The Rehearsal in the Fish Tank Changed Both of Us

We were both wearing tight-fitting silver briefs and nothing else. It was part of the act, part of the visual impact the director wanted for the show's opening.

Sebastián and I came from the world of artistic gymnastics, so the producer hadn't hired us solely for our sculpted bodies, but also for the strength and flexibility the illusion trick required. The premiere was the next day, and I had insisted on running through the finale one more time before we left.

—One run-through and we're out —I told him.

—Just one —he repeated.

We barely knew each other. We'd been together in the warehouse for two days, but Sebastián was every bit as professional as I was and agreed without arguing. We were alone in the hall. The technical crew had already left, and only the stage lights remained on.

We climbed onto the mechanical platform that was supposed to lower us into the reinforced glass box. A fish tank, really: just over a square meter of floor space and two meters high. We both had our hands cuffed behind our backs to give the act some drama, but the key was hidden in Sebastián's closed fist. There was no mystery to the trick for us, not a single point where anything could go wrong.

Or so we thought.

As the platform descended, water began filling the box through side valves. A second outer wall, almost invisible, filled at the same time. The audience was going to see us submerged for ten seconds. Then a large black cloth would fall over the tank, I would use my foot to activate a lever concealed in the base, a hatch would release the water from the inner compartment into a hidden reservoir, and we, already free of the cuffs, would exit through the back wall.

That was the secret: the water the audience continued seeing after the cloth was removed was always between the two outer walls. A clean illusion. No trap for us.

We didn't use the large cloth during rehearsal, but we did use the timer projected onto the hall's wall.

We reached the bottom. The water covered our heads.

I waited ten seconds, counting mentally, and activated the first lever with my foot. I felt the level dropping around us. When the water reached our mouths, I opened my eyes and looked at Sebastián, waiting for him to take the key from his fist.

—Mateo —he said, his voice cracking—. Mateo, I dropped it.

—What?

—The key. It slipped out when the water came in. I'm so sorry.

I swallowed. The premiere was the next day. This couldn't be happening.

—Relax —I said, though inside I blamed him a little—. Tomorrow there'll be two assistants behind the box with spare keys. If one falls, someone will open it for us from outside. There's no time to look for it today. We have to get out.

The water finished draining, and I used my foot to activate the second lever, the one that opened the back wall. It didn't give. I tried again. I pushed harder, and the lever barely moved a millimeter before locking up again.

—It's jammed —I said.

—Let me try —Sebastián replied, and he swung his leg over mine to reach the lever with his other foot.

The space was too narrow for two bodies to cross without touching. As he moved, his hip pressed against mine, and my cuffed hands behind my back collided with his crotch. Sebastián had a heavy bulge beneath his wet briefs, and every time he stepped on the lever, that bulge moved against my fingers.

—Sebas —I said.

—I'm sorry. All of this is my fault.

I looked at him and saw that he was on the verge of frustration. I decided not to say anything about the bulge. I told him to stop, breathe, calm down. We were tired and distraught, and kicking the lever wasn't going to open it.

—We have to get our hands in front of us —he said—. If we could pass our arms underneath our feet, we could work the lever with our hands.

He tried. He lowered his torso as far as the space allowed, but his arms reached the floor before his legs could pass over them. I tried the same thing and knocked my forehead against his chest. There was no way. The box was too narrow.

—Lift me up —I said.

He looked at me without understanding.

—Lift me to the edge of the box. If I get up there, I can brace my hands on the edge, pass my legs through the loop formed by my arms, and free myself. Then I'll jump down from outside and open it for you.

Sebastián nodded. He was taller and more muscular than I was, and he knew it. He crouched as far as he could and offered me his knees. I placed one foot on each knee and began to climb, my back pressed against the glass wall and my cuffed arms bouncing against the glass.

It was going well until I shifted my footing. When I tried to bring my right leg up onto Sebastián's shoulder, my briefs split between my legs with a sharp sound. My left foot shook, and I fell back onto his knees.

—Are you all right?

—Yes. My briefs tore.

—No one can see us. Try again.

I tried again. I brought my leg onto his shoulder, and just as I began to shift my weight, Sebastián turned his head.

—Hey, hey, no, no —he said, laughing nervously—. Your balls are hanging in my face.

It was true. The tear in my briefs had opened wider with the movement, and I could feel it: cool air against my testicles, the wet fabric hanging uselessly to one side.

