Chapter 12

I'd been lying there in that dump for about twenty minutes, legs spread wide, waiting for a miracle. Was it good? Kinda. But something was missing. It didn't have that grip, that force, that desperate need to make me cum. It just stayed... nice. And that wore me out. My pussy was starting to go numb, and I knew it wasn't gonna happen.

"Matheus, can we stop?"

He stopped moving right away, his dick still hard, and looked at me with that "what the fuck?" face.

"Fuck, is it bad? Why can't you cum?"

The answer was right on the tip of my tongue: "Because there's no real man here for that." But I held back. I didn't want to humiliate the poor guy; it wasn't his fault. Sure, I wanted to cum buckets, but not with him.

"I don't know, man... I think I froze up. Got nervous. Can we stop, please?"

He huffed, rolled his eyes. Of course he'd blame me; the blame was always on the woman. But honestly, it wasn't even his fault either. Some guys just aren't born for the job.

I sat up, embarrassed, and that's when I discovered an uncomfortable truth: taking clothes off is always easier than putting them back on. Everything scattered around the room, me trying to get dressed fast while feeling his eyes glued to me. It bugged me. Felt weird. The guy was still hard, wanting more, and I was turning him down. I knew I had to get out of there before my stepdad or his brother showed up.

Finally, after fixing everything, I said goodbye with a long, hot kiss. He didn't deserve to be left hanging.

"Can we pick this up another time?" he asked, hopeful.

I smiled.

"Sure!"

I squeezed his dick over his pants and left.

On the bus ride home, I did some mental accounting. Less than ten days ago, I was a poor innocent who'd never done anything in her life. And now? I'd kissed a woman, sucked two pussies, two cocks. From pure maiden to a full-on slut.

But... what kind of slut was still a virgin and had never cum?

The question hammered in my head, like my soul was trying to figure out what the hell was happening to me. Some astrological alignment? An identity crisis? Who knows.

I opened my horoscope on my phone, looking for some cosmic explanation. Nothing but "take care of your health" and "avoid excesses." I laughed to myself on the bus.

"Getting knocked up or knocked out now would be a total mindfuck!" I thought, biting my lips to hold back the laugh.

Definitely, the universe was messing with me, or my menstrual cycle was out of whack. Lately, when it came to sex, I was all over the place.

Sitting there on the bus, I still felt a heat pulsing between my legs. Even after cleaning up, I was wet, a light, insistent tingle. When I squeezed my thighs and gave a little rub, an electric current shot straight to my nipples, giving me goosebumps. And to make it worse, this totally hot guy decided to stand right in front of me.

The jerk was showing off, had to be. The bus almost empty, plenty of seats free, and there he was, holding the rail, forcing me to look at him.

Skinny but buff, older than me, way older. You could tell he wasn't the type who usually took the bus. Tight t-shirt, chain around his neck, and some shorts that seemed made to torture me. The bulge there was blatant, indecent. I could see the outline clear as day, even tell which way he packed his cock.

And I was staring. Staring without being able to stop.

That's when he caught me.

My body froze on the spot. But pretending to be casual, I kept staring off into nothing, like I was just lost in thought. I think I played it off okay... I think.

Or maybe not, because when I mustered the courage to look again, there he was: smiling at me.

My stomach flipped, my heart raced. I got nervous. Smiled back, that awkward "good afternoon" smile, not wanting to seem too open.

The problem was, I wanted to.

"Hey, everything good? Can you tell me where to get off for Geraldo's shop? I left my car there and I'm heading to pick it up."

"I asked you about your fucking car, you asshole?" I thought, rolling my eyes inside. I always hated people who show off, especially over dumb shit. Guys love throwing a car into the conversation thinking it'll open doors; it'd work better if he just adjusted that package in front of me!

"I'm getting off there too, just get off with me," I replied curtly, not giving much opening.

I'd seen my share of bus creeps from afar. Red flag waving, but... those shorts said maybe he made up for it, and he was cute! I laughed to myself, bit my lips, playing it cool.

"What's your name?" he pressed.

"Julia..."

"So, Julia, can I get your number?"

"We're getting off at this stop." I stood up, ignoring the question.

Sure, I wanted to ride him, but I had to play hard to get, act all difficult. The game had to be played right. He followed without arguing, and we got off the bus together. I stayed quiet. I was close to home, and the neighbors loved to snoop. Everyone watched me there. Had to be careful.

"It's that way." I pointed toward the shop and turned my back, already heading out.

"You forgot to give me your number!" he called after me.

I rolled my eyes but stopped.

"Why do you want my number?"

"I don't know, to chat, get to know each other, that's it. If you don't like it, you can just block me."

The bastard was not only hot and yummy, but he had game. A way of talking that caught me off guard, broke me down. I realized I was smiling.

Shit.

I dropped the act and gave him my number.

Now it was just a matter of waiting for him to call.

Damn... I forgot to ask his name.