Chapter 28
I was so damn happy, really fucking happy. I'd made a new friend! Val. Someone who knew my secret and didn't run away, didn't call me dirty, didn't tell a soul. She even invited me to hang out, do stuff that normal people do. It was a big deal for me. Me, who could barely string two sentences together without feeling like I was in the way, had managed to swap numbers, texts, laughs. I'd managed to be seen.
But there was something that kept it from being all good.
The massive horniness building between my legs like it had a mind of its own. You know when you gotta pee so bad, and the closer you get to the bathroom, the worse it gets? That's what it was. The closer I got to home, to locking myself in my room, the more my body throbbed and soaked. My swollen clit rubbing against the seam of my loose jeans, my panties sticking to my skin, the heat rising up my belly with every step. I wanted to give in. I wanted to touch myself. I wanted to cum until I forgot there was a world out there.
And then there was Lucas.
He was walking beside me, backpack slung over his shoulder, talking about the project like it was the most important thing in the world. I glanced at him from the corner of my eye and thought: if he made the slightest move, if he brushed against me by accident, if he looked down and saw I was breathing different... I'd be naked in a second. I'd have him fuck me right there, on the living room couch, on my bed, on the floor if I had to. I remembered Gustavo, that day on the stairs, how I'd dropped to my knees without a second thought. If Lucas gave the slightest sign, I'd do the same. Or worse.
But he wasn't interested in me. He talked about the project, the computer, his girlfriend who nagged too much. I nodded, smiled faintly, but inside the emptiness grew right along with the lust. He didn't see. No one did.
We left class together. We grabbed a snack near my place — a soggy fried snack and warm soda — and got to my apartment. He noticed right away that I was alone. Jonathan had gone to Mom's, and Dad was still traveling. The house empty, quiet, smelling of the disinfectant Dad left before he took off. Lucas looked around, a little awkward.
"Your parents aren't home?"
"Dad's traveling, my brother's at Mom's," I replied, trying to sound casual while my heart pounded in my throat.
He nodded, but I saw his look shift a bit. It wasn't desire, just curiosity, maybe discomfort. But for me, it was enough to imagine everything. I pictured him pinning me against the hallway wall, hand under my shirt, squeezing my small tits. I pictured me spreading my legs on the kitchen table, letting him slide in deep, no effort on my part, just taking it. I pictured his cum inside me, hot and sticky, and then the emptiness that always followed.
But he didn't do anything. Just asked where the computer was.
I texted Jonathan quick, before he got there:
"I'm with a high school friend doing a project. If Mom asks, say I'm with friends praying or whatever."
He replied with a "lol sure thing" and a thumbs-up emoji. He always covered for me.
Lucas sat in the chair at my desk, opened his laptop with that serious look he always had when talking school. I stood behind him, real close, close enough to feel the heat from his body rising and mixing with mine. I looked at the screen over his shoulder, but I wasn't seeing shit. My whole body was pulsing. The lust wouldn't go away. It just kept building and throbbing hard between my legs, my clit screaming with every deeper breath. I didn't know if I wanted him to notice or if I wanted him to keep pretending he didn't. Maybe both.
He was focused. Talked about how to make the project better, what to research, typed fast, paused to explain some research thing. In the breaks, he talked about his girlfriend — how she nagged too much, how they fought over stupid shit, how she didn't get his games. I nodded, murmured a "really?", but my head was miles away. The emptiness in my chest mixing with the fire down below. My body begging for relief. Begging for touch.
Without thinking too much, I slipped my right hand inside my jeans. Slow. The loose fabric made it easy. My panties were already soaked, clinging to my skin. I ran my fingers over my swollen clit, right over the panties, and started circling slow. Light and rhythmic. Each circle sent a hot wave up my belly, making my small tits tingle under the baggy shirt. I bit my lower lip to keep any sound from escaping. My breathing got short, hot, through my open mouth. He kept typing, talking low about research sources, without turning. He didn't notice, or pretended not to. I didn't know.
I upped the pressure. Slid my fingers down, feeling the wet entrance through the thin fabric. The panties stuck, slippery. I pressed harder, rubbing my clit in slow circles, then faster, then slow again. My hips moved on their own, just a little, pushing against my hand. My outer lips swelled, the wetness seeping through the panties, dampening the insides of my thighs. The pleasure built lazy, hot, centered right there in the middle. I squeezed harder, circled faster, feeling my whole body gearing up, my thigh muscles trembling, my belly clenching slow.
He stopped talking for a second. Turned his head slightly, like he'd sensed something.
I mustered my courage. My voice came out low, husky, almost a whisper:
"Lucas... would you cheat on your girlfriend?"
He froze. Turned the chair a bit, looking at me over his shoulder, but without seeing where my hand was. He was shocked by the question, but it was his favorite topic, talking about his girlfriend. So he launched into an automatic monologue — "I don't know, it depends, she's cool but sometimes... I think not, like, I like her, but if a situation came up..." — words tumbling out in a row, like he needed to convince himself.