What I Saw My Wife Do at That Glory Hole

Laura and I had been together for almost eight years when we discovered that our sex life had a back door neither of us had dared to open all the way. It all started slowly, with whispered conversations after fucking, when our guard was down and the words came out uncensored. She confessed to me that she got turned on by being watched. I confessed that I got turned on by seeing her with other men. It wasn’t a one-night revelation. It was months of feeling things out, of gradually turning up the heat, like someone testing the water with the tip of their foot before getting in.

Our first real experience was at a swingers’ club on the outskirts. I’m not going to go into detail because that’s another story, but what matters is what happened afterward: the conversations changed. We no longer talked about fantasies in the abstract. We talked about what we had felt, what we wanted to repeat, and what we still had left to try.

One night, after a particularly intense session in bed, I blurted out the idea that had been turning over in my head for weeks.

—You know what I’d like to arrange? A bukake.

Laura stared at me with that sideways look of hers, caught between laughter and disbelief.

—Wasn’t that when a bunch of guys come on a woman?

—More or less. The idea is that you’d be the center of attention.

—Marcos, with the four guys at the lookout I could barely keep up. How many do you want to cram in now?

—As many as you want. Ten, fifteen.

—You’re getting crazier every day —she said, but I could tell she wasn’t ruling it out. When Laura rules something out, she changes the subject. This time she didn’t change the subject.

—Sure, but can you imagine what it would be like?

—Keep dreaming, honey —she replied with a laugh, and turned over to sleep.

I didn’t push it. I’d learned that with Laura the best strategy was to plant the seed and let it germinate on its own. That’s how her mind worked: first she rejected it, then she asked about it, then she wanted it.

***

A few weeks later we went out to dinner at a place we liked in the center, a restaurant with dark wooden tables and dim lighting. It was Saturday and the place was busy. Near us was a long table with a group of about twelve or fifteen men, all in suits, celebrating something that looked like a Christmas company dinner. They were loud, toasting, laughing out loud.

—Do you want us to ask for another table? —I asked her.

—No, we’re fine here.

Of course we were fine. She was the only woman in that part of the restaurant and more than half those guys were throwing her looks between toasts. Laura was wearing a tight black skirt that reached halfway down her thigh and a white silk blouse that left quite a bit to the imagination. I noticed how she sat straighter, how she tossed her hair back with that gesture she only made when she knew she was being watched. She loved it.

—Go to the bathroom and take off your bra —I told her, lowering my voice.

—Here? Are we starting already?

—You know it turns me on.

—Everything turns you on —she said, but she got up.

When she came back, the difference was obvious. The silk clung to her body and her dark nipples stood out with every movement. I saw two of the men break off their conversation to follow her with their eyes as she crossed the room. Laura sat back down across from me with a tiny smile that said she had noticed too.

—You’re driving them wild —I told her.

—Your thing. One of these days you’re going to want me to take it off outright.

—Don’t tempt me.

—Is that what you want? For a group of strangers to stare at my tits? Like in your famous bukake?

There it was. She brought it up. Exactly as I’d expected.

—Could you handle all those guys? —I asked, nodding toward the table.

Laura glanced at them out of the corner of her eye, bit her lip, and burst out laughing.

—There are too many for me alone.

—We’ll see about that.

—Keep dreaming, darling.

I left it there. I didn’t want to seem pushy. But her tone had changed. It was no longer a flat no. It was a “convince me.”

***

That night we fucked with an intensity we hadn’t had in weeks. Laura was on top of me, moving slowly, her eyes closed, when all at once she opened them and looked straight at me.

—Tell me how it would be —she said without stopping—. The bukake. Tell me everything.

—First you’d have to get them worked up. Suck each one off, taking turns, until they were rock hard.

—All of them?

—All of them. And then, if you wanted, you could fuck one of them. Or several. Until they were right on the edge.

—And then?

—Then you’d kneel down and they’d cum wherever you told them to. In your mouth, on your face, on your tits. Whatever you wanted.

Laura picked up the pace. Her pupils were dilated and her breathing came in broken gasps.

—That’s a lot of cum for one mouth —she whispered.

—You always say you like it.

—I do like it, but that’s another level.

She came hard, with a long moan that rose from deep in her chest, and collapsed on top of me, trembling. I knew then that it wasn’t a matter of whether it would happen, but when.

***

Over the following weeks I started looking into options. Private rooms, clubs, contacts. But while I was organizing the big thing, I decided to take an intermediate step that would speed things up. One Saturday afternoon I suggested to Laura that we stop by a sex shop to buy lubricant. It was an excuse, of course. What I really wanted was at the back of the store.

The sex shop was discreet, on a commercial street with not much foot traffic. We went in and Laura put on that fake embarrassed expression she always wore in places like this, looking at the merchandise with feigned curiosity. I asked the clerk whether they had private rooms and he said yes, several, and one was free.

—Laura, come here. I want to show you something.

—Where to?

—Right here. Trust me.

I took her by the hand and we went into the little room. It was small, with dark walls and a screen playing a porn film with no sound. There was a padded bench and the lighting was dim, reddish. Laura looked around cautiously.

