The Night We Swapped Partners at the Estate

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

We’re from Medellín. Renata is reserved, elegant, the kind of woman who would die of embarrassment if she knew I was telling this. Tall, with straight light-brown hair, a well-kept body, and a way of moving that seems to apologize for being so desirable. I was always the one insisting she loosen up a little in bed. She almost never gave in. She could barely bring herself to say "cock" out loud, much less get on all fours with the lights on, and every time I asked her to suck me while looking me in the eye, she ended up covering herself with the sheet.

For the weekend before the holidays, we had booked a country house outside Anapoima. The owner lived downstairs and left us the upper floor: two bedrooms, a huge living room with a fireplace, a picture window looking out onto the hills, and a separate entrance. The idea was to spend two days alone. I had even bought lingerie for her, planning a night in which she’d finally work up the nerve to give me a dance.

The problem was a year-end company party for Renata’s office. We were seated at Aníbal’s table, a work acquaintance of hers, and his wife Tamara. I never liked Aníbal: short, stocky, bald, with the kind of smooth talk of someone who says whatever he wants without thinking about consequences. Renata always swore she couldn’t stand him, that they only talked about work. Tamara, on the other hand, was quiet, dark-skinned, with curly hair and a body her apparent shyness did not manage to hide. I danced with her that night and found her charming.

Between the drinks and the euphoria, Renata made the mistake of telling them about the estate and, in a moment of drunk courtesy, invited them. I thought they’d never take it seriously. I was wrong. On Friday Renata confirmed that the four of us would be going in Aníbal’s car. At least we’d save ourselves from taking my motorcycle loaded with bags.

***

We left after lunch. The road was clear, and we arrived before nightfall. While unloading 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 similar for Tamara. I explained that the red set was for my wife; the other, the more daring one, he could choose himself. It made no difference to him.

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, was warming up to me. I appreciated it, because seeing my wife laughing at every one of Aníbal’s remarks was making my blood boil. We poured ourselves drinks out of spite, she and I, each jealous of the other without saying it.

Then Aníbal let the secret of the two bags slip completely. With a shamelessness that left me cold, he said the idea was for them to put on the lingerie and model it for us that very night. Renata went red. I couldn’t manage a single word.

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

He shrugged with a filthy smile. Renata looked at me, expecting me to say something. I said nothing. I had gone mute.

Tamara suggested they both go to the bedroom to try them 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 patted my back like we were old friends.

—You’ll thank me for this later —he said—. I know my wife. Things like this turn her on, and she’s not going to miss the chance to grab your wife’s tits while she helps her tie the bows. I’ll bet you anything she’s already stuck her hand in her cunt to see if she was wet.

I was stunned. Renata would never allow something like that. I told him she’d never put my gift on in front of strangers, that she didn’t even wear it with me. Aníbal just kept smiling, sure of himself, bragging about how much of a slut Tamara was in bed, how she sucked him to completion on her knees every morning before work, how she liked it when he fucked her ass when she got drunk. The tone annoyed me, but, I confess, it also stirred a curiosity I couldn’t control. I could feel my cock tightening my pants without having touched anyone.

The door opened. The light was dim and it took me a second to focus. Tamara appeared in an almost transparent set, held in place by just four red bows, leaving everything to the imagination: two big, firm tits with her nipples darkly visible through the fabric, her shaved cunt barely covered by a tiny triangle, wide hips swaying. She was one of those women who go unnoticed when dressed and take your breath away with less clothing. Aníbal let out a couple of crude compliments—"look at the ass my wife’s got, Mateo, don’t stare too long or you’ll come in your pants"—she laughed, blushing, and sat close to him.

Renata, who had always described Tamara to me as a prude, was as stunned as I was. I later learned that, while they were changing, the two of them had had a tense conversation: Renata warned her I would never let myself be seduced, and Tamara, provoked, challenged her to come out wearing the lingerie and see whether that was true. Weeks later, Renata also confessed that Tamara had helped her put on the stockings with trembling hands, brushing her thighs "accidentally," and at one point had run her thumb over her panties and whispered, "you’re soaked, Renata, don’t tell me you’re not enjoying this." What began as suspicion between them turned into a silent war over which one could push further.

—Don’t make that stupid face —Renata said from the doorway—. Want to see how what you bought me fits?

