Chapter 7
I've always found it interesting when an immature guy cums too soon, the way he desperately tries to explain the reason for what he thinks is his failure. Like him, I've seen plenty of others in the same spot later on. For me, I was just glad I'd made someone cum; it made me feel desired, even back then. I was woman enough to get the biology of bodies and know that all it took was waiting a bit for the horniness to come back.
He got all embarrassed, face turning red, eyes dodging mine, and started babbling nonstop, tripping over nervous words. He came up with fake commitments on the spot, said his dad was about to get home, that his mom wanted to see him hitting the books hard for college entrance exams as soon as he walked in the door—anything to justify bolting out quick.
While he got dressed, I just sat there on the bed, legs crossed over the rumpled sheets, everything inside me leaking out onto the mattress. And I gotta admit, feeling that was kinda intriguing—the slow drip of warm fluids down through my pussy, something primal, sexual, that lit me up even more inside, like my body was reminding itself it wanted more.
"It was really good, I loved it," he stammered nervously, all awkward, pulling on his shirt any which way and heading for the door, signaling he was really leaving.
"When can we do it again?"
He looked at me shocked, freezing mid-step, probably thinking I'd never wanna see him again after his flop.
"I don't know... For me, whenever you want."
"How about later today, when you're free?"
For me, he didn't even need to leave. I wanted more of it right then, wanted to keep going, wanted him to come back and finish the unfinished job, to fill up that warm peace again that had started so good and stopped halfway. My body was still pulsing low, wet, anxious, like nothing had ended.
I walked him to the front door, moving slow down the hallway, my body still hot and loose inside. He leaned in for a quick goodbye kiss, mouth on mine, tongue trying to slip in again, but that embarrassed me big time, a weird tightness in my chest, like it didn't fit with what had just happened. My brother in the living room, pretending to play video games, eyes glued to the TV, but I knew he was tuned in to us.
When the door clicked shut softly, I was already thinking about heading back to my room and finishing the job solo, touching myself till I came for real. That's when my brother decided to pipe up.
"You got a boyfriend now, huh?"
It was more of a statement than a question, voice dripping with sarcastic mockery, like he knew it all and I was the idiot. Right then, blood rushed to my face, a terrible shame burning my ears, chest tightening, hands going cold and sweaty. I wanted to vanish, evaporate right there.
"Shut up, kid!"
I said it low, voice shaking a little, trying to sound mad but coming out weak. My brother paused the game, turned to me with that hateful look, trying to hold back a laugh that shook his shoulders.
"Look, I could hear everything from here!"
The embarrassment hit harder, face on fire, legs going weak like they might give out. I just wanted to disappear, sink into the floor, anything to not face it. And I asked without wanting to ask, to confirm what I already knew, like it would change something.
"You heard everything?"
"Everything," he answered, face like he knew too much, sly grin. "The walls are way too thin."
I bolted to my room, feet pounding the floor, heart racing with shame, not looking back. No clue what exactly he'd heard—the low moans from Fabiano? The sound of thighs slapping? My total silence? But I was grown, and my brother was a teen; he knew what sex was, obviously. But he was my brother, right? How awful, embarrassing, the thought spinning in my head like a weight.
I got to my room, slammed the door without locking it right, yanked off my panties before even lying down, letting them drop to the floor. I threw myself on the bed on my back, legs spread, body still pulsing inside, hot, unfinished. The shame mixed with the desire that hadn't left, my hand already sliding slow between my legs, touching the wetness, ready to finish what Fabiano had started.
At my first touch, it all lit up again in my memory. I remembered the heat of his skin rubbing against mine, the weight of his body on top, his strong hand pressing me against him, making me feel small, protected in a twisted way, like I was just an object for him to use—and that, for some reason, made me calm, filled. The times I'd tried to move a little, just on instinct, and he'd hold me pinned there, hand on my hip or back, keeping me in place, not letting me participate much. His cock sliding in hard, strong, hitting deep in spots I didn't even know existed, lighting everything up inside, waves rising through my belly, my tits, my legs, leaving me wired, alive, no emptiness at all for those seconds.
Suddenly my mind wandered, and I pictured my brother behind the door listening to it all. Right away, I remembered some weird stuff at home: my panties shifting on the clothesline with no one touching them, or disappearing for a few days and showing up again washed. And the looks my brother gave me when I walked around the apartment in just panties and bra, getting ready to go out. He'd always point out my pubes peeking a bit below the panties, laugh and call me dirty or bushy. I'd stay quiet, embarrassed, but keep it to myself.
My therapist said it didn't mean anything bad, just a teenage boy figuring out body differences, curious about female dynamics, exploring what he saw at home 'cause he had no other place. Not necessarily lust for me specifically, just normal age confusion. I believed him, or tried to. But there, touching myself with the fresh memory of Fabiano, the thought came anyway, mixing shame with a weird unease I didn't wanna name. My hand paused for a second between my legs, body still hot, but my head spinning. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and started touching slow again, pushing the thought away. The pleasure came back, quiet, filling me up again. That's what mattered. The rest I'd deal with later, or never.
But what if he's listening to me again right now behind the door? The idea hit quick, like a whisper, while my hand was already sliding between my legs, fingers finding my swollen clit, wet from what was left of Fabiano and my body responding on its own. Am I gonna get paranoid about this? Honestly, I didn't care much if he heard—the soft sound of fingers circling slow, slippery, my breathing getting deeper, the sheet shifting a bit as my thighs spread wider without me telling them to. But he was my brother, right? A teen, too curious, and I didn't know if it'd mess with his head, screw up something it shouldn't.
The thought passed, but it didn't stop my hand. I squeezed my clit harder between thumb and finger, circling firm, slow at first, feeling it pulse hot, sensitive after everything. It felt good. So damn good. The heat rose quiet from my belly to my small tits that tingled, to my feet clenching on the mattress. I slid my middle finger in slow, feeling the warm remnants leaking out, then two fingers, spreading a bit, hitting deep at the spot that lit everything up inside. I moved just enough to feel the wet friction, imagining some cock using me again, hard, without me having to do any work.
My hand picked up speed little by little, fingers sliding in and out faster now, thumb rolling on my clit with the right pressure, slippery, throbbing. The pleasure built deep, filling the emptiness that had come back after he left, waves rising up my back, prickling my skin all over, leaving me limp, calm. I didn't moan loud, just breathed harder through my nose, eyes shut, my whole body relaxing in that peace only this could give, not thinking about my brother, the door, nothing but the heat building, building.
It hit quick, intense. My belly clenched hard, thighs shaking, body locking up for a second before pulsing everything inside, strong waves that left me dizzy, cumming quiet, fingers pressed deep feeling every contraction, my clit throbbing under my thumb. I lay there after, hand still touching, wet, feeling the last tremors, body light, truly satisfied for the first time that day.
If he heard, he heard. I wasn't gonna stop because of it. The desire calmed a bit, but I already knew it'd come back soon.
It always did.