I’m a Sex Coach, and This Is My Most Intimate Confession

There’s something I never tell the people who come into my office: I have secrets too. I’ve spent years listening to theirs, nodding with the professional calm I learned to fake, while inside I recognize every desire they confess because I’ve lived almost all of them myself. Today, for the first time, I want to turn that dynamic around. I want you to listen to me.

My name is Renata, I’m forty-five years old, and I’m Colombian. I work with couples and single people who want to reconcile with their own bodies, with the things they were taught to keep silent. I love what I do, I won’t deny it. But I’m also a flesh-and-blood woman, and I’m going to talk to you about all that flesh without shame.

I’m not going to give you my complete inventory; I’d rather let you imagine it. I’ll only tell you that I’m five foot five, that my skin is the color of toasted cinnamon, and that my green eyes give away more than I’d like. I’m full-bodied, with wide hips and big, heavy tits that still fill my hand at this age. My cunt is almost always shaved, with only a narrow strip, because I like to feel everything without barriers. I learned a long time ago to walk as if everyone were looking at me. They usually are.

I like simple elegance, the kind that doesn’t shout. Soft fabric brushing against my back, perfume lingering at the nape of my neck, a conversation that starts by talking about anything at all and ends up in territory neither of us planned to enter. My energy speaks before my mouth does. I discovered that when I was very young, and I haven’t stopped using it since.

I studied psychology out of curiosity about desire, I’m not going to lie to you. While my classmates were interested in childhood and trauma, I only wanted to understand why the body surrenders where reason says it shouldn’t. That question led me to specialize in intimacy, and that specialization gave me the perfect permission to explore everything I already wanted to explore.

***

Let me tell you where I come from, because without that, what follows won’t make sense.

My first marriage was comfortable and lukewarm, like a freshly made bed where no one wants to wrinkle the sheets. I loved him, truly, but desire slowly dried up between us until one day I realized I’d spent months pretending to be tired so I wouldn’t have to pretend anything else. I left without a scandal. And the woman who emerged from that marriage was a hungry stranger.

It was around that time that a couple we were friends with invited me to a different kind of gathering for the first time. They spoke indirectly, sounding me out, expecting me to be horrified. Mateo and Lucía had been together for almost a decade and shared the complicity of people who no longer lie to each other. They told me about the scene, the rules, the respect that held everything together. And I, who listened to other people’s confessions every day, felt that at last someone was offering me the chance to live out my own.

—You can just come and watch, if you want —Lucía told me that afternoon, with a smile that was anything but innocent—. No one will touch you unless you ask them to.

The problem was, I already wanted to ask.

***

The house was on the outskirts, at the end of a tree-lined road. I remember the sound of gravel beneath the tires and my own hands gripping the steering wheel more tightly than necessary. I’d put on a simple black dress that clung where it needed to and fell loose everywhere else. Underneath, almost nothing: a tiny lace panty that was already getting wet before I got out of the car. I’d promised myself in the mirror: that night, I was going to stop being the one who listened.

Inside, the light was warm and low, soft music played, and there was a murmur of unhurried laughter. No one pounced on anyone. That was the first thing that surprised me and what allowed me to stay: the courtesy. The glasses, the looks held for a second too long, the conversations moving like a slow tide. Desire wasn’t shouted there; it was simmered over low heat.

Mateo handed me a glass of red wine and stayed nearby without crowding me.

—Lucía says this is your first time here —he remarked.

—It is —I admitted—. But I’m not new to wanting things I’m supposedly not meant to want.

He laughed softly, the way men laugh when they’ve learned patience. And I felt the heat rising from my belly, that ancient heat I know far too well, the same one that, simply remembering it now, makes me squeeze my thighs together and slip my hand under my clothes while I write to you.

***

I’m not going to sugarcoat anything. That would betray the art of anticipation, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that desire grows in the delay, but it also explodes when it’s finally released.

It was Lucía who led me by the hand to a secluded room. Not Mateo. And that decision of hers, so direct, completely disarmed me. I sat on the edge of the bed, and she stood in front of me, looking at me like someone studying something she intended to savor slowly.

—Relax —she told me—. Tonight you don’t have to understand anything. Just feel.

She lowered one strap of my dress with a finger, unhurried, letting the fabric give way under its own weight. Then the other. The dress gathered around my waist, leaving my tits bare, my nipples already hard from sheer anticipation. I, who had put the pleasure of hundreds of people into words, was left without a single one.

She knelt between my legs and spread my thighs with both hands, pushing them apart without asking permission. Her mouth found my neck first, then the curve of my shoulder, and descended, licking my skin until she reached a nipple. She took it fully into her mouth, sucked it hard, bit it carefully, just enough to make me release the first moan of the night. She pinched the other nipple with her fingers, pulling it, twisting it slightly. I was already wet, soaking wet, and when her fingers passed over the lace of my panties, she felt the dampness and laughed against my tit.

—Look at you —she murmured—. You’re soaked, Renata.

—Shut up and keep going —I answered, and even I didn’t recognize the voice that came out of me.

She ripped my panties off with two tugs. She threw them onto the floor. She spread my thighs wider, settled herself, and blew first, just a little hot breath over my naked cunt, to make me tremble. Then she put her whole tongue against me, flat, and ran it from bottom to top very slowly, finishing with a suction on my clit that made me lift my hips off the bed. She repeated the same motion three, four times, until I was gripping her head with both hands, pressing her face into my cunt without the slightest shame.

—That’s it, Lucía, just like that, don’t stop.

