Insaciable83

Every so often I’d type her name to see if I could find her. She never showed up. Until that morning, when the first result was her, exact, unmistakable.

She got the mechanic she’d been watching from the queue. When he slipped her his phone number “in case the car had problems,” they both knew the car was the least of it.

We had exchanged hundreds of photos, but nothing had ever happened in person. Until that March afternoon when I picked her up and she already had a plan.

Half past three in the afternoon, no knickers, and a very clear plan in my head. What I didn’t account for was who would end up speaking to me through the door.

I’d never let so many eyes run over me all at once. And the worst —or the best— part is that my husband enjoyed every second from the bar.

I watched her get out of the car to brush crumbs from her skirt, and without knowing it, I knew at that instant we still had many kilometers left and very few excuses.

When the others went to the bar and we were left alone by the pool, my aunt asked me something that changed the way I would look at her forever.

He asked me for directions and I walked with him without thinking. I never imagined that minutes later I’d be against the wall of a building under construction with my pants at my ankles.

I thought it was a dildo. When she removed the blindfold and I saw the mirror, I understood she’d been preparing me for something very different.

When he asked me to remove my compression shorts and cover myself with the towel, I thought it was just another session. His hands on my adductor proved otherwise.

I boarded the upper deck of the bus expecting to sleep the full seven hours. Thirty minutes later, a face appeared between the seats and asked where I was going.