I Confessed to My Husband What I Did with the Professor

Lucía breathes slowly, seated on the armchair in front of Mateo. He looks at her the way he always does when something important is coming: unhurried, attentive, almost patient. The lights in the living room are low and the glass of red wine he’s holding remains untouched on the coffee table.

—Love… I have to tell you something —she murmurs, playing with the edge of her robe’s belt—. I’ve been keeping it in for two weeks and I can’t take it anymore.

Mateo doesn’t answer. He leans back, crosses his arms, and looks at her with that calm that has always undone Lucía. She takes a deep breath and begins.

—It wasn’t planned, I swear. I was going to the faculty like any other day. You know how it is: long hallways, the smell of disinfectant, the white scrub top that hugs my waist when I lift my arms. I don’t do anything, love. I just walk, listen, take notes. But there are looks. There’s always someone looking.

At the pharmacy technical school, Lucía goes unnoticed by anyone who isn’t paying attention. Dark-haired, short, with no big pretensions, her hair tied back in a loose ponytail, a pleasant body and nothing more. But there are people who stop to look at her in detail. Bruno, the one who sits two rows behind, won’t take his eyes off her when she leans over the lab counter. Esteban, the one who pretends to trip over his chair just so he can brush her waist as she walks by. She acts distracted. Inside, she likes it.

—I like feeling that while the professor talks about pharmacokinetics, someone back there is thinking about my legs —Lucía says with a smile that is not entirely innocent—. Thinking about spreading them open, about slipping a hand under my scrubs, about fucking me against the lab counter. They don’t do anything. They’re boys. But I like knowing that when they go home they’re going to jerk off thinking about me. That they’re going to come with my face in their heads.

Lucía never crosses her legs to flirt. Her way of provoking is different: one more button undone, letting the fabric of her uniform sketch what it should hide, smiling just a little when someone holds her with their gaze. She never pushes. She lets herself be seen and disappears.

—Professor Hernán doesn’t have anything special at first glance —she continues—. He must be about fifty, white lab coat a little wrinkled, glasses he almost never wears, a deep voice that wakes you up when you’re about to fall asleep on your notes. I never thought he’d come up to me like that. He’s serious, explains everything from memory, almost like a book talking.

Lucía draws breath. Mateo doesn’t move. He keeps looking at her as if nothing she could say would ever knock him from where he is.

—I’m not the best in the class, love. I scrape by, you know that. So I wasn’t surprised when one Tuesday he asked me to stay after class. “Lucía, wait a moment. I want to review your exams,” he told me. Everyone left. I stayed seated in front of his desk, playing with the zipper of my backpack while he talked about my grades. He told me I was doing fine, but that I could do much better. That if I wanted, we could go over everything together, with time, to raise my average.

—And you nodded —Mateo says, in a low voice.

—I nodded. I was afraid to say no. But I felt something else too, love. I felt my cunt getting wet under the scrub pants. There, sitting in front of him, with my panties soaking through and me unable to do anything about it. Something I don’t know how to explain to you.

***

Three days later, Lucía agreed to have coffee with him. At the café on the corner near the faculty, she sat across from Hernán and they ordered two cortados. Hers went cold. Hernán talked about hospitals, clinical pharmacy, the importance of learning how to handle difficult patients. Lucía took off her scrubs and stayed in her cotton blouse: a slight neckline, nothing vulgar, just enough for him to glance down every so often without anyone around noticing. Underneath, no bra, her nipples pressing against the fabric every time his eyes landed on her.

Outside, a bus passed every ten minutes. Inside, the only sound was the coffee machine behind the counter. Lucía twirled the little spoon between her fingers, set it down, looked at him again. Hernán brushed her hand once, pretending to reach for the napkin. She didn’t pull away. She felt a slight heat in her chest, like a current rising and falling and ending up between her legs. She told herself it was nothing. But something, very deep inside, was beginning to open. Her cunt was throbbing. Her panties were already sticky.

