What Happened in Room 412 Was Never Told

Camila was eighteen when Tomás came into the world. The labor was long, exhausting, but when the nurse laid the baby on her chest she felt such enormous love that it scared her. Mateo was there, disheveled, deathly pale with fright, holding her hand as if it were the only thing he had. They were almost kids playing at being adults, but they decided to try together.

The first two years were a mix of tenderness and exhaustion. They lived in a two-room apartment in a neighborhood of low houses. Mateo worked in a mechanic’s shop from six in the morning until after six in the evening. He came home with grease under his nails and his body aching all over, but he always found the strength to bathe Tomás, play with him on the floor for a while, and kiss Camila on the forehead while she served dinner.

The nights were all alike. When Tomás fell asleep in the little crib next to the bed, Mateo would look for her under the sheets. He would kiss her affectionately, hike her nightgown up to her waist, and grope her tits with rough hands that still smelled faintly of gasoline. He would suck one nipple awkwardly, for only a few seconds, and then he was already settling between her legs. He would pull down his underwear, grab his cock with one hand, and shove it in straightaway, no foreplay, impatient. Camila could feel him entering her only halfway because she was almost never fully wet; it stung a little. Mateo would thrust with short, quick strokes, his breathing growing more and more ragged against her neck, and in two or three minutes he’d already come inside her with a muffled groan that bit into her shoulder. Then he would pull out, wipe himself on his T-shirt, and fall asleep. Camila would hold him and, almost always, fake her climax just beforehand so as not to hurt him, moaning softly, squeezing her cunt around the softening cock as it shrank. What they had wasn’t bad… it was simply what they had. Afterward they would fall asleep side by side, semen leaking between their legs and the boy’s breathing in the background.

Until one morning, while Tomás was napping, Camila saw an ad online: they were looking for a receptionist at Andina Logística, a company downtown. The pay was good and they promised fixed hours. She decided to try.

The interview was done by the manager himself: Eduardo.

Eduardo was around forty-eight. He was of medium height, with a belly that betrayed few hours at the gym. His hair was thin, gray at the temples, combed into a neat part. He wasn’t handsome in the classic sense, but he gave off a calmness Camila had never found in boys her age. He wore pressed shirts that pulled slightly over his stomach and smelled of a light, pleasant cologne.

During the interview he was kind and discreet. He asked about her background, about how she planned to manage with the boy. When she mentioned Tomás, Eduardo nodded slowly.

—I raised two daughters on my own after their mother left —he said in a calm tone—. I know how hard that is. If you get the job, we’ll be flexible when we need to be.

A few weeks later they called her. Camila had the job.

***

The first few days were calm. Eduardo would stop by reception every morning, greet her with a genuine smile, and ask how Tomás had slept. Little by little, the conversations grew longer. He told her stories about when his daughters were little, recommended parenting books, and from time to time left her a coffee with milk or a dulce de leche bar on the counter.

Camila started making a little more effort to get ready for the office. She wore her hair down, put on mascara, chose blouses that flattered her figure. She noticed Eduardo looked at her with appreciation, never in a crude way, but with a quiet admiration that made her feel… seen. Valued.

Mateo, by contrast, came home more and more wrecked. Conversations at home had been reduced to “How was your day?” and “Did Tomás eat yet?” The sex stayed the same: cock in, three minutes, quick load, sleep. In silence so the kid wouldn’t wake. Camila began to feel an emptiness she didn’t know how to name.

One Thursday afternoon, after an endless day, Eduardo came over to her desk when almost everyone was gone.

—Camila, it’s been a rough day. Want me to drive you home?

She hesitated for a second. She thought of Mateo waiting for her. She also thought of the packed bus and her swollen feet.

—Well… thanks —she replied with a shy smile.

In the car, the conversation flowed on its own. Eduardo drove calmly, made her laugh with the awkward story of a trip he’d taken when he was young, and before turning onto the last corner, he said:

—You’re a smart, hardworking girl, Camila. You’ve got a lot ahead of you. If you ever want to keep studying or need a hand, I’m here. No strings attached.

