First Time

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 fair-night between wine and laughter, his hand on my waist sparked something I had never felt for him.

I thought it was just an innocent game of glances at a traffic light. I never imagined that one Saturday morning I’d ring his doorbell with the most ridiculous excuse.

I always knew my mother was different from the others, but not until that dawn 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 without a care, 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 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 aloud was that this reunion had been waiting for months to happen.

For years I told myself I was the typical straight guy. I was lying. My hand jobs were for the guys in the locker room, and it took me too long to admit it.

I came to Buenos Aires to save up a little money for my family. I never imagined the nicest house in the neighborhood would change my life the way it did.

At eighteen I entered medical school with the country’s highest score. At twenty-four I still didn’t know what an orgasm was. This is my story.

That afternoon, in the silence of the house, an accidental brush revealed a language my body spoke and I still didn’t know how to read.

She was coming of age, and the entire sanctuary held its breath as she walked naked to the altar where her two mothers waited, ready to initiate her.

All my classmates sighed over him, but none of them knew what I hid beneath the masculine uniform the world forced me to wear.