Kimberly's POV
I stepped out of the car, the cool night air brushing against my skin as I closed the door behind me. The driveway was quiet, and the only sound was the soft click of my heels against the pavement. I turned to watch my driver, who had already begun to reverse, his headlights cutting through the darkness.
Before I could say anything, he shifted the car into gear and sped off, the tires screeching as he disappeared down the road. I stood frozen for a moment, confusion and a strange sense of unease washing over me. Why was he leaving so suddenly?
I watched the car fade into the distance, my thoughts racing as I tried to make sense of what just happened. Hadn't he been supposed to wait for me? The unexpected silence of the empty driveway pressed in on me, making everything feel too still, too uncertain.
I shook off the strange feeling, but it lingered in the pit of my stomach as I turned toward my boyfriend's house. A deep breath, a quick adjustment of my outfit, and I took my first step toward the door, unsure of what awaited me on the other side.
I stood in front of my boyfriend's house, my feet planted firmly on the ground, yet my mind was spinning with thoughts and nerves.
The house loomed in front of me, its warm lights shining through the windows, inviting yet intimidating. I took a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart, and slowly began walking toward the door. The closer I got, the more I felt the weight of my nerves pressing on me.
With every step, my thoughts grew louder: What if I say something stupid? It felt like an eternity, but in reality, it was only two minutes of walking.
When I finally reached the door, I paused. My hand hovered over the doorbell for a moment, trembling slightly.
It felt like the longest two minutes of my life, standing there on the threshold of something new. I could hear my heartbeat in my ears as I gathered the courage to press the doorbell.
The sound of the chime echoed through the quiet night, and I felt a rush of anticipation flood through me. It was done. Now, I just had to wait and see what came next.
Andy's POV
Sure! Here's the scene from Andy's perspective:
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I rushed out of the bathroom the moment I heard the doorbell ring. My heart raced, but not from nerves—no, I was too excited. It had been a month since we'd started dating, and tonight was the first time I'll be seeing her beneath all the beautiful dresses she always wear. I couldn't wait to have her close, to feel the warmth of her presence.
I opened the door, and before I could even say a word, my eyes locked onto hers. Those green eyes… they always captivated me, pulling me in deeper every time I looked into them. For a second, I just stood there, mesmerized by their beauty. Then, my gaze traveled down to the red short gown I had bought for her. It hugged her figure perfectly, and the way it flowed over her fair skin made everything else fade away. She looked incredible.
My pulse quickened. I couldn't control it—my body was already reacting. I didn't need to think, I just acted. Without another moment's hesitation, I leaned in and kissed her right there on the doorstep. It wasn't planned, but it felt so right. The world outside disappeared, and all that mattered was her—the way she felt against me, the way her lips tasted, and the promise of what was to come.
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I slowly pulled away from the kiss after about ten seconds, feeling the intensity of the moment. I realized I might have overdone it, rushing in like I was too eager, too hungry for her. A sudden wave of self-awareness hit me, and I couldn't help but feel like I should tone it down a bit.
I cleared my throat and tried to regain my composure. "Hi, you look very beautiful today," I said, my voice slightly shaky as I stuttered over the words.
She smiled and replied, "Thanks, babe." But I noticed something in the way she swallowed, almost nervously, and it made me realize that maybe I'd made her uneasy. I reached out instinctively and took her hand, trying to offer some reassurance.
"Come inside," I said gently, hoping to ease the tension.
She nodded, her steps tentative but graceful, and I watched as she walked into my house. I closed the door behind us, the soft click of the lock grounding me, and for the first time since she arrived, I took a deep breath, feeling a little more at ease.
Kimberly's POV
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I stepped into the bathroom, closed the door behind me, and leaned against it for a second. My chest rose and fell as I finally let myself breathe. The silence wrapped around me, but my heart was still thudding like a drum.
My mind kept replaying what just happened at the door. The way he kissed me—like he couldn't hold back anymore—it sent a jolt through me. I didn't expect it to feel that electric. That real.
I had made things awkward before, said something weird—I always do when I get nervous. I overthink, second-guess, pull away just a little too long. But he didn't let that stop him. He looked at me like I was all he could see. Like he knew exactly how I was feeling even when I didn't say a word.
I turned to the mirror and stared at my reflection. My cheeks were flushed, my lips still tingling.
"What should I do?" I asked the girl in the mirror.
But deep down, I already knew.
I smiled softly and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.
"I think I'm ready now," I whispered, more to myself than anyone else.
Let this be a crazy night.
I'm scared. I'm excited.
But I'm ready, too.
---
As I stepped out of the bathroom, the soft hum of silence filled his room. I glanced around and spotted his perfume bottle on the dresser. I picked it up, gave it a small spray, and smiled. It smelled like him—warm, familiar, comforting in a way I didn't expect.
