It had been six weeks since I’d slept well, and her scent still weighed on the sheets. That morning, in the café on the avenue, I understood how much it costs to lose someone who still smells like they’re yours.
She climbed into the back seat with the boss’s wife thinking she was going to find me. She got out thinking about when she could see her again.
I stripped off because of the heat, closed my eyes, and suddenly there she was, in black lace lingerie, straddling me in my empty bed.
“Put on the song I told you to and start undressing slowly. Don’t rush: tonight I’m in charge, even if we’re hundreds of kilometers apart.”
The box hidden under the tree wasn’t for me. It was for her, and when she asked me to teach her how to use it, I knew the night would be nothing like we planned.
I hesitated for a couple of seconds, but the drinks had already spoken for me. I took off my dress, sat on the sofa, and let the others settle on the floor to watch.
Renata entered the dean’s office expecting a suspension. The dean locked the door, told her to stand up, and said the punishment would be very different.
I was bored, stressed, and horny when a lavender-haired girl popped into my private chat and asked if I wanted more than a simple game chat.
I heard the lock click behind me. When I turned, she was smiling with the calm of someone who had planned every step from the first look at the table.
When I saw her face on the entrance camera, I knew the prey had followed the trail back to the den. All that was left was deciding whether I’d let her cross the line.
I was half asleep, touching myself, when I felt a hand that wasn’t mine. What came next shattered every boundary I thought I had.
Her mother saw us playing around in bed and, instead of yelling, smiled at me. That same night I understood that nothing in that house was innocent—and I didn’t want to be innocent either.
I thought it would be a quiet afternoon in front of the TV, until my stepsister’s bare foot started climbing my thigh and one question changed everything.
I turned off the light, and as I settled in, I felt a lump under the sheets: it was the shorts I had lent her. I brought them to my face without thinking, and my body understood before my mind did.
We’d been talking every day for a year. On that fifth night in Seville, playing on her phone while sitting on her couch, I touched her hand by accident. Neither of us had ever been with a woman.
When everyone else went to sleep, she came to the sofa, looked me straight in the eyes, and said something I never expected to hear from a friend.
We bought the harness saying it was to practice so we could teach them. What we didn’t expect was to end up trembling against each other.
The bathtub was ready, I closed my eyes, and when I opened them she was already naked in the doorway, offering me a massage that didn’t end at my shoulders.
I imagine a woman like me: same soft skin, same mouth. We caress each other slowly until there’s no turning back and I finally live out what I’ve dreamed of alone for so many nights.
She’d been alone in that lost village for almost a year. Then two younger friends invited her over for wine, pizza, and confessions that changed everything.
