More Than Time Can Heal a Broken Heart (a Memory)
Copyright© 2026 by BethanyBelow
Chapter 15: Good Morning, Family
True Story Sex Story: Chapter 15: Good Morning, Family - 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
Kevin was at the stove preparing the kind of Saturday morning that belonged to the perfect family stereotype; bacon sizzled on a griddle while he flipped pancakes and deposited them on a growing plate. Sue was pouring orange juice into a pitcher and had plates, glasses, and silverware stacked up and ready for the table. “Good morning, ladies,” Kevin said.
We both said it back. Sue asked Carrie to get the syrup and the butter and set the table. Then she looked at me with the same careful kindness she had used last night, the kind that tried not to make a production out of checking on a person.
“Can I get you anything, Beth?”
“No,” I said. “This is already a lot. Thank you.”
Andrew’s voice hit the kitchen before the rest of him did. “Good morning, family.”
He came in looking like the boy I used to know was fighting with the man who had come home to visit. He looked at me, and something small happened in his face, a little color, a little of the old shy guy I remembered from before college had sanded him down and built him back differently.
“And Beth, of course,” he said. “I do not want to forget our guest.”
He laughed. It was not unkind. It still landed in my stomach. I blushed and looked at the counter because eye contact felt like a test I had not studied for.
I poured myself a mug of coffee. I had only started liking it recently, which meant I still treated it like a dessert that happened to contain caffeine: about 2/3 of the mug was coffee, the rest was cream with an abundance of sugar. I stood there stirring as if the spoon could make me look occupied. Andrew came up beside me and reached past my shoulder for a mug in the cabinet. His chest brushed my arm. The contact was nothing. It did not feel like nothing. “Excuse me,” he said. “Coffee sounds great this morning.” I got a lungful of whatever he was wearing. Clean. Warm. The same good smell from the hug yesterday, now closer because the kitchen was smaller than a backyard.
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