What I Let Happen on the Bus and After

That afternoon I was heading home on the usual bus, with grocery bags hanging from my arms and my body practically begging me to sit down. I do it every week, but this time the heat felt different, heavier, and I’d been carrying it around with me ever since I got out of bed.

At twenty-four and seven months pregnant, you get tired twice as fast. The problem was that the bus was packed, not a single free seat, so I stayed on my feet, holding onto the pole and waiting for someone to get up.

And while I waited, the hands started.

I don’t know if it was the swaying of the bus or the urge to take advantage, but the bodies around me started edging closer than they should have. I had nowhere to move away to. Crushed people, hot air, and me in the middle, feeling them rub against me with no shame at all. The worst part of it was that, instead of annoying me, it was driving me wild.

An older man, with a gray beard and a calm gaze, brushed one of my breasts with his arm every time the bus braked. He did it slowly, pretending it was just the movement, but we both knew it wasn’t. Another, behind me, was bolder: he lifted my skirt a little, already short enough as it was, and stroked my ass with a slowness that made me bite my lip.

I shouldn’t be enjoying this.

But I was enjoying it. I never understood why pregnancy made me like that, with my skin burning and my body ready for almost anything. I pretended not to notice, looked out the window, and let them do it.

When a seat finally opened up, I dropped into it with a sigh. The two men ended up sitting right across from me, and from there they devoured me with their eyes. With my belly, it was hard to keep my legs closed, and every bump in the road opened them a little wider. They didn’t miss a thing. I wasn’t doing much to stop it either.

When we got to my stop, the shameless bastards got up before I did. One held my arm to help me down, the other carried my bags without being asked. When I told them I lived a couple of blocks away, they offered to walk me home, and I couldn’t think of a single reason to say no.

***

We got to my place laughing and making stupid comments about the heat. I offered them something cold to drink, as thanks for their help, and they accepted without making me beg.

—Hey, gorgeous, your husband isn’t going to mind? —the bearded one asked, glancing down the hallway out of the corner of his eye.

—Don’t worry, I live alone —I replied, pouring two glasses with a smile that wasn’t nearly as innocent as my face.

—Alone? How come? —the other one said, settling into the armchair.

—Ever since I got pregnant by my father-in-law and his wife asked me to leave —I blurted out, pretending to be a little sad.

Both of them went stone-still, glasses halfway to their mouths.

—By your… father-in-law? —the bearded one repeated, incredulous.

—My husband wasn’t taking care of me the way he should, and his father took care of me until he left me like this —I said, stroking my belly—. I had to get out of that house.

—And don’t you feel lonely? —the other one asked, lowering his voice.

—Very much so —I murmured, letting out a sigh that sounded more like an invitation than sadness.

We sat on the sofa, me in the middle. The bearded one put an arm behind my shoulders, as if to comfort me, and that’s how we stayed for quite a while. They drank, talked about anything and everything, and with each sip they got looser, bolder in what they said and in the way they looked at me.

At some point I turned my face to look at him, and he took my chin and kissed me. Slowly at first, almost carefully. I kissed him back shyly, and without thinking too much about it I let one hand drop onto his thigh, right over the bulge that was already starting to show.

That was enough. The kiss turned hungry, his hand slipped inside my blouse and squeezed one breast with the urgency of someone who’d been holding back for a while. I felt him harden under my fingers, and I squeezed a little more just to hear him groan.

The other one couldn’t stand to keep watching. He gently spread my legs, pulled down my underwear, and laid me on my side on the sofa. Before I could say anything, his mouth was already between my thighs, licking me with a patience that made my back arch.

I grabbed his head and guided him against me, with no shame at all, already completely surrendered. The bearded one stood up, unbuttoned his pants, and offered me his cock. I took him into my mouth slowly, tasting him, while the other one kept working below.

What a pair of men. Neither of them was in a hurry, and both of them knew exactly where to touch. They made me come once with their tongues, once with their fingers, and by the time they fucked me I was beyond any embarrassment. We spent a good part of the afternoon like that, changing positions, taking turns, until they left me sprawled on the sofa, wrecked and weak, with a stupid smile I couldn’t wipe off my face.

***

When I went out to see them off, I was wearing little more than a short, sheer robe that didn’t hide much of anything. And that was when I saw him.

Across the street, leaning against the door of his workshop, was Aníbal, the neighborhood mechanic. He was watching us discreetly, but you didn’t have to be very bright to connect the dots: two older men leaving the house of the neighbor who lives alone, her in a robe in the middle of the afternoon. I smiled at him flirtatiously, as a greeting, and when I turned to go back inside I made sure he got more of a view than he probably should have.

A few days later, the craving came back. This time with a first and last name: Aníbal. He was a big man, built from hauling parts and pushing cars, with enormous hands I’d spent days imagining all over my body. I’m not entirely sure why I got him stuck in my head, but there he was.

So I put on a short skirt, a low-cut blouse, took an empty little cup from the cabinet, and crossed the street to the workshop.

I knocked on the door, and when he opened it, Aníbal stared at me, dumbstruck. More than half my breast was showing, and my sweet-girl face with that smile finished throwing him completely off balance. Without waiting for him to react, I stepped into his house, showing him the little cup.

—Aníbal, I came to see if you’ll give me a little milk —I said, biting my lip.

That’s when I noticed he wasn’t alone. Two other men were talking with him, work matters, apparently.

—Sorry, I mean a little sugar —I corrected myself, but it was too late. It was crystal clear what I’d come for.

The two strangers looked at each other and then looked at me, as if their mouths were watering. By their faces, I figured they’d been talking about me right before I arrived.

—I was telling them that the other day you brought two guys into your house, but they didn’t believe me —Aníbal confessed, wanting me to confirm it so he’d look good.

—There’s probably a reason they didn’t believe you —I replied with a shrug and a smile—. I don’t know how you tell people things like that. What are these gentlemen going to think of me?

—Don’t worry, gorgeous, come sit with us —one of them said, making room for me on the sofa, between the three of them.

When I sat down, my neckline opened just enough for them to notice I wasn’t wearing a bra.

—Jesus, you’re not wearing anything under there —murmured the one on my left, unable to look away.

The one across from me lowered his gaze to my legs and muttered, almost scandalized:

—She’s not wearing underwear either.

—This woman came prepared —the third one said, nervous and excited in equal measure.

—Oh, don’t think badly of me —I protested, pretending to be offended—. I was just going to take a shower, I only wanted a little milk for my coffee.

Nobody believed me, of course. And that was exactly the plan.

—Don’t worry, gorgeous —Aníbal said, no longer bothering to hide it—. Between the three of us, we’ll give you all the milk you need.

They stood me up and started undressing me, the three of them, slowly, with hands everywhere. I didn’t resist. On the contrary: I let them do it, let them take whatever liberties they wanted with me.

One kissed my breasts while another knelt and licked me until I saw stars. Aníbal, behind me, stroked my ass and played with the slickness of his fingers at my back entrance, one first, then another, until I felt that huge hand of his toying with me. I was in heaven. All three of them knew exactly how to set me on fire.

They laid me out on the workshop table, among the smell of oil and metal, and Aníbal fucked me with a thrust that tore a long moan out of me. While one filled my mouth and the other rubbed my clit and bit my breasts, all I could think was that I had never felt so desired, so completely surrendered.

They finished one after another, and I did too, more times than I could count. When I got home, well into the night, with the little cup still empty, I laughed to myself in front of the mirror. I never got the milk for my coffee. But the truth is, I’d gone for something else, and I came back more than satisfied.