Hot steam still hung in the bathroom as I dried my hair with a towel.
Drops of water ran down my chest and stomach to my hips, where the towel was wrapped tightly, barely staying in place.
Suddenly, there was a loud, violent knock on the door.
I froze.
I wasn't expecting anyone at this hour.
My heart beat faster as I moved toward the door, still dripping wet, wearing only a towel.
I opened the door... and there stood Mike.
His hair was tousled, his cheeks flushed with emotion, his breathing heavy and rapid.
For a second, his gaze slid over my naked body, my chest, my stomach, the droplets of water running down, before he quickly looked away, as if caught red-handed.
“Mike?” I asked, feeling a knot of anxiety in my stomach. “What happened?”
He didn't answer.
He strode inside, passing me as if he couldn't stand still.
The door slammed behind us, and his tension filled the room, weighing me down with a heaviness I didn't yet understand.
I stood there in my towel, wet, looking at him in silence.
I knew one thing: whatever had happened was bigger than a simple argument.
Mike sat down heavily on the couch, as if he had suddenly lost all his strength.
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and ran his trembling hands through his hair.
He was silent for a moment, breathing heavily, and I stood there in my towel, unsure if I should say anything.
“Mike...” I whispered cautiously. “Say something.”
He looked up at me and finally the words burst out of him chaotically, as if he had been holding them in for too long.
“She made dinner,” he said, his voice a mixture of frustration and shame. “Wine, candles... everything was perfect.”
His breathing quickened with each sentence.
“She tried to kiss me, touch me... and I felt like I was somewhere else.” He shook his head, clenching his fingers even tighter in his hair. “Like... it wasn't my life.”
I stood paralyzed, my heart pounding in my chest, not interrupting him.
“I told her I was tired,” he added bitterly. “She probably thinks I rejected her.”
Sparks of anger appeared in his eyes, but also fear.
He raised his head, his voice trembling as he spoke the next words:
“I don't know what's wrong with me, Matt...”
“But I couldn't stay there.” He took a deep, ragged breath. “I had to... come here.”
Then he fell silent, avoiding my gaze, as if afraid of the truth he had just spoken, which I had sensed long ago.
I took a slow step toward him. My wet hair stuck to the back of my neck, and drops of water ran down my chest and stomach. Mike looked away, as if avoiding eye contact, but I could see his jaw tighten.
“Maybe...” I whispered, calmly, almost softly, “it's because you can be yourself here.”
He blinked as if he didn't understand.
“With her, you play a role,” I added, standing right in front of him, so close that I could feel his rapid breathing on my skin. “But with me... you don't have to.”
His shoulders twitched, but he remained silent.
The silence was thick as smoke, saturated with emotions neither of us could name.
I slowly ran my hand over his chest, through the thin fabric of his shirt, down, lower and lower, until I stopped at his belt.
Mike gasped sharply, as if my touch were an electric shock to him.
“Matt...” he whispered hoarsely, sounding more like a plea than a warning. “I... I don't know if this is right. I don't want to... screw this up.”
I could feel his body reacting against his words under my fingertips.
His pants were tight where his hardening cock was clearly pressing against the fabric.
It was no accident.
I leaned in closer, so that our foreheads were almost touching.
“You don't have to say anything,” I whispered provocatively. “Your cock is speaking for you right now.”
Mike closed his eyes, letting out a low, broken sound that could have been either despair or desire.
I could see him struggling with himself.
This was his limit.
I straightened up slowly, confidently, without taking my eyes off his face.
I reached into the drawer of the table next to us and took out a condom, then placed it in his hand.
“We won't screw this up,” I said firmly, my voice confident. “It might even make us stronger.”
His fingers clenched around the wrapper as if it were an anchor in the chaos he was feeling.
He looked at me with something that was both fear and desperation.
“You don't have to say anything,” I repeated quietly, almost like an order. “Just show me what you really want.”
That broke his resistance.
Mike stood up abruptly, grabbing me by the neck and kissing me as if he wanted to swallow me whole.
His shirt slipped off his shoulders in a rush, and I unbuttoned his pants, feeling him tremble with tension.
My towel fell to the floor as his hands cupped my ass, squeezing it tightly, as if he was finally allowing himself what he wanted.
Our kisses became passionate, desperate, hungry.
Mike pushed me onto the bed, I fell onto my stomach, giving myself completely to the moment, and he stood over me, naked, his eyes burning with a fire that left no room for doubt.
Mike knelt over me, naked, his body tense as a string.
I heard the rustle of the packaging as he opened the condom, and then a quiet sigh as he put it on.
His breathing was heavy and hurried, as if he was afraid that if he stopped, he would lose his courage.
I felt his hands on my hips, strong and decisive.
Slowly, carefully, he slid into me, and my body tensed violently.
I let out a low, broken moan, clenching my fingers on the sheet.
Mike leaned so close that I could feel his hot breath on my neck.
“I needed this...” he whispered hoarsely.
I smiled through my moans, unable to respond with words.
It wasn't just his words, I could feel them in his every movement, in the desperation of his touch.
He began to move slowly, deeply, as if he wanted to remember every second of this moment.
With each thrust, his breathing became heavier and my body grew hotter.
Soon his movements were faster, filled with all the emotions he had been bottling up: frustration, jealousy, desire.
My moans grew louder as he held my hips and thrust deeper, harder.
I could feel his body pressing me down onto the bed, as if he wanted to possess me completely.
Suddenly, I heard the sound of a phone ringing.
Through my half-closed eyelids, I saw the screen on the nightstand, his girlfriend's name clearly displayed.
Mike looked at the phone, then at me.
His hips stopped for a moment.
My heart stopped, this was the moment of truth.
After a second, he threw the phone aside, ignoring the call.
He looked me straight in the eyes, and there was a dark, trembling certainty in his voice:
“She can wait.”
He lay down on top of me with all his weight, whispering in my ear:
“Right now, it's just us.”
That sentence blew my mind.
I screamed his name as an orgasm shook my body.
A moment later, I felt Mike stiffen, his hips making one last deep thrust before he came, completely lost in ecstasy.
He collapsed on top of me, sweaty, shaken, his heart pounding right next to my ear.
For a moment, it was just us, our rapid breathing and the warmth of our bodies.
If you enjoyed this story, consider supporting the author on Patreon.
To get in touch with the author, send them an email.
