The Gay Fantasy My Friend's Father Awakened
I knew nothing could ever happen between Don Rodrigo and me. But I found a way to make it real, even if only once, even if no one else knew.
I knew nothing could ever happen between Don Rodrigo and me. But I found a way to make it real, even if only once, even if no one else knew.
Every morning I wake in my cage with the vibrators in place, waiting for Master to come down for me. Today will be a very long day.
The moon lit the stream, fireflies flitted around me, and I was alone in the forest with my desire and a toy I hadn’t planned to use.
I woke up with the sheets damp from the dream I’d had. I touched myself before getting out of bed. And the whole day was the same: my body with its own agenda.
The first time I saw him, I knew he was a mistake. A mistake I spent three years avoiding, until the night he knocked on my door at two in the morning.
It started as a night of pizza and fernet. It ended with each girl confessing the dirtiest erotic fantasy she’d ever said out loud.
It was after one, and on that hidden park bench I lowered the hem with two fingers to see how long I could hold out before running home.
Valentina had been looking at her differently all day. When the last guest left, the three of them went up to the suite and the silence said it all.
Heat, the sea, and two couples who are far too comfortable with each other. When the two men went off to buy beers, none of them imagined what they’d end up talking about.
She had spent months searching for the perfect mud that would swallow her whole. When she finally found it, she knew that afternoon would be different.
She was just a name on a long list. When she turned on her camera, everything I believed about desire changed forever.
I’d gone months without opening the hidden folder on my phone. That night, insomnia and desire decided for me.
With the trunk open, the valley blazing behind them, and him asking if I wanted to fuck there. That afternoon became exactly what neither of them expected.
A hidden cove, a lookout over the sea, and a bet: he had one minute to make her come before they got caught.
I accepted without thinking. I read everything he posted. I never liked a single post. Three years later, I still don’t dare write to him, but I think of him every night.
I’d always liked men. Or so I thought—until the night my friend looked at me differently, and something inside me answered before I could choose.
I was walking alone when Ernesto leaned out of the bus window and called me by name. I should have kept going, but something in his voice stopped me.
The July heat, an ice-cold beer, and their rough hands. At forty-two, I discovered desire has no age or shame.
When I leaned out the window to rest for a moment, I saw them in the pool. Naked, kissing, utterly oblivious to the world. I knew that year would be very different.