—Sorry.

—Let's take it slowly. Put your foot farther forward, on my waist.

I tried it that way. I placed my foot on the elastic of his briefs, at his hip. When I straightened up to bring my other foot up, his briefs began sliding down.

—Climb fast or you're going to leave me naked —he said through his teeth.

I brought one foot to his shoulder. His briefs dropped all the way down, exposing half his cock. Mine was already hanging completely outside the torn briefs. I gave him an apologetic grimace, and he looked away.

—It doesn't matter —he said—. Keep going. There's no other way.

I brought up my other foot. My knee sank into his shoulder. The foot on the other side slipped, and I ended up hanging there with both knees on his shoulders, my ass against his chest. His skin was hot, sweaty, hard. My naked testicles were pressed against that firm pectoral muscle, and a shiver ran up my spine.

—Now climb with your back against the wall —he instructed, breathless from the effort.

I began sliding my back upward. As I climbed, my thighs brushed his neck and shoulders, and the contact between his sweaty skin and mine grew more and more intimate. My cock began to respond. I didn't want it to happen and tried to think about anything else, but the friction was constant, and the tear in my briefs was hiding nothing anymore.

Sebastián noticed.

—Are you getting hard, Mateo? —he said in a tone meant to sound mocking, but it came out unsettled—. Are you gay or something?

—I'm not gay —I shouted back—. My balls are out and you're rubbing against everything. It's a reflex.

I tightened my abdomen to climb faster. My briefs split all the way, and my cock sprang free, already hard, striking him in the cheek.

—Get that out of my face! —he protested—. I'm not gay either!

—Nobody's gay! —I shot back, breathless—. What do you want me to do?

—Climb. Climb higher and get that out of my face.

I pressed my back against the wall and pushed with my legs to raise my hips. My cock ended up above his face, but my testicles rested against his mouth.

—Now I have your balls in my face —he said.

—I'm straining, Sebas. I can't do any more.

He spoke against my skin. I felt the warmth of his breath, the moisture of his lips, drops of saliva running down the curve of my thigh. Every word he said brushed against my testicles. Something inside me loosened. My cock grew harder. The foot I was bracing on his shoulder began to tremble.

—Almost there —he said—. Brace yourself on my shoulder and push upward.

I placed my foot on his shoulder. That forced me to spread myself. My body shifted forward and, instead of my testicles, what I now had against Sebastián's mouth was my ass. I felt his breath there. I felt his lips close by. I felt something run from the nape of my neck to my heels.

—At least I don't have your balls in my face anymore —he murmured, and as he spoke, he moved his lips against that area.

—Sebas.

—What?

—Your face is in my ass.

—It's on purpose —he said sarcastically—. You put up with it now. It's my turn to be uncomfortable.

He was speaking with his mouth pressed against me. Every syllable made me shudder. And then, suddenly, I felt his tongue. Once. Twice. My whole body convulsed, and a sound escaped me that wasn't any normal noise.

—Sebas.

—Sorry —he said—. It slipped out.

—It's all right.

—It's all right —he repeated.

It wasn't all right. But his tongue returned. And now more slowly, longer, more insistently. I clenched my teeth to keep from moaning and didn't quite manage it. My cock was hard as a rock thirty centimeters from his face and dripping onto his chest.

—Nobody's gay —he said quietly, almost asking permission.

—Nobody's gay —I answered, my voice breaking.

His tongue entered. Just the tip. My virgin ass clenched around that warm intrusion, and my hips moved on their own, seeking more. I let out a moan I could no longer disguise.

—Sebas, I can't make it. Put me down. I'm out of strength.

He pulled his head away, breathing hard. I began sliding downward. My cock passed across his face, leaving a shiny trail on his chin. When I dropped a little farther, my feet caught against his arms, cuffed behind his back. I was left hanging, my waist suspended in the air and his body directly beneath me.

My wet ass descended another centimeter and met something hard and hot.

—Sebas?

—Sorry —he said, alarmed, almost frightened—. It affected me. It's not that I... it's not that I'm turned on. It's the rubbing.

His voice trembled. My body kept slowly falling, pushed by gravity and by the angle at which my feet had become caught. The head of his cock pressed against my entrance. I felt it there, asking permission without asking. My weight dropped a little farther.