Aníbal’s eyes nearly popped out. Renata moved into the living room and, in the firelight, the red corset looked incredible on her: it cinched her waist, lifted her chest until her tits were almost spilling over the top, the black stockings looked straight out of an ad, and the tiny thong barely covered anything. For a moment I wished we were alone. At the same time, I felt a strange heat seeing Aníbal devour her with his eyes without the slightest attempt to hide it, his gaze dropping to the cleft between her breasts and then down to her pubic mound, imagining it open for him.

—Both of you are too good to even bother with dinner —he blurted out, and we all laughed to ease the tension.

***

We ate dinner like that, in lingerie, feeding one another, toasting our marriages. But something had already shifted: Renata was attending to Aníbal and Tamara was attending to me, brushing against me with every step. At one point Renata took a long sip of wine, grabbed Aníbal by the face, and passed the drink from her mouth to his. I watched her tongue going into his lips, moving slowly, and him sucking on it like it was dessert. She left us all frozen. I didn’t recognize the woman sitting in front of me.

Then came the glasses Aníbal kept filling. He brought 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 fall behind. I don’t know if it was suggestion or alcohol, but within minutes we felt a burn in our bodies and an euphoria that stripped us of our shame. Renata’s nipples got so hard they showed like little knobs beneath the corset, and her eyes lit up in a way I only knew when she wanted me and didn’t want to admit it. I had had a hard cock for a while, pressed sideways against my waistband, and I didn’t bother hiding it.

We suggested moving to the sofas. I sat down thinking Renata would come to my lap, but it was Tamara who settled over my thighs, putting her arms around my neck and pressing her tits against my chest. I expected Aníbal to get upset. He smiled. Renata, on the other hand, looked at me with an indignation that lasted exactly until she got tired of standing and went to sit on his legs, astride him, with her cunt pressed against the zipper of that son of a bitch.

Tamara was burning hot. Her soft skin under the fabric, her scent, the weight of her body: all of it drove 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, grinding her ass against my cock, up and down, feeling how hard I was beneath her. I slid my hand down her back until I slipped my fingers between her butt cheeks over the fabric and heard her let out a low gasp, barely audible, but enough. I kept looking up at Renata so I wouldn’t lose control, but Renata wasn’t looking at me anymore: she had her mouth open against Aníbal’s neck and was licking his ear.

—Hey, gorgeous, I think that’s my seat —my wife finally said, expecting Tamara to give up my lap.

—What are you so scared of, Renata? —she replied without moving—. Can’t you lend it out for one night? Or do you think I’m going to flirt with Aníbal and he’s going to get turned on? Because from where I’m sitting, you already have my man rock hard.

And the worst part was that everything she said was true. She was flirting with me and I was about to lose my mind.

***

What followed happened right under my nose, as if Aníbal and Renata were alone together. He was stroking her ass over the fabric and then squeezing it with both hands, spreading her cheeks, burying a finger in the groove of her thong. He asked her, with absolute shamelessness, whether she shaved like Tamara. Renata, instead of taking offense, confessed that he had sent her stories that got her worked up, that she read them in secret in the office bathroom and slipped her hand inside her pants until she came biting her lip, that she had never told me because she loved me, but that they turned her on. I breathed for a second, believing that would be the end of it.

I was wrong again. Renata leaned back sideways over his legs, offering him her whole body. Aníbal pulled down one corset strap, freed one breast, and brought it to his mouth with a slowness that made her writhe. He bit her nipple, tugged it with his teeth, sucked it whole with a wet sound, and she arched her back and dug her fingers into his neck to make him keep going. Meanwhile, Tamara had unbuttoned my pants, pulled out my cock, and was stroking it with a skill I had never felt before, her hand tight and firm around the head, moving up and down in a slow, unhurried rhythm, watching Renata’s reaction. With her thumb she gathered the drop of fluid already leaking from me and brought it to her mouth without taking her eyes off me.

—Look how wet I’ve got you —she said, taking my hand between her legs. I moved the little triangle of fabric aside and sank two fingers into her at once. She was soaked, so slippery my fingers slid in to the knuckles without resistance. She let out a rough moan and started moving my wrist herself, setting the pace, grinding her clit against the base of my thumb—. That’s it, keep going, you fucking bastard, don’t stop.

I couldn’t stop looking at my wife. Aníbal had opened her corset completely and was running his hands over her skin with calculated slowness, never lunging, driving her insane. He had slipped his hand inside her thong and was moving his fingers between her legs, and I could clearly see the tendons in his forearm tighten every time he pushed deeper. Renata was moaning in a way I had only ever heard in our own intimacy—that guttural, half-smothered moan it used to take me half an hour to draw out of her—and now it was for someone else, in the first minute, with almost no familiarity at all.

