Two sides of the same coin

After his little getaway to Marbella, Fiti got ready to head to university. It was Thursday, which meant it was the last day of classes that week since he had no classes on Fridays. Taking advantage of the moment, when he got home he wrote in the book that his mother’s BMW would become his, leaving her a brand-new X3 instead. He dressed in the few “expensive” clothes he’d bought, including his Longines watch, and drove to campus in his new car.

The university wasn’t far; in fact, he usually walked there just to get some exercise. But now he didn’t have to worry about that, nor about how much it would cost to park the BMW.

Classes went by normally, with nobody noticing any change in him. Not that he was looking for attention; that’s why everything he’d bought was “quiet luxury” or whatever it’s called. Still, during the break between classes, while he was enjoying some mini chocolate-covered cookies (white chocolate), Almisha came up to him.

“Have you done something different?” she asked, frowning and squinting.

He smiled and let out a small huff, looking away for a second. “I went to Marbella, and since I was there, I had to buy a few things,” he said casually. She looked confused. “I won the lottery,” he added, as if it were no big deal, pretending he hadn’t forgotten to mention it earlier.

Her eyes went wide with shock, searching his face for any sign he was joking. “You won the lottery?!” she asked, her voice rising at the end from sheer disbelief.

“Say it a bit louder; there are still some people in the faculty who haven’t heard,” he replied jokingly, starting to laugh. Her reaction had been priceless.

She waved her hands around like an Italian, her gold-plated bracelets jingling. “Just answer my question!” she demanded, stepping closer, her heart in her throat.

“Yeah, I won. That’s why I’ve got Loewe clothes now,” he answered, understanding her excitement. She stepped back, looking as though she’d just received the most important news in the world. “By the way, you’re going to have to tell me your ring size,” he dropped casually, continuing the joke from Tuesday.

She raised her eyebrows and lowered her head, not sure what he meant. “Fiti, the marriage thing wasn’t serious,” she said, thinking he might have believed it.

“I know, I know. Starting a relationship with marriage is like building a house starting with the roof,” he reassured her, noticing a group of girls passing by in the distance. He turned his attention back to his friend. “But you’ll let me take you to dinner, right?” he asked, slipping his hands into his pockets, thumbs out.

She looked at him, unable to fully hide her excitement. “You really want to take me to dinner?” she wanted to confirm. Sometimes she couldn’t tell when he was joking or being serious.

He nodded. “How about 9 o’clock?”

She nodded too, smiling happily. “You know where I live,” she said, catching sight of the next professor arriving out of the corner of her eye. They both headed to class.

That night, Fiti dressed in the most elegant outfit he could put together: a white Cortefiel polo and navy cashmere sweater, light beige Zara chinos, brown boat shoes, and a long gray Zara coat. The cherry on top was his Longines. When he picked up Almisha, he was stunned. She was pretty normally, but tonight she was breathtaking. Her makeup was natural except for her lips—bright fire-engine red that matched her dress, which was fairly simple but fit her elegantly. She wore matching pearl earrings and necklace, plus a fluffy ice-white fur coat.

They went to “La Ro’”, the most expensive restaurant in Granada, located at the top of one of the tallest buildings in the city with panoramic views of everything. Though it sounded odd—and Almisha didn’t believe him—Fiti had chosen it completely at random; he’d just googled good restaurants in town and this was the first one that came up.

They had a really nice evening. Sure, it was obvious neither of them quite fit into that suffocatingly posh atmosphere—Fiti complained about the tiny portions, Almisha about how much of the menu had pork—but shared stories and interests made everything fun.

“To be honest, Fiti,” Almisha started, dabbing the corner of her mouth with the cloth napkin, “I’ve had a really good time tonight,” she admitted, blushing slightly.

He swirled his glass of Coca-Cola like it was fine wine. “Yeah, me too—even with the scam they’re pulling with all this fancy nonsense,” he agreed, taking a sip before leaning forward. “Because I’m leaving the same way I came in,” he added in a low, comical tone.

She covered her mouth so her laugh wouldn’t carry. “You Andalusians, honestly,” she said, still giggling.

At that moment both their phones buzzed. “Hey, there’s a party tonight,” Fiti said, quickly pulling out his Sony. “You in?”

