Oral

I thought it would be just one afternoon and one stranger. I never imagined each one would teach me something different, or that the third would leave me voiceless for two days.

She came out of the bathroom in lingerie, posed in front of me, and asked how hot she was on a scale of one to ten. I already knew where that night would end.

The first time barely hurt; this time I climbed on top and set the pace, determined to show him everything I had learned to feel.

I rolled down the window and spoke to her with my back still turned. When she turned, I knew that freckled blonde was going to change my whole weekend.

Her boyfriend smiled at us and said love wasn’t exclusive. That same afternoon Marisol came up to the hotel room with us.

His family was eating at the big table while he fucked me in the stable, moving with desperate urgency, as if they could walk in at any second.

When he arrived that night, I was already on the other side of the glass with the lights off, watching her greet him with a smile she had never shown me.

I climbed over her garden fence at nine at night thinking only of confessing my feelings. I left with a video that was going to change both our lives.

I grew up between prayers and prohibitions, convinced that pleasure was sin. Until the woman next door sat beside me on the bus and everything began to change.

I parked outside the house, my hands sweating. It was my first session with a naked client, and I still didn’t know I’d end up with two men on top of me.

I’d been trying for years to get her to give in again. That afternoon, between joints and caresses on the couch, she sat up and kissed me like before.

He knew me when I was a shy boy. Years later I opened the door to him dressed and made up, and in his eyes I saw there was nothing left of the friend he thought he knew.

I came out of the shower wrapped in a towel, knowing my father was alone. That night I wanted to see how far he’d dare go without alcohol.

When I moved her panties aside to tend her wound, I thought she’d protest. But she only pressed her face into the pillow and opened her legs a little wider.

I’d never been attracted to men, but that figure on the screen stirred something I couldn’t name. Then she offered to pay me.

The first time I went out on the street dressed as a woman, my legs were shaking. Ten years later, nothing feels better than being watched.

Under my track pants I wore only fishnets and a lace thong. I wasn’t looking for just any doorway: I was looking for the place where they’d treat me like an object.

When he opened his shirt and I felt his cologne fill the kitchen, I knew that breakfast with my nephew wasn’t going to end with a quiet coffee.

I only knew Beatriz because she was my wife’s friend. One night she came down to the kitchen with an unexpected proposal.

My wife agreed to pay an expert to massage me in front of her, but she didn’t expect to discover how much pleasure it gave her to watch another woman make me moan.