Chapter 37

On Thursday morning, I dragged myself down to the kitchen with my face all scrunched up and my pussy still buzzing from the night before. Mariana had already left — her prep course was far out, she had to take two buses to get there, and she was still dealing with cramps. Poor thing. She got up earlier than me and slipped out without saying goodbye so she wouldn't wake me.

In the kitchen, everything was set up: day-old bread, fresh coffee, and… the jerk.
Sitting at the table like he owned the damn place. My mom's young stud.

He was younger than her, but old enough to be my dad no problem. Tall guy, flat gut, white teeth, that vibe of someone who goes for morning walks and buys supplements with English names on them. And my mom? She was stunning, like she had a deal with the devil or slept in formaldehyde, for sure. Everyone thought they were gorgeous.

Except me.

He kept staring at me when I was in my sleep clothes, and I went and gave him ideas, and it got worse when he caught me fingering myself in my room.

And me?

Stupid, stupid, stupid. I went and egged him on. Played with fire. Now he wouldn't leave me alone.

I walked into the kitchen in old shorts and no bra, and the son of a bitch already tossed out his little quip:

"Good morning, sunshine."

I pretended not to hear. I grabbed the mug with so much attitude it could've been butter for the bread.

"Good morning." I spat the words like it cost me to talk to him.

He didn't even try to hide it. He looked me up and down like he was eating me with his eyes.

"Your boyfriend's really coming over today?"

I froze with my hand in the margarine jar and glanced at him over my shoulder.

"You can't even wait for me to have my coffee before you start busting my balls?"

He flashed that smirk that made me want to throw hot coffee in his face.

"I haven't talked to him yet, it's still early. And please, I'm asking again, don't hassle the poor guy."

He didn't blink. He just stirred his spoon in his glass and dropped it like bait:

"No worries… but you make a deal with me?"

I stopped mid-sip. I eyed him sideways, already suspicious.

"Spit it out. What's the deal?"

"You send me a pic of you… and I'll be the coolest guy in the world. I'll even talk your mom into letting him sleep over, if you want."

"A photo? What photo?" It came out automatic. My tone was suspicious, but deep down I knew.

He gave me that sleazy look guys do.

"The kind of photo I sent you."

Son of a bitch.

The image hit me right away. That damn photo he'd sent me once. Hard cock, gripped in his hand, with the window light hitting it like some divine artwork. What did I do when I saw the photo? I liked it. Liked the fucking photo.

And now he was back, asking for payback.

I tried to stay serious. I swear. But my face gave me away, and I let out a crooked laugh, that laugh that only comes out when your pussy twitches.

I'm such a slut.

He got under my skin, but I liked it. His harassment turned me on. I could say it was gross, that it was wrong — and it was — but the way he looked at me sometimes undid me. Like he could see right through my clothes.

"I'll think about it." I said, biting my lip without realizing.

He smiled like he'd won. And I went on with my day.

The day was hectic, and I got home wiped out. I swapped some texts with the guy, and the poor sap was on his way all excited to my trap without a clue, thinking he'd be alone with me. I was still kinda pissed about his lame attitude on the boyfriend story, but what could I do? My mom would start griping if he didn't show up at the house soon.

He was due around eight. Still over an hour to go, so I headed straight for the shower. I stripped down and gave myself the usual once-over in the mirror. I was hairy down there. Diana had said to let it grow a bit before waxing, but holy shit… it looked rough.

I sat on the toilet with the towel on my back and, I don't know why, started thinking about my stepdad's thing. Curiosity hit: was that photo still on my phone?

I scrolled through the gallery to the hidden folder. That's where I kept my secrets. It was turning into a whole collection of cocks. There was Matheus's, one of Pedro's that I took myself, and at the end… his.

I laughed at my own sluttiness, double-checked the door lock, put down the toilet lid, and sat, spreading my legs with a dumb grin on my face.

I propped the phone against my thigh again and opened the photo. The screen glowing, that absurd cock right there, veiny, throbbing. I trailed the tip of my finger along my thigh, sliding up, brushing lightly, like my body already knew the way.

The first touch on my clit made me sigh. I was soaked. Slid easy. My whole body shivered, like it'd been waiting for this since the photo showed up.

I closed my eyes.

In my head, he was there. Standing, leaning against the bathroom door, holding that huge dick pointed at me, smiling like he knew exactly what he was doing. Looking at me with that lustful stare he always gives when he sees me in sleep clothes. Me, sitting there, legs spread for him without any shame.

In the fantasy, I said:

"That thing ain't fitting in me, no way."

And he smirked from the corner of his mouth.

"It will. It's going in all the way."

And just imagining that cock trying to push into me, forcing its way, making my pussy stretch to the limit, my body shook. The feeling of being split open slow, feeling every inch force its path inside me. Pleasure mixed with pain. Fear mixed with desire.

I pressed my finger harder, slipping inside, one finger. Then two.

My mind was gone. He was holding me by the waist, pushing in slow, telling me to relax, that he'd get it all in, that he'd teach me to take it. And I'd say it wouldn't fit, that it'd tear me. And that… that drove me completely wild.

I shifted better on the toilet lid, spreading my legs wider, rubbing firm. The wet sounds got me even hotter. Every time my finger slid over my clit, I saw flashes of his cockhead trying to force in, that stretched skin, that fat dick dominating me.

I started moaning soft. Those moans you let out when you're alone and don't have to fake anything.

I touched myself faster, feeling my whole body tense up. The bathroom mirror fogged, my chest heaving, skin hot. And the thought locked in: it won't fit… won't fit… won't fit… and still, I wanted to try shoving it all in. And of course, it would slide right in easy.

The orgasm hit hard, shaking me, like I'd cum out the full weight of that dirty fantasy stuck in my head. I sat there still, panting, feeling the sweat trickle slow between my tits, hearing only my own heartbeat pounding in the bathroom.

When I opened my eyes, the screen was still there. The cock shining, hard, wanting me.

I looked at the photo again and laughed at my own handiwork. Imagining what people would think if they knew what went through my head. That's when I decided.

I adjusted the phone camera, still with my hairy pussy all slick, spread it as wide as I could with my fingers — no shame — and snapped the photo. One shot, crystal clear.

Didn't think twice.

Attached it to the message. Hit send.

I laughed. A nervous laugh, the kind that comes when you know you've fucked up…

I'm such a bitch, I came thinking of my mom's boyfriend — and then sent him the photo.

And the worst?

I was starting to get obsessed with the idea that his cock would fit in me.
All of it. To the hilt.