That night, after Mateo fell asleep, Camila sat on the edge of the bed. For the first time in a long while she felt… excited. It wasn’t just the job. It was the way Eduardo looked at her. The way he listened to her. The way he made her feel like her life could be bigger.

That feeling, so innocent on the surface, was the first crack.

***

Months went by in deceptive normality. Camila got up early, made breakfast for Mateo and Tomás, dropped the boy off at daycare, and took the bus downtown. At home everything stayed the same. In the office, though, everything felt different.

Eduardo remained the same kind man, no pressure, no out-of-place comments. He was simply there. Every morning he’d leave a coffee on the counter with a note: “To start your day with energy.” Sometimes it was chocolates, other times a new pen with a note that said “I saw yours doesn’t write well anymore.” Small details Mateo had never had the time to notice.

At lunch, when she ate alone in the break room, Eduardo would sit with his lunch container and they’d talk. He’d ask about Tomás: whether he was speaking in full sentences, whether he slept through the night. Camila found herself telling him things she didn’t even tell Mateo in such detail. Eduardo listened for real, nodded, shared his own experiences.

—Daughters grow up fast —he said with a nostalgic smile—. One day you’re carrying them around and the next they don’t want you hugging them in front of their friends. Enjoy every moment with Tomás, Camila. Even if it’s exhausting.

She nodded, but inside she felt a sting. Because yes, she enjoyed Tomás… but she also felt trapped. At twenty her life was diapers, pots, and quick silent cock.

One Thursday afternoon, just before quitting time, it started pouring hard. Camila looked at the window in resignation: she’d forgotten her umbrella. Eduardo passed by reception and saw her.

—It’s going to be a nightmare taking the bus like that —he said casually—. If you want, I can give you a lift. It’s not much of a detour.

—Only if it’s no trouble… —she agreed in a low voice.

In the car, the atmosphere was warm. Rain beat against the windshield while soft music played. Eduardo drove with one hand on the wheel and the other resting on his thigh. He didn’t try anything. He just talked.

—You’re very young, Camila —he told her, glancing at her for a second before looking back at the road—. You have your whole life ahead of you. Don’t let exhaustion take away your desire to grow. If you ever need help, or time off for something important… count on me. I’m not doing it out of obligation. You’re smart, responsible… and you have a light that shows.

Camila felt her cheeks grow warm. No one had said anything like that to her in a long time. Mateo loved her, yes, but his words were practical: “Did you eat?”, “What does Tomás need?”, “I love you.” Eduardo, on the other hand, made her feel seen as a woman.

When they arrived in front of her building, the rain was still falling. Eduardo turned off the engine and was quiet for a moment.

—Thanks for letting me give you a ride —he said with a soft smile—. Get some rest. Give Tomás a kiss for me.

Camila got out of the car with her heart racing. She climbed the stairs soaked through on the inside, even though her clothes were dry. She went into the bathroom and pulled down her panties without thinking: they were sticky, soaked, a shiny thread stretched between the fabric and her lips. She touched herself with two fingers, just a brush, and almost came right there standing up. She washed her face with cold water and came out.

That night, when Mateo looked for her under the sheets and groped her tits awkwardly before shoving his cock in as always, she closed her eyes and, for the first time without guilt, let other hands come to mind. Bigger hands, surer. A deeper voice telling her she had light. She imagined Eduardo parting her legs, licking her cunt patiently, and she pressed her hips against Mateo’s cock seeking friction on her clit. Mateo, surprised to feel how wet she was, sped up and came after two minutes with a rough groan, thinking it was his doing.

Camila didn’t come. But she didn’t fake it as well as other times either. She stayed awake, with another man’s load leaking between her thighs, imagining another load, another cock, another mouth.

***

Two more months passed. The routine at home stayed the same. In the office, though, Eduardo had become a constant, warm presence. He no longer just left her coffee: now he asked about her dreams, why she’d stopped studying, how she imagined herself in five years. He listened for real. And Camila, who had never had anyone look at her like that, began to look forward to those moments.

