Forbidden

I promised I’d only tell true stories, so here’s how my mom found out about my older boyfriend... and how I accidentally found out what she really did.

No one at the party suspected a thing: to everyone we were just friends. But that dawn Adrián took the road to the hillside estate, and I knew we were done pretending.

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’ve never been attracted to men, but the thick cock of a macho who knows how to give orders drives me wild. Does that make me bisexual or something worse? I need someone to tell me.

At eighty-seven, he thought he’d heard everything. Then she knelt on the other side of the grille and started telling him what she did when her husband traveled.

I’ve always hated public bathrooms, but that day I had no choice. What I never imagined was what I’d find when I ran back for the phone I’d left on top of the water tank.

I opened the door wrapped in a towel, still wet, convinced it was a package. It was him, with flowers in one hand and a smile that promised nothing innocent.

I’m not telling this to ease my conscience, but to confess how far I was willing to go that afternoon, with him asleep on the table and her only feet away.

It began as an academic interest in the brightest student in the group. What ended up happening in my office is still hard for me to put into words.

I picked up the fork she had dropped and, bending under the table, discovered something none of the adults suspected. That night everything changed.

The first time I heard her through the partition, I froze, holding my breath, pretending to be asleep while she believed she was completely alone.

I recognized the basket of clothes that wasn’t mine, and before I could think, my hand was already buried in his things. What happened next changed me from the inside.

My brother told me everything: his lovers, his fetishes, what he did with Romina. What he never imagined was that one night I’d end up in bed with her, without him.

I found her panties on the hallway floor, with a note on top. From that night on, we played a game neither of us wanted to end.

I knew those two hadn’t invited me fishing just to fish. And if I’m honest, I hadn’t said yes for the river alone either.

I knew he’d wanted me for months, and I wasn’t going to stop until I had him in my bed. What I didn’t count on was who would catch us afterward.

I thought I was alone among the hanging laundry—until a voice asked if I liked her panties, and there was no turning back.

I had never smelled another woman’s desire until that afternoon, standing in the hallway with my flatmate’s soaked garment in my hands and my pulse racing.

I kept it for more than a decade. It all started because of a pair of white stockings and ended in a car at two in the morning with the last person I should have gotten involved with.

I wanted to surprise him in the shower, like every afternoon. I slipped naked behind that broad back and, when it started to turn, I realized it wasn’t my boyfriend.