An unexpected impulse leads me to press the notebook keys with my small hands. The words appear impressively quickly, as if I didn't have to think for a second about what I would put next. I'm a person with strong determination, yes. But even so, I'm amazed by my own literary facet. It was Dr. Ezeiza Pol, my therapist, who recommended that I express my memories in writing, although now I don't feel like I do it for his advice, but rather because of a cathartic need that appeared almost out of nowhere. I think we both know that everything reduces to my distance from Dad, my imperative need for a constant paternal image, and the trauma left by him separating from Mom when I was very young.
We're broken since birth. I had heard that phrase in an animated series, which I stopped watching because it seemed very depressing. But until now, I couldn't refute it. It seemed to be conditioned since I gained reason, as if everything I did was destined to be this way and no other. Even in my acts of rebellion, I ended up concluding that the same rebellion had been drawn for me.
I'm rambling, I know. When I decided to write, I wondered where to start. Which part of my life. Immediately I realized I didn't want to start with my solitary childhood. Not solitary because I lacked friends, nor because I was discriminated against. Solitary due to Dad's abandonment, solitary due to Aunt Guillermina's death, solitary because I had to take care of Mom, even more than she took care of me, solitary because I didn't know where I stood, solitary because I was an only child...
Nor do I want to start with my adolescence. That period was marked by insecurity and low self-esteem. It turns out I'm very small, and very white, and that made me feel like a bland girl. alongside my friends to whom I was already growing an impressive bust. Let's say I took a bit more time to develop. So I'm only going to go back ten years in the past. That's when I started becoming the woman I am today, with all the good and bad that comes with it.
By then, not much time had passed since I was living in an apartment in Palermo. The building was bought by my father, who usually shows affection by using money. I was dating Mariano, a handsome and sweet redhead. He was 25 years old, let his hair grow into a sexy beard, and had a smile that was both comic and infantile. Since we'd been dating for two years, if I remember correctly, he spent a lot of time at my place, to the point where it was practically like we were living together.
I didn't have many complaints about poor Mariano. He had a weak character that I compensated with mine. He was one of those people who couldn't stand silence, so I'd get irritated when he wouldn't stop talking. Although, despite that, he generally had good conversation. In bed, we got along at first. Like all 20-year-olds, we couldn't go a day without hooking up. But that started to fade off. Or rather, it faded off in him, because I was still as hot as ever. Gradually, he stopped searching for my body with the regularity I wanted, which filled me with fears and uncertainty.
His lack of enthusiasm made me suspicious. Every time I could, I'd check his phone, but I didn't find anything incriminating, which left me even more agitated than I already was, since if he wasn't sleeping with anyone else, why wouldn't he want to do it with me?
By then, I had learned how to get the most out of my body. It turned out I was much more voluptuous than I would have imagined as a teenager. My white skin no longer had that exacerbated paleness of before. And especially, I knew how to wear clothes that accentuated... My virtues and flaws would be hidden. But anyway, thanks to Mariano's indifference, the insecure creature that lived inside me was coming out again to the surface.
— You're really pissing someone off! — I said one night after sitting on his lap almost naked, wearing only a thong, but failing to have the expected effect on him.
Mariano swore he didn't. Then he accused me of being crazy. Then he begged me to calm down. Finally, I kicked him out of the apartment.
It wasn't the first time I'd thrown him out in the middle of the night. I knew he could take refuge with his old folks or some friends who weren't few. But still, at some point, I would start feeling sorry for him and tell him to come back. That's what happened most of the time. The minority of times, I'd leave him alone and refuse to answer his messages. This night was one of those.
I was convinced he was cheating on me with one of his coworkers or classmates from school. He wasn't a guy who could go unnoticed. Handsome, elegant, nice. Although these characteristics might seem very common, it's hard to find them all in one person.
When I got these thoughts in my head, no one could get them out. Even today, I don't know if he was really cheating or not. I tend to believe he wasn't. But then the doubt remains unanswered: Why didn't he want me?
I took a bath, put on makeup, wore a black pantsuit that fit my body so tightly it almost felt like being naked. A white top and a black mini skirt on top of that. My hair loose. Huge platform boots. I looked at myself in the mirror. I was very pretty. Paula would say I was a slut.
When I went downstairs, Miguel, the security guy, jumped out of his seat, opened the door for me, and without hiding it much, checked out my ass.
