The Day I Discovered Men Desired Me

I had spent twelve years being exactly what was expected of me. I got up at seven, woke the boys, took them to school, stopped at the market, came home, cooked, cleaned, helped with homework, and waited for Rodrigo to get home from work so I could repeat the cycle the next day. I didn’t complain about that life. I also never asked myself whether I wanted something different.

The break came in the stupidest way imaginable.

Rodrigo came home one Tuesday mentioning, almost in passing, that the woman in the building across the street had gotten breast surgery. He didn’t say it maliciously; it was barely a neighborhood observation. But something about that comment kept spinning around in my head for days. If I had something done to myself, would they look at me like that too? Would someone turn around to watch me in the street?

I started watching the neighbor when our paths crossed. Men turned their heads when she passed. The guys from the workshop on the corner would stop working for a second. Even Rodrigo, who had always been discreet, took an extra second to look away. I watched that and felt something I wouldn’t have known how to name very well: it wasn’t exactly jealousy, it was more a curiosity about myself, about what I could awaken in others if I set my mind to it.

I’m not the kind of woman who attracts attention like that. I have wide hips and a small chest, and I had never cared much about what other people thought of my body. But that observation about the neighbor lit up something I didn’t know I had switched off.

I started changing small things. I’d go out in a tighter blouse, in jeans that flattered me better. Nothing scandalous. And that was when I started noticing that some men were looking. Not all of them, not always, but there was something there. A lingering look at the market, a sidelong smile at the bus stop, a comment said almost as he passed by. I liked it more than I expected. I liked it quite a lot, and that discovery unsettled me and pleased me at the same time.

***

Near my house there’s a dirt lot where boys always gather to play and kill time. I had seen them a thousand times from the window, but I had never paid attention. One Wednesday, on my way to the market, I decided to go that way instead of taking my usual route.

There were four or five of them, all in their early twenties. One lifted his eyes when I came near. Then the others did too.

Let them look at me, I thought. Let them really look.

I stopped and asked if any of them could come help with some branches that had fallen over the back fence of my house. Big, heavy ones that my husband couldn’t move alone. I said I’d call them when I needed them. On the way back I noticed one of them watching me walk away, and that put me in a mood I hadn’t felt in years.

I started passing by there often. I invented excuses to take that street. I’d say hello, exchange a few words, linger for a few minutes and keep going. I already knew their names. The tallest one was Darío. The calmest one, Beto. The one who always looked me in the eye when we talked was called Matías.

Matías must have been twenty-two. He had that way of moving young men have when they still don’t know how much power they really have. One afternoon, when I said goodbye and started walking away, I heard his steps behind me.

—I’ll help you with that —he said, pointing at the bags.

—No need —I replied, not very convincingly.

We walked half a block almost without speaking. Before the corner where I had to turn, I felt his hand on my back, barely resting there, almost like an accident. Then it slid down slowly and brushed the top of my thigh, and kept going until he squeezed one of my ass cheeks over my jeans, fully, with a big hand that took me in completely. I stopped. He stopped too. I felt his breath close to my ear and, without letting go of my ass, he whispered:

—You’ve got an ass that’s had me crazy since the first time I saw you.

—Sorry —he said a second later, with a smile. But he wasn’t serious, and we both knew it.

I smiled back and turned the corner without saying anything else. My heart was pounding hard all the way home. That night, while Rodrigo slept beside me, I lay awake for more than an hour thinking about that hand on my ass, about how slowly he had let it slide down, as if he knew exactly what he was doing. I slipped my hand inside my panties without making a sound and touched my clit thinking about him, about his low voice saying filthy things in my ear, about how it would feel to have his cock inside me. I came biting my lip, with Rodrigo breathing beside me and knowing nothing at all.

***

For almost three weeks I didn’t see him. I passed by the lot and Matías wasn’t there. They told me he was working outside the neighborhood. It was a wait I hadn’t expected to feel so strongly, that kind of absence that makes you realize how much you’d been thinking about someone.