And it entered. Just the head, but it entered.

We both let out a sound at the same time. His was a mixture of fright and pleasure. Mine was something I didn't know how to name.

—It's inside —I told him, my voice reduced to a thread.

—Mateo, I'm not moving. Don't move. I don't...

But I was moving. I couldn't help it. Every spasm in my thighs lowered me another millimeter onto him. Instead of climbing, my body wanted to descend.

—Think about something else —I told him—. Think about anything.

—I'm thinking. I'm thinking.

He closed his eyes. His cock began to lose some of its hardness. But it wasn't working the way I expected: as it softened, my body took it in more easily. Three more centimeters slid in all at once.

—No, no, no —I corrected myself—. Stay hard. If you soften, it goes in farther. And you're huge.

A nervous smile escaped him. That must have sounded like a compliment. His cock hardened suddenly and sank a little deeper into me. I moaned, he moaned too, and we both turned our faces away so we wouldn't look at each other.

—Sebas. Think of something specific. Something that turns you on. But quickly, we have to finish this.

—Something that turns me on?

—Anything.

He was silent for a few seconds. Then he said in a whisper:

—Can I tell you the truth?

—Tell me.

—I've been thinking about your balls in my face. About your ass in my mouth. That got me hard. I didn't want it to, but...

My own cock jerked at his words. There was a second of silence between us in which each of us weighed what had just happened. I realized that hearing him confess that I'd turned him on had excited me even more. Sebastián had more than half his cock inside me. Instead of thinking about how to get out, I was thinking about how to let him put it all the way in.

—We're not gay —he said softly, as if he had to say it aloud to keep it true—. Right?

—No —I said.

—And no one will find out.

—No one.

Silence. His cock throbbed inside me. My ass, which had been afraid of it a minute earlier, now clung to it. I drew a breath.

—Sebas —I told him—. I think the only way to get us unstuck is for you to finish.

—What?

—Come. Ejaculate. Then you'll soften, it will slide out on its own, and we'll go home.

—Seriously?

—Seriously.

—And what should I think about?

—What you just told me. My ass in your mouth.

I said it and surprised myself. Any remaining excuse fell from my lips. Sebastián slowly opened his eyes and looked at me for the first time with all his desire in plain sight.

—Can I move? —he asked.

—Move.

He planted his feet firmly and began thrusting his hips upward. Every thrust shook me from head to toe. My cock struck against his abdomen and left a shiny mark on his skin. My ass, which had been a virgin until five minutes earlier, opened and closed around all that hot flesh with a rhythm I had never learned anywhere.

Just as we were beginning to find our rhythm, the back lever gave way with a sharp snap. The box's door came loose. We could get out.

There was a second of silence. We both heard it. We both knew what it meant.

—Don't stop —I said.

Sebastián's face caught fire. He pushed harder. Every blow of his hips against mine echoed through the empty box. His testicles bounced against my body every time he thrust all the way in, and my cock jerked without me touching it, spilling fluid over both of us.

—Your ass turns me on —he said, panting—. It's so tight.

—Don't apologize. I want to feel all of it. All of it.

That finally let him go. He began pounding into me without caring about the noise. In the empty hall of the warehouse, the slap of his body against mine echoed, along with the creak of the cuffs against the glass and both of us moaning shamelessly. My feet came free on their own from where they had been caught against his arms. I braced my heels against the wall behind him and pushed too, setting a deeper rhythm.

—Sebas —I warned him—. Sebas, I can't take it.

—Me neither. Me neither.

One last thrust, longer and deeper, and I felt Sebastián's entire body tremble against mine. His hot spurts filled me inside. My own cock shook on its own and spilled over his abdomen, chest, and chin. We were both drenched, panting, the muscles in our necks taut and our hearts pounding against the glass walls.

We looked at each other. There was embarrassment, but also complicity. Without saying a word, we separated. The back door had been open for some time. We climbed out of the box, removed the cuffs with the keys kept in the director's room, and went into the showers without speaking.

***

When I returned to the dressing room, I found Sebastián dressed and groomed, sitting on the bench with his bag at his feet.

—Tomorrow at the show —I told him— we'll get out of the box faster, right?

He laughed. I watched him laugh and laughed too. That laughter helped us release what tension remained and conceal, somewhere nameless, the silent decision to stay behind and rehearse again. Alone. After everyone else had left.