Oral

I had endured months of her games, but that night the jokes finally ended. What came after had no name for either of us.

After weeks of silence, she called to ask if I was alone. Half an hour later, she was at my door in a floral dress, with something to give me.

I’d been in the swinger world as a single guy for months until I was summoned to an apartment and recognized my best friend’s grandmother serving me whiskey.

I announced myself, as we always did. He told me to come in. I found him in the bathroom, shaving, naked. He had the body I’d tried not to look at for months.

She was reading about succubi when a voice answered her question from the other side of the room. It wasn’t a dream: the creature was already there.

I brought wine to his room at eleven at night under the pretense that I couldn’t sleep. We both knew it was a lie, but neither of us said it out loud.

When she opened the door she wasn’t wearing makeup, and her gaze held a melancholy that hit my chest before we exchanged a single word.

My friends were late and he appeared without my calling him. Ten minutes later, we both already knew where we were going to end up.

I went to fix his washing machine with a red thong under my pants. I only had to find the moment for him to notice. He said nothing, but he kept watching.

I slipped in quietly and found him by the window, absorbed in what was happening across the street. My youngest son was no longer a boy, and I saw everything.

I arrived at their apartment at the agreed time. He opened the door in a bathrobe; she came down later, nervous and excited. It would be a long night.

The first time I saw him at that dinner, I knew that man was unlike the others. Months later, I was the one asking him for more.

Diego sent me affectionate messages while I was, inside that jacuzzi, feeling Sergio’s hands on my waist and pushing my ass back against him.

When the canvas opened in the middle of the night, we knew what had begun between us was turning into something much bigger.

I didn’t realize what kind of neighborhood I’d wandered into until Valeria stopped in front of the hostel. Then I understood everything—and went in anyway.

Daniela was twenty, lived on the fourth floor, and had never been with a woman. That day, all of that changed at once.

My son organized the evening without telling me his plans. I understood when he took his guest to the bedroom and left me alone on the sofa with his friend.

I was at the end of my rope. Out of money and out of options, I dialed Rodrigo’s number knowing exactly what it meant to see him again.

Three months without seeing each other, and the moment she stepped off the plane I knew something was going to happen. What I didn’t count on was witnesses on the beach that night.

They had been friends for years. All coupled, all jealous, convinced it was just another dinner. Then Daniela brought out the cards.