My Nephew’s Graduation Ended with Me on My Knees

The ceremony was held in the university auditorium, an austere hall with folding chairs and a stage thrown together in a hurry. There was nothing solemn about that place, but for me it meant a lot: it was Bruno’s graduation, my sister’s son, finally finishing his degree after several years of setbacks and failed courses.

My sister couldn’t come. She was abroad, living her life without much guilt, so I went in her place, accompanied by his paternal grandparents, who had raised him almost like a son. Bruno was twenty-four and wore a look of relief that lit up his whole face when he crossed the stage.

When it was over, he pushed through the crowd to hug me. He squeezed me hard and spoke into my ear, his voice breaking.

—I did it, Auntie —he told me.

I understood what that sentence carried, but I chose not to stop there. I kept talking with the grandparents, with the professors, with whoever crossed my path, maintaining the composure of the proud aunt everyone expected to see.

At the auditorium door he caught up with me again, now surrounded by his friends. He was rubbing his hands together, nervous and keyed up, and he called out loudly in front of everyone.

—And my gift? I want my gift —he insisted, with a laugh that wasn’t entirely innocent.

I motioned for him to call me later and left without saying anything else. I knew perfectly well what gift he meant.

***

All afternoon my phone wouldn’t stop vibrating. Bruno sent me photos: himself in the bathroom mirror, his friends pulling down their pants amid laughter, young bodies offering themselves to the camera like a challenge. With each image the temperature rose, pushing me to imagine myself among them, surrounded, available.

I stretched out on the bed with the phone resting on my chest. I let my hand slide down on its own, slowly, until it found my clit, and I stroked myself unhurriedly while I went over each photo. The orgasm came softly, almost shyly, and made me clamp my thighs together hard. When my breathing settled again, I grabbed the phone and typed a single line: “Where do I meet you?”

The answer took a while, but I was calm. I knew him. He had wanted me for too long to leave me waiting.

I opened the closet and stood there, torn between the clothes. I could go dressed like my usual discreet aunt, or I could go as what I really wanted to be that night. I chose the second. I wanted to embody the photos he kept, the same ones his friends had surely already looked at a hundred times.

I worked my hair into a wet look, like I’d just stepped out of the shower. I lined my eyes with blue shadow and dark mascara, and painted my lips a red that left no room for doubt. I put on a sheer black blouse, with no bra underneath, letting my breasts be guessed beneath the fabric. Below, my favorite leather pants, the ones that fit like a second skin and left my lower back bare. I turned in front of the mirror and liked what I saw. That night I wasn’t going to be anyone’s aunt.

***

I drove fast. When I arrived at the house, the air was already thick with smoke and alcohol. Bruno came out to meet me as soon as I got out of the car and rested his hand on my waist with newfound confidence.

—Let them see me —I whispered into his ear, and walked forward hanging on his arm.

—My aunt is here! —he shouted to the group, and made me spin around so everyone could look me up and down.

There were five or six of them, all Bruno’s age, in their early twenties, with that mix of shyness and swagger youth and alcohol give you. I took the glass from one of their hands and emptied it in a single swallow. I like it when the alcohol goes in first, when it becomes the prelude to everything else.

—I want to dance —I announced.

The music got louder and I lost myself among them. I let their hands travel over my back, my hips, let them grow bolder little by little. Every time one of them tried to go too far, I set the rule with a smile.

—Bruno first —I warned them—. We’ll see after that.

I took off my shoes. I turned my back to them and, looking over my shoulder, I lowered my leather pants with calculated slowness until I was left in only a tiny thong and the heels I had put back on. I kept dancing like that, feeling the circle closing around me.

One of the boys unfastened my blouse from behind and seized my breasts with desperate urgency, as if he were afraid it would end before it began. I took another long drink and, one by one, I made them sit in a ring to watch. I flung the blouse away. All I had left was skin, heels, and that strip of fabric.

***

I took Bruno by the hand and dragged him into the center of the circle. I let myself fall backward onto the carpet, spread my legs and started touching myself, moaning, inviting him to take what was already his. He freed his pants clumsily and settled between my thighs.

—I’ve wanted you for a long time, Auntie —he panted against my neck.

I lifted my legs onto his shoulders and took him all the way in. He thrust deep, with a force that knocked the air out of me, and started moving fast, without restraint. My moans mixed with his and with the murmurs of the others, who had come closer so they wouldn’t miss a thing.