I found Miguel's behavior amusing. He said he was in love with me. I'd known him for less than half a year. year. We had only conversed a few times, but he swore he was in love with me. One time, when I was fighting with Mariano, he found an excuse to follow me to my apartment. A package had arrived that I had bought online. When he saw how heavy it was for me, he offered to help. I said okay. In the elevator there was a silence that exposed the enormous sexual tension between us. When we got to my apartment, I let him in so he could put the box on a table. Then he wanted to kiss me.
I have a boyfriend, I said, when I turned away. But the fool tried again. I gave him a slap and told him to leave.
After that, I punished him with cold indifference. For someone supposedly in love like him, this was terrible. He apologized a thousand times, and little by little, he won back my sympathy. But it was clear he still wanted to screw me.
I got into my car (which my dad also bought for me) and went to a bar that was an hour from my house. My friends always freaked out when I told them I was going to have a drink alone, but really, it wasn't that bad. I'm a solitary person and I enjoy my solitude. I ordered a beer at the bar. Two minutes later, two half-drunk guys were trying to pick me up.
What a shame they came together, I said with irony - If only one of them had come, I would have won him over. But I don't do threesomes.
The bartender laughed. He was a man in his early thirties, with a square jaw, blue eyes, and strong arms. It was enough that he caught my eye to decide to take the place of the previous guys and show off his seduction skills. He asked me what my name was.
Alexia.
Lovely name, he said - I know it's always said. But in your case, it's true. Plus, it's a very original name. I don't know anyone else named Alexia.
Know nobody like me —I replied, making myself interesting.
We talked for a bit. He offered me another beer. I joked that it seemed he wanted to get me drunk so I'd go to bed with him. I went to the bathroom. I told him I was coming back. As expected, he had followed me down the dark hallway. He grabbed my arm, pushed me against the wall. He whispered in my ear that I was very good. He kissed me. He didn't get away from it. He had beer and mint breath. His rough hands were obviously behind me. More than caressing, they squeezed my ass. His fingers seemed hungry, rubbing deep.
— Come —he said, ready to relieve himself in a dirty bathroom.
— No —I said—. I have a boyfriend.
And I left that place running away. I couldn't see him because I was already turning around, but I imagined he had stayed there stunned, with his mouth open, and his cock hard.
I got into the car and went back home, feeling frustrated. Miguel made conversation when I arrived. He wanted to know why I'd come so soon. I told him I didn't want to talk about it. As soon as I entered my apartment, the intercom rang.
— I wanted to ask you if you could do me a favor —Miguel said. He seemed nervous, so I decided to make him even more nervous.
— What time is this? —I asked, scandalized since it was midnight—. What do you want? —I added afterwards, gruffly.
— It's that... em... —he said, unable to finish the sentence—. It's that I brought some food. But... em... our microwave doesn't work, and I just realized it now. And most of the neighbors are sleeping, so I can't bother them. Can you...?
— Get out —I said, and hung up.
In a matter of seconds, I heard two knocks at the door. Miguel was a 26-year-old guy (a couple of years older than me), fairly common and ordinary. Brown skin, short hair, military-style haircut, dark brown. Square-framed glasses. Not thin or fat. He... more than a head taller, like most men. The blue uniform, which was trying to be similar to the police one, gave him a certain charm, but that's it.
Really I should have made him wait in the hallway while I warmed up the food, but I didn't want some nosy neighbor to see us and invent things about me, so I let him come with me. He followed me like a puppy to the kitchen. My cell phone rang. It was a message from Mariano. I ignored it.
I opened the microwave. It was on a shelf that was too high for someone like me, so I always had to stand on tiptoes to reach it. I programmed it to work for three minutes. Then I feel Miguel's hand touching me.
What are you doing? I ask him, but I stay where I am, giving him my back. My tone wasn't as scandalized as it should be either.
You have a beautiful ass, he says, and keeps fondling me. His hypothetical infatuation had been replaced by primitive excitement. I had imagined he was going to try to kiss me again, but that took me by surprise.
I have a boyfriend, I remind him, and move away from him. I lean against the counter so he can't get access to my ass. But he comes closer. He makes me feel his semi-erection on my hips. He caresses my cheek with tenderness. I look away.
But I see your boyfriend doesn't take care of you, he says. He grabs my chin. He turns my face. Our eyes meet. He tries to kiss me. I dodge it.
That's my problem, I answer him.
He wraps his hands around my waist. His are big and rough. They rub against me. They rise, reaching my breasts. Since I don't say anything, he takes it as consent. He massages them.
