My Wife, Three College Students, and a Borrowed Apartment

My name is Mateo, I’m forty-seven years old, and I’ve been married to Daniela for almost two decades. She’s forty. What I’m going to tell you happened two years ago, and we still talk about it in a low voice when we’re driving at night and nobody else is around.

That week we had a plan lined up. A single guy from another city had written to us on the app; he wanted to meet us in person and spend the night with us. For days beforehand we’d been exchanging messages, sending him a photo or two, building up the heat. Saturday at nine at night, just as we were dressed and about to head out, his message arrived: he wasn’t going to be able to make it, something had come up, maybe next time.

Daniela threw the phone onto the bed.

—I got dressed for nothing —she said.

—You didn’t get dressed for nothing. We’re going out anyway.

She looked at me with that irritated face she makes when she doesn’t know whether to keep being angry or laugh. The dress won out. She was wearing a short black one, fitted at the waist, V-neck, and she’d put on the deep red lipstick she saves for when she wants someone to look at her. And someone was going to look. That was written.

We went to a club next to a new shopping center. Daniela ordered a margarita, then another, then a third. By one in the morning she was laughing with her whole body, grabbing me by the neck, talking to me with her mouth too close to mine. By two she was at that exact point she knows and I know: cheerful, but lucid; loose, but not gone.

—Let’s go home —I whispered in her ear.

—I don’t feel like leaving yet —she answered, dragging out the lie. She loves pretending to be drunk when she isn’t.

We got in the car. On the way she complained three times about that idiot canceling on us. “I’d already set my mind on it,” she kept saying, “I’d already set my mind on it.” She wasn’t mad at me, she was mad at the universe.

—My cunt’s been soaking since eight tonight —she blurted out suddenly, her face pressed against the window—. And now it turns out I’m going to bed with wet panties for nothing.

—Nobody said you’re going to bed with wet panties.

She glanced sideways at me, barely smiling.

I took the avenue that makes the long way home. We passed in front of the Las Magnolias party hall, a place they rent for graduation parties and sweet-sixteen celebrations. People were coming out, mostly groups of guys in their early twenties. I slowed down.

—Pretend you’re dizzy —I told her.

—What?

—What you heard. Head back, eyes half-closed, don’t answer if they ask you anything. Now.

She looked at me for a second and understood. Daniela always gets it fast. I lifted the hem of her dress a handspan, almost to where her black lingerie started. I undid two more buttons at the neckline and lowered her bra just enough that the curve of her breast showed without revealing everything. She rested the back of her head against the seat, parted her knees a little, and committed to the role.

I stopped the car next to three guys waiting on the sidewalk. I rolled down the window.

—Excuse me —I said—. We’re not from around here. Where’s there a motel nearby? My wife’s had too many drinks, she’s dizzy and a little hot. I need to lay her down somewhere.

The tallest of the three came over. He was about to answer me and then he looked toward the passenger seat. His mouth froze. It took him a long two seconds to start talking, and when he did, he stumbled over the first words. He made a gesture to the other two.

—Come, come, you’ll explain it better —he said, pretending he needed help to point me to a street he knew perfectly well.

The other two leaned in. The same thing happened. Their eyes went to Daniela’s dress, to her thighs, to the skin of her neck. One bit his lip. Another swallowed without hiding it. Daniela was breathing slow and deep, eyelids half-mast, perfect.

The first one explained to the others:

—They want to go to a motel. He says his wife’s had too much to drink and is hot and bothered.

—But we were headed straight to the apartment where I’m staying —the shortest one, with curly hair, jumped in—. We were waiting for a taxi. We’ve got cold beer, we’ve got a room with a bed, your wife can rest there спокойно. And if you want… —he laughed nervously— do your thing, we’ve got condoms, tons of condoms.

—Yeah, come on, let’s go —the others said, almost tripping over each other.

—Fine —I answered—. Get in, show me the way.

***

The apartment was ten blocks away, in a new building with no doorman. A long studio with a kitchenette, a sofa, a TV, and at the back a bedroom with a double bed that took up almost the whole room. It smelled like young-man deodorant and reheated food.