—Harder —I asked him—. Get it out of your system for making you wait so long.

His thrusts became rougher. He squeezed my nipples, turned my face with his open palm, and I arched my back begging for more. The group egged him on just inches from us, and hearing them excited me even more. I wrapped my legs around him, pulled him toward me, sought his weight over my body until he drove himself in one last time with a growl and collapsed beside me, drenched in sweat.

—This is just getting started —he told me with a crooked smile.

I stood up, naked in front of all of them, still feeling my legs tremble.

***

I walked among them without a trace of shame, lifted by the heels that marked every step. I searched my purse for a cigarette, took a long drag from the one one of the boys offered me, and leaned against the kitchen counter. My heart was galloping and my sex was soaked, throbbing on its own.

I sat on the edge, opened my legs, and started playing with myself again, giving them the view while my breathing went increasingly out of control. Watching them masturbate around me, with that anxiety of young animals, took me to the edge right away. I moistened my fingers and rubbed myself furiously until the air filled with my moans and their panting, in a ragged chorus.

—Use me —I asked through clenched teeth—. That’s what I came for.

I came to an orgasm that folded me over the counter and left me offering them my back. Hands vied for my skin, fighting over my hips, over my breasts. In the reflection of the glass wall I saw how hard they were getting again, ready to keep going.

The quietest one in the group was watching me from an armchair, eyes blazing. I went over, sat astride him and mashed my breasts against his face. I opened his pants and took him in with one movement, starting to ride him with electric urgency.

—Come on —I whispered—. Don’t fall behind.

***

A shove threw me off and sent me to the floor.

—On the floor —Bruno ordered, lifting me by the hair.

He took me to the counter and crushed my cheek against the cold surface. The boy from the armchair settled in behind me and pushed in slowly, working his way inside, while Bruno held me by the shoulders from the other side, looking me straight in the eyes.

—Ask for it —he told me.

—More —I answered, and that was all he needed.

Then a third climbed onto the counter in front of me and offered me his cock. I took him into my mouth, running my tongue over him, feeling how the one behind me set an increasingly fast rhythm. The one behind came first, then the one in front, and I kept asking for more, holding them there, not wanting it to stop.

—Pass her over —another one demanded, hard again.

Bruno dragged me over to the sofa. He pulled my hair and slapped my ass, laughing, handing me around among his friends as if I were the gift he had demanded at the auditorium door. And I, far from resisting, shoved my body against theirs, seeking every удар, every hand, every centimeter of that madness I had come looking for myself.

***

They used me for a long while, taking turns amid laughter, loving insults, and gasps. I set the pace even if it seemed otherwise: it was me pushing myself against them, me asking for more, me guiding them with my voice. When they finally finished, one after another, I lay sprawled on the sofa with marked skin and broken breath, empty and full at the same time.

After that we threw ourselves into the pool. We floated in the cold water passing a bottle of rum from hand to hand, and I went to the edge only to take a drag from the joint the ones who stayed outside were smoking. Every time I got close, some hand would roam over me again, no longer with urgency, almost with tenderness.

Between the smoke and the laughter, they wanted to understand. They couldn’t wrap their heads around how a woman like me —a well-bred, professional lady, with her life in order— could also be the one standing in front of them. I told them straight out: that I adore showing myself off, that that other woman is also me, and that at night, far from the people who know me, I allow myself to be exactly what I want to be. Bruno told them my stories as if they were trophies.

It was only then, laughing, that I found out what their names were. Damián, Tomás, Iván, Lautaro. Had it not been for that oversight, they would have left without my ever knowing who they had been.

***

The next day, well into the afternoon, the house slowly came back to life. I got dressed in jeans and a high-neck blouse, a fabric armor that covered the marks from the night before. We were eating when Don Aníbal, Bruno’s grandfather, arrived to pick them up.

I noticed right away that he was looking at me differently. There was something new in his eyes, a silent appraisal that ran over me from head to toe.

Everyone said goodbye and got into the pickup, except Tomás, the youngest, who preferred to stay a little longer with me. Before pulling out, Don Aníbal came over to kiss me on the cheek. He lingered a second too long, holding the moment.

—Bruno sent me some photos —he whispered in my ear—. I’ll call you.

He climbed into the pickup and drove away, leaving me with my heart racing again and the certainty that that night had been only the beginning of something I had no intention of stopping.