Prostitute boy

I'm no longer a teenager. Some years have passed since the events narrated in my diary. However, the habit of writing down events that I consider important to tell remains with me. Today, I write in the notepad on my cell phone. It's safer, no one can access it without my password. Although I have no worries about anyone accessing it, my cell phone is always with me. My wife is neither jealous nor suspicious. The only thing that irritates me about her is her obsession with being a mother. Which always reveals that I am a failure for not being able to make her dream come true.

I get in my car. A popular model that I can afford with the little I earn. I'm not one to invest a lot in ostentation, I prefer to invest in satisfying my desires: a good restaurant, a handsome man, a sex professional who makes me forget the life I lead. With the air in the car on, I open the notepad on my cell phone and write something that happened to me a long time ago.

I write in my notepad:

“I was in college. I noticed that he was looking at me differently and I started to feel my heart speed up, that boy could be my first sex with a man. I looked him up and down, neither strong nor thin, he was average, thick thighs, a face with sparse hair and a naughty smile. After staring at me for a long time, he got up and went to the bathroom, looking back as if inviting me. My heart raced. Almost everyone from the university had left, we were waiting for our bus. I entered the same bathroom as him and then I saw an arm coming out of one of the doors calling me. We kissed a lot in that bathroom, that was the first of many dates we had until he married his girlfriend months before we graduated. After the wedding, I never saw him again.”

I save the text and put my phone in my pocket. And then I drive for about 20 minutes until I meet the guy I spoke to that afternoon. The sun is already setting, night will come soon. And I already told my wife that I would be late, which happens often. He was beautiful, he didn't disappoint. It was even more beautiful than the photo on the website. I felt renewed after experiencing your body. It was my first time with him, but it wasn't my first time with a prostitute. I like to invest in my pleasure. Sex with my wife is not bad. However, I prefer a man's touch.

I lost track of time, I've been there for more than two hours. I'm very late. I get up quickly, gathering my clothes scattered on the floor. First I pick up the shirt thrown over the arm of the sofa, then the pants on the rug. I look around the sofa, under the bed and can't find my underwear. I was about to ask Willian if he knew where he was, when he turned around:

- You want your underwear, come and get it – Willian said, twirling the underwear around his index finger.

- Throw those underwear here, you know my time is up – I respond, showing that I don't like the joke.

Willian immediately frowned and pulled the sheet over his naked body, hiding his excitement. I know he was just doing his job, trying to please his client. However, I was already satisfied with everything he had offered me. Now, I just needed to get home and be a good husband to my wife.

- I'm on my way. – I said goodbye with an attempted kiss, a peck, which was unsuccessful because Willian removed his face – we already talked about this, I'm married – I said leaving through the apartment door, looking from one side to the other in order not to be visa. It's nonsense, no one there cared who entered that apartment, there were many people there.

Finding himself alone in his apartment, Willian took the money left on the bedside table and placed it in a glass jar, inside his wardrobe. Still completely naked, he went to the refrigerator and took out the bottle and drank a glass of water. The best part of the day, I was finally alone. He went to the bathroom, turned on the shower and put on his funk playlist on his cell phone. I needed that good, long shower.

When picking up the soap, Willian found a ring and put it on his finger, so as not to lose it. The owner of the ring would certainly appear at his door after the wife noticed the absence of the jewel on her husband's finger:

- “oh, stupid women, married to gays and don't realize” he thought while looking at the ring on his finger.

I head home, hurriedly. “I need to get the smell of cheap soap off me” I suddenly think. Close to home, on the same street, I stop the car at a bar and order a shot of whiskey without ice. “The smell of wisk is strong and will mask the other smells on my body” I conclude. As I drink my drink, I delete any trace of my cell phone that could incriminate me. It was like a ritual, no one found it strange, because I was a journalist and was constantly writing and deleting things from my cell phone, tablet, notebook . Not even my wife found it strange:

- One more drink, Mr. João – asked the bartender.

I look at myself in the bar mirror, the thick beard, the eyes of someone who needed a rest, I was only 30 years old. But I knew that the “sir” coming from the bartender who was the same age as me was a form of respect:

– No, thank you – I reply and take the money out of my wallet, put it on the counter and leave the bar.

I'm never so late getting home. I was so enchanted by Willian's beauty and ease in bed, that I didn't even notice the time passing. Now, I was there in a bar, wondering how I was going to get home. My wife would certainly be very angry and would demand a good explanation for all the delay. What would I say to her? There was nowhere to run, I needed to face that problem more.

I have to go back home, face Sandra's wrath, I didn't even know why she was angry anymore, every day she had a new reason to fight. It was like that since we were still dating at university. We were studying journalism and it was during a discussion that I met Sandra, when she almost broke a colleague's face for unknown reasons. I broke up the fight and we became friends, then boyfriends and now husband and wife.

I arrive calmly, knock on the door, no one answers. Again, Sandra had changed the lock on the door. If it weren't for the promotion I expected at the newspaper, I would definitely ask for a divorce, but becoming editor-in-chief of the newspaper is a huge leap in my career. And that certainly wouldn't happen if I asked for a separation, my father-in-law wouldn't promote me, on the contrary, it was definitely dismissal.

- I need to hold on! – I think.

breath and knock on the door again. She opens the door without saying anything and lets me in. I don't say anything, I scratch my beard, worried, the silence was much worse than the scandal. However, there was no way to anticipate what would happen, the only way was to go in and pay to see. And that's what I did. Whatever the reason for the fight, whatever the insults, I would listen quietly, I had already decided. After all, I was the only one to blame there.

I wouldn't listen just because I felt guilty. In fact, I didn't feel guilty about having sex with other men, I was just following my instincts, my desires. And in my sexual relations with call boys, no one loses out. I have never mistreated my wife for being “gay” and I believe everyone knows when a man or woman is gay. The difference is that there are people who don't have the courage to face reality. Yes, I accept everything and that's why I remained silent, waiting for Sandra to explode.