We're Sevillians. We shared a class at school, but never crossed a word. We met again at the alternative university parties in Triana as complete strangers, when we had already shed our immaculate shame hot blondes squirting with other people.
Now it's one of those nights when the stress of work keeps me awake. I try to read, but my mind disperses towards the sweetening of lived images. My sex is wet and hot. My hands are opening it up.
My fingers are sifting through waves of pleasure. My dreams compose his burning limb piercing my figure... While he sleeps next to his wife.
This is a story of infidelity. Those of Fede with his wife; those of a man with his thoughts, feelings and desires. It is also my sexual story: that of a woman tied to the sensory submission of anal sex, uncomfortably combined with the magically coercive universe of princess life dreams, with which I was fed as a child.
I'm the bad girl facing the rest who, in reality, is nothing more than a little piece of meat that served the interests of a sentimental freeloader. The notes of my life are as unfaithful with the sensations, as the poison that oozed from his mouth when he gave me gifts of praise.
Am I bad for wanting to sleep with other men to forget the damage he did to me, or am I terrible for pretending that I only like to practice the missionary?
My shattered feelings have vetoed the memory to specify when it happened, although I can still visualize the first night he engraved his name in my soul. It was a party. On the banks of the Guadalquivir, his verbiage dazzled me. His flattery and the contemporary mead of Betis Street led us to an intense magnetisation in darker areas, Blondes masturbating where everything became more passionate and romantic. We were heading for his old apartment in the Ronda de Triana, but our bodies could not resist the continuous and lascivious impulses, which prevented us from advancing at the speed at which the immediacy of our dreams excited us.
The police station was only a few metres away and, in front, through the hollow in the abdomen of the statue of Belmonte, the Giralda stood. He lifted my skirt with the mastery that a bullfighter does for veronicas. My earrings tinkled with each of their strong, but contained thrusts. In my mind there was only the possibility of being stopped by a policeman at any moment. But my sex was indomitably his...
Stop, please. Let's go to your house," I begged him between moans.
In a gesture of indulgence, he arranged my thong by sliding his finger between my wet, burning lips. She placed the skirt, and turned me around at the waist to kiss me as she stared at me.
-Let's go to my bed," he ordered sweetly.
The road became eternal. The climb up the perpendicular streets was interrupted by quick, passionate kisses and caresses. We heard drunken laughter, soiling our tenderness with vulgar harangues, but nothing but him mattered. And, in any case, there were only a few minutes left to begin feverishly undressing in his bedroom...
I've never felt such sublime excitement. My body took thousands blondes sexy of positions, above and below his limb. Licking it, caressing it, I raised and lowered its skin again and again, and inserted it into my vagina. I had never had so much complicity. There was no time. It was all sex. I was an extension of his body. And, until that moment, the orders came from my hands...
-Turn around," he said without expecting any resistance.
I turned on my elbows and knees, lifting my buttocks. After shaking one of my cheeks he stood up, opened a drawer, and took out some lubricant.
-Fede, I don't need any. I'm soaked... -I told him innocently.
-Inma, I'm going to penetrate your ass," he answered with absolute concentration.
I was going to tell her that I had never tried it. I was going to tell her that the thought of anal penetration excited me. I was going to let him do it, as if he were in control of my body. But nothing was necessary. His fingers pressed against my mount of Venus and came close, surrounding my virginal entrance. They subtly slit open, and my figure became hotter and hotter. I wanted to see the moment when he penetrated me, but everything went very quickly. Pain. Pleasure. Intensity. Tension... I loved it. I loved everything: him, his penis and, above all, anal sex.
For days I thought only of our reunion, while I played the sexual sequences. I couldn't study. Every time I tried, my brain drove my fingers into my crotch. I was suffocating. I masturbated. All I could think about was the new world of anal sensations.
I felt as ashamed as I was evil. Was the anus a cavity that deserved so much passion and sensual respect, or should I eliminate the practice even from my dreams? Would it be just as satisfying and hot with all men?
