Anal

That hot afternoon, Lucía sat beside him on the sofa and confessed something no brother-in-law should ever hear. Damián knew he was doomed before he answered.

They had been going to nude beaches for ten years without anything ever happening. That afternoon a man sat down in front of them and she did what her husband had spent years not daring to imagine.

That morning she looked at her hands and didn’t recognize them: they were the same hands that had signed a commitment and the same ones that had betrayed everything for him.

When I saw him emerge naked from the icy February water, I knew that morning wasn’t going to end at the easel.

I’d known her for almost thirty years. She was my girlfriend, my impossible love, my daughter’s godmother. That night she came into the bathroom wrapped in a towel and let it fall.

I’d spent years cheating on my husband without guilt, but I never imagined a work trip to a remote farm would end with me on my knees before a stranger.

I had buried it under years of exams and routine, but all it took was hearing him say my name from across the bar for my body to remember what my mind wanted to forget.

I didn’t shower before going back home. I wanted my boyfriend to feel the gym sweat on my skin and the trace of another man, and not have the courage to ask whose it was.

When the engine died in the middle of nowhere, Daniela knew that night would depend entirely on the two men sleeping in those trucks.

He wanted me to go back to telling him my invented adventures. He didn’t know that every word I whispered to him that night was a lie with a hidden edge.

He wasn’t looking at the frescoes: he was looking at her, as if she were the material he had to break. And for the first time, she wanted something in her life to come crashing down.

It’s been seven years since we signed the divorce papers and I never stopped looking for him. What I miss isn’t him: it’s what he does to me when no one else is watching.

The drive to the gym didn’t account for eighty extra kilometers every Thursday. That number was the first thread of a truth that would end up exciting me more than destroying me.

I was faithful to my husband until that man raised his glass to me and, without touching me yet, told me in my ear everything he planned to do to me that afternoon.

We booked the hotel to rest, but what I had in my backpack had other plans for that cold, rainy night.

I opened the door expecting the smell of damp and abandonment. The house smelled of freshly brewed coffee and of a man. And there he was, pouring himself a cup as if he owned the place.

When the doctor told me I’d never have children, I thought I’d lost everything. I never imagined the answer would be sitting across from me, toasting as if nothing were wrong.

For weeks I’d been hearing my friends tell me I needed to let go. That Saturday, after the second glass of wine, I decided I’d be the one setting the pace.

Everyone at the clinic thought he was crazy. In the dark hallway, he grabbed my arm and told me I was the queen his kingdom needed.

The cock that had left her trembling on Saturday belonged to the man who would sign her evaluations on Monday. And neither of them planned to stop.