I Saw My Wife Give Herself to Our Gym Friend

We’ve been married for many years. We’re a couple who are already past forty, with good sex, though maybe less of it than I’d like. Routine drags us down, the kids, work, the mortgage: you know how it is. But week after week we’ve managed to make time for things I never thought I’d tell anyone about. This is one of them, and I still struggle to believe it happened.

My wife is a big-breasted woman whose breasts, despite the years, are still firm. She has an ass honed in the gym, round, with a bit of cellulite but still exciting. She’s not a model, she’s a real woman aging well, and I still want her as much as I did the first day. And, from what you’re about to read, I’m not the only one.

At the gym we met a group that little by little became something more than familiar faces. We ended up going out to dinner together from time to time, to have drinks on Fridays. Among that group there was a couple of women, married at the time. One was feminine to the ends of her hair, spectacular, with a smile that could stop traffic. The other, whom I’ll call Lorena, had more masculine gestures, was more direct, with two breasts that always showed beneath any gym T-shirt.

Lorena had the habit of greeting my wife with two long kisses and, as part of the deal, a hug in which she took the opportunity to press her breasts against hers. She did it shamelessly, in front of everyone, in front of me. My wife laughed, played along, hugged her back. Watching them made me horny, and I think the two of them noticed.

—Your wife gets hotter every day —Lorena told me one day, out of nowhere, at the bar.

—I’m not going to argue with that —I replied.

—Someday I’m going to steal her for a while.

She said it half as a joke, half seriously, and walked away. I was left holding my glass with a tingle between my legs I hadn’t expected.

***

Lorena’s marriage broke up that same winter. She went through a gray period, stopped coming to the gym, and we lost track of her a little. Until we ran into her in a supermarket one random afternoon, arm in arm with another woman. And fuck if the previous one had been spectacular, because this new one was from another planet. A tall brunette with green eyes that seemed to answer before you even opened your mouth. I’ll call her Bárbara.

—Well, look who we have here —Lorena said as soon as she saw us.

She hugged both of us, with the same breast squeeze as always for my wife and a pat on the shoulder for me. Bárbara smiled at us, shook our hands, and joined the conversation as if she’d known us for years.

—You have to come have dinner at our place —Lorena blurted out—. Any day now.

—Whenever you want —my wife replied.

—This Saturday.

And just like that, without having planned it, we had plans for Saturday.

***

We got to their place at nine. They lived in a spacious apartment, with just enough light, soft music, and candles in the dining room. Bárbara opened the door and, before even greeting us, she’d already done her job. She was wearing leggings so tight they left not a millimeter to the imagination. A white shirt open to the third button, barefoot. My wife glanced at me sideways and arched an amused eyebrow.

Behind her appeared Lorena, in a short top that outlined her nipples and low-rise jeans. She came straight to my wife, pressed her breasts against hers, gave her two kisses that brushed the corners of her lips, and laughed.

—I’ve missed you so much.

I was already rock hard in the hallway.

We went into the living room. Bárbara poured us a drink before we sat down. We had dinner on the low table, on cushions, which forced my wife to sit cross-legged and her dress to ride up every time she shifted position. Lorena never took her eyes off her, and Bárbara, sitting beside me, never took her eyes off Lorena.

Dinner was long. Three bottles among the four of us, a conversation that moved from the gym to couples, from couples to sex, from sex to what each person had tried and what they hadn’t. My wife, who doesn’t usually drink that much, already had bright eyes and a loose tongue.

—I’ve never been with a woman —she confessed, looking at Lorena.

—And why’s that? —Lorena replied without blinking.

—Because I never had the chance.

Bárbara chuckled softly and stood up. She came back from the kitchen with a joint between her fingers. She lit it calmly, took a long drag, and passed it to Lorena. Lorena took two drags and passed it to my wife.

—I don’t smoke —she said.

—You do tonight.

My wife took a short drag, coughed, and then took a longer one. Five minutes later she was leaning back on the sofa, head thrown back, eyes half closed, and with a stupid smile on her face I had never seen before.

***

Bárbara stood up. She said she had to go put her daughter to bed, that she’d woken up. She closed the living room door behind her as she left. Lorena didn’t waste a second.

She sat down beside my wife on the sofa, brushed the hair off her neck, and gave her a soft kiss behind the ear. My wife opened her eyes just enough to look at her, then closed them again. Lorena lowered her mouth, bit her neck carefully, licked the curve of her shoulder. I, in the armchair opposite, didn’t move a muscle.

From biting she moved on to kissing. On the mouth, full tongue. My wife didn’t pull away: she opened her lips, let Lorena’s tongue in, and after a few seconds she was the one kissing her. Lorena’s hands slid up her waist, over her ribs, to her breasts. Under her blouse.