It changed on a Thursday when Rodrigo hired a mason to fix dampness in the basement. The man arrived with his helper. The helper was Matías.

I couldn’t believe it.

Rodrigo set them up downstairs, with the rotten boards that had to be replaced. Before leaving for the office, he left the mason checking the garage and Matías with the heavy work in the basement. I didn’t have to suggest anything. I just nodded when Rodrigo proposed it.

I went downstairs with a bottle of water about twenty minutes after Rodrigo left.

—Do you need anything? —I asked from the stairs.

He turned around. He was wearing a sleeveless T-shirt and had wood dust on his forearms. He looked at me in a way that left no room for doubt.

—Yeah —he said—. I need you. Come over here.

I came down the last step. I moved too close, and we both knew it. He grabbed the nape of my neck and kissed me hard, shoving his tongue all the way into my mouth, while with his other hand he had already hiked up my skirt and was squeezing my pussy over my panties. I felt the fabric was wet. He felt it too, because he only pulled his mouth slightly away from mine and said, with a crooked smile:

—You’re soaked, you little bitch. You were waiting for me.

—Shut up —I told him— and do it fast.

He unbuttoned his jeans and yanked his cock out. It was hard, thick, bigger than I had imagined on the nights in bed beside my husband. He put it in my hand and made me squeeze it. I turned around without him asking, put my hands on the edge of the worktable, and pulled my panties and skirt down to my knees on my own. There was something about that gesture, about offering him my ass before he asked for it, that I found more arousing than anything I had ever done before.

He took me by the hips, ran the tip of his cock up and down my slit, soaking himself in my juices, and with one thrust shoved it all the way in. A moan slipped out of me that I had to bite back against his shoulder. Upstairs, the mason was making noise with the tools, dry hammer blows that covered my whimpers. Outside, the street kept going on as usual. Matías started fucking me slowly, his cock coming all the way in and out each time, taking his time to feel my cunt squeezing around him. Then he found his rhythm and started pounding me harder, grabbing my hair, yanking my head back.

—That’s how you like it, huh? —he said in my ear—. Tell me you like the way I fuck you.

—Yeah —I answered through clenched teeth—, like that, don’t stop, harder.

He grabbed a piece of cardboard off the table and shoved it in my mouth so I’d bite down and not scream. The blows of his pelvis against my ass made a wet noise that embarrassed me and turned me on at the same time. He slipped a hand under me and found my clit with two fingers while he kept fucking me from behind. He started rubbing fast circles and I felt my legs drawing inward. I came biting down on the cardboard, squeezing his cock with my cunt like I never wanted to let it go. He pulled out, turned me around, sat me on the edge of the table, spread my legs open, and shoved it back in from the front. He kept at it until he came too, outside, over my stomach and the tits he had uncovered with his free hand.

We spent close to an hour down there. Time passed strangely, as it usually does when you’re doing something you know you shouldn’t be doing. When he was done, he cleaned me carefully using his T-shirt, fixed my clothes, and I went back upstairs to the kitchen as if nothing had happened. I put the kettle on, took a mug from the cabinet, sat down by the window with my cunt still throbbing between my legs.

What did I do, I thought. And then: how good that was.

***

Two weeks passed. Rodrigo didn’t notice anything, or if he did, he didn’t say anything. I moved around the house with a strange feeling, as if I had found something I thought I didn’t have.

The following Saturday, about twenty minutes after Rodrigo left, someone knocked on the door. It was Matías.

I let him in. I offered him coffee. We sat in the kitchen and talked for ten minutes about nothing, the kind of conversation that exists only so time can pass until what the two of us were really thinking about.

Then he asked if we could do it again, but differently this time. Without a condom. Bare. He wanted to come inside me.

I stayed quiet for a moment, looking at him.

—I’m afraid your husband might come back —he said—. And of getting you pregnant. But I’m dying to fill you up inside and watch it all drip down your legs.

