More Than Time Can Heal a Broken Heart (a Memory)
Copyright© 2026 by BethanyBelow
Chapter 14: Stiff Cotton
True Story Sex Story: Chapter 14: Stiff Cotton - This is a SLOW BURN story with the real sex only in the last 1/3 though some masturbation in earlier parts. While graphic the sex is very vanilla. This story focuses on when I was newly 18, inexperienced & insecure and my boyfriend of 4 years dumped me. The main purpose is to give those of you reading my Infidelity/Cheating series some background on me. This can be read as a stand alone. It is also not necessary to read this in order to enjoy my Infidelity/Cheating series.
Caution: This True Story Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Heterosexual True Story Oral Sex
We got up and went into her bathroom together because that’s how this friendship had always worked: talking through a door was optional; talking through the actual fact of being human was not. She sat on the edge of the tub while I peed. Then we switched. The conversation did not pause for any of it. We talked about the nightmare, both of our jobs, whether Sue was going to make us eat fruit with breakfast—ordinary conversations, which I needed more than I wanted to admit.
When I pulled the borrowed shorts back up, I felt it. A stiff patch in the cotton. A faint stain that had dried overnight into evidence. Last night on the office sofa came back in one clean, humiliating flash: my hand, the wet sound, Andrew’s name in a room that had not asked for it. Heat climbed my throat and then pulsed between my legs. I folded the waistband over the worst of it and made my voice say something practical.
“We should go to my house,” I said. “I need clothes. For today and tomorrow at least. While I appreciate what you have given me, these are ... not working.”
Carrie glanced at the shorts and, thank God, did not investigate. “Yeah. Okay. I have to work tonight, though—four to ten. If you want me to drive you to your place and back, it has to be earlier. Otherwise, you get my mom or my dad if he is back from his golf adventure with his buddies.” She let the pause sit, then put on a voice that belonged in a bad play. “Or. Maybe you could ride Andrew. Oops. I mean, get a ride from Andrew.”
I made a noise. She made a worse one.
“Ew. Gross. I cannot believe I said that about him,” Carrie squealed.
We both laughed, the startled kind that leaks the tension out of a sentence you should not have said out loud. She kept talking while we headed for the stairs. She offered that we could go shopping, maybe, and get me what she termed as some hot new clothes, maybe. Something that would show Justin what he had just given up. Maybe they could get me a new man while they were at it, she suggested, as if men were a department between shoes and makeup.
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