Lore’s Confession in My Room

I’m going to tell it as it happened, without embellishment and without making myself out to be a hero, because if there’s one thing I learned from that period, it’s that desire doesn’t always arrive wrapped in tenderness. Sometimes it comes through humiliation, curiosity, the need for someone to look at you and discover precisely the thing that embarrasses you. That’s how it happened with her.

After that strange first encounter we’d had some time before, everything carried on as if nothing had happened. Wherever we crossed paths, she treated me with the same coldness as everyone else. Not one special smile, not a knowing signal, not a word that might make me think I mattered to her even slightly more than anybody else.

I, on the other hand, couldn’t stop looking at her. I ran into her in the halls, in the courtyard, outside class, and invented entire stories in my head. I imagined kisses, reconciliations that had never been necessary, absurd scenes of love that had nothing to do with what truly existed between us: a dirty, unresolved tension, loaded with perversion.

One afternoon, leaving class, we bumped shoulders in the doorway. I stood there staring at her like an idiot, unable to say a single word. She held my gaze for a second, hardened her mouth, and gave me a curt order.

—Move.

She pushed me aside with her body and kept walking. A few steps farther on, the guy she was seeing at the time was waiting for her. She casually hooked herself around his arm, as if I didn’t exist, and walked on.

I felt a blow to the stomach. One of those that empties your lungs and leaves you frozen. But as I walked home alone, that pain began to mingle with something else. I got hard. Just like that, all at once. With anger, with shame, with the image of her contempt repeating in my head until it became pure arousal.

I ended up locked in a bathroom, breathing hard, my cock stiff inside my pants. I pulled it out trembling and jerked off quickly, braced against the wall, thinking about her face when she ordered me out of the way. I came with guilt, relief, and a new clarity: the way she treated me made me desperately horny.

That night I logged on to distract myself, as I always did. As soon as I entered, I saw that she was online. I hesitated for a few seconds, wondering whether to write to her, and before I could decide, a message from her arrived. Just one word.

—Hi.

My heart began pounding. I replied, trying to sound normal, but she soon got straight to the point. She told me she’d noticed my stop in the bathroom. She wrote it with insolent certainty, as if she’d followed me with her eyes, as if she knew exactly what I’d gone in there to do.

She called me a wanker. She told me I liked showing off and that it turned me on to be watched. She wrote it laughing, but it wasn’t an innocent joke. There was venom in it, and hunger. I answered more boldly than I’d intended. I told her that, from the looks of it, she liked watching just as much as I liked exhibiting myself.

Her reply came quickly. She admitted it was true. Then she added something that left me burning in front of the screen: she confessed that after leaving my house that other time, she’d gone to see her boyfriend and sucked his cock while thinking of me. She finished by telling me not to get my hopes up, that nothing would ever happen between us.

I replied that it was a shame, because I already had a few things in mind for next time. She immediately asked what they were. I didn’t tell her. I deliberately logged off. I wanted to leave her mind working just as she’d left mine on so many nights.

The following days were different. It wasn’t an obvious change to anyone else, but I noticed it. Her looks lasted a little longer. She came near me on any pretext. Sometimes she spoke to me with a coldness that seemed studied; at other times, with badly concealed curiosity. It was no longer just provocation. It was interest.

One afternoon my doorbell rang. I went to the window, and when I saw her downstairs, waiting for me with half a smile, my entire body hardened. I opened the door, trying not to let what was happening show on my face.

—What a surprise—I said.

She came in, calmly looking around, as if she knew perfectly well what she had come for.

—You discovered a rather simple weakness—she said—. Curiosity. Are you alone?

—Yes. I always am at this time.

We went upstairs to my room. As soon as I closed the door, I noticed that, however confident she wanted to appear, she was nervous. She sat on the edge of the bed, crossed and uncrossed her legs once, and fixed me with a delicious mixture of challenge and anticipation.

I was nervous too, but there was something about having her there, alone with me, that pushed me to speak without thinking too much.

—You like watching just as much as I like being watched by you—I said—. But this time I want to go further.

She tilted her head.

—What do you have in mind?

I didn’t answer with words. I took one step, then another, and kissed her. It was a brief kiss at first, almost testing the waters. Her lips were closed and warm, and for an instant I thought she was going to pull away. But she didn’t. She lowered her gaze, drew a deep breath, and stayed still.

—Sorry—I murmured, more out of reflex than regret.

She raised her eyes again.

—Does this make me unfaithful?

—That’s for you to decide.

My answer made her smile faintly. This time she was the one who moved closer. We kissed again, much more deeply. Her tongue entered my mouth without hesitation, and I welcomed it with an urgency I’d been storing up for far too long. I grabbed her waist, pulled her toward me, and felt her nipples hard through the fabric. That friction drove me crazy.

We kissed as if we’d been repressing ourselves for months. My hands moved up her back, I lifted her shirt, and found her hot skin. When I unfastened her bra and covered one breast with my hand, she let out a short, surprised moan that made me squeeze her harder. I’d spent too long imagining that moment to take it slowly.

