The Secret of the Abandoned House
In our small town, discretion was a survival skill. I had always kept my desires locked away, fearing the judgment of a community that didn’t understand the pull I felt toward other men. Then there was Jairo. He wasn’t flashy, but he had deep brown eyes and a smile that seemed to see right through my walls.
Everything changed during the carnival. The town was alive with people dressed as devils. While hiding behind a parked car, Jairo suddenly grabbed me. He joked about handing me over to the devils, but as we struggled, the playfulness shifted. I felt the hard ridge of his erection pressing firmly against me, sending a jolt of electricity through my spine.
We retreated to the shadows of an abandoned house nearby, the air thick with dust and anticipation. The moment the door clicked shut, the pretense vanished. Jairo pinned me against the wall, his breath hot against my neck. Our kiss was desperate, a collision of years of suppressed longing. He reached down, his hand finding me through my trousers, squeezing firmly. I gasped, arching my back as he guided me toward the floor, where we let the world outside disappear in a blur of skin and sweat.