After two hours, sitting in front of those soporific manuals, I threw these moral questions into the trash. The blood boiled and caused another onanistic episode. The spiritual wounds only generated more pulses that drew him by opening my entrance, from behind blonde sex anal. Again and again.
Tension and contraction. Open up! -I shouted at him in my reverie. The hours passed very slowly. The mobile didn't ring...
He finally called. It took him a month and a half to do it. It must have been 3 a.m. and his voice sounded like a broken tavern jar. I told him the address five times. I texted him to make sure. I got up and ran to clean up and look for the panties and the camisole that, coincidentally, were sexy. Almost an hour later, the doorbell rang.
-Go upstairs, it's 7B.
I heard an unintelligible voice. For a moment I thought I had opened the door of the building to a stranger. My soul was on edge, my body aching. I had a little panic attack, thinking that something terrible might happen to me. What kind of decisions we make in life to open the door and wish it was a drunk man! Or is it the world that puts us in these tessertions?
I silently approached the peephole to check if it was him. I heard the elevator and clumsy footsteps approaching. It was him. He was a mess. I opened with an instant maternal feeling, which would soon fade.
-Fede, you're in pain! -I said compassionately.
-You think so? -he grunted, seizing my vulva with his hand.
-I begged nervously and unconsciously. Let's go to my room," I stammered.
Suddenly I was a custard and he was in control of the whole situation. I let myself be carried away by his wishes and did everything he asked. But I just wanted to repeat our first date.
-Fede, do it to me again," I begged him.
-You first..." he said with some embarrassment as he pulled me away from the center of the bed.
-What? -I don't understand? -Was he asking me to penetrate him? -No.
He'd gone doggy style and was mumbling to me about inserting his fingers.
-Come on, do it," he kept asking me.
He spread his legs and started masturbating.
-Do you want me to do it for you? -I asked in confusion.
-Do both at once," he asked in a despondent tone, as if the guilt were eating away at him.
-I'll do whatever you want, Fede.
I salivated my fingers and, with extreme delicacy, reproduced what he had taught me. What I couldn't imagine was what was about to happen. I began to masturbate him, while subtly inserting a finger. I stroked his inside in circles, when I noticed that his limb was becoming rock hard. He groaned pleasantly and lightly. I inserted my finger a little more until I noticed a rough area. He groaned louder. His penis, stony. I continued for a few more seconds, until it exploded. A liquid spurt pushed the skin hot, spilling over into my hand and the bed. And he didn't scream, he bellowed with pleasure.
-This must have been incredible," I said, as he fell face down on the pillow.
The next day, disenchantment came. He confessed he had a girlfriend. That he loved her very much. That he didn't remember anything about the night before. Thank you for breakfast and sex, but no, thank you. And he got dressed and left. And I didn't hear from him until a year later when he called me again in the morning.
We started seeing each other underground and more often. Years went by and we were still at the same point. We were just having anal sex. We had the same vice. We shared the same spell, the same seduction. We treasured those huge, explosive orgasms... until she got married.
-We can't see each other anymore. You're very sweet, Inma. You're the woman who's given me the most pleasure in life, but in five months I'll be a married man. I can't do this to my family, I hope you understand that -and hung up-.
Yesterday I walked on the bridge of Isabel II, the bridge of Triana, and I saw those locks, symbols of the love of people I don't know. And I thought that Fede is also a stranger... to his wife.
And now I'm masturbating. Imagining that he penetrates me from behind and makes me climb up to the orgasmic sky. Cheating on me. Thinking that someday it will happen again. Lying with other men like it's the first time. Pretending I'm a liberated but anally puritanical girl; trying to show a supposed virtue in private, when I'm branded as vicious in public.
Sexuality shouldn't be about choosing where to be a princess and a whore. The mere fact of choosing will lead you to experience another story of infidelity. For there is no greater vileness than betraying oneself. And Fede...
I can't imagine worse evils than denying such human pleasures, to appear to be a pater familias of the most macho. What does one have to do with the other! I, at least, and in spite of my terrible mistakes, let myself be bewitched by anal seduction in my loneliness. It's probably impossible to be unfaithful in the strictest intimacy...