I sucked one nipple, then the other, slowly at first, hungrier afterward. She grabbed my hair, not to pull me away but to make me continue. She arched slightly, breathing through her mouth, and I filled myself with her scent, her heat, the increasingly uncontrolled sound of her arousal.

While I licked her, I felt her hand move down to my crotch. She stroked me through my pants with her open palm, testing the hard bulge, and smiled against my head when she felt how I was.

—So it’s true—she whispered—. You get this hard this quickly with me.

—You know perfectly well what you do to me.

—Yes—she said—. And I like it.

She squeezed my cock through the fabric, slowly, letting me feel every stroke. I gently bit her breast and slid my hand between her legs. Through her pants I felt the wet heat she’d already built up. She spread her legs wider without saying anything. That gesture was a shameless invitation.

I laid her on her back on the bed. She let me, her eyes fixed on mine as if she wanted to see how far I would go. I took off her shirt completely, then her pants. When I saw her tight underwear, darkened by wetness, my throat closed with desire.

I ran my fingers over the fabric and she shuddered.

—Look at me—I said.

She did. She held my gaze while I pulled aside her underwear and finally saw her open, wet pussy there for me. Her thighs were tense, her stomach rising and falling quickly, and the expression on her face—half embarrassed, half aroused—lit me up even more.

—Do you like that too?—I asked—. Being watched like this?

—Don’t talk so much—she snapped, her voice broken—. Touch me.

I obeyed. I slipped in one finger, then two, feeling how hot and slippery she was as she took me. Her whole body reacted. She grabbed my wrist, not to stop me but to make me go deeper. I stroked her inside while searching for her clit with my thumb. She twisted on the bed and let out a more open, less controlled moan.

—Fuck... like that—she said—. Yes, like that.

Seeing her lose her composure for the first time delighted me. I pulled out my fingers and put them in my mouth in front of her. Then I lowered my head between her legs. As soon as I ran my tongue over her pussy, she closed her thighs around my face with an almost violent reflex. She was soaking wet.

I opened her legs wide and set about eating her pussy without hurrying. Flat tongue, then the tip, moving up and down, immersing myself in her taste, alternating with little sucks on her clit. She couldn’t stop moving. At times she clutched my hair, at times she arched her back, and at times she simply said my name through clenched teeth as if she were angry at herself for enjoying it so much.

—Don’t stop—she panted—. Don’t stop, you bastard.

I kept going. I slid two fingers into her while licking her, curling them inside, and the effect was immediate. She began moaning without shame, her head turned on the pillow, her hips seeking my mouth. I heard her getting wetter with every movement. I felt her tightening around my fingers, felt her drawing closer to the edge.

—I’m going to come—she said, almost surprised by the sound of her own voice.

—Then come.

I sucked her clit harder, without giving her a moment’s rest, and felt her come all at once. She squeezed my face between her thighs, trembling, with a long, broken moan that left my mouth wet and my aching cock rock-hard. I didn’t pull away until her body relaxed.

She spent a few seconds catching her breath. I sat up, awkwardly took off my clothes, and stood naked in front of her. At first she looked me up and down with almost clinical attention, but the hunger soon became obvious. She sat up and knelt at the edge of the bed.

—Come here—she said.

I moved closer. She took my cock in one hand and stroked it slowly, exploring it as if she wanted to learn it. Her breathing was still ragged from her orgasm, and that mixture of satisfaction and arousal made her even more dangerous. She spat on the tip, spread it with her hand, and then ran her tongue over my glans with a slowness that made me close my eyes.

Her first suck wasn’t clumsy or uncertain. She swallowed me with wet softness, going down as far as she could and coming back up without taking her eyes off me. I grabbed her hair, more to steady myself than to guide her. Her mouth was hot, her tongue active, and every time she pulled me out a little, she left me glistening with saliva before taking me back in.

—Fuck...—escaped me.

She smiled faintly with my cock between her lips and kept sucking me. She alternated long sucks with slow licks over the tip and little suction that left my legs weak. She lowered one hand to my balls, caressed them carefully, then jerked me off while her mouth kept working. I couldn’t think clearly anymore. I only felt pleasure pulling me rapidly upward.

—If you keep that up, I’m going to come—I warned her, panting.

She pulled away just far enough to speak.

—Not yet. You’re not.

She pushed me backward until I was sitting on the bed. Then she removed the last of her underwear, climbed on top of me, and guided my cock with her hand to her entrance. The contact of her hot pussy against my glans drew a sharp moan from me. She lowered herself slowly, taking me inch by inch, and when she had me fully inside, she stayed still for a second, eyes closed and mouth open.

—Fuck—she whispered—. Now, yes.

She began moving over me hungrily. Slowly at first, savoring the penetration, letting me feel the way she squeezed me inside. Then faster, rising and falling decisively, digging her nails into my chest. I gripped her hips and matched her rhythm from below, thrusting upward whenever she came down.