You're perfect, he says. You're perfect no matter where you look. I love your little girl face - he adds, still massaging my breasts.
—All the men I've been with like my Baby faceSomething they should treat in therapy, no doubt.
— Well, your food is ready —I say when the microwave makes a beep that I always hated but appreciated at that moment.
But he pretends not to hear me. I get distracted, and he takes advantage of it, finally kissing my mouth. His tongue licks my lips as he tries to penetrate them. I give in. I open my mouth. He massages my tongue. He attracts me to him, and again has his hands on my longed-for ass.
This is more than enough for him to convince himself that I'm going to let him have me.
— No. Mariano could come at any moment —I say, running away again. But he takes advantage of it to now suck my neck—. Don't leave marks —I ask.
It feels tasty the tingling and massage of his tongue. His hands seem skilled, but are rough with my butt. His fingers rub against the seam of my leggings. He puts one hand on my shoulder and pushes me down with a lot of force.
— No. Stop. We can't. You're working. And I have a boyfriend —I say. But he makes deaf ears. He pushes harder.
I see myself forced to squat down. He unzips his pants and releases his cock. It's a beautiful cock. Thick and totally firm. He brings it to my mouth. I feign one last resistance, although at that moment I was already defeated. He grabs my head and pushes his sex towards me. This time he doesn't find any resistance. If he wants me to suck it so badly, I'll suck it, I think. Besides, I was also tempted by that beautiful instrument. Cocks themselves seem beautiful to me. Until then I hadn't known many. Mariano had been my third man. Before him, I only had a teenage boyfriend and a neighbor who had deflowered me. In the next two months I would sleep with more guys and multiply that number, but I'm getting ahead of myself.
I listen to him panting while I suck it without pause. I listen to him congratulating me on how well... I make it. I hear him telling me I'm a beautiful slut, over and over again. Then I'd discover that most men like saying that to us. Now that resentment is novel, and I find it as degrading as morbid. It was true. At the time, I was behaving like a slut. As punishment, I stop sucking him off. It's time for him to please me. For him to put out the fire Mariano refuses to smother.
I take his hand to the bedroom. We help each other undress. The clothes are scattered on the floor, mixed with mine and his. I get down on all fours on the bed. Miguel congratulates me on my beautiful ass. He gives me a kiss, and puts his tongue in the most hidden part of my intimacy. He tickles me, but also feels relaxing the massage I receive.
Have you got condoms? I ask him. I don't want to use the ones at home. Mariano isn't very observant. I doubted he'd notice the absence of one of them. But I didn't want to take risks.
Of course, he says. He searches his pants pocket on the floor and pulls out a package.
Were you really sure you were going to screw me? I ask him, surprised, since I had just decided to let him have me a few minutes before.
Not at all. But it's always better to be prepared, he says. He gives me a slap on the ass. He puts on the condom. I get screwed, remembering how slutty I am. I tell him not to make so much noise, because the neighbors could hear us, and I didn't want my boyfriend to find out about it. He grabs my hips. It feels great his cock penetrating me slowly. I'm the one who ends up breaking the rule of not making a sound. My moans come out uncontrollably from my throat. Miguel shakes me and fucks me with vehemence.
It's over. We're agitated on the bed. He hugs me. He grabs my chin and makes me look at him.
You're incredible, he promises. After this, I've never been more in love than ever.
You're not in love. You don't even know me. You're just hot, I say to him. I'm aware that there's something in me that generates tenderness in men at the same levels as lust. That confuses them. The naive and immature like Miguel let themselves be carried away by their emotions. I'm not one of those who only see someone as an object of desire. I am the object of desire, yes, and also that woman who would like to introduce her to my family. A good girl, who when she's not wearing suggestive clothing seems very modest.
He gives me a tender kiss on the lips. He caresses my cheek. He has a look of being in love, which is true, but I don't see it as romantic, rather it scares me. He caresses my body until his member becomes hard again. Finally, I grab a condom from the nightstand. The determination that I'm so proud of loses strength in bed.
won't you have problems for being absent from your job for such a long time? I ask him while he puts on the condom.
No problem, he says. At this hour everyone is sleeping. Only some guys come out, but they don't bother.
He gets on top of me again. He makes me come again. His tenderness is disappearing little by little, while my moans are getting louder. I bite the pillow. He gives me spanks. The phone rings. I suppose it's Mariano, but at that moment I only want Miguel's cock inside me. Anyway, I doubted whether he would show up in the apartment without my permission. And in any case, the impending danger was making me very hot.