The three of them helped carry Daniela into the bedroom. They laid her on her side on the sheets and tucked a pillow under her head with almost comical care. One of them pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. Another pulled her dress down a couple of centimeters to cover her thigh a little, as if decency still demanded it of them.

We went back to the living area. The curly-haired one opened the freezer and took out four cans. They turned on the TV to a music channel and the four of us sat around a low table covered with folders and thick books.

—Architecture —the tallest one said, lifting one up—. We’re finishing second year. Tonight was the end-of-term party.

—Tomorrow I head back to Mendoza —the curly-haired one added—. And Joaco goes to Tucumán. Bruno’s the only one staying; he’s from here.

Bruno nodded without saying much. He was the shyest of the three. Short, sturdy, with a neat haircut and a very young face. I put him at twenty, no more.

We drank the first beers talking about vague things. Where we were from, what we did. I made up a story that we sold farm machinery and were always traveling. Every so often, one of the three would turn his head toward the hallway that led to the bedroom. They couldn’t help it.

—Excuse me, can I use the bathroom? —I asked after the second can—. Keep an eye on my wife while I’m in there, just in case she falls off the bed.

—Yes, of course, of course —the three of them said at once.

I went into the bathroom and counted to one hundred. Flushed, turned on the tap, made noise. When I came out, the living room was empty. The three of them were standing in the doorway of the bedroom, silent, watching.

—Everything okay? —I asked.

They jumped.

—Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine, she’s sleeping soundly —Joaco, the one from Tucumán, answered, and they filed back into the living room.

I opened another beer. They started loosening up, telling stories about class, a girl they were all in love with, a professor who made their lives miserable. I listened, nodded, and every so often looked at the clock. Forty minutes later I said I needed to go back to the bathroom.

—Go check on her again, please.

This time I counted to one hundred and twenty. When I opened the bathroom door, the living room was still empty. I walked slowly to the bedroom and peeked in.

***

Bruno was sitting on the edge of the bed, one trembling hand on Daniela’s knee. The tallest one, whose name was Iván, had opened two more buttons on her dress and had his mouth on one of her breasts, the whole nipple in his mouth, sucking hard, eyes closed like he was praying. Joaco, kneeling at the foot of the bed, had pulled her panties down to her knees and was staring at her shaved cunt with his mouth slightly open, still too shy to touch.

The three of them went rigid when they saw me in the doorway. Joaco let go of the elastic as if it burned. Iván straightened up with the nipple still shining with saliva between his lips. Bruno looked at me like a kid who’d just been caught doing something bad.

—It’s okay —I said quietly—. Keep going.

Hearing me, Daniela opened her eyes fully. Slowly. She propped herself up slightly on her elbows. Iván kept staring at her, waiting for an explosion, a slap, something. Daniela held his gaze for a second, hooked the back of his neck with her left hand, and pushed his head back down to her breast.

—Keep going there —she told him in a clear voice, with no trace of dizziness—. You weren’t finished.

The three of them understood what was happening without fully understanding it. They didn’t ask questions. They went back to it with the urgency of someone returning to a dream before it slips away. Iván opened the dress all the way, ripped off the last buttons, and yanked her tits out of the bra. He took both in his hands, squeezed them, pressed them together, and started sucking on one and then the other, alternating, mouth open, drooling over them.

I backed up two steps, grabbed the desk chair in the corner, dragged it to the doorway, and sat there with the beer in my hand. From that spot I could see the whole bed. The warm light from the bedside lamp fell diagonally across Daniela’s face and body. It was the whole picture I needed.

Joaco finished pulling her panties off in one yank by the ankles. He smelled them before throwing them on the floor, not even noticing I was watching. He settled between Daniela’s legs, spread her thighs with his palms, and buried his face in her cunt. She let out a short moan, like she still hadn’t expected it. Joaco licked long, from bottom to top, sucking her lips whole, pausing at the clit to roll it with the tip of his tongue. Daniela grabbed his head with one hand and pressed it against her pussy.

