through me at the sight of his muscular chest that is scarred by his religious tattoo. He forcefully encloses me in a tight embrace. We’re so close that my breasts are constricted against his bare chest, making my nipples hard and sensitive. The sounds of our moans are muffled by the sound of our mouths moving in harmony.
Sparks of electricity shoot down to my core when he places his hands on my legs. He moves them upward, caressing my thighs, and finally revealing my underwear. As though I’m a breakable porcelain doll, he places me on the mattresses and covers me with his body. His hand trails my side from my waist to my thighs, sending pangs of pleasure deep through me.
Beads of sweat cover Rey’s beautiful face. His trembling hand caresses my hair and from there slides slowly from my shoulder to my chest before resting between my breasts. He slides down my shirt, exposing my left breast. His lips leave my mouth, trailing kisses along my collarbone, and travel to my neck, sucking gently. My entire body becomes a live wire when he kisses a path down my neck to the point where my heart is beating at full speed.
I’ve always tried to imagine how male lips would feel on my skin, but nothing could’ve prepared me for this wave of overwhelming sensations. It feels better than I thought it would. My back arches and I find myself asking for more. More of his hands, more of his eager mouth.
His strong hands find their way up my skirt and confidently untie my underwear. My heart is beating so fast that it hurts. This is a side of Rey I didn’t know. Primal, sexual Rey. Rey the man. Rey the lover.
I’m going to have sex , I think, feeling a mix of anxiety and triumph.
I pant when I take a look at our reflections in the mirror. We’re half naked; my legs are around his waist. His mouth hovers above my breast, and I’m writhing in anticipation.
Rey’s lips are about to cover my hardened nipple when a crashing sound startles us. Nothing to worry about. The ceiling of the next room crumbles to the ground all the time. I don’t know how long we stare into each other’s eyes, saying nothing.
Then it happens. Something I thought I was prepared to experience, but apparently, I’ve overestimated my strength of will: his rejection.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbles.
He doesn’t push me away, but it hurts the same when he, still erect, takes his shirt from the floor and leaves the gym in a hurry.
Fighting the overwhelming feeling of humiliation and hurt, I button up my shirt. He doesn’t want what I have to offer. I’ve only made saying no very hard on him.
I was sure he’d say yes. There’s a general belief around: men can’t think about anything else, men need it all the time, men will jump at any opportunity. Why does Rey have to be the exception to the rule? This was supposed to be a blissful experience for both of us. His rebuff makes me feel so … cheap. So unworthy.
I try to conserve at least a little dignity while I leave the gym, fearing that I’ve lost my only friend.
Once outside, I whistle for Poncho. It’s not curfew yet but the dusty, steep streets are almost deserted, and there’s barely any visibility. My dog’s modified genes allow him to see through the darkness, so I rely on him to guide me. I can’t shake off the feeling that somebody’s watching me, but maybe I’m getting paranoid. But I prefer paranoia over the feeling of failure gnawing at me.
How am I going to face the troops now? I don’t even have enough time to meet someone else before the troops arrive. I work long shifts at a clothing factory. Later, I go to TCR training sessions in which, incidentally, Rey is an instructor. Would it be possible to develop a crush on someone and have this person return my interest in five weeks? At this moment, I wish that I was the kind of girl who can sleep with anybody, anytime, like Elena Rivers.
Well, it is what is. No use dwelling on this experience. I’ll find a different route to have
Sparks of electricity shoot down to my core when he places his hands on my legs. He moves them upward, caressing my thighs, and finally revealing my underwear. As though I’m a breakable porcelain doll, he places me on the mattresses and covers me with his body. His hand trails my side from my waist to my thighs, sending pangs of pleasure deep through me.
Beads of sweat cover Rey’s beautiful face. His trembling hand caresses my hair and from there slides slowly from my shoulder to my chest before resting between my breasts. He slides down my shirt, exposing my left breast. His lips leave my mouth, trailing kisses along my collarbone, and travel to my neck, sucking gently. My entire body becomes a live wire when he kisses a path down my neck to the point where my heart is beating at full speed.
I’ve always tried to imagine how male lips would feel on my skin, but nothing could’ve prepared me for this wave of overwhelming sensations. It feels better than I thought it would. My back arches and I find myself asking for more. More of his hands, more of his eager mouth.
His strong hands find their way up my skirt and confidently untie my underwear. My heart is beating so fast that it hurts. This is a side of Rey I didn’t know. Primal, sexual Rey. Rey the man. Rey the lover.
I’m going to have sex , I think, feeling a mix of anxiety and triumph.
I pant when I take a look at our reflections in the mirror. We’re half naked; my legs are around his waist. His mouth hovers above my breast, and I’m writhing in anticipation.
Rey’s lips are about to cover my hardened nipple when a crashing sound startles us. Nothing to worry about. The ceiling of the next room crumbles to the ground all the time. I don’t know how long we stare into each other’s eyes, saying nothing.
Then it happens. Something I thought I was prepared to experience, but apparently, I’ve overestimated my strength of will: his rejection.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbles.
He doesn’t push me away, but it hurts the same when he, still erect, takes his shirt from the floor and leaves the gym in a hurry.
Fighting the overwhelming feeling of humiliation and hurt, I button up my shirt. He doesn’t want what I have to offer. I’ve only made saying no very hard on him.
I was sure he’d say yes. There’s a general belief around: men can’t think about anything else, men need it all the time, men will jump at any opportunity. Why does Rey have to be the exception to the rule? This was supposed to be a blissful experience for both of us. His rebuff makes me feel so … cheap. So unworthy.
I try to conserve at least a little dignity while I leave the gym, fearing that I’ve lost my only friend.
Once outside, I whistle for Poncho. It’s not curfew yet but the dusty, steep streets are almost deserted, and there’s barely any visibility. My dog’s modified genes allow him to see through the darkness, so I rely on him to guide me. I can’t shake off the feeling that somebody’s watching me, but maybe I’m getting paranoid. But I prefer paranoia over the feeling of failure gnawing at me.
How am I going to face the troops now? I don’t even have enough time to meet someone else before the troops arrive. I work long shifts at a clothing factory. Later, I go to TCR training sessions in which, incidentally, Rey is an instructor. Would it be possible to develop a crush on someone and have this person return my interest in five weeks? At this moment, I wish that I was the kind of girl who can sleep with anybody, anytime, like Elena Rivers.
Well, it is what is. No use dwelling on this experience. I’ll find a different route to have
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