I never would have imagined that that insipid security employee would make me reach climax, but it was like that. I finish and while doing so, I realize why things with Mariano are so bad. How long has it been since I've made him run? Miguel sticks his cock in my mouth. I open it, suck it. I know he's about to come. I think it's fair, that he deserves that prize for his good performance. I let him cum in my mouth, but no way am I swallowing the semen. I leave him looking at me with his mouth open, showing me his cum. From the corner of... His lips escape a fine stream. I'm going to the bathroom. I spit in the toilet and pull the chain. I wash my mouth and go back to the room.
Miguel hugs me. I feel small beside him. I ask where he left the condom. I wrap it in paper and throw it away too, into the toilet. I don't want to leave any evidence that incriminates me.
When I get back to the room, Miguel is getting dressed.
'I had an incredible time,' he says. 'You were like a goddess.'
I think about telling him this was just a one-night thing, a slip-up. But I don't say it. Anyway, he should already know.
'See you soon,' he says, giving me a kiss on the belly button.
'Of course,' I reply.
Still naked, I accompany him to the door. I take a shower. I spray air freshener in the room. Tomorrow I'll change the sheets. I read Mariano's messages. He's sleeping at Fede's place. He tells me he loves me, that he desires me, that he simply doesn't have the same sexual energies as I do, but he swears he'll be up to it. I leave it at that.
I think it's going to be very uncomfortable seeing Miguel again. He'll probably want to screw me again. I decide to go back to my boyfriend.
Mariano behaves well. It pleases me. I fuck him. He makes me cum. But the weeks pass, and it seems he's forgotten his promise. We're living in a vicious circle of absurdity. First, he lets a day go by without screwing me. Nothing abnormal, although for someone like me, it's alarming. Then the time between sex and sex gets longer and longer. When five days have passed without him giving it to me, without saying anything, I show my displeasure. Any old excuse is perfect for making a scene. Miguel watches us come and go from the building at night when Mariano comes home from work. It gives me the feeling that he's a crow who senses there's a corpse nearby, waiting to be fed. My relationship with Mariano is moribund, and he knows it.
One day I arrive alone. Around eight o'clock. I'm not angry with Mariano, but I'm very annoyed. He told me he was going out to have a few beers with his friends and would be back in about two hours. And then he has the nerve to go around with his buddies. I'm indignant. Miguel asks me what's wrong: I tell him nothing, that I don't want to talk. He follows me into the elevator. He gets in with me.
What are you doing? I ask.
I don't know how much I miss you, he says.
I realize it was a mistake to sleep with him. He really believes the lies he tells himself. How could he miss me if we barely speak? He lunges at me. I have my hands occupied carrying the shopping bags from the Chinese place around the corner, and my fragile 45-kilogram body makes me an easy target for someone like him.
I put myself in a corner. He tries to kiss me. I can dodge it by looking down.
My boyfriend is about to arrive, I lie.
I don't believe you, he says.
His hands slide under the skirt. He's caressing my buttocks with desperation. The elevator reaches my floor. I feel relieved. Finally, the ordeal is over. But he follows me to the door.
Stop! I say. And although it sounds ridiculous, I don't want to raise my voice and make a scene, which he would take advantage of.
I put the key in the crack. When I open the door, he gets into my apartment with me. He grabs my wrist. The bags fall on the floor.
What are you doing? I ask again, even though I know exactly what he's doing.
He drags me to the room he knows. I don't have the strength to confront him, and I don't want to scream and have the neighbors hear what's happening. It sounds stupid, I know. But at that moment (and in many others to come) my mind works like this.
He pushes me towards the bed with violence. I fall onto it face down. He lifts up my skirt and takes off my panties with a quick movement. It's a professional, I think about that instant. He anally rapes me in that position, and the worst of it all is that I enjoy it.
He gives me a slap on the buttocks. He buries his finger in my rear end. It's the first time someone has done this to me. Mariano has it forbidden, but Miguel doesn't ask permission. I discover I don't feel bad at all. Probably that would be the trigger that would turn me into an anal sex lover in a not too distant future.
I can't help but let out moans when his finger is fully buried. He gives me slaps on the buttocks. He tells me I'm a beautiful slut. I'm quiet, no longer complaining. Let him do what he wants, I think. Afterward, he cums in that same position.
— Go away. Mariano will arrive at any moment —I say when it's over, with semen sliding down my thigh—. Please go away —I beg, almost crying.
— There's no need to lie. According to him, he went out with some friends today and won't be coming until late.
