I Watched, Without Moving, as Another Man Seduced My Wife

It happened many years ago now. Back then, my wife and I had been married for three or four years. We had married very young, so when this happened we were still not even thirty.

We were renovating the apartment and, while the work lasted, we had no choice but to move for a few months to my in-laws’ house, in a village ten minutes by car from the city. It was a two-story house, with a large yard where animals hadn’t been raised for years, a garage, and an old barn.

My in-laws had their usual crowd, four or five couples their age who got together every weekend for a late afternoon snack and a bit of a party. Nothing extraordinary: lots of food, more drink, and the same jokes as always. They took turns at each other’s houses, and there was almost always some child or relative tagging along; they had known each other all their lives and that had never caused a problem.

That afternoon it was at my wife’s parents’ house, and besides the regulars, there were us and Bruno, the youngest son of one of the couples, because in part it was being celebrated as his birthday: he had just turned twenty-four. They had him when they were already older, one of those pregnancies nobody plans for, and he was many years younger than his siblings. He didn’t live in the village, studied away from home, and only showed up in summer or on some special date. This time he had taken advantage of a long weekend, but the next day he was leaving again.

The gathering was going along as usual and, with the afternoon already well advanced, everyone was starting to get tipsy. I was worn out from forcing myself to laugh at the same jokes every week. Sonia, my wife, a little drunk, seemed delighted. At one point I couldn’t take it anymore, made up some excuse, and went out to the yard to breathe. Neither of us smoked and the air inside was unbearable. I went to the garage, got into the back of my car, and lay down on the seat to rest for a while.

I hadn’t been there long when the yard door opened. I looked through the rear window and saw it was Sonia. The alcohol was weighing her legs down, because she was walking with an unsteady step. She had gone out, like me, to clear her head, but in her case it was a bad idea: the air made her drunker faster and she had to sit down to ride out the dizziness. She did it on a planter, barely five meters from where I was. She looked terrible and I was already about to get out of the car to check on her.

Then the door opened again and Bruno came in. Seeing her like that, head bowed, holding her forehead with both hands, he went over solicitously and sat down beside her.

“Are you all right, Sonia?” he asked, bending down to try to catch her gaze, which she kept fixed on the ground.

My first instinct was to get out and take care of my wife. But then something happened that froze me in place. With a confidence I found excessive, he put his arm around her shoulders and drew her toward him. I should get up right now, I thought. I didn’t. A strange pang in my stomach, curiosity, the presentiment that something was about to happen, pinned me to the seat.

Sonia still seemed far away, as if she didn’t notice the boy, lost in some other galaxy. Bruno brought his lips to her ear and, since we were so close, I heard him clearly.

“You look gorgeous in that T-shirt,” he said, while brushing the fabric right at the height of her breast.

My instinct hadn’t deceived me. He was putting the moves on her, slowly, subtly, taking advantage of the fact that alcohol had shut her down. A thousand things ran through my head at once. I had fantasized before about seeing my wife touched by another man, but I had never believed it could become real. Reason was shouting at me to go out there and smash his face in; the knot in my gut and the filthy thrill kept me behind the tinted glass.

She still seemed distant, unable to react. Emboldened by her silence, he tried the other breast, squeezing it just a little. That woke her up. She realized what was happening, got up and pushed him away, and started walking, but in her dazed state, instead of heading for the house, she came toward the garage. She’s walking straight into the wolf’s mouth, I thought. He must have thought the same, because he followed her without hesitation.

***

The garage was large: there was room for the car and still space left for a workbench, my father-in-law’s junk, and an old divan, a Turkish-style bed nobody wanted to get rid of. It was at the back of the yard, in half-light, and from the house it was impossible to see what was happening inside. When Sonia realized her mistake and turned to leave, he was already behind her and had wrapped his arms around her.

“Come on, let’s sit for a minute,” he said, pushing her toward the divan without letting go of her. “We’ll be more comfortable and your dizziness will pass.”

“No, let me go, I want to go back to the others,” she resisted.

Bruno was taller and stronger, and far from giving in he kept guiding her, gently but relentlessly, to the corner he wanted. He sat her on the ottoman without loosening his grip, already panting with anticipation.

One swing of the car door, one glimpse of myself, and it would all have ended. But the scene was turning me on in a way I didn’t recognize. Just a little more, I told myself, despising myself and not moving.

“Easy, rest,” he whispered, stroking her face while she tried to dodge him. “You’ve had too much to drink, nobody knows we’re here. I’ve been watching you all afternoon. I like you a lot, Sonia.”

He buried his nose in her dark hair, near her ear, and nipped at her earlobe, trying to excite her. He was breathing harder and harder. She shook her head, but he held her by the shoulders with one arm while his other hand kept her resistance in check.

“No, Bruno, please,” she begged. “I want to go back inside. I’m a married woman, this isn’t right.”

He paid no attention to any of it. He started kissing her cheek, her forehead, her eyelids, and finally, holding her by the chin, took her mouth in a slow kiss. Sonia moaned. I took it as a complaint, a cry of helplessness; he took it as surrender and pounced on her lips while sliding his hand down to her breasts. By then my erection was already almost painful.

