Chapter 3
She suddenly got serious, dropped the can on the floor, and sat up straight on the bed, looking at me with this heavier gaze, like she'd decided to cross a line we'd never really crossed before.
"And how's it been for you? You hook up with someone and then what? And the erection?"
She asked about the erection because she knew that was what tormented me the most. I had huge dysphoria about it, felt weird, wrong, exposed every time it started to grow. I'd never let anyone see it hard. Never.
"It got close, he ran his hand over it like this" — I made this awkward gesture showing the motion — "and when it started getting hard, I bolted."
She made a sad face, but thoughtful, biting the corner of her mouth like she did when she was processing something big.
"What if you show it to me?"
I looked at her stunned, trying to read her face to see if she was joking or not.
"You crazy? Drunk too much or what?" — I looked for something to throw at her, but there was only a pillow and blanket, and she was already laughing softly — "And you've seen Claudio a ton of times."
No, she hadn't seen it. I called it Claudio, yeah, I know it's fucking ridiculous, but it was the way I could talk about it without freaking out. Like giving it a silly name to make it less scary.
"I'm serious. You gotta get over this fear. Show me, see how it feels."
The idea made a weird kind of sense. With Jana, I'd feel comfortable; she'd never judged me, never laughed in my face about it. She was the only person I trusted not to turn it into a joke or disgust.
"But it's soft, right?" — I asked in this dumb way, knowing damn well the answer.
"Soft you already show, right, Rebeca? Hard, damn it!"
"And you think it's that easy? If I told you to show me your wet pussy and swollen clit, what would you do? Jerk off in front of me?"
She scrunched up her face, seeing my point hit home. She went quiet for a second, looking at the floor, then back at me.
Truth be told, we wanted to fuck. This whole road trip thing was cool and all, adventure, freedom, but deep down the hormones were screaming too loud. And now with alcohol in our veins, the beer loosening everything we'd been holding back, the cold mountain air coming in through the window, the empty house, no one to interrupt.
Worse, it gave me this crazy urge to show it off, display it hard and straight.
It's all pink and delicate, literally a girl's cock; my messed-up hormones made it pretty big, but without that brutal look of bulging veins and thickness. It feels more like a soft extension of my body, sensitive as hell, responding to everything. And I was dying for some human who wasn't me to see it for real, touch it, feel that it wasn't just in my head. The damn thing was already thickening up, growing slowly inside the tight panties, rubbing against the fabric and giving me chills.
"You know what, I'll show it!" — I said quick, but to not seem like a total perv, I played it off like one — "but you gotta show me your big pussy!"
"What's that? Some kiddie sex ed session?"
I laughed, almost not able to finish the sentence.
"Boys have penises, and girls have penises too."
And we both burst out laughing, remembering that dumb line from an old movie, the one where the Terminator was an undercover cop in a kindergarten. The laughter came out loud and nervous, easing some of the heavy air that was building.
"Sit down there."
After telling her to sit on the edge of the bed, I ran my hand under the dress. For a second I thought about backing out, pretending it was a joke, but my heart was pounding too hard and Claudio was already throbbing, begging for attention. I took off the reinforced panties, the really tight ones I wore to keep everything in place and not let the curves show when a breeze hit from the front. I unrolled them slowly from my feet, tossed them aside, and stood there with it swinging free between my legs in front of her. A nervous buzz and anxiety eating me up inside, the mountain chill prickling the skin on my thighs, but the heat rising all concentrated right there.
She was sitting, eyes glued, waiting for me to lift the dress. To break the tension, I did a little trick: gave two light twitches with the muscles and it pulsed hard, rising and falling, making a bulge in the thin fabric of the dress, shaking the cloth like it had a mind of its own.
"See? Claudio's alive?"
"You gross-out bitch, stop that..." — she said, laughing at what I'd just done.
She wasn't ashamed of me, just like I didn't have much courage, but thinking about it, we'd been friends since we were kids, had tons of intimacy for this. And she was never the type to poke around with curiosity, unlike most people who just wanna know what's between my legs. She'd never asked to see because she knows it makes me uncomfortable with that kind of talk.
Then I lifted the dress slowly, rolled the hem around my waist, and struck a totally shameless pose, swinging it half-soft so she could look all she wanted. The cock swayed back and forth, lightly tapping my inner thighs with a soft tap tap every time I moved my hips, the warm skin rubbing against my own flesh, still relaxed but with that nice heavy weight.
"Friend, is that it soft? Like, it's hard already, right?"
It wasn't. The thing has stages. When the talk turns a little dirty, it swells a bit, gets thicker and longer, but not fully hard. In my opinion, it looks even prettier like that, half-awake, the head getting more pink and full.