She clicked her tongue and put away her Samsung. “I’ve got an early start tomorrow.”

He snorted, smiling in disbelief. “There’s no uni tomorrow, and as far as I know you don’t have a job.”

She smirked sideways, seeing what he was doing. “Yeah, but I need to study. Some of us actually like getting honors.” Says, teasing him.

They both laughed, and Fiti asked for the check. After paying, he drove her home. They lingered at her door.“So, are you going to the party or not?” she asked, turning her head toward him.

He turned to look at her. “Just for a bit—I don’t think I’ll last long. Plus, I’m driving, so no drinking,” he admitted. He felt like going.

She accepted it. She wasn’t his girlfriend to forbid him anything. “Be careful,” she said, touching his arm gently.She said goodbye with a kiss on the cheek. He watched her go inside.

Thirty minutes later he was at the party. It wasn’t anything special—loud music, outrageous prices, **** guys trying to hook up, and girls who knew they were hot. Same as any other party he could go to right now. But while he was at the bar, someone caught his eye: his classmate Belissa.

She was Italian, on Erasmus this year, and from day one she’d left every guy—and every sapphic girl—in the faculty speechless. Her straight, silky hair was dyed a blonde that only made her more stunning. Her delicate, graceful features drew all attention to her large, dark, feline eyes that could make you fall in love with a single glance. And her body—always dressed in high-end Italian fashion, like the black Dolce & Gabbana dress she wore now—revealed a tall, slim figure with dangerously perfect curves. She was the kind of woman men would kill for.

He didn’t approach her; he just watched from afar as clueless guys tried their luck and got shot down instantly. At uni she had a reputation for being extremely picky with men, which didn’t stop the next **** guy from trying anyway.

Fiti thought you’d have to have rock-bottom self-esteem or be a special kind of masochist to beg like that. Yes, he loved submission, but he had enough dignity not to crawl on the floor for anyone.Lost in those thoughts, he suddenly locked eyes with her for a few seconds. There was a spark. He wasn’t sure if she was looking at him or someone nearby, but while she kept staring, she gave a satisfied half-smile, grabbed the nearest guy, and headed to a more private area.

Fiti had no idea what had just happened, so he went back to the bar for another soft drink and, if the music was good, maybe dance a bit.A while later, having completely forgotten about Belissa, Fiti was in a chill-out area full of sofas and armchairs. He was so focused on his drink and watching the dance floor that he didn’t notice Belissa sitting to his right.

When he finally saw her, he stood up, confused. “Belissa, what’s up?” he started, not understanding why she was there. They barely spoke.

She looked him up and down, pausing for a microsecond at his hips, then met his eyes again and smiled brightly. “I need you to come outside with me for a moment,” she said, her strong northern-Italian accent clear.

He frowned. “Don’t you have a friend who can go with you?” he asked, looking around.

She narrowed her eyes briefly before stepping dangerously close. “I want you to come with me,” she clarified, softening her voice and giving him puppy eyes.

He agreed instantly, not realizing his luck. While following her, he discreetly reset the “settings” on his dick back to normal; he didn’t want to disappoint a girl—not yet.

They reached a secluded area of the club that looked like private bathrooms. Belissa walked into one and Fiti followed. It was spacious and luxurious. Belissa sat on a chair, crossed her legs, lifted her right heel slightly, and looked at him expectantly.

“What do you want me to do?” he asked innocently, genuinely confused.

She raised an eyebrow, thinking he was joking. When she saw he wasn’t, she smiled at his “innocence,” shall we say. “I want you to clean the sole of my heel with your tongue,” she said as casually as ordering a cappuccino.

He laughed nervously, looking around for hidden cameras. “Belissa, whatever ideas you have about me are very wrong,” he refused politely. Part of him wanted to do it, but logic was winning over his kinks this time.

She let out an incredulous laugh. “Fiti, you and I both know what you really are,” she said, staring into his eyes. “I’ll admit you hide it well—you almost fooled me. But if you’re going to watch porn in the library, at least use a VPN,” she added, letting his mind fill in the rest.

He cleared his throat, trying to stay composed while his heart pounded. “I’m leaving before you keep spreading baseless slander about me,” he declared, though his voice shook.