One Friday afternoon, after a particularly rough week, Eduardo came over to reception when almost everyone was already gone.

—Camila, you did excellent work this month —he told her with that calm smile—. Honestly, you’ve made things much easier for me. I’d like to thank you properly. Would you like to have dinner with me tonight? Nothing formal, just a quiet place. I promise I’ll get you home early.

She felt a knot in her stomach. She thought of Mateo. She thought of Tomás asking for Mom. But the idea of an adult dinner, without crying or pots, was stronger.

—Okay… but just a quick dinner —she replied, trying to sound casual.

That night she dressed up more than usual. A simple but tight black dress that showed off her hips and her breasts, still firm from youth. She put on makeup carefully: red lips, mascara, a touch of the perfume Mateo had given her for her birthday. When he asked where she was going, she lied half-truthfully and naturally:

—A month-end dinner with the team. Don’t make me dinner.

Mateo kissed her on the forehead and told her to have fun.

Eduardo picked her up. He took her to a small, elegant Italian restaurant, with dim lights and soft music. It wasn’t luxurious, but it was much better than anywhere Mateo had ever taken her. During dinner, the conversation flowed. He talked about his daughters, about how he’d built the company from scratch, about the mistakes he’d made as a father. Camila opened up more than she intended: she told him how young she had felt when she got trapped, that she wanted to study accounting, that she was tired of the routine.

He listened with absolute attention, without interrupting. At one point, when she mentioned that sometimes she felt invisible, Eduardo extended his hand across the table and brushed her fingers gently.

—You’re not invisible, Camila. You’re a young, intelligent, very beautiful woman. Anyone who can’t see that is an idiot.

The touch lasted a second, but it was electric. Camila felt heat rise up her arm and settle between her legs. She withdrew her hand slowly, but it was too late. Her cunt had reacted: her panties were damp right there at the table in the restaurant, while she crossed her legs and clenched her thighs to calm the throbbing.

After dinner, instead of taking her straight home, Eduardo suggested a short walk along the lit avenue. The night was cool. They walked side by side. At one point she stumbled and he caught her by the waist with a large, firm hand. He didn’t let go right away. Camila felt the warmth of that palm through the dress, the soft but sure pressure. Her pulse was pounding hard.

They stopped in front of a river overlook. The wind moved her hair. Eduardo turned toward her.

—Camila… I know your life is complicated —he said quietly—. I don’t want to make it more complicated. But since you came to the company I can’t stop thinking about you.

She looked at him fixedly. Eduardo’s gaze was intense, but not the hungry look of a boy her age. It was the look of a man who knew what he wanted and could wait.

—I don’t know what to say… —Camila whispered, her voice trembling.

—Don’t say anything —he replied. He lifted his hand and stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers—. I just wanted you to know. If you ever need anything, I’m here. Unconditionally.

The silence grew heavy. Camila could hear her own pulse. Eduardo took one more step. Their bodies almost touched. She could smell the cologne, feel the heat radiating from him.

And then, without thinking it through, Camila leaned in and kissed him.

It was a shy kiss at first, but Eduardo answered with devastating calm. The large hand settled on her waist and drew her against him. His lips were soft, skilled. He kissed her slowly, savoring her, sliding his tongue in with a slowness that made her moan softly against his mouth. He sucked her lower lip, bit it just a little, then pushed his tongue back in deep. Camila felt the man’s soft belly press against her flat stomach and, lower down, a hard bulge push against her pubic mound through his pants. A muffled moan escaped her. She pressed against that hardness without thinking, rubbing her pubic mound against Eduardo’s swollen cock, seeking friction, and for the first time she got truly aroused from a kiss alone: she felt her panties soak through at once, her nipples hardening under the dress, her cunt throbbing, begging to be opened right there against the overlook railing.

Eduardo parted from her slowly, breathing heavily, and ran his thumb over her swollen lip.

