When I Stopped Waiting

Note: This is a true story. Some names and details have been altered to protect the privacy of those involved, but the feelings—and the heat—are 100% real.

I

I’m not entirely sure how to start this confession. I suppose the best way is to lay it out straight: this is a true story. Obviously, I’ve changed the names and blurred the identifying details, because by putting this out there, I’m risking an eight-year relationship with my partner—and a hell of a lot more. But I think it’s a story worth telling, if only to prove that sometimes, your darkest fantasies actually do come true. For better or worse. And always when you least expect it.

My name is Luis. I’m thirty-six years old, and I’ve been hopelessly in love with Sergio, my best friend, for almost fourteen years. We met at Pappy Dog, a sweaty, pulsing gay club, back in August of ’94. He was a friend of a friend, but Sergio was strictly straight. He only ended up at Pappy’s because his gay friends had made the sacrifice of dragging him to Tretas first—an old-school straight club—hoping he’d finally hook up with a girl. The kid had just turned nineteen and hadn't even popped his cherry yet. But he’d completely chickened out, anchoring himself to the bar, nervously sipping his rum and coke, too paralyzed to make a move on a single woman there.

And once he stepped into Pappy’s, well... his chances of getting laid were pretty much shot.

To put the final nail in the coffin of his night, his buddies vanished into the darkroom, leaving Sergio completely stranded in the quietest corner of the bar. He just stood there, watching a sea of jacked guys rolling on ecstasy grinding against each other, occasionally shooting a hopeful glance at some lesbian walking past on her way to the dance floor.

His night was a total trainwreck until I bumped into our mutual friend in the bathrooms. He was thrilled to see me, dragged me upstairs, and planted me right next to Sergio. He introduced us, begged me to babysit him, and immediately bolted off to suck some cock.

I didn’t mind playing babysitter one bit. The kid was charming, and he was massive—a broad-shouldered guy from the north who easily passed for twenty-five despite being nineteen. And handsome as fuck. Or guapo de cojones—handsome as balls—as we say here. Not that I actually got to see his. I fucking wish.

The point is, we hit it off. We started talking, knocking back drinks, and I found out he lived just a couple of blocks from my apartment. At some point in the night, he finally asked me where the hell his friends had disappeared to.

"The darkroom," I replied.

He looked at me, completely clueless.

"What’s that? The bathroom? Is it really that filthy?"

You have to remember, back then, barely anyone had the internet—if it even existed for us yet—and there weren't any explicit shows on TV. Straight guys were completely oblivious to how things actually worked in the gay scene compared to how they are today.

So I explained the concept of a darkroom to him, and his eyes went as wide as dinner plates.

"Wait, so guys just go down there and start fucking?"

"Or sucking cock."

"And there’s no light at all?"

"Just the spark of a lighter every now and then."

"Holy shit. They definitely don’t have that in normal clubs."

I let the normal comment slide. I didn't bother lecturing him about how Pappy’s was perfectly normal despite being packed wall-to-wall with fags. I had already decided right then and there that he was going to be one of my best friends. I figured I’d be seeing a lot of him, so I’d have plenty of time to educate him later.

Instead, I just grabbed his large hand and pulled him toward the stairs. "Come on. I’ll show you."

"Alright. But if anybody touches me, I’m screaming."

"Deal. And I’ll run you right out of here."

We stepped slowly into the darkroom. The first narrow hallway was lined with men, their eyes tracking us intently under the faint, blueish glow spilling in from the bathrooms. We had to shuffle past them in a tight little train, mostly because Sergio had plastered his front right against my ass like he was glued there. Honestly, it made walking a pain, but the poor kid was spooked. We pushed a little deeper, and soon enough, the darkness swallowed us completely.

"Does it bother you that I'm pressed up against you like this? I'm practically fucking you in the ass," he whispered right into my ear.

A jolt of pure heat shot down my spine.

"God, no. You're turning me on so fucking much right now. You won't hear a single complaint out of me."

"You're fucking with me, right?"

"Not even a little. But don't worry. It doesn't hurt."

"If it doesn't hurt, you can't be that turned on."

"Reach down and feel for yourself."

"Not a fucking chance."

"Alright, alright. Suit yourself."

Like I said, a textbook straight guy. We kept pushing through the pitch black until I let go of his hands. Not that it mattered—he had immediately locked his fingers together right over my stomach, making damn sure I couldn't slip away from him.

"What are you doing?" he asked, sounding borderline panicked.

"Feeling around for the wall. Unless you want me to bust my teeth open in the dark."

"Right. Obviously."

That’s when we heard it. Just to our right. A wet, sloppy sucking sound. The unmistakable noise of someone licking their lips.

"Someone's getting a hell of a blowjob," Sergio whispered, a slight edge of hysteria in his voice.

"Actually, I think someone's getting their ass eaten," I corrected him.

To my surprise, Sergio was the one who pulled a lighter from his pocket and flicked it on, illuminating the whole damn scene.

For a split second, I caught a glimpse of about thirty men getting off in every way imaginable, working with tools of all shapes and sizes.

"Fuck, it's packed in here tonight," I muttered.

Suddenly, someone swatted Sergio's hand hard, sending the lighter flying out of his grip.

"Don't pick it up," he pleaded, as the pitch-black swallowed us again.

"Wasn't planning on it," I replied.

"Jesus, they play rough in here!"

"Did they hurt you?"

"Nah, I'm good."

"It's called a darkroom for a reason, idiot," I scolded him affectionately. "By the way..."

"A blowjob," he answered. "I was right."

We kept pushing deeper into the darkness for another ten minutes. At one point, a frantic, wet slap, slap, slap let us know someone was getting absolutely railed just inches away from us. I waited, my pulse hammering, desperate to feel even the slightest twitch in Sergio's crotch—which was still pressed flush against my ass—but absolutely nothing stirred down there.

When we finally made it out into the light, I gave him the third degree.

"Well? What did you think?”

"Fascinating."

"You didn't even get hard."

"Was I supposed to?"

"When I was your age, just the word 'sex' was enough to get me rock hard."

"You're only three years older than me. And I don't swing that way. Guys don't do it for me."

"But there were people in there literally choking on cock."

"But they were dudes."

"But it could've been your cock."

"But it's not the same."

"But..."

And he let me keep throwing "buts" at him for the rest of the night, though he stopped arguing back. I suppose Sergio had already decided right then that I was going to be one of his best friends, and that he’d have plenty of time to educate me until I finally grasped that straight guys don't get hard watching men fuck.

Days bled into each other, and I fell hopelessly, disastrously in love with Sergio.

Weeks passed, and I confessed it to him.

Months went by, and our bond only deepened. He gave me all the love I craved—the tight hugs, the raw affection, the constant, lingering physical touch.

Everything. Except sex.

Sometimes we’d even crash in the same bed after a night of heavy drinking. Nothing ever happened, though. Even when I was starving for him, dying to just lean over and taste his mouth, I refused to make a move that might ruin the beautiful thing we didn't quite have.

And I was happy like that for two years. Until Sergio met Marta. And they got married. And I had to go find my own happiness with a guy who was a hell of a lot less straight.

We kept the friendship alive. So much so that Marcos (my boyfriend back then, now my husband), Sergio, his wife, and yours truly would get together for dinner two or three times a month. We spent New Year’s Eve together, organized camping trips, parties, card games, and the occasional vacation. More recently, we’d spend entire weekends binge-watching the first few seasons of Lost.

I’m not ashamed to admit that through all of this, I’ve stayed secretly, desperately in love with him. Or that, as the years went by, any physical contact with Sergio—the tight hugs, the casual cheek kisses, the firm handshakes—took on a deeply sexual weight for me. Sergio makes me rock hard. Now more than ever. And I’ll confess right here that I’ve jerked off in his bathroom more than once, fishing his worn boxers out of the laundry hamper and burying my face in the fabric, breathing in the raw, musky scent of his cock.

Anyway. About two months ago, Sergio called my cell. He sounded on edge.

"Did you guys have a fight?" I asked. Sergio and Marta don't usually fight, but when they do, they make a hell of a racket, and it’s usually the DVD player that pays the price, ending up launched right off the balcony. It’s always some cheap DVD player from the supermarket. For some reason, their rage never quite pushes them to smash the expensive premium cable box.

"No. It's not that. Can you come over?”

"Of course. I'm on my way."

It was a Thursday afternoon. I finish work early, and Marcos doesn't get home until nine. I had about two and a half hours to dedicate entirely to Sergio.

I got to his place, rang the bell, and he opened the door shirtless and barefoot, wearing nothing but a pair of loose, white cropped pants hanging low on his hips. The second I saw him, my mouth watered and I was instantly dripping—or as a girlfriend of mine likes to say, my pussy turned into a puddle.

"Come in." To my absolute dismay, he didn't give me his usual welcoming hug.

I followed him to the living room couch, where he slumped down, looking completely defeated.

"What happened?" I asked, starting to actually worry.

"I can't take it anymore. If things keep going like this, I'm leaving her."

So it was about Marta after all.

"Same old story?" I asked.

He nodded, giving me these pathetic, kicked-puppy eyes.

The thing is, after more than ten years of marriage, Marta was still absolutely unwilling to suck his cock.

"She has zero problem with me burying my face between her legs and eating her out, but she won't even taste it. Won't even smell it. She won't even let me blow my load on her tits!"

I knew this song and dance by heart. Marta had this bizarre phobia of semen. Just looking at it made her gag, so the risk of him unloading on her tongue was completely out of the question...

"I can't do this anymore. I'm up to my fucking balls with this.”

"Come on, man. You can't rethink your entire marriage over something as trivial as Marta refusing to suck your cock, Sergio."

"Sure, easy for you to say. You actually get your dick sucked..."

"If she was freezing you out completely, that'd be one thing. But you guys are still fucking."

"But I want a fucking blowjob. And then two thousand more, just to make up for lost time."

"And what does she say when you ask?"

"She tells me to go jerk off."

"Have you ever thought about stepping out on her?"

"Have you? Have you thought about cheating on Marcos? Exactly. It's not an option."

I'd cheat on him with you in a heartbeat, you bastard, I thought.

"Well, I don't know what else to tell you. It's a tough problem to fix," I lied, considering I was fully prepared to drop to my knees and solve it for him right then and there.

"For what it's worth, I've always said blowjobs are overrated."

"Right now, I can't think of a single thing I want more."

"That's because you're a prisoner of your own heterosexuality. I'd trade a great blowjob for getting my ass eaten any day of the week." I didn't say it like a transaction, but God, I wished Sergio had taken it as an offer.

"I don't know, man. I think that would gross her out even more."

"Ah. So she hasn't done that either."

"Don't torture me, alright? I already know you get to play the field a lot more than I do."

"Only because you choose not to."

"I think we've made that pretty fucking clear by now, don't you?"

"I didn't mean with me, dumbass—though I wouldn't exactly complain if you offered. I meant with her. I bet she's never even sucked your nipples, has she? I bet it hasn't even crossed your mind to ask."

"She accidentally got a mouthful of my armpit once and looked disgusted for three days straight. Besides, my nipples aren't even sensitive."

"Bullshit. Give me twenty seconds and these two fingers, and I could have you rock hard."

"But you're you, not her."

"So?"

"You're a dude. You couldn't turn me on if I was blackout drunk."

"Come here and prove it."

"No way. If I actually get hard, you'll hold it over my masculinity for the rest of my life."

"You have a seriously warped concept of masculinity. Come on. Get over here. Twenty seconds on the clock."

"Fine."

And to my absolute surprise, he shifted over, laid his head right in my lap, and closed his eyes.

"No tickling."

"I'll stick strictly to the nipples."

"With your fingers."

"Obviously."

"Alright. Go. I'll count in my head."

My heart instantly started hammering against my ribs. For the first time in my life, I had Sergio completely surrendered to my touch for something explicitly sexual. I was actually going to try and turn him on. I was going to rub his nipples with my bare hands, and... I got rock hard, right beneath the weight of his head. He had to be feeling my erection pressing against him, but he didn't pull away.

"Are you gonna start?" he murmured, keeping his eyes closed as he started humming the theme from Kill Bill.

So I brushed his right nipple, agonizingly slow, tracing tiny circles with the tip of my index finger. I was dying to tangle my fingers in the thick, dark hair covering his chest, but I forced myself to stick to the rules, lightly grazing one nipple, then the other.

Sergio shivered slightly. I kept working his nipples, slow and deliberate, while my cock throbbed relentlessly under the weight of his head, which suddenly felt like it was pressing much heavier into my lap. At some point, I realized Sergio had stopped humming. He didn't seem to be counting anymore, either.

I kept massaging him, fully aware that the twenty seconds were long gone and that this could end at any second. So I started pressing a little harder. His nipples went completely rigid, the hair on his arms stood on end, and suddenly, he jolted—and shoved his loose white pants all the way down to his knees.

Without opening his eyes, he leaned back against my crotch, grabbed his cock, and started stroking himself with a brutal, frantic rhythm. My heart was hammering so hard against my ribs that I barely even dared to look down at it. I just kept working his nipples while he jerked off. But then the raw, heavy scent of his cock hit me, and I had no choice but to look.

It was massive—thick, heavily veined, and the exact perfect size to make my mouth water like a starving man. But his balls were almost better. They were so heavy and full that I was desperately tempted to reach down just to weigh them in my hands. Still, given the miracle of what was already happening, I figured I had more than enough, so I didn't dare move.