Without thinking too much, I slipped off my clothes, one piece at a time, until I was standing in just my bra and panties. I sprayed a little more of his perfume on my neck, then on my chest. It felt… intimate. Like I was wrapping myself in him.
I reached for my phone, fingers slightly trembling, and typed a message.
"Meet me in your room, babe."
I hit send.
Then I turned off the main light, leaving only the soft glow of his night lamp to paint the room in gold. I crawled onto his bed, sinking into the warmth of his sheets, and laid down—heart pounding, breath shallow, nerves prickling under my skin.
I hugged myself tightly, trying to stay grounded.
"I'm really going to have sex," I whispered to the quiet.
"With a female... who's also a man. This is wild. So wild. I hope it feels right. I hope it feels… like us."
The door creaked open slowly, and the light from the hallway spilled into the room for a split second before it closed again. My breath hitched.
There he was—standing in the soft amber glow of the night lamp. His eyes met mine, and for a moment, neither of us said a word. The air between us was thick with anticipation, unspoken thoughts, and the sound of our own hearts racing.
I suddenly felt so aware of everything—how the sheets clung to my skin, how my body tensed and relaxed at the same time, how his scent lingered on me, wrapping around my nerves like silk and fire.
He looked at me—not just at my body, but like he was seeing all of me. And in his eyes, I didn't feel judged. I didn't feel weird. I felt wanted. Safe. Loved. Maybe even understood.
Still, my thoughts swirled.
This is real. This is happening.
I'm about to cross a line I've never dared to before.
But why does it feel less like a risk... and more like a step toward something I've been craving for so long?
He walked toward the bed, slow and steady, like he didn't want to startle me. And I was grateful for that. Grateful for how he didn't rush. For how he let me breathe.
I shifted slightly, heart thudding in my ears.
I didn't know what would happen next—if I'd cry, laugh, tremble, or melt. But I knew I wanted this. Wanted him. Just as he was. Just as I was.
He climbed onto the bed slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. The mattress dipped under his weight, and the moment he got close enough, I felt the warmth of his body hovering just above mine. My breath caught again, but this time, it wasn't fear. It was anticipation—deep, aching, and full of need.
His fingers brushed my arm, featherlight, and I shivered.
"Are you sure?" he asked, voice low and gentle, almost hesitant. That question—it made my heart swell. Because even now, he was giving me a choice. A moment to back out. A reminder that I was safe.
I nodded, slowly, then whispered, "Yeah. I'm sure."
He leaned down, kissing me softly—so different from the kiss at the door. This one was slower, deeper. Like he was savoring it. Like he was savoring me. And I kissed him back with everything I had, letting go of every doubt and every voice that ever told me this moment was wrong.
Because it wasn't. It was honest. And it was ours.
His hands explored my skin gently, like he was memorizing me. Every touch felt like a quiet promise. I could feel my heartbeat all over my body—my chest, my stomach, between my thighs. My nerves were alight, every inch of me aware of him.
And still, underneath it all, there was a fragile, beautiful vulnerability.
I'm letting him see me—really see me—and I'm seeing him too. All of him. The parts that don't fit neatly into boxes. The parts that scare him. The parts that make him unique. And I'm still here. I'm not going anywhere.
As he kissed down my neck, I whispered again, more to myself than to him,
"Please let this be good. Let this be real."
And in the quiet between us, I swear I felt the answer in the way he held me.
His lips moved slowly along my collarbone, planting soft, lingering kisses like he was tracing a path he never wanted to forget. I closed my eyes, sinking into the feeling, letting it wash over me. Each touch, each breath against my skin, sent shivers running through me.
I ran my fingers through his hair, gently tugging him closer, needing him to know I was right here with him. That I wasn't scared anymore. Not of him. Not of what this meant. Not of what it might become.
He paused and looked up at me again. That same look from before—searching, asking, are you okay? It made my chest tighten in the best way.
"I'm okay," I whispered, "just… don't stop."
There was a softness in his smile. A kind of relief. Like maybe he'd been holding his breath, too.
His hands roamed slowly over my waist, my stomach, careful and warm. My body responded before my mind could catch up—arching slightly, pressing into his touch. I felt alive in a way I hadn't before. Seen. Wanted. Held.
As our bodies pressed together, skin to skin, the rest of the world blurred into the background. There were no labels here. No definitions. No rules to follow.
Just us.
His breath was shaky against my neck as he whispered, "You're beautiful."
My heart clenched. I didn't realize how much I needed to hear that—from him, in this moment, when I felt so bare in every sense.
"I mean it," he added. "All of you. Everything you are."
Tears welled up in my eyes, and I didn't even try to stop them. I pulled him closer and kissed him again—deeper this time, more certain. My body was aching, yes, but it wasn't just about the physical. It was everything underneath it. The trust. The connection. The unspoken truth between us.
I wanted him. All of him.
And I was ready to let him have me—completely.
"Fuck me."