—We talked about everything, love. About the faculty, about my shifts next year, about how I want to work in hospital pharmacy. He told me that there you see things no book teaches. He looked at me hard and told me that in a hospital nobody breaks down with medicine alone. That sometimes a doctor who’s been on duty for twenty hours needs another kind of relief. That a good assistant knows how to understand that without needing it explained. That she knows how to kneel under a desk and suck the on-call doctor’s cock and make him come in her mouth without anyone finding out.

—And what did you answer? —Mateo asks, and his voice sounds rougher than he expected.

—Nothing. I didn’t say yes or no. I just had cold sweat on my back, my panties a disgusting mess of discharge and a strange kind of nerves. Not the bad kind, the scary kind. The other one. The one that makes you clamp your thighs under the table so no one can tell you’re leaking juice inside.

Lucía lowers her gaze for a moment and lifts it again. Mateo tightens his jaw slightly.

—He asked me if I knew how to “help a patient relax” —Lucía goes on—. I laughed and told him no. He said a good nurse, a good assistant, knew how to ease tension without needing medication. That you relax an exhausted man with your mouth, with your hands, with your cunt. And then he added: “I have more books and study material in my apartment. If you want, I’ll show you.” I felt my ears heat up. I sat there playing with the empty cup. He took it as a yes.

***

No more words were needed. Hernán paid the bill without asking. Lucía followed him to the door. As she walked behind him toward the car she felt as if everyone on the street was watching her. No one was watching her. Only she knew what was about to happen. Or what she wanted to believe wasn’t about to happen.

She got into the car as if she were going to another class. A private tutoring session, he said. Lucía looked out the window the whole way with her legs clenched, her wet cunt pressing against the seam of her pants. A little voice inside her head screamed at her to get out at the next light. She didn’t get out.

The apartment smelled of old cologne, reheated coffee, and sheets that had been put away for too long. Hernán took off his lab coat, put on some low instrumental music, and opened a folder they never ended up touching. He talked about exams, clinical rotations, relaxation techniques. Lucía was sitting in a chair, in front of the round dining table. He stood behind her, his hands almost brushing her shoulders every time he pointed to a word on the page. The air grew heavier with every minute.

—When I felt him standing behind me, my voice was shaking, love. I mumbled something about wanting to learn how to help patients. He asked me if I really wanted to learn everything. I nodded. I was scared. But something in me wanted to do it too. Not for him. For me. For you.

For you. For us. For this thing we’re doing now.

—He told me I had to relax first. Let go. I felt his hands on my shoulders, moving slowly down to my arms. He whispered for me to close my eyes. To imagine a long shift in the hospital, that I was helping him release the tension. I was only trembling. But I didn’t move an inch away.

Hernán lowered her blouse with patience. There were no words. He kissed her neck, bit her earlobe lightly, and she shuddered. He went for her breasts with his hands, slowly, feeling the nipples harden against his fingers. He pinched them, stretched them. She let out a weak moan, impossible to hide. He made her stand and slid his hand between her legs over the pants, pressing her pubis with an open palm. He felt how soaked she was. He laughed softly into her ear. He guided her to the bedroom at the back. Lucía’s back was straight, her head split between the forbidden and a desire she could no longer deny. Her panties were dripping.

—He took everything off me, love. First the blouse, then the pants. He looked at me like he’d paid admission to see me naked. He made me stand in front of him, in my panties, tits out, and told me to turn around slowly, that he wanted to see me all over. I wanted to cover myself with my hands, but I stayed still. He made me spread my legs and ran his fingers over my panties, pressing my cunt from the outside. The fabric was so wet it stuck to my lips. He pulled it to the side and shoved two fingers in all at once. Love, they went in like nothing. I was so wet it made noise. A dirty, obscene noise. He looked me in the face while he drove his fingers to the hilt and whispered, “Look at how wet you are, look at how you’re dripping.”

—Tell me slower —Mateo says, hoarse, his hand already on Lucía’s thigh—. Tell me everything.

