Chapter 36: First Kiss 🌶️🌶️

I wake up late, still stuck in the haze of the night before. The room is quiet, light filtering in soft and pale, the sheets a little crumpled. I just lie there for a few seconds—eyes half-open, mouth dry, my dick hard without knowing why. I think about last night. About her. My stomach tightens.

I stretch, get up, head downstairs in just my boxers, hair a mess. The house is silent. Just the smell of coffee, and the faint hum of the news on TV somewhere in the background.

My mom’s in the kitchen. Mug in one hand, laptop open in front of her.

She looks up when I walk in.

Mom: “Well look who’s up. Weren’t you supposed to be at uni?”

Me: “Woke up feeling weird ... headache or something. I messaged the professor.”

She gives me that half-skeptical, half-exhausted look, then nods without pushing it.

Mom: “Be careful, Brice. You’ve looked out of it lately.”

Me: “I’ll handle it. Don’t worry.”

She watches me a few seconds longer, like she’s trying to see through me.

I pour myself a coffee, linger a bit, scroll on my phone without really reading.

Eventually, she leaves for work.

And just like that, the house is empty. For real.

I’ve got the whole living room to myself. The silence. The sunlight pouring through the windows, warm and steady.

I slump onto the couch, neck resting against the back cushion. I close my eyes. Feels ... almost good.

I stay like that for a while. Still. Quiet. Thinking about her. About everything we’ve done. About everything we haven’t done yet.

And time just slips by...

It’s almost 2 PM when I hear the door open. A key turning, the rustle of a bag, the sharp clack of heels.

I lift my head. And there she is.

Emma.

She walks in, bag over her shoulder. She looks surprised to see me there—but doesn’t show it.

She’s dressed. But not just dressed.

Black high-waisted shorts, sheer tights, a slightly see-through white blouse. Sexy. Classy. Fucking flawless.

I sit up a bit on the couch.

Me: “You just got back from uni?”

She drops her bag without even looking at me, like it’s normal to be this drop-dead hot in the middle of the week.

Emma: “Yeah. Needed to grab a few things...”

She moves through the room like she owns it. Calm. Confident. She grabs a folder off the coffee table, slips it into her bag, adjusts her blouse as she walks past me.

Then, finally, she looks at me.

Emma: “You planning to stay slumped there all day, or do you have a plan?”

I smirk, eyeing her from head to toe—not even pretending to be subtle.

Me: “You planning to stay dressed like that long, or are you just trying to drive me insane?”

She raises an eyebrow. One side of her mouth curls up.

Emma: “You think this is insane? I think it’s pretty modest.”

Me: “Modest ... but fucking hot.”

She lets out a short laugh—low, dry.

Emma: “Make up your mind, Brice.”

I stand slowly from the couch. Her eyes follow me.

Me: “Right now? I wanna grab you.”

She frowns.

Emma: “Excuse me?”

Me: “Run.”

She gets it instantly.

Drops everything. Turns. Bolts down the hallway, laughing.

And I go after her.

We tear through the house like two kids in the middle of some wild game. She weaves around furniture, laughing loud and free.

“Hahahaaa—!”

Her tights shimmer in the light, thighs tight, ass bouncing.

I lunge. She slips away. Keeps teasing me. Keeps turning me on.

Emma: “You’ve gotten slow, old man!”

Me: “Your ass got faster, that’s not fair.”

I corner her at the edge of the living room. She backs up, pressed against the wall.

I move in, breath ragged.

“Hhhhh...”

She’s right there—flushed cheeks, hair messy, eyes lit up.

Her chest rises and falls fast. She’s still laughing—nervous now.

Then the laughter fades.

Now we’re just breathing.

“Hhh ... Mmmhhh...”

And we stare.

Emma: “What exactly are you planning to do right now?”

Me: “Not sure yet. Maybe pin you to this wall.”

Emma: “And after that?”

Me: “Then we’ll see.”

I reach for her. She leans back just a little, eyes gleaming. That smile—provocative. Her breath is shaky. And then it breaks loose.

I grab her before she can even catch her breath. She’s still laughing, trying to wriggle free—only for the fun of it—but I pull her tight against me, my hands gripping her hips, her burning body pressed to mine.

She throws me a sideways glance—cheeks flushed, breath short.

Emma: “You’re insane...”

Me: “You just figuring that out now?”

I pull her in, lead her upstairs—her hand clinging to my arm. I push open her bedroom door, guide her back toward the bed, and with a sharp thrust of my hips, I drop her onto it.

I stare at her like a fucking animal. Every detail of her body has me hooked—the fabric stretched across her thighs, the glossy shimmer of her tights, the barely-there lace under her blouse, half-unbuttoned. Everything about her calls to me. Burns through me.

