Bisexual

I got off the bus hot-headed and tight in my pants. I knew what I was going to the vacant lot for, but not that I’d get fucked three times in a row.

At forty-eight, in a Miami bar, my best friend grabbed me by the neck and kissed me. It was my first time with a woman, and I knew I could never go back.

I thought we were only going up to the pine grove to eat omelet and drink red wine. I never imagined my cousin would ask me to touch her among the trees that afternoon.

I got off the museum ship with my head spinning. That same night, facing the Pacific, a woman I barely knew kissed me like no man had ever kissed me before.

I’d only been in the alley for a month when I was put in charge of the punch with house 207. I didn’t expect the woman who opened the door and her husband to change my idea of desire that very night.

Tomorrow marks eight years since that last night with him, and I still wonder whether I was brave or just selfish to ask him for that.

We talked for weeks without sending each other a single photo, until she told me she wanted to be the first to do it to me, in person, in her bed.

Camila whispered in the elevator that she wasn’t wearing anything underneath. When Diego opened the door, I knew the afternoon was about to spiral out of control.

The beds squeaked in sync. If she moaned, my girlfriend got louder. It was a silent competition between four people separated by a few inches of drywall.

We were supposed to meet at the fountain, but they didn’t show. Then I got the photo: my girlfriend kneeling in front of my boyfriend, in the back bathroom, waiting for me to finally walk in.

As soon as the lights went out, she stood up from her seat and settled herself in front of us both. What happened next was no trailer.

We’d spent two nights watching without touching. On the third, as two couples mixed one meter from us, my girlfriend squeezed my arm and whispered something to me.

At 21, I thought I could handle anything. But when Esteban put his hands on my back and I felt my body respond, I wasn’t so sure of anything anymore.

Valeria called me to tell me her husband wanted a threesome. I hung up thinking it was her problem. That night I was in her living room, drink in hand and heart racing.

There was something about the way he looked at me from the platform. It wasn’t just any look. I knew that if I went with him, I’d never be the same.

We had been studying for hours when the cold became unbearable. Sofía invited me into her bed to warm up. Neither of us expected what came next.

A few seconds of video were enough to make my knees shake. Since then, I’ve been rehearsing every detail in my mind: the room, him, and what comes next.

We had spent the morning joking among the five of us, with that tension nobody names. When they started touching each other, it was obvious the afternoon was going to last a long time.

When I told him I could call someone to keep him company, he went out to buy cigarettes. Thirty minutes later, Sofía came down the stairs in heels.

When Mariana asked for my help, I knew the secret I’d hidden for years was about to come to light in front of three people I barely knew.