Sergio seemed to have other plans. Keeping his eyes firmly shut, he shifted his body closer, pressing his back flat against my thighs. I adjusted my position so he could rest against my chest. Now, while my fingers kept playing with his nipples, my arms were brushing against his shoulders, and my raging erection was trapped flush against his lower back.

His strokes hit a wicked, frantic pace, and I sped up my hands to match him. Then, Sergio started tilting his face up, as if he were searching for my lips. He parted his mouth, his tongue darting out just a fraction.

Fuck it, I told myself, and I kissed him.

He opened his lips wider, inviting me in, and I devoured his mouth with years of starved, pent-up desperation. Our tongues tangled together, and that was all it took for Sergio to come with a violent intensity I had rarely seen in another man. Thick ropes of cum shot out, splattering across his chest in heavy waves that felt like they were never going to end.

One of those heavy ropes splattered across my fingers. Sergio had broken the kiss, surrendering completely to the overwhelming force of his climax. His eyes were still squeezed shut, so I seized the moment, bringing my slick fingers to my lips to finally taste him.

We stayed frozen like that for a few minutes, the only sound his ragged breathing slowly evening out, while my own cock kept hammering relentlessly against his spine. Suddenly, he stood up and casually asked if I wanted a Coke.

I told him I needed a paper towel first.

He opened the fridge, grabbed a can, and poured the soda into a glass. But he didn't hand me a towel, even though there were two or three rolls sitting right there on the kitchen counter. I still had streaks of his cum drying on my arms, but he had clearly made the executive decision to completely ignore what had just happened.

"I'm gonna take a shower. It's fucking boiling in here."

And just like that, he vanished into the bathroom.

I ended up washing his load off my skin at the kitchen sink.

Ten minutes later, he had practically shoved me out the front door.

And, as you can probably guess, it didn't end there.

II

Hey. Luis here, and I'm back.

The other day, I told you how I met and fell in love with Sergio, and how, years later, I finally managed to have something resembling a sexual encounter with him. An encounter where, immediately afterward, Sergio acted like absolutely nothing had happened and practically shoved me out his front door in under two minutes.

The truth is, that experience completely wrecked me.

I couldn't stop obsessing over what happened. I was constantly jerking off to the memory of it. And worse—whenever I fucked Marcos, my husband, I’d close my eyes and picture myself right back there with Sergio. Back in his living room, stroking his chest, delicately teasing his nipples with my fingertips until he got so unbelievably hot that he shoved his pants down and started jerking off like a savage, reaching such a state of mindless, blissful frenzy that he desperately chased my mouth for a kiss.

Up to that point, that’s exactly how it happened in real life.

But in my fantasy, we both blew our loads after a spectacular, mind-bending fuck, and Sergio finally confessed that he’d been in love with me all these years.

Then I would open my eyes. And seeing Marcos—so handsome, so genuinely good, smiling happily at the life we’ve built, completely oblivious to my dark thoughts and my agonizing love for another man—it absolutely crushed my fucking soul.

But on the other hand, despite the crushing guilt, I knew exactly what I wanted. I needed to clear the air with Sergio about what happened, and, obviously, I wanted to do it again. Even though I knew the chances of that were slim to none.

So, six days after that heavy make-out session and mutual masturbation incitement (because, let's be honest, it wasn't much more than that), I picked up my phone, dialed his number, and... hung up immediately. I couldn't call him. I was terrified he wouldn't pick up, or worse, that he’d answer just to tell me he never wanted to see me again.

The best move was to just show up at his place. Maybe face-to-face I could force him to be reasonable. (I have no fucking clue what I was thinking, because if Sergio actually used reason, he would have cut ties with me right then and there). The point is, I headed over to his house, completely forgetting it was a Wednesday.

I parked the car, walked up to his front door, and hesitated. This was wrong. Fuck, I had just gotten married! Marcos and I hadn't even been legally wed for six months, even though we’d been together for about seven years. (By the way, the mayor who married us was a conservative, but he didn't raise a single objection. Hell, he even came out partying with us afterward, and I'm still not entirely sure how, where, or with whom his night ended).

Anyway, out of sheer respect for my husband and our relationship, I turned around and started walking back to my car.

And that’s when the front door swung open, and I heard a voice behind me—a voice I was absolutely not expecting.

"Luis! Are you leaving?"

I spun around, my heart in my throat. It was Marta, Sergio's wife and one of my best friends. I had completely forgotten she had Wednesdays off.

"Did you knock? I didn't hear anything."

She didn't sound suspicious. It seemed like she hadn't caught on to anything, so I quickly wrapped myself in a blanket of casual nonchalance.

"I came to see that stud you call a husband," I said. Okay, maybe that didn't sound as casual as I’d hoped. "But then I remembered it was your day off, and I figured I shouldn't bother you guys."

"Get in here, idiot." Marta grabbed her keys from the shelf by the door and stepped out with Tico, her miniature schnauzer, who greeted me by bouncing around in excited little circles.

If you knew I was here to destroy your pack, you wouldn't be so fucking happy, I thought.

"I'm taking this little pest for a walk. I'll be back in ten minutes. See if you can fix his mood."

"Is he pissed off?"

"He's been a total bear all week." She looked down at her dog. "Sorry, sweetie, I didn't mean to generalize."

"Well, maybe I should just head out then."

"No, stay. I'm sure he'll be happy to see you." Marta was already walking away, pulling the little dog along with her Cameron Diaz-style strut. Honestly, there was a bit of a resemblance between them. Though I had a strong feeling Marta's phobia of semen wasn't something the actress shared.

I stepped inside and shut the door behind me. The air conditioning dried the sweat on my forehead in a matter of seconds. I undid the top two buttons of my shirt—not to be provocative, but because I suddenly felt like I was suffocating. I walked into the living room looking for my friend, but he wasn't there.

I didn't know whether to sit down and wait for him to appear or make my presence known. He might not have heard Marta and me talking, and he probably thought he was home alone. I didn't want to give him a heart attack by surprising him, and more importantly, I didn't want to waste our ten minutes of privacy. So, I called out his name.

Five seconds later, he came down the hallway, looking completely pissed off.

"What are you doing here?"

He was shirtless and barefoot again, though this time he wasn't wearing those loose cropped pants, but a pair of short board shorts. I just stood there, completely mesmerized, staring right at his crotch.

"I came back for more," I blurted out, instantly horrified by my own words the second they left my mouth.

"A fucking beating is what you're gonna get."

Mmm, this is not going the way I planned. I was tempted to say the first thing that popped into my head: that it wasn't my fault my fingers had turned him on, that he was the one who jerked himself off into a frenzy and blew a massive load all over my hands. But that wasn't fair. Besides, I understood the disgust he was feeling, because part of me felt it toward myself, too.

There were two people who would suffer because of what we did. The fact that I was standing there asking for more really did warrant a punch in the face.

"I'll let you hit me if you let me suck your cock first," I blurted out.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Your balls."

"Get out of here before I actually get pissed."

I was playing with fire, but Sergio's only real weak spot was blowjobs. He had spent years waiting for Marta to finally agree to suck his dick.

"We have eight minutes left. I can give you a blowjob you'll remember for the rest of your life in eight minutes."

To my absolute surprise, he smiled.

"Is that a yes?" I asked, a surge of hope hitting my chest.

"You are completely out of your fucking mind. You remind me of the Luis I didn't fall in love with, always prowling around to see if you could get a taste."

"Hey, I was incredibly respectful with you."

"Because you were in love."

A long, heavy silence fell between us. I held his gaze while Sergio absentmindedly scratched his chest, right over his left nipple.

When he realized what he was doing, he cleared his throat and walked into the kitchen.

I heard him open the fridge. He came back holding a bottle of beer.

"Now drink and shut the fuck up," he ordered. And he sat down at his computer.

I glued myself to the back of his chair.

"What are you doing?" I asked innocently.

"I told you to drink and shut up."

"I bet if I look at your browser history, I'll find a ton of gay porn sites."

"Keep dreaming."

"Well, no. You probably deleted them so..."

I stopped dead in my tracks. I had been a split second away from bringing up Marta. Sergio shot up from his chair like his ass was on fire and shoved me hard, sending me crashing onto the sofa. I spilled beer everywhere.

"I could have gotten hurt," I said, genuinely startled.

My friend was so pissed off he looked like the fucking Hulk.

"Listen to me very carefully, you cocksucker..."

"Poor choice of words."

"What?"

"Calling me a cocksucker. Poor choice of words. You can't possibly know what kind of cocksucker I am unless you find out for yourself."

"What the fuck are you on? Are you gonna let me speak for once in your goddamn life?"

"Go ahead. Speak. But if you shove me again, I'll break your fucking nose," I said, deciding it was time to play hardball.

It seemed the sudden shift in tone caught him off guard, because after staring at me like I had completely lost my mind, he turned around and sat back down at the computer. Then, much calmer and without looking at me, he said:

"What happened the other day shouldn't have happened, and it's never going to happen again. I want you to forget it, and I want you to never bring it up again. If you can't do that, you can walk out of this house right now and never step foot in it for the rest of your fucking life."

At that moment, a little voice in my head screamed at me to shut up, warning me that saying another word could cost me his friendship forever. But I was completely unhinged, and I couldn't bite my tongue.

"I love you," I blurted out. And I waited a second to see how he’d react.

"I love you too," he murmured.

"But I love you more. I love you in that way."

"Then we're right back to where we've always been."

"I guess you're right. Can I get one of your hugs?" Honestly, it had been years since I’d asked him for a pathetic, pity hug.

Sergio stood up and opened his arms wide like a bear, and I wrapped myself around his body, trying to force myself to accept that this was going back to being the only thing I’d ever get from him.

Well. That hug lasted five solid minutes. It only broke when we heard the front door open.

"Do you feel better now?" Sergio whispered.

"I'm completely relaxed, honestly. I’d forgotten about the narcotic effect of your hugs."

I figured that now that Marta was home, Sergio would pull away so she wouldn't catch us wrapped around each other. But instead, he started tickling me, tackling me onto the sofa and throwing his entire weight on top of me. Tico, the miniature schnauzer, came running in and started barking at us, clearly jealous. Marta walked in, still holding the leash, and found us tangled in a knot of arms and legs.

"Wow, I see you managed to wipe that dead-man look off his face."

"Get him off me," I pleaded, barely able to speak through the tickling. "He's trying to kill me."

"Alright, enough. Jesus, you're so rough. And there's beer everywhere. Go get dressed, we're leaving." Marta whipped Sergio lightly with the dog leash, and he jumped off the sofa yelling like a madman.

"Where are you guys going?" I asked Marta, trying to straighten out my clothes.

"To the mall. You wanna come?"

"Sure."

Sergio shot me a warning glare, and I just shrugged, giving him my best innocent-boy smile.

We went to La Muesca Alemana, a slightly upscale department store with seven floors and an overpriced supermarket in the basement. First, we browsed the books to see if there was anything new from our favorite authors, and then we wandered over to the music section, even though we hadn't planned on buying anything there. That is, until I saw that Marcos's favorite band had just released a special box set, and I grabbed it instantly.

Sergio seemed much more relaxed after that, as if the simple act of me buying a gift for my husband put everything back in its proper place. I wondered what he would think if he knew I had absolutely no intention of giving up that easily.

We went up a couple of floors with Marta because she was looking for a mouse for her laptop (her trackpad was acting up). She was busy searching for it when Sergio announced he was going to the bathroom and asked if I needed to go, too. I searched his eyes for any hint of lust, but all I saw was indifference.

"Yeah. I'll come too," I chimed in, though I couldn't shake the feeling that the atmosphere had suddenly shifted.

"I'll stay here," Marta said. "If I'm not right here, I'll be looking at the iPads."

I followed Sergio through the endless aisles of the department store until we reached the men's room on that floor, located right next to the elevators. We walked in, and I noticed it had double doors with a tiny, three-foot square vestibule in between them. It was the perfect setup for sucking cock—if someone walked in, you’d hear the first door open, giving whoever was down on their knees plenty of time to stand up and act natural.

I kept telling myself that nothing was going to happen, that I was just seeing things. Sergio was treating me like I was straight, acting as if I hadn't just thrown myself at him. He wanted everything between us to scream normal, right down to taking a piss together.

The bathroom seemed empty. Five urinals lined the back wall, and to the right were two stalls with those standard doors cut high at the bottom and low at the top. Sergio pushed both of them open, as if he needed to be absolutely certain we were alone.

"You're acting a little weird," I told him.

"Why?"

"I don't know. You just are."

"I'm just taking a piss."

He unzipped his pants, but he didn't step up to a urinal. Instead, he kept his eyes locked dead on mine as the zipper slid down. My gaze dropped instantly to his crotch.

"And now I'm taking it out to piss," he said.

He fumbled with his boxers for a second before pulling his half-hard cock out through the fly, followed by his heavy balls. He stroked himself, a slow, deliberate pump up and down, while I watched, completely mesmerized.

"And now you're going to get on your knees and suck my cock."

I didn't give him a fraction of a second to change his mind. I dropped to my knees right there on the tiles, bringing my face inches from the dick I had been dying to devour—the one Sergio, in a sudden fit of absolute madness, was actually offering me.

I took his cock in my hand, slow and deliberate, treating it like a sacred ritual. I felt it swell, expanding to its full, heavy size the second my skin met his. I brought my lips to his foreskin, breathing in his deep, musky scent, and... we heard the outer door of the bathroom swing open.

