The Little Bottle

He told me that maybe we could make it work. We hadn't had sex in two months.

We sat down with a bottle of rum to play Truth or Dare , like two kids.

In the first truth, he said he wanted to dress up as an aunt.
In the first truth, I said I wanted to fuck a girl.
" Well, well," he replied, and took a drink.

He went to the closet and pulled out a wig from a tacky wedding we'd attended the previous Saturday. He drained his glass and grabbed my hand. We started dancing.

It was Friday, but I didn't feel the fatigue of the shitty week. There, naked, in the interior apartment that, with the lights on, would be the spectacle of the neighborhood.

We both drank quickly, waiting for one of us to make the move. I knew he was waiting for my initiative—he always does. I led him to the bed, lay down, put my thumb in my mouth, and with my other hand began to touch myself. He stood there, fully clothed, watching the scene while he jerked off.

He lay down next to me and started fondling my tits while he watched me jerk off. He was on his side, leaning on one arm, and with his free hand, he drew the infinity symbol on my nipples. He put his fingers in my mouth and joined in the handjob. When he felt I was soaked, he flipped me over. We were spooning, and I felt his hot cock searching for my hole. He pushed at my neck so I bent over a little and entered without using his hands. He thrust hard from the first thrust and pulled me against his body by my hair. He likes to fuck me hard. I like it when he likes it.

I closed my eyes. I never fuck him when we fuck. I fuck the one who fucked me yesterday, or the day before yesterday, or last year, or the one who's never fucked me, and I can't stop thinking about how much I want him to do it. And there, as I mentally reviewed random cocks, I saw myself.

I imagined myself in chains, straps, leather, in the middle of a sea of ​​guys fucking each other, and me grabbing one of them from behind, ripping his ass with my belt. Me burning a hole in his body and his brain. And my brain, which now, in my bed, was already a different bed. Tomorrow's bed, next year's bed. Or the bed I'll repress forever. Me fucking everything, fucking powerfully, penetrating, penetrative. Me and all the holes in the world for me. And so, while he drilled me, I came.

I ended up like Judas, with a fake kiss, and went out onto the balcony, needing to smoke a cigarette naked for the whole neighborhood.

Or just for him. I never really know what I want.

— I want to break your ass someday — I said.

He put his hands to his forehead and, smiling, brushed his curlers back, like he does when he watches a Vélez game and they're losing.

" I can't fuck you, and you want to break my ass?" he replied.

—Why not? Do you want to?

He fell silent and reached for the lighter. Like in a movie, he lit the cigarette and took a deep drag, building suspense.

" I want to make you happy ," he said in a lower tone.

" I take that as a yes ," I replied, more harshly.

The next day, I walked into a sex shop near work and asked for a harness. I said it quickly, "I'm looking for a strap-on harness." The girl at the register, who had one eyebrow pierced and was reading an anime comic, looked up.

He showed me two options. I chose the more expensive one because he said the material was better and easier to put on and take off.

I got home and tried it on: first fully clothed, then in my underwear, and finally naked. My first reaction was to touch my rubber cock and look at myself in the mirror, pretending to jerk off. Sometimes I like being a man.

I left the gel on the bedside table and, when we went to bed after dinner, I said to him:

- I have it.

- The fact that?

— My cock.

He started laughing and saying no. That I'd misunderstood, that I was crazy. I suggested we introduce him.

—Who? —he asked.

— To my cock —I replied.

She kept pushing her hair back until it gave way.

— Okay, bring it.

He pulled it out of the box with a look of disgust, as if he were lifting a bunch of rotten grapes. Nervously, he asked me to put it on.

" What do you want two for?" I asked, and he put me on all fours. I didn't refuse. I heard him reach for the gel, open the cap, and spit some cold stuff on my ass. He started poking around the rim with a finger, and when he put it in, I turned to look at him.

—Me first, —he said.

I placed my hand on his groin, signaling for him to go slowly, and he began to enter. It was strange that he was inserting a rubber cock into me when his hard one was squashed between the leather straps. He gradually entered me, while I opened myself up. He placed a hand on my waist and pushed down until my head rested on the mattress. Once he had me there, he pulled out my cock and freed his own to insert it. He let out a laugh as he finished that I'd never heard from him before.

- Are you OK?

- Yeah.

— Are you sure?

- Yeah.

— Are you angry?

" You changed the rules for me ," I replied angrily.

— I got you first.

— Leave me, then.

— Do you really want to try?

- Yeah.

He hugged me. We stayed for a few minutes, me on his chest, his chin on my forehead, his breathing still labored. He stroked my hair. A kiss. Another, longer one, with tongue. His tongue harder, deeper in my mouth. His hands on my ass, mine on his. Both of us on our knees on the bed. One hand in front of me, my hand on his cock. One hand on my jaw, squeezing hard. My elbow pushing, separating us. His body coming against mine, struggling between kisses. Two bodies in bed, a struggle.

Her breathing quickens, my new moan, my fingers brushing the leather, reaching for it. Her eyes saying something I don't understand. Her body turning, her white back, her right mole. My hand descending between her lower back. Fear creeping into the shadows. Her suppressed moan, now awake. My doubts in my fingers. Her nocturnal animal panting. The rings rattling between the sheets. The sound of the buckle closing. My hand masturbating my latex sword.

Me, breaking everything I know about myself.

Us. Others.