The Weekend My Husband Lent Me to Another Man

Mariana chose her clothes carefully, knowing exactly who she was dressing for. Platform sandals that made her a little taller, jeans that emphasized her ass, a sleeveless ivory silk blouse and a thin-protected thong, because she knew she was going to get wet and didn’t want the fabric of her pants giving her away. And she knew it because she knew the destination: an erotic shop in the city center, one of those places she had never dared to go into.

Lorenzo watched her from the bed while she finished buttoning up. He loved the way her breasts stood out, free, without a bra, just as he had asked her to when she got out of the shower. They had soaped each other up with their hands, enjoying every inch of skin, without going any further. Just foreplay, a way to light the fuse slowly.

—You’re perfect like that —he said in his Italian accent, without getting up—. Don’t put anything on underneath.

—Whatever you say —she replied, and she liked saying it.

They had been together for barely a day and a half, but Mariana already felt like she was his partner. It was strange and delicious at the same time. Her husband had handed her over to Lorenzo for that weekend, while he went off with the Italian’s wife. An exchange agreed between the four of them, talked about for months, postponed a thousand times. And now, for the first time in more than twenty years, she was another man’s woman. The surprise of how much she liked it still made her dizzy.

***

They left the car in an underground parking garage and walked to the shop. Mariana hung on Lorenzo’s arm and pressed her chest against him, wanting him to feel her, to know she was horny. Because she was. He was handsome, self-assured, and treated her with a mix of sweetness and dominance that unraveled her.

A young blonde saleswoman helped them. Mariana already had a hunch what Lorenzo was going to order: a remote-controlled vibrating egg. That was how they had met four years earlier, at a business dinner, when he made her come in public under his gaze without anyone else finding out. Since then she had learned that Lorenzo liked that: provoking her, controlling her, deciding when she could and couldn’t.

—I also need a blindfold —he told the girl—. So I can photograph her without her face showing.

The saleswoman took out several. Mariana chose a black cat one, and smiled to herself: the pseudonym she used to publish her stories online had to do, precisely, with a cat.

—Mariana, do you want to put the vibrator in now? —Lorenzo asked.

—Where can I? —she asked, looking around.

The girl pointed her toward some booths at the back. Mariana went in, lowered her jeans and thong, spread her legs and slid the egg in slowly. She dressed again, made sure the protector was in place, and returned to the counter with her cheeks burning.

Lorenzo already had another package in his hands, something he had bought while she was in the booth. Her curiosity itched, but she had learned not to ask. Surprise was part of the game.

—Do you like it? —the saleswoman asked, showing her some black leather straps—. It’s a costume, it ties and fits to the body. With the blindfold you’ll look like a comic-book heroine.

—Do you like it? —Mariana turned to Lorenzo.

—A lot —he said—. Take it.

—Then there’s nothing more to discuss.

While he paid, the girl looked at her with something like envy. Before leaving, she leaned toward Mariana and whispered:

—Enjoy your man.

***

Arm in arm again, they went back to the car. As they settled in and fastened their seatbelts, Lorenzo turned the egg on to the lowest setting. Mariana felt the vibration rise inside her and looked at him, surrendered.

—I’m all yours —she murmured—. Play with my pleasure.

—That’s exactly what I’m planning to do.

The drive was short. They parked near the busiest square in the city and went for a walk. The terraces were full; it was a warm summer night. The egg kept her hot, her nipples tugging against the silk, and Mariana noticed the men’s looks fixed on her. She couldn’t help swaying a little as she walked. She felt desired, and that turned her on even more.

They went into a food market and approached an oyster stall.

—I know you like them —Lorenzo said—. We’re starting here. Half a dozen and a very cold white wine. And a little more rhythm.

He raised the vibrator’s intensity with a discreet gesture on the remote in his pocket. Mariana answered with a sigh that made her breasts tremble. She was forty-six, but that night she felt much younger.

—I’m going to turn it up even more —he warned her, leaning toward her ear—. But I don’t want you to come. I want you on the edge. When you come is up to me. Tell me, and I’ll stop.

—Whatever you want. I’m your toy, and I love being it.

The oysters and wine arrived. She lifted her glass and clinked it against his.

—To my Italian man —she toasted—, and I hope he makes me come and comes with me.

—You’re a beautiful woman —Lorenzo said—. Small, but appetizing. The kind that stays in the memory.

Mariana knew he was flattering her to have her in his hands, and she let it work. She played a little innocent because she had discovered that excited him: her surrendering completely, depending on him for everything.

—Can we have more oysters? —she asked, licking lemon from the shell—. They remind me of other things.

—A dozen more. And while you eat them, you’ll be able to let go. Do you understand me?

—You want me to come. Like the first time.

—Exactly.

—I’m dying for it —she whispered—. I want to come for you. Here, in front of everyone.

