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 about to tell you happened two years ago, and we still talk about it in low voices when we’re driving at night and there’s no one else around.

We had a plan set for that week. A single guy from another city had written to us through the app; he wanted to meet us in person and spend the night with us. In the days leading up to it, we traded messages, sent him the occasional photo, and heated things up. On Saturday at nine p.m., when we were already dressed and about to leave, his message arrived: he wouldn’t be able to make it, something had come up, maybe next time.

Daniela threw her phone onto the bed.

“I got dressed up for nothing,” she said.

“You didn’t get dressed up for nothing. We’re going out anyway.”

She looked at me with that annoyed expression she gets when she can’t decide whether to stay angry or laugh. The dress won out. She was wearing a short black dress, tight around the waist, with a V-neckline, and she’d put on the intense red lipstick she saves for when she wants someone to look at her. And someone was going to look. That much was written in stone.

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 around the neck, talking much too close to my mouth. 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 replied, pretending to slur her words. She loves acting drunk when she isn’t.

We got into the car. On the way, she complained three times about that asshole canceling on us. “I’d gotten myself psyched up,” she kept repeating. “I’d already gotten myself psyched up.” She wasn’t angry with me; she was angry at the universe.

“My pussy’s been soaking wet since eight this evening,” she suddenly blurted out, her face pressed against the window. “And now it turns out I’m going to sleep with my panties wet for nothing.”

“Nobody said you’re going to sleep with your panties wet.”

She glanced at me, barely smiling.

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

“Act dizzy,” I told her.

“What?”

“You heard me. 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 catches on quickly. I hiked the hem of her dress up a handspan, almost to where her black lingerie began. I undid two more buttons at the neckline and lowered her bra just enough to show the curve of her breast without revealing all of it. She rested the back of her head against the seat, parted her knees slightly, and committed to the role.

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

“Excuse me,” I said. “We’re not from around here. Is there a motel nearby? My wife had a few too many and she’s dizzy and a little horny. I need to lie her down somewhere.”

The tallest of the three came closer. He was about to answer when he looked toward the passenger seat. His mouth froze. It took him two long seconds to start speaking, and when he did, he stammered over the first few words. He gestured to the other two.

“Come on, you tell him—you know the area better,” he said, pretending he needed help pointing out a street he knew perfectly well.

The other two leaned in. The same thing happened. Their eyes went to Daniela’s dress, her thighs, the skin of her neck. One bit his lip. Another swallowed without trying to hide it. Daniela breathed deeply and slowly, her eyelids half lowered, perfect.

The first guy explained:

“They want to go to a motel. He says the woman’s had too much to drink and she’s horny.”

“But we were just heading to the apartment where I’m staying,” said the shortest one, the curly-haired guy. “We were waiting for a cab. We’ve got cold beers, we’ve got a bedroom with a bed, and your lady can rest easy. And if you want to…” He laughed nervously. “Do your thing, there are condoms—lots of condoms.”

“Yeah, sure, come on,” the other two said, nearly talking over each other.

“All right,” I replied. “Get in and direct me.”

***

The apartment was ten blocks away, in a new building with no doorman. A long, narrow studio with a kitchenette, a couch, a television, and, at the back, a bedroom with a full-size bed that took up almost the entire room. It smelled of young-man deodorant and reheated food.

All three of them helped carry Daniela into the bedroom. They settled her on her side on the sheets and tucked a pillow beneath her head with almost comical care. One brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. Another pulled her dress down a couple of inches to cover her thigh a little, as if decency still demanded it of them.

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

“Architecture,” said the tallest, lifting one of them. “We’re wrapping up our second year. Tonight was our end-of-term party.”

“Tomorrow I’m going back to Mendoza,” added the curly-haired one. “And Joaco’s going to Tucumán. Only Bruno’s staying; he’s from here.”

Bruno nodded without saying much. He was the shyest of the three. Short, stocky, with a neat haircut and a very young face. I guessed he was twenty, no more.

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

“Excuse me, can I use the bathroom?” I asked after the second can. “Keep an eye on my wife while I’m gone, so she doesn’t fall out of bed.”

“Yeah, of course, of course,” all three said at once.

I went into the bathroom and counted to a hundred. I flushed, turned on the tap, made noise. When I came out, the living room was empty. All three were standing in the bedroom doorway, 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 began to loosen up, telling stories about classes, a girl they were all in love with, a professor who made their lives hell. I listened, nodded, and glanced at the clock every so often. Forty minutes later, I said I needed to use the bathroom again.