Sergio spun around on autopilot, facing the wall to pretend he was taking a piss. I stood up slowly, absolutely furious at the universe, and started pulling my own dick out to play along. A guy just as heavily built as Sergio—though with a thicker beard and, judging by the dark hair spilling out of his shirt collar, hairy as fuck—pulled a literal baseball bat out of his tailored suit pants and started pissing at the urinal to Sergio's left.

Meanwhile, Sergio kept up the charade of taking a leak, but a quick sideways glance from my spot at the urinal to his right confirmed he was still rock hard. I started stroking myself discreetly, my mind racing with what was waiting for me the second this intruder fucked off.

About sixty seconds ticked by, and nobody moved a muscle. The hairy guy had finished pissing and given himself a vigorous shake, but he was still just standing there. I watched Sergio sneak a sideways glance at the guy's junk. He couldn't hide his absolute shock.

The hairy guy started jerking off without an ounce of shame, stepping back from the urinal and positioning his massive cock just inches from Sergio's left hand. Sergio shot me a look of pure disbelief. Suddenly, the guy thrust his hips forward, bumping that monstrous piece of meat right against Sergio's hand. Sergio recoiled, awkwardly stuffing his raging hard-on back into his pants. The stranger locked eyes with me and pointed at his heavy junk. I just shook my head no.

Taking the hint, he packed away his colossal equipment and thick bush of pubic hair, zipping up and walking out—probably to hunt down a busier bathroom.

Alone again, Sergio walked over to the sinks and started washingThe hairy guy then started jerking off without an ounce of shame, stepping back from the urinal and positioning his massive cock just inches from Sergio's left hand. Sergio looked at me in pure disbelief. Suddenly, the guy thrust his hips, bumping that absolute monster of a dick against Sergio's hand. Sergio recoiled, awkwardly stuffing his own raging hard-on back into his pants. The stranger caught my eye and pointed at his heavy artillery, to which I just shook my head no.

Taking the hint, he packed away his colossal equipment and that thick bush of pubic hair, and walked out—probably in search of a busier bathroom.

Alone again, Sergio walked over to the sinks and started washing his hands, staring at himself in the mirror. He had the strangest look on his face.

"Explain to me what just happened," he demanded.

"That guy was cruising. Looking for action."

"Here? In La Muesca Alemana? No fucking way."

"Why not? That's exactly what we came in here for."

"You mean this is a regular thing?"

"All the time. Everywhere."

"Then how come I've never noticed?"

I thought back to years ago, remembering how shocked he was when I first explained to him what a darkroom was. I realized the poor guy hadn't evolved much since then.

"You've never noticed because when you come in here to take a piss, you aren't thinking about sex."

"Would that guy have sucked my dick?"

"I don't know. I think he was hoping you'd suck his."

"But there have to be guys out there who would be willing to blow me."

"Hey, big guy. I'm all you need."

"We should head back. Marta's gonna start worrying."

"Fuck that." I grabbed him by the arm and dragged him into one of the stalls.

"They can see us," he said, pointing at the gaps in the door.

"Let them watch and jerk off for all I care."

We locked the door. I sat down on the closed toilet lid and started stroking the massive bulge straining against his pants, rubbing my cheek against the fabric. It was absolute heaven feeling that heavy hardness against my face.

"You want cock?" he asked. For a guy with zero experience with men, he nailed the dominant tone perfectly, stopping me from laughing.

"I want cock."

He unbuttoned his pants, slid the zipper down, and exposed his briefs.

"You take it out."

I grabbed the blue cotton, pulled it toward me, and freed his heavy dick and those perfect balls out the right side of his underwear. He clearly loved it, because his cock instantly surged back to its full, enviable size.

"Now put it in your mouth, before someone else walks in."

I obeyed, and Sergio's eyes rolled back in his head.

"Have you really never had your dick sucked?" I asked suddenly.

"Shut the fuck up and suck," he growled.

"Seriously?"

"No. Never. You're the first. Enjoy it and shut up."

"God, your cock is massive."

"Suck."

"And the way it... tastes..."

With my lips wrapped around his head, I gently cupped his sac with my right hand, weighing his heavy balls with absolute delight, and slowly took his entire length deep into my mouth.

Feeling the dick I had lusted after for years finally stretching my mouth, confirming that Sergio had the thickest, most enormous cock I had ever tasted, sent a violent shiver of pure pleasure down my spine. I felt a tight, heavy ache at the base of my balls—a surge of electric current warning me that my arousal was pushed to the absolute limit and that my climax was going to be legendary. My own dick was screaming for attention. As I savored the slick, salty taste of his pre-cum, I pulled myself out and started stroking my length slowly, absorbing this long-awaited fantasy with every single one of my senses. Sergio looked completely hypnotized. He couldn't tear his eyes away from my mouth.

He seemed to get off on seeing his cock slick with my spit, so I indulged him. Every now and then, I’d pull off, letting him admire it gleaming and thick in all its glory.

"Fuck..." he breathed.

"Did I hurt you?"

"Hell no. Fuck, that feels so good..."

I poured everything into it, determined to give him the best head of his life. Completely surrendered to him. Sergio rested his hands on my head, his fingers tangling in my hair, tracing my ears, my forehead. I picked up the pace, feeling the way his body practically begged for more.

"God, this is way better than I imagined."

"I bet it beats that time you tried to fuck three water balloons."

"Shut up and keep going."

"Yes, sir."

Marta vanished from our minds completely. I worshipped him with my mouth for what felt like hours, uninterrupted by anyone walking into the bathroom. Little by little, Sergio let go. His grip on me tightened, his hips rolling into my mouth—shyly at first, then with purpose—while his sighs grew heavier, more desperate.

I was on the edge of coming just from doing it, but he couldn't seem to get enough.

"Keep going... like that... don't stop... faster," he demanded, his voice thick with need.

And I obeyed, more than happy to oblige. Until I got a little too carried away stroking myself and felt the climax rushing up on me. I stood up, turning around to unload into the toilet, giving my cock two quick pumps before the first thick rope shot out. Sergio yanked my pants and boxers down in one swift motion and pressed his hard-on right against my ass. He ground his thick length between my cheeks, massaging them with his cock while I came like a madman, shooting heavy streams of thick cum all over the closed lid and the porcelain bowl.

Before I even finished, Sergio wrapped his arms around my chest, his thumbs teasing my nipples right through my shirt. He pressed open-mouthed kisses to my neck, his cock—long, thick, and burning hot—still wedged deep between my cheeks, sliding up and down my cleft over and over again.

We stayed like that for a few minutes, his rock-hard length grinding rhythmically against my ass, his heavy breaths fanning across my ear.

"Do you want me to suck it? Want to cum in my mouth?" I asked.

"No. I'm not going to cum," he whispered.

"No? Why not?"

"Because we need to get out of here. You're going to swallow every drop of my cum, but when we have more time."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

III

It had been three days since our encounter in the bathrooms of La Muesca Alemana, and I hadn't seen Sergio since. But I couldn't get his promise out of my head—that next time, he’d let me take my time swallowing every last drop of his cum. Then again, with his constant hot-and-cold bullshit whenever it came to whatever this was between us, God only knew if he’d actually keep his word.

It was around six on a Saturday evening, and we were bored out of our minds at home. I casually suggested to Marcos that he call Marta and Sergio to see if they wanted to come over for a movie or a game of Monopoly. Marcos called Sergio's cell, and they ended up talking for about five minutes. My nerves spiked. Judging by Marcos’s half of the conversation, I couldn't figure out what the fuck they were talking about.

At one point, Marcos shot me this strange, piercing look, and my blood ran cold. My mind raced. I pictured a guilt-ridden Sergio confessing everything—explaining to my boyfriend how I’d preyed on his sexual frustration with Marta to get him off twice. How he, the poor, helpless victim, had just let me have my way with him, completely blind to the wreckage it would cause our respective partners.

When Marcos finally set the phone down on the table, his face was completely unreadable.

"Very interesting," he said, his eyes locked on mine.

"Are they coming over?" I asked, playing dumb.

"Sergio told me you went with them to La Muesca on Wednesday. You didn't mention it."

"Well... I wanted to wait..."

"Well, he already ruined the surprise and told me what you bought me, so there's no need to wait anymore." A genuine smile finally broke across his face.

I hurried to the bedroom, opened the closet, and dug through the winter blankets to pull out his gift, desperately trying to steady my racing pulse. Jesus. It was my own damn fault for asking Marcos to make the call. What the hell was I thinking?

As Marcos tore the wrapping paper off his present, I asked if we were still meeting up with them.

"Sergio said they're more in the mood for a movie. We're meeting them at the Ociplús at seven. Go jump in the shower, or we're going to be late."

At seven on the dot, we pulled into the sprawling parking lot of the entertainment complex, parking right next to Marta's car. Marta and Sergio were waiting for us, making out in the front seat.

"Sometimes I wonder how they keep that spark alive after all these years," Marcos murmured.

"I can't figure it out either," I replied, a sickening knot of jealousy twisting in my gut.

"We barely even kiss anymore," Marcos let slip.

"Maybe not out in public like them, but you can't complain about how much we've been fucking this week."

"True. You've been horny as hell the last few days. You'll have to tell me what you're taking."

We dropped it because Sergio and Marta had finally noticed us and were climbing out of the car, looking a little flushed.

On the walk to the multiplex entrance, Sergio was overly chatty with Marcos, practically ignoring me. I stuck to making idle small talk with Marta, who looked more gorgeous and radiant than ever. We bought tickets for an eight o'clock horror flick. Marcos insisted on paying since his birthday was on Monday. I knew it was just his not-so-subtle way of reminding Sergio and Marta that they still needed to get him a gift. Afterward, we ducked into one of the complex's forty different bars to grab a drink and kill time before the movie.

We had just settled at a table with two beers and a couple of mixed drinks when Sergio announced he’d left his wallet in the car.

"Anyone want to come with?" he asked, staring shamelessly right at me.

Marta, without even looking up, assumed he was asking her and flat-out refused, complaining that her killer heels were already making her feet ache.

So I stood up and followed Sergio, while my husband joked:

"Watch out, man, Luis is walking around with a permanent hard-on these days."

Once we were outside, Sergio threw his arm around my shoulders, pulling me in close.

"I missed you," he said.

"Seriously?"

"Did you doubt it?"

"Well... a little."

We walked like that, pressed together, all the way to the parking lot. I wished to God it was empty, but there was a steady stream of cars pulling in and out, along with families and couples weaving through the rows of vehicles, heading to their cars or the multiplex.

We reached our spot, and Sergio flashed a wicked smile.

"Well, look at that. Marta has the keys. More time for us."

"But we have to go back and ask her for them. What if she comes out looking for us...?"

Sergio shoved me back against the car door and pressed his body flush against mine, our cocks lining up perfectly, not giving a single fuck if anyone saw us. Then he kissed me. He forced his tongue past my lips and kissed the absolute hell out of me, rolling his hips just enough to make sure I felt his cock getting impossibly hard against my jeans.

I surrendered to that heavy, open-air kiss, still half-convinced I was dreaming. I reached up to pinch his nipples through his shirt, but he suddenly broke the kiss, pulling back.

"Fuck... you're getting me so damn hot," he groaned.

I hadn't even done anything crazy yet, but I kept my mouth shut.

"Let's go get those keys," he said, shifting his hips to adjust his cock into a better position.

The truth was, those jeans fit him like a fucking glove, putting a massive, heavy bulge on full display. Watching him, the reality of the moment finally shattered my defenses. It hit me—everything I had fantasized about for years was actually happening. Sergio was finally giving in to me, yielding with a natural ease I never would have expected. As we walked back toward the bar, I shamelessly squeezed and groped his ass while he leaned in, whispering filthy things against my ear.

A few yards from the entrance, we pulled apart. Sergio told me to go in and grab the keys myself, pointing out that his hard-on was way too obvious to walk inside. I quickly untucked my shirt, trying to drape it over my own raging erection, since I was in the exact same boat.

Inside, back at our table, Marcos was sitting alone.

"Where's Marta?" I asked, a spike of panic hitting me.

"In the bathroom."

"Oh."

"Where's Sergio?" he asked.

"At the car. Marta has the keys, so I came back to grab them."

"Did you run all the way here?"

"What?"

"You look flushed."

"Yeah, well. I hurried."

Marta came back from the restroom just then, and the second she saw me, she started digging through her purse.

"The keys, right?" she said, pulling them out and tossing them to me. "Hurry up, your beers are getting warm."

I rushed out of the bar, and Sergio immediately planted two more hard kisses on my lips, right there, barely fifteen feet from where his wife and my husband were waiting, right in the middle of a packed entertainment complex.

We headed back to the parking lot, slipped into Marta's car, and for five glorious minutes, we absolutely devoured each other. Our hands roamed frantically over each other's bodies, fueled by a blinding, overwhelming heat.

"We have to go back," I managed to say at one point, just as Sergio was unzipping my jeans, fully intent on freeing my cock.

"You're probably right," he murmured. But he pulled my cock out anyway, leaving me completely stunned as he ducked his head and took me deep into his mouth.

Every hair on my body stood on end. Sergio went to work on me, delivering a mind-blowing blowjob—honestly spectacular for a supposedly straight guy with zero experience sucking cock. I only got to enjoy that incredible head for less than a minute before Sergio decided we'd better stop and head back to the bar. But I don't think I've ever been hotter in my entire life, watching in sheer disbelief as Sergio feasted on my dick with an insatiable appetite. I never could have imagined it. It blew every fantasy I'd ever had right out of the water.