The sound of our bodies filled the room. Her breathing became one continuous pant, and every time she sank all the way down she let out a dirty word, an order, an aroused complaint. There was nothing left of the cold girl who treated me like anyone else. On top of me, she was pure, unleashed desire.

—Like that... like that... don’t stop—she said—. Fuck me properly.

She leaned down to kiss me while continuing to ride me. I kissed her with my mouth open, feeling her tongue and the movement of her hips at the same time. I squeezed her ass, lifted her slightly, and began thrusting upward harder. She responded by moving faster, dropping herself onto my cock with a wet slap that made me see white for an instant.

I turned her over. I wanted to see her differently, to have her beneath me while I set the pace. She fell onto the mattress on her back and immediately opened her legs. I lifted one onto my shoulder and penetrated her again, this time entering hard, without preamble. Every thrust made her whole body tremble.

—Is this what you wanted?—I asked between pants—. For me to fuck you while you were still with your boyfriend?

She bit her lip, aroused by the bluntness of the question.

—Yes—she admitted—. Yes, I wanted this. I wanted your cock. I wanted to know if you’d put it in as well as I imagined.

Her confession pushed me completely over the edge. I increased the pace. I moved in and out of her wet pussy with a thick sound, gripping her thighs, watching her tits bounce with every blow. She no longer moaned softly; she was truly screaming, not caring about anything. Her makeup was running, her hair stuck to her face, and she was more beautiful like that—disheveled and hot—than in any of my fantasies.

I lowered one hand and rubbed her clit while continuing to fuck her. The combination undid her. She began twisting beneath me, closing her legs, saying she was going to come again. I didn’t slow down. I wanted to feel her break completely.

—Do it—I told her—. Come with me inside you.

She came with a powerful spasm, squeezing my cock brutally. She let out a long, hoarse moan, then a chain of trembling breaths while she continued taking me. Her second orgasm left me on the verge. I had to pull out for a moment so I wouldn’t finish right there.

She looked at me, still shuddering.

—Don’t you dare stop now.

I grabbed her by the waist and turned her onto her knees. She supported herself on her hands on the bed without protesting. I spread her legs and entered her again from behind. The new position drew a moan from both of us. I went in deep, feeling how sensitive and tight her pussy still was after coming.

I began slowly, enjoying the sight of her arched back and the way she pushed her ass toward me, asking for more. Then I sped up. My hips struck her in a steady, dry rhythm. One hand held her hip; with the other I grabbed her hair, lifting her head slightly to kiss her neck.

—Look at you—I said in her ear—. You came to my house out of curiosity, and now you’re letting me fuck you as if you’d been waiting for it for months.

—Because I had been waiting for it for months—she replied between moans—. Don’t make me talk if you don’t want me to come again.

I slipped my hand beneath her stomach and rubbed her clit again while continuing to thrust into her from behind. That drove her crazy. She braced herself more firmly on her elbows, spread her legs wider, and began meeting every thrust by moving toward me. There was no restraint left in her now. Only desire, sweat, and dirty words mixed with her moans.

—Harder.

I obliged. The bed creaked. I felt my orgasm rising inexorably, hard and urgent, getting closer and closer. She was on the brink too. I could tell by the way she squeezed me, by the trembling of her thighs, by the desperate way she touched herself while I fucked her.

—I’m coming—I said, my voice broken.

—Me too. Don’t pull out.

Her words were the final spark. I held her tighter, gave her several deep, disordered thrusts, and came inside her with a growl that emptied me completely. At the same time, she had another spasm and came again, squeezing my cock while I continued spilling inside her hot pussy.

We stayed still for a few seconds, joined together, breathing as if we’d been running. Then I collapsed onto the bed and she settled on top of me, her cheek against my chest. Her hot, damp breasts pressed against my skin. Neither of us said anything. There was no need.

We stayed like that for a while, recovering. I ran my hand silently over her back, still unable to believe what had just happened. She breathed more slowly now, no longer trembling, but she didn’t seek conversation or tender caresses. That wasn’t what existed between us.

After a few minutes she sat up. I was about to say something, anything, but stopped myself. I watched her dress without hurrying, picking up each garment from the floor and putting that controlled expression back on—the one she’d worn when she entered my house. Only her still-flushed cheeks and the way she avoided looking directly at me betrayed what had happened.

When she was finished, she went to the door. I thought she might say something funny, or cruel, or at least goodbye. But she didn’t. She simply opened it, walked out, and closed it behind her.

I remained alone in the room, with the smell of sex still in the sheets and the certainty that that afternoon hadn’t been an adolescent fantasy or an exaggeration of my memory. It had been a silent confession between two bodies: she was aroused by watching, provoking, and cheating; I went crazy displaying myself, obeying, and ending up trapped in that game.

And the worst part—or the best—was that instead of feeling satisfied, I was left wanting more than ever. Because after experiencing what happened when her curiosity turned into action, I understood that it wasn’t over. It had only just begun.