— Do you talk to him?
— Yes. I get along well with him. He's a good guy.
— You get along well... And do you screw his girlfriend?
— That's life.
He wipes off the cock and goes back to his position. I'm convinced it won't be the last time I'll have to deal with him.
Fin
We're broken since birth. I had heard that phrase in an animated series, which I stopped watching because it seemed very depressing. But until now, I couldn't refute it. It seemed to be conditioned since I gained reason, as if everything I did was destined to be this way and no other. Even in my acts of rebellion, I ended up concluding that the same rebellion had been drawn for me.
I'm rambling, I know. When I decided to write, I wondered where to start. Which part of my life. Immediately I realized I didn't want to start with my solitary childhood. Not solitary because I lacked friends, nor because I was discriminated against. Solitary due to Dad's abandonment, solitary due to Aunt Guillermina's death, solitary because I had to take care of Mom, even more than she took care of me, solitary because I didn't know where I stood, solitary because I was an only child...
Nor do I want to start with my adolescence. That period was marked by insecurity and low self-esteem. It turns out I'm very small, and very white, and that made me feel like a bland girl. alongside my friends to whom I was already growing an impressive bust. Let's say I took a bit more time to develop. So I'm only going to go back ten years in the past. That's when I started becoming the woman I am today, with all the good and bad that comes with it.
By then, not much time had passed since I was living in an apartment in Palermo. The building was bought by my father, who usually shows affection by using money. I was dating Mariano, a handsome and sweet redhead. He was 25 years old, let his hair grow into a sexy beard, and had a smile that was both comic and infantile. Since we'd been dating for two years, if I remember correctly, he spent a lot of time at my place, to the point where it was practically like we were living together.
I didn't have many complaints about poor Mariano. He had a weak character that I compensated with mine. He was one of those people who couldn't stand silence, so I'd get irritated when he wouldn't stop talking. Although, despite that, he generally had good conversation. In bed, we got along at first. Like all 20-year-olds, we couldn't go a day without hooking up. But that started to fade off. Or rather, it faded off in him, because I was still as hot as ever. Gradually, he stopped searching for my body with the regularity I wanted, which filled me with fears and uncertainty.
His lack of enthusiasm made me suspicious. Every time I could, I'd check his phone, but I didn't find anything incriminating, which left me even more agitated than I already was, since if he wasn't sleeping with anyone else, why wouldn't he want to do it with me?
By then, I had learned how to get the most out of my body. It turned out I was much more voluptuous than I would have imagined as a teenager. My white skin no longer had that exacerbated paleness of before. And especially, I knew how to wear clothes that accentuated... My virtues and flaws would be hidden. But anyway, thanks to Mariano's indifference, the insecure creature that lived inside me was coming out again to the surface.
— You're really pissing someone off! — I said one night after sitting on his lap almost naked, wearing only a thong, but failing to have the expected effect on him.
Mariano swore he didn't. Then he accused me of being crazy. Then he begged me to calm down. Finally, I kicked him out of the apartment.
It wasn't the first time I'd thrown him out in the middle of the night. I knew he could take refuge with his old folks or some friends who weren't few. But still, at some point, I would start feeling sorry for him and tell him to come back. That's what happened most of the time. The minority of times, I'd leave him alone and refuse to answer his messages. This night was one of those.
I was convinced he was cheating on me with one of his coworkers or classmates from school. He wasn't a guy who could go unnoticed. Handsome, elegant, nice. Although these characteristics might seem very common, it's hard to find them all in one person.
When I got these thoughts in my head, no one could get them out. Even today, I don't know if he was really cheating or not. I tend to believe he wasn't. But then the doubt remains unanswered: Why didn't he want me?
I took a bath, put on makeup, wore a black pantsuit that fit my body so tightly it almost felt like being naked. A white top and a black mini skirt on top of that. My hair loose. Huge platform boots. I looked at myself in the mirror. I was very pretty. Paula would say I was a slut.
When I went downstairs, Miguel, the security guy, jumped out of his seat, opened the door for me, and without hiding it much, checked out my ass.
I found Miguel's behavior amusing. He said he was in love with me. I'd known him for less than half a year. year. We had only conversed a few times, but he swore he was in love with me. One time, when I was fighting with Mariano, he found an excuse to follow me to my apartment. A package had arrived that I had bought online. When he saw how heavy it was for me, he offered to help. I said okay. In the elevator there was a silence that exposed the enormous sexual tension between us. When we got to my apartment, I let him in so he could put the box on a table. Then he wanted to kiss me.