I tucked my cock away while he kept running his hands all over me. On the walk back to the bar, it hit me: Sergio was completely unhinged. If he didn't get a grip, he was going to get us into serious fucking trouble.

When we finally sat back down, Marcos and Marta were deep in an animated conversation about their jobs and barely paid us any attention. Sergio started tapping away on his phone, and a moment later, I got a text. I cursed myself for not having my phone on silent. Marcos shot me a curious look without breaking his conversation with Marta.

I opened the message. It read:

"I'm dying to get you alone. I want to suck your cock until you fill my mouth with your cum. I want to do everything to you, and I want you to do it right back to me. I'm about to fucking explode."

I instantly deleted the incriminating text and shot him a furious glare.

"Who was that?" Marcos asked, his piercing gaze locking onto me again.

"Just Movistar being annoying. Some spam text promo."

From that moment on, I tried to focus on Marta and Marcos’s conversation, but it was impossible. Sergio kept staring at me with such a ravenous hunger that I was terrified someone was going to notice.

Time dragged on agonizingly slow until it was finally time to head to the theater. Marcos pulled out his wallet to cover the drinks, but Marta placed a hand over his.

"Make Sergio pay. He always weasels out of it."

Sergio reached for his back pocket, only to realize he hadn't actually grabbed his wallet from the car.

"Someone else is gonna have to get it," he said, completely unfazed.

"You went all the way out there specifically for your wallet, and you came back without it?" Marta asked, staring at him in disbelief.

"We got to talking and I just forgot to grab it," Sergio offered as a lame excuse.

Marcos looked back and forth between the two of us, his lips pressed into a tight, hard line. I desperately wanted to say something—anything—to deflect his attention, but I knew damn well that whatever came out of my mouth would only be used against me.

"Actually, I was too busy sucking Luis's cock and swallowing his cum, so it completely slipped my mind," Sergio deadpanned.

That was all it took to diffuse the tension. Marcos muttered a dry, "You wish," while Marta punched her husband in the shoulder for being filthy and pulled out her own wallet to pay.

My legs were practically shaking as we walked out of the bar. Marcos grabbed my arm, told me he loved me, and asked me to kiss him. I think he was desperately trying to convince himself that his momentary flash of doubt had been for nothing. I kissed him, a suffocating wave of guilt washing over me, and caught Sergio watching us with a flash of disdain before he quickened his pace.

Was it actually possible that Sergio was jealous of Marcos, the same way I was jealous of Marta? Was he falling for me, too? It felt way too good to be true.

Marcos stuck to me like glue the rest of the way, and when we finally took our seats in the dark theater, he made damn sure to sit right between Sergio and me.

I knew right then that Marcos suspected something. From here on out, I was going to have to be incredibly careful. One of those lame PSAs reminding people to silence their cell phones flashed on the screen, and just as I went to power mine down, another loud text chimed in. I shut the phone off without even reading it, hyper-aware that Marcos was watching my every move.

The movie was absolute trash—packed with cheap jump scares and the same tired, recycled plot—and it ended with a whimper. Marcos had spent the entire runtime stroking my arm, holding my hand, or leaning in to kiss me. And during those agonizing hour and forty minutes, I made a choice: whatever this was with Sergio, it was over. Right then, right there, tonight. Forever. I couldn't do this to Marcos. I loved him. Sergio was just going to have to understand.

When we walked out of the theater, we all headed to the restrooms. Marcos, showing excellent judgment, didn't leave me alone with Sergio for a single second. While they stood at the urinals, bitching about how awful the movie was, I slipped into a stall and locked the door. I powered my phone back on, double-checked that it was on silent just in case, and pulled up my inbox to read the unread text.

Just as I suspected, it was Sergio again. It was like he didn't give a flying fuck if Marta caught on. She had to have seen him typing out the exact message that hit my phone three seconds later. Or maybe he just knew her better than I did, knowing she’d brush it off as just another one of his stupid jokes. I read the text:

"I'll be at the park two blocks from my place tonight at 2:30 AM. Sometimes I can't sleep and I take the dog out for a late-night walk. Don't leave me hanging."

I deleted the message. But the words were already burned into my brain.

When we got home, Marcos practically ripped my clothes off, and we fucked like animals right there in the kitchen. First, he took me hard against the fridge, pounding into me until he came with loud, ragged shouts that probably terrified the neighbors. Then it was my turn. I flipped him onto the kitchen table and fucked him, thrusting into him with everything I had, desperately trying to pound Sergio’s late-night proposition out of my head.

Afterward, we threw together some dinner and watched a movie we’d downloaded, which turned out to be a hell of a lot better than the garbage we’d seen at the theater. We finally went to bed around one-thirty.

By two o'clock, Marcos was dead to the world, but I couldn't even close my eyes. All I could picture was Sergio slipping out of his house, walking those two blocks, and stepping into the park, sitting on a bench in the dark, waiting for me. Just the thought of it had me hard and aching like a bitch in heat.

If I wanted to make it there on time without taking the car, I had to leave right fucking now. I threw on a pair of sweatpants—going commando underneath—and a loose t-shirt. I slipped on my sneakers and crept out of the bedroom, straining my ears to listen to the steady rhythm of Marcos’s breathing, terrified the pitch might change.

But Marcos didn't stir. I eased the bedroom door shut, grabbed my keys, and tiptoed toward the front door of our apartment, thanking God it was at the far end of a long hallway. I slipped out, careful not to make a single sound, and pulled the door shut with a soft click. I hit the elevator button and stood there waiting, my heart hammering in my chest.

I felt like I was fifteen again, sneaking down to the beach in the dead of night with a pair of binoculars, hoping to catch some couple fucking under a streetlight, jacking myself off into the dark whether I actually found anyone screwing or not.

Once I hit the street, I broke into a run. There was no way in hell I could just casually walk the distance. A thousand thoughts raced through my mind, but not a single one of them involved telling Sergio we needed to end this. I felt more alive than I had in years. I just wanted to get to that park and surrender completely to the pure, unadulterated lust—to finally reach heaven with the man I had loved my entire life.

And that is exactly what I did.

IV

I made it to the park five minutes before Sergio told me to be there. The night air was warm. An almost-full moon cast a pale glow over the swings sitting in the middle of a large sandbox, giving the whole playground a strange, almost alien vibe. The sprinklers were running, sweeping water across the patches of grass. I figured they were on an automatic timer. Running into a groundskeeper at this hour would be my absolute fucking luck.

The streets were dead—not a single car driving by, every window and balcony in the surrounding apartment blocks completely dark. It felt like the perfect, surreal stage for this. The exact right place for the thing I’d been waiting for since the night I first met Sergio, all those years ago at Pappy Dog.

I walked over to a water fountain and took a long drink. I’d sprinted almost the entire way from my place and was still trying to catch my breath. A frog croaked somewhere nearby. Other than that, the only sounds were the occasional chirp of a cricket and the steady hiss of the sprinklers. The only movement was up by a flickering streetlight, where two or three bats swooped and dove in the dark.

Then I caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of my eye. Someone had been sitting on the slide. They were just standing up. He’d been there since before I even arrived. I froze, my feet rooted to the spot, unsure if the dark figure was actually Sergio.

The man stepped out of the sandbox and walked toward me. When the amber glow of a nearby streetlight finally caught his face, my heart slammed against my ribs.

It was him.

He closed the distance slowly, moving with that effortless, arrogant swagger I knew so damn well, a lazy half-smile playing on his lips.

"You came," he murmured, stopping barely two feet away from me.

"I must be losing my fucking mind," I replied.

"That makes two of us."

"Where's the dog? I thought that was your cover story."

"You don't have a dog. What's your excuse?"

"I don't have one. If he wakes up, I'm a dead man."

"Then again, that makes two of us."

After that pointless back-and-forth, we just stood there, staring at each other in heavy silence.

Until Sergio finally spoke.

"I don't know exactly how the hell this happened," he said quietly. "I never thought I could feel this way about a guy."

The raw confession knocked the breath right out of my lungs.

"And... what exactly do you feel?" I dared to ask.

"Like I've been living my whole life on half a tank," he answered. "Like you had the key this whole time, and I didn't even realize it. Like we've wasted years, marrying two people who might mean a lot to us, but who aren't... everything."

His words completely disarmed me. I had fantasized about this moment countless times, but I had never been bold enough to put those exact words in Sergio's mouth. And now, here he was, just laying it all out there like it was nothing, after all these years, right when I had finally stopped expecting it.

Bullshit. Of course I was expecting it. I had been waiting for this my entire life.

"I haven't been able to get you out of my head since what happened at La Muesca, and I know damn well I'm the one who started it," Sergio continued. "So the truth is, I haven't stopped thinking about you since... that afternoon."

He stepped dangerously close. I started trembling from head to toe, feeling the heat radiating off him, feeling his breath on my skin.

"I can't stop thinking about what you woke up inside me with just your fingers and a few touches. I tried to convince myself it was just physical, because then my marriage wouldn't be in danger. But now I know it's so much more than just sex. It's the affection I've always had for you. It's how good it felt knowing you loved me, knowing there was someone out there who would give absolutely everything for me, even when I wasn't giving it back. And now I realize you know me better than I know myself. It grounds me, knowing you've always been there and that you always will be. I can feel that every single inch of your body aches to be with me, and I can finally tell you that I feel the exact same fucking way."

"Did you rehearse that speech at home?"

"Every last word."

We laughed softly in the dark.

"But... do you mean it?"

"I've never been more serious in my life, Luisito."

"So what are we going to do?"

"For starters, I can think of a few things," he murmured, opening his arms.

And I let him pull me in. I melted into his embrace, so utterly euphoric I thought I might shatter into a million pieces, or suddenly wake up alone in my bed, empty-handed and brokenhearted. But it was real. And I was acutely aware that right then, in the dark, we were forging the greatest memories of our lives.

The embrace bled into kisses before we even realized it. I was completely overwhelmed by the realization that with Sergio, I could let go completely. I could kiss him with raw, reckless abandon, holding absolutely nothing back—something I hadn't always been able to do with the other men in my life.

And Sergio kissed me with a tenderness and devotion I couldn't have imagined, his arms wrapping around me, pulling me in tight and making me feel completely safe.

When the kisses deepened and our bodies naturally strained for the next level, Sergio gently pulled back. He took my hand and led me across the sand, right up to the slide where he’d been waiting for me. And there, hidden behind it, he surprised me with two beach towels already laid out, a couple of plush pillows, and a small cooler.

"Holy shit, you set up a whole fucking picnic," I blurted out, completely stunned.

"Beer?" he asked, grinning from ear to ear, clearly thrilled that he’d pulled off the surprise.

"How long have you been out here?"

"Not that long. Marta took a little longer than usual to fall asleep tonight."

I looked at him, a sudden wave of awkwardness hitting me at the mention of his wife.

"Don't worry about it," he said softly. "We can talk about whatever we want. I don't think there are many secrets left between us anyway."

My mind flashed back to just three days ago, when he’d completely lost his shit just because I brought her up. And now, suddenly, there were no taboo subjects. I just wasn't used to this new version of Sergio yet. The sudden shift threw me off balance. Honestly, it scared me a little.

But then we sat down on the towels under the stars. We drank beer, talked shit, and I slowly started getting used to this new Sergio. Because underneath it all, he was still the exact same boy I had fallen in love with all those years ago—just a little older, and so much more dangerously attractive.

Eventually, the words faded away. We lay back, and his mouth found mine again, exploring, tasting. He bit down deliciously on my lower lip, then trailed kisses down to my chin, gently nipping at my three-day stubble. Meanwhile, my hands roamed freely over his body, finally exploring him without an ounce of fear, claiming what was now mine.

He moved down to my neck, burying his face in the crook of it. He breathed me in, his warm exhales sinking straight through to my soul. A couple of cars cruised by on the street—one of them a cop car—but it was like we had slipped into another dimension, a parallel universe built just for the two of us. Nothing else mattered. No one could touch us. We had literally stopped time.

He stripped off my t-shirt and kept working his way down my body with his tongue until he reached my nipples. He was clearly on a mission to give me just as much pleasure as I’d given him on that blessed afternoon when a stupid bet finally blew the door wide open for us. And he fucking succeeded. I writhed beneath him, completely at his mercy under his intense, watchful gaze. Every suck, every wet flick of his tongue... everything he did felt perfectly calculated to push me into a state of indescribable ecstasy. And as my body twisted with pleasure, my chest swelled with something deeper.

It was true. Everything he had said was true.

He trailed his tongue down to my navel, teasing the skin before his mouth "accidentally" brushed against the cotton of my sweatpants. He quickly discovered that right beneath the fabric, something was waiting for his lips, painfully hard and aching.

And then, he just stood up and walked away.

Leaving me sitting there looking like a total fucking idiot, high and dry with a raging hard-on.

"Where the hell are you going?" I harsh-whispered.

"To take a piss."

"To take a piss. Of course. Impeccable timing."

While Sergio took a leak, my mind drifted back to a night years ago. We were walking back from a party, and he’d wandered off to piss just like he was doing now. I had followed him, begging him to at least let me look since he wouldn't let me touch. He’d actually let me. I laughed to myself, thinking about that pathetic past version of me who could never get what he really wanted, realizing just how much luckier I was now. I had enough time to marvel at how crazy life was, and how nothing ever really happens by accident. I had time to think about all of that either because Sergio had put away a lot of beer, or because when he finished, he walked over to the water fountain and actually washed his dick.

