The author narrates.
Vikram walked with his head down, his body soaked by the rain.
The drops slid down his muscular skin, tracing every line of his torso, while his slow steps struck the waterlogged ground.
There was no earth, only a liquid floor that reflected the infinite darkness of the sky.
Each footstep raised ripples that vanished into nothingness.
His heart raced, but his body moved slowly, as if time had stretched.
He thought about what he had just seen: his mother's room, the words that had broken him.
That memory had faded, but the weight remained, lodged in his chest.
Suddenly, distant voices broke the silence.
Vikram lifted his head, his eyes shining in the rain.
He quickened his pace, not running, following the echo of those voices.
Further on, the darkness parted to reveal a building.
A motel.
Neon lights flickered on the facade, reflecting in the puddles on the ground.
Old cars were parked nearby, some with fogged windows, others with peeling paint.
The air smelled of dampness, gasoline, cigarettes extinguished too quickly.
Vikram stopped, watching.
There he was, two years younger, staggering in the rain, drunk, being held up by a girl.
The adult Vikram frowned, confused.
He remembered none of it.
Nothing.
But the feeling of familiarity hit him like déjà vu.
The girl led him toward the motel entrance.
Her face wasn't a shadow: it was clear, defined, with a smile that mixed patience and mischief.
She held him firmly, while the drunken Vikram let himself be dragged along, muttering incoherently.
Inside, the reception area was illuminated by a warm, yellowish light.
The floor shimmered with damp reflections, and the air was thick with the smell of alcohol and cheap perfume.
The girl approached the counter to reserve a room.
The drunken Vikram, staggering, leaned back against the counter, awkwardly resting his arm on it.
His half-closed eyes fixed on the young woman behind the counter.
With a crooked smile, he began to flirt.
Vikram [💤]: And you...? - he said in a deep voice, slurred by the alcohol - Don't you want to come with me?
His gaze was intense, though blurry, and his tone had that mixture of brashness and charm he usually used to pick up women.
The young woman looked at him amused, with a slight smile.
"I could, handsome."
The drunken Vikram smiled awkwardly, endearing himself to the girl after letting out a small, low laugh.
The young woman glanced at the girl accompanying Vikram for a moment, and in her gaze she saw someone who looked as if he were about to murder her. She swallowed and looked back at the man.
"I'm sorry, sir... it's already reserved."
The girl accompanying him intervened, her tone firm, almost possessive:
"This man is already with me."
The young woman nodded, still smiling, like someone going along with a drunkard with no other intentions.
"I understand... then enjoy your evening."
The adult Vikram observed everything from an unseen corner.
His chest rose and fell sharply, his lips pressed tightly together, his eyes wide open.
He remembered none of it, but the atmosphere, the voices, the gestures... everything felt disturbingly familiar.
It was as if the memory were buried deep in his mind, waiting to be unearthed by the Executioner.
The girl took the drunken Vikram by the hand and led him toward the stairs.
He staggered, laughing senselessly, while she guided him firmly.
The adult Vikram followed them, his heart pounding, unable to look away.
[⚧️]
The room was lit by a dim, yellow lamp that cast long shadows on the walls.
The air smelled of dampness and perfume, mingled with the alcohol that still clung to Vikram's body.
The blankets were soft and heavy, and the mattress groaned with every movement.
She locked the door, set her keys and purse aside, and approached with a smile.
There was something in her gaze: patience, desire, and a touch of tenderness at seeing Vikram swaying, vulnerable.
She climbed onto the bed; her weight made the wood creak, and she positioned herself above him.
Her lips sought Vikram's, and he, surprised for a moment, pushed the blankets aside and took her by the waist.
The kiss was immediate, ardent, as if they both desperately needed each other. Their breaths mingled, rapid, charged with fire.
Vikram lifted her roughly, still with the clumsiness of a drunk, and placed her on the bed, now on top of her.
His hands roamed down her legs, grasping them firmly and placing them on his shoulders.
He leaned forward, shifting some of his weight, and kissed her again, intensely.
She gasped softly, a brief sound that filled the room, as her fingers gripped the mattress.
The kiss trailed down to her neck.
Vikram traced it with his mouth, leaving warm marks on her skin.
One of his hands slid to her hair, gently cupping it and guiding her face toward him.
His other hand caressed her legs, her skin still damp from the rain.
