Confessions

I woke with one fixed idea between my legs and a name on my tongue. That morning, all of Pamplona smelled like sex to me, and I only wanted to find her.

There are confessions that get stuck in your throat. This is one of them, and I’m telling it exactly as it happened: shamelessly, uncensored, and with a huge smile.

I always thought it was something for easy girls. Then I knelt in front of him, looked into the antique mirror, and realized I’d been wrong for years.

If you’ve never had a good blowjob, you don’t know what I’m talking about. And no, I don’t mean coming in her mouth. I’m going to tell you the secret I discovered by chance.

There are mornings when I wake up wet, my nipples hard, with one fixed thought. Another of my heat weeks has begun and no one at home suspects what I’m hiding.

When they came back in, Noa was already naked and Andrés had hold of her from behind. I knew none of the five of us would sleep alone in our bed that night.

Three men, one woman at the center of the bed, and one rule everyone respected. That night, Noelia discovered something that bound her to one of them forever.

The parish priest asked me to stay after the church was empty. What happened in his office became my Sunday secret, and I don’t want it to end.

I was in my pajamas, coffee half-finished and a scorching novel in my hands, when I heard his key in the door and knew that morning wouldn’t end with reading.

I accepted the assignment thinking it was just another job. I had no idea that man from the calendar would get under my skin until he became impossible to forget.

I followed him down the corridor without thinking, my heart in my throat. I knew that if I pushed that door there’d be no going back, and I pushed it anyway.

I knew his eyes were fixed on my back as I undressed by the wardrobe. I left the bathroom door ajar on purpose: the invitation had been served.

I booked the empty time slot and wore the tightest T-shirt I owned. What I didn’t expect was to find two men waiting for me on the tatami.

When Tobías’s teacher gave me her personal number “in case anything urgent came up,” I knew it had nothing to do with my son’s grades.

We had exchanged hundreds of photos, but nothing had ever happened in person. Until that March afternoon when I picked her up and she already had a plan.

He lived three doorways away from me and only wanted porn and mutual wanking. What I learned about him that afternoon changed everything between us.

That afternoon she came home in black, painted her lips in the mirror, and left saying she was sleeping at a friend’s place. It took years to learn where she was really going.

When my husband got up to go to the bathroom, I knew the man at the next table would come over. I still hadn’t told him I was afraid to go back to something like that.

She told me she had never said this out loud, that for years it had been only a hidden fantasy. That afternoon, she finally let a stranger do whatever he wanted to her.

For years his wife called me “the mistress.” But I never was. I was his sex worker, and this is the truth she never wanted to hear.