Bringing a Guy Into the House

Chapter 5

I know, you thought that was too abrupt, right? I know it was. It was for me too. The words just burst out of me, no filter, straight from the gut. I've never been a saint, but I'd never said anything like that out loud before. It was all bottled up inside, repressed, waiting for the right moment to come spilling out all at once.

Ever since I was little, I heard that almost everything a woman did was sinful. That our very existence was evil, a temptation that dragged men into sin. That's why I had to dress all covered up, couldn't swear, couldn't sit with my legs spread or laugh too loud. My mom drilled it into me over and over, like I was carrying some dangerous weapon between my legs. And yet, I was kinda fascinated by that supposed power I had. But I always thought I was so plain, so average, too skinny, nothing eye-catching. How could I have power over anyone when I didn't even want myself in the mirror?

All that was swirling in my head while Fabiano talked, trying to make small talk about anything: the garage, the heat, his buddies. And not once did I feel scared he'd reject me, laugh in my face, and go blab to everyone else. It wouldn't change my shitty life anyway. I was tired of hiding, tired of pretending I didn't feel that hunger all the time for something.

So I just let it out. Blunt. Direct.

"You wanna fuck me?"

I kept staring at him, barely blinking, my heart pounding so hard I thought he could hear it. The afternoon breeze seemed to vanish all at once. His friends in the back had stopped laughing, like they sensed something had shifted.

Fabiano cut off mid-sentence. His bright smile faded slowly, his eyes dropping quick down my body—baggy jeans shorts, old t-shirt, beat-up flip-flops—and back to my face. He didn't laugh. Didn't turn away. Just looked at me, like he was trying to figure out if I'd really said it or if he'd misheard. Or maybe sizing up if I was worth fucking.

The answer took forever. So long that I felt the heat between my legs throb harder, wet, urgent. He licked his lips, stepped closer, voice low now, just for me.

"Right now? Just like this? Out of nowhere?"

"Yeah, you want to or not?"

I didn't wait for more. I turned and headed for the elevator, not looking back. I felt him behind me, quiet steps following, his presence silent like a shadow. What was I thinking? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. It was just peace, a warm, deep peace I only knew from those solo hours in my room. Like my whole body was under some strong drug, an adrenaline rush that tingled everything from my toes to my head, but no fear, no anxiety. Just calm.

I didn't think about the danger of bringing a stranger home. Or that my brother might hear everything that went down in my room. None of that crossed my mind. And there was a bigger detail: sex was still just theory for me. I knew the basics from hidden videos, school gossip, enough to get what happened and swear I'd never do it. But now the desire had grown so much, turned into an addiction that wouldn't quit, a hunger that squeezed me all day and only eased with touch. I needed it, any way I could get it.

The elevator doors opened. I stepped in, he followed. The tight space, mirrors on the walls showing us both: me; him tall, tattooed, smelling good.

The doors closed.

The building was quiet, dim lights in the afternoon hallway. He didn't wait long, eager, ignoring the cameras and pinning me against the elevator wall, firm hand on my hip, mouth on my neck, licking, nipping lightly. I didn't know what to do with his mouth there, didn't try to kiss, didn't even know how. Just turned my face to the side, let him do it. Didn't hug him, didn't touch him, didn't take off clothes. His hands slid up under my t-shirt, squeezing the skin of my belly, fingers brushing my nipples that hardened without me wanting them to.

I took a deep breath, eyes half-closed, staring at the mirror without really focusing. Didn't know what to do with my hands, with anything, so I did nothing. Stayed still, quiet, just letting it happen. And the more he did it all himself, the more a good feeling grew inside me, slow, hot, spreading from my belly to my thighs. It was like every squeeze, every lick eased something that hurt all day without me noticing, that quiet hunger that never stopped. The warmth rose soft, calming my tight chest, leaving me limp, light, like the emptiness I carried faded a bit. It was good. So good. Better than alone, because I didn't have to move, search, make any effort. Just receive, let him take what he wanted, and the pleasure came pure, filling everything without me needing to do more. My body responded on its own, getting wet, pulsing low, and I just felt that peace grow, wrapping me up whole, like right there, standing still, I was finally in the right place.

"Come here! You okay?" he looked around like he was about to do something really wrong. "You're not autistic, are you?"

I looked at him and let a light laugh slip out, one of those awkward ones with barely any sound. He must think I'm really weird. I'd let him grope me in the elevator without reacting much, without pushing away, without pulling him in, just standing there letting it happen. I was nervous, heart beating steady, not sure what to do with my hands or my body. I figured once we got to the room I'd relax more, feel more in my element. Beyond that, I wasn't thinking much. Just feeling that heat that kept building.

I opened the apartment door slow. My brother was on the couch, controller in hand, eyes glued to the TV playing video games. When he saw us, surprise hit his face like a big exclamation point. Mouth half-open, eyebrow raised. He didn't say a word, just looked from me to Fabiano and back.

"We're going to my room, okay? Knock if you need anything."

I said it trying to sound normal, voice low, like this happened every day. My brother had never heard me talk about any guy, let alone bring one home holding hands.

Fabiano tried to chat with him, polite, asking what he was playing, but I didn't want to wait anymore. The impatience rose hot in my belly, that hunger squeezing everything. I grabbed his arm and pulled him down the hall, went into the room first, him behind. Turned the key in the door with a soft click.

I turned to him, leaned my back against the door, looked straight at him with the dirtiest expression I could muster—eyes heavy, mouth half-open, like saying "So, what's it gonna be?" I didn't say anything. Just waited, quiet, my body already hot, already ready, wanting him to do it all right then, without me asking more, without me moving much at all. Just receive.

Before anything, he glanced around my room, like he was taking quick inventory. The place was new to me too; I'd moved in with Dad after the divorce, so the furniture was basic apartment stuff, big bed, white wardrobe, simple desk, white walls without posters, without photos, without anything really mine. It lacked stuff, all empty, lifeless, like how I felt most of the time.

But there was a good bed, wide, clean sheets.

He took a step toward me, pulled me by the waist with both hands and kissed me. I just went with it, mouth open, letting him lead. His tongue came eager, fast, diving deep into my mouth without waiting, licking everything, swirling clumsy, like he wanted to devour me right away. Saliva mixing, his heavy breath on my face, scent of cologne. I didn't know what to do with my tongue, so I kept it still at first, just feeling him invade, suck, nip lightly at my lower lip.

Then something shifted inside me. I grabbed his ass with both hands, firm, pulling his body against mine, pressing my hips to his, almost wrapping my leg around his thigh to stick closer. The heat between my legs pulsed hard, already wet, and I just wanted him to keep doing everything, not stop, use it soon. I didn't talk, didn't moan loud, just squeezed harder, letting him feel I wanted it, but without moving much more than that.

I pulled away from the kiss—hot, but dragging on too long. I wanted the next level now. Locked eyes with him, no blinking, and slowly took it all off: t-shirt over my head, jeans shorts and panties sliding down together, dropping to the floor. Stood there naked, skinny body, small tits, pale skin, not covering up, just still, quiet and hairy, waiting for him to handle the rest.