Horror Story: "I Went Home With A Stranger — And His Abuela Walked In On Us!"

Horror Story: "I Went Home With A Stranger — And His Abuela Walked In On Us!"

He grabbed me by the hand, pulled me in, and whispered, “Let’s go to my place.”

I was having a terrible time at my ex-boyfriend’s birthday party at China Club in New York City, so the sexy invite from a handsome stranger felt good. His name was "Gil", and I couldn't help but be turned on by his full head of dark hair, hazel eyes, and goatee. Despite our primal attraction, I suggested we take things slow and head to a local bar instead.

We didn’t last long at the bar.

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Gil quickly reminded me that we'd met before. We lived in the same neighborhood, and we partied in the same local Latin clubs.

“I asked you to dance salsa, and you said no,” he recalled.

“But you were really bad at salsa,” I retorted, joking.

Despite my previous rejection, our chemistry was explosive. Though he was laid on the Rico Suave act pretty thick, I ended up at his place an hour later. He opened the door to his tiny apartment. It was pitch black, so he used the light on his cell phone to guide the way. Why wouldn’t he just turn on the light? I wondered. Maybe his place is messy, and he’s embarrassed.

His room was the size of a bathroom. His bed was twin-sized. This is NYC, so I thought nothing of his junior accommodations. We started messing around — kissing, necking, dry humping. Gil got hard. It felt good to turn him on so quickly, but I was still conflicted. Am I really doing this? I questioned myself. My panties came off. Yes, I was definitely doing this. 

We began having sex, and it felt really good. It was my first time having sex with a man I'd just met. Sure, we shared a salsa dance, a few laughs and a drink or two, but I didn’t even know his relationship status. I’m trying something new, I convinced myself. For a moment, I felt liberated.

He moaned, and said, “You’re pussy feels so good.”

Then, I heard a bang. Bang, bang, bang! Wait, is that a caldero?

“Sucia! Vete de mi casa!” a woman shrieked from behind Gil’s door.

“Oh, shit!” Gil cried, as he scrambled and pulled out. He jumped out of bed, and I strained my neck to look back from missionary. There she was — an abuelita with a headscarf, holding a frying pan and a ladle.

“Oh my God!” I screamed, jumping to my feet and covering my naked body.

Quien es esta, Gil! Vete de mi casa, sucia!” his abuelita yelled. Gil rushed her out, soothing her as he said, “Don’t worry...she’s nobody...she’s going home…”

Yes, I was a nobody in his eyes. A feeling of shame, embarrassment and guilt engulfed me. “I have to go,” I whispered, rushing out the door and stubbing my toe on a floor plant on my way out.

I knew then that one-night-stands weren't right for me — especially when the guy lives with his abuela.

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