روايات وقصص ضمن When They Touch Me

"T-touch me. Do it. Please." I pinch her nipple. Gardenia arches her back, groaning low in her throat, and then I'm cupping her breast, kneading it and weighing it in my palm. Fuck. One touch won't be enough. One taste won't be enough. Any foolish notion I had that this could happen just once, that we could simply get it out of our systems–it melts away into the heated air.

The dashcam at the entrance of the alley captured the entire scene of Cora abusing me. I told her if she laid another hand on me or if I got expelled, I would post this video online. "You were stripped naked, crawling on the ground like a dog in that video!" she fumed. "Do you really want to put that out there?" I burst out laughing. "Cora, look at me. I'm already in this deep. Why do you think I'd be afraid? If that video goes public, do you think people will pay more attention to me… or you?"

I reached out slowly, my hand trembling. Don't touch it. Walk away. Get help. But I couldn't stop myself. My fingers touched the shimmering air. And the world exploded.

"See!" He grabs me by the wrist, the stale popcorn falling to the floor. The contact combusts an unbelievable rush that spreads up my arm from the simple touch, enough to make me pull from his grip. Not familiar with the way my body is reacting to him. I rub my wrist, eyeing him warily.

I don’t hear him move. I feel it. A warmth at my wrist. Still. Careful. His fingers close gently around it. Not pulling. Not restraining. Just there. It’s the first time he’s ever touched me. The contact sends a quiet shock through my body. Not fear. Not heat. Grounding. I don’t pull away. He steps closer, close enough that I can feel the steadiness of him behind me. His thumb brushes once against my skin, tentative, like he’s waiting for permission he’s never learned how to ask for.

And finally, she touches it with my hand covering hers. My dick. Tbc.

They do it almost at the same time, and for a second I can’t tell who started it; their hands skim along my arms but don’t stop there—they meet through me, and that brief contact between their fingers is enough to spark something new. I say nothing, but I know they feel it, because the touch happens again, slower this time, and when their hands part, both seem more aware of each other than of me. That’s exactly what I want. I move to stand behind John and press gently at his back toward Demon—enough to make their chests collide, enough for their breaths to mix. “You could try something,” I say slowly, almost as if I were just thinking out loud. “Nothing complicated… just… don’t pull away.”

"Do you agree to my request?" She let her towel fall loose to the ground and stepped out of it, making sure to keep eye contact with mine as she pressed her naked body on mine. She guided my hands to the precipice of her dripping cunt and slowly rocked herself on my fingers. "Touch me, Mr. Martinez," She purred, biting down on her lower lip. Without warning, like a dog in heat, I plunged my fingers inside her and she gasped, letting out a loud moan that filled the room. I stroked her deeper as she held on tightly to me.

I sat slowly on the edge of the bed and stared at my hands, these same hands that had scraped dishes, folded laundry, wiped blood from Grandma’s lips during her worst nights. Now they were manicured and trembling. What have I done? I’d let three men touch me in ways no one ever had. I’d let them claim me. Use me. Worship me like I was something sacred when all I’d ever known was the feeling of being disposable. I felt… dirty. But also… free. I reached for my phone, half-thinking about calling Nana back—just to hear her laugh again, to make sure none of this was a dream. That’s when the alert came in.

The orthopedic rehabilitation for my hands was brutal. No matter how Susan tried to distract me, the pain still tore through me until I felt like I was being split apart. She pulled out every trick she could think of to soothe me and even resorted to bribing me with candy like I was a kid. At first, I assumed she treated everyone this way. However, when I happened to see her with other patients—all business, professional, and distant—I realized those absurd little gestures of comfort were reserved for me alone.