Strangers

That night I put on the red thong, the fishnets, and the wig in front of the hotel mirror, and for the first time I didn’t recognize the same old boy.

Nobody knows. Not even the person I sleep with every night. But when I close my eyes I see myself in front of the mirror, transformed into someone else, ready for him.

I was on all fours, shaking, ass up, my own cock dripping on its own. He’d barely put the tip in and I was already begging him to break me completely.

No one in that house knew what I was hiding under the black dress. No one except him, the masked stranger I handed it to in a dark hallway.

I rolled down the window, exchanged a few words with her, and invited her in. I had no idea that the dark-haired girl on the unlit corner was waiting for me with a surprise between her legs.

Less than a hundred meters from the music and champagne, she spread her legs in the sun, not knowing someone was coming down the path. When she saw him, it was already too late to close them.

I was twenty-two and had never been with another man. When I pushed open the ajar door to 5B, I knew I wouldn’t leave that night the same man I’d been when I walked in.

They thought the cove was empty. I stayed behind the rock, holding my breath, watching her move on top of him as the sky turned orange.

I’m 55, with a calm husband and dreams that leave my body burning. That night, in a restaurant storeroom, I understood I could no longer keep pretending.

It was my first serious job: door-to-door sales. I never imagined that behind that townhouse there would be a man, a camera, and the afternoon that would change everything.

Everyone suspects what I am from the way I dress, but I never confirm it. It’s my secret, and telling it anonymously turns me on more than anything else.

She went into the fitting room in front of me with seven bikinis. The curtain didn’t quite close, and by the third one she knew I was watching.

When I stepped through the curtain marked “only studs,” I had no idea I’d end up holding a cock while its owner got fucked in front of me.

Four men, a thick envelope on the table, and me deciding who I’d call over first. My rule was always the same: I choose, I set the pace, and I leave whenever I feel like it.

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

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.

The dress hugged my body, the stockings brushed me with every step, and when that man held out his hand to dance, I knew I wouldn’t be going home the same.

When Inés opened the door to the two men in uniform at exactly midnight, I knew the promise of a quiet night had been a delicious lie.

I looked in the mirror with my wig on and my sheer dress, and I knew that night I was going to let a stranger do everything to me I’d been imagining for weeks.