—I’ll drive you —he murmured in a hoarse voice, not quite letting her go—. Before I do something to you here.

On the way back neither of them spoke much. Camila had burning cheeks and sticky wetness between her legs that soaked through her panties. At a traffic light, Eduardo rested his right hand on her thigh, over the dress, and didn’t move it again. With his thumb he drew a slow circle, barely there, almost brushing her crotch. Camila opened her legs without realizing it. He didn’t go further. He stayed there, in control of her thigh, until they arrived.

When he stopped in front of her building, he turned off the engine and looked at her.

—Sweet dreams.

That night, when Mateo looked for her in bed, Camila was wetter than ever. Her panties were a puddle. Mateo entered her with a shove, groaning at how slippery she was, and told her in her ear “you’re so hot, baby.” He thought it was for him. Camila closed her eyes and, while her partner moved on top of her with his usual rhythm —clack, clack, clack, that wet, monotonous sound she knew by heart—, she imagined without guilt Eduardo’s big hands, his expert mouth, his heavy body pressing her down into the bed. She imagined her boss’s cock, thicker, longer, sinking slowly into her swollen cunt. She imagined his deep voice telling her “that’s it, my love, open up for me.”

She started moving her hips against Mateo, rubbing her clit against the boy’s pubic mound, looking for the angle. She dug her nails into his back. Mateo, fired up by that new reaction, started fucking her harder, faster, with no rhythm. He was slamming the bed into the wall. In two minutes he came inside her with a roar muffled into the pillow, filling her with warm semen.

And then, with Mateo’s cock still inside her, throbbing through its last spasms, Camila felt the orgasm hit. Real. Strong. She clenched around the cock that was softening, squeezing it, feeling her husband’s semen mix with her own slick. She bit the pillow so she wouldn’t scream the wrong name. Her whole body trembled for what felt like a minute, with Eduardo’s naked image behind her eyelids.

When Mateo pulled out, his load began to drip between her thighs, heavy, and she stayed there, legs open in the dark, slowly touching her nipples, imagining it was another man’s mouth. When her husband fell asleep, she was still with a racing heart and a delicious guilt coursing through her body.

The crack was no longer small. It was an abyss.

***

On Saturday midmorning, while she washed the breakfast dishes and Tomás played at her feet with some colored blocks, the phone vibrated on the counter:

“If you want to talk, or have a coffee away from the office, I’m available. Room 412 at the Hotel Costanera, seven in the evening. Only if you want to.”

Camila read the message three times. Mateo was at the shop and wouldn’t be back until night. Guilt hit first, cold: “You have a two-year-old son. You have a man who gets up before dawn so you won’t lack anything. What are you doing?” But beneath that guilt, like a coal no one could extinguish, something else burned: the memory of the large hand on her waist, the taste of the kiss, the hard cock against her pubic mound, the way he had looked at her as if she were the most desirable slut in the world.

Her fingers typed almost on their own:

“I’ll be there.”

At five in the afternoon, with Tomás asleep at her mother’s, Camila locked the bathroom door and turned the hot water on until steam filled the room. She undressed in front of the fogged mirror. She looked at herself with new eyes: the firm tits, the nipples hardening on their own just from thinking about what was going to happen, the soft curve of her waist, the dark hair between her legs that she had trimmed neatly that same afternoon. She stepped under the spray and let the water run down her back.

She washed herself slowly, deliberately. She used the vanilla soap she kept for special occasions. Her hands slid over her tits, lifting them, pinching the nipples until a low moan escaped her. She ran her soapy palms over her belly, down over her hips, and reached her cunt. She opened herself with two fingers and felt how swollen she already was, how slick, and it wasn’t just the soap. She brushed her clit in circular motions imagining Eduardo’s mouth there, his thick tongue licking her from bottom to top, and she had to rest her forehead against the tiles because her knees gave out. She slid her middle finger inside, slowly, then two, and started pumping herself thinking about her boss’s cock. She bit her lip to keep from moaning too loudly. She felt the orgasm approaching, brief, just a prelude, and stopped right before it: she didn’t want to empty herself there. She wanted to arrive charged, sensitive, hungry.

