Confessions

I promised I’d only tell true stories, so here’s how my mom found out about my older boyfriend... and how I accidentally found out what she really did.

Fresh out of the shower, I looked in the mirror and realized I couldn’t keep waiting. I took a sheet of paper and started writing down everything I’d wanted for years and never dared to do.

Damián came every three days; Adrián showed up Friday on his motorbike. That week I found out just how far I could go when nobody was looking.

He was my best friend, my confidant. That fair-night between wine and laughter, his hand on my waist sparked something I had never felt for him.

I never get involved with clients, I told him. But his body was already pressed against mine and my own voice sounded like a lie as I closed the garage gate.

I served that house since I was a boy and watched as that woman’s fire-red mane brought the valley’s most powerful men to their knees, one by one, by day of the week.

My friend promised me a wild costume night. I put on the sexiest outfit in the sex shop and headed out, not imagining what was waiting for me at that bar.

No one at the party suspected a thing: to everyone we were just friends. But that dawn Adrián took the road to the hillside estate, and I knew we were done pretending.

I always told myself my indiscretions were the alcohol’s fault. That morning, sober and in broad daylight, I knew I’d been lying to myself.

I saw his name on the screen and knew I shouldn’t answer. But I did, and the moment I heard his voice I was again the woman I swore I’d never be.

I parked beside her car, never guessing that my free afternoon would end with her climbing into mine in the darkest corner of the garage.

The phone rang and it was him, offering me a session that same afternoon. From his tone, I knew we weren’t going to talk only about massages.

I returned the apartment keys and, without planning it, that week ended with the confession I never thought I’d tell anyone: two men, a friend, and a single night.

From the dance floor we were already sneaking our hands to each other; what we didn’t finish in the car, we continued in my room, unhurried and unclothed.

I told him I’d come in sweaty and needed a shower. He carried me to the sofa and whispered that, with my scent, he liked me even more.

I swear this is a real story, one you don’t tell out loud. She appeared from the hedges almost naked, asked me for a light, and everything else just happened.

The hum of the air conditioner was the soundtrack to her golden cage. That night, a blown tire left her before three strangers and on the edge of what she had never allowed herself to want.

I thought it was just an innocent game of glances at a traffic light. I never imagined that one Saturday morning I’d ring his doorbell with the most ridiculous excuse.

I’ve never been attracted to men, but the thick cock of a macho who knows how to give orders drives me wild. Does that make me bisexual or something worse? I need someone to tell me.

Dommes squeeze, ring, burn them. We barely lick. The first time I looked at a pair up close was in a student flat, long before I knelt before anyone.