—What is this place? Do you want us to fuck here?

I didn’t give her time for any more questions. I gently pushed her against the wall and started kissing her. At first she resisted a little, out of habit more than conviction, but when I hiked up her skirt and my fingers found what they were looking for, a sigh slipped out of her that dissolved any doubt she had.

I took her clothes off without hurrying. I wanted her to get used to the place, to stop thinking about where she was and just feel. I spread her legs and knelt between her thighs, burying my face in that already wet cunt that had been waiting for me. I started licking her slowly, opening her up with my tongue, tracing her lips and clit with firm strokes while I held her ass with both hands. Laura leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes. Her moans were soft, restrained, as if she were afraid someone on the other side might hear her.

I put her on her back, bent over the bench, and slid inside her. She was soaked. I started fucking her with a slow, deep rhythm, holding her by the hips, going all the way in and pulling out just enough to drive back in again, focused on that wet sound our bodies made when they met.

That was when I saw it. On the side wall, at waist height, there were two holes the size of a fist. They weren’t accidental. They were there for that.

Glory holes.

Laura hadn’t seen them yet. I kept moving inside her, waiting. I didn’t have to wait long. An erection appeared through the nearest hole, and Laura took a few seconds to notice it. When she saw it, she froze.

—Marcos, look —she said, eyes wide.

It was big, thick, with dark skin. Laura didn’t look away. I watched curiosity overtake surprise, watched her tilt her head to get a better look.

—Touch it —I told her without stopping fucking her.

—I don’t know…

I took her hand and brought it closer. Her fingers wrapped around the shaft carefully at first, almost shyly, and then she started moving it up and down. I felt her clench around me as she did it. It turned her on. It turned her on a lot.

I bent her a little farther over the bench so her mouth would be level with the hole. Laura looked at me for a second, seeking my approval, and I nodded. She leaned in slowly and took it into her mouth. At first it barely fit. She opened as wide as she could, dragging her tongue under the tip before starting to suck with more hunger, to swallow it in pulses, to slobber all over the shaft while she spit on it and took it back in again.

Seeing her like that, naked, with me fucking her from behind while she sucked a complete stranger through a wall, was one of the most intense images of my life. Every detail burned itself into me: the curve of her back, the rhythmic motion of her head, the sounds her mouth made, the way her hips pushed against me begging for more.

I moved to her side so she could take care of both of us. Laura knelt on the cold floor and started alternating between us, one suck for him, one suck for me, without pause, with a concentration I had never seen from her. She had saliva on her chin and glassy eyes.

I lifted her up and bent her over the bench again, but this time facing the hole. She positioned herself and guided the stranger’s erection into her. She let out a deep moan when she felt it all the way in and started moving against the wall at a pace that kept increasing, rubbing her pussy against the edge of the hole while she pumped it in and out with her hand so she wouldn’t lose control.

I watched. I just watched. And I discovered that watching was almost better than taking part. Every expression on her face, every spasm, every sound was more intense seen from the outside. My heart was pounding and I had an erection so hard it hurt.

Then, through the second hole, another one appeared. Laura saw it and there was no more hesitation. She grabbed it with her free hand and started masturbating it while she kept fucking the first one. She was unleashed, moving between the two holes like she’d been doing it all her life, switching from one to the other with a naturalness that left me breathless. She sucked her fingers, coated them with saliva, and rubbed her clit harder, faster and faster, until she was drenched.

I couldn’t hold out any longer and came in her hand while she kept doing her thing. After a few minutes, the moans on the other side of the wall grew more urgent. Laura knelt in front of the holes, opened her mouth, and waited. The first one came with a grunt that came through muffled by the wall. Laura took it all, swallowed, and turned to the second just in time. She wrapped her lips around the tip and milked it to the last drop, then cleaned it with her tongue like someone savoring something they don’t want to waste.

She sat on the floor, naked, hair tousled and breathing hard. She looked at me and slowly licked her lips.

—I had no idea this existed —she said in a voice I didn’t know, all rough and husky.

—Did you like it?

—What do you think?

We got dressed in silence, with that strange calm that comes after crossing a line with no way back. When we stepped out into the hallway, Laura stopped for a moment and squeezed my hand.

—The bukake —she said, looking me in the eyes—. Set it up.

I didn’t say anything. I just smiled. I’d been waiting for those two words for months.

***

We left the sex shop with the lubricant that was never the reason for the visit. The cold air outside hit us in the face and Laura walked pressed against me, her head resting on my shoulder. There was something different about her. It wasn’t just physical satisfaction. It was the certainty of having discovered a side of herself that until that afternoon had only existed in pillow talk.

In the car, before starting the engine, she looked at me with that half smile she wore when she was already thinking about the next time.

—The first time I see something like that and I end up with two strangers —she said, shaking her head—. This is all your fault.

—I only took you to the door. You walked in all by yourself.

Laura laughed and turned on the radio. I drove home with the window down, the icy air slipping into the car, and the certainty that what came next was going to be much more intense than everything we had lived through up to then.