She didn’t stop. She sucked, licked, traced circles with the tip of her tongue over my swollen clit, and every so often dipped down to push her tongue inside me, fucking me with her mouth. When she slipped in two fingers, she curled them at once, searching for that spot women know among ourselves, and found it on her first try. She began moving them quickly, in and out, while her tongue kept working my clit, and I felt my first orgasm forming in my belly like a hot ball I wouldn’t be able to contain.

I came in her mouth, screaming. Without holding back. I pressed her head against my cunt while my legs trembled on their own and everything inside me shook. She kept licking me gently, stretching out my pleasure, until I pushed her away because I couldn’t take any more.

When she lifted her face, her mouth and chin were shining with me. She smiled, climbed onto the bed, and kissed me on the mouth without wiping herself clean, and I tasted myself on her lips and thought it was the most exciting thing I’d done in years.

That was when Mateo came in silently and stood for a moment against the doorframe, simply watching us. There was no urgency in his gaze. There was desire, yes, the hard bulge against his trousers made that obvious, but above all there was a kind of quiet admiration that made me feel, for the first time in a long while, deeply seen.

—Come here —Lucía told him without taking her mouth from my neck—. She wants you.

And I did want him. I nodded without saying a word. Mateo undressed unhurriedly, and when he pulled down his boxers and I saw his hard, thick cock, its tip already glistening, my mouth watered. He came closer to the bed, and I turned onto my side, still with Lucía pressed against my back, kissing my nape and playing with my tits. I took his cock in my hand, weighed it, stroked it from top to bottom, and put it in my mouth without ceremony. I wanted to feel it all the way down.

I sucked him slowly at first, savoring the skin, running my tongue over the glans, then pushing it down to my throat and pulling it out with a string of saliva. Mateo placed one hand on the back of my neck, without pushing, simply guiding the rhythm. Behind me, Lucía gently bit my shoulder and lowered her hand to my cunt again, sliding two fingers inside me while I sucked her husband. I’d never done anything like that, and yet it came naturally, as if I’d been doing it for years.

—Put it in her already —Lucía asked him after a while, in a hoarse voice I’d never heard from her—. She’s ready.

Mateo laid me on my back in the center of the bed. He opened my legs and settled between them. He rubbed the tip of his cock against my soaked cunt, up and down, teasing my clit, until I lifted my hips toward it. He thrust in all at once, all the way, and I screamed so loudly that Lucía covered my mouth with her hand.

—Shhh, my love, enjoy it.

He began to fuck me slowly, pulling almost all the way out and driving back in until I felt his balls pounding against my ass. Every thrust tore a moan from me. Lucía had climbed astride my face, looking down at me, and without saying anything she lowered her cunt to my mouth. I stuck out my tongue and began eating her while Mateo fucked me, and that was how we stayed, all three of us fitted together like a machine learning its own rhythm.

Mateo sped up. He grabbed my hips and began thrusting harder, deeper, until the bed creaked and my tits bounced with every stroke. Lucía came over my mouth first, pressing herself against my face, and her orgasm was what set off my second. I came with his cock inside me, squeezing it with my cunt so hard that he let out a beautiful curse and pulled out just in time to empty himself over my belly and tits, hot jets of cum that Lucía bent down to lick from my skin as if it were dessert.

The three of us lay there, sweaty and quietly laughing. No one had to say anything. We’d already said it all.

***

I came away from that night changed, and not for the obvious reason.

I came away understanding that desire, when handled well, isn’t chaotic or dirty, as so many people had taught me to believe. That you can share your body honestly, with clear rules and a level of respect many conventional couples could only wish for. That guilt is almost always a loan we take out from other people and repay with our own lives.

I explored the swinger world thoroughly after that. Not recklessly, but with the methodical curiosity of someone who wants to understand what she loves. I went to more gatherings, met more people, learned to read a look from across a room and to say yes or no with the same serenity. Every experience taught me something new about boundaries, mine and other people’s, about how pleasure is negotiated between adults who respect one another.

And all of that, without my planning it, ended up making me better at my work. When a couple sits across from me, frightened by a fantasy they don’t even dare to name, I don’t need a manual. I know that fear from the inside. I also know what lies on the other side, when you dare to cross over.

***

Let me confess one more thing, because half-truths aren’t enough for me.

I’m a very horny woman. I say it without flirtation, like someone describing the color of her eyes. There are nights when remembering one of these scenes leaves me restless, my cunt burning and my nipples hard, and I have no choice but to spread my legs in my own bed, push two fingers inside me, and rub my clit until I come all by myself, biting the pillow so I can sleep peacefully. It took me years to stop being ashamed of that. Today I celebrate it. In fact, I believe it was precisely that hunger that pushed me to study desire instead of running away from it.

In my stories, you’ll find everything. Encounters between women that began like the one between Lucía and me, with tongues and fingers and long orgasms. Threesomes where no one was left out and where there was cum everywhere. Nights in public places where the risk of being seen fucking was part of the pleasure. Infidelities I don’t defend but won’t disguise either, swapping partners, double penetrations, games that seemed to go too far until I discovered they were only beginning. Everything is live fire, as my grandmother says of anything that burns.

But I don’t want to get ahead of myself. Every story deserves its own space, tension, and time. I wanted this first installment to be just that: an honest introduction, an outstretched hand, an invitation.

If you made it this far, you know who I am. A woman who stopped asking permission. A woman who learned that the body, when you listen to it, tells truths the mouth keeps silent. And one who, after so many years of receiving other people’s confessions, finally decided to tell her own.

Don’t miss any of my stories. What’s coming burns hotter than this, I promise you. There will be cocks, cunts, asses, orgasms, and entire nights without sleep. Above all, there will be truth.

Until next time. I’ll leave you with the suspense, your thighs still pressed together, and a slow kiss.