I woke up before them, with that typical fertile energy pushing me along, making me feel sluggish and naughty more than usual. I put on a light cotton dress that reached mid-thigh—the most "proper" in my wardrobe—and went down to the bakery on the corner. The morning air was crisp, and I greeted a few neighbors along the way, feeling a sense of normalcy that was delightful after the hectic life in Veredinha.

I returned with a bag full of warm bread, tapioca starch cookies, a cornmeal cake, and cold cuts. Clara, our organizing angel, took over the kitchen and prepared a divine Minas Gerais lunch, complete with black bean puree, kale, and sausage. Ingrid, with her scientific precision, made a milk pudding that was perfect, without a single bubble. We sat at the table for hours, laughing, eating, and reminiscing about Veredinha—the good old days, not the ones that made me flee.

 In the afternoon, it was Grey's Anatomy's turn. We plopped down on the couch, covered in a blanket, binge-watching the medical dramas like there was no tomorrow. I was there, physically. But my mind was racing. With each steamy scene, my imagination raced. The lack of my fertile period was a constant voice in my head, whispering that I needed a man, a cock, something inside me to fulfill me and calm all that restlessness.

As night fell, hunger returned, and so did laziness. We decided to order pizza. It was an easy compromise. While we waited, I changed into my favorite pink nightgown: short, sheer lace, leaving little to the imagination. Underneath, just a tiny thong of the same color. I was home, feeling free, sexy, and… extremely needy.

The intercom rang. It was the doorman announcing the delivery man had arrived. Since the building's rules didn't allow delivery men to go upstairs, I volunteered to go down.

“I’ll be right back, girls!” I shouted, leaving the apartment.

I didn't think about changing my clothes. The excitement of knowing a man, a stranger, would see me like this was a foretaste of what my body was really asking for. I took the elevator down, feeling the light fabric of my nightgown brush against my hard nipples and the thong cutting into my pussy, already slightly damp with anticipation.

The lobby was empty, except for the doorman, busy with the security cameras. I opened the glass door, and there he was. The delivery man. A handsome, young, black man with defined arms holding the pizza cooler. He wore a delivery jacket, but I could see his athletic build underneath. He had the look of a rogue, the kind who knows what he wants.

His eyes roamed my body from head to toe, undisguised. He stopped at my legs, moved up to the curve of my hips, fixed on my breasts beneath the sheer lace, and finally met my gaze. He licked his lips slowly, a predatory gesture that made me tremble inside.

"Is this the pizza?" he asked, his voice deeper than I expected.

“Yes, it is. How much is it?” I replied, taking the note I had set aside.

—Thirty-eight. — he said, still devouring me with his eyes.

I paid and took the box. The sexual tension in the air was palpable. I was needy, and he was clearly interested. I seized the opportunity.

"Would you like to come up?" I asked, lowering my voice to an inviting whisper. "For some water... or tea?"

He understood immediately. A mischievous smile spread across his face.

— Sure. I'll just leave my things here at the concierge.

He left the cooler bag and helmet with the doorman, who pretended not to see anything, and stepped into the elevator with me. As soon as the doors closed, we threw ourselves at each other. Our mouths met in a voracious kiss, full of tongue and pent-up desire. His hands grabbed my ass, squeezing tightly, and I moaned softly into his mouth. I slipped my hand inside his jeans, feeling the hot, hard bulge of his cock. It was big, very big. A smile of victory spread across my face.

He, in turn, wasted no time. He lifted my nightgown, pulled my thong aside, and slid two fingers inside my already soaking wet pussy.

— You're already all sticky, you slut — he growled in my ear.

The elevator stopped on our floor. We stepped out quickly, and I cautiously opened the apartment door, peeking to see if the girls were in the living room. The TV was paused. I heard the toilet flush and saw Ingrid in the kitchen getting something from the fridge. This was my chance.

I placed the pizza on the living room table on my tiptoes and, without making a sound, pulled Brenno – he had told me his name in the elevator – by the arm, straight to my room and closed the door.

