The Night We Swapped Partners at the Country House

My name is Mateo and, when all this happened, I was about to turn thirty. I had been married to Renata for four years, and she was, and still is, the woman of my life. What I’m going to tell changed us completely, and even today I still don’t know whether it was for the better or for the worse. I’m writing it as if it cost me nothing, but my hands are shaking.

We’re from Medellín. Renata is reserved, elegant, one of those women who would die of embarrassment if she knew I was telling this. Tall, with light brown straight hair, a well-kept body, and a way of moving that seems to apologize for being so desirable. I was always the one who insisted that she loosen up a little in bed. She almost never gave in.

For the weekend before the holidays, we had booked a country house on the outskirts of Anapoima. The owner lived on the ground floor and let us have the upstairs: two bedrooms, a huge living room with a fireplace, a picture window overlooking the mountains, and a separate entrance. The plan was to spend two days alone. I had even bought lingerie for her, planning a night when she would finally be in the mood to give me a striptease.

The problem was a year-end party at Renata’s company. We ended up at the table with Aníbal, a coworker of hers, and his wife Tamara. I never liked Aníbal: short, stocky, bald, with that smooth-talking confidence of someone who says whatever he wants without thinking about the consequences. Renata always swore she couldn’t stand him, that they only talked about work. Tamara, by contrast, was quiet, dark-skinned, with curly hair and a body her apparent shyness could not hide. I danced with her that night and found her charming.

Between the drinks and the euphoria, Renata made the foolish mistake of telling them about the country house and, in a purely drunken show of politeness, invited them. I thought they would never take it seriously. I was wrong. On Friday Renata confirmed that the four of us would go in Aníbal’s car. At least we wouldn’t have to haul my motorcycle loaded with bags.

***

We left after lunch. The road was clear and we arrived before nightfall. When we unloaded the suitcases, Aníbal accidentally picked up one of my bags that had fallen: inside was the lingerie I had bought for Renata. I had to confess my plan so he wouldn’t give it away. He thought it was a brilliant idea and, before I could object, said he would buy something just like it for Tamara. I made it clear that the red set was for my wife; the other, more daring one, he could choose himself. He didn’t care.

The night started well. We lit the fireplace, opened a bottle of whisky, and the ice between Renata and Aníbal melted faster than I would have liked. Tamara, for her part, loosened up with me. I was grateful for that, because watching my wife laugh at every one of Aníbal’s jokes made my blood boil. We kept pouring drinks, her and me, each of us jealous of the other without saying it.

Then Aníbal let his tongue run completely free and revealed the secret of the two bags. With a shamelessness that froze me, he said the idea was for the women to put on the lingerie and model it for us that very night. Renata turned red. I couldn’t manage a word.

—And doesn’t it bother you that Mateo sees your wife half naked? —Tamara asked Aníbal, amused.

He shrugged with a filthy grin. Renata looked to me, waiting for me to say something. I said nothing. I was speechless.

Tamara suggested the two of them go to the bedroom to try everything on, and then decide whether we deserved to see them or not. And for the first time I saw my wife look at Aníbal, get up without looking at me, and walk into the room behind Tamara.

***

Aníbal handed me another drink and slapped me on the back like we were old friends.

—You’ll thank me for this later —he said—. I know my wife. Stuff like this turns her on, and she’s not going to miss the chance to touch yours while she helps her get dressed.

I was stunned. Renata would never allow anything like that. I told him there was no way she’d put on my gift in front of strangers, that she didn’t even wear it with me. Aníbal only smiled, utterly sure of himself, bragging about how submissive Tamara was in bed. His tone irritated me, but I confess it also sparked a curiosity I couldn’t control.

The door opened. The light was dim and it took me a second to focus. Tamara appeared wearing an almost transparent set, held together by just four red bows, leaving everything to the imagination. She was one of those women who, fully dressed, go unnoticed, and with less clothing take your breath away. Aníbal let out a couple of vulgar compliments, she blushed and laughed, and sat down pressed against him.

Renata, who had always described Tamara to me as a prude, was as stunned as I was. Later I found out that while they were changing, the two of them had had a tense conversation: Renata warned her that I would never let myself be seduced, and Tamara, offended, challenged her to come out wearing the lingerie and see whether that was true. What started as distrust between them turned into a silent war to prove which one could do more.

—Don’t make that stupid face —Renata told me from the doorway—. Don’t you want to see how what you bought me looks on me?

Aníbal’s eyes practically popped out of his head. Renata walked into the living room and, in the firelight, the red bustier looked incredible on her: it cinched her waist, lifted her breasts, and the black stockings looked like they had come straight out of an ad. For a moment I wished we were alone. At the same time, I felt a strange heat as I watched Aníbal devour her with his eyes without the slightest attempt to hide it.