The sight of it made me burst out laughing, but it also hit me with a sudden, overwhelming wave of affection. When he finally walked back and dropped onto his towel, I couldn't stop grinning.

"Why the fuck did you do that?"

"Because at some point between right now and sunrise, you're going to suck my massive cock, and I want it to be perfect for both of us."

"You are out of your fucking mind."

"I know."

I took advantage of him lying flat on his back and straddled him, planting my hands on either side of his shoulders. I stared down into his eyes and leaned in to kiss him. But something was clearly amusing the hell out of him. His eyes were dancing with laughter.

"What?" I asked, half-annoyed.

"I was about to give you a phenomenal blowjob."

"You lost your turn when you went to take a piss."

"I don't think so."

He shoved me, easily flipping me off him and pinning me down on my towel as he straddled my hips. He grabbed both my wrists, holding them down so I couldn't move, and dragged his tongue right up the bridge of my nose.

"Is that what you call a phenomenal blowjob?" I teased.

He shut me up with an exquisite, deep kiss. Then he let go of my right wrist to free up his hand, sat up straight, reached back, and grabbed my rock-hard cock right through the fabric of my sweatpants.

"I believe this is exactly where we left off."

"Well, we hadn't quite gotten this far."

"Nobody's perfect. Fuck. I didn't remember it being this big."

"We were crammed into Marta's car. The angle and the situation weren't exactly ideal," I defended myself.

"You should have seen the look on your face when I sucked you off in the car."

"It was honestly just a little unexpected."

Then he slid off me, moving down to my feet and settling between my legs, his eyes locked on my bulge.

"Now let's watch the Enterprise launch from the spaceport," he murmured, grabbing the cuffs of my sweatpants and pulling them down.

My erection rode the fabric down for a second before springing free, snapping up against my stomach with a heavy thud.

"Nice fucking cock, man," Sergio approved.

Hearing him admire my dick revved me up like a goddamn engine.

"Nice balls, too. I wonder if they're sensitive." He cupped them gently in his hand.

I had propped myself up on my elbows to watch him work. Every few seconds, I had to remind myself that this was actually happening—that this was Sergio, those were his hands, and those were my balls.

"What if the perfect straight guy put one of his gay best friend's balls in his mouth? What would you say to that?" he asked.

"I'd say go for it. Right fucking now."

And he did. I dropped my head back onto the towel, completely losing my mind.

"And what if the perfect straight guy sucked both of his gay best friend's balls, and then dragged his tongue down to lick right at the edge of his asshole? What would you say to that?" he asked a moment later.

Hearing him talk all that filthy shit was sending my heart rate through the roof.

"I'd say the perfect gay guy would spread his ass open with both hands," I answered, right as his tongue started tracing the exact path he’d just described.

"And what if the perfect straight guy quit fucking around, took his gay best friend's perfect cock into his mouth, and started sucking it like his life depended on it?"

"His gay best friend would buy him a beach house," I gasped. And right as I was hypothetically furnishing that beach house, the perfect straight guy took my cock deep into his mouth and started sucking like the perfect gay best friend.

Fuck, he could suck. You could tell this was all brand new to him—not because he lacked experience, which honestly didn't show at all, but because of the sheer, ravenous enthusiasm he put into it. I felt a quick flash of envy, remembering that you can never recreate your first times, and this was a genuine first time for Sergio (not counting that quick minute in the car a few hours ago).

Then I realized I was a fucking idiot for feeling jealous, because this was a first time for me, too. And it was the most important one of all: the first time Sergio was entirely mine, the first time he had confessed his feelings for me, and, holy shit, the very first cock he was taking between his lips was mine! I honestly didn't know what else I could possibly ask for.

The truth was, the guy was giving me a genuinely phenomenal blowjob with incredible skill and absolute devotion, in a park in the middle of the city, in the dead of night, on top of towels and pillows he’d brought from his own house, right next to a cooler packed with beers, sodas, and snacks. If that wasn't absolute perfection, I didn't know what the fuck was.

His hands played with my balls and my ass, a spit-slicked finger tracing the rim of my hole, while his mouth swallowed my entire shaft—that nice fucking cock, as he’d called it earlier—sliding up and down, over and over, with pure gluttony. I spread my legs wide, and he rubbed his entire fist against my hole, never once stopping the blowjob of the century.

"I want you to cum," he demanded, pulling off me for a split second. "I want you to fill my mouth with your cum."

It was exactly what he had told Marcos and Marta we were doing back in the parking lot.

"You want me to cum? Already?"

"It'll be the first of many. You'll see. Right now, I want you to pump my mouth full of your cum."

He took possession of my dick again, sucking like it was what he was born to do. I stopped holding back, letting myself be carried away by the culmination of my lifelong dream, climbing straight to the peak of my desire. He sped up his rhythm, and I felt the edge rapidly approaching. I sat up and grabbed his head between my hands. He smiled around my dick and sucked even harder. Unable to hold it in a second longer, I let out a raw shout and came right in his mouth. As the thick jets of sperm hit his tongue, his expression shifted, his eyes lighting up with a look of pure, absolute bliss.

Sergio licked his lips clean, his fingers still teasing my hole. He caught every last drop, swallowed all my cum, and then lay down beside me, pressing his cheek against mine as we both stared up at the night sky.

"Jesus Christ, I don't know why you turn me on so fucking much."

I skipped sharing my theory about first times. Instead, I said:

"It's funny how Marta hates cum, but you savor it like that."

For a second, I thought I’d fucked up. Sergio’s silence lasted just long enough to set off my internal alarms, but eventually, he spoke:

"Swallowing your load was one of the hottest fucking things I've ever done in my life. I've been out of my mind for a week, getting hard every ten minutes. My cock has never been this stiff, and there's absolutely no way to make it go down."

I reached over and wrapped my hand around it to check.

"No kidding. It's like a fucking rock."

Then he stripped completely naked, adjusted his towel, and asked me to sit up with my back resting against the bottom of the slide. He settled between my spread legs and leaned his bare back against my bare chest—just like that first day, only this time, without any clothes. I reached around and played with his nipples just like I had back then, and he shuddered. He let me touch him for a few minutes, writhing against me and biting his lip, but refusing to touch his own cock, the tip of it already tantalizingly slick with pre-cum.

Until, just like that other time, he couldn't take it anymore. He wrapped his hand around his shaft and started jerking himself off in a desperate, liberating rhythm, while I got hard all over again, my cock rubbing against the small of his back as my lips whispered pure filth right into his ear.

And Sergio came, the first brutal rope shooting all the way up to his neck. Just like that first time, he coated my hands, which were still twisting his nipples. We heard a sudden noise and glanced up to see a couple—a man and a woman—watching us from a balcony. But we didn't give a single fuck.

I licked his cum right off my fingers, and he let out a guttural moan watching me do it. I used my tongue to lap up the thick drops scattered across his chest and stomach, cleaning him off while he just lay there, completely entranced. When I finished, he crashed his mouth against mine, invading it with his tongue, kissing me over and over again like he couldn't get enough.

Then he flipped over onto all fours and looked back at me.

"You told me you'd trade a great blowjob for a good rimming. Show me what I've been missing."

Obediently, I started licking his ass cheeks, starting far away from his hole just to make him suffer. I kept throwing glances up at the balcony, noticing that the couple spying on us was getting incredibly turned on. As I slowly worked my way toward his center of pleasure—stopping to suck and lap at his balls until his legs practically gave out—I realized Sergio was still rock-hard, even though he had just come. I wrapped my hand around his cock and started jerking him off, making the man of my dreams let out heavy, ragged sighs. It got the couple on the balcony so hot that the guy already had his dick in his hand, and the woman was pulling off her blouse.

And then, finally, I dragged my tongue right across his hole. Sergio thrust his hips back against my face, desperate to feel more, and my mouth went to work, giving him a rimjob he would never forget for the rest of his life.

And we kept going. The hours flew by. We fucked, we made love, we talked, we laughed, we even sang—like two completely free souls, completely forgetting that our real lives were tied down to other people.

And at some point between that passing second and the inevitable arrival of dawn, I sucked his massive cock... and it was absolutely perfect.

V

It had been about a month since our late-night encounter in the park. And despite all the heavy shit we’d confessed to each other under the stars, I hadn't seen Sergio since.

That’s a lie. I did run into him at the supermarket about two weeks after our perfect night, but the second he spotted me, he quietly ducked down the frozen food aisle like a coward. At the time, watching him run away had actually made me smile. But now, the desperate, gnawing need to pick up exactly where we left off had wiped that smile right off my fucking face.

At first, I figured he just needed time for the panic to wear off. I was more than used to his erratic, passionate mood swings by now. I love you, I don't love you. I want to fuck you, I hate myself. The usual cycle. But the days kept dragging on, my phone stayed dead silent, and I was starting to get exhausted. I honestly didn't know if I was just tired of waiting for him, or if I was finally getting tired of loving him.

I had already made up my mind to go over there, to back him into a corner and force his hand, when Marcos dropped the bombshell.

"How long has it been since you saw Sergio?" he asked, his tone deceptively casual as he scrolled through the news online.

"It's been a while," I answered carefully, keeping my voice steady. "Why?"

"Because Marta moved back in with her parents. They're separating."

I froze. I think I took way too long to manage a weak, "Holy shit, I had no idea."

Marcos shot me a sideways glance, his face dead serious. I was already getting used to his constant suspicion. Deep down, he knew. He knew something was going on between Sergio and me. And right now, he was wondering if Sergio and Marta splitting up had anything to do with it.

I stepped up behind him and started massaging his shoulders. Marcos closed his eyes and leaned into the touch while I murmured that something like that would never happen to us. But all I could think about was that I needed to see Sergio immediately.

I called his cell that afternoon, and we had a shockingly dull, empty conversation. When I asked about Marta, he changed the subject. When I told him I wanted to see him, he gave me some vague excuse and hung up on me less than ten seconds later.

A few days later, I showed up at his house unannounced. We talked at the door. Meaning, he didn't even let me inside. I tried to push all the burning questions—what happened with Marta? What happened to all that beautiful shit you told me that night? Why haven't you called me?—but he shut me down instantly. In fact, he practically slammed the door in my face.

His cold indifference, his absolute refusal to face the consequences of his own actions, infuriated me. Every passing day, I got a little more pissed off, while simultaneously dying to see him. I started showing up at his house at all hours, though most of the time I just sat in my car watching. That’s how I figured out Marta had taken the dog, because Sergio never came out to walk it.

I also noticed Sergio had joined a gym and reconnected with some old buddies. He was hitting the bar across the street for beers about four nights a week, always with the same three guys I only knew by sight.

Then came that particular Saturday. I was parked a safe two hundred yards down the street from his front door. It was around eleven, the time he usually hit the gym on weekends, and the sun was beating down like a motherfucker. I was ready to confront him, to force him to fucking listen to me. Turning into a borderline stalker was shredding my nerves, and it had to end.

But when he walked out of his house, he wasn't carrying his gym bag. He had a massive beach towel draped over his shoulders. He climbed into his car, completely oblivious to me, and pulled away.

And I figured, fuck it. If I’ve already been parked outside his house day and night, following him to the beach isn't going to cross any new lines. I could even wait until he got in the water, lay my towel down near his—I always keep a spare in the trunk—and let him think fate just happened to throw us together.

Surely he’d be happy to see me. If I played my cards right, maybe we’d end up fucking like animals, and then I could finally wring some answers out of him.

So I tailed him, making sure to keep one or two cars between us on the road. To my surprise, we ended up driving for almost fifty minutes, which made zero sense considering we had gorgeous beaches and coves barely five minutes from his house—one of the perks of living on an island.

When he finally pulled into what looked like a campsite parking lot, I panicked for a second, terrified he’d spot me. I parked a good distance away and waited until he disappeared into the woods before getting out of my car. Honestly, I had no fucking clue where we were. Marcos and I always went to the exact same beach; I rarely bothered exploring anywhere else.

I started tailing him down a network of dirt trails winding through pine trees and thick brush, hanging far enough back that if he suddenly turned around, he wouldn't be able to recognize me. Eventually, the pines thinned out, and the trails started snaking through sand dunes. I could hear the ocean now, even though I couldn't see it yet.

At one point, Sergio veered off into the heavy underbrush, moving away from the sound of the waves, pushing through narrower, overgrown paths until he reached a sort of natural shelter. The trees had grown together to form a wide, shaded canopy, completely hidden from prying eyes—though, to be fair, we hadn't crossed paths with a single soul the entire hike.

I crept around the edge of this makeshift cabin, careful not to make a sound, until I found a slightly elevated spot where I could spy inside without being seen. Sergio was laying his towel out at the base of a thick tree trunk, clearly planning to lean back against it.

I didn't see a book in his hands. Maybe he was just planning to kill time on his phone.

I was genuinely stunned when he kicked off his sneakers, pulled off his shirt, and shoved his shorts down, stripping completely naked. He sat down on the towel, leaned his bare back against the rough bark of the tree, and immediately started fondling his cock, slowly cupping and stroking his balls until he coaxed out a brutal, rock-hard erection.

I was just starting to wonder if this was pure coincidence, or if Sergio had actually spotted me tailing him and was putting on this filthy show just for me, when I heard footsteps approaching the clearing fast.