—Like that, baby —she told him—. There. Harder with the tongue. Put a finger in me.

Joaco slid in his middle finger and curved it inside, searching for the spot. Daniela lifted her hips and started fucking his face. Her wet cunt sounded against the boy’s mouth, a slapping sound that filled the room. Iván had one nipple between his teeth and was tugging gently. Bruno was still on the edge of the bed, hand trembling, not daring anything more than to watch.

—Come here —Daniela said, turning her head toward Bruno, eyes shining—. Give me your mouth.

Bruno came over awkwardly and she grabbed him by the nape and shoved her tongue all the way in. She bit his lips, kissed him like she wanted to eat him. The boy moaned inside her mouth.

Joaco took a strip of condoms from the nightstand drawer, put one on with clumsy hands, and climbed on top of her. Daniela opened her legs with that natural ease she has when she’s already decided it’s a yes. She grabbed his cock with her hand, looked at it for a second —hard, thick, throbbing— and guided it herself to her cunt. Joaco thrust once and sank in all the way. Daniela opened her mouth in a long, soundless gasp.

—Holy fucking shit —the boy said, trembling—. Holy fucking shit, ma’am.

—Fuck me —she answered, grabbing his ass with both hands and digging her fingers in—. Fuck me hard, come on.

He started moving on top of her with ragged breaths, too fast. He went in all the way and out almost all the way, in a desperate rhythm. Daniela’s tits shook with every thrust. She signaled to Iván, who was still mouth-on-nipple, and Daniela turned her head and took Iván’s mouth before he even had time to ask. She opened his jeans, pulled out his cock, and took it in all the way at once. Iván let out a short howl and grabbed her hair with both hands. He started fucking her mouth while Joaco fucked her cunt. Daniela made muffled sounds, choked, and instead of pulling away she squeezed Iván’s ass cheeks, asking for deeper.

Joaco didn’t last long. He went red, his face tightened, and he came with a clenched moan that seemed not to want to ask anyone’s permission. He emptied himself into the condom with three final thrusts, shaking all over. He pulled out, sat on the edge of the bed, sweating, staring at the floor, still unable to believe it. The condom hung heavy and white, shining under the lamp.

Iván pulled his cock out of Daniela’s mouth before he came. He left a strand of saliva hanging from her chin. He shoved his pants down all the way, grabbed a condom, put it on while walking around the bed, and took his place. He turned her over, put her on all fours, and grabbed her by the hips. Daniela rested her face on the pillow and turned slightly toward me. She found me with her eyes. She smiled with that half-smile she reserves for the moments when she knows I’m watching exactly the way she wants me to watch.

Iván drove his cock in with one single thrust. Daniela let out a deep cry, muffled into the pillow, and arched her back. The boy grabbed her waist with both hands and started fucking her deep, with that strength only they have at that age, in no hurry to come, measuring it. His pelvis slapped against her ass, a dry, steady thudding that ordered the whole room. He slapped one cheek. Then another. Daniela pushed back to take more of him.

—Deeper —she asked—. Break me, come on.

Iván grabbed her hair, wrapped it around his fist, and tugged gently to lift her head off the pillow. She closed her eyes and looked for me again with her free hand, not finding me, groping the air. Bruno, still sitting on the edge of the bed, took her hand and squeezed it as if he were giving someone their first communion.

Iván fucked her like that for a long ten minutes, changing rhythm, pulling out all the way to slam back in, or staying inside with slow circles of the hips. Daniela started moaning in a steady stream, higher and higher, with that voice she gets when she’s about to finish. She braced herself on her elbows, lifted her ass even more, and started moving back into him herself, fucking the boy’s cock, biting her lip.

—I’m coming —she panted—. I’m coming, don’t stop, don’t stop.

Iván didn’t stop. He dug his fingers into her hip and kept going at the same pace until she clenched all over, trembled, and a long, almost mournful moan slipped out of her against the pillow. Her thighs were vibrating. Iván took advantage and sped up, two, three deeper thrusts, and came too, mouth tight, growling through clenched teeth.