I have a boyfriend, I said, when I turned away. But the fool tried again. I gave him a slap and told him to leave.
After that, I punished him with cold indifference. For someone supposedly in love like him, this was terrible. He apologized a thousand times, and little by little, he won back my sympathy. But it was clear he still wanted to screw me.
I got into my car (which my dad also bought for me) and went to a bar that was an hour from my house. My friends always freaked out when I told them I was going to have a drink alone, but really, it wasn't that bad. I'm a solitary person and I enjoy my solitude. I ordered a beer at the bar. Two minutes later, two half-drunk guys were trying to pick me up.
What a shame they came together, I said with irony - If only one of them had come, I would have won him over. But I don't do threesomes.
The bartender laughed. He was a man in his early thirties, with a square jaw, blue eyes, and strong arms. It was enough that he caught my eye to decide to take the place of the previous guys and show off his seduction skills. He asked me what my name was.
Alexia.
Lovely name, he said - I know it's always said. But in your case, it's true. Plus, it's a very original name. I don't know anyone else named Alexia.
Know nobody like me —I replied, making myself interesting.
We talked for a bit. He offered me another beer. I joked that it seemed he wanted to get me drunk so I'd go to bed with him. I went to the bathroom. I told him I was coming back. As expected, he had followed me down the dark hallway. He grabbed my arm, pushed me against the wall. He whispered in my ear that I was very good. He kissed me. He didn't get away from it. He had beer and mint breath. His rough hands were obviously behind me. More than caressing, they squeezed my ass. His fingers seemed hungry, rubbing deep.
— Come —he said, ready to relieve himself in a dirty bathroom.
— No —I said—. I have a boyfriend.
And I left that place running away. I couldn't see him because I was already turning around, but I imagined he had stayed there stunned, with his mouth open, and his cock hard.
I got into the car and went back home, feeling frustrated. Miguel made conversation when I arrived. He wanted to know why I'd come so soon. I told him I didn't want to talk about it. As soon as I entered my apartment, the intercom rang.
— I wanted to ask you if you could do me a favor —Miguel said. He seemed nervous, so I decided to make him even more nervous.
— What time is this? —I asked, scandalized since it was midnight—. What do you want? —I added afterwards, gruffly.
— It's that... em... —he said, unable to finish the sentence—. It's that I brought some food. But... em... our microwave doesn't work, and I just realized it now. And most of the neighbors are sleeping, so I can't bother them. Can you...?
— Get out —I said, and hung up.
In a matter of seconds, I heard two knocks at the door. Miguel was a 26-year-old guy (a couple of years older than me), fairly common and ordinary. Brown skin, short hair, military-style haircut, dark brown. Square-framed glasses. Not thin or fat. He... more than a head taller, like most men. The blue uniform, which was trying to be similar to the police one, gave him a certain charm, but that's it.
Really I should have made him wait in the hallway while I warmed up the food, but I didn't want some nosy neighbor to see us and invent things about me, so I let him come with me. He followed me like a puppy to the kitchen. My cell phone rang. It was a message from Mariano. I ignored it.
I opened the microwave. It was on a shelf that was too high for someone like me, so I always had to stand on tiptoes to reach it. I programmed it to work for three minutes. Then I feel Miguel's hand touching me.
What are you doing? I ask him, but I stay where I am, giving him my back. My tone wasn't as scandalized as it should be either.
You have a beautiful ass, he says, and keeps fondling me. His hypothetical infatuation had been replaced by primitive excitement. I had imagined he was going to try to kiss me again, but that took me by surprise.
I have a boyfriend, I remind him, and move away from him. I lean against the counter so he can't get access to my ass. But he comes closer. He makes me feel his semi-erection on my hips. He caresses my cheek with tenderness. I look away.
But I see your boyfriend doesn't take care of you, he says. He grabs my chin. He turns my face. Our eyes meet. He tries to kiss me. I dodge it.
That's my problem, I answer him.
He wraps his hands around my waist. His are big and rough. They rub against me. They rise, reaching my breasts. Since I don't say anything, he takes it as consent. He massages them.
You're perfect, he says. You're perfect no matter where you look. I love your little girl face - he adds, still massaging my breasts.
—All the men I've been with like my Baby faceSomething they should treat in therapy, no doubt.
— Well, your food is ready —I say when the microwave makes a beep that I always hated but appreciated at that moment.