Sergio had to have heard them too, but he didn't flinch. He just kept slowly stroking his cock, his eyes locked dead on the entrance.

Fuck. Maybe he was meeting someone. I felt like an absolute idiot and pressed myself deeper into the brush. If I got caught spying on them now, I’d die of fucking embarrassment.

The footsteps slowed as they neared the opening of the canopy. Sergio shifted his hips away from the trunk to get a better angle, spread his legs wider, and thrust his pelvis forward, putting his rock-hard cock on full display for whoever was about to walk in. You could tell the exhibitionism was turning him on like crazy.

A head poked through the entrance. It was a guy in his mid-thirties—tall, lean, and clearly a tourist. He froze, watching in absolute silence as Sergio spit a thick wad of saliva into his palm and slathered it all over his thick shaft. The tourist stood there mesmerized, groping his own bulge through his pants, not missing a single second of Sergio’s filthy display, but clearly too intimidated to actually step inside that natural little living room.

I watched them both from my hiding spot, completely concealed and hard as a fucking rock.

It suddenly hit me. Sergio hadn't arranged to meet anyone here. This was a cruising beach. The guy was coming out here just to put on a show. He had turned into a total fucking cock-tease.

I honestly didn't know if I was pissed off or not, but watching him do that right in front of a total stranger was fucking priceless.

Then, more footsteps approached. The tourist tensed up but didn't move an inch, while Sergio looked like he was in his absolute element, spitting on his cock again and stroking it with deliberate, agonizing slowness. The tourist stepped aside to let the newcomer through. It was a guy around forty, probably Spanish. He had a terrible, thick mustache and a stocky, heavy build, his shirt hanging completely unbuttoned. Judging by the look of him, I’d guess he was a cabbie or a bus driver taking a quick break.

He completely ignored the tourist and closed the distance to Sergio in three long strides. I wondered if the guy’s aggressive approach was going to piss my friend off, but once again, Sergio completely floored me. Still sitting there, he stuck his tongue out, locked eyes with the newcomer, and started jerking himself off even faster.

The cabbie dropped his pants in a split second. He was going commando. He shoved his cock—dark, thick, and heavy—right up to Sergio’s face, and Sergio dragged his tongue straight up the foreskin.

I was absolutely stunned.

The cabbie shifted to the side so Sergio could suck him off while giving the tourist at the entrance a perfect view of the action. And Sergio went to town, sucking the cabbie’s dick with a ravenous hunger, all while keeping up that slow, sensual rhythm on his own cock, keeping the tourist completely mesmerized.

The cabbie got rock-hard fast. He had a seriously impressive cock and a pair of hairy balls that were soon slapping wetly against my friend’s chin. Sergio just kept swallowing and swallowing, drooling so much that thick trails of spit were running down the corners of his mouth.

The cabbie started pinching his nipples, and Sergio completely lost his fucking mind, taking the guy's cock down his throat like an absolute animal. Meanwhile, the tourist couldn't take it anymore. He whipped out a shaved, pale-white dick and started jerking himself off, taking a timid little step toward them every now and then—a move the other two were completely oblivious to.

Sergio was deep-throating the guy like his life depended on it, speeding up the strokes on his own shaft, drooling and writhing in pure ecstasy. The cabbie was ruthlessly face-fucking him, showing zero mercy, while the tourist kept inching closer and closer. I couldn't help myself. I pulled my own cock out and started stroking it, because watching them was getting me so fucking hot I was about to explode.

It went on like that for a few minutes. Sergio was an absolute mess of spit. The cabbie pinched his nipples harder and harder, burying his thick shaft all the way down Sergio's throat, clearly realizing that the rough treatment was driving my friend absolutely wild—a fact I knew all too well.

For a second, it looked like the tourist was going to try and slide his pale dick in right next to the cabbie's, but he must have sensed the older guy wasn't exactly in the mood to share that mouth. So he settled for stepping up to Sergio's other side, slapping his cock against my friend's cheek and jerking off right next to his ear.

The cabbie started groaning, "Oh, yessss, oh, yessss," a clear sign he was right on the edge, and those raw, guttural shouts sent all of us into overdrive. He sped up his brutal face-fucking, his voice getting louder with every violent thrust, twisting Sergio's nipples while my friend turned into a deranged, mindless swallowing machine. All the while, Sergio kept taking wet slaps to the cheek from the tourist, who was now jerking off at a frantic pace.

And then, almost in perfect unison, they all came.

The cabbie started blowing his load right down Sergio's throat. After shooting two thick ropes into his mouth, he pulled out and blasted the rest all over Sergio's forehead. At the exact same time, the tourist started shooting thick, heavy ropes of cum into Sergio's ear and hair, while Sergio himself finally blew his own load all over his chest, his body convulsing with pleasure.

For a few seconds, both the cabbie and the tourist just stood there, rubbing their softening cocks all over my friend's cum-slicked face. Then, as if a switch had been flipped, they both decided they’d had enough, zipped up, and bolted in a matter of seconds.

Sergio just sat there, licking his lips, completely unaware that I was hiding in the brush and had watched the entire fucking thing.

Five minutes passed. Sergio didn't move a muscle, and neither did I. Then, finally, he stood up. Without even bothering to grab his clothes or his towel, he walked straight out of the canopy, completely naked.

I stayed exactly where I was and waited for about fifteen minutes. During that time, two other guys poked their heads through the entrance of the natural cave, spotted Sergio's towel and clothes lying there, and just kept walking.

Then Sergio reappeared, his body dripping wet. He had gone down to the beach to take a dip and wash all the cum off. I figured he was going to grab his shit and leave, but instead, he shook out his towel and laid it flat on the ground. He rolled up his shorts and shirt to make a makeshift pillow, then lay down flat on his stomach.

He stayed like that for a few minutes. I actually thought he had fallen asleep. But the second the sound of approaching footsteps started crunching over the bed of pine needles, Sergio bent his knees and hiked his ass up in the air. Not exactly a comfortable sleeping position.

A guy around my age poked his head through the opening. When he saw what was waiting for him inside, he stepped in and gave Sergio a hard smack on the ass cheek.

"Hey, you're back!"

Sergio smiled at him but didn't change his position.

"What have you been up to today?" the guy asked, dropping to his knees and tossing his beach bag to the side.

"I got my face fucked."

"Happy ending?"

"Two guys blew their loads all over my face."

"Wow. And you're still looking for action?"

"Always," Sergio murmured, hiking his ass up just a little bit higher, waiting.

The new guy, who clearly knew Sergio from previous visits, unzipped his shorts and pulled out the tip of his cock. While he started teasing his own foreskin with his fingers, he leaned in close to the ass Sergio was offering up and dragged his tongue right across his sphincter. Sergio shuddered, and I instantly started getting hard all over again.

"You went for a swim," the guy noted.

Sergio just nodded.

"Many people down there?"

"Packed."

"God, what a fucking ass."

"Thanks."

The guy went to work, giving my Sergio a rimjob I would have killed to have for myself. After licking him thoroughly, he made Sergio hike his ass up even higher and started sucking on his balls. I was about to fucking explode. Sergio, on the other hand, seemed to be enjoying it in a completely relaxed, almost peaceful way. He had this sweet, serene expression on his face.

I almost hated myself for starting him down this path. Sergio was giving himself to absolutely everyone now—everyone except me. But that bitter thought didn't kill my erection, and it sure as hell didn't stop me from jerking myself off relentlessly, not missing a single detail of what that greedy fucker was doing to him.

After sucking his balls and going back for another round on his ass, the guy told Sergio to flip over. Once Sergio was flat on his back, the guy settled between his legs and locked his lips onto his cock, which was fully at attention again. He started blowing him incredibly slowly, clearly savoring Sergio's thick shaft, weighing his balls in his hand, and occasionally sliding a finger slowly into his hole, making Sergio writhe in pure pleasure.

I didn't stick around to see how that blowjob ended. After almost half an hour, I finally gave up; my balls were aching like a motherfucker. I came in absolute silence, shooting a surprisingly massive load into the dirt, and then slipped away through the brush, trying not to make a single sound.

VI

That very same night, I showed up at Sergio's place, fully intending to set the record straight. My initial plan was to keep my mouth shut about following him to the beach, but things didn't exactly go according to plan—something I was quickly going to have to get used to when it came to him.

I knocked on his door around ten o'clock. He opened it completely butt-naked, which immediately threw me off balance.

"Hey, Luis!" he said, sounding surprisingly thrilled to see me, considering he’d been icing me out for weeks.

"You're naked."

"You coming in?"

He stepped aside, and I walked in. As I passed him, the back of my hand accidentally brushed against his cock.

"Is this how you greet all your guests now?"

"Only you. I happened to see you pull up and park. You want a drink?"

There was only one fucking thing I wanted to put my lips around right then, and it sure as hell wasn't a Coke. But I had come here to talk. So I asked for a beer and dropped onto the couch, desperately trying to keep my eyes off his heavy dick and maintain some shred of focus.

Sergio brought me the beer and sat down right across from me in his rolling desk chair. He spread his legs wide, making damn sure I had a perfect view of his heavy balls and his cock, which was already starting to get hard. It took everything I had to look him in the eye.

"We need to talk," I said, swallowing hard.

"Are you sure? Wouldn't you rather I lay this right on your tongue?" he asked, stroking his cock with a filthy, lazy rhythm.

"No," I answered, though I didn't sound convincing at all.

"You want me to put something on?"

"No, that's not necessary." I hated myself for being so fucking weak.

"Alright. I'm listening." He pulled back his foreskin, revealing a rock-hard head already slick with pre-cum. "Do you mind if I touch myself while we talk?"

"It's your house. I'm not going to tell you what to do."

"Good. So, what do you want to talk about?" he asked, thrusting his hips forward, putting his cock on display exactly like he had done at the beach for other eyes just a few hours ago.

"Exactly this."

"Sex?"

"Well... you have to admit your behavior lately has been a little strange."

"What's strange about it? I'm not doing anything I haven't already done with you."

"But you've been treating me like absolute shit all these weeks. I've tried to talk to you forty different times, and you've dodged me every single time."

"My wife left me. I was trying to process it. I didn't exactly feel like talking about it with you," he said calmly, casually fondling his balls.

"Well, your attitude has completely changed now."

"I just got over it."

"Well, it seems pretty fucking weird to me, what do you want me to say?"

He smiled. And it was a dangerous fucking smile.

Then he stood up, walked over, and pressed the thick shaft of his cock right against my nose.

I breathed in deep, filling my lungs with his raw, musky scent.

"So, you think it's strange that I'm putting my cock in your face?"

I nodded, taking the opportunity to brush the tip of my nose against the slick head of his dick.

"Do you think it's weird that I'm rubbing it against your lips?" he murmured, doing exactly that.

I nodded again, every single one of my senses completely hijacked by his heavy shaft.

He dragged his cock all over my face, tracing my eyes, my cheeks, and my forehead with that massive dick, teasing my lips with the coarse hair of his swollen balls.

"Well, I think it's strange that you aren't opening your mouth to swallow my entire cock."

Honestly, I thought so too. It was weird as fuck.

"That's what's strange," he continued, still rubbing himself against my face. "It's unnatural. Here's my cock. All you have to do is part your lips a little, and it's yours. You're dying to suck it, to take me so deep you choke on it."

I held my ground, keeping my lips pressed tight, even though I was savoring every single inch of his flesh against my skin.

"You're the one acting strange," he declared. And to my absolute misery, he sat back down in the rolling chair, depriving me of his touch, his scent, his pulse.

I was a split second away from begging him to come back and tempt me with his cock again, but I forced myself to hold back. He stared at me for a long time, that dangerous smile never leaving his face, his hand never stopping its slow rhythm on his shaft.

Finally, I forced myself to speak:

"But... do you even remember that night in the park?"

"Of course I remember. You're the one who doesn't seem to remember. That night, you didn't have any problem swallowing my cum. You sucked my cock like you were starving for it. I came in your mouth, pumped you full of my load, and then we kissed."

Everything he was saying was true, but the way he was saying it... It was like I was listening to a completely different person, not my Sergio.

"Are you bipolar or something?" I blurted out.

He laughed. A good sign, I guess.

"I'm just horny. Same as you. It turns me on seeing you sitting there, trying to play hard to get, when you're dying to give me one of your phenomenal blowjobs. It turns me on that I opened the door naked, and that I'm sitting here fondling my balls right in your face while you stammer. It turns me on to see you again. I've been dying to, but it just wasn't the right time."

"And now is the right time?"

"Well, you're here, aren't you?"

"I'm here," I admitted. "But I came to talk."

"You don't even believe that bullshit yourself," he said, standing up and planting his cock right against my mouth again.

I couldn't take it anymore. I gave the head of his dick a desperate, longing suck that tasted like absolute heaven. He thrust his hips forward and, exactly as he’d promised, filled my mouth with hot, throbbing flesh. I sucked him. I sucked his cock like it was my last day on earth, with a ravenous hunger that honestly scared me. Sergio fed me cock, and cock, and more cock, until I finally forced myself to stop and shoved him away.

He just laughed again.

"Play hard to get all you want. But you're not leaving here tonight without swallowing my cum."

I'm not leaving here tonight without talking to you, I told myself.

"I'm going to cum," he continued, his voice dropping lower. "A couple of thick ropes right on your tongue, so you can really taste it, and then I'll blast the rest all over your nose. You'll feel my thick cum sliding down to your lips. And you'll stick the tip of your tongue out to catch it."

