Erotic short story writer (bisexual). My stories center around female characters and their pleasure. Let's reclaim our pussies!
- What do you want to do now? – he asked me. - I don’t know, we’ve already exhausted all my ideas – I replied. We had played a video game and a board game, we had watched a movie, we’d done an online workout tutorial, we’d gone shopping, we’d baked and we’d video called our families. We’d even gotten round to do a bit of work.
To all the people I hate(d)
A few weeks ago I was going to take part in a documentary about women´s rage. For the documentary I had to record a personal interview where I was asked how I was raised regarding my rage: was I taught to acknowledge and express it or to ignore it and suppress it. That part was no problem. In fact, it was fun because I don’t have much of a filter and I learnt more about how I view women’s rage through my answers.
How to explain a city that is a feeling? Where do you start? I guess starting with one of its natives is as good of a beginning as any. I was born in Madrid and I lived there for 20 years, the first 20 years of my life. The city shaped me, but I thought I was oh-so independent from it. No attachment to the city I was born in or the place I went to school. To the winding streets of its city centre or the massive parks, new and old, the city’s struggle against the dry heat in summer and the dry cold in winter.
Sing me to bed
The lights turned on and illuminated the stage. It was of modest size, she wasn’t a superstar (yet). But it was still packed with people excitedly waiting for her to go on stage. I had queued for most of the afternoon, something quite uncommon in my city. Usually, people were more rational about the whole concert thing and waited at home until 30 minutes before the show started. But this time it was different. She was different. Anyone could tell that she was a star in the making and wanted to listen to her live while she still performed in cosy and cheap venues.
Why do sex shops always have to look so... dark and cringy? It's like we are still in the 70s or something. They make me feel dirty just by stepping inside - I said while we crossed the door into one of them.
The corridor was endless, or at least it seemed like it to her. The appointment had been set for five o’clock and thinking that she would easily find her way to the office, she had taken her sweet time with the coffee. Now it was ten past and she still hadn't found it.
A Little Bit More Than Just Yoga
I had been going to yoga class for a few months. My life was proving to be super stressful and I needed something to relax and make me feel like I was at least trying to look after myself. I loved the class: I left full of energy but relaxed each time and feeling at peace with myself. I had made a few friends with whom I sometimes went to a bar after the class. One of the recurring topics we talked about on those nights was the affair we were 100% sure the yoga instructor and a personal trainer were having. He used to come at the same time each session to train with his customer right in front of our transparent walls. We were sure he stayed for a few hours afterward too, just with a different company. We spotted the looks they shot each other when he passed by our room when only the glass walls and their duties as gym employees separated them. We also saw that he stayed waiting by the lockers when we were all filing down the hallway to shower and go back home. Our class was the last of the day, so we were always debating if they just directly went to one of their apartments, or if they would have dinner together first if their neighbors would hear them...
I was nervous. Well, I was shitting my pants, to tell you the truth. I had been thinking of a nipple piercing for some time now, but of course, I had done a search on YouTube and seeing the people scream with pain had dissuaded me. Until now. One day, God knows why, you have to have the piercing done, and no one can persuade you otherwise. So, you go and do it.