The heat in my bedroom was almost unbearable, as if the whole day had to be spent inside an oven. It was the summer of 2026, and the heatwave showed no mercy. I lay on my side, the sheet half pulled off my body, my skin gleaming with sweat. My breasts pressed against the fabric of my nightgown, the nipples hard from the heat. I rolled onto my back and felt the cotton sticking to my thighs. Damn. Another night without rest. Photo from Alana.

I wanted to get up, but stayed lying there for a moment, listening to the silence in the house. No whistling of the kettle, no rattling in the kitchen. My husband had already left for work, as always. I opened my eyes and looked at my alarm clock. Seven o’clock. Too early for a Saturday, but I couldn’t stay in bed any longer. The bed felt too small, too warm, too empty. I threw the sheet off and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. My feet touched the cool wooden floor. I pulled off my nightgown and walked naked to the window.

Outside the sun was already blazing. The garden lay there like an abandoned playground, overgrown with weeds and dry leaves. The borders were a tangle of forgotten plants, and the lawn looked like a neglected mat. I sighed. It had to be done. I couldn’t wait forever for rain or for my husband to finally find the motivation to do something about it.

I walked to the closet and took out my light-pink summer dress. It was one of my favorites—tight-fitting, with a deep V-neck and a side slit that showed just enough of my leg to be interesting. I slipped it on and felt the fabric glide tightly over my hips. The dress needed no bra; the cups were thick enough to hold my breasts neatly without them wanting to spill out. I put on my earrings, a pair of large silver danglers that tapped against my neck when I moved my head. My hair I left loose, the dark curls falling over my shoulders and back. I dabbed a little perfume on my wrists and throat, and grabbed my sunglasses from the nightstand.

When I entered the kitchen I opened the fridge and took out a can of diet cola. I drank it in one go while walking toward the back door. I pushed the door open and stepped outside. The heat hit me in the face at once. I took a deep breath and looked around. Across the street I saw my neighbor Diego just putting his bike into the garage. He was wearing shorts and a loose-fitting T-shirt, his muscles clearly visible under the fabric. He was nineteen, maybe twenty, and there was something about him that always made me smile. He was uncertain, shy, but once he relaxed he was pure charm.

I waved to him. He looked up, surprised, and his cheeks immediately flushed red. He waved back and walked toward me.

“Good morning, Sofía,” he said, his voice a little rough from the morning.

“Good morning, Diego,” I answered with a smile. “How are you?”

“Good,” he said, his eyes fixed on the ground. “And you?”

I looked at his lean, muscular arms and felt something tighten in my belly. He was so young, so fresh, and I suddenly felt old. But that didn’t bother me. On the contrary.

“Fine,” I said. “I’ve got a little job for you, if you have time.”

He looked up, his eyes wide with surprise. “For me?”

“Yes,” I said, resting a hand on my hip. “My garden is a mess. I need someone to get it back in shape.”

He shuffled his feet, his gaze on the ground. “Yeah, of course. Why not.”

I smiled. “Good. Come with me.”

I walked ahead of him into the backyard, my hips swaying under the dress. I felt his eyes on my ass, but he quickly looked away when he noticed I saw it. I enjoyed his shyness. It was so easy to make him blush.

The garden really did look bad. Weeds poked up between the tiles, the borders were overgrown, and the lawn was full of dead leaves. I pointed to an old rake leaning against the shed. “There.” I pointed to a small patio at the side of the garden where a few garden chairs stood. “You can put your things there.”

Diego nodded and walked to the rake. He picked it up and weighed it in his hands for a moment. “What exactly do you want me to do?”

“I want you to clear the borders,” I said. “Pull out the weeds, throw away the plants that are dying, and maybe plant some new flowers. Something with color, something that can handle the summer.”

He nodded again, his gaze on the ground. “Okay.”

I watched him as he started working. He had a determined look on his face, his jaw tight. His T-shirt stretched across his shoulders when he handled the rake, and I could see the contours of his muscles. He was so different from the men I knew. His skin was smooth, almost hairless, and his movements were more confident than I had expected.