—I’ve spent years wanting to eat your nipples —Lorena whispered, barely separating her lips from hers.

My wife unbuttoned her blouse herself. She took off her bra, let it fall to the floor, and pushed Lorena’s head against her breasts. Lorena started sucking one nipple while pinching the other between two fingers. My wife let out a low moan for the first time all night, a broken little sound not aimed at me.

I put my hand to my pants. I’d been hard for a while and started rubbing myself through the fabric, slowly, making no sound. Don’t move. Don’t interrupt. Don’t ruin this.

***

Lorena alternated nipples when the living room door opened. Bárbara came in, barefoot, silently. She stood still for a moment, watching her woman devour mine. She smiled. She came toward me, toward the armchair, and sat on the armrest.

—Relax —she said quietly—. Enjoy it.

I ran my hand down her back and kept going until I reached her ass. Over the leggings first. Then I slipped my hand under the elastic waistband. She wasn’t wearing panties. Her skin was burning hot. She made no attempt to stop me.

Meanwhile, Lorena had taken off her top. Her breasts, the ones I’d looked at for years above gym T-shirts, were now in front of my wife’s face, and my wife was biting them with a hunger I didn’t know she had. Lorena had her head thrown back and was moaning without a trace of shame.

Suddenly Lorena yanked at my wife’s pants. She pulled them and her panties down nearly in one go, to her ankles, and dropped to her knees. She spread her legs and lowered her face between them. My wife covered her mouth so she wouldn’t scream.

—Look what she’s doing —Bárbara whispered in my ear—. Look how she’s eating her out.

***

I watched. Damn right I watched. I saw Lorena’s tongue moving, I saw my wife’s hips lifting off the sofa, I saw her thighs closing around the other woman’s head. My wife grabbed Lorena’s hair and held her against her. Lorena slid two fingers inside her and my wife jolted.

Bárbara, beside me, had already lowered my zipper and taken my cock out. She started jerking me off slowly, looking me in the face, not at my hand. Meanwhile, my other hand had found Bárbara’s pussy through the leggings: she was soaking wet, hot, and pulsing. I slipped in two fingers and she sighed without stopping her hand.

—Your wife is really enjoying herself —she told me, not reproachful, almost proud.

—So is yours.

—Mine always enjoys herself.

***

Lorena stood up. She stripped completely naked, leaving her jeans and panties in a heap on the floor, and returned to the sofa. She climbed on top of my wife, straddling her, and put her pussy to her mouth. My wife, who ten minutes earlier had never been with a woman in her life, grabbed her hips and started eating her out as if she’d been doing it forever.

Bárbara helped me stand up. We reached the sofa. I ended up behind Lorena’s body, with her ass and pussy at eye level. It was a completely shaved cunt, open, glistening. I was about to lean in, but Bárbara beat me to it: she knelt down, licked her woman, and met, up there, the tongue of mine. The two of them licking her at the same time.

That left me with Bárbara’s ass and pussy free. I pulled her leggings down to her thighs, spread her butt cheeks, and slipped my tongue wherever I could find room. She moaned loudly for the first time. My wife heard me moving and opened her eyes. She found me with her gaze over Lorena’s thigh. I held her stare. She never stopped eating Lorena out.

***

Lorena was the first to come, with her face pressed against my wife’s pussy and her fingers dug into the back of the sofa. My wife came a few seconds later, still with Lorena’s tongue inside her, trembling all over. The two of them collapsed onto each other, panting, sweaty, laughing under their breath.

The two of them took care of Bárbara. They laid her out on the sofa, pulled her leggings off completely, and took turns. My wife dared to lower herself and licked her clit with the honest clumsiness of a first time. Lorena corrected her, showed her the rhythm, set the pressure with two fingers over hers. Bárbara came in less than three minutes, gripping both of their hair.

—On your knees —I asked, and I was surprised by the tone of my own voice—. All three of you. On all fours, on the floor.

They didn’t protest. The three of them got down from the sofa and lined up on the rug, asses up and heads resting on their forearms. Three different asses, three open pussies, three women waiting. I stood behind them, cock in hand, watching.

I came in less than a minute, and it was one of the strongest orgasms I remember. Some of it landed on Lorena’s back, some on the floor. The three of them laughed, one turned around, and the night slowly died down amid lazy kisses and another drink that I no longer remember who poured.

***

It hasn’t happened again. Lorena and Bárbara still live in the same apartment, we still go to the gym, and from time to time we run into each other at the bar. Lorena still gives my wife two long kisses and still squeezes her tits. Bárbara still looks at me with those green eyes that answer before I even ask. But there hasn’t been a second night yet.

When we remember it, in bed, my wife and I fuck as if we were twenty again. She tells me what she felt, I tell her what I saw. And the two of us know, without saying it, that the Saturday we go back to that house there won’t be any dinner.