He turned the vibration up to the maximum. Mariana put another oyster in her mouth, closed her eyes, and let the orgasm run through her. She tried to control it, stretch it out, but it was impossible. When it hit, she gripped the edge of the table until her knuckles went white, holding the moan in her throat. No one around noticed a thing.

—Now —she said, breathless.

Lorenzo stopped the vibrator and took a sip of wine, watching her with a satisfied smile.

—Did you like seeing how you made me come? —she asked—. You’re a pirate with a poor little girl.

—I’m neither a pirate nor are you a poor little girl —he replied—. Now we’re going to dinner. I have a reservation.

***

They walked slowly to the restaurant, he with his arm over her shoulders, she pressed against his side. He didn’t turn the egg back on; he wanted it to rest, and he wanted to show her off. When they got to the entrance, he leaned toward her again.

—Unbutton a couple of buttons. I want to show off my partner.

—You want my cleavage to show?

—I want everyone to see it.

Mariana undid three buttons. The blouse was left open almost to her navel, held up barely by the fabric over her breasts. It wasn’t too noticeable in the street, but as they went up to the dining room, more than one customer turned their head. Lorenzo sat her facing the room, where everyone could see her, and turned the vibrator back on.

They ordered the house stew, some clams and a cold rosé. The waiter serving them couldn’t take his eyes off Mariana’s cleavage, and Lorenzo was amused by it. He liked being with a woman who made men nervous.

—Are you going to make me come again? —she asked, and kept looking at him—. I like you. I want to have a good time with you, for you to make me come and to make you come. To be your woman this weekend. The one you can do absolutely anything you please to, because that’s what she wants.

The vibrator’s pace increased. Mariana felt herself approaching again.

—Relax —he said—. The only thing you have to do is let yourself go.

—Take me wherever you want. Your cat is with you.

She drank more than she should have on purpose. She wanted to be a little dizzy, wanted to feel that he could ask her for anything. When dessert came, Lorenzo leaned in and spoke softly to her.

—I’m going to turn it up so you have a silent orgasm. You can’t scream, even if that’s what you want most.

He put the egg on maximum. Mariana filled her lungs with air, her whole body tightened, and she broke apart in a cascade of silent pleasure, her hands clutching the edge of the table, her eyes locked on his so he would know she was his. The waiter, who was just arriving with the coffees, lingered while offering sugar, letting his gaze wander over her breasts. Mariana, far from feeling uncomfortable, got even more turned on.

—Can you bring us two plain coffees? —she asked, her voice broken.

—Of course, ma’am.

And her “thank you,” when the last shiver shook her, was almost a moan.

***

Lorenzo paid the bill and left a tip. Mariana, who had drunk more than he had, stood up a little unsteady. It was a ten-minute walk to the parking garage, but she didn’t mind. She preferred it like that: hot and a little drunk. He took advantage of the walk to slide his hand to her right breast; her nipple was hard, and she let him, freed by the alcohol, playing with the man her husband had handed her over to.

In the car, with her shirt practically open, she turned toward him.

—You know I’m a little drunk and very horny? I want you to fuck me properly. You’re a corrupter of ladies, and you know it.

—When we leave the city, I want to see your breasts the whole way to the hotel. And as a reward, I’m going to turn the egg on again and you’ll be able to come as many times as you want.

Mariana bit her lip. She loved being called “cat.” As soon as the streets emptied out, she unbuttoned the blouse completely and left her breasts bare, trembling with the motion of the car. Lorenzo turned on the vibrator and she decided not to hold back anymore. For the whole trip she stroked herself, twisted her nipples, moaned, and came again and again, chaining one orgasm to the next. She only covered herself again when they reentered a populated area.

***

As soon as they closed the room door, they kissed hungrily. Mariana needed the man who would possess her, the one who would make her lose her mind. They stumbled to the bed, rubbing against each other, and he shoved her onto the mattress. He yanked off her pants and thong in one pull, took out the egg and buried himself between her thighs.

—Like that, like that, eat me —she begged in her Argentine accent, writhing.

Lorenzo devoured her, his tongue pushing in again and again. He found the clitoris, licked it, sucked it, and all the while slid two fingers inside her, in and out, looking for that spot that drove her crazy. He heard her scream, and he felt powerful. When she moaned that she couldn’t take any more, he didn’t stop, and Mariana came completely undone, soaking his mouth, helpless, turned into a toy in his hands.

He sat up, took off his clothes, and placed a pillow under her hips to make it easier for him. His cock was hard.

—Ask me for it —he said—. Cat, ask me for it.

—Fuck me... please —she whispered, and as she said it she knew she wanted to be Lorenzo’s woman, another man’s woman, not her husband’s.

He slid into her slowly, driving her in to the hilt, taking possession of her body. He felt like the owner of a burning female who was his for an entire weekend, who not only accepted him but enjoyed him. And he fucked her while hearing her scream in a succession of orgasms that seemed never-ending, until both of them were left without breath, without time, without anyone else in the world but the two of them.