Masturbation

I put on the already worn sneakers and thick socks, ready for a full day of sightseeing. He had no idea every step was a gift prepared for him.

Every time I crossed my legs in class, his eyes went down on their own. It took me two Tuesdays and one Friday to get him to invite me to the private reading room.

There were five of us in the apartment, it was cold, and someone put on the wrong disc. That afternoon I learned that stupid bets are sometimes the best ones to lose.

It was five-thirty when I heard her voice on the other side of the door. What I heard next left me frozen in the hallway for ten minutes.

She had spent centuries in the shadows without desiring anything. But when she saw me alone in the library, something in her changed forever.

I close my eyes and she appears: tall, dark, with a cock I never expected to find—and now can’t get out of my head.

I closed the laptop and could still feel his imaginary hands on my skin, the deep voice giving orders I obeyed without hesitation. A fantasy so real it left me shaking.

I came home from practice with the images still burning in my head: Adrián’s shoulders, Gonzalo’s eyes, and the heat of the gym I couldn’t shake.

I’m twenty-eight years old and I have a list of fantasies I almost never tell anyone. This is my full confession, unfiltered.

I was about to get to the motel when his phone rang. He went white. I stayed burning hot, in my coat and stockings, twenty minutes from home.

I was nineteen and had spent weeks deliberately provoking him. I don’t regret a thing.

I had access to every screen in the place and never should have looked. But when I saw what they did with my photos, something in me lit up.

I’d been fantasizing about her for months. When she came down from the stage and put her mouth on mine, I understood that fantasy was never going to disappear.

I looked in the mirror and knew something had changed. He was still sleeping on the other side of the hallway, and I had spent ten minutes unable to look away from his door.

The package arrived on a Tuesday. I held it in my hands without opening it for ten minutes, knowing that once I did, there’d be no turning back.

I locked the door, lowered the blind, and promised myself there would be no limits tonight. I’d waited too long to discover that pleasure.

That afternoon everything seemed normal, just a get-together with friends. Until she opened my bedroom door and looked me over without asking permission.

He knew exactly what he was doing beneath that blanket. And I chose not to pull away. What came after changed our dynamic forever.

I went into the confessional with shame and came out knowing that what my son felt for me was not so different from what I was beginning to feel for him.

His hand was where it shouldn’t have been, and my voice was whispering things no son should hear. But neither of us wanted to stop.