—He sat me on the edge of the bed and spread me open slowly. He knelt on the floor between my legs and stayed there looking at my open cunt for a long while, as if deciding where to start. I was trembling. I thought: “this old man is going to eat me whole and I’m not going to stop him.” He put his mouth there, between my thighs. First he ran his tongue all the way through, bottom to top, slow, sucking up everything that was leaking. Then he shoved it inside me. He went in and out like it was a little cock. I grabbed the sheets with both hands and arched my back. He found my clit with his lips and started sucking it like he wanted to tear it off. Love, he knew how. He knew what he was doing. He moved his head in circles, nibbled at it lightly, slid two fingers into me at the same time. He couldn’t stop. I grabbed his hair with both hands, like that could hide something. I pushed his face against my cunt while I told him “don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop.” And I was thinking about you. I was thinking I shouldn’t be doing this, but I was doing it anyway, because part of me wanted to, because it was my fantasy, and because when I got home I was going to tell you like this, word for word, with my tongue still tired from moaning so much.

The game with her mouth went on until she exploded in one long, wet moan, her thighs clamping the professor’s face, her back arched, her breasts bouncing when the orgasm shook her whole body. He came in her mouth. He kept sucking while she writhed, hypersensitive, pushing at his forehead for him to stop, to give her a second. He didn’t stop until she came again, weaker, longer, with her eyes full of water.

Then he straightened up, his face shining, his beard wet, and stood in front of her. He pulled down his pants. Lucía took his cock in her hand. She found it warm, normal, average, exactly the length and thickness she liked. She stroked it between her fingers, pulling the skin back, watching the tip turn dark. She ran her thumb over the wet head and whispered that she needed it inside. That she wanted to be filled. That he should put it in her already.

Hernán turned her over on the mattress, put her on all fours, and held her by the hip. He set her head against the mattress and lifted her ass. He ran the tip along the lips of her cunt, rubbing it up and down, wetting her with her own juices. He murmured something dirty in her ear that she doesn’t repeat now. And he took her in one thrust, all the way in, until she moaned into the pillow as if it hurt and she liked it at the same time.

—I felt him behind me. He pushed slowly at first, measuring how he was going in. Then harder. He drove it all the way in and stayed there for a second, moving it in circles, feeling how I clenched around him. Then he’d almost pull it all the way out and slam it back in. Love, he pushed so deep I saw lights. He held me with both hands, like I might escape. He grabbed my waist, my ass, my hair. He yanked my hair back and made my back arch while he kept fucking me. The heat rose from my stomach to my throat. I bit my lips so I wouldn’t scream. I asked for more. I told him “don’t stop,” “break me,” “fuck me however you want,” and he didn’t stop. I forgot everything. I forgot who I was, what my name was. I was just an ass lifted up and a cunt squeezing an old man’s cock. I moved my hips to the same rhythm, pushing myself against him, looking for him to push deeper, and between guilt and pleasure I was thinking about you, love. I swear it. I was thinking this would break you. That you’d hate me. But I also thought maybe you’d like it. I know you, Mateo. I know what you look at when you think I’m not watching.

—Keep going —Mateo says, his voice breaking—. Don’t stop.

—He pulled out and made me turn around. On my back. He spread my legs with both hands until it hurt, and he shoved it back in while looking at my face. Love, he looked at me while he fucked me. He watched my mouth distort, my tits falling to the sides with every thrust, my eyes rolling back. He sucked my nipples without stopping. He bit them. He grabbed both my breasts and squeezed them while he slammed into me hard. I wrapped my legs around him, drove my heels into his ass so he wouldn’t slip out. I came again with him inside me. I came screaming, unable to cover my mouth. My cunt closed around his cock like a fist and he laughed, laughed in my face, and told me, “look at the little quiet girl screaming.”

***

Lucía falls silent for a moment, breathing deeply, her mouth slightly open. Mateo strokes her face, tracing the line of her jaw with his fingers. His breathing is no longer what it was before: it’s heavy, hot, impatient. Lucía bites her lip, leans toward him, and asks:

—Do you want me to keep going? Do you want to hear how it ended?

