NEIGHBORHOOD SEX / GUTTER LITERATURE

The uncle's name was Dani. Twenty-seven years old, square jaw, hair shaved to one on the sides and a bit longer on top. Wide hands, marked knuckles, the veins on his forearm like tense cords under his dark skin. He smelled of clean sweat mixed with rolling tobacco and something else, something animal that went straight to your brain.

When he kissed you, his tongue entered aggressively. It wasn't a kiss. It was a declaration of intentions. He grabbed the back of your neck with one hand and held your jaw with the other, controlling your mouth as if it were his. And at that moment, it was.

You floated. Your body had become something soft, hot, liquid. Each nerve ending amplified threefold. You felt the fabric of his sweater against your chest, the heat of his body penetrating you, his heavy breathing, accelerating your pulse. You could feel his heart beating against yours. Fast. Hungry.

He pulled away from your mouth and looked at you. His eyes shone differently now, dilated pupils, and a clenched jaw. A look that wasn't from a nice guy from the neighborhood. It was from a predator that had smelled blood.

"Take off your shirt, kid."

It wasn't a question. It was an instruction, said with the calmness of someone who knows they will be obeyed. And you obeyed. You pulled it off over your head with clumsy arms and remained seated on his bed, your skinny chest, the skin pale, the nipples dark, the collarbone marked.

Dani licked his lips. Literally. The tip of his tongue tracing his lower lip, slow.

"Damn, kid. You're all there."

He pulled off his sweater in one swift motion. No shirt underneath. And there it was: thick pectorals from working, not from the gym. Abdominals without magazine definition but hard, tense. A line of dark hair running down from his navel to disappear under the waistband of his sweatpants. And the bulge. The damn bulge you had been glancing at since you saw it on the stairs, now more evident, more present, more real.

"You've never done this before, have you?"

"No," you said. And your voice sounded like something you didn't know. Fine. Surrendered.

"Good." He smiled sideways. "Better."

He leaned back against the headboard, his legs open, and patted the mattress between them.

"Come here. On your knees. Get closer."

You moved as if in a dream. His presence alone turned your muscles to gelatin and your skin hypersensitive. Every brush of the sheet against your knees was electric. You positioned yourself between his open legs, looking up at him, and something clicked. Like a piece that had been waiting its whole life for its slot.

Dani pulled down the waistband of his sweatpants just enough. Without haste. With the parsimony of someone who knows what they have and what it's worth. And he pulled it out.

Rafa. Damn.

Thick. Very thick. Darker, a couple of tones more than the rest of his sk...