“Go check on her again, please.”

This time I counted to a 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 hand trembling on Daniela’s knee. The tallest one, whose name was Iván, had undone two more buttons of her dress and had his mouth pressed to one of her breasts, the entire nipple inside, sucking hard, his eyes closed as if he were praying. Joaco, kneeling at the foot of the bed, had pulled her panties down to her knees and was staring at her shaved pussy with his mouth half open, still not daring to touch.

All three of them went rigid when they saw me in the doorway. Joaco let go of the elastic as if it had burned him. Iván straightened up with the nipple, glistening with saliva, still hanging between his lips. Bruno looked at me like a kid who’d just been caught.

“It’s okay,” I said softly. “Keep going.”

When she heard me, Daniela opened her eyes all the way. Slowly. She raised herself slightly onto her elbows. Iván stared 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 lowered his head back to her breast.

“Keep going there,” she told him in a clear voice, without a trace of dizziness. “You hadn’t finished.”

The three of them understood what was happening without fully understanding it. They didn’t ask questions. They went back to what they were doing with the urgency of someone returning to a dream before it slips away. Iván opened her dress all the way, ripped off the last buttons, and pulled her breasts out of her bra in one motion. He grabbed them with both hands, squeezed them, pushed them together, and began sucking first one and then the other, mouth open, drooling over them.

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

Joaco finished pulling her panties off over her ankles. He smelled them before tossing them onto the floor, unaware that I was watching. He settled between Daniela’s legs, spread her thighs with his palms, and buried his face in her pussy. She let out a short moan, as if she still hadn’t expected it. Joaco licked in long strokes from bottom to top, sucking her entire lips, stopping at her clitoris to roll it with the tip of his tongue. Daniela grabbed his head with one hand and pressed it against her mound.

“That’s it, daddy,” she told him. “Right there. Harder with your tongue. Put a finger in me.”

Joaco slid his middle finger inside her and curled it, searching for the spot. Daniela raised her hips and began fucking his face. Her wet pussy slapped against the boy’s mouth, a splashing sound that filled the room. Iván had one nipple between his teeth and was tugging it gently. Bruno remained on the edge of the bed, his hand trembling, unable to do anything but watch.

“Come here,” Daniela told Bruno, turning her head toward him, her eyes shining. “Give me your mouth.”

Bruno approached awkwardly, and she grabbed him by the neck and thrust her tongue deep into his mouth. She bit his lips, kissing him as if she wanted to devour him. The boy moaned into her mouth.

Joaco took a strip of condoms from the bedside-table drawer, put one on with clumsy hands, and positioned himself over her. Daniela opened her legs with the natural ease she has once she’s decided yes. She took his cock in her hand, looked at it for a second—hard, thick, throbbing—and guided it into her pussy herself. Joaco thrust once and sank all the way in. Daniela opened her mouth in a long, soundless gasp.

“Oh, fuck,” the boy said shakily. “Holy fuck, ma’am.”

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

He began moving over her, breathing in short bursts, too fast. He went all the way in and almost all the way out, desperate rhythm. Daniela’s tits shook with every thrust. She signaled to Iván, who was still sucking one breast, and Daniela turned her head and took Iván into her mouth before he could even ask. She opened his jeans, pulled out his cock, and took it all the way in at once. Iván let out a short howl and grabbed her hair with both hands. He began fucking her mouth at the same time Joaco fucked her pussy. Daniela made muffled sounds, gagging, and instead of pulling away she squeezed Iván’s ass to ask for him deeper.

Joaco didn’t last long. He turned red, his face tightened, and he came with a stifled moan that sounded as if it didn’t want to ask anyone’s permission. He spilled inside the condom with three final thrusts, trembling all over. He pulled out, sat on the edge of the bed, sweaty, staring at the floor, still unable to believe it. The condom hung full from him, white and gleaming beneath the lamp.

Iván pulled his cock from Daniela’s mouth before he came. He left a thread of saliva dangling from her chin. He pulled his pants all the way down, grabbed a condom, put it on as he walked around the bed, and took Joaco’s place. He turned her over, put her on all fours, and grabbed her hips. Daniela rested her face on the pillow and turned slightly toward me. She sought me out with her eyes. She smiled at me with that half smile she saves for the moments when she knows I’m watching exactly the way she wants me to watch.