She seemed defeated. She offered no resistance and he made a feast of it, until he slipped his hand under her T-shirt. Then he left her mouth and moved down to her neck and shoulders; she, eyes closed and head tipped back, let him do as he pleased. Then he traced circles on her knee with his finger, circles that grew larger and disappeared beneath her skirt, along the inner thigh.

“Bruno, please, don’t,” she complained, her voice breaking. He silenced her protest by kissing her again.

The hand was no longer moving forward: it had reached its destination and the skirt was shifting with an unmistakable rhythm. Sonia let out a rough moan. At that moment he took her wrist and brought her hand to his fly, forcing her to rub the bulge straining his jeans.

She pulled her arm away, even stood up trying to escape, but he seized her firmly, got to his feet, and pinned both her arms behind her back, pushing her against the wall. With his free hand he lifted her T-shirt and, with one yank, pulled one cup of her bra down, exposing one breast. He bent to suck it, from the side, giving me a close-up that took my breath away. Then his hand went back under her skirt; he slid the elastic of her underwear aside and, when he pulled his fingers out, they were shining. She had gotten turned on, and he knew it: he brought them to his mouth with a triumphant smile. That did me in. I unzipped my pants and started touching myself.

***

Without letting go of her, he took her back to the ottoman and managed to lay her beneath his body, fitting himself between her legs. He was bumping his groin against her with his hips, like an animal marking territory, separated only by two layers of fabric. Then he rose onto his knees, got rid of his belt, and yanked at his jeans so fast the button flew off. The sound of the zipper made me flinch. It wasn’t any longer than mine, maybe a little thicker. Seeing it, Sonia closed her eyes and shook her head.

He positioned himself astride her, held her neck, and pressed the head of his cock to her lips until she, I don’t know if defeated or already complicit, gave in. He started moving slowly, building rhythm. I kept watching every thrust, hypnotized. A first spasm ran through me and I had to stop myself from finishing too soon. He sped up, bellowed like a locomotive, and went still, unloading with his hips tensed. When he withdrew, Sonia coughed and swallowed, gasping for air like a fish out of water.

He stayed on his knees, recovering, still hard, stroking her over her underwear, ready for the next assault. To get into a better position he stepped away from the divan for a moment and stood up to pull his pants all the way off, leaning against the window through which I was spying on him. That instant was enough for Sonia to react: she sprang to her feet, shoved him hard, and ran toward the house.

Bruno, caught by surprise, didn’t manage to hold her back. He recovered, zipped himself up, and went after her.

I was left dazed and, why not admit it, a little frustrated. It took me a few seconds to absorb what I had just seen right in front of my nose. But my wife’s escape snapped me out of the spell. This can’t go on, I thought. I had to find Sonia, protect her, and smash that guy’s face in. I got out of the car and went into the house.

***

The group was still at its boisterous fun, oblivious to everything. I didn’t see her anywhere; I didn’t see him either. My stomach tightened again. I excused myself and tried to sort my thoughts out. On the ground floor, besides the party room, there was our bedroom and another little sitting room that was hardly ever used; both empty. Only the upstairs was left.

I went up the stairs quietly. Halfway up I could already hear whispers, the rustle of fabric, and muffled moans. As I peered around the last turn, I had a perfect view of what had once been Sonia’s bedroom, and the scene was laid bare in all its rawness.

She was stretched across the bed, face up, her legs hanging over the edge and her feet on the floor. Bruno, on top of her again, was moving as if he was already inside her, although he was still dressed. What he had done, the bastard, was pull up her T-shirt and free her breasts.

“No, Bruno, please,” she begged in a thin voice. “I’ll jerk you off if you want, but don’t fuck me.”

I knew he wasn’t going to settle for that. He had her at his mercy and this time he would not let her escape. And once again, the filthy thrill paralyzed me and I stayed there watching.

Just as I imagined, he slipped his hands under her skirt and hiked it up to her hips to pull down her underwear. She tried to stop him without success.

“Please, Bruno, I’m begging you, don’t put it in me,” she moaned. “I’ll do whatever you want, but not that.”

I had to do something or I was going to witness live how my wife was forced. But the mix of rage, anxiety, and arousal had me nailed to the spot. I felt the pressure of my cock in my pants and, for one shameful instant, I wanted it not to stop.

Bruno freed his crotch, spread her legs apart with his knees, and drove into her with a thrust of his hips. She let out a cry that he smothered with his body. He stayed still for a few seconds, savoring it, then started moving, slow at first, sinking all the way in and coming almost all the way out, over and over.

Sonia covered her face with her hands, shaking her head in silence, her shoulders jolted by something like crying. I, without even touching myself, could feel I was on the verge of finishing in my pants just from watching.

I don’t know how long that back-and-forth lasted. At some point he changed pace and began to slam into her savagely. The bed creaked, her body bounced on the mattress. Sonia bit her hand to stifle moans I knew all too well: they were the ones she made whenever she came. At last he shoved his hips forward with several deep thrusts and collapsed on top of her. A damp stain in my pants gave away that all three of us had reached the same end at the same time.

