El profe (partido suspendido)...

I was going to meet my son's soccer coach again. It could already be said that we were lovers. It wasn't something casual or occasional, just to get rid of it. It was something much more serious than that. At least twice a week, we would kill ourselves in some hotel nearby. Always in a different place, like any couple on the sly. In my case, I didn't have a problem, I wasn't at risk of being caught by my husband cheating on me, but as for him, he had told me that his wife was quite toxic, she checked his phone, emails, so he deleted all my messages as soon as he received them. He wouldn't be surprised if she herself were watching him leave the Club or sending someone to follow him, so we always changed the way we met. I would go looking for him on different corners, at different hours, and sometimes we'd meet near a pre-agreed transient shelter. But beyond some inconvenience, all those precautions added an extra thrill to our relationship. It excited me to be hiding out to have sex. This time we would see each other in the room of a hotel he had booked himself. I was already arriving, just two blocks away, when I received devastating news. I had stopped at a traffic light, so I read the message if I hadn't left it for later. His wife had died. It was a Facebook notification from a mutual friend. He had posted the deceased's photo with a black ribbon, her birth and death dates, and a condolences message for all the family, especially his beloved husband, Damián. Those who have followed my stories over time know about Damián. A painter of thick brushstrokes that is the Great love of my life... One more among many... I love Dad Ro's dad, I love Romi's dad, I love my husband, but Damián is special. I met him ten years ago when three painters who were working in an adjacent department to mine, where we lived before moving. And although his colleagues were two spirited and wild stallions, Damian was the trigger for all my orgasms. Without me realizing it, he had taken my cell phone number that day. He got bold enough to call me and we met up to grab something to eat. He's not a type you'd say is attractive; in fact, I had liked his boss, with whom I had been getting together before, and who was the one who encouraged me to do so with his assistants as well. That's how I got to know Damian, since he was one of them, the oldest and ugliest of the three, but who ended up conquering my heart. On that day when he called and we went out, I wanted to check if what I felt with him was potentized by his colleagues or if it was really his own merit, so I told him to go to a hotel this time, just the two of us. And yes, he left me breathless again. That time I felt what I had felt in the gangbang, but more and better. From then on we had an on-again, off-again relationship. Although we don't see each other for a long stretch, both of us know that when we meet up, today, tomorrow, or in ten years, we'll end up screwing like time never passed. A few years ago I found out he was in a relationship. That's probably one of the big taboos in our relationship. Although the attraction between us was mutual and he knew I was falling for him, what really bothered him was that I was married and had a kid, since he only had Ro when we met. He didn't like the idea of cheating much. If I were single, he would probably have proposed moving in with me. But our destinies weren't meant to come together. And now I'm finding out about this. The cars behind started honking because I wasn't advancing despite the green light. So I pulled over and called the acquaintance who had posted the publication. He told me that Damian's wife had died. There hadn't been a sudden change, but rather she had been ill since the end of last year. Cancer. She was on chemo, but it didn't work. I started crying. Imagining what the man she loved must have suffered and not being there to console him, was destroying my heart. I asked that acquaintance where I could find Damian and he gave me his address. I sent a quick audio to Professor explaining that something had happened, that I couldn't come, and I disconnected for the rest of the day. I went to the address they had given me, Damian's house, not where he used to live before in Mataderos, but a new place in Santos Lugares. The house was crowded with friends and family who had come to pay their respects. The door was open, so I entered, circulating among the people coming and going. Someone offered me coffee, but I said no, that I only came to offer my condolences and leave. -Where can I find Damian?- I asked. They pointed out a room with an open door. I peeked in and saw him, sitting on the edge of the bed, his face between his hands, defeated, saddened, surrounded by two or three friends trying to cheer him up. -Damian?- I said entering the room. The friends turned around, looking at me as if I had just come out of a Playboy magazine. Damian's gaze lit up when he saw me. He got up and came over to hug me. -Sorry, I just found out- I said, sobbing next to him. Although she was the woman of my life, the one who shared her days, nights, joys, and sorrows with me, I truly lamented her death. -Can we be left alone for a moment...- I asked his friends. I don't care about introducing myself or knowing who they are. The only thing I want is to be alone with Damian. When they leave, I close the door and returning to him, I kiss him on the mouth. He hugs me and presses me against his body. And then... EPA!... without fear of being wrong, I can say that what I feel against my stomach is an erection. Although He's crying over his recently deceased wife, Damian stopped breathing when he saw me, which doesn't surprise or impress me because I'm getting wet all over. I'm rubbing the package above his pants, confirming that yes, it's Bonner. -We can't be here, someone might come in- he warns, guessing what I want, what we both want. Our last encounters had always been like this, seeing each other, greeting each other and fucking. -Where then?- I ask, assuming that beyond the circumstances of our encounter, our routine wouldn't change. He was about to say something, but just as someone knocks on the door and opens it to tell him his wife's parents have arrived. Damian is almost sixty years old, judging by the photos his wife was quite a bit younger, so he's practically contemporary with her in-laws. While he shares the grief with them, I take a turn around the house. This time I accept the coffee they offer me. The friends who had been accompanying him in the room come over and introduce themselves. I don't recognize any of them as the other two painters who were at that gangbang almost ten years ago. -Mariela, a friend- I introduce myself, shaking hands with each one. -From Elena?