—Rodrigo doesn’t get back before two —I answered—. And I can’t get pregnant. They tied my tubes years ago. So come here and fill me up as many times as you want.

I hadn’t even finished the sentence when he was already getting up from the chair. He took my hand, led me into the hall, and pushed me down right there on the rug with an urgency I hadn’t expected. He yanked off my pants and panties in one motion, spread my legs open, and lowered his face between my thighs. He ate my pussy slowly at first, with his tongue flat, from bottom to top, then found my clit with the tip of it and started licking it in circles, slipping two fingers into me at the same time. I grabbed his hair with both hands and pressed his head against me, grinding my hips against his mouth without a shred of shame. He made me come like that, with his tongue, in less than five minutes, and he didn’t give me time to recover before he was already climbing up my body, kissing my stomach, my tits, my neck, until he found my mouth tasting of my own cunt.

He fucked me right there in the hallway, bare for the first time. I felt him differently without the condom, hotter, more pressed against the walls of my cunt. He stayed still for a second inside me, his eyes closed.

—Holy shit —he muttered—, you have no idea how that feels.

—Fuck me —I answered—, fuck me until you can’t anymore.

He started moving over me, propped on his elbows, his face ten centimeters from mine, staring straight at me. I don’t know how long that first time lasted, but he came inside me with a long thrust and a groan that came from his chest. I felt the hot spurt painting me from within and sank my nails into his back. He stayed inside until he softened, and when he pulled out, a thread of semen dripped down to my asshole. He stared at it, smiling.

—I told you I wanted to see this.

Then we crawled to the living room. He put me on all fours on the rug, grabbing my hair with one hand and my ass with the other, and shoved it back in with his cock still smeared from the first time. He drove it all the way in, without care, knocking the air out of me with every thrust. He spread my cheeks with his thumbs so he could watch clearly how it went in and out, and he spit on my asshole before pressing it with his finger while he kept fucking my cunt. I was in such a state that I couldn’t protest anything anymore, I said yes to everything, moaned yes to everything, shoved my ass back toward him begging for more.

We finished on the sofa. I was on top of him, my tits hanging close to his face, riding his cock up and down at my own pace. He sucked my nipples, grabbed my ass, gave me hard smacks that left the shape of his hand behind. He stared straight into my eyes while we were at it, without looking away, and that, more than anything else, was what finally did me in.

He came inside me three more times that afternoon. Between each time we would stay still, talk a little, or simply look at each other without saying anything, with his cock still soft inside me, feeling it harden again just from seeing my face. I lost track of the hour. When he finally left, it was 12:15 and I was on the sofa, unable to get up for several minutes, my mind completely blank, my body exhausted in the best possible way, and semen slowly dripping from between my legs onto the sofa fabric.

***

After that, something in me changed for good, and there was no going back.

I started wanting more. Not just with Matías, who kept coming by whenever he could. With Rodrigo too, more often than usual, with an energy he didn’t know in me and accepted with surprise and without questions. I had desires I didn’t remember ever having, or maybe I had always had them and never knew what to do with them. I asked him to fuck me when he got home from work, asked him to eat me out before bed, things I had never dared say out loud in twelve years of marriage.

There were weeks when I did it so often that I ended up sore, with my cunt swollen and burning, and still I wanted to keep going. It was a new feeling, almost uncomfortable because it was so intense. Every so often I wondered what kind of person I was to want so much cock. Then I stopped wondering because, honestly, the answer didn’t matter to me.

What I did know was that there was something in me that twelve years of routine had kept very still, and now that it was awake it had no intention of going back to sleep.

I still don’t know how long I can keep this up, or whether what I really want is something more. There are days when desire gets the better of me and I think about things that would never have crossed my mind before: Darío and Beto watching me while Matías fucks me, letting two of them have me at once, worse things. I still don’t know exactly what to do with that. But I’m not in any hurry to figure it out either.

The only thing I know for sure is that that Tuesday when Rodrigo came home talking about the neighbor and her breasts was, without either of us knowing it, the beginning of everything that came after.