"Today..."

"Today. Right fucking now. You're dying for it. Stop fighting it, Luis. You know it's going to happen."

"Today... I followed you to the beach."

VII

I fully expected him to lose his shit, but Sergio just smiled.

"You followed me to the beach? And what exactly did you see?"

"Everything."

"Define 'everything'."

"Your little show leaning against the tree, the guys who blew their loads all over your face, the one who ate your ass..."

"What did you think of the double penetration?"

"I didn't see that part."

"Ah, then you missed the best part. Where were you hiding?"

"Right above your head."

"Did you film it?"

That's when I finally snapped.

"Did I film it? What the fuck are you talking about? Do you even hear yourself?"

"We could be watching it together right now."

"What the hell happened to you, Sergio? What have you turned into?"

"Hey, whoa! Back the fuck up. I'm the exact same guy I've always been. The problem is you just don't know me as well as you think you do."

"I might be the person who knows you best in the entire fucking world."

"You're wrong."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

He sighed.

"Let's see how I can explain this without offending you."

The crazy part was, the entire time we were having this conversation, he was still fondling his cock and balls, maintaining a terrifyingly hard erection.

"Don't get pissed off, okay?"

"I'll try," I said, knowing damn well I was going to get pissed off, but way too intrigued to say anything else.

"I guess it's best to go all the way back to the beginning. Do you remember the night we met?"

"Do I remember it? It's not exactly something I'm ever going to forget. Actually, I recently wrote a story about that night. I posted it on an erotica site."

"How flattering."

"I didn't use your real name."

"Why not?"

"What do you mean, why not? For starters, because you're married."

"But nothing actually happened that night, right?" he asked, flashing a strange, knowing smile.

"Well, I've written a few sequels too. And you don't exactly come out looking like a saint in all of them."

"Ah... Well, you'll have to let me read them sometime. Anyway, back to my point. The night we met at Pappy Dog, I went down to the darkroom with you. You were dead set on convincing me that I should be turned on by the fact that there were guys down there getting phenomenal blowjobs. I told you I was only into chicks, and that sex between men didn't do a fucking thing for me."

I nodded, having no idea where the hell he was going with this.

"After that, we swapped numbers and went home."

"It was one of the best nights of my life. I think I fell in love with you the exact second I saw you."

He waved his hand dismissively, like my comment was completely irrelevant, and kept talking.

"When I got home and got into bed, I kept replaying everything you’d told me about guys fucking, everything I’d caught glimpses of in that darkroom, and... it got me hot as a motherfucker. I jerked off so hard, and when I finally came, I realized that for a guy who supposedly wasn't turned on by men, I had just had one of the hottest fucking wanks of my life."

"You never told me that."

He made that dismissive hand gesture again to shut me up, and I suddenly had the urge to punch him right in the fucking face.

"I was still completely hard and I couldn't stop thinking about it. So I got dressed and went back out."

"Are we still talking about the exact same night?"

"Exactly. The night we met."

"You went back out? To the gay scene?" The gears in my brain started grinding.

"I went back to Pappy Dog. By myself. But by the time I got there, it was past six and they were already closed, so I went looking for an after-hours club. I ended up walking into Punto G D Gay."

I remembered that place. It was a bear bar with a heavy BDSM vibe. It didn't even exist anymore.

"The second I walked through the door, every single guy sitting at the bar turned and stared at me. I felt incredibly, intensely desired, and I got hard instantly. And then I just froze. I didn't know if I should go to the bar to order a drink, or go to the bathroom, or look for the darkroom. Every possible option terrified me. I felt completely paralyzed. I pictured myself trying to hit on one of those guys, and panic set in. I just wanted to get my dick sucked. I needed one of those guys to suck me off, but I had no fucking clue what I was supposed to do to make it happen. My whole body was shaking. I was terrified, but I was so incredibly hot. You're not going to believe this, but suddenly, it was like my hands weren't even mine. I unzipped my jeans right there, right at the entrance of the bar. It was like I was watching it happen on a TV screen, like it wasn't even me doing it. I pulled my cock out and just stared down at it. I didn't dare look toward the bar. I didn't want to think, because if I thought about it, I might realize that public exposure—even in a gay bar—probably wasn't allowed, and they were going to throw me out, and I was going to suffer the worst fucking humiliation of my life."

"But suddenly, a pair of pants stepped into my field of vision, and a hand wrapped around my cock. My own hands grabbed this heavy-set guy by the shoulders and shoved him down, and he just let himself be pushed down. He took my cock into his mouth while every single guy in the bar watched us. I closed my eyes and just let myself enjoy it—enjoying the blowjob, and enjoying the insane situation I had somehow caused. And you have no fucking idea how this guy sucked. He was choking on my cock, taking it so deep I was actually worried he was going to hurt himself. Thick trails of spit were running down his chin; he soaked me completely. You know, one of those frantic, spasmodic blowjobs that leaves you completely weak. He sucked me off for about twenty minutes. I warned him when I was about to cum, and he just went at it harder. I came, and he swallowed my entire load without a single complaint. Afterward, like absolutely nothing had happened, I walked up to the bar and ordered a drink. I spent the rest of the night talking to the bartender, who kept telling me how fucking hot I was, how he couldn't believe it was my first time with a guy, and how nobody had the balls to pull off what I had just done. When the after-hours club closed, the bartender invited me back to his place, and I went with him. He introduced me to his man, who was asleep, and made me get into bed between them. I slept with them, and I woke up to two expert mouths licking me absolutely everywhere—from my nipples to my toes, and right up my asshole and my balls." As he said that, he weighed them in his hand. "After that, you can understand my need to explore. I went to Pappy Dog and my new friend's bar almost every single night, and I did absolutely everything with everyone. I turned out to be an insatiable stud—something I still am to this day."

"Are you making all this shit up? Are you just trying to get me hot?"

"I swear to God, it happened exactly the way I'm telling you."

"It doesn't fit you. If that's true, you've been lying to my face for years."

"That's exactly my point. You were a new friend, and I was just starting to discover new sides of my sexuality. At first, I just decided to let you keep believing what I told you that first night. Then I met Marta and started dating her, and it didn't seem like a smart idea to tell you about my hookups. And to top it all off, you fell in love with me. I couldn't sleep with you because I knew it would hurt you, because I didn't fall in love with you—I fell in love with Marta. On top of that, I started being a lot more careful about where I went to fuck so I wouldn't run into you. I knew it would crush you to see me fucking other guys when I could have been fucking you, knowing how much you loved me."

"You son of a bitch. I don't understand you."

"What don't you understand? I'll explain it to you."

"I've thrown myself at you in every possible way for years, and you played the uptight straight guy while actually being a total fucking slut? You used to call me almost crying, telling me you were going to leave Marta because she wouldn't give you a fucking blowjob, because of her phobia of cum. You told me you were sick of it because you'd never had your dick sucked in your life and cheating wasn't an option. And the whole time, you'd gotten more blowjobs than Marcos and me combined."

"I was playing a role. To you, that's who I was. So when I was with you, that's who I was. That's not lying."

"You are out of your fucking mind."

"Fine. It's lying. But we all lie, Luis. We all have a million different sides to us. We're all different people depending on who we're with."

"I'm not."

"You snuck out to the park with me while Marcos was asleep in your bed."

"That's not what we're talking about. We're talking about the fact that I thought you were my best friend. I trusted you, and you systematically lied to my face. For years."

"You're pissed off."

"Fuck yes, I'm pissed off! Every single memory I have with you is a fucking lie!"

"Don't exaggerate, Luis..."

"When you jerked off that day after I got you hot touching your nipples... do you have any idea how I felt when you kicked me out of your house right after? You made me feel dirty. You made me feel guilty for seducing you."

"Try to understand. I was confused. I had promised myself that nothing would ever happen between us, exactly so I would never have to tell you the truth about me. But the situation was just too fucking hot, and I couldn't hold back."

"And what about playing dumb in the bathrooms at La Muesca Alemana? Oh, wow, Luis! Don't tell me guys actually come to the bathroom to get their dicks sucked!"

"I'm telling you, I had to act according to who you thought I was. Just like everyone else does."

"Not everyone is a disgusting, cynical sociopath with bipolar disorder and a sex addiction."

"You're really pissed off."

The sick fuck was still hard. He was completely destroying my reality, shattering my heart into a million pieces, and he was still rock-hard. I felt so sick... so utterly broken... that I honestly don't know how I managed to swallow my pride, drop to my knees, and take his massive cock into my mouth without saying another fucking word.

VIII

The deeper I took his cock, the faster my anger melted away. Honestly, it was a fucking relief. Sergio was a degenerate, maybe even an addict, but that wasn't my fault. I hadn't opened his eyes to some new world of forbidden pleasures by seducing him; he had discovered all of that on his own, years ago.

As for the lies, Sergio actually had a point. I was a different person depending on who I was with, too. To Sergio, I was the gay best friend, hopelessly and eternally in love with him. To Marcos, I was the loving, devoted husband. And to Marta, I was the ultimate confidant. The guy who, no matter what happened, would never be crazy enough to sleep with her husband—which was exactly what I was doing right at that very second, all over again.

I was no better than Sergio. So there was no point in beating myself up over it. But there was definitely a point in sucking his fucking dick.

Besides, for some twisted reason, knowing that Sergio wasn't the innocent little angel I thought he was actually got me incredibly hot.

"Luis, believe me. You have the best mouth I've ever felt. You give a phenomenal fucking blowjob." As he said it, he reached down and pulled his balls back with both hands, forcing out a couple more inches of thick shaft just so I could choke on him exactly the way he liked.

And I did. I didn't choke, but I made room for his flesh, impaling myself on his cock, holding my breath, just reveling in the feeling of having his impressive shaft stuffing my mouth all over again. I felt him growing thicker and harder. It seemed like watching me take him so greedily was turning him on. I surrendered completely to the task, focusing only on the hot, heavy flesh pushing deep into my throat, refusing to think about anything else. I loved it when his balls slapped against my chin. It meant I was a perfect swallowing machine, especially considering the massive size he reached when he was genuinely turned on.

And with me, he was genuinely turned on—or at least, that's what I liked to tell myself. I had to tell myself that kind of shit so I could still stomach being with Sergio after everything he had done to me. And I needed to keep wanting him, because I still loved him.

"Let's take this to the bed," he said suddenly, pulling his thick shaft out of my mouth.

I tried to grab him, desperate not to be deprived of his cock for even a second. He just laughed and forced me to stand up.

"Let's go to the bed," he repeated. "We'll be more comfortable."

"I'm perfectly comfortable right here, thanks."

"Suit yourself. But I'm going to the bed."

I followed him, obviously.

He lay back, propping himself up against a pile of massive pillows, and pointed both index fingers right at his raging hard-on.

"Go ahead. Swallow."

I reminded myself that this was the bed where he fucked Marta. I wondered if he brought guys back here too, or if he kept his hookups outside the house.

"Swallow, you fucker," he urged.

I stripped my clothes off first, just to make him wait. He took the opportunity to stroke himself slowly, completely aware that I loved watching him do it. Once I was naked, I climbed onto the bed and crawled toward him on all fours, like a she-wolf, full-on Shakira style.

"You're a first-class slut," he told me, using the feminine word in Spanish.

I hated, hated, hated being referred to in the feminine. I despised those stories where some dominant guy grabs a kid, shoves his dick down his throat, and calls him a little bitch, a whore, or shit like that. But I realized that Sergio could say whatever the fuck he wanted. Absolutely anything that came out of his mouth was music to my ears.

"Come on, Luisito. Swallow my cock."

First, I dragged my tongue across his balls, and he shuddered.

"Swallow," he demanded again. The man had a one-track mind.

Then I buried my face in the crease between his right thigh and his balls, licking the sensitive skin.

"Come on, fucking swallow it," he growled.

I ran my hands up and down his legs while I sucked and licked all around his genitals.

"Swallow it already, for fuck's sake!" Sergio barked, his body writhing in pleasure. "Take my cock, you miserable fuck!"

I dragged my tongue briefly across the tip. He tried to thrust upward, chasing the friction, but I pulled back.

"I want your mouth on it. Now," he commanded.

Ignoring the order, I trailed my hand up to stroke his chest. He glared at me, dark and frustrated, yet his lips parted. The slight glimpse of his tongue was an open invitation. I leaned in and tasted him, slow and deliberate. My hand wrapped firmly around his length as I kissed him, my teeth grazing his lower lip. A heavy sigh spilled from him, straight into my mouth.

"Luisito…" he murmured.

I worked his zipper down further, and his breathing hitched. He crashed his mouth against mine—urgent, starving. As my hand stroked him, his strong fingers framed my face, gripping me tight.

"Luisito," he breathed out between heavy pants.

Suddenly, he shifted, forcing my head down toward his lap.

"I told you to take it," he ordered, his voice sharp and absolute.

He shoved my head down with ruthless precision, burying himself exactly where he wanted to be. The sheer dominance of it went straight to my head, intoxicating me.

"Take it!" he demanded. "Yeah, just like that. Now!"

I did exactly as I was told. My mouth full, barely able to breathe, but completely surrendered—utterly drunk on the heat and the closeness of him. He wouldn't stop forcing my head down, driven by a primal frenzy, grinding me against his massive cock while I struggled to take the sheer bulk of him. I gagged, feeling Sergio's control slipping, but I didn't give a fuck. I wanted more. I wanted him to impale me all the way down. Sergio eased up for a split second, pulling back just enough before burying himself even deeper into my throat. His grip on my head was brutal; it hurt, but the pain only spiked my arousal.

