Gay

Every night I closed my eyes and returned to the same image. I knew it was wrong, but curiosity proved stronger than any guilt.

When I climbed into the passenger seat and he said, “Look what you’re doing to me,” I knew I wouldn’t leave that taxi the same person I was before.

He arrived without warning, with that smile of someone who always gets what he wants, and in one week he turned my mother’s life, mine, and the whole neighborhood upside down.

My friendship with that rough but good-natured old man took a turn one afternoon over wine in a lost village, when he whispered what he planned to do to me.

I went in thinking I’d stop at any moment. That I’d say enough, that this wasn’t for me. Fifteen minutes later, I was crying out the opposite.

I grew up understanding naturism as something natural, but nothing prepared me for the day my mother’s boyfriend stopped covering himself in front of me.

I crossed his garden every afternoon to help with the vines, but we both knew I was really there for the way that huge man looked at me.

There was just one guy at the back, washing his hands. He looked at me in the mirror and, without a word, we both knew the wait was over.

It had been months since I’d had a good cock, so when that daddy in the white Mercedes messaged me, I didn’t think twice.

We wandered disguised as monks when the forest spat us out in front of an inn of generous flesh and bottomless wine; what happened inside could not be confessed as penance.

She climbed the stairs knowing that, once she crossed that door, the naive woman she had been until then would cease to exist forever.

We hadn’t exchanged numbers, but I knew how to find him. I went back to the chat with one thought: to have him call me his kitty again.

No one answered the intercom, but the door opened anyway. That’s when I knew there was no turning back and that man was going to do whatever he wanted with me.

I’d wanted it all summer and never dared. That afternoon, with the pool silent and no one nearby, Adrián jumped in naked and looked at me from the middle.

We both wanted him from the very first class, but we never imagined he’d be the one to ask us to choose between forgetting him or moving into his house.

His cold hand closed around my arm like a grip. I was ninety kilos of muscle, and yet in front of him I felt small, inspected, bought.

I had the pen in my hand and a lifetime of debt on the table. All he asked in return was that I leave my pride at the door.

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.

The metallic voice announced the next phase and, instead of panic, I felt something I shouldn’t have: a ridiculous urge for it all to start again.

The motel terrace connected to his, and from the dimness a deep voice called me “pretty.” I should have gone inside and locked the door. I didn’t.