that contradiction melted me.

***

Later, the three of us caught our breath with a glass in hand. Adrián, uncomfortable, was the first to speak.

—I hope this doesn’t affect our friendship —he said, looking at me—. I’m sorry, brother.

—Don’t worry —I answered—. After tonight, we’re more than friends. I always knew something like this could happen.

Lucía let out a soft laugh and toasted with us. I asked her, now without filters, what had made her decide. She shrugged, wearing that enigmatic smile.

—I wanted to know what it felt like —she said—. And I wanted you to see it.

That answer told me more about my wife than eleven years of marriage ever had. The reserved girl from the nuns’ school had a curiosity I’d never dared wake up, and it turned out she only needed permission, one drink too many, and the look of someone she trusted.

Adrián raised his glass before getting dressed to leave.

—Being horny doesn’t cancel being decent —he said, and the three of us laughed.

We agreed to see each other the next day, with no rush this time, to eat what was left from dinner and watch football like any Sunday. When he came back, he did so with beers and a different mood, lighter, as if an invisible wall had broken between the three of us.

—What a night you gave us, Lucía —he teased, dropping into the sofa.

My wife walked past us in tight shorts and a smile that was no longer shy. Something had changed forever, and for once I didn’t feel afraid to find out what.

Since then, we’ve gotten along better than ever. The old jealousies, the ones that had been eating at me for no reason, dissolved in that dawn. I learned that truly knowing someone sometimes begins by daring to see them differently. And that my wife, the quiet one, the careful one, had been waiting all that time for someone to open the door for her.