"Take it, fuck, take it," he demanded.

I pushed myself to the absolute limit.

"Take more, you can fit more," he insisted.

One hand kept shoving the back of my neck flush against his groin; the other wrapped around my own cock, jerking it with a rough, punishing grip.

"Take it, take it, take it," he repeated.

I lost all sense of time. All I knew was this twisted, euphoric high—I never wanted it to stop. I loved being his toy.

For a fleeting moment, I actually thought about leaving Marcos just to stay with Sergio. Not in his house, but in his bed. I wanted him to tie me up and use me, to fuck me whenever the urge hit him, to keep me locked away between sessions. For that one instant, desire pushed me completely over the edge. I was out of my mind with lust.

I swallowed, swallowed, and swallowed, choking on his cock.

"Spit on my dick," he barked.

His cock and balls were already slick with thick trails of saliva, so I didn't know why he needed more, but I spat on him like a good little whore.

"Now you're gonna find out what's good," he suddenly growled. He ripped his cock from my mouth, shoved me down with brutal force, and threw himself over me, his heavy frame crushing me completely.

For a terrifying second, the wind was knocked out of me. I thought he was going to snap one of my ribs. Then I felt his cock—absolutely monstrous against me—fighting to breach my hole, and it hit me: he was going to take me by force.

Sergio ground his hips erratically against me, completely out of his mind. A blinding flash of pain tore through me as he forced his way past my entrance. I fought with myself, desperate to make the right choice.

Finally, sanity won out. I have no idea where I found the strength, but I shoved him off me with a violent push.

"Not without a condom!" I yelled.

Sergio stared at me, completely dazed. His face was flushed dark red, the veins in his neck bulging. He didn't even look like himself. And without really knowing why, I broke down, sobbing uncontrollably. It took Sergio a moment to process what had happened, but eventually, he pulled me into a tight embrace, holding me fiercely until my sobbing finally subsided.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," he whispered into the quiet.

We lay there side by side. I could feel his cock pressing against my thigh. It was still rock hard. The guy wasn't even human. But then again, feeling my own dick getting hard just from his touch proved that I wasn't either.

"I'm married to a great guy," I said.

"I know," he replied.

"I shouldn't cheat on Marcos again. But if I do, it's going to be with a condom."

"We didn't use one in the park."

"In the park, I thought you were a guy who had been fucking the same woman for ten years and had never tasted anything else."

"I'm sorry, Luisito."

"Don't you ever lie to me again."

"I won't."

"Good. Because if you do, I'll fucking kill you."

"I'd let you."

"Bullshit."

He kissed me, trying to smooth things over, but my mind was already made up. I knew damn well I had to get the hell out of there.

"I'm leaving," I told him.

"You're not leaving."

"Yes, I am."

I got up and started hunting for my boxers around the room. He leaned back against the pillows, putting his rock-hard cock on full display.

"I'm still hard as a goddamn rock. You can't leave."

I ignored him, having just scooped my boxers off the floor.

Then he started jerking off. I tried not to look at him as I gathered the rest of my clothes. But as I grabbed my shirt, my eyes betrayed me and I looked back.

He was fondling his massive, hairy balls with one hand, while the other rubbed spit over the head of his cock. He writhed in pleasure, his dark eyes locked onto mine the entire time.

I put my shirt on. He coated the fingers of his left hand in spit, spread his legs a bit, and lifted his hips off the mattress. While his right hand kept stroking his cock, he dragged his slick fingers over his hole.

I pulled my pants on, desperately trying to hide the fact that I was fully hard again. He slipped a finger inside his hole, sliding it in and out agonizingly slow, while his right hand pumped his cock faster and faster.

I slipped my sneakers on, my eyes glued to him. Seeing he had me hooked, his pace quickened, jerking himself off with rougher, faster strokes.

Right as I was tying my laces, he started shooting his load. Sergio was a gorgeous man, but watching him come was something else entirely. I had never seen anything like it in my life. It completely scrambled my brain. I had to get the fuck out of there.

And I was dead set on never coming back.

On the walk home, I decided the only way out was to come clean to Marcos. If I told him the truth and he forgave me, I could force myself to cut Sergio out of my life for good. Sergio was too fucking dangerous for me.

I walked up the stairs, refusing to entertain any other options. Marcos needs to know. I owe him that much. Marcos needs to know.

I unlocked the door and stepped inside. Usually, I’d announce my arrival to the whole house, but I wasn't in the mood. Marcos was watching TV. He turned in his armchair to look at me, not bothering to get up.

"Where have you been?" he asked.

Something in my expression must have set off alarm bells, because he shot up from the chair and rushed over to hold me.

I buried my face in his chest, hesitation creeping in. But I had to tell him.

"Where were you? What happened?" he asked, his eyes locking onto mine, heavy with concern.

"I just came from Sergio's," I said, knowing he would understand exactly what that meant.

Marcos went completely rigid. He dropped his arms, stepping back from the embrace, and buried his face in his hands.

"I knew it. I fucking knew it."

I reached out to touch him, but he jerked away.

"I knew it," he repeated.

When he finally looked at me, his eyes were brimming with tears.

"I knew he’d tell you eventually. I was so sure he’d spill it. That son of a bitch. I don't even know how it happened, Luis. You have to believe me."

I just stared at him, completely paralyzed. My brain hadn't even begun to process what he was saying.

"I felt like absolute shit every time we hooked up, but I couldn't stop. I just kept going back for more. I don't know what it is about that guy, but he completely messed with my head. I'm so sorry, Luis. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

Marcos backed into the kitchen and started thumping his head against the refrigerator door, sobbing uncontrollably, chanting apologies like a broken record.

And then, it finally clicked. I understood exactly what Marcos was telling me.

IX

I met Sergio the following day. At a café, to keep temptation out of the equation.

I felt utterly betrayed. Not by Marcos—who, at the end of the day, had only fucked Sergio, exactly like I had—but by Sergio himself. For deceiving me for years. For telling me he loved me that night we made love in the park, only to turn around and fuck my husband without a second thought. For playing sick mind games with my feelings, with Marcos, with Marta, with the whole damn world. For being sick in the head—because what Sergio had was a sickness. But most of all, I hated him for ripping away any chance I ever had of being happy... by his side.

When I walked into the café, he was already there. And he wasn't alone, which instantly made my blood boil.

Sitting to his right was a kid, maybe twenty years old. He was wearing sunglasses indoors, and even though he gave off major fuckboy vibes, he was undeniably, devastatingly gorgeous.

To his left sat a man in his early forties with salt-and-pepper hair, broad shoulders, and an immaculate, tailored suit—looking like he’d just stepped off the set of some American legal drama. But more than anything, he radiated this overwhelming, unapologetic aura of an absolute sexual predator. It hit you like a physical wall.

"Luisito, sit down," Sergio said the moment he saw me.

I didn't appreciate him using that name in front of strangers.

Luisito made me sound fragile. Easy to control.

"I told you I needed to talk to you," I said, my voice sharp. "I assumed you'd understand I meant alone."

His companions exchanged a smirk, and it hit me—they were sharks, just like Sergio. Neither of them made the slightest move to leave.

"Come on, Luis. Don't be rude. You don't know these men. They could be my bosses, or my cousins. Hell, we could've just come from a funeral. It's not polite to just shoo people away, don't you think?"

My stomach churned. His tone left zero room for doubt: he didn't give a flying fuck about me. Sergio couldn't even begin to fathom the damage he was doing to me. Or worse—maybe he knew exactly what he was doing.

Still, I had come here for answers. This might be the final chapter of our friendship, but I wasn't walking away without the truth. So I sat down, bracing myself to have this conversation even if these two strangers refused to give us the room.

"We need to talk," I tried again.

"Let's talk. But don't you want me to introduce you to my friends first?"

I gave a tight, resigned nod.

"This one here," he said, gesturing to the younger guy, "is Daniel."

"Hey, Luisito," Daniel said.

Even though he used the pet name, there was no mockery in his tone.

"And this is Braulio. They're both heading to Barcelona in a few hours. Right now, the three of us could be fucking—hell, all four of us, if you were up for it—instead of wasting our time in a café."

The whole situation was bordering on surreal. If someone had told me this story, I would never have believed it.

"You'd rather... fuck than talk to the man who's supposed to be your best friend?"

"I'd rather fuck than do just about anything, Luisito. And honestly, it's getting a little boring how you never seem to catch on."

Now it was crystal clear: he was trying to hurt me on purpose. He was putting on a calculated, dominant show just to impress the two assholes sitting next to him. But I refused to play along.

"Fine. Like I told you on the phone, Marcos came clean last night about you two."

"What exactly about us?"

"That you fucked a couple of times."

"A couple of times?"

"When did it start?"

"A long time ago. Did you happen to mention that you fucked me too?"

I stayed dead silent, glaring at him with every ounce of hatred I could muster. I hadn't been able to tell Marcos a damn thing. I’d barely managed to get him to even look me in the eye again. Deep down, I knew that coming clean would ease his guilt, but it could also destroy our marriage for good, and I wasn't willing to take that risk. The sun was almost coming up by the time we agreed to bury the whole thing and cut Sergio out of our lives. Not only had I kept my own cheating a secret, but here I was, already breaking the one promise we had just made.

"So you didn't have the balls, Luisito. Classic."

I knew if he kept talking to me like that, I was going to smash a beer bottle over his fucking head.

"When did it start?" I repeated. "You didn't answer the question. And since when did you become such a massive prick?"

"Which question do you want me to answer first?"

"The first one."

"Fine. I think I started fucking Marcos about two years ago."

It felt like a swift kick to the balls. Two years? Sergio and Marcos had been fucking for two years?

I was suddenly forced to rewrite every single memory from the last two years. It was like one of those time-travel movies where the protagonist changes one tiny detail in the past, completely shattering the timeline and waking up in a twisted, alternate reality.

I finally understood why Marcos was always so on edge whenever the three of us hung out. It wasn't because he suspected Sergio and I were hooking up—it was because he was terrified I’d find out they were. What a fucking disaster.

"Why didn't he tell you the rest?" Sergio asked. "If he had the balls to come clean, why not go all the way? What difference does it make at that point?"

"It's complicated. Those of us who actually have feelings find it a lot harder to destroy people than you do."

"So, what exactly did he tell you?"

"That he slept with you a couple of times. I already told you."

"And he didn't mention how he tried to break it off every single time I came inside him? Or on his face, or all over his back? Only to come crawling right back to me the very next day? He didn't tell you we were fucking every single day? Honestly, I think I've fucked him more times than anyone else I've ever been with. Did he also forget to mention that he was on the verge of leaving you a dozen times, and the only reason he didn't was because I refused to leave Marta? Sounds like you two barely talked at all."

"And I think you're completely sick in the head, Sergio. And you fucking know it."

"He didn't tell you anything else?"

"What else was there to say?" I asked, entirely convinced that nothing Sergio could possibly add would be more devastating than what he had already confessed.

"For example, he could've mentioned that Marta walked out on me when she caught us—me and Marcos, your perfect fucking husband—fucking like dogs in the kitchen."

The shock completely knocked the wind out of me. Sergio grinned from ear to ear, practically glowing at the devastation his words had caused.

"Get him a drink. He's gonna need it," he told his friends. Then he got up and headed for the restroom.

I just sat there, staring blankly at the table. I didn't dare look at the two strangers; I knew damn well they were either laughing at me or pitying me.

Then Braulio, the older man with the salt-and-pepper hair, dragged his chair closer to mine and rested a heavy hand on my knee.

"Have you ever stood completely naked in a narrow hallway, with barely enough light to see where you're stepping? Surrounded, besieged, completely swallowed up by the bodies of over seventy men—all just as naked as you—grinding against every inch of you? Pressing their cocks against your ass, hands roaming everywhere, mouths kissing every part of your body? Can you even imagine what it’s like to drop to your knees in a place like that? To taste those cocks, to lick those asses, to be brushed by a sea of heavy balls? To be impaled by one cock, then another—taking them two at a time, three at a time? Having them in your mouth, deep in your guts, in your hands... everywhere, all at once? Your friend knows exactly what that’s like. He hasn't just tasted it; the experience completely broke him. Sex has entirely replaced everything else in his life. Your friend is good for absolutely nothing, except for guys like us to fuck him five times in a single afternoon—and even then, we wouldn't even scratch the surface of the dark, gaping void that replaced his soul. Don't waste another second on him. Go get your man and be happy."

While Braulio unloaded all of that on me—making me feel like I was trapped in some fever-dream Almodóvar film—the younger guy had been scribbling something on a cocktail napkin. He slid it across the table to me.

"Here's my cell and my email. If you ever need to talk to someone..."

I took the napkin, completely dazed. Then I stood up, gave them both a brief nod, and walked out of that café. I left knowing that Sergio was now nothing more than a painful memory—a chapter of my life I desperately needed to forget.

And I try. I keep trying with everything I have.

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Author's Note: If this story pushed your limits, you're ready for the rest. When I Stopped Waiting is just one of six dark, explicit M/M thrillers included in my new anthology. To read the full collection, just search for 'STAINED by Marcos Sanz' on Amazon or Everand. Grab the paperback and stain the pages. 😈

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To get in touch with the author, send them an email.

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