She responded, caressing his back, his shoulders, and then timidly moving down to his abdomen.
The touch made Vikram let out a deep, longing sigh.
The atmosphere grew thicker, each breath a fiery burst in the air.
The adult Vikram, standing apart in the room, watched everything.
His chest rose and fell violently, his lips pressed tightly together, his eyes wide.
Sweat trickled down his forehead, and each gasp from the girl, each kiss from his drunken self, struck him like an impossible memory.
He remembered none of it, but his body told him otherwise: the sensation was real, all too real.
The mattress continued to groan with every movement, the lamp barely flickered, and the air was thick with breaths, sighs, and caresses.
It was a moment of fire, of need, of bodies seeking each other without thinking.
The memory shattered for an instant, as if the image dissolved into smoke.
But a second later it reappeared, in the same place, in the same room.
Only now, drunk, Vikram was more exposed.
His body lay in the middle of the bed, naked, wearing only black boxer shorts.
His legs were slightly apart, as if surrendering without thought, while he let out low, incoherent laughs, meaningless words that faded into the air.
His eyes, half-closed from the alcohol, were fixed on the girl who was beginning to undress in front of him.
Piece by piece, she undressed, with slow, deliberate movements, as if she enjoyed being watched.
Vikram was mesmerized, his gaze fixed, his chest rising and falling forcefully.
Heat enveloped him, a fire concentrated in his body, in that bulge visible beneath the fabric.
When she lowered her shorts, she revealed beautiful legs, long and firm.
But then, a shock hit him.
Drunken Vikram, and the adult Vikram watching, froze.
A small bulge was revealed in the lower part of his body.
The air grew heavy.
Drunken Vikram didn't look away, his eyes still drooping from the alcohol.
The adult, on the other hand, felt a shiver run down his spine.
She looked at him calmly, her voice soft and reassuring:
"Don't worry about that... think about what you see, about who I am."
And it was true: her body was wonderfully attractive, every curve, every gesture.
But that detail threw him off, left him speechless.
She climbed onto the bed, in her underwear, and settled down beside him.
She hugged his arm affectionately, resting her head on his shoulder.
Vikram, drunk, continued to stare at her, his breathing rapid, not so much from the alcohol, but from surprise.
Seconds later, her hand slowly slid down Vikram's toned abdomen.
The movement was gentle, almost ritualistic.
It descended toward his belly, and then lower still, until it grazed the fabric of his boxers.
Feeling the bulge, she pressed it gently.
Vikram's body tensed.
A slight tremor ran through his muscles, his breath became ragged and rapid.
He didn't pull away.
He just swallowed, nervous and bewildered.
She looked him in the eyes, with a calm smile, and said:
"Enjoy it... it doesn't matter how you see me. Just enjoy the intimacy."
The drunken Vikram didn't respond.
His chest rose and fell violently, his lips trembled, and his gaze remained fixed on her.
He didn't rise, he didn't deny it.
He simply let himself go, as her hand moved slowly beneath the marking every breath, every heartbeat.
The adult Vikram, secluded in the room, observed everything.
His heart pounded in his chest, his jaw clenched, his eyes wide.
Sweat trickled down his forehead, and every gesture, every caress, disarmed him.
It was a memory he refused to accept as his own, but it was there, alive, impossible to deny.
[⚧️]
The room was enveloped in a warm gloom, the yellow lamp casting long shadows that shifted with every breath.
The mattress creaked under their weight, and the air was thick with perfume, alcohol, and desire.
Vikram, drunk and sprawled on the bed, was now exposed, lost in the confusion.
She smiled as Vikram's member pointed slightly upward, glistening with fluid at the head, semi-erect. Large... its size impressed her. It was what she needed that night, and she wouldn't miss this opportunity.
She began to remove her underwear and bra, tossing them to the floor. Now she was exposed, her breasts and body bare before Vikram's imposing figure, his eyes fixed on her.
Vikram's gaze slowly traveled over her curves until it settled on the bulge in her body... on his member. And that's when his heart raced... his chest rising and falling violently, his gaze fixed on the girl as she undressed.
Every curve, every gesture, mesmerized him.
Heat enveloped him, and his breathing became faster, more ragged.
Seeing his reaction, she approached him with confident movements and leaned over him.
Their faces were inches apart, their breaths mingling, blending into a single air.