But he pretends not to hear me. I get distracted, and he takes advantage of it, finally kissing my mouth. His tongue licks my lips as he tries to penetrate them. I give in. I open my mouth. He massages my tongue. He attracts me to him, and again has his hands on my longed-for ass.
This is more than enough for him to convince himself that I'm going to let him have me.
— No. Mariano could come at any moment —I say, running away again. But he takes advantage of it to now suck my neck—. Don't leave marks —I ask.
It feels tasty the tingling and massage of his tongue. His hands seem skilled, but are rough with my butt. His fingers rub against the seam of my leggings. He puts one hand on my shoulder and pushes me down with a lot of force.
— No. Stop. We can't. You're working. And I have a boyfriend —I say. But he makes deaf ears. He pushes harder.
I see myself forced to squat down. He unzips his pants and releases his cock. It's a beautiful cock. Thick and totally firm. He brings it to my mouth. I feign one last resistance, although at that moment I was already defeated. He grabs my head and pushes his sex towards me. This time he doesn't find any resistance. If he wants me to suck it so badly, I'll suck it, I think. Besides, I was also tempted by that beautiful instrument. Cocks themselves seem beautiful to me. Until then I hadn't known many. Mariano had been my third man. Before him, I only had a teenage boyfriend and a neighbor who had deflowered me. In the next two months I would sleep with more guys and multiply that number, but I'm getting ahead of myself.
I listen to him panting while I suck it without pause. I listen to him congratulating me on how well... I make it. I hear him telling me I'm a beautiful slut, over and over again. Then I'd discover that most men like saying that to us. Now that resentment is novel, and I find it as degrading as morbid. It was true. At the time, I was behaving like a slut. As punishment, I stop sucking him off. It's time for him to please me. For him to put out the fire Mariano refuses to smother.
I take his hand to the bedroom. We help each other undress. The clothes are scattered on the floor, mixed with mine and his. I get down on all fours on the bed. Miguel congratulates me on my beautiful ass. He gives me a kiss, and puts his tongue in the most hidden part of my intimacy. He tickles me, but also feels relaxing the massage I receive.
Have you got condoms? I ask him. I don't want to use the ones at home. Mariano isn't very observant. I doubted he'd notice the absence of one of them. But I didn't want to take risks.
Of course, he says. He searches his pants pocket on the floor and pulls out a package.
Were you really sure you were going to screw me? I ask him, surprised, since I had just decided to let him have me a few minutes before.
Not at all. But it's always better to be prepared, he says. He gives me a slap on the ass. He puts on the condom. I get screwed, remembering how slutty I am. I tell him not to make so much noise, because the neighbors could hear us, and I didn't want my boyfriend to find out about it. He grabs my hips. It feels great his cock penetrating me slowly. I'm the one who ends up breaking the rule of not making a sound. My moans come out uncontrollably from my throat. Miguel shakes me and fucks me with vehemence.
It's over. We're agitated on the bed. He hugs me. He grabs my chin and makes me look at him.
You're incredible, he promises. After this, I've never been more in love than ever.
You're not in love. You don't even know me. You're just hot, I say to him. I'm aware that there's something in me that generates tenderness in men at the same levels as lust. That confuses them. The naive and immature like Miguel let themselves be carried away by their emotions. I'm not one of those who only see someone as an object of desire. I am the object of desire, yes, and also that woman who would like to introduce her to my family. A good girl, who when she's not wearing suggestive clothing seems very modest.
He gives me a tender kiss on the lips. He caresses my cheek. He has a look of being in love, which is true, but I don't see it as romantic, rather it scares me. He caresses my body until his member becomes hard again. Finally, I grab a condom from the nightstand. The determination that I'm so proud of loses strength in bed.
won't you have problems for being absent from your job for such a long time? I ask him while he puts on the condom.
No problem, he says. At this hour everyone is sleeping. Only some guys come out, but they don't bother.
He gets on top of me again. He makes me come again. His tenderness is disappearing little by little, while my moans are getting louder. I bite the pillow. He gives me spanks. The phone rings. I suppose it's Mariano, but at that moment I only want Miguel's cock inside me. Anyway, I doubted whether he would show up in the apartment without my permission. And in any case, the impending danger was making me very hot.