I move in slow. Lean over her. My hands slide along her hips, caress her thighs over the tights. I kiss just above her stomach. She arches slightly beneath me.

Emma: “You planning on torturing me like this for long?”

Me: “I’m gonna take my time ... until you’re shaking from just my fingers.”

She smiles—provocative—but her breathing’s already shallow.

I unbutton her blouse slowly. Peel it off her shoulders, revealing her skin inch by inch. Her chest strains under the lace. I lower my head. Kiss between her breasts. She lets out a low moan—quiet, almost shy, but full of heat.

I straighten up, hands back on her thighs. I ease them up.

Then rip her tights apart in one sharp move. The fabric tears with a dry snap. She bolts upright, surprised.

Emma: “Are you serious?! I just bought those two days ago—”

She doesn’t get to finish. I grab her by the hips, flip her onto her stomach, hold her in place. I tug her panties aside—just enough.

Me: “You can buy new ones. Just not now.”

She starts to say something, but I’m already behind her. My hand drifts up to her neck, presses her gently into the mattress. Her breath quickens.

I sink into her in one thrust—deep, all the way.

Emma: “Haaaaaaah...”

Her voice escapes in a breathless cry. Her back arches. She’s hot, gripping, trembling. My hips roll against her, slow. Deliberate. I want her to feel every single movement, every inch sliding in and out. My chest against her back, my breath in the curve of her neck.

Me: “Fuck ... you feel that?”

Emma: “Yeah...”

Me: “I’m losing my mind over you ... You have no idea what you’re doing to me...”

Emma: “I do. I can feel it...”

I grip tighter. Pull her up against me—still deep inside her. I hold her straight, hands locked around her waist, her arms down by her sides, head slightly tilted. She’s panting.

Me: “What we’re doing ... it’s not normal. But fuck, it’s so hot...”

Emma: “I love it ... me too...”

Me: “You’re perfect. You’re mine. Right now.”

Emma: “Do it ... fuck me however you want.”

I tighten my hold on her hips. Thrust deeper. She moans louder, her voice rising with every push. Her neck’s getting damp, her mouth open, spilling long, broken breaths.

Emma: “Haaaah ... hnhh ... hhhhmm...”

I lower my head and kiss her between the shoulder blades, letting my hands roam across her stomach, her thighs, up to the base of her throat.

Me: “It’s you. You’re the one making me lose control. This secret between us ... the fact that no one knows ... that’s what drives me insane.”

Emma: “Me too ... I think about it all the time ... I don’t want anything else.”

She turns her head slightly toward me, her eyes hazy and burning with heat.

Emma: “Don’t stop ... I can’t take it...”

I gently lay her back down, her stomach pressed to the mattress, then lean over her, thrusting into her again—slower this time, but deeper, with more force. Our bodies mold to each other, moving in sync, my breath warm against her neck while her fingers clutch the sheets beneath her.

Emma: “I want you to stay inside me ... until the end...”

Me: “You want me to come in you?”

Emma: “Yes ... I want to feel everything ... every drop...”

Her words hit me like a surge of electricity. My breath catches, my lower body tenses up completely. Every part of me is straining toward that one inevitable moment. I slow down, slide my hands along her hips, and gently roll her onto her back, never pulling out. Her body opens up to me, aligns perfectly, her stomach pressing against mine, her chest rising against my skin as our breaths mix.

I rest on my forearms, staring into her eyes. She holds my gaze, silent, her eyes wet with something I don’t need to ask about to understand. I start moving again, slow and deep. She takes all of me with no resistance, her heat wrapping around me and setting me on fire from the inside out.

And then it hits.

Everything tightens. I freeze for just a second, still locked in her eyes.

Me: “Look at me, Emma...”

She nods, her fingers sliding up my neck, her other hand resting softly on my cheek.

Emma: “Do it...”

I let out a breath, long and broken.

Me: “Haaaaaah ... fuck ... Hmmmm!”*

My voice comes out low, strained, almost broken.

And I come.

It bursts out of me—warm, thick, unstoppable. Every pulse pours deep inside her, my stomach twisting, my head tipping forward slightly, my arms shaking with the effort of holding myself up. I feel it all—every contraction, every flood of cum filling her completely.

Emma: “Hnnn ... haaa ... I feel you ... Hmmm, it’s so good Brice...”

Her hips shift slightly, her thighs press up against mine as she wraps around me, pulling me closer, grounding me to her. Her breath is heavy and rough, trembling in my ear. She holds me tight, lets out a soft moan. She doesn’t climax, but she feels every single second of it with me, living it fully, breathing it in.

I stay inside her, unmoving, drained and caught in the weight of it all. Her eyes don’t leave mine. My hips are still tense, my body still trembling, floating just above hers. I can’t speak. My throat’s tight, and my eyes are shining—not from shame, but because I’m overflowing.