Anal

I live naked in this apartment where no one knows us, waiting for my son to come back each night. After him there will be no other man, and I knew it from day one.

I had begged her a thousand times and she always stopped me with the same excuse. Until that night, in the dim bedroom, she said yes.

I went over just to watch the final. When the whistle blew, a hand sank into my ass and I knew the real plan was starting then and there.

She was on her sofa, her skirt hiked up and her cunt wet, and all she had to do was say one sentence for me not to leave her there, waiting for her husband.

When I opened my suitcase at the cabin, there was nothing of mine inside—just lace thongs, short skirts, and makeup. Carla looked at me calmly and said this was my only chance.

She knocked on my door in desperation: her husband had been arrested. I agreed to go, but on one condition, and she was in no position to refuse anything.

I got off the train with one idea in my head, and when I crossed the door of his apartment I knew neither of us was going to pretend this was a family visit.

The key was still warming my pocket from the night before. I knew she’d be awake, waiting for me, with her robe open and the coffee maker on the stove.

When the apartment was empty, I opened my mother’s drawer and became someone else. That afternoon, a shadow in the window changed everything.

I still felt the echo of the night before between my legs when I entered their room. My daughter slept like an angel and all I could think about was doing it again.

I shaved myself smooth, pulled on the tight black thong, and painted my lips red. An hour before he arrived, I was already trembling without having seen him yet.

I never thought a late-night talk with my grandmother, half-finished drinks, and the TV on in the background would uncover what happened every Saturday in the other house in town.

I was left tied on my back, legs spread, with no idea what she was going to pull out of that black bag she left on the hotel bed next.

It was three in the morning when I heard the key in the lock. I hid behind the curtain, never imagining what my mother would let them do a meter away from me.

He came to my room to confront me about what happened on Saturday, but what he confessed afterward left me breathless: he had seen everything, and he liked it.

He crossed the city with nothing but his desire. When the door opened, he knew that man wasn’t going to ask permission for anything that happened.

Baltasar smelled the tension the second the boy asked for a lift. He wasn’t after small talk: he wanted the same thing Baltasar did, and they both knew it without saying a word.

No one imagined that an empty vodka bottle spinning on a living-room rug would be enough to erase every line separating three couples.

My sex life had become predictable, so that night I texted my fuck buddy a proposal neither of us could have imagined where it would lead.

I asked for the phone and started recording. I wanted them to remember that night every time they looked at the screen, far more than their wedding video.