Tuesday, May 19, 2015
1:40 PM
It was right after school. I scarfed down lunch, barely tasting it, and headed up to my room with my body already buzzing with anticipation. Isabella was still in class, Matthews holed up in his room, probably glued to some game or screen, and the staff moved through the house like quiet shadows, busy with their usual chores. My parents were at work. The two-story place felt empty, but the silence was just surface-level. Inside, I was a total mess: heart pounding uneven in my chest, ribs vibrating with every thump, thoughts all jumbled into one big clusterfuck.
I stepped into the bathroom and cranked on the shower. The hot water hit hard, almost scalding, and I let it wrap around me completely. The spray pounded my shoulders first, slid heavy down my spine, cascaded over my back in steamy waves that made me let out a long sigh. Rivulets trickled between my tits, curved around my belly, ran down my inner thighs in slow, burning streams, warming my skin until every drop felt like a living caress. I closed my eyes and surrendered to the thick steam rising up, filling the air with lavender soap and hot dampness. My right hand drifted down slow, almost hesitant at first, until it found my pussy already swollen, sensitive, slick before I even touched it.
I started rubbing myself right there, under the rhythmic beat of the water on my back. My fingers slipped between the lips, pressing the clit with the soft pad, slow circular motions that built the pleasure in tight layers: first a hot tingle in my gut, then a deep clench in my inner muscles, an insistent throb that spread through my thighs, up my neck, making my nipples harden against the humid air. My breathing got short, choppy, hot air filling my lungs as I pictured the scene ahead: Rodrigo touching me with that sweet patience of his, his fingers exploring slow, his hot mouth on my neck, the weight of his body closing in. And Diego there, leaning against the wall, dark eyes locked on me, breathing heavy, cock hard in his hand, watching every shiver, every moan, without being able to touch.
The thought set me on fire. The heat between my legs turned to liquid fire, my flesh pulsing against my own fingers, wet in a way that dripped down my thighs mixed with the shower water. A knot twisted in my stomach at the same time—raw fear, worry that it all might go to shit, that I'd regret it—but the desire was stronger, louder. I wanted it. Wanted to feel a man penetrate me for the first time, open me up slow, fill me completely, lose that virginity I still carried in my head like some symbolic seal, a milestone. It wasn't just the hymen. It was giving myself body and soul, looking into someone's eyes and knowing he was there, present, wanting me not as a toy, but as a whole woman.
I sped up my fingers without realizing. Pressed harder on my clit, two fingers sliding inside, feeling the inner walls clench in hungry spasms. The pleasure built fast, almost violent: a wave rising from deep in my belly, squeezing my abs, making my legs shake, knees buckle. I slapped my left palm against the cold tile wall to keep from falling. The water hammered my back, hot and steady, as the orgasm ripped through me in long, deep contractions. I let out a hoarse moan that echoed in the stall, my whole body convulsing, inner muscles gripping my fingers like they wanted to hold the pleasure forever.
I came hard.
And I stood there for a few seconds, panting, heart hammering in my temples, thighs soaked with water and my own juices, skin goosebumped despite the heat. I stepped out of the shower with my legs still wobbly, body light and yet charged with an electricity that wouldn't fade. I knew if everything went as planned, that afternoon would end a long wait and start something I couldn't even name yet. But the desire already burned low, insistent, telling me I was ready. More than ready.
But not just any way. Deep down, I still dreamed that doing "it" would only make sense with someone who truly loved me.
In practice, I hadn't been a virgin for a long time. I'd done oral with pleasure, feeling the cock throb in my mouth, the salty taste on my tongue. I'd done anal, feeling the slow pressure turn into intense pleasure. All that was left was vaginal penetration. What they call losing your virginity, like it's a seal or a rite of passage.
For me, it was never just about the hymen. It was about giving myself completely, body and soul. Looking into someone's eyes and seeing he was there, present, wanting all of Rafaella, not just the body.
And as crazy as it sounds, I still dreamed that someone would be Diego. Even though he was selfish, rough, a total player. Even though he used me without showing anything but raw lust. I fantasized that one day he'd really look at me, touch me with tenderness mixed in the desire, claim me as a woman, even if just for an afternoon.
I stepped out of the shower with my body still warm, legs shaky. I slipped on just a black thong, one of my favorites—the thin fabric hugging my skin, brushing lightly with every step.
My heart was already pounding hard in my chest when I stopped in front of the bedroom mirror. I looked at my reflection: just in the black thong, the fine lace stuck to my warm skin, nipples already hard poking through the cool room air. I took a deep breath, feeling the air heavy in my lungs.
"I'm ready," I whispered to myself, voice coming out husky, almost trembling with anticipation.
I grabbed my phone with fingers slightly damp from sweat. I called Diego. When he picked up, my voice came out low, loaded:
"Come over. I'm already in the room. Just come right in."
The wait for him to arrive lasted seconds, but felt like forever. My belly was already pulsing, a slow insistent heat spreading through my thighs, making the thong stick even more to my swollen lips.
The door opened. He stopped in the doorway. His gaze hit me like an invisible hand. It roamed slow over my tits, down my belly, stopped at the tiny lace that barely covered anything. The air got thicker. My clit throbbed hard just from that look. It was like he was touching me without laying a finger.
"Fuck... you're teasing me, huh?" his voice came out rough, a low growl that vibrated in my chest.
He slammed the door shut. The sound echoed. He came at me fast, hands eager, big body invading my space. His scent—sweat, strong cologne, and pure horniness—wrapped around me. When he tried to grab me, I shoved his chest with both open palms. I felt the hard muscles under my hands, his heart beating almost as fast as mine.
"Hold up, Diego. Chill. Rodrigo's on his way."
He stopped. Let out a short, cocky laugh, but took a step back. And just stared at me. That predator look: eyes half-shut, mouth parted, like he was deciding where to start devouring me. He didn't even blink. I could feel him eating up every inch of my exposed skin with his eyes. And that... that lit me up inside.
A shiver ran from my neck down to the base of my spine. My nipples got even harder, almost aching they were so sensitive. A liquid heat slid slow between my legs, soaking the thong completely. I loved it. Loved being the target of that raw desire, being fucked just with his gaze. My body reacted on its own: breathing speeding up, thighs clenching instinctively, chasing friction that wasn't there.
To be continued...