The scent of alcohol on Vikram's breath mingled with her perfume, creating a thick, heavy atmosphere.
The girl's hand gently caressed his cheek, a soft gesture that contrasted sharply with the tension of the moment.
"Enjoy..." she whispered in a calm, almost maternal voice, yet filled with fire. It doesn't matter how you see me.
Vikram swallowed, nervous, bewildered.
His chest heaved, his lips trembled, and though he didn't respond, his body did: he let himself go.
His legs opened a little wider, his breathing quickened, and his eyes never left her.
She positioned herself on top, supporting her weight gently, while her entrance brushed against Vikram's member, and she kissed him again.
The kiss was deep, fiery, with a rhythm that seemed to devour him.
Vikram's hands, still clumsy from the alcohol, gripped her waist, trembling between strength and vulnerability.
She gasped softly, a brief sound that filled the room, as her fingers traced his damp skin.
The adult Vikram, secluded in the room, observed everything.
His heart pounded in his chest, his jaw clenched, his eyes wide.
It was like watching an intimate film of himself, a memory he never wanted to acknowledge.
Sweat trickled down his forehead, and every breath, every kiss, every gesture disarmed him.
He couldn't tear his gaze away.
He was a spectator trapped in his own past.
[⚧️🔥]
Later, the girl lay beneath Vikram, face up, gazing at his muscular body, her breath coming in short, ragged breaths, nervous about what she was about to do. She knew why she felt this way.
And Vikram, on top of her, his hands gripping her body on either side, his legs spread so she could position herself between them, watched her intently. Her small body was so alluring, but something puzzled him: the girl's member, which confused him, since girls didn't usually have them.
Vikram, his vision slightly blurred, was about to ask the girl something, but the words caught in his throat, overwhelmed by nervousness.
Seeing the man's vulnerability on top of her, the girl sat up slightly to kiss his full lips, telling him that even without that intimate part of her, he could play with another.
Vikram swallowed again, saying nothing.
He continued watching her and, after a few seconds, spoke in a deep, slightly raspy voice, though somewhat slurred by the effects of the alcohol.
Vikram [💤]: Do you want me to fuck you?
At that moment, Vikram lowered his dominant hand to his member, while the other, unable to support its weight, gripped it tightly. Then he brought it to the girl and began to caress her intimately.
When the girl felt it, she knew it wasn't of average size, but something much more substantial. Something she had longed for for so long. The sensation of feeling it began to excite her.
When Vikram didn't hear her, he became slightly annoyed, grabbed the girl's legs, turned her over, leaving her face down, and then slapped her ass.
Vikram [💤]: Sluts like you should speak up more! - he said, his tone becoming increasingly intense. It was obvious that Vikram didn't like someone remaining silent for so long; it frustrated him a little.
The dominant man gave her another slap on the ass; the sound filled the room, and with it, the girl let out a moan so soft it made Vikram smile slightly.
"Yes... yes, I want you to fuck me."
Vikram let out a deep laugh, accompanied by another slap on the girl's ass. The girl's right buttock was red from his hand, and that excited Vikram, seeing her, her body, hearing her moans.
He aligned his member at the entrance, and with one thrust, filled the girl. Without preparing her. But a little pre-seminal fluid on the tip of his glans, which oozed from his erection, helped him enter effortlessly.
The girl let out a loud moan as she felt that piece of meat fill her stomach.
Immediately, Vikram began thrusting into her, forcefully, not gently at all. The girl immediately clung to the blankets, like an anchor, needing to withstand the slight pain she felt, a pain that a part of her had accepted.
The bed creaked, and the adult Vikram, witnessing it, felt a tingle. There was no excitement in his body at what he saw, but rather confusion, a touch of disgust at what he saw of his past self, having sex with a girl with a penis.
Another slap echoed in the room, and the adult Vikram snapped out of his thoughts for a brief moment, observing the drunken Vikram and the girl pleasuring themselves.
The adult Vikram looked away, resigned to the fact that he was surely seeing this... as he did, the surroundings began to crumble... and with that, Vikram's body was plunged back into darkness.
His eyes went blank, as if seeing that had extinguished something in him that he never thought would do something like that.
___________________________________
🐏: Ooh 😏, what a pretty girl.
🐑: She's a transvestite.
🐏: Oh yeah? 😯... How cute 😈.
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