As soon as she entered, her eyes widened. The room was lit only by the red candles I'd lit earlier for my Pomba Gira. Images of her, in their colorful dresses, watched the scene.

"How delicious," he murmured, looking around. "Today I'm going to have a little macumbeirinha."

I smiled, feeling a peculiar pride. I threw him on the bed and climbed on top of him, resuming the kisses. His mouth found my neck, and he began sucking with a force I knew would leave marks. I didn't mind. I loved showing off my conquered territories.

I removed his jacket and shirt, revealing a defined torso. I kissed my way down his chest, his hard stomach, until I reached the waistband of his pants. I unbuttoned them and pulled them down, along with his underwear.

And there it was. A huge, thick, black cock with a huge, pink head, like a perfect mushroom. My God, I was going to suffer, but so be it. I opened my mouth and enveloped that head, sucking passionately, savoring his salty taste. He moaned, put his hand on the back of my neck, and pulled me up, kissing me again with that brutal desire.

— I want you on top of me — he ordered, lying on his back.

I didn't need to be asked twice. I climbed on top of him, guided his cock to the entrance of my dripping pussy, and, without thinking about a condom—that moment was pure instinct—I sat down.

He slammed into me all at once. I moaned loudly, feeling my insides being stretched to their limits, filled completely. It was too big, it hurt a little, but the pain was mixed with a deep, intense pleasure. I began to ride him, rising and falling, feeling every inch of him tearing me apart. He held my hips, keeping me in rhythm, his eyes fixed on my breasts swaying beneath the pink nightgown.

"Is that tight little pussy mine now, blondie?" he grunted, panting.

"It's all yours, nigga! Fill that little bitch with cum!" I replied, completely losing my shame, surrendering to that ecstasy.

The riding grew more frantic. I could feel my orgasm approaching, a wave of heat rising from my pussy to my entire body. He was close, too.

— I'm going to cum, babe… — he warned, his voice hoarse.

“Cum inside me!” I begged, accelerating even more. “Fill my belly!”

That's what he did. With a muffled groan, he exploded inside me. I felt the hot, abundant jets flooding my womb, and it was the stimulation I needed. My body shook violently, and I came with him, an intense orgasm that left me falling onto his chest, panting and completely overcome.

We lay like that for a few seconds, the sound of our heavy breathing filling the room, the smell of sex and incense mingling in the air. Until his phone rang. It was the pizzeria, worried about his disappearance.

He quickly stood up and began to dress. I stood up too, feeling limp and satisfied, my legs shaking. As he got ready, I felt his warm cum starting to drip down my thighs. I slowly opened the bedroom door and found Clara and Ingrid standing in the living room, their expressions blank.

I tried to hide it, pulling my nightgown down. “I need to walk him to the door,” I said, my voice still hoarse.

I walked past them with Brenno following. At the door, he looked at me with a smirk.

—So… Anna Luiza, is it? — he confirmed.

— That's it. And you? Brenno, right?

— That's it. Nice to meet you, Anna.

—The pleasure… was all mine — I replied, returning his smile and giving him a light kiss.

I closed the door and turned to face my friends' judgment. They couldn't help but burst out laughing.

"We knew you were with someone in the room!" Ingrid said, holding her stomach in laughter. "Your moaning was so loud!"

"We just didn't think it was the delivery guy!" Clara added, laughing too.

“Who did you think it was?” I asked, confused.

"Walter, the janitor!" they said almost in unison.

— Walter? Why him?

"Oh, stop it, Anna!" Ingrid said. "He ogles you every time you walk past the lobby. He can't take his eyes off your ass! We made a bet that you'd give it to him first!"

I laughed, feeling Brenno's juices dripping down. "Maybe one day, right?" But today wasn't his day.

I ran to the bathroom to clean myself up. As I washed his seed from me, I looked in the mirror and saw the hickeys on my neck. I smiled. It was the mark of a perfect Sunday.

I went back to the living room, and the three of us finally ate the pizza, which was already cold, and finished binge-watching Grey's Anatomy, laughing and talking about Meredith Grey's dramas and mine, which were much more interesting.

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