—Show him yours, baby —Aníbal said to Tamara, almost as a dare.

Tamara, jealous, tore off the bows in one motion and bared her breasts, fuller than Renata’s, with wide dark areolas and hard pointing nipples. She took both my hands and pressed them against herself with my own hands, forcing me to squeeze them, to pinch her nipples. Then she grabbed me by the nape and pulled my face down until it was buried between her tits.

—Suck them —she ordered, in a voice that was anything but shy—. Suck them hard, and make your wife watch.

I obeyed. I shoved an entire breast into my mouth, licked the nipple in circles, and then bit it. She let out a low cry and pressed me tighter against her chest. 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 lifted her head from Aníbal’s shoulder, saw me with Tamara’s tits in my mouth, and instead of getting upset she bit her lip and whispered something into Aníbal’s ear that made him laugh out loud.

***

—Renata —Aníbal said in that sickeningly calm voice of his—, I was curious to know how you sucked it. Show me. And look: my wife is going to suck your husband’s too. Let’s see which one does it better.

Tamara slid to the floor between my legs, pulled down my pants and boxers to my ankles, grabbed my cock at the base, and looked at it for a second as if she were figuring out where to begin. Then she took it all into her mouth in one motion, all the way to her throat, so far I felt the tip bumping against something soft and her swallowing around it. Renata had never done that to me: she always sucked half of it and choked on the rest. Tamara went up and down three very slow times, letting me see clearly how all of my cock disappeared between her lips, then began to suck me with a steady rhythm, taking every drop of spit, snorting through her nose, using both hands: one on my balls, the other at the base twisting in sync with her mouth. I dug my nails into my thighs to keep from coming in three minutes.

My wife, biting her lip, watched the scene for a moment and then slid to the floor between Aníbal’s knees. She unbuttoned his pants with clumsy fingers, pulled out his cock—I didn’t want to look but I looked—and held it for a second, as if measuring it. It was thick, shorter than mine but much wider, with a purplish head. Renata looked up at him, searching for his eyes, and with her gaze locked on his she ran her tongue from the base all the way to the tip. I watched her do something she had never done for me: spit on the head, rub the saliva in with her hand, and then take him all the way in. Aníbal let out a roar and grabbed her head with both hands.

—That’s it, slut, that’s it —he told her—. Suck it properly, don’t let it go.

From my sofa, with Tamara devouring me, I could barely make out the back of my wife and her naked ass rising and falling to the rhythm of the thrusts Aníbal was giving her throat, but it wasn’t necessary. The slurping could be heard, Renata could be heard gurgling every time he buried his cock to the uvula, and she herself could be heard moaning around his mouth, enjoying it.

—Do you like it better when I suck you, or do you prefer your wife’s? —Tamara asked me, letting go for a second, a strand of saliva dangling from her lip to my glans.

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

—You have the most delicious lips that have ever touched my skin —I told her, and I knew there was no going back.

I grabbed her head and moved it myself, fucking her mouth slowly at first and then harder, watching her eyes fill with tears and seeing how, instead of pulling away, she opened wider and begged me for more with her eyes. On the other side, Aníbal had lifted Renata and set her backwards against the sofa back, tearing off her thong in one pull. I saw my wife’s cunt from the other side of the room, gleaming wet, and him kneel down and bury his face between her legs. The first moan Renata let out when Aníbal’s tongue touched her clit shot through my back like a lash. It was a scream. I had never made Renata scream.

Tamara stood up, straddled me, grabbed my cock, and slid it into herself. I felt her cunt closing around me, tight and hot, and she started riding me while staring straight at me, her tits bouncing in front of my face, while in the background Renata moaned louder and louder under Aníbal’s tongue. The synchronization of the two scenes—the wife of another man riding me without a condom, my wife coming in her husband’s mouth—burned me from the inside and I no longer wanted to stop it.

***

I’m not going to pretend I understood what I felt that night. There was jealousy, yes, a dull rage at seeing Renata surrendering to another man with a freedom she never allowed herself with me. But alongside the jealousy there was something stronger, an excitement that both embarrasses and inflames me every time I remember it. Tamara kissed me with a passion I thought I’d forgotten, with her mouth still tasting of my own cock, and on the other side of the room my wife, the reserved, elegant woman who would die if she knew I was telling this, discovered she was much sluttier than she had ever let me see.

That dawn 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 are still together. Stronger, she said afterward. And although we never saw Aníbal and Tamara again, we both know that night at the estate opened a door neither of us wants to close all the way.