—Neither of them is going to be eating dinner tonight —he blurted out, and we all laughed to ease the tension.

***

We ate dinner with them dressed like that, in lingerie, feeding each other bites of food and toasting to our marriages. But something had shifted: Renata paid attention to Aníbal and Tamara attended to me, brushing against me at every turn. At one point Renata took a long sip of wine, grabbed Aníbal by the face, and passed the drink from her mouth to his. It left all of us paralyzed. I no longer recognized the woman in front of me.

Then came the glasses Aníbal kept refilling. He pulled out some chewing gum and energy drinks that, according to him, boosted libido. We looked at each other suspiciously, but Tamara tried them first and none of us wanted to be left behind. I don’t know if it was suggestion or the alcohol, but within minutes we felt a burning in our bodies and an euphoria that stripped away our shame. Renata’s nipples went hard and her gaze ignited in a way I only knew when she wanted me and didn’t want to admit it.

We suggested moving to the sofas. I sat down thinking Renata would come sit on my lap, but it was Tamara who settled over my thighs, putting her arms around my neck. I expected Aníbal to get jealous. He smiled. Renata, on the other hand, looked at me with indignation that lasted exactly until she got tired of standing and went to sit on his lap.

Tamara was on fire. Her soft skin beneath the fabric, her smell, the weight of her body: everything pushed me toward a point of no return. I put my hand on her waist, right where that ass began. She leaned back, offering me whatever I wanted, and started rubbing slowly. I kept glancing up at Renata so I wouldn’t lose control, but Renata wasn’t looking at me anymore.

—Hey, pretty girl, I think that’s my spot —my wife finally said, expecting Tamara to give up her lap.

—What are you so afraid of, Renata? —she replied without moving—. Can’t you lend it to me for one night? Or do you think I’m going to flirt with Aníbal and he’s not going to get turned on?

And the worst part was that everything she said was true. She was flirting with me and I was on the verge of losing my mind.

***

What happened next took place right under my nose, as if Aníbal and Renata were alone in the room. He was stroking her ass over the fabric. He asked her, with total shamelessness, whether she shaved like Tamara. Renata, instead of taking offense, confessed that he had been sending her stories that got her worked up, that she had never told me because she loved me, but that they turned her on. I breathed for a second, thinking that would be the end of it.

I was wrong again. Renata reclined sideways across his legs, offering him her whole body. Aníbal pulled down one strap of the bustier, freed one breast, and took it into his mouth with such deliberate slowness that it made her writhe. Meanwhile, Tamara had taken my cock out and was stroking it with a skill I had never felt, whispering in my ear, watching Renata’s reaction.

—Look how wet I’ve got her —she told me, taking my hand between her legs. She was soaking.

I couldn’t stop looking at my wife. Aníbal had opened her bustier all the way and was tracing her skin with calculated slowness, never lunging, driving her crazy. Renata moaned in a way I had only ever heard in our most intimate moments, and now it was for someone else.

—Show him yours, baby —Aníbal told Tamara, sounding like it was a challenge.

Jealous, Tamara untied the bows and bared her breasts, fuller than Renata’s. She took both my hands and put them on them. I no longer knew where to look, what to think, or why the idea of my wife in another man’s arms, far from crushing me, had me harder than ever.

***

—Renata —Aníbal said with that sickening calm of his—, I was curious to know how you sucked cock. Show me. And look: my wife is going to suck yours too.

Tamara knelt in front of me and took the whole thing into her mouth in a way Renata had never done with me. My wife, biting her lip, watched the scene for a moment and then slid to the floor between Aníbal’s knees. From my seat I could only see her back and her bare ass rising and falling, but that was enough.

—Do you like it better when I suck you off, or do you prefer your wife’s? —Tamara asked me, letting me go for a second.

For the first time all night, I looked her in the eyes.

—Your lips are the most delicious thing that has ever touched my skin —I told her, and I knew there was no turning back.

***

I’m not going to pretend I understood what I felt that night. There was jealousy, yes, a dull rage at seeing Renata surrender herself to another man with a freedom she never allowed herself with me. But alongside the jealousy there was something stronger, an excitement that embarrasses me and turns me on in equal measure every time I remember it. Tamara kissed me with a passion I thought I had forgotten, and on the other side of the room my wife, the reserved and elegant woman who would die if she knew I’m telling this, discovered that she was far more lustful than she had ever let me see.

That night I learned something I have never been able to unlearn: a woman can desire with an intensity no man can match, and sometimes all she needs is a rival to push her into proving it. Renata and I stayed together. Stronger, she said afterward. And although we never saw Aníbal and Tamara again, the two of us know that night at the country house opened a door neither of us wants completely closed.