She got out of the shower wrapped in a towel. She rubbed cream on her legs, her thighs, her tits, massaging herself. She took her time between her legs, stroking herself with the cream, feeling how her cunt throbbed beneath her own fingers, how the inner lips swelled and pulsed.

Then she dressed for him.

First the sheer black lace lingerie she’d bought with her first paycheck and that Mateo had never seen: a bra that barely contained her tits and left the nipples outlined through the weave, a tiny pair of panties that disappeared between her inner lips and dug into the crease of her ass. Black stockings with a seam up the back, held up with garters. She looked at herself in the mirror and felt a shiver of forbidden pleasure: she looked made to be fucked by a man who wasn’t the father of her child.

Over that, the short, tight black dress with the V-neck that showed the beginnings of her tits. Ten-centimeter stiletto heels. She could barely walk in them, but they made her feel tall, dangerous, sluttier.

And finally, the perfume. She sprayed several drops on her neck, between her tits, on her wrists. Then, with a nervous smile, she lifted the dress, moved the lace panties aside, and sprayed a little directly on her shaved cunt and the insides of her thighs. She wanted Eduardo to smell her. She wanted him to know how badly she wanted him. She wanted him to bury his face there and lick her until she screamed.

I’m a bad mother. I’m a traitor, she thought. But also: for once I want to feel alive. For once I want to be fucked like a woman, not like Tomás’s mom.

***

She arrived at the Hotel Costanera at seven sharp. The elevator seemed to climb too slowly. She knocked on room 412 with a trembling hand and panties already soaked through.

Eduardo opened the door. His eyes darkened when he saw her. He didn’t say anything vulgar. He just looked her over from head to toe with deep, sincere admiration, pausing on her tits, her hips, her fitted legs.

—Camila… —he whispered in a hoarse voice—. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life.

He let her in. As soon as he closed the door, he gently pushed her against the wood and kissed her. It wasn’t a violent kiss: it was slow, deep, patient, dominant. His large hands traced her back, slid down to her ass, and squeezed it with both hands, sinking his fingers into the firm flesh through the dress, feeling the garter lace underneath. Camila moaned into his mouth and he bit her lower lip, sucked it, slid his tongue deep inside. He lifted one of her legs and hooked it around his hip. In that position she felt the hard bulge of his cock pushing between her thighs, through his pants, seeking her cunt. She rubbed herself against that hardness shamelessly, moaning, feeling the soft belly of the man press against her flat stomach.

—You’re already wet, aren’t you? —Eduardo whispered in her ear, and slid a big hand under her dress, up her thigh until he reached her panties. He felt her through the lace and sensed the fabric was drenched—. My God, baby. You’re soaked.

—Yes… —she panted—. All day like this… thinking about you.

He pulled her panties aside with two fingers and sank his middle finger into the lips of her cunt, slick and sliding. He opened her with his finger, explored her slowly until he found her clit and drew a slow circle. Camila clung to his neck, her mouth open against his shoulder, moaning softly. Eduardo slid two fingers inside her and started pumping her standing against the door, feeling how the cunt squeezed him, how warm fluid ran over his palm. His thumb kept working the clit.

—Come on, baby, come once for me —he murmured—. After that, we’ve got all night.

Camila came within a few minutes, squeezing his fingers with her cunt, biting his shoulder so she wouldn’t scream. Her knees buckled. Eduardo held her with his other arm, not taking his fingers out, feeling the contraction clamp around his knuckles again and again. Then, calmly, he withdrew his hand, brought his shiny fingers to his mouth, and sucked them while looking at her.

—Delicious —he said softly—. Come here.

He led her to the bed without haste. He lowered her dress slowly, as if unwrapping a gift, until she was standing in front of him in black lingerie, stockings, heels, her tits nearly spilling out of the bra. Eduardo sat on the edge of the bed and looked her over, with a devotion that made her legs tremble.

