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My name is Márcio, 22, 1.90m tall, slim. I study at night, work out some days, and play basketball. I live in Porto Alegre with two roommates: Clara, 32, a fit, independent woman, and Lúcia, 22, my childhood friend. Two years ago, I crashed my motorcycle, breaking my arm and twisting my foot. Plastered up, I was stuck in a wheelchair at home. Clara, busy with her job, asked Lúcia to help me out since she was around more.
\nOn the second day, I needed a bath. Clara suggested a nurse, but Lúcia offered to try—if it didn’t work, we’d hire someone. It was awkward at first, her washing me naked, but we managed. By the fifth bath, as she scrubbed me, I got a slight erection. I said:
- Sorry, Lúcia, it’s been too long since I’ve hooked up.
- Relax, Márcio, it’s normal—I’ve seen worse.
She dried me, we grabbed a snack, watched TV. I noticed her body—fit, curvy from her gym routine. I wondered if she still felt desire. Next bath, she wore tight shorts and a buttoned shirt. I caught her glancing at my 22cm. As she soaped me, her shirt popped open—no bra, her full breasts almost spilling out. She saw me staring:
- Oops, Márcio, hands are soapy, can’t fix it.
- Lúcia, those are gorgeous.
- I’ll wash this big guy extra nice today—didn’t know it was so thick.
She stroked slowly; I got harder. She rinsed and kept going, smirking. I warned:
- Careful, I’m pent up and horny.
- Do what you want—I’m feeling it too.
I came hard—some splashed her face. She licked her fingers, grinning:
- Our secret. That was hot.
- Anytime, you’re too sexy.
Later, Clara came home, saying she’d be away a week for work and asked Lúcia to stay with me. Lúcia winked, brushing my crotch under the table. I couldn’t sleep, imagining our week. Next day, she brought clothes, saying she’d crash in my room—where I keep a double bed for “guests.” Clara left after lunch; Lúcia promised to “feed me well.” We laughed.
\nMid-afternoon, bath time. She undressed me, changed into a short nightshirt, buttons loose, breasts peeking out. I sprayed her chest playfully:
- Can’t resist those tits.
- Márcio! Now I’m soaked.
She stripped—nothing underneath. Her body was stunning. She soaped me, teasing:
- Don’t cum yet—something better’s coming.
She dried us, laid me on the bed, climbed over for a 69. Her scent hit me; I licked deep, her clit swelling. She sucked me hard:
- Fill my mouth!
- Lick me—I’m cumming!
We came together—her juices sharp, mine thick. She kissed me, mixing our tastes.
Clara returned, saw me moving better, thanked Lúcia:
- You took good care of him.
- I’d love to keep cooking for him—he needs it.
Now Lúcia comes over often; we hook up everywhere. One day, I suggested her ass. She was nervous but curious. I lubed up, went slow—she moaned, then pushed back. We came hard, cum dripping. We still go at it—Clara clueless, thinking it’s just meals.
My name is Márcio, 22, 1.90m tall, slim. I study at night, work out some days, and play basketball. I live in Porto Alegre with two roommates: Clara, 32, a fit, independent woman, and Lúcia, 22, my childhood friend. Two years ago, I crashed my motorcycle, breaking my arm and twisting my foot. Plastered up, I was stuck in a wheelchair at home. Clara, busy with her job, asked Lúcia to help me out since she was around more.
On the second day, I needed a bath. Clara suggested a nurse, but Lúcia offered to try—if it didn’t work, we’d hire someone. It was awkward at first, her washing me naked, but we managed. By the fifth bath, as she scrubbed me, I got a slight erection. I said:
- Sorry, Lúcia, it’s been too long since I’ve hooked up.
- Relax, Márcio, it’s normal—I’ve seen worse.
She dried me, we grabbed a snack, watched TV. I noticed her body—fit, curvy from her gym routine. I wondered if she still felt desire. Next bath, she wore tight shorts and a buttoned shirt. I caught her glancing at my 22cm. As she soaped me, her shirt popped open—no bra, her full breasts almost spilling out. She saw me staring:
- Oops, Márcio, hands are soapy, can’t fix it.
- Lúcia, those are gorgeous.
- I’ll wash this big guy extra nice today—didn’t know it was so thick.
She stroked slowly; I got harder. She rinsed and kept going, smirking. I warned:
- Careful, I’m pent up and horny.
- Do what you want—I’m feeling it too.
I came hard—some splashed her face.
She licked her fingers, grinning:
- Our secret. That was hot.
- Anytime, you’re too sexy.
Later, Clara came home, saying she’d be away a week for work and asked Lúcia to stay with me. Lúcia winked, brushing my crotch under the table. I couldn’t sleep, imagining our week. Next day, she brought clothes, saying she’d crash in my room—where I keep a double bed for “guests.” Clara left after lunch; Lúcia promised to “feed me well.” We laughed.
Mid-afternoon, bath time. She undressed me, changed into a short nightshirt, buttons loose, breasts peeking out. I sprayed her chest playfully:
- Can’t resist those tits.
- Márcio! Now I’m soaked.
She stripped—nothing underneath. Her body was stunning. She soaped me, teasing:
- Don’t cum yet—something better’s coming.
She dried us, laid me on the bed, climbed over for a 69. Her scent hit me; I licked deep, her clit swelling. She sucked me hard:
- Fill my mouth!
- Lick me—I’m cumming!
We came together—her juices sharp, mine thick. She kissed me, mixing our tastes.
Clara returned, saw me moving better, thanked Lúcia:
- You took good care of him.
- I’d love to keep cooking for him—he needs it.
Now Lúcia comes over often; we hook up everywhere. One day, I suggested her ass. She was nervous but curious. I lubed up, went slow—she moaned, then pushed back. We came hard, cum dripping. We still go at it—Clara clueless, thinking it’s just meals.