All characters in this story are over 18 years of age.
Just a reminder that my sister is away on a business trip for a week.
The next morning, I woke up too early. The light hadn't yet penetrated the curtains, and the room was in semi-darkness. At first, I didn't know what had disturbed my sleep—maybe a movement, maybe a sound. Maybe it was just that my body was still living that night.
I closed my eyes and then it all came back. Images. Voices. My body.
His moans. Quiet, broken, full of surprise and desire. The way his fingers dug into my shoulders as he entered me slowly, carefully, as if each thrust revealed a new version of himself. His muscles tensing under my hands, the warmth that surrounded me. The sigh when he entered me completely. The throaty moan when he came, without touch, from pure emotion.
It wasn't sex. It was something more. Something that crossed the boundaries of curiosity or impulse. And that's what scared me the most. Not because I regretted it. But because I didn't know what to do next.
I felt a familiar tension in my lower abdomen. Just the memory of holding him in my arms, of him trembling beneath me, was enough to make me want more.
I heard the sound of water being poured in the kitchen. Alex. The memory of the previous night spread through my body like a wave of heat.
I left the room in a T-shirt and shorts, barely composed. He was standing by the coffee machine, still in the same sweatshirt, but with his hair tousled. He looked... different. Calmer. And tense at the same time.
“Hey,” he said, not turning around.
“Hey.”
A moment of silence, only the hum of the machine. Finally, he handed me a mug without even looking me in the eye.
“Did you sleep well?”
“You?”
He shrugged and lifted the corner of his mouth.
“Actually... surprisingly, yes.”
We sat down in the living room. The TV was off. I could feel his presence almost physically, every movement, every breath. I waited. Finally, he spoke first.
“You know...” he began slowly. ”I don't know how to say this.”
I looked at him. He was staring at his cup as if looking for answers there.
“You don't have to say anything if you don't want to.”
“But I want to,” he interrupted. ‘Yesterday was... weird. I mean... unexpected. But also...’ He looked up. ”Attractive.”
I froze.
“Attractive?”
“Yes. Don't pretend you haven't felt the tension between us for a long time.”
I was silent. Because he was right.
“I thought it would be awkward. But it wasn't. It was... damn good. And real.”
I felt my throat tighten.
“Alex, but your...”
“I know. I know, Matt. And I don't know what to do about it. But I can't pretend it didn't happen either. Or that I don't want more.”
I was speechless. He looked at me seriously.
“And that's why...” he continued, more slowly. ”I'd like to... try something different. Turn the tables.
I furrowed my brow, unsure if I understood him correctly.
“What?”
“I want... you to be the dominant one this time. I want me to... try to give myself to you. Like you did to me before.”
I froze. He wasn't smiling. This wasn't a joke. He was completely serious.
“You want... me to...?”
“Yes. And I want to do it for real. But this time without rushing. Without uncertainty. I want to feel you. All of you.”
There was silence until he finally got up and walked slowly towards me.
“If you agree... I'd like to start by showing you how much you turn me on.”
His hands stopped at my hip. He looked into my eyes. He waited.
“Only if you want to,” he added.
I was breathing unevenly. The whole situation was absurd... and yet, when I felt the warmth of his hand, something inside me spilled out. Something I no longer wanted to suppress.
I looked into his eyes.
“Yes,” I whispered. ”I want this.”
He leaned toward me and kissed me slowly, carefully. His hand moved down my thigh, then wrapped around me gently. I felt my body react immediately.
“I'd like you to... feel me. Really feel me. There.”
For a second, I just stared, trying to make sense of his words.
“You want me to...?”
He nodded.
“Yes.
He knelt in front of me and his hands slowly moved along my thighs. He started with a kiss—quiet, soft. Then he touched me with his tongue, timidly, as if trying the taste. He moved nervously for a moment, but his determination quickly overcame his uncertainty.
“Tell me if I'm doing something wrong,“ he mumbled between movements.
“You're doing everything right,” I moaned, leaning against his shoulders.
Alex took my penis into his mouth, clumsily but with commitment. He had never done this before—that was obvious—but he made up for it with enthusiasm. His tongue moved along the shaft, gently, exploringly. Then he took me all in, slowly, deeply.
When he pulled away, his lips were moist, his cheeks flushed, and his eyes full of something raw—desire, courage, maybe even pride.
“Now you,” he said quietly, his voice trembling slightly. ”I want you to feel me.”
He lay down on his stomach, lifting his hips slightly. I moved closer, placing my hand on his back, then on his buttocks. I spread him carefully. His body was tense, but he didn't pull away. He waited.
I started with gentle kisses, his spine, the small of his back, until I finally reached his entrance. I brushed it with my tongue, lightly at first, then more boldly. He sighed—quietly, deeply, as if he had been holding his breath all night.
I licked him slowly, rhythmically, feeling him tremble, his muscles tensing and relaxing with every movement. He was open. Ready. And incredibly aroused.
“Matt...” he moaned. ”I want you inside me. Please.”
I lifted myself up, leaning over him. I kissed his neck, wrapping my arms tightly around him. Guiding myself with my hand, I pressed myself against his entrance.
I slid in slowly, inch by inch, feeling his body accept me. He was tight, hot. Alex moaned low and deep, his hands clenching the sheet.
“Easy,” I whispered. ”If something's wrong, tell me.”
“No... it's fine. I can feel you. Every inch of you.”
I started to move, slowly, rhythmically. Each thrust deepened our closeness, pushing the boundaries of who we were to each other just a day ago. Alex was breathing heavily, his body trembling with my movements, and his moans... were like music.
“Matt... harder,” he whispered.
I sped up, thrusting deeper, more decisively. I held him tight, kissing his neck, his shoulders, his back. He was all mine — devoted, trembling, real.
At one point, he let out a throaty moan, his body tensing and shaking. He came without touch, just from me being inside him, from us moving in the same rhythm.
I felt that I was close too. I pressed myself against him one last time, hard, deep, and spilled myself inside him with a heavy sigh. I froze, then wrapped my arms around him, resting my head on his neck.
We lay there for a moment, silent, exhausted, surprised at how much it had connected us.
“That was...” he whispered.
“I know.”
“And I want more. Maybe not now. But again. Again and again.”
I smiled, kissing him gently on the shoulder.
“Me too.”
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