Mateo lets out a low sigh, barely controlled. His fingers close softly over her thigh, right where the robe opens. He slides his hand up to her pubis. She’s wet. The robe underneath is soaked.

—Tell me everything, Luci. Make me see it. Make me feel it… while you do whatever you want to me.

She smiles faintly. Her hand goes down, brushes his crotch, and feels him hard under the pants. She opens the zipper, slips her hand inside his boxers, and pulls his cock out. She squeezes it slowly, strokes the tip with her thumb. There’s no turning back for either of them now.

—After that he pulled away for a second, panting. He laid me on my back again. He looked at me like he still couldn’t believe what had happened. He asked me if I wanted to keep going and I nodded, without saying anything. Sweaty, wet, burning. With my legs still open and my cunt throbbing. He shoved himself back into me. I felt his body on top of mine, the weight, the sweat, his belly against my stomach. I felt him pull out and go back in, slow, then fast, then slow again. He pulled out all the way and slammed back in. He bent down and sucked my tits while he fucked me. He kissed my mouth with tongue, made me taste my own juices that had stayed on his beard. We were like that for a good while, panting, sweating, stuck together. We changed positions two or three times. He rode me on top. He made me ride him until my legs shook, his hands on my hips guiding me, watching my breasts bounce. He put me on my side, lifted one leg, and fucked me like that, biting my neck. I wasn’t thinking about anything anymore. I was only feeling. I was only a body being fucked by a body.

Time stopped in that apartment. The air turned thick, heavy with sweat and muffled moans. While Hernán took her, he watched her close her eyes, open her mouth, almost cry from something that wasn’t sadness. It wasn’t just pleasure. It was guilt, desire, fantasy made flesh. It was knowing herself as Mateo’s and, for a while, someone else’s too. It was being one man’s woman and another man’s whore on the same afternoon.

At some point Hernán lost the rhythm. Age, a tired body, something slipped away. His cock started to go soft inside her. Still warm, still half-hard, it silently asked her for help. Lucía, without thinking too much, pushed him away from the chest to make him lie on his back and slid down to kneel at the edge of the bed, between his legs. She took his wet cock into her mouth without asking. She had just fucked herself with it a second earlier and now she licked it all over, shining with her own juices. With her mouth still full, she asked him if he wanted her to take care of it. He nodded, unable to speak.

—I knelt down, love. I took him first with my hand and then wrapped my lips around him. I ran my tongue slowly, like you taught me. I licked the tip first, in circles, sucking at the moisture. Then I took it all the way to my throat. I worked him with both hands and my mouth at the same time. I caressed his balls with one hand while with the other I squeezed him at the base, and with my mouth I pumped him up and down, taking him deep until I gagged. I pulled him out, spat saliva over him, and shoved it all back in again. I felt him come back to life, get firm again, pulse against my tongue. You know I’m good at it. I learned from you. I learned how to suck your cock, love, and this time I used it so another old man would come in my mouth.

The professor murmured phrases she could barely hear while she focused on her own work: “look at that… the quiet one… the girl in the white scrubs… the shy, serious one… the little saint… who would’ve thought… look at how the girl sucks… look at the little whore swallowing it.” His hand held her by the nape of the neck. He started moving her head to the rhythm he wanted, faster, deeper, not letting her breathe. She let him. With watery eyes, drool running down her chin, she let him use her. When he finished, it was all at once. Hot, bitter, choking. One long spurt, another shorter one, another spilling from the corner of her mouth. She swallowed as much as she could. There was no romance. Only the courtesy of not spitting it in the face of a man she almost didn’t know.

—He didn’t warn me, love. I leaned back a little so I wouldn’t choke and he filled me anyway. I felt the first spurt hit the back of my throat and then three or four more. The taste was harsh, almost stale. Salty, thick, a lot. Different from yours, you know? Yours is clean. Younger. Sweeter. I didn’t want to spit anything out. I didn’t want him to feel old, used, disposable. So I swallowed it all. I licked my lips afterward. I cleaned the tip with my tongue so not a drop would remain. And he was looking down at me, smiling, as if to say “good girl.”

