My place in the world 3. Our first time.

After a night of insomnia and anxiety, I made my decision at 5:30 in the morning. I got up, showered quickly, avoiding touching myself more than necessary (I had gone almost 24 hours without masturbating and the sensitivity was unbearable) and opened my closet to get dressed.

I hesitated for a few seconds before choosing exactly the same clothes I always wore for training: my black compression tights that marked every muscle of my legs and buttocks, a gray Nike t-shirt that fit my torso, and on top, black sports shorts. The only difference was that today I wasn't carrying my gym bag, just my keys, wallet, and phone in my pockets.

I left the house at 5:40, calculating that it would take me about 15 minutes to walk to the address he had given me. Calle Alfil 34. I vaguely knew the area, not far from Malasaña. The streets were practically deserted at that hour, with only the occasional early worker and delivery trucks. The fresh morning air helped clear my mind, although every step I took towards his direction made my heart beat faster.

I arrived five minutes before the agreed time. The building was old but well-maintained, one of those Madrid buildings that had been renovated while keeping the classic facade. I stood still for a few seconds in front of the intercom, gathering the courage to press the button for 5ºB. Finally, with a trembling finger, I pressed it.

There was no verbal response, just the buzzing of the door as it opened. I entered and walked up the stairs slowly, as if each step gave me one last chance to turn around and run. But I didn't.

When I reached the second floor, I saw that the door to 5ºB was ajar. I took a deep breath and pushed it gently.

"Hello?" I said in a low voice, entering a small but elegant foyer.

"I'm in the living room," his voice responded, that deep voice I remembered perfectly from the locker room.

I closed the door behind me and walked down a short hallway that opened up to a spacious and bright area. The living room was much larger than I had expected for an apartment in this area: high ceilings with original moldings and dark wood flooring. There were large windows that let in the morning light, being the tallest building in the area and having only the rooftops of surrounding buildings in front. The furniture was minimalist but of evident quality. A black leather sofa dominated the space, facing a glass coffee table. Bookshelves filled with books covered one wall, and on another, there was a large screen TV facing a black reclining armchair.

And there he was, sitting on the sofa with a sleepy look, wearing only gray silk pajama pants that hung dangerously low on his hips. His naked torso showed an even more impressive physique than I had seen at the gym: defined muscles but not exaggerated, covered by that layer of dark hair that descended in a line until it disappeared under the waistband of his pajamas.

"You've c...