Chapter 9
That's when I started taking the meds, and they didn't do me any good at all. I felt apathetic about everything, like no emotion or pleasure really touched me, a constant fog in my head that wiped out everything. Sex got tangled up in that, I think because of it—the peaks of pleasure seemed to break through the anesthetic barrier the medication created, piercing the emptiness, making me feel something strong, real, even if just for a short time. I'll talk more about that later, about how the meds turned into enemies and desire became the only remedy that worked.
I went down in the elevator with my brother, laughing softly at his plan, a shy laugh that came out without me forcing it. I thought it was cute how he was lying to Dad just so I could see the guy, covering for me like that, like the big brother protecting me. I was still sore from earlier that day, a light burn between my legs that reminded me of his cock sliding in deep, fast, filling me up in a way I wanted again soon. But I was ready for another round if it happened, my body already heating up inside, pulsing quietly, even though I wasn't excited to see Fabiano again. Weird, right? The desire was for that, for the relief, not for the person. I was following my brother more for his effort, after all, him helping me, I'd help him later. He's a rascal, the kind who smiles while plotting mischief.
"So, is that it? We have an open relationship?"
I asked while pressing the ground floor button, voice low, almost whispering, the elevator descending slowly.
My own boyfriend pushing me toward other guys, who ever heard of that. Of course I was joking, and he seemed to love the joke, laughing loud, messing up my hair tied in a loose ponytail.
"Text him now and tell him to come meet you."
But it wasn't even necessary. As soon as we got to the lobby and the night breeze hit our faces, cool and damp, raising goosebumps on my fair skin under the thin t-shirt, everyone from the complex was out in the courtyard, a bigger group now, laughter echoing off the empty pool. When they saw us, it was like there was something really off about us—they glanced at each other, laughed muffled, like they knew a secret I hadn't shared. Fabiano was with the same girl hanging off him, arm around her shoulder, but when he saw me, he laughed awkwardly, trying to play it off, slowly letting her go and coming our way with hesitant steps.
I stood there, quiet, looking at him without expression, desire rising slowly in my belly, hot, even with the cold wind. My brother beside me, pretending to be casual, but I knew he was watching everything, ready to cover if needed.
"Hey, babe? You good?"
He gave me a quick kiss on the lips, and I responded like he was my boyfriend, mouth open, letting his tongue in without knowing exactly what to do with mine. His smell was still the same, night sweat mixed with cheap cologne, and his tattooed arm squeezing my waist lightly.
He pointed to the girl who'd been hanging on him earlier, still in the group, laughing at something.
"See that one there? She's just a friend, nothing going on, okay?"
I could have told him I didn't care one bit, and it was true—jealousy was something I couldn't feel, like my brain had no room for it amid the constant hunger churning in my gut. But saying it out loud would be rude, and I always avoided that. I knew he was expecting some jealousy from me, a normal girlfriend reaction, but that was something I couldn't fake.
"No, it's fine, relax..."
I said, kinda laughing awkwardly, a low sound that came out on its own, not knowing how to act right.
I'd always been crap at dealing with people, always shy, and confrontations weren't my thing because they usually ended badly for me—I'd freeze, stammer, or just disappear. Better to stay quiet, let it roll, like always.
"Let's take a walk!"
He grabbed my arm and started leading me out of the complex, hand firm on my wrist, quick steps like he knew exactly where he wanted to go. His intention was clear: as we walked, the complex got more deserted and dark, away from the pool lights and the laughing group in the background. We stopped at the end of the last building, where the tennis courts were under [[ep-11-I fucked hidden in the construction site|construction]], surrounded by old plywood fences and the smell of dust. No one seemed to go there at night, the place empty, just the distant sound of a car passing on the street outside.
He found a spot away from any eyes, between the wall and a broken post, and pinned me against the wall without asking, his whole body against mine, hand sliding up under my t-shirt, mouth back on my neck. I shouldn't have liked it—it was rough, no talk, in the dark of an abandoned spot—but I did. I liked it a lot. His weight pressing me lightly, the strong smell of sweat and cologne mixed, the hand squeezing without care, all of it made the heat rise fast between my legs, already wet, my body responding on its own.
His mouth took my neck, then his tongue came strong into my mouth, hot, invading everything. My pussy signaled right away, a strong heat rising fast, wetness already soaking my panties. His hand, while his tongue circled mine, squeezed my ass hard, pulling me against him. I felt the bulge hardening, pressing my belly over the loose shorts, throbbing against me. That kiss was starting to take my breath, the thrill of getting it on with someone there, under the open sky, even if lightly hidden by the night, was too damn good.
I grabbed his shorts, yanked them down letting his cock spring out, hard, hot, veins pulsing on the skin. I gripped it with the other hand, smiling lightly, awkward, but feeling something good in my chest. He laughed back, with a cute face, and let out low between his teeth:
"Girl, you're such a naughty one, you know that?"
"Am I?"
I replied surprised, voice low.
I took that as a compliment. I liked it. I felt good at something for the first time in a long while. Someone seeing me, calling me naughty like it was something positive, like I had value in it. Now I wanted to be even naughtier, to prove I deserved the compliment, that I could be good at this.
I glanced briefly around, looking for movement, making sure no one would see us. The complex was quiet back there, just the distant sound of the pool and the wind.
"Keep watch..."
And I got down.
I knelt slowly on the cold, dirty ground, the rough concrete scraping my knees. His cock was at face level, hot, smelling strong of night sweat mixed with cologne and something more raw, masculine. I held the base with one hand, feeling the veins pulse under the soft skin, and brought my mouth close slowly. First I just licked the head, tongue out to taste the salty, slightly bitter flavor, pre-cum dripping from the tip. It was strange, new, but good. My body responded right away, a hot throb between my legs, wet.
I opened my mouth and took the head in, sucking softly, tongue circling around slowly. He groaned low, hand going to my hair, holding the loose ponytail without pulling hard, just guiding a bit. I let him. I didn't know the rhythm exactly, so I went slow, sucking deeper little by little, feeling the cock fill my mouth, the skin moving as I went up and down. Sometimes my teeth grazed lightly, and he'd mutter a soft "easy," but I'd adjust and keep going. I licked from base to tip, slow, feeling every inch, then back to his balls, smooth, smelling stronger there, licking with the flat of my tongue.
I didn't look up. I kept my eyes half-closed, focused on the sensation: the heat in my mouth, the weight on my tongue, the salty taste filling everything, the cock pulsing against the roof of my mouth. It was good. Not because I really wanted to please him, but because it made me feel desired, useful, alive. Every low groan from him was like another compliment, filling the hole that always stayed empty. My free hand squeezed his thigh, just for support, while the other held the base, stroking slowly in the same rhythm as my mouth.
The cock got wetter with my saliva, slick, sliding in and out easier. I sped up a bit when I felt him tremble, sucking harder, tongue pressing under the head. He breathed heavy, hand tightening in my hair, hips moving lightly, pushing deeper into my mouth. I didn't gag, didn't pull back. I let it happen, quiet, passive, just feeling the heat rise through my whole body, my clit throbbing without me touching it, and my panties getting hot.
It was peace. A hot, dirty peace that wiped out the med fog, the emptiness of home, the mom's guilt. There was only that: mouth full, cock throbbing, the compliment echoing in my head, and the feeling that, at least for a few minutes, I was worth something.