I went into the kitchen and poured myself a glass of iced tea. I drank it slowly, my eyes on Diego while he worked. Every time he bent over to pull weeds from the ground, his shirt stretched tight across his back. I felt something in my belly, a light tension that made me smile.

I walked back outside and sat down on one of the garden chairs. I crossed my legs and felt the dress slide up, exposing a bit of my thigh. I took a sip of my iced tea and looked at him.

“You’re doing well,” I said. “But you can take a break if you want. I also have coffee.”

He looked up, his eyes wide. “Coffee?”

“Yes,” I said. “I just made a pot. Come inside if you like.”

He hesitated a moment, his hands on the handle of the rake. “Uh… okay.”

I smiled and stood up. I walked ahead of him into the house, deliberately swaying my hips. I felt his gaze on my ass, but I didn’t look back. I knew exactly what he was feeling.

Inside it was cool, a welcome change after the heat outside. I went to the kitchen and poured two cups of coffee. I added a splash of milk to mine and stirred slowly. The movements were precise, deliberate. I heard him come in and turned around.

Diego stood in the doorway, uncertain of his place. His T-shirt was wet with sweat and clung to his chest. I could see the shape of his pectoral muscles, the nipples dark and small. He had stuck his hands in his pockets, as if he didn’t know what to do with them.

I slid a cup toward him. “Milk? Sugar?”

“Milk is fine,” he said, his voice soft.

I poured a splash of milk into his cup and slid it toward him. Our fingers brushed for a moment and I pulled my hand back, as if I’d gotten a shock. He blushed even harder now, his cheeks a deep red.

I took a sip of my coffee and looked at him. “How do you like it so far?”

“Good,” he said. “It’s… nice to do.”

I smiled. “Nice?”

He nodded, his eyes on the cup. “Yeah. It’s good to be outside. And…” He hesitated.

“And what?” I asked, my voice soft.

“And it’s nice to see you,” he said suddenly, his gaze fixed on my face.

I felt my breath catch. I’d heard that boys could say things like that, but I never thought it would be so direct. I looked at him, my eyes dark with something he didn’t fully understand yet. My fingers curled around the rim of my cup, pressing hard against the porcelain.

“Is that so?” I whispered.

He nodded, his breathing a little faster now.

I set my cup down and walked slowly toward him. I stood right in front of him, close enough to feel the heat of his body. I looked up at him, my chin slightly raised. “And what else would you find nice?”

His breath caught. His eyes were wide, his pupils dilated. He swallowed hard. “I…”

I reached out and placed my hand against his chest. I felt his heart pounding under my palm, fast and irregular. His shirt was wet, cold with sweat. I slid my hand upward to his neck and felt his throat move under my fingers.

He closed his eyes, as if he didn’t want to look at me. But he didn’t pull away.

I leaned forward and whispered in his ear: “Just say it.”

He shook his head, but I felt his body tremble. “I… I don’t dare.”

I smiled, my lips close to his ear. “Daring is half the battle.”

I pulled back a little, but left my hand resting on his chest. I felt how his breathing sped up, how his chest expanded under my hand. I looked at him, waiting.

He opened his eyes, his gaze full of confusion. But also full of desire. I could see it. I could feel it.

I let my hand slide down his body, over his abs, to the waistband of his shorts. I felt the warm skin under my fingers, the thin trail of hair leading downward. He held his breath, his body tightly tensed.

I looked deep into his eyes and said: “I want you.”

His mouth fell open, his breath coming in short bursts. He shook his head, but his body did the opposite. His hips moved slightly forward, as if they couldn’t wait.

I let my hand drop further until I felt him. Hard. Warm. I squeezed gently, enjoying the feel of his cock through the fabric. He groaned softly, letting his head fall back a little.

I leaned forward and whispered in his ear: “I want you very much, actually.”

He groaned again, his body trembling. I felt how his young cock grew in my hand, how he got harder. I let my hand slide over it, tracing his length. I looked at his face, his eyes closed, his mouth half open.

I let go of him and stepped back, my hands on my hips. “Sit down.”

He opened his eyes, his gaze confused. “What?”

“I said: sit down,” I repeated, my voice soft but commanding.