I never would have imagined that that insipid security employee would make me reach climax, but it was like that. I finish and while doing so, I realize why things with Mariano are so bad. How long has it been since I've made him run? Miguel sticks his cock in my mouth. I open it, suck it. I know he's about to come. I think it's fair, that he deserves that prize for his good performance. I let him cum in my mouth, but no way am I swallowing the semen. I leave him looking at me with his mouth open, showing me his cum. From the corner of... His lips escape a fine stream. I'm going to the bathroom. I spit in the toilet and pull the chain. I wash my mouth and go back to the room.
Miguel hugs me. I feel small beside him. I ask where he left the condom. I wrap it in paper and throw it away too, into the toilet. I don't want to leave any evidence that incriminates me.
When I get back to the room, Miguel is getting dressed.
'I had an incredible time,' he says. 'You were like a goddess.'
I think about telling him this was just a one-night thing, a slip-up. But I don't say it. Anyway, he should already know.
'See you soon,' he says, giving me a kiss on the belly button.
'Of course,' I reply.
Still naked, I accompany him to the door. I take a shower. I spray air freshener in the room. Tomorrow I'll change the sheets. I read Mariano's messages. He's sleeping at Fede's place. He tells me he loves me, that he desires me, that he simply doesn't have the same sexual energies as I do, but he swears he'll be up to it. I leave it at that.
I think it's going to be very uncomfortable seeing Miguel again. He'll probably want to screw me again. I decide to go back to my boyfriend.
Mariano behaves well. It pleases me. I fuck him. He makes me cum. But the weeks pass, and it seems he's forgotten his promise. We're living in a vicious circle of absurdity. First, he lets a day go by without screwing me. Nothing abnormal, although for someone like me, it's alarming. Then the time between sex and sex gets longer and longer. When five days have passed without him giving it to me, without saying anything, I show my displeasure. Any old excuse is perfect for making a scene. Miguel watches us come and go from the building at night when Mariano comes home from work. It gives me the feeling that he's a crow who senses there's a corpse nearby, waiting to be fed. My relationship with Mariano is moribund, and he knows it.
One day I arrive alone. Around eight o'clock. I'm not angry with Mariano, but I'm very annoyed. He told me he was going out to have a few beers with his friends and would be back in about two hours. And then he has the nerve to go around with his buddies. I'm indignant. Miguel asks me what's wrong: I tell him nothing, that I don't want to talk. He follows me into the elevator. He gets in with me.
What are you doing? I ask.
I don't know how much I miss you, he says.
I realize it was a mistake to sleep with him. He really believes the lies he tells himself. How could he miss me if we barely speak? He lunges at me. I have my hands occupied carrying the shopping bags from the Chinese place around the corner, and my fragile 45-kilogram body makes me an easy target for someone like him.
I put myself in a corner. He tries to kiss me. I can dodge it by looking down.
My boyfriend is about to arrive, I lie.
I don't believe you, he says.
His hands slide under the skirt. He's caressing my buttocks with desperation. The elevator reaches my floor. I feel relieved. Finally, the ordeal is over. But he follows me to the door.
Stop! I say. And although it sounds ridiculous, I don't want to raise my voice and make a scene, which he would take advantage of.
I put the key in the crack. When I open the door, he gets into my apartment with me. He grabs my wrist. The bags fall on the floor.
What are you doing? I ask again, even though I know exactly what he's doing.
He drags me to the room he knows. I don't have the strength to confront him, and I don't want to scream and have the neighbors hear what's happening. It sounds stupid, I know. But at that moment (and in many others to come) my mind works like this.
He pushes me towards the bed with violence. I fall onto it face down. He lifts up my skirt and takes off my panties with a quick movement. It's a professional, I think about that instant. He anally rapes me in that position, and the worst of it all is that I enjoy it.
He gives me a slap on the buttocks. He buries his finger in my rear end. It's the first time someone has done this to me. Mariano has it forbidden, but Miguel doesn't ask permission. I discover I don't feel bad at all. Probably that would be the trigger that would turn me into an anal sex lover in a not too distant future.
I can't help but let out moans when his finger is fully buried. He gives me slaps on the buttocks. He tells me I'm a beautiful slut. I'm quiet, no longer complaining. Let him do what he wants, I think. Afterward, he cums in that same position.
— Go away. Mariano will arrive at any moment —I say when it's over, with semen sliding down my thigh—. Please go away —I beg, almost crying.
— There's no need to lie. According to him, he went out with some friends today and won't be coming until late.
— Do you talk to him?
— Yes. I get along well with him. He's a good guy.
— You get along well... And do you screw his girlfriend?
— That's life.
He wipes off the cock and goes back to his position. I'm convinced it won't be the last time I'll have to deal with him.
Fin
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