First Time

The will said my family’s fortune had been built between my mother’s legs. That very night I understood it was now my turn.

I slipped barefoot to the chapel at midnight to ask forgiveness for my dreams. I never imagined something waited coiled in the shadows, ready to teach me what my body had kept silent.

I had never told anyone that my body wouldn’t respond. I confessed it to her, my mother’s friend, never imagining she would end up teaching me everything I was missing.

That night she would perform the ritual for the first time: naked, bound to the stallion, with a veteran warrior ready to wrench from her the pleasure that belonged to the goddess.

I’d spent two years imagining this day. I had no idea a suited fifty-something, with his gaze locked on mine, would decide for me what my first time would be like.

I’d gone days without hearing from her, dreaming of her orders. That afternoon I walked through a door I shouldn’t have and discovered how far I was willing to go.

I never had the courage to expose myself. Until today. Tomorrow I’m going to class naked under my clothes, and writing it here already feels like your first order.

I walked through that door convinced I knew my limits. Three hours later I realized I was only just beginning to discover them, trembling between fear and a hunger I couldn’t name.

When she lowered her eyes to those white, sweaty sneakers, she knew she would obey anything that girl asked of her. And that was only the beginning.

She had been training with plugs for weeks, determined to feel two cocks at once. That afternoon we invited the only person we could trust to make it happen.

A car braked beside me and asked my price. I was thirty-seven, a lawyer, and for once I decided not to say no to the madness.

He was my best friend, my confidant. That night at the fair, between wine and laughter, his hand on my waist ignited something I had never felt for him.

I thought it was an innocent game of glances at the traffic light. I never imagined that on a Saturday morning I’d knock on his door with the most foolish excuse in the world.

I always knew my mother was different from the others, but not until that morning did I understand how different, or how far I was willing to go.

I waited for the doors to close. Diego was already kissing his girlfriend openly, and her sister kept glancing at me, biting her lip, not knowing what to do with her hands.

I’ve never done it, but I know every detail: the café, the elevator, his hands. This is the fantasy that repeats itself and that I never dare say out loud.

I’d sworn her virginity was nonnegotiable. That morning, in the apartment a friend lent me, she showed me just how far she was willing to go.

It began with a twisted ankle on the court and ended many weeks later, one night when her house was empty and there was no longer any reason to hold back.

I first saw her cheering from the stands, with wet hair and that easy laugh. Ten days later, behind the fronton, she taught me something I’ve never forgotten.

We had arranged to exchange some photos. What neither of us said out loud was that this reunion had been waiting months to happen.