Oral

He’d wanted those lips in silence for years. That night, fighting over the console controller, his mouth fell on mine and everything shattered.

I opened the door convinced it was my husband. I was in my underwear, hair messy, and barefoot. When I saw who it was, I knew I wouldn’t be able to shut it in time.

We were alone that March siesta, and she was still in her uniform. I don’t know how we went from tickling on the sofa to something else.

I saw the bus driver watching us in the rearview mirror and, instead of covering up, I let him pull down my top. At three in the morning, my ex and I were a free show.

He’d kept the app open for months without saying a word. The night he finally replied, there was a discreet hotel and a man named Iván waiting for him.

The beer had made us affectionate and the terrace seemed empty. Until I saw the flash of binoculars trained on us from the hill.

The shop was empty at three in the afternoon. When he pulled the shutter down and led me to the fitting room, I knew that siesta wouldn’t be like any other.

I got out of the car just to pick up a package, and there he was—the skinny boy who used to watch me in a bikini—now a man, looking at me like he still had a thousand questions.

When Camila came out of the room dressed as a devil with a trident in her hand, I knew we weren’t going to sleep virgins that night.

When I went barefoot to the kitchen at three in the morning, my son was already there shirtless, looking at me like a man, not a boy, and I knew I’d give in that night.

It was two in the morning, I opened the window looking for air, and saw her lying on the sofa across the way, with no idea anyone was watching her.

We were supposed to meet at the fountain, but they didn’t show. Then I got the photo: my girlfriend kneeling in front of my boyfriend, in the back bathroom, waiting for me to finally walk in.

As soon as the lights went out, she stood up from her seat and settled herself in front of us both. What happened next was no trailer.

At seven on December 31 I didn’t want to go back to the hotel and be alone. I remembered the booth place three blocks away and pushed the door open without thinking twice.

Marcos never said anything without purpose. But that afternoon in the woods, every word he spoke was a line inviting me to cross with no way back.

When he opened the door wearing only his shirt, I knew we weren’t going to talk much that afternoon. And I wasn’t wrong at all.

When the door opened, I was still pressing his briefs to my face. He looked at me with a smile that wasn’t angry, but something much worse.

When she hung up the phone in tears, I knew she’d end up at my place that night. What I didn’t know then was how far we were both willing to go.

I sat down in front of him, took his hands, and started talking. I knew every word tied me more tightly to him, even if it hurt like a badly placed caress.

Andrés had spent years asking for more than she could give. That night, Lucía set the knife on the counter, looked at her son, and proposed something none of them would forget.