The first day of your new life-5

Thank you very much for your support, here I leave you the ending of this series; soon I’ll bring you more stories hahaha
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Two months have passed since then, and well, to no one’s surprise, we became a couple. My group of friends and his freaked out—not because we were gay, but because neither my friends could believe I was with someone like Bosco nor his could believe he was with someone like me. But well, we ended up finding a balance.

As for Bosco and me… well, let’s say we’ve also found a balance between being boyfriends and being master and submissive. It’s incredible how wonderful sex can be when you combine love with domination and submission.

Now, getting to today’s story, because I’m rambling: Bosco and I decided to go away in September for a weekend to the mountains. There, my boyfriend had a very cute little chalet owned by his family.

During the trip everything was calm. We couldn’t stop talking about how little we wanted to go back to university, how we could organize ourselves to keep seeing each other, how cool the summer had been, the trips we’d taken, everything. Still, every time I asked Bosco what plan he had for our weekend, he went quiet, gave me that mischievous smile that drove me so crazy, and changed the subject.

When we finally arrived at the house, I couldn’t help it—“Fuuuck, some ‘little house,’” I said with a bit of mockery. There was nothing little about it: before me stood a two-story stone building, tiled roof, windows of different sizes. Bosco let out a smug little laugh; he always enjoyed surprising me like that.

“It’s true, love, I lied to you. It’s not a little house, it’s a proper house,” he cracked up, as if it were the funniest thing in the world, and I elbowed him. “It has 7 bedrooms, each with its own private bathroom, an indoor pool in the basement, and a spacious terrace.” My mouth fell open. Bosco came closer and gently closed my mouth, then gave me a peck.

We entered the house. Like the house in La Moraleja, this one was decorated in a sober style and, at the same time, full of life. Family photos filled the house. I stood there mesmerized looking at one where Bosco was alone; he had the same mischievous look I knew so well, his messy bowl-like hair. He must have been 17 or so in that photo. My boy quickly pulled me out of those thoughts, took my hand, and led me upstairs. We reached his room, just as spacious as the one in his house, just as beautiful, just as his.

We started unpacking our things. When we finished, I decided I was going to be a little mischievous. I knew Bosco was ticklish, so, without any mercy, I attacked him. I ran my hands over his body, and we both ended up thrown onto his bed, breathing raggedly—him from the effort of trying to escape, and me from laughing at hearing him ...