First Time

My heart was racing and my legs were tight. I didn’t want to look, didn’t want to think; I only wanted him to keep going and finally discover what I’d imagined so many times.

I had been bathing naked in that creek for years, believing it was mine alone. That afternoon, among the brush, two young eyes watched me without shame.

For eons I knew only the silence of the void. Until I hooked a signal in a blue world and, without asking permission, slipped into the body of a woman on fire.

I had just turned twenty-two and had never been with anyone. Iván was three years younger, but one stupid bet was enough to show me who was in charge.

Four months alone in the mountains had left him with a hunger no whisky could soothe. That night, behind the inn’s red curtain, three boys knew exactly how to take him in.

It was two in the morning when he agreed to cross my threshold. He only asked for three things, and the third was the one that excited me most: that he could change his mind whenever he wanted.

We’d been at sea for weeks, and the old boatswain had been looking at me differently. That midnight, when I finished my watch, I knocked on his door without imagining what he’d ask of me.

I had spent years sneaking onto the site just to look. That summer afternoon, I finally decided to open the door to one of them.

We sat there like any two friends, but we both knew why we’d come. When the door closed, neither of us dared take the first step.

It was three in the morning when I felt his mouth searching for me in the dark, and I knew this time I’d be the one to guide him to the end.

Twenty years old, a virgin, and shut away among comics. My father thought a trip to the country would make me a man. He never imagined who would be waiting there.

I went trembling into that dark apartment to wait for a man I had never seen. What happened that afternoon marked me for the rest of my life.

That stone basement beneath his neighbor’s house became my secret school, where Tomás and his brother taught me everything I was afraid to name.

They called themselves brothers, men, untouchable. But every excuse —the creatine, the exhaustion, the technique— hid the same truth neither dared name.

He took off his sweat-soaked shirt in front of me, not knowing I’d heard everything from the shower. What I offered him that afternoon changed his idea of pleasure.

I hadn’t thought about my own body in ten years. It only took that masseur digging his fingers into my back for something I thought impossible to start waking up.

He lowered his voice to a rough whisper on the other side of the partition, and I knew I’d never sit across from him in a meeting again without remembering it.

They had spent their whole lives inseparable, but that afternoon, alone on the sofa, neither of them wanted to pretend that kiss had been an accident.

I knew that the moment I crossed his door there’d be no turning back: today I was going to let him do me for real, and I’d spent the whole week imagining it.

I was drunk on the subway when I opened the app out of boredom. I had no idea that message from a stranger would end with me on my knees in a dark storage room.