When he pulled out, a thread of liquid fell from between Daniela’s legs onto the sheet. She stayed on all fours for a few seconds, breathing, face buried in the pillow, laughing softly.

***

When Iván finished, the three of them settled in different corners of the room. Joaco against the wall, in his underwear. Iván sitting at the foot of the bed, cock still half-soft, looking at her like she was a miracle. Bruno was still on the same edge where he’d started, clothed. He hadn’t even taken off his T-shirt.

Daniela looked at him.

—You come here —she told him.

Bruno stood up, took two awkward steps, and stopped beside the bed. Daniela lowered the zipper on his jeans with one hand and slipped the other inside. She searched. She searched for a good while. Bruno closed his eyes, sweated, pressed his lips together. Daniela pulled his cock out from his boxers and worked it with her hand, slowly, then with her mouth. She took him all the way in, pulled him out, licked him from top to bottom. Bruno looked at her with wet eyes. He didn’t react. Nothing.

—Please —Daniela said, looking at the three of us around her—. Step out for a minute. Let him stay alone with me.

Iván, Joaco, and I looked at each other. The three of us went out. I closed the door myself, carefully. We went back to the living room. Joaco opened three more cans. We sat there without speaking, as if saying anything would break what was happening on the other side of the wall.

—Is your wife always like this? —Iván asked after a while, in the deepest voice of the night.

—My wife is exactly like this —I answered.

Another long twenty minutes passed that way. Soft music, beers, glances toward the hallway. Some sounds slipped out from under the door: a muffled moan from her, the creak of the bed, a young man’s gasp. When the bedroom door opened, the three of us jumped up. Bruno came out first, in boxer briefs, with that huge grin of a kid who’s just had the most important thing of the year happen to him. Behind him came Daniela, wrapped in the sheet, hair messy, lipstick smeared.

—It was standing too —Bruno said, and let out a nervous laugh—. And how.

—He even left some inside me —Daniela added, sitting on the sofa, opening a beer with absolute calm—. No condom. It was the boy’s first time, you know? I just took his virginity. He came three times. Three. The last one hardly anything came out, but he kept going and going.

Iván and Joaco were speechless for a second. Then they burst out laughing, a long, loud laugh, the kind that hurts a little. Bruno covered his face with both hands.

***

We stayed until seven in the morning. Daniela went back into the bedroom with each of them separately, a second round, this time calmly. Bruno lasted less time this time, came in with more eagerness, put her on top, made her ride him while he sucked her tits like he’d never learned anything else in his life. Joaco lasted longer: he pinned her against the bedroom wall, standing, with one of Daniela’s legs over his shoulder, fucking her from the side until both their knees were shaking. Iván was the one who wanted to squeeze every minute out of it the most. He ate her out all over again, fucked her face-up looking into her eyes, then turned her over again, and ended up standing beside the bed spilling the whole load over her breasts while she held his cock with both hands, tongue out.

I went in and out of the room whenever I wanted, with nobody asking permission from me and nobody denying it to me. On one of the entries I found her kneeling on the floor, mouth open and eyes closed, while Joaco painted her face. She looked at me with one eye, smiled, and winked.

When the last beer was gone and the gray sun came in through the window, we told them the truth. That we’d been a swinger couple for years, that I enjoyed watching Daniela with other men, that she had not been drunk or dizzy at any point. That the car, the skirt hiked up, the neckline, the closed eyes, it had all been theater.

The three of them stayed silent for a few seconds, processing it. Then Iván lifted the empty beer like a toast and said, laughing:

—You’re a son of a bitch with a lot of luck.

Daniela took my hand under the table and squeezed it hard.

We said goodbye at the door. Bruno still hadn’t stopped smiling. None of them asked for phone numbers, or promises, or next times. They knew what it had been and didn’t want to ruin it by asking for more.

On the way home, with the sun already high, Daniela rested her head on my shoulder and stared out the window.

—That boy, Bruno —she said after a while—. Did you see what he was like?

—Yeah, I saw everything.

—That’s what I liked most —she answered—. Knowing you were watching it.