What My First Love Did at My Friend’s House
We had been each other’s first love. Ten years later she returned to the village, and I still didn’t know that night I’d learn to hate my best friend’s easy smile.
We had been each other’s first love. Ten years later she returned to the village, and I still didn’t know that night I’d learn to hate my best friend’s easy smile.
Bruno’s curiosity awakened something in me I could no longer control: I wanted my trainer to touch me for real, not just in my words.
I opened the door half-dressed, my hair a mess and the bed still warm. He looked at the basket of my lingerie before he looked at me, and I didn’t bother to cover myself up.
We sat there like any two friends, but we both knew why we’d come. When the door closed, neither of us dared take the first step.
She humiliated me over a video call and I went out drinking until I collapsed. At the bar, two tall men held my arm and offered me a quieter place.
I went trembling into that dark apartment to wait for a man I had never seen. What happened that afternoon marked me for the rest of my life.
I went upstairs with a glass of cold water and found him naked on the ladder. I cleared my throat to let him know I was there, but he turned slowly.
The grocery tab was maxed out, my husband watched TV, and the grocer watched me from across the counter with blue eyes that seemed to strip me naked.
I heard her arguing with her husband through the courtyard. That night she came to my door with a flimsy excuse and her robe half-open. I had no idea what was coming.
“It’s only a handjob,” he promised her. But her husband was coming home that very night and the two of them were still tangled in the sheets, unable and unwilling to stop.
I walked out of that meeting with my blood boiling. That night I didn’t want to play soft: I wanted to destroy the two boys waiting for me on their knees on the mattress.
The key fell into the water and the back door jammed. Trapped in a one-meter-square box, handcuffed and half-naked, we discovered something neither of us expected.
When I opened the door at ten in the morning, I had no idea a favor with an iPhone would end with him moaning on his back in my bed.
When she got out of the car and every man in the ballroom turned his head, I understood that my wife wasn’t mine that night: she belonged to whoever dared look at her.
When the referee blew the final whistle, I knew there was no turning back: I’d have to pay up on the bet in front of my friend, right at the bar.
I innocently asked whether I’d been her best lover. Her laugh was the first sign I shouldn’t have opened my mouth that night.
Years of friendship, and I was looking at what I should never have looked at. One night I made a decision that changed everything between us forever.
His fingers moved slowly up my thighs. Then I knew that massage was going to be something completely different from what I’d asked for.
I was forty-six, married, with lovers and a perfectly ordered life. Then I saw him come out of the bathroom, and I couldn’t look away. That was the beginning.
A bet, alcohol, and years of friendship. That night, Adrián and Marcos discovered that some limits aren’t where you think they are.