—Did you dress like this… for me? —he murmured.

—Yes —she whispered—. All for you.

He unhooked her bra and her tits fell free in front of his face. Dark nipples, hard, pointing toward him. Eduardo sucked one immediately, deeply, while with the other hand he squeezed and pinched the other nipple. He moved from one breast to the other, biting them lightly, licking all over them, sucking the areolas until they reddened. Camila grabbed his head and pressed it against her chest, moaning, while he groped her ass beneath the panties and dug a finger between her cheeks.

Then Eduardo slid to the floor, knelt in front of her, and made her open her legs wider. He kissed her thighs over the stockings, moving upward little by little, nibbling the soft inner skin. When he reached the slit, he pushed her panties aside with his teeth and breathed deeply against her shaved cunt.

—You smell like paradise —he murmured.

And he buried his face there. He ran his whole tongue from bottom to top, sucking, licking every fold patiently. He parted her lips with his fingers and worked her clit with the tip of his tongue, first in circles, then up and down, then sucking it whole between his lips. He pushed his tongue inside her cunt and pulled it out, wriggling it, while his thumb kept rubbing the swollen button. Camila arched against the wall, gripping his hair, moaning his name through clenched teeth.

—Eduardo… ah… don’t stop… don’t stop…

He slid two fingers inside her while still sucking her clit, curling them upward, finding that spot Mateo had never found. Camila exploded. She came a second time standing up, her legs trembling so badly he had to hold her by the ass. She felt a hot stream wetting the man’s face, and he, far from being disgusted, moaned and licked everything, sucking her clean, drawing out every last contraction with his tongue.

When he finished, he ran his tongue over her soaked thighs and stood up, his face shining. He kissed her on the mouth and Camila felt herself on his lips, her own taste, and that turned her on even more.

—Now I’m going to fuck you slowly —Eduardo told her in her ear—. Like you deserve.

He undressed calmly in front of her. His body was mature, soft, with that belly she no longer saw as a flaw but as part of him. And between his legs, thick and veined, longer and wider than Mateo’s, his cock hung swollen, pointing upward, the tip glistening with fluid. Camila licked her lips without realizing it. She stepped closer, knelt, and took it in both hands. She held it with reverence, feeling the weight, the heat, the thick vein running underneath. She licked it from base to tip, following that vein with her tongue. She sucked his balls, one and then the other, taking them whole into her mouth. She returned to the tip and took the whole cock in, closing her lips around it, taking it into her throat until her eyes watered. She started sucking it hungrily, bobbing her head, making wet noises, while with one hand she squeezed his balls and with the other she touched her cunt.

Eduardo groaned low and grabbed her head with both hands, setting the rhythm. He looked her in the eyes while she sucked him.

—That’s it, my love, that’s it… you suck it so well… look how hard you’ve got it all for yourself…

Camila pulled back and licked him along the sides, looking at him, spitting a thick line over the tip to lubricate it better. She took him back in and fucked him with her mouth until he had to pull out.

—Enough, baby, or I’ll come, and I want to fuck you first.

He lifted her, laid her on her back on the bed, pulled her panties off completely but left her stockings and heels on. He spread her legs with both hands, settled between them, and placed the tip of his cock at the entrance of her cunt. He rubbed it, slid it up and down along her soaked lips, touching her clit with the glans. Camila moaned, moving her hips to find him.

—Put it in, please… put it in…

—Ask nicely —he whispered, smiling.

—Put it in, Eduardo, fuck me, please, I’m asking you…

He pushed in slowly, centimeter by centimeter, looking into her eyes. Camila let out a long, broken moan. The cock opened her, stretched her, filled her completely, touched places nobody had touched before. She felt it settle inside her, all the way in, until his balls hit her ass. He stayed still for a moment, letting her feel everything.

—You like how I fill you, baby?