He hesitated a moment, then took a step back and sank onto one of the kitchen chairs. His legs were spread, his shorts tight across his crotch.

I walked over to him and stood between his legs. I placed my hands on his shoulders and pushed him gently back until his back rested against the chair. His breathing was rapid, his chest rising and falling quickly.

I leaned forward, my face just above his. I looked into his eyes and said: “I’m going to make you feel something you’ve probably never felt before.”

I sank to my knees between his legs. I felt the cool kitchen floor under my knees, but I didn’t care. I wanted this. I wanted him. I wanted it now.

I placed my hands on his knees and pushed them a little farther apart. He didn’t protest. His breathing was shallow now, his chest moving rapidly. I looked up at him, my eyes dark with desire.

I pulled at the waistband of his shorts; his erection came into view. He was quite big. Hard. Perfect. I licked my lips and leaned forward.

I felt his hand on my head, as if he wanted to stop me. But I pushed his hand away and took him into my mouth.

He groaned loudly, his body jerking. I felt him grow further in my mouth, his heat, his taste. I moved my head up and down, slowly, enjoying the feel of his thick young cock in my mouth.

He grabbed my hair, his fingers tangled in my curls. I felt him try to hold back, but his body gave up. He pushed his hips upward, deeper into my mouth, and I took him as deep as I could.

He groaned again, his breathing a rapid burst. I felt him hit the back of my throat, and I pulled back a little, needing to catch my breath.

“Sofía,” he groaned, his voice broken. “I’m going to…”

I felt him try to hold back, but I didn’t want that. I wanted him to come. I took him deeper again, my mouth tight around him, and felt him explode in my mouth.

He cried out, his body shaking as he shot his cum into my mouth. I swallowed everything, enjoying the taste, the heat. I kept his cock in my mouth until he was completely empty and his body relaxed.

I stood up and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. I looked at him, his face red with shame and desire.

I smiled at him. “Good?”

He nodded, his eyes still wide with amazement. “Yes. Yes, that was…”

I placed a finger against his lips. “Shh. You don’t have to say anything.”

I took his hand and pulled him up. He stood unsteadily on his legs, his shorts still around his ankles. I laughed and pushed him gently backward until he leaned against the kitchen counter.

I knelt again, but this time I pulled his shorts all the way off. He stood there naked, his body still panting from the climax. I looked at him, admiring the way he stood before me—vulnerable yet proud.

I took his still half-hard cock into my mouth again, this time slowly, enjoying the feel of his head against my tongue. I felt him gradually harden again, how his breathing sped up.

I released him and looked up. “You want more?”

He nodded, his eyes dark with desire. “Yes.”

I smiled and stood up. I pulled my dress off so that I stood completely naked in front of him. His eyes traveled over my body, his gaze full of admiration and lust.

I walked over to him and pushed him back until he sat against the kitchen table. I pushed his legs farther apart and stood between his thighs. I took his cock in my hand and guided it to my already soaking wet pussy.

He groaned when his head first slid between the thick lips of a wet, ripe cunt, his hands on my hips. I moved slowly, enjoying the feel of his cock sliding through my slit, the way he looked at me as if he wanted to devour me. He found my opening; I felt him slide into me centimeter by centimeter and begin to move up and down. The feeling of such a young hard cock is indescribable.

Later we lay side by side on the kitchen floor, our bodies covered with a thin layer of sweat. The sun shone through the window, a soft warmth on our skin. I turned my head toward him and looked at his face. His eyes were closed, his breathing calm.

I stroked my fingers over his chest, feeling how his heart still beat quickly, but now from satisfaction instead of desire. I smiled.

“This was nice,” I said softly.

He opened his eyes and looked at me. There was a new certainty in his gaze, something that hadn’t been there before. “Yes,” he said. “It certainly was.”

I stretched out and picked up my dress from the floor. I put it on, my body still panting from our forbidden lovemaking. I looked at him and felt a pang of regret. But I knew this wasn’t the end.

I bent down and gave him a kiss on the forehead. “Come again tomorrow,” I said. “The garden still needs to be done.”

He smiled at me, a real, sincere smile. “I will.”