***

—After that I got up. I dressed fast, grabbed my backpack, and left there shaking, my head all knotted up, my cunt burning, my panties soaked with him and with me, his semen still sliding down my throat. I got on the bus and felt like everyone was looking at me. Like they could smell me. Like they knew. I don’t know if those were looks of lust or of judgment. But one thing was certain: I had to tell you. I couldn’t keep it in. If you wanted to hate me after that, you could. But I’m yours anyway. Forgive me, Mateo. Or enjoy me. But say something. Tell me you don’t want me to shut up here.

The room is nothing but hot breathing. Mateo stares at her, caresses her face, her jaw, kisses her forehead with a tenderness he won’t have later. He yanks her robe open, rips the belt away, leaves her naked on top of the armchair. He looks at her breasts, her stomach, her swollen, shining cunt that still remembers the other man. He makes her lie face down on the long sofa, with her legs still folded under her body, her ass raised toward him.

His voice sounds hungry, firm, not open for discussion.

—I don’t want you to shut up, Luci. I want you to tell me everything. I want to see you do more. I want to see you be a whore without ever stopping being mine. But next time… —he lowers his voice until it’s a whisper against her ear— next time I want to watch. I want to see you spread another man’s legs in front of me. I want to watch you swallow while I’m watching you. You don’t do it without me, understand?

Lucía nods, unable to speak. Mateo separates her ass cheeks with both hands and runs his tongue up and down her cunt, eating it whole, sucking up what the other man left behind, swallowing the foreign taste mixed with hers. She screams against the backrest. He eats her until she comes again, trembling, moaning his name. Then he stands up, pulls down his pants, and thrusts his cock into her in one single stroke, without asking permission, without tenderness.

The robe ends up on the floor, Mateo’s hands closing hard over her hips. There’s no tenderness now. There’s flesh, sweat, low moans against the backrest of the sofa. He drives his cock all the way in, stays there feeling her squeeze him, and talks into her ear while he fucks her:

—That’s how the old man fucked you, right? He put it in you like this? Tell me, whore. Tell me while I put it in you.

—Like that, yes —she moans, biting the sofa arm—. Like that, harder, that’s how he put it in me…

This isn’t like the other nights. This time they don’t make love: they break it apart. Mateo pushes without pause, without questions, without patience. He grabs her hair, yanks it back, and bites her shoulder while he drives his cock all the way in. He smacks her ass with his open palm, once, then again, leaving the red imprint of his hand. She arches her back, moans between bites into the sofa arm. The forbidden tastes sweeter to both of them.

He turns her over, sits her on top of him, makes her ride him looking him in the eyes, grabbing her breasts, sucking them while she moves. Then he throws her back on her spine, lifts both legs onto his shoulder, and buries himself in her again. He fucks her like that, folded in half, with his cock coming out and going back in right in front of her own eyes, until he feels like he can’t take it anymore.

Lucía feels used and loved, dirty and his, all at once. She knows her confession didn’t save her: it marked her. And it marked him too.

—Like that, love… —she whispers through clenched teeth—. Do it hard. Do it like I’m not your wife, but your whore. Come inside me. Mark me with yours so you always remember I’m yours. But nobody else is allowed to see it. Only you. Next time… I promise next time I’ll ask you first. Next time I’ll bring it to you ready.

Mateo growls something that isn’t a word and spills inside her in several hot lashes, gripping her hips until his fingers leave marks. Lucía comes again feeling him fill her, moaning softly, her face smashed against the backrest of the sofa. She stays there for a long while, unmoving, with him still inside, breathing against the nape of her neck. When he finally pulls out, he sees the semen running down her thigh, mixed with everything else. He wipes two fingers through it, gathers what he can, and puts them into her mouth. Lucía sucks slowly, looking him in the eyes, never stopping smiling.