Iván buried his cock in her with a single thrust. Daniela let out a deep cry, muffled in the pillow, and arched her back. The boy gripped her waist with both hands and began fucking her deep, with the strength only someone that age has, in no hurry to come, taking his time. His pelvis slapped against her ass, a dry, steady pounding that organized the entire room. He smacked her buttock. Then again. Daniela pushed back so he would go deeper.

“Deeper,” she begged. “Break me, come on.”

Iván grabbed her hair, wrapped it around his fist, and pulled gently to lift her head from the pillow. She closed her eyes and reached for me again with her free hand, not finding me, feeling through 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 good ten minutes, changing the rhythm, pulling out all the way before driving back in, or staying inside while making slow circles with his hips. Daniela began moaning steadily, higher and higher, with that voice she gets when she’s about to come. She propped herself on her elbows, raised her ass even higher, and began moving backward herself, fucking the boy’s cock, biting her lip.

“I’m coming,” she gasped. “I’m coming, don’t stop, don’t stop.”

Iván didn’t stop. He dug his fingers into her hips and kept thrusting steadily until she contracted all over, trembled, and let out a long moan, almost a lament, against the pillow. Her thighs were vibrating. Iván took advantage and sped up, two, three deeper thrusts, and came too, lips pressed tight, grunting through his teeth.

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

***

When Iván finished, the three of them settled into different corners of the room. Joaco leaned against the wall in his underwear. Iván sat at the foot of the bed, his cock still half-hard, looking at her as if she were a miracle. Bruno remained on the same edge where he’d been at the beginning, fully dressed. He hadn’t even taken off his T-shirt.

Daniela looked at him.

“You,” she said. “Come here.”

Bruno stood up, took two awkward steps, and stopped beside the bed. Daniela lowered the zipper of his jeans with one hand and slipped the other inside. She searched for him. She searched for quite a while. Bruno kept his eyes closed, sweating, pressing his lips together. Daniela pulled his cock out of his underwear and worked it with her hand, slowly, then with her mouth. She took it all the way in, pulled it out, and licked it from top to bottom. Bruno watched her with damp eyes. He didn’t respond. Nothing.

“Please,” Daniela said, looking at the three of us standing around her. “Get out for a moment. Let him stay alone.”

Iván, Joaco, and I looked at one another. The three of us went out. I closed the door myself, carefully. We returned to the living room. Joaco opened three more cans. We sat there without speaking, as if saying something might break whatever was happening on the other side of the wall.

“Is your wife always like this?” Iván asked after a while, his voice deeper than it had been all night.

“My wife is exactly like this,” I answered.

A good twenty minutes passed that way. Low music, beers, glances toward the hallway. Some noises slipped under the door: one of her muffled moans, the creaking of the bed, a young man’s panting. When the bedroom door opened, all three of us jumped to our feet. Bruno came out first, wearing only boxers, with the huge smile of a boy who’d just had the most important experience of the year. Daniela followed behind him, wrapped in the sheet, hair tousled, lipstick smeared.

“It worked,” Bruno said, bursting into a nervous laugh. “And how.”

“He even left it inside me,” Daniela added, sitting on the couch and opening a beer with absolute calm. “Without a condom. It was the boy’s first time, you know? I just took his virginity. He came three times. Three. The last time hardly anything came out, but he kept going and going.”

Iván and Joaco were speechless for a moment. Then they broke into laughter, long, loud laughter that hurt 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, now taking her time. Bruno finished faster this time, coming in with more eagerness, getting on top, making her ride him while he sucked her tits as if he’d never learned to do anything else in his life. Joaco lasted longer: he took her against the bedroom wall, standing up, with one of Daniela’s legs over his shoulder, fucking her from the side until both their knees were trembling. Iván was the one who wanted to make the most of every minute. He ate her out all over again, fucked her on her back while looking into her eyes, then turned her over again and finally stood beside the bed, unloading all over her tits while she held his cock with both hands, sticking out her tongue.

I went in and out of the bedroom whenever I wanted, without anyone asking my permission or denying it to me. During one of my visits, 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 sunlight came 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, and that she hadn’t been drunk or dizzy at any point. The car, the lifted skirt, the low neckline, the closed eyes—all of it had been an act.

The three of them fell silent for a few seconds, processing it. Then Iván raised his empty beer as if making a toast and said, laughing:

“You’re one lucky son of a bitch.”

Daniela reached for my hand beneath 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, promises, or another time. 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 overhead, 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?”

“Yes. I saw everything.”

“That’s what I liked most,” she replied. “Knowing you were watching.”