Lovers

The light barely came through the blinds, she was still asleep, and all I could think about was one thing: losing myself between her legs before she opened her eyes.

I’m writing this knowing you’re going to read it, even if you pretend you didn’t. And knowing, too, the exact way your body used to respond when you thought no one was watching.

When she confessed the favor she wanted to ask me, I thought she was kidding. Her best friend was broken, and Lorena had decided I was the cure.

It was almost eleven when she walked through the door with that smile I knew too well, the same one she wore whenever something forbidden had just happened between her legs.

Bruno carried me aloft, pinned to his body as if I weighed nothing, and I let myself go. What I never imagined was that someone was watching us from the window across the way, camera in hand.

I’d spent a year listening to her describe who touched her while I only watched. That New Year’s Eve, with a glass in her hand, she whispered in my ear that this time I wouldn’t be left out.

The door was half open, and while I was spying on my friend with two strangers, a hand turned me by the waist. It was him. And he smiled at me as if we both already knew.

I’d been fantasizing about dogging for years, but I never imagined she’d be the one to lead me to the far end of that industrial estate, with a surprise waiting in the hedges.

I love my wife and know she loves me. That’s why I never understood why seeing her surrender to another man became the fantasy I couldn’t get out of my head.

Her husband only had eyes for the other woman’s cleavage. Marina and I looked at each other from the far end of the living room and, without saying a word, we’d already said everything.

It began as a game of words in bed. It ended with me getting into another man’s car while my husband waited in the casino, knowing everything.

I came to that dinner expecting a glass of wine and an escape to the countryside afterward. I ended up kneeling in front of a stranger while my lover watched.

I accepted the dinner knowing how it would end. What he didn’t know was that every touch in the dim light was part of a plan I made before I took my clothes off.

For months he had been sleeping beside a woman who prayed instead of touching him. Then he walked into the veterinarian’s office, and she locked the door.

They had never met in person, only photos and messages charged with desire. But she was coming to his city, and this time fantasy threatened to become real.

Her husband hadn’t touched her in months. That night at the nightclub, I saw a small red ribbon hanging from her blouse and understood exactly what it meant.

I was waiting with my suitcases packed to leave him. But when he started telling me what happened with her, I discovered my body was reacting differently than my pride.

I finished getting dressed on the edge of that bed and understood there was no turning back: the dutiful wife was dead, and I wanted more, much more.

Her husband came home exhausted and fell asleep in front of the television. Her boss, on the other hand, looked at her as though he knew exactly what she imagined in the shower.

Two months pregnant, I opened my phone and saw my husband with a coworker. I didn’t cry as much as I expected: I started counting how many fucks he owed me.