—Yes… ah, yes… so much… nobody had ever filled me like this…

Eduardo started moving. A slow, sure, deep rhythm, pulling almost all the way out and sinking back in to the hilt. Each time he entered, his belly slapped softly against her flat stomach and his pubic mound brushed her clit. Camila clung to him, dug her nails into his broad back, bit his shoulder. He kissed her neck, her mouth, her tits, without stopping.

—Look how it goes in —he whispered, and she looked down: she saw the thick cock coming out shining with her wetness, going in again until it disappeared whole inside her cunt. She moaned again.

Eduardo sped up a little. He grabbed one of her legs and put it over his shoulder, folding her in half to go deeper. That angle made her scream. His cock touched a new place, deeper inside, and every thrust tore another louder moan from her.

—Oh God, oh God, like that… like that…

—Shut up, baby, or the whole hotel will hear you —he said with a smile, and put two fingers in her mouth. Camila sucked them as if they were another cock.

He turned her over. He put her on all fours at the edge of the bed, ass raised and face against the pillow. Eduardo stood behind her, grabbed his cock, and shoved it in again in one stroke. The slap of his belly against her ass became louder. He grabbed her hips and started fucking her harder, with long, rhythmic thrusts, his fingerprints marking her skin at the hip. Camila gripped the sheets with her fists, her tits shaking beneath her, moaning into the pillow.

—What a perfect ass you’ve got —he panted, and gave her a soft smack that left her ass cheek red. He ran his thumb over her asshole and pressed just a little, without entering—. All mine tonight.

—Yes… all yours… fuck me, Eduardo, fuck me hard…

He grabbed her hair with one hand, tugged gently back to arch her, and kept fucking her. With the other hand he found her clit and rubbed it in time with the thrusts. Camila felt the third orgasm coming, deeper, rising from her feet. When she exploded, she clamped down so hard around the cock that Eduardo had to bite his lip to avoid coming then and there. The fucking didn’t stop: he kept thrusting through the whole contraction, stretching the climax out, until she collapsed face down on the bed, trembling.

He turned her over again, put her on her back, and went in once more. Now he wanted to look at her face while he finished. He lay on top of her, feeling her tits crushed against his chest, her legs in stockings wrapping around his waist. He started moving again, deep, watching her.

—I’m going to come inside, baby —he whispered—. Tell me yes.

—Yes… come inside… fill me up…

He sped up. The thrusts became shorter, more urgent. Camila held him with arms and legs, feeling him pulse inside her. Eduardo groaned low, long, and exploded. She felt his cock throb inside her, stream after hot stream filling her, far more semen than she had ever felt before. He kept pushing slowly, squeezing himself out inside her, while kissing her mouth.

Camila came a fourth time, clinging to him, feeling the other man’s load mix with her own slick, overflowing and dripping down her ass onto the sheet.

They stayed embraced, breathing together. Eduardo pulled out slowly and she felt the emptiness, and then the thick thread leaking between her thighs. He ran his fingers through her open cunt, gathered some of the mixed semen, and brought it to her mouth. Camila sucked his fingers without hesitation.

And then the guilt came back, stronger than ever.

Camila thought of Mateo, of Tomás, of the life she was breaking apart. She felt dirty, selfish, smeared with another man’s semen. But at the same time her body was still vibrating, her cunt still throbbing around nothing, her nipples still hard.

—I don’t know what I’m doing… —she whispered—. I have a family… I have a son…

Eduardo hugged her tighter, stroking her hair tenderly, not caring that the sheets were soaked beneath them.

—Shhh… I know, my love. You don’t have to decide anything right now. This only exists if you want it. I’m here for whatever you need. I just… want you to know this isn’t just sex for me.

Camila stayed a little longer in his arms, feeling his heat, his smell mixed with hers, the semen slowly leaking between her thighs and soaking the sheet. She stroked his soft belly with her fingertips and felt how his cock, still asleep between his legs, began swelling again against her hip.

She knew she would come back. The internal battle had just turned into a war.

And she was already on desire’s side.