Lingerie

I spent forty-seven years being exactly who I was supposed to be. One night, holding my wife’s lingerie in my hands, changed that forever.

I always believed I was a man like any other. Until I discovered lingerie, dildos, and the certainty that something in me had been sleeping, waiting to wake.

I stood in the doorway with my wine in hand and looked at him from far away. He looked up. I smiled. No more words were needed.

When I asked her to open her legs a little and the guy in the back couldn’t stop staring, I knew that fantasy was only the beginning.

Two twenty-year-old guys sneak into the neighbor’s house while she’s showering. What happens when she catches them is something none of them will ever forget.

I asked her to wear the shortest skirt she owned and wait for the delivery driver. I hid behind the sofa. What happened went beyond anything we'd imagined.

I was wearing my boldest lingerie and hoping someone would notice me. When he appeared among the gardens and saw me cross my legs, I knew the week would be different.

I slipped into the hotel pool at night in lingerie and a snug toy, convinced I’d be alone. Someone was watching me from the dark bar.

Matías was burying himself in me slowly while I tried not to make a sound. Then I heard the door open and knew she’d come back earlier than expected.

Every time she squeezed my hand, I understood it: she was crossing and uncrossing her legs so he could see everything.

I was wearing my mother-in-law’s black lingerie when the door opened. Behind Lucía wasn’t just Patricia. My mother was there too.

They came down to the kitchen with serious looks on their faces. I thought it was over. What they said next turned that night into something none of us could undo.

The Saturday the house was empty, my mother-in-law came into the kitchen barefoot, wearing lingerie that wasn’t for her husband, and smiled like she already knew the ending.

The dress was French-blue voile, almost transparent. My father was in front of me. My husband to the left. And the French guest still didn’t understand what was going to happen that night.

I went up to the hotel wearing a red lace set under the dress he still hadn’t seen. We’d been waiting seven months for that moment.

Alone at home, wearing a thong and red lipstick, I looked in the mirror and felt no shame. I felt something far more interesting.

She wore fishnet stockings and a black skirt. I stood two meters away playing the stranger while he devoured her with his eyes from the floor.

I had waited months for that Saturday. High heels, lace lingerie, the estate all to myself. No one was supposed to see me. Then Roberto from the estate across the way arrived.

On December 23, while she cooked with her back to me, I changed in silence. When I said “oh, oh, oh,” she froze. The rest of the night was ours.

I showed up in lace and high heels expecting Héctor. Diego opened the door with an ironic smile and I couldn’t get a single word out. But the heels changed everything.