First Time

I arrived at the concert expecting him to take me to bed. It never crossed my mind that it would be his girlfriend who would drag me into the bathroom after the third song.

Her mom went out on an errand, her sister left with her friend, and we were left alone. Camila opened her biology book and started asking questions no teacher answers.

Renata had been watching her for two years in the office halls. One night, after closing a big bid, she finally let the tension turn into something more.

I went into the booth thinking it was just another routine afternoon. I came out a different woman, with the taste of a kiss that should never have happened.

Carla went into the isolated festival bathroom desperate for a piss and ended up hypnotized by the pink pubic hair of the stranger peeing in front of her.

I’d been buying her chocolates and roses for months without knowing what to expect. That afternoon, in the taxi home from work, she leaned into my ear and everything changed.

When Inés opened the tent flap, her girlfriend was already on top of another girl, still panting from an orgasm that wasn’t hers.

The key fell into the water and the back door jammed. Trapped in a one-meter-square box, handcuffed and half-naked, we discovered something neither of us expected.

I got off the museum ship with my head spinning. That same night, facing the Pacific, a woman I barely knew kissed me like no man had ever kissed me before.

When I started drifting off on the couch, I felt her hand climbing up my thigh. I looked up and Camila was staring at me with a smile I didn’t know yet.

When I opened the door at ten in the morning, I had no idea a favor with an iPhone would end with him moaning on his back in my bed.

I thought I already knew what pleasure was until that night, barefoot in the sand, when an unfamiliar hand pushed my hair off my neck.

I came back sunburned and my aunt called me to her room to soothe me with cream. When her hands reached my hips, I knew something between us had changed.

I was twenty-one and had never been with anyone. A message on an app led me to room fourteen of a motel five blocks from home.

We went up to her room with our hearts racing, knowing her parents were asleep on the other side of the hallway and that any noise could ruin everything.

I came out of the bathroom with my mouth smeared and a new pulse between my legs. She, with my red lipstick on her lips, didn’t know her boyfriend was already watching.

I used to go downstairs to comfort her when she cried. What I didn’t know was that her tears would lead me to her neck, her skin, and the realization that I wanted her differently.

Camila was waiting for me seated on the edge of the bed, and I didn’t know where to put my hands. I only knew that night I was going to learn something no man had ever taught me.

She was 20 and had never had a real orgasm. That sticky January night, with half a bottle of rosé, my French cousin decided it was time.

I climbed onto the chair in front of the mirror, legs in the air for the photos my girlfriend asked for. I didn’t expect him to walk in, or what came after.