- asks one of them, referring to the deceased. -No, from Damian, we've known each other for a long time, we're very good friends- I say and leave them to interpret it as they want. On the second floor, I find a large bathroom, perfumed, with a bathtub, decorated surely with the taste of someone who can no longer use it. Everyone uses the one downstairs, which is more accessible, so this one remains impeccable. I stay there for a moment and then decide. Downstairs, I look for Damian and approaching him as if giving him condolences, I tell him to meet me in five minutes in the upstairs bathroom. Upstairs, I get in again, and while waiting, I take off my underwear and put it in my bag to gain time. At Few minutes later he arrives. Although he's at home, he knocks on the door. I open it, let him in, and then close it with the latch. I hug and kiss him, apologizing for not being by his side, for not finding out how bad things were going for him. I start caressing his groin again, feeling his erection already. My touch quickly recognizes its shape, length, and the curve that forms when he's still pressed under his clothes. I want to console him, give him everything we've been depriving ourselves of during all this time, years, since we last saw each other. I unbutton his pants, put my hand in and caress it gently. The heat, texture, hardness, everything is familiar to me. I take it out, give him a quick, fleeting blowjob, then get down on my knees and suck it. I'd like to stay there for hours, feeling with my tongue every little lump of the veins, but we don't have time. I give him one last kiss at the tip and stand up. I lift my skirt, and without letting go of it, I rub myself against him from top to bottom, sharing my moisture and warmth. Although both of us know that this isn't the ideal context, that there are people outside that bathroom who could come in at any moment, we can't resist. It's not a good idea, I know, even though I think it's morally unjustifiable. How are you going to get with someone else's husband who just died? they might think. But before they stone me, they should know that my thing with Damián is uncontrollable, seeing each other, feeling each other, and our hormones getting all worked up in such a way that we can't do anything. It's instinctive, primal, a natural force that pushes us to collide and explode into a thousand pieces. He grabs me then by the waist, sits me on the surface of the vanity, and... and how he gets it in! The cock of Damián seems to have been carved out of the same mold as my sex, both concave and convex from the same element. I know it's ilusory, but The perfect fit is total, symmetrical, expanding to fill every nook and cranny, leaving no hole to cover. What a pleasure! What a delight! Years go by and I still feel the same way. That fire, that passion, that crackling that drives me wild and crazy. It flows freely within me, pounding me deep inside, striking me with blow after blow, making the jars of cream and lotions shake, threatening to fall to the floor. I try to hold back from screaming, from bursting into shouts. I bite his shoulder, neck, leaving marks on his skin from my love, my passion. -I want you, Damián, I want...!- I whisper in his ear, melting into his body, dizzy with the scent of his skin. I had said it a thousand times before, but now, under these circumstances, I felt it more intensely. -I want to be yours forever!- The penetrations resound within me, relentless, vigorous, impulsive, making me come again and again, coupling with a final sigh that is celestial music for my ears. In my head, I feel like a continuous pounding TOC TOC TOC... But no, it's not in my head, someone is knocking at the door. We look at each other and decide to keep going until the end. -Go on... Go on... Don't stop...!- I say, risking being caught with the newlywed husband. Damián keeps going, determined not to stop despite the caller's insistence. TOC TOC TOC... TOC TOC TOC -Yes... Siiiiiii... Siiiiiiiiiiii...!- I don't scream, just exhale a sigh when I feel the thrust and then the warm flood. I'm done with him, merging my essence with his. My body fills with heat, a violent and abundant wave. I'll take the morning-after pill later, all I want in that moment is to fully enjoy the sensations exploding throughout my interior. He pulls out, quickly wipes himself clean with toilet paper, and puts his pants back on. With the same haste, I get off the vanity, wipe myself clean, and put my clothes back on. With paper, forming a little pile to collect what comes out of me and throw it away in the toilet. I take out my tampon from my purse and put it next to an intimate towel to avoid spills. We get dressed and open the door. It's one of his friends, so we tell him we're leaving for the funeral home where the burial will be held. The bathroom smells like sex, which doesn't go unnoticed by who came looking for it. I hug Damian, pet his back, and give him a kiss. He leaves, but before crossing the door he stops, turns around, and comes back with me. -Will you accompany me?-, he asks. -Yes, of course...-, I respond without hesitation. If there hadn't been the friend and someone else who entered later, I would have told him that the only thing I wanted was to be by his side. He introduces me as a friend of his and his wife's, so I accompany him even to the cemetery. After the burial, when we're all leaving, each one to their vehicle, the friend approaches me and says: -Can I ask you something?- I tell him yes. -In the bathroom, before I arrived... were they... doing what I imagine?-. I don't confirm or deny it. -I told you that Damian and I are very good friends-, I remind him with a wide and seductive smile. He freezes. I'm not sure if he doesn't imagine someone like me being in love with Damian, or because we did it on the same day his wife passed away, although it was already known that the end could come at any moment. Only when I get home do I turn on my cell phone. Apart from the usual messages, I have several from Professor wanting to know what happened to me. He's worried because my husband might have discovered our relationship. Don't worry, nothing's wrong, I promise to compensate you..., I respond and go to sleep, happy and grateful for having been with the love of my life...