He turned to go. “Stop,” she ordered. Even though the logical part of him didn’t want to, desire won, and he obeyed. He turned back, eyes lowered. She stood and stepped very close.“First test: you’re hard—hell, I’d say you’re already leaking,” she said, palming his crotch. Not bad; she’d known plenty of guys back home with smaller ones. “I’m offering you the chance to submit to me, and trust me, darling, it’s a one-time offer,” she explained seriously, piercing him with her gaze before leaning to his ear. “So, are you going to keep denying your nature, or are you going to get on your knees?”

She turned and sat back down. This time Fiti knelt and crawled on all fours until he was at her Christian Louboutin heels. He started licking them timidly at first, but between how insanely turned on he was—evident from the growing bulge and the small wet spot at the tip—and her mocking whispers, he soon began licking enthusiastically, as if they were the most delicious thing in the world, even though they only had floor dirt on them.

He was in a trance, eyes closed. A bright flash made him open them: she was recording him.

“Belissa, you fucking bitch, don’t film me,” he said nervously and agressive, pulling away from the shoes.

She laughed at his reaction. “Relax, I’m not trying to ruin my life by leaking private stuff. This is just for personal use,” she said convincingly.

Even if there was a chance she was lying, his dick took over and he went back to enjoying the dust on her soles. It went on for a long time—his mouth was dry—but he didn’t want to stop. Not only because every lick sent electric shocks that made him feel like he was about to cum, but also because a while ago Belissa had started slowly masturbating to the scene, filling the room with elegant, erotic moans.

She moved her feet to signal him to stop. “Did you enjoy cleaning my shoes?” she asked with a mix of fake innocence and arousal. He nodded eagerly. “Then come closer; you need to clean your mouth,” she ordered, keeping the same tone.

When he did, she grabbed his jaw and spat into his mouth several times, watching him savor and swallow it.“Good boy. I think you deserve a reward,” she said with a smile, guiding him toward her pussy. He removed her lace panties, revealing a completely shaved pussy covered in cum. “That’s Hassan’s, the Algerian exchange student. I know how much boys like you love knowing girls like us fuck Arab guys—and you love even more eating their cum out of our pussies,” she said matter-of-factly. She’d met plenty of guys into race play.

He hesitated for a second before diving in and eating her out passionately. She tasted incredible between her juices and the cum inside and out. The fact that she was literally using him like a piece of toilet paper only made him hornier, and he ate her with even more enthusiasm. He must have been doing it well, because although Belissa tried to keep her moans controlled at first, soon a symphony of high-pitched, electrifying sounds was pouring from her mouth.

At one point she grabbed his head and used his mouth to get herself off, cumming hard on it—which made Fiti cum ferociously too, muffling his moans in her pussy.“Do you have the house to yourself?” she asked, recovering from her orgasm.He shook his head. She clicked her tongue in disappointment. “Shame. You eat pussy well. Though judging by the fact you just came untouched, you must eat it really well for a girl to want to be with you,” she teased, looking at the huge wet stain on his crotch.

He looked up—still on his knees. “Are we… doing this again?”

She grinned. “Yes, you’re a good little sub,” she said, standing and checking that her dress was in order. “I’ll contact you. And try to get a place of your own soon—after all, you did win the lottery,” she ordered while zipping up.

He nodded again, already thinking about which house and where to buy. They left the area and went their separate ways in the main room. Fiti left the club and drove home as fast as speed limits allowed. Once there, he quietly went to his room, took the book out of a shoebox in his wardrobe—where he was keeping it temporarily—and wrote:

When I wake up, I’ll be in Tony and Carmela Soprano’s house from The Sopranos. The interior will be undecorated, and the house will be located in the best part of the Bulevar neighborhood in Jaén, Spain. Everyone will think it’s always been there and that I living in it is completely normal. The only things inside will be the furniture and stuff from my current bedroom plus my Xbox Series X.
The book will come with me, appearing as an app on my current and future phones so I can use it just like the physical version.
I’ll be able to drive up to 220 km/h without ever getting fined or any other penalty; in fact, people won’t even perceive me as going over the speed limit in any region I’m in or will be in.

He closed it, put it away, and went to sleep, trying to lie very still so he’d fall asleep quickly and wake up in his new house as soon as possible.