***

He pulled away and lay on his back, panting, still half-erect. Bright strands slid down Sonia’s legs. I thought he would be satisfied, but shortly after he sat her up, taking her by the nape of the neck, and she, without a word, took him in her mouth until she brought back his hardness.

And then something happened I hadn’t expected. My wife shoved him away. She stood up, took off her T-shirt, her bra, and her skirt, and lay down on the bed, naked, legs open, waiting in silence. Bruno, smiling smugly, accepted the invitation and sank into her with a single thrust.

“Do you like how I fuck you?” he gloated.

“You’re not the one fucking me,” she answered, and there was a hatred in her voice that came from very deep down. “It’s only your cock doing the work, boy. You came for this, didn’t you? You’ve been eating me up with your eyes all afternoon. You’ve already come inside me and it still isn’t enough for you. Who’s going to want to fuck you, if not me?”

“The one who made you come twice,” he shot back without stopping his thrusts. “I’m sure your husband doesn’t do it even half as well.”

“Don’t you dare mention my husband. You’re not fit to lick the dirt off his shoes. He doesn’t fuck me, he makes love to me, and I come with him until I faint. You’re just a coward who took advantage of a drunk woman. So get on with it. Empty yourself inside me and be happy, because never again, listen to me well, never again are you going to have this chance.”

The thrusts turned more brutal and she took them, steady, staring him in the face with a repulsion that soaked his eyes. My erection had vanished; in its place grew the urge to go in and break his face, even if it was too late. But I hesitated: I didn’t know whether my appearance would be another humiliation for her. I bit my fists. Before I could decide, a satisfied bull’s bellow brought me back to reality: he was done. Sonia pushed him off her.

Bruno stood up, his cock already limp. Still smiling, he picked up my wife’s underwear from the floor.

“I’ll keep this as a souvenir,” he said with an obscene laugh. He got dressed, tucked the trophy into his pocket, and left.

Sonia stayed naked on the bed, her gaze lost in the ceiling, in silence. He didn’t see me leave: during the last part I had gone upstairs and hidden in my in-laws’ room, from where I could see everything even better.

***

I couldn’t let it end like that. I waited a bit and followed him. I figured he’d be in the yard, smoking the cigarette after. I wasn’t wrong. When he saw me, a flash of swagger crossed his eyes.

“How’s it going, Bruno? Good birthday?”

We were standing a hand’s breadth apart and he smiled at me arrogantly.

“Damn, you have no idea. I’m having an afternoon like never before, and that’s with it still not ha…”

I didn’t let him finish. I grabbed him by the shoulders and hit him with a headbutt that broke his nose, and a knee to the groin that folded him to the ground, gasping for air. I dragged him to the garage and there I hit him again until I heard his bones crack once more. He looked at me in panic, shielding himself with his arms. I searched his pockets until I found Sonia’s underwear.

“That’s too much of a trophy for shit like you,” I spat at him. “Don’t ever come near her or look at her again. You enjoyed taking advantage of a great woman; what you’re not going to be able to do is brag about it, because if you even think of telling anyone, I’ll kill you. Don’t ever set foot in this house again, and when you come to the village, make sure we’re not around.”

The pain wouldn’t even let him speak. Curled up on the ground, he listened to me in silence. I couldn’t help one last kick to the kidneys.

“Now get out before I change my mind. Not one word to anyone. If they ask about the broken bones, you’ll say you fell. Nobody touched you, understood?”

He nodded over and over, got up as best he could, and limped out through the back door. Only then did I see that Sonia had witnessed everything. She was standing in the middle of the yard, looking at me with tears in her eyes, but with a look of pride on her face.

***

I went over to her, and she lowered her eyes. I lifted her chin with two fingers and kissed her, hungry, passionate, with a taste that wasn’t mine. I didn’t care. We sought each other out with an old urgency, as if we had gone years without touching.

“I’m sorry, my love,” I told her later, already in the privacy of our room. “I could have stopped it and I didn’t. The filthy thrill, a drive I couldn’t control, my stupidity… everything conspired. I was an idiot. Forgive me.”

“You have to forgive me too,” she murmured, blushing, “because although I never wanted it and he took me by force, I ended up enjoying it.”

She confessed to me, in a low, hoarse voice, that she had come more than once, especially when she felt him finish inside her. For a while I was his female, she said, and instead of crushing me, that honesty lit me up again. I got hard as a rock once more and we made love like two teenagers, wildly, uncontrollably. It was the hottest night of our lives.

More than twenty years have passed. We are still a happy, solid marriage; our children, now grown, will soon leave the nest. Nothing like that ever happened again, and we have never needed fantasies or extras to keep passion alive.

And yet, some nights, when we want the moment to be special, we tell each other again what we felt that afternoon: the fear, the rage, and above all the filthy thrill that ended up overwhelming us both